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MY JOURNAL 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 OF CONGRESS 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 Copyright, 1 
 By FLOI^EJTQE Ti? filL. 
 
Atlantic Ocean, R. M. S. "Bothnia," 
 St. Makk's Day, 1883. 
 
 HE first day at sea! who can describe the novelty 
 of the situation or picture the shifting scenes of 
 the highly colored panorama! all within bustling 
 and busy; all without unchangeable and tireless. 
 Our steward says the sea is so smooth that he 
 ^scarcely knows the ship is moving. But far other- 
 wise does it seem to me. We started out on one of 
 the most glorious mornings I have ever known ; 
 the sun shining in its strength, the ocean a sapphire 
 sea covered with a thousand snowy crests, laugh- 
 ing and leaping with delight. Now up, now down, 
 our good ship rearfe and plunges, a splendid witness 
 to the skill of man and the overruling Hand of 
 God. We have one hundred and eighty-four saloon 
 passengers, and with the sailors, waiters, officers, 
 &c, I judge we do not carry more than two hun- 
 dred and fifty souls. We have spent the entire day on deck and taken 
 a good deal of exercise, so that by this time (9 p. m.) everyone is pretty 
 well played out, and all seem to be lounging around "in durance vile," 
 as the evening hours wear away. 
 
 April 26th. — At the end of the second day at sea I reach the con- 
 clusion that only the courageous and energetic should attempt a sea- 
 voyage ; nor can I conceive how one in search only of pleasure can 
 support this life of enforced inactivity and searching introspection. 
 Again we wend our way to the saloon to chronicle the day's doings. 
 This long narrow hall, which serves as dining-room, parlor, music and 
 sitting-room is very bright and attractive ; the four long tables run- 
 ning the length of it are covered with bright crimson cloths, while 
 brightly burnished lamps, brackets full of different colored glasses 
 and pictures between the port-holes produce a very pretty general 
 effect. We have had another lovely day, and spent the whole of it 
 in the open air on deck, taking walks after each meal and at various 
 intervals. We saw two ships pass each other this morning, on the 
 horizon, about twelve miles distant from us. A trifling, but well-writ- 
 ten and racy little book — " The Eleventh Commandment " — has carried 
 
4 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN" LANDS. 
 
 me across some pretty hard places to-day; it is certainly the very thing 
 for a voyage. 
 
 A run. 27th. — We have had another nice day, half cloudy, half sun- 
 Bhiny. While sitting on deck we spied a sea-gull and knew that land 
 must he near. We were in fact passing the Banks of Newfoundland 
 and the wind grew colder and colder until it "was bitter. Our ship 
 makes thirteen knots an hour, which is considered fast time. Our 
 fellow-passengers are entertaining and amusing in their way. 
 
 Saturday Night. April 28th — To-day we saw the smoke of a ship 
 on the extreme edge of the horizon, and my sister N. saw the head of 
 a sea-serpent. In the afternoon a dense cloud covered the waters, and 
 the fog-horn sounded at frequent intervals with a melancholy boom. 
 It seems as though we were never going to get beyond the Banks of 
 Newfoundland, for the fog, as well as the cold weather of yesterday 
 and the sea-gull, are all accounted for by this proximity. It is said that 
 one can get a clearer view of life during a sea-voyage than in any other 
 way, and certainly during the monotonous hours of this gray day, sky 
 and sea melting into each other, we have been left to our own thoughts, 
 ami it will not be for lack of opportunity should no conclusions be 
 reached. 
 
 Monday, April 30th. — Yesterday, the first Sunday on board, was a 
 much happier day than we had reason to anticipate. At 10:30 A. m. 
 the ringing of a bell summoned all to attend Divine Service in the 
 saloon. Many responded, and of these, more men than women. Many 
 of the sailors were present. The English service was used, and for 
 the first time we prayed for the Queen and all the Royal Family of 
 England. Never before have I realized the bond of our common 
 ancestry — "enlinkingus to England's hope — the church we hold so 
 dear." The Bev Mr. Everest read the service and then spoke from the 
 text : " He led them by the right way that He might bring them to a 
 city of habitation." It was a comforting little discourse. The music 
 in which all joined was very sweet; one of the most interesting ladies 
 od board accompanying on the piano. Afterwards Ave spent some time 
 (in deck, where to our great distress many lounged, reading novels. 
 The sea grew very rough towards night and rain fell. To-day the sun 
 has shone brightly, but the wind has been so high as to render the 
 day rather unpleasant. It is said that eight sails were seen to-day, 
 and of these I saw four — those nearest us were brigs or sailing vessels, 
 mie of them bearing freight to Quebec. My sisters have made several 
 1 >lea sai it acquaintances, hut I have not been so fortunate. 
 
 St. Philip and St. James' Day. While sitting on deck this morn- 
 ing two of the gentlemen came up and asked if we would assist in 
 giving a concert for the benefit of the seamen's orphanage in Liverpool. 
 We promised that we would if able, but an adverse wind has given the 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 5 
 
 ship good work to do to-day and it has been almost impossible to get 
 around, so that the prospects for playing are not very bright. I am 
 much interested in the life of the sailors, stewards, waiters, &c. — they 
 are so cheerful, hopeful and willing to do anything for the passengers' 
 comfort, and their life must be such a hard one. Yesterday we saw 
 the sailors climb the ladders of ropes and take in the sails — a splendid 
 specimen of physical daring, and, being for a purpose, a grand sight. 
 
 Friday, May 4th — Yesterday was the Feast of the Ascension, and 
 often did our thoughts wander to the sweet service that faithful hearts 
 were holding on land. Last night occured the grand entertainment 
 in which everybody's energy seemed to culminate. It consisted in 
 vocal and instrumental music, recitations and speeches. N. played the 
 "Erl King" splendidly and A. and I came out well with Chopin's Pol- 
 onaise Brillante, upon which we were highly complimented. Captain 
 Dwyer, the beau of the ship and master of ceremonies, presented each 
 lady with an oleander-— i. e., ingeniously made from beets and turnips. 
 The sailor's stump speech was the most curious feature of the occasion. 
 Where he could have acquired the knowledge displayed in his ridicul- 
 ous jokes is mysterious. As a finale all joined in singing one verse of 
 "God Save the Queen" and one of "My Country 'tis of Thee." The 
 saloon was crowded and loud and long was the applause. To-day to 
 our great joy we reached Queenstown. When we came on deck this 
 morning and saw the Irish coast the sensation was unique; the sight 
 of land seemed unnatural and almost monstrous. A little steamboat 
 came up to us at noon ; we stopped, exchanged mails, a few passengers, 
 &c. ; saw Queenstown in the distance, though hail and rain soon put 
 a stop to this, and in a few minutes we resumed our way, pushing at 
 an exasperatingly sIoav rate on to Liverpool. One of the boys on board 
 has just given me some Irish cowslips and forget-me-nots, and they are 
 lovely. 
 
 London, Midland Grand Hotel, May 5th. — I do not know that 
 I could possibly be more buoyant than at present, for the whole day 
 has been such a delightful one. As Ave left the Bothnia and descended 
 into the tug, a letter from our dear friend, Miss B., was handed me, 
 saying that she would try to be with us to-night. It seemed like an 
 earnest of pleasure. When we landed at Liverpool and went into the 
 waiting-room I felt the full force of the novel surroundings. A. and 
 1ST. went out in search of our business agent, and while I was keeping 
 guard over our satchels, he came up, and inquired for Miss Trail. The 
 Liverpool wharves seem to be endless and all without was (typically) 
 dull, dreary, chilly, dirty and foggy. Into the Custom House to have 
 our baggage examined was the next step. The officer only opened the 
 sea-trunk, glanced at the surface and let us pass on our way ; but some 
 gentlemen's trunks were subjected to a most cruel overhauling. We 
 
6 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 then rode through Liverpool and thought the city an odd combination 
 of Baltimore and Cincinnati; saw St. George's Hall, a large public 
 building in an open square, on either side of which are bronze statues 
 of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, both on horse-back. The ride 
 from Liverpool to London was perfectly delightful. The green fields, 
 neal little houses and blossoming trees were a charming sight to eyes 
 long tired by the monotonous waves. Our young courier bought us a 
 delicious lunch, papers, &o, and as he is an American and has been 
 over here three years, gave us some valuable suggestions as to the dis- 
 posal of our time. Rugby and Nuneaton were the most interesting 
 places that we passed. Reaching London at 3:30, during a short ride 
 to the hotel, we saw very little of this great city ; the most noticeable 
 object being the Church of St. Pancras, built like a Greek temple, 
 colossal caryatides supporting the entablature. The Midland itself is 
 an immense gothic structure with an imposing stair-way, marble pil- 
 lars, palatial appartments and over all an air of great formality. 
 
 Monday, May 7th. — After returning to our room from our first 
 Table d' Hote, Saturday evening, we found Miss B. looking very well 
 and bright. As she wished to go out and buy a pair of gloves before 
 the shops closed, we agreed to go with her. The streets were pretty 
 well filled with people of all ages and all descriptions and we had a 
 rather exciting time trying to keep together. Sunday morning we 
 started off for Westminster Abbe} r , crossing the Thames Embankment 
 and seeing Somerset House (erected in 1786 and now used for public 
 offices), the Houses of Parliament, Waterloo Bridge, the London 
 School, (opened by the Prince and Princess of Wales, December 12, 
 1882, and a strikingly beautiful building), Westminster Hall, the Vic- 
 toria Tower, the Cleopatra's Needle, (erected September, 1878), and- a 
 cast of the Sphinx. But all objects of interest pale before the won- 
 drous Abbey, the home of England's illustrious dead, for 1,200 years 
 the site of a Christian church, around which associations of world-wide 
 splendor hover and abide; the shrine sacred to the memory of genius, 
 an earnest of man's immortality and a trophy snatched from the very 
 hand of the King of Terrors. We entered some time after the service 
 had commenced and were conducted by the stereotyped beadle in gown 
 and stall' to a seat in a transept, cutting us off from any real participa- 
 tion in the service. People were coming in and going out all the time 
 as if visiting an art gallery, and to us Americans, bred in the Puritan- 
 ism of a primitive people, the incongruity of this double worship was 
 almost shocking. Dean Bradley, the present Dean of the Abbey, 
 preached the sermon, and my sister N., who had a better seat than the 
 real of us, said his discourse did not compare favorably with those of 
 our own beloved rector at home. We sat near mural tablets in memo- 
 riam of musical composers and naval heroes, in the distance a bust of 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN" LANDS. 7 
 
 the immoral Dryden appearing, and a group turned from us, showing 
 only the name of Flaxman, tantalizing us with the prospect of its 
 beauty. After the sermon the congregation slowly withdrew, parents 
 pointing out noteworthy monuments to their children. Only a hand- 
 ful of the humble poor remained to partake of the Holy Communion 
 and all collected in the main aisle before the altar. To me it was a 
 glorious privilege, not only, as it always is, in a spiritual point of view, 
 but to enter into the very heart-history of the life of the Abbey and 
 breathe the atmosphere consecrated by so many faithful prayers. The 
 painting behind the altar is rich and gorgeous, and over the margin is 
 written " The Kingdoms of this World are become the Kingdoms of 
 our Lord and of His Christ," under the circumstances certainly a 
 statement of doubtful interpretation, when we remember Him who 
 said: " My Kingdom is not of this World." In our more agreeable 
 seats we discovered that the sermon must have been directed to a body 
 of young men, who, strange to say, were dressed in full ball costume? 
 not excepting beautiful button-hole bouquets. After service we walked 
 through the Cloisters, now crumbling and decaying before the rude 
 hand of time. Scarcely a step can be taken without passing a tomb, 
 monument, or tablet of some kind, for the very floor is paved with 
 them. One of these slabs records the death of the Wesley family, and 
 on another is written : " Under this stone are supposed to lie the 
 bones of twenty-six monks who died of the Black Death in 1394." 
 Both the interior and exterior of the Abbey are more defaced and time- 
 worn than I expected to find them, but the architecture remains intact 
 and is very stately and grand. It was very hard to be obliged to leave 
 after such a mere glimpse of its greatness. Coming out, we stopped to 
 notice the bronze statue of Beaconsfield which was only unveiled two 
 weeks ago. It must be a true portrait, for it represents a vain, shallow, 
 unmanly character. In the same square are statues of the great and 
 good Lord Palmerston and the Earl of Derby. It will always be in- 
 teresting to remember that we arrived in London on the eve of the 
 passage of the "Affirmation Bill," over which the nation has been 
 much excited, by three votes excluding infidels from Parliament. 
 Returning to the hotel we found Mrs. W. and her daughter, friends of 
 my sister B. inquiring for us. After a very pleasant chat with them 
 and lunch we went to the afternoon service at St. Paul's. It is a great 
 change from Westminster. The service was held beneath the dome 
 and the music was the most beautiful I ever heard. The angelic voices 
 of the boy choristers seemed to float down from Heaven itself. We had 
 the treat of hearing Dr. Stainer, the greatest living organist. The 
 sermon was by Canon Stubbs and was appropriate to the Sunday after 
 Ascension Day. The congregation consisted only of the plainest, 
 poorest kind of people, many of whom slept during the sermon, and a 
 
8 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 mot her and son near us were both intoxicated. On retiring, we noticed 
 the magnificent monument to the Duke of Wellington, the bronze 
 figure lying in a mighty catafalque. But as I have never been able to 
 get up any admiration for the Iron Duke, I did not linger before his 
 tomb. The chapel opposite is used for daily morning prayer. These 
 churches within a church are so strange and foreign to our ideas that 
 we cannot get used to them. The ceremony and formality here are also 
 vi'iv distasteful to us. I cannot imagine a greater incentive to intellec- 
 tual amhi! i«»n than a visit to these churches; they appeal to all the 
 worldly pride and vanity that one can foster. During the drive back 
 we saw Gray's Inn, where Dr. Johnson lived, and in the neighborhood 
 of which Lord Bacon wore away the painful period of his disgrace. 
 To-day we started out in a pouring rain at 10 a. m., and leaving Miss 
 l'».. proceeded to Half-Moon St., where Mrs. W. and her daughter have 
 their apartments. Madge accompanied us to South Kensington Mu- 
 seum, on the way pointing out Apsley House, the residence of the Duke 
 of Wellington, the beautiful and aristocratic homes in Piccadilly, Re- 
 gent's Park and the Natural History Museum-the handsomest building 
 we have seen yet, as dust and smoke have not had time to turn it dark. 
 South Kensington is an immense building and contains so much that 
 one scarcely knows how to divide the attention. On entering, we 
 stopped to notice the Swiss painted glass, of which the distinct figures 
 and rich coloring were beautiful. The arms of Queen Anne — upright 
 linns protecting an enormous shield, in wood carving, were noticeable. 
 This lower floor contained old inlaid furniture of seventeenth and eigh 
 teenth centuries ; a curious carved pulpit from a mosque at Cairo, &c. 
 There is a long corridor with windows of stained glass of the thir 
 teenth and fourteenth centuries. There are many interesting works of 
 sculpture here : Baily's Eve ; a collosal Marius; Babes in the Woods 
 in exquisite white marble by John Bell ; Ajax, crying for light ; a bust 
 of Mrs. Jameson on a pedestal inscribed with the most beautiful tribute 
 I ever read. The Architectural Court was the largest, and here are fac- 
 similes of the most famous carvings in the world; the Choir Stalls at 
 Ulm ; St. Sebald's Tomb at Nuremburg; Trajan's Column, in two 
 parts, and finest of all, the Chimney-piece from the Palais de Justice 
 at Bruges in which the elaborate, intricate and delicate tracery is mar- 
 velous. Occupying the entire Avail of the South End Gallery is a mag- 
 nificent fresco called the "Arts of War," by Sir F. Leighton, repre- 
 ting in brilliant colors the enthusiasts of the fourteenth century 
 irsting implements of war, trying on armour, &c, with an infinite 
 variety of attitudes and expressions. The side walls are divided into 
 thirty-six alcoves containing portraits, in mosaic, of eminent artists. 
 I noticed those of Fra Angelico, Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael, Torri- 
 giano and Michael Angelo. In passing through the numerous halls 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 9 
 
 we saw a Bronze of a Sacred Being destined to become a Buddha 
 (intended for a man, but with a sweetness of expression thoroughly 
 womanly, shining through features of gigantic proportions) from 
 Japan, and Chinese coral bowls exquisitely carved. In the Jones col- 
 lection we noticed a portrait of Marie Antoinette at the age of seven- 
 teen, very sweet; exquisite Sevres porcelain vases, plates, &c, and 
 miniatures of Mme. de Sevigne, Ninon de l'Enclos, Mine, de Pompadour, 
 Marie Antoinette, Queen Elizabeth, Mary of Scots and many others. 
 The praises of the first two in French Literature must be exaggerated, 
 for their portraits are not pretty. The paintings in the Sheepshanks 
 Collection were very fine. II Penseroso by Cope— a lovely girl looking 
 up with "the star-like sorrow of immortal eyes;" the Taming of the 
 Shrew; Florizel and Perdita (both with the most open, frank, ingenu- 
 ous faces); Autolycus, crying "Who'll Buy" were most interesting. 
 I was particularly fascinated with a scene from "Le Bourgeois Gentil- 
 homme" and one from " Les Femmes Savantes " — Tricotrin reading 
 his Sonnet. Pictures of Portia, Griselda and Portia with Bassanio 
 were perfectly lovely. Several of Turner's best pictures are here: 
 Venice; St. Michael's Mount; Vessel in Distress off Yarmouth were 
 fine. After much searching, walking and questioning we at last 
 reached the goal of our desires and stood before the grand Cartoons of 
 Raphael, the treasures of the Museum and the victory of Christianity 
 in Art. Each separate one is a drama; so marvelous is the action ex- 
 pressed in every form and feature. The figures are larger than life and 
 the colors are still brilliant. All seven are wonderful, but my favorite 
 was Paul and Barnabas refusing the homage at Lystra. I must not 
 forget to record that we took lunch in the beautiful Kefreshment 
 Rooms of the Museum, the stained glass, bas-reliefs of frieze and 
 daedo being by English artists. There are also wonderful casts and 
 models of Italian and Belgic works here for the benefit of those who 
 cannot get to the Continent. This morning we had the inestimable 
 privilege of going to the British Museum. My impatience to see the 
 Elgin marbles was so great that I could not look at anything else as 
 we passed through room after room, and so I missed the Kosetta Stone, 
 which my sisters saw. At last we reached the repository of the most 
 famous specimens of Art the world has ever seen or will ever see — the 
 Parthenon, over which Phidias and Pericles rejoiced and gloried — the 
 expression not of an estheticism but of a pure and lofty passion, and 
 yet a passion free from dross, intense in its individuality and yet des- 
 tined to express nationality, — who can show forth all it praise? We 
 turned from the monstrosities of Egypt to the symeirical forms, perfect 
 proportions and faultless faces of Greece and we could not have viewed 
 the latter from a better stand-point. In the Eastern Pediment the fig- 
 ure of Theseus is almost perfect and far grander then the photographs 
 
10 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 ;ind cuts indicate. Iris, hastening to announce the birth of Athene (in 
 which rigid marble is made to set forth rapid motion), Nike, the Three 
 Fates and the horses heads reveal that passionless, heroic, exalted con- 
 ception of Art which none but the Greeks ever entertained. The 
 impersonality, the serenity, the intellectual freedom in which that 
 greal people rejoiced still characterize their wondrous works and ex- 
 plain their superiority over all other sculptors. The figures of the 
 Western Pediment are much mutilated, but the metopes (in very high 
 relief J and the frieze arranged in order around the room are well pre- 
 served and distinct. There are other Hellenic works scattered through 
 this and the adjoining rooms : the Hermes by Praxiteles; two statues 
 representing an athlete winding a diadem around his head after the 
 Diadumenos of Polykleitos and a Roman copy of the Discobolus of 
 Alkamenes, busts of Pericles, iEschines and the exquisite figure of 
 Demeter, in which melancholy is more beautiful than mirth could pos- 
 sibly be. AVe also saw the Phigalian marbles of the Temple of Apollo 
 representing the mysterious invasion of the Amazons We examined 
 the Lycian Ionic Temple, known as the Nereid Monument, One feels 
 aw( -struck in looking on the very works which existed more than 
 2,200 years ago. The Indian Sculptures of the Buddhist Tope were 
 curious and beautiful, and the Egyptian collection here is incompara- 
 ble. There were several young girls and young men copying the great 
 works in crayon. The British Museum is the most magnificent place 
 for study that I have ever seen; it is impossible not to feel a noble 
 envy of those who have frequent access to its treasures. 
 
 On Monday when returning from South Kensington Museum we 
 walked through Kensington Gardens, saw Hyde Park and the fashion- 
 able equipages dashing into its broad roads, and had a view of the 
 recently completed Albert Memorial, a thoroughly modern and most 
 magnificent monument. The gilded figure of the Prince sits in a 
 canopy rising to the height of one hundred and eighty feet, this 
 canopy being gorgeously frescoed and gilded. Around the base there 
 arc one hundred and sixty statues of illustrious men in alto-relievo, 
 while at the four corners of the square are groups of sculpture symbol- 
 ically representing America, Europe, Asia and Africa, the animal of 
 the first, a buffalo; of the second, a bull ; of the third, an elephant 
 and of the fourth, a camel. Opposite this monument is the Albert 
 Hall, a circular grand Opera House. 
 
 THURSDAY, May 10th. — On Tuesday night the other members of 
 our party arrived at the Midland, and next morning we started out 
 with Dr. II., Mr. and Miss L. — the new-comers delivering themselves 
 entirely to our guidance. We rode through Trafalgar Square, in the 
 centre of which towers the lofty shaft crowned by the figure of Nelson, 
 which pierces the clouds. There are other fine statues in the square 
 
MY JOURNAL IN tfORElIGN LANDS. 11 
 
 and two bronze lions at the entrance which look as if they might get 
 up and walk around when they felt like it. Just in front of all this 
 grandeur there is a little equestrian statue of Charles I, whose weak 
 face looks pitiful in this vicinity. This is the site of Queen Eleanor's 
 Cross and the place of the execution of the Kegicidcs. We went then 
 to the National Gallery. It was our first sight of a fine collection of 
 the great masters, and we were enchanted. On the ground floor, cover- 
 ing one side of the room, was a most curious painting titled " The 
 Worship of Bacchus" by Cruikshank ; the one picture was made up 
 of many small ones, showing the temptations, orgies and effects of that 
 worship. A portrait of Benjamin West by himself and a dark weird 
 landscape by Salvator Rosa completed the number here. Up-stairs — the 
 Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca by Claude was lovely ; an extended and 
 serene landscape with gracious, joyous figures in the fore-ground, all 
 distinct and richly colored. The Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba 
 with its oriental, golden light was charming. Two tender, brown-eyed 
 girls by Greuze were lovely. A Sun-rise, and Dido building Carthage 
 by Turner, Guido's Ecce Homo and Magdalen — 1 hough too faded and 
 washed out, very striking in expression; the Adoration of (he Magi 
 by Paolo Veronese ;* Guido's You thful Christ and St. John, a perfect 
 work, and Carlo Dope's Madonna and Child cannot soon be forgotten. 
 But what long and laborious initiation it requires to take in the beau- 
 ties of a work of art in a short time and so impress them on the mental 
 camera as to carry away a distinct recollection ! The room containing 
 Avorks of the Dutch School was interesting. The Apotheosis of Wil- 
 liam the Silent by Eubens in which the hero is carried by angels up 
 to the very Throne of Heaven, and over all a haze, giving a vague, 
 shadowy effect is exceedingly odd. Congress of Minister by Terburg 
 in which every face is distinct and individualized was wonderful. 
 Many of these pictures look as if they were printed or stamped and 
 then colored, so exact and precise is every outline. Meeting of Theo- 
 dosins and St. Ambrose by Vandyck was a fine Historical illustration. 
 Portrait of Christina, Princess of Denmark, by Holbein, showed a poor, 
 freightened little maiden, but sweet and quaint withal. The Brazen 
 Serpent by Rubens giving a clear conception of the wonderful story is 
 grand beyond expression. Several rooms of Frescoes by the Venetian 
 and Flemish Schools, in which the colors are more brilliant than any 
 that we ever see in modern painting, are full of interest. The room de- 
 voted to Turner's storms, seas, sun-rises and settings did not attract me. 
 It seems to me he has obstinately insisted upon putting on canvas sub- 
 jects beyond the province of art and not to be transferred by man. 
 Still, in some specific scenes he has shown himself a master when he 
 chose to be. The Virgin and Child by Leonardo da Vinci, dark, and 
 of a thoroughly Italian cast of countenance, was very beautiful. It is 
 
12 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 noticeable that these lovely Madonnas by the Italian masters are evi- 
 dent lv portraits of a type of beauty joining the Greek with the Roman, 
 and never betray any semblance to the typical Jewish physiognomy. I 
 did not like Titian's Madonna and Child; it was too sombre and life- 
 less. His Rape of Ganymede — the figure on the back of an enormous 
 eagle was better; and the Family of Darius at the feet of Alexan- 
 der by Paolo Veronese was splendid; Corregio's Ecce Homo, Raphael's 
 Pope Julius II. (recognized immediately from the steel engravings) 
 Murillo's dark, sweet, subdued Holy Family and a portrait of Philip 
 IV. by Velasquez are the master-pieces of the collection. The English 
 rooms were charming, but we had not time to enjoy them. There were 
 two fascinating portraits of Mrs. Siddons, one by Gainsborough and the 
 other by Sir Joshua Reynolds, differing very much from each other. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds by himself was good. Christ Healing the Sick in 
 the Temple by Benjamin West compared favorably with any work of 
 the Italians. There was a lovely, large picture entitled the Play in 
 Hamlet, in which Ophelia is a lovely, languid blonde and Hamlet a 
 portrait, as my sister thought, of Booth, dark, tragic, gloomy. Land- 
 seer's dogs, Reynolds' and Gainsborough's portraits completed the col- 
 lection. We then hurried off, post-haste, to Whitehall Chapel. It is 
 a dark, ugly building externally, and, after ascending a dark, winding 
 flight of stairs one enters a plain and unprepossessing chapel. The 
 ceiling is frescoed handsomely but it is too dark to decipher. This is 
 all that remains of the famous Palace, and this hall was the banquet- 
 ing hall of Henry VIII. and here he first met Anne Boleyn. Here 
 Wolsey lived and caroused. From the middle window Charles I. 
 stepped out to die. There is no spot richer in Historical associations. 
 In the afternoon our whole party at the Midland started out with a 
 young English conductor in a large open vehicle and rode first to 
 Guildhall. In the entrance hall are most magnificent monuments to 
 Pitt, Chatham, Nelson and Beckford. At one end are two colossal 
 figures called Gog and Magog. In the council chamber there was an 
 immense oil-painting of the Murder of Rizio; opposite, a full length 
 portrait of Victoria in her royal robes. Underneath these pictures 
 were beautiful white marble busts of the Prince and Princess of Wales. 
 In the vestibule there was a fine portrait of Mr. Peabody. The base- 
 ment is used for a Free Library, which' was crowded with readers, and 
 the City .Museum which contains excavations made in England only, 
 and many interesting fragments of the Roman period. There are full 
 length portraits of William and Mary here. We then rode to the Bank 
 of England, where the pulse of the world can be felt, but we did not 
 see anything of note here and continued our way to the Tower. It 
 is rather a collection of towers and buildings than a Tower. We went 
 at once to see the Crown Jewels or Regalia. They are kept in a large 
 
MY journal in foreign Lands. IS 
 
 glass case, and there shine and sparkle in unmolested grandeur. Queen 
 Victoria's Crown contains a large ruby said to have been given to the 
 Black Prince by Don Pedro of Castile, and worn by Henry V. at A gin- 
 court. Poor Anne Boleyn's Crown excited our interest. I could 
 think of nothing but her unhappy fate while in these awful precincts. 
 Charles II. 's Crown, the pointless sword of mercy, the sceptres, the 
 maces, the gold salt-cellars used at the coronation banquets and other 
 interesting things were in this case. Leaving this room we ascended 
 stairways shrouded in mid-night darkness and found it hard to keep 
 our footing on the steps worn away by the tread of human feet. The 
 armor of the Middle-Ages and Renaissance is displayed ad-infinitum, 
 and in the same hall is the block on which Lord Lovatt was executed, 
 and the axe with which Essex was decapitated; also an equestrian 
 figure of Queen Elizabeth on her way to St, Paul's to return thanks 
 for the destruction of the Spanish Armada. There are thumb-screws, 
 racks and other instruments of torture preserved here. We saw the 
 corner in which the sons of Edward IV. were murdered, and the alcove 
 in which Edward VI. was found dead. We had but a glance in Beau- 
 champ Tower; saw the queer devices cut in the stone by the unhappy 
 prisoners ; that of Scott's Peveril is one of the most distinct ; that of 
 John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland and Earl of W T arwick who 
 died here, one of the most elaborate. In the court we stood on the 
 spot, now marked by a square slate slab, where Anne Boleyn was exe- 
 cuted, and opposite Beauchamp is the prison in which Kaleigh lan- 
 guished for twelve long years. We could not prevail upon our conductor 
 or the immense " beef eater " who acts as a guide here to take us into 
 the burial ground where Sir Thomas More and the many great ones 
 executed here are buried. Driving on we drew up at St. Paul's just as 
 the Festival of the Sons of the Clergy was in full blast. We pushed 
 our way through the immense crowd and found ourselves in time to 
 hear some glorious music rendered by several hundred voices and a full 
 orchestra. To the people the great event was to see the Lord Mayor 
 leave the church and get into his gilded coach. The crowd became 
 greater and greater and as the last strains of Handel's Hallelujah 
 Chorus died away the excitement became intense. Finally the Flun- 
 keys — handsome young men with powdered hair and long tailed coats 
 rushed in, and his eminence attended or rather accompanied by several 
 dignitaries in red velvet and gold lace, left the church. This morning 
 (Thursday) we were anxious to see about making arrangements to 
 accept an invitation to dine at St. Hilda's College, tendered by Miss B. 
 Our conductor failing to keep his appointment we took a cab and went 
 around to his office, feeling very independent. In the afternoon, open 
 carriages drove up and we started on the most charming drive through 
 Hyde Park. Beautiful equipages dashed up and down and there were 
 
14 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 some pretty children riding horse-back in Rotten Row. It was the day 
 of the Queen's Drawing- Room at Buckingham Palace, and great crowds 
 had collected to see the Prince of Wales pass hence to St. James'. 
 This gaping curiosity to see a man so unworthy of a thought disgusted 
 me. Mounted Guards stood at every few paces like statues. St. James 
 Palace is low, dark and ugly. Buckingham is of the prevailing Lon- 
 don color, — pale buff— and handsomer. We saw the noble young ladies 
 in their white silks and veils with immense bouquets returning in state 
 from l he royal reception. We rode through Pall Mall (which is pro- 
 nounced Pael Mael)', Grosvenor Square, Belgravia, where the aristoc- 
 racy live, and saw the little narrow, plain row of houses in which Glad- 
 stone lives. At last we reached our Mecca and entered Westminster 
 Abbey. In St. Edmund's Chapel we saw a recumbent statue on an 
 altar-tomb of John of Eltham, Earl of Cornwall, 1334; recumbent 
 statues of Blanche and William, children of Edward III., 1340; an 
 altar tomb over Francis, Duchess of Suffolk, 1563; a mural monument 
 to Lady Jane Seymour, 1560, and in the floor the gravestone of Edward 
 Bulwer Lytton, 1873. It is this very incongruity that renders West- 
 minster so fascinating. Time has no dominion here; it is an everlast- 
 ing present. In St. Nicholas' Chapel we saw a recumbent figure 
 beneath a recessed arch of Anne, Duchess of Somerset, mother of 
 Queen Jane Seymour and wife of Protector Somerset, 1587; Mildred, 
 wife of the great Lord Burleigh, lying on the sarcophagus with kneel- 
 ing figures of her son and grand-daughters at the feet. In Henry 
 VII.'s Chapel saw the effigies of Henry and his Queen, Elizabeth of 
 York. Edward VI. is said to be buried under the altar. There is a 
 recumbent effigy and grand sarcophagus all in white marble over Mary, 
 Queen of Scots. Here are buried under bluish slabs with simply the 
 name in gilt letters, Charles II., William III. and Mary, Queen Anne 
 and George II. Farther on there is a recumbent effigy of Queen Eliz- 
 abeth elevated so high that we could scarcely see the figure. There is 
 no monument or record of Bloody Mary here, but she, James I. and 
 Queen Anne of Denmark are buried here without comment. In an 
 alcove is the gravestone of Lady Augusta Stanley, 1876, and the beau- 
 tiful memorial window erected by her devoted husband : and here, in 
 the midst of these musty old scenes that he loved so dearly, is the 
 newly-made grave of the good Dean, still covered with tributes of 
 affection. In St. Paul's chapel the most interesting thing was a colos- 
 sal statue of James Watt, 1819, looking very singular among the old 
 tablets and recumbent figures. In St. Erasmus' chapel we saw the 
 tomb of J. Islip, Abbot of Westminster, 1532. In St. John the Evan- 
 gelist's chapel there is a beautiful bust and mural pedestal with most 
 touching inscription to Sir John Franklin ; a colossal statue of Sarah 
 Siddons as Lady Macbeth, and a monument to Lady Nightingale, 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN" LANDS. 15 
 
 representing the skeleton Death starting from the tomb to seize the 
 young wife of twenty in her husband's arms. On the south side of the 
 choir we saw the tomb of King Seberfc, whose bones were found pre- 
 served after the lapse of seven hundred years. On the north side saw 
 statue of Gen. Wolfe, supported and surrounded by various figures. 
 In Poet's corner we saw profile medallion of Thomas Gray, bust on 
 pedestal of Dryden, bust of Southey, statue of Campbell, statue of 
 Shakespeare leaning over a scroll and pointing to the words from the 
 "Tempest": "The cloud-capped towers," &c ; tablet to Nicholas 
 Kowe and his daughter Charlotte ; medallion of Gay with "Life is a 
 jest, " &c. Goldsmith aud Addison, who often wandered here, and 
 have written so charmingly of the Abbey, are remembered. There is 
 a bust of Grote, monument to Handel, splendid monument to Chat- 
 ham, "under whose administration Providence raised Great Britain to 
 an unexampled height of prosperity and glory ;" anarchy and history, 
 symbolized as women, stand helow the great speaker. There are 
 gravestones over Dickens, Fox, G rat tan, Pitt and Livingstone I must 
 not forget the Coronat^o 1 chairs (plain stone arm-chairs), the one in 
 which all English sovereigns, since Edward I., have been crowned, 
 and the other made for the joint coronation of William and Mary. 
 Under the first, the guide told us, was the famous Scone stone, on 
 which Scottish kings, from time immemorial, were crowned, and 
 which originally was Jacob's pillow. There seemed to be many 
 Americans going around that day, and of course this was received 
 with open and undisguised ridicule. We saw the chamber in which 
 the sovereigns robe themselves for coronation, and the exceedingly 
 small one in which the ceremony takes place. During this afternoon's 
 ride we had again the opportunity to get out and see the Albert Me- 
 morial, and I hailed it with delight, as I had not examined the bas- 
 relief statues. They were all portrait-statues, and most intensely 
 interesting to me. Those that I now remember were Homer, Shake- 
 speare, Dante, Milton, Chaucer, Spenser, Tasso, Anosto, Corneille, 
 JVloliere, Racine, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Weber, Beethoven, Puget, Ger- 
 ard, Poussin, Salvator Rosa, Vernet, Vanlyck, Virgil, Byron, Claude, 
 Rubens, Raphael, Michael Angelo, Corregio, only one woman among the 
 160 figures, and that was Nitocris — the fair and learned Egyptian. 
 Every one occupies a different attitude, and excites a separate interest. 
 We three sisters then left the party and went on the underground 
 railway to Hampstead to dine with Miss B. ; had no difficulty in find- 
 ing Westfield, and soon were ushered in the dearest little house I ever 
 saw. St -Hilda's College is an infant institution of the profoundest 
 interest and widest bearings — a school preparatory to matriculation 
 at the University of London, whose examinations are more rigid than 
 any in the United Kingdom. We went at once to dinner, and met ten 
 
L6 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 or eleven charming English ladies. Miss Maynard, the Principal, is, 
 without exception, the lovliest and most attractive person I ever saw. 
 She was the first woman to take the Degree for Moral Philosophy at 
 Cambridge. The establishment consists of two houses on the cottage 
 order, furnished most tastefully and conveniently. The windows 
 throughout have stained glass, the furniture is small and ebonized, 
 audit is the abode of intelligent and refined people. The students 
 were as jolly, full of life and fun, as it is possible fo be, and the tea, 
 made in Miss B.'s room, was perfectly delightful. We took a cab and 
 rode at 9J P. M. back to the hotel, very proud of the entire achieve- 
 ment. 
 
 FRIDAY — We have spent the whole clay at Windsor Castle and a 
 most charming day it has been ! We were joined by Mr. and Mrs. S. 
 and with Mr. B. as our guide and leader set off in high spirits. Dur- 
 ing the journey we made the acquaintance of a pleasant English lady 
 who asked us many questions about our country. As soon as we 
 arrived at Windsor we ascended a hill to enjoy the view of Eton and 
 in the distance Stoke-pogis. The Thames winding along like a silvery 
 thread through the green meadows, the woods and blue hills beyond, 
 the little churches, college buildings, &c, make up a very lovely land- 
 scape. We were taken then to the Albert Memorial Chapel, in which 
 the Queen has tried to show what she thought worthy of her royal 
 consort. This is a dazzling testimony. There is not an inch of the in- 
 terior that does not claim attention. It is a mass of mosaics, frescoes, 
 precious stones, gold, marble and stained glass. The walls are covered 
 with pictures of Bible scenes mournful and appropriate in character 
 and these are colored etchings in marble and give a peculiarly beauti- 
 ful, pale effect. Above these are pure white marble busts of the royal 
 children, very sweet and innocent. Between the pictures are panels of 
 flowers and texts in richest mosaics and precious stones. The Sarco- 
 phagus and effigy of Albert in armor with a faithful dog at his feet in 
 whitest marble is a magnificent monument. The angels and mourners 
 on the base are beautiful, and on each side are the words: "I have 
 fought a good fight, I have finished my course." The Altar-piece of 
 the Risen Christ kneeling and pointing upward with one hand which 
 shows the print of the nails, and with angels on each side is exquisite. 
 St. George's Chapel is full ot interest. It is made gorgeous by the 
 banners bearing coats of arms, which here are new and fresh while in 
 Westminster they are dread fully dingy and tattered. What in the 
 world these had to do with a church I was unable to discover, but have 
 just been informed by my sister that they are the banners of the 
 Knights of the Garter and each one hangs above the stall which the 
 Knight occupies. Here are buried Henry VIII, Jane Seymour and 
 Charles I. The stained glass is very rich and beautiful and the carv- 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 17 
 
 ing elaborate. In an alcove is a monument as lovely as it is pathetic, 
 to the poor young Prince Imperial, the inscription making him say 
 that he died cherishing a profound regard for the Queen of England 
 and gratitude towards the English people. We "were taken through 
 the Royal Stables and Carriage Houses and admired all duly; finish- 
 ing up with a long drive through Windsor Park, in the middle of which 
 we left the carriages and took a long, long walk by Virginia Water to 
 see the Ruins of Carthage, set up in a most picturesque spot and look- 
 ing very romantic. While sweeping through the stately avenues of 
 Windsor our carriages were suddenly stopped by an outrider to make 
 way for a very plain close carriage. Many of us scarcely gave it a 
 glance, but my sister N. looking in, saw the Queen herself, taking her 
 daily airing. We saw the fine bronze statue of George III. on Snow- " 
 hill and the Mausoleum in which the remains of the 'Prince Consort 
 rest. It was 10 p. m. when we reached the Midland.- 
 
 Paris, May 12th. — Sustained by the thought of returning to Lon- 
 don, we managed to tear ourselves away. On the way to the depot, 
 we saw the magnificent General Postoffice, the impenetrable exterior 
 of Newgate, in the Old Bailey, Furnival's Inn, St. Martins-in-the 
 Fields and many other interesting old churches. A rather rough rail- 
 way ride brought us to Folkestone. The most interesting feature of 
 this was the passing through Chislehurst, where the desolate ex-Em- 
 press Avears away the weary hours of her unhappy destiny. From the 
 train at Folkestone we stepped at once on the boat for Boulogne, now 
 escorted by our Italian Conductor, Mr. Daziano. It had been raining 
 for some time, and the channel was unusually rough, so that we had 
 not been on a moment before we began to plunge up and down despe- 
 rately, while the deck was covered with water. All were obliged to 
 go below, and I was soon affected by the intolerable swell and suffered 
 severely, being for the first time out and out sea-sick. Many men, 
 stretched out like corpses, groaned and cried aloud with the pain- 
 We all hailed land with delight. I will never forget my impressions 
 on landing in France. The people seemed to be acting, and the lan- 
 guage sounded lovely after the harsh, discordant voices of the English. 
 The ride from Boulogne to Paris was through a wild and uncultivated 
 country, and only marked by a lunch at Amiens, when we came near 
 losing our train. Paris, bright, beautiful and dazzling, was not 
 reached until 9 p.m. I enjoyed the ride to the Hotel de Malte, and 
 am about to retire, while all the others have gone out to haunt the 
 cafe's and arcades for a few moments at least. 
 
 May 14th. — After the rain and fog of England, we think we never 
 have seen the sun shine as it does here. Yesterday being Sunday, 
 four of us attended the American Episcopal church in Rue Bayard, and 
 as it was Whitsun Day, we heard a most beautiful and helpful sermon. 
 
18 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 from the gifted rector. On leaving the church I whs confronted by 
 one of my brother's friends living here, Mr. R., and joined by others 
 of our party we ail walked back through the Champs Elysees and Le 
 .Jardin des Tnileries, now in all their glory, and more beautiful than 
 any pen can describe. Magnificently mounted statues and sculptured 
 groups arc scattered regularly through the grounds, among others 
 the celebrated representation of the Nile. On our homeward way we 
 Btopped in the Madeline. It occupies a magnificent position, and, 
 externally, is a worthy representation of the Parthenon. The interior 
 is harmonious and striking. Service was in process, and the altars 
 blazed with lights. At each altar, through the length of the church 
 (which is only lighted from above) there is a colossal, pure white mar- 
 ble statue, and the grand altar-piece is a group entitled the Assump- 
 tion, standing out without background. The fresco above this 
 represents great men, among whom Napoleon is prominent, seated 
 around the Throne in Heaven. Red satin hangings, gold vases, profu- 
 sions of flowers and grand paintings made the scene dazzling The 
 organ rolled out its richest chords, and the priests, loaded with red 
 velvet and gold lace cloaks, chanted in most sonorous strains. The 
 devotion of the worshippers seemed sincere, and many were of a re- 
 spectable and interesting aspect. This morning Mr. R. called at 10 
 o'clock to act as our cicerone for the day. After a good view of the 
 Hotel de Ville (which, destroyed by the Commune in '71, is now being 
 splendidly rebuilt), we descended the steps of Notre Dame. There is 
 no temptation to question its antiquity. It is dingy, tawdry and 
 gloomy, and so immense that one ferls completely lost while wandering 
 from altar to altar. We were taken in a side chamber and shown the 
 heirlooms and treasures of the Cathedral ; the cloak worn by Napoleon 
 at his coronation here : sacred gold vessels used by various kings and pre- 
 sented by others — some being given by Marie Antoinette; the robes 
 worn by the priests at the Baptism of the Prince Imperial, which were 
 gorgeous with precious stones, and far exceeded anything of the kind 
 Ave hadeverseen. There were also relicsof the Archbishop A/pre, killed 
 by the Commune. Mr. R. then took us to the Morgue, and we actu- 
 ally saw two bodies exposed — a most frightful sight, but too horrible 
 to seem at all real. We enjoyed a visit to the Musee de Cluny, dating 
 from 148<). and containing a curious collection of carvings, tapestry, 
 glass, porcelain, arms, the gorgeous state carriages of Louis XIV., &c, 
 «xc. The jaw-bone of Moliere is kept carefully under a glass case. 
 After this we all went to the Pantheon, the exterior of which is mag- 
 nificent. On the pediment are the words: "Aux grands homines la 
 panic reconnaissante ; " but there are monuments here to very few 
 great men, and of these few none are those whom the world has agreed 
 to call truly great, though I myself believe that Voltaire was permitted 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 19 
 
 to be one of the greatest benefactors mankind has ever known. There 
 were workmen of all descriptions engaged in the interior, and we did 
 not have an opportunity to walk around much, but gave ourselves up 
 to the enjoyment of the magnificent frescoes, which are bright and 
 beautiful copies of Raphael's Stanze by the brothers Baize. I cannot 
 remember the subjects distinctly, and fear I did not make the proper 
 effort, allowing myself to be too much absorbed and dazzled by the 
 temporary pleasure. As we rode away we had a fine view of the noble 
 bronze, equestrian statue of Henri IV., which adorns one of the bridges 
 crossing the Seine. There is so much dignity and manliness about it, 
 one cannot but believe he was worthy of trust and confidence. By the 
 time we reached the hotel we were very, very tired, and glad to spend 
 the few remaining hours of the day in our rooms. 
 
 Tuesday, May 15th. — Another exquisite day, which we determined 
 to make the best of, and immediately after breakfast seated ourselves 
 in pretty and comfortable coupes to drive in the Bois de Boulogne. 
 From our hotel we passed through the Place de la Concorde, the Jar- 
 din des Tuileries and the Champs Elysees, and dashing beneath the 
 shadow of the glorious Arc de l'Etoile found ourselves in the fashion- 
 able drive of the world's gayest city. At first I should think no 
 American could fail to be somewhat disappointed, especially in the 
 trees and the perfectly flat landscape. But we enjoyed seeing the 
 many different vehicles and riders of every Aspect, and the roads being- 
 level, all dash along madly. The artificial water-works were not play- 
 ing, but we stopped to enjoy the little green hillock, against the side 
 of which the rocks are heaped up for the water to flow over. As we 
 neared the brilliant cafe, one of our party — Mr. L. — kindly sug- 
 gested that we should rest and take some ices. As it was about 11 a. 
 m., the Parisians were taking their " Dejeuner a la fourchette, " and 
 every one seemed to enjoy the inviting viands spread out on the showy 
 tablets, both inside and outside of the building. After another nice 
 drive on the outskirts of the park, where the road is lined with elegant 
 villas — making the nearest approach to home life of any houses 
 we have seen in Paris — we alighted at the Palace of the Trocadero — 
 the remaining building of the last Universal Exhibition held here. 
 The colonade forms an amphitheatre over four hundred feet in circum- 
 ference, and the site of the Palace is an elevated plateau, so that the 
 view of the city is superb, while below, in the Champs de Mars, the 
 view of the Tracadero is just as fine in its way. It contains a perma- 
 nent museum which promises to be very interesting. There are some 
 fine fragments in marble, portions- of the grand old French cathedrals 
 of the Dark and Middle Ages, and tombs in white marble with recum- 
 bent effigies — many of celebrated personages. There are also numer- 
 ous casts, one of Catherine de Medici's interested me much. To 
 
20 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 my surprise the chin was rettuse, and the whole face very Weak. Our 
 next stopping place was before the Hotel des Invalides — at the side- 
 walk, as a high iron railing prevents carriages from entering. A 
 gravel walk leads up to the imposing entrance, and soon we found 
 ourselves in one of the most solemn of all spots on earth. Directly 
 under the Dome is a circular balustrade of white marble, which one 
 soon perceives forms' an opening in the floor of the church. Around 
 this gallery everyone leans and looks down. There, shrined in a 
 mighty sarcophagus of dark brown granite, which is elevated on seve- 
 ral foundations, and seems large enough to contain the bodies of at 
 least ten men, rests the handful of ashes which were once animated by 
 the spirit of Napoleon. Could anything so preach the vanity of all 
 earthly things as this tomb? There is something terribly mournful 
 and solemn about it. One feels as if in the immediate presence of 
 death, while in Westminster there is not the slightest consciousness of 
 this. Around the floor of the tomb there is a wreath of laurel wound 
 with royal purple in mosaics, and within this circle is another on 
 which are the names of the most celebrated battles — separated by 
 stars — Wagram, Austerlitz, Jena, Marengo, &c. Against the walls 
 of the crypt, and facing the tomb, are twelve pure white stat- 
 ues of colossal women by Pradier. Almost every one of them 
 holds a bay or laurel branch, as if to cast it on the tomb. They are 
 severely beautiful, and seem to say, "All, all is over. '' In the inter- 
 vening spaces hang clusters of the tattered, dusty, faded flags which 
 have known so many bloody conflicts. Behind the altar is the en- 
 trance to the crypt, and above the bronze door (on either side of which 
 stand bronze caryatides holding the globe sceptre and imperial crown) 
 are the words of Napoleon's last will : " Je desire que mes cendres 
 reposent sur les bonis de la Seine an milieu de ce peuple Francais 
 que j'ai tant airae. " It is the absence of name and date that lends 
 such an incomparable grandeur to this monument, I believe. In 
 this vestibule behind the altar there are monuments dedicated to Mar- 
 shals Dnroc and Bertrand, who never swerved in their fidelity or love. 
 This high altar alluded to is very beautiful ; ten white marble steps 
 mark the ascent, and I will never forget how the sun streamed through 
 the lofty windows and glorified the brilliant gilding, the spiral col- 
 umns of bluish black marble and the gorgeous frescoes. Turenne and 
 Vauban are buried herein beautiful white marble tombs, as well as 
 other members of the Bonaparte family, all in alcoves lvhich have no 
 connection with the one great tomb. Near the entrance to the church 
 is a little bit of a house, and here are sold photographs of these memo- 
 rable scenes. Very poor, and rather untidy people seem to eke out an 
 existence in this way. As we continued our ride on this side of the 
 Seine the fascinating exterior of the Bon Marche arrested our atten- 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANt)g. 21 
 
 tion, and, going in, we enjoyed the privilege of selecting some of the 
 many pretty little things spread before ns in such fine array. Here 
 we all separated and agreed to meet again in the Louvre. We sisters 
 felt very strange indeed "when we entered the immense court of the 
 Louvre alone. It is almost impossible to give an idea of the rich ex- 
 ternal decoration of this vast Palace. Symbolical figures, sculptured 
 in high relief, adorn the entablature of its whole length; while full 
 length statues of great men stand above the roof and in every possible 
 niche. The entire building is of the same color throughout — the 
 limestone having turned from white to a clear gray. Though I know 
 very little of architecture, it seems to me this decoration is too heavy 
 to be beautiful; but it is certainly impressive enough to be grand. 
 We soon saw that there was no possible way of discovering, unaided, 
 the one out of the fifteen museums we wished to enter, and accosted a 
 refined and intelligent looking young Frenchman. He fully sustained 
 the national reputation for courtesy, did not hesitate to recross the 
 river with us, and after flattering us, by implying that we had the air of 
 students, left us to proceed safely on our way. We first entered the Salle 
 des Seances, containing the Collection Lacaze. It is a beautiful, long, 
 narrow hall, and contains the following fine paintings: several lovely 
 heads of children and young girls by Greuze; a portrait of a lady 
 (dreamy and fanciful) by Angelica Kauffman, and opposite this an 
 ecpially lovely one, by Mme. Vigee Lebrun. So let those who think 
 women have never accomplished anything visit the Louvre. The pic- 
 ture of the Three Graces is considered one of the finest here, and the 
 flesh tint certainly is wonderful, but the whole is lacking in subjectiv- 
 ity. There are several pretty landscapes, pictures of animals by Syn* 
 &«% and an occasional single figure by Rubens and Vandyke. Passing 
 hence one is almost startled by the brilliancy and size of the paintings. 
 In this Salle des Sept Cheminees every picture expresses some dramatic 
 action, and it is fascinating in the extreme. David's Leonidas, at the 
 Thermopylae, hangs directly above his Sabine women, and both are of 
 crystalline clearness and brilliancy. Bonaparte visiting the Plague- 
 stricken at Jaffa, the Battle-field of Eylau, Lady Macbeth in Duncan's 
 chamber, Pheedra & Hippolytus, the Burial of Atala (one of the most 
 touching of Chateaubriand's lovely works), in which the lover's an- 
 guish and the deep repose of the unsullied girl are perfect, Diana and 
 Endymion were all remarkably striking and vivid. The deep reds and 
 glorious orange tints of these pictures are almost beautiful enough to 
 absorb one's whole attention, even if they clothed no figures and an- 
 swered no purpose. There were many other works worthy of an atten- 
 tion which we could not give at this time, for we felt an irresistible 
 desire to see the chefs d'ouvres of sculpture, which are on the ground 
 floor. The Venus de Milo stands at the end of a long gallery filled 
 
22 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 with ancient works, and is enclosed by a railing, lifted on a lofty ped- 
 estal, and provided with a back-ground of dark maroon velvet. All 
 the talking in the world and all the books would never convince me 
 that this grand, calm, strong, self-sufficient woman was either a love- 
 demanding or a love-bestowing goddess. There she stands, almost 
 smiling contemptuously on the stream of mortals that pay her un- 
 ceasing homage, and can never wrest her secret from her. Her beauty 
 is not in the least etherial ; yet it is altogether unearthly ; unap- 
 proachable, divine. The marble is not defaced, and seems to be pe- 
 culiarly soft and pliant. It would be hard to take one's eyes from this 
 were there not so many other splendid works here. Among the nu- 
 merous Minervas, all of the purest age of art, stands the unrivalled 
 Pallas of Velletri. An eternal sentinel, free from every trace of 
 weakness, she shows forth the perfect conception of the dignity, the 
 repose, the majesty of wisdom. The dreamy, graceful Polyhymnia, 
 the gigantic, stern Melpomene, sweet, gentle Euterpe, and numerous 
 minor Fauns, Cupids and Satyrs can be passed by until one reaches a 
 Diana Venatrix — a glorious Personification of Freedom — the ideal 
 of a subjective Liberty that is pure, peaceable and lawful. It has not 
 taken me long to record the memorable objects here, but by this time 
 we were completely exhausted, and could scarcely drag one foot after the 
 other, when we finally reached the Hotel. Nevertheless, when the lights 
 began to glitter, and the whole world seemed to beout of doors enjoying 
 the gorgeous display of the shop-Avindows and the dainties of the cafe's, 
 we, too, allowed ounselves to be drawn hither, and wandered, as in 
 dream-land, through the endless arcades of the Palais Royal. This 
 enthralling square bears no trace of its historical celebrity, but appears 
 to be thoroughly modern from every point of view; for the lower floor 
 is occupied by stores, and above there are public halls and a theatre. 
 
 Marseilles, Friday, May 18th. — We have had two lovely railway 
 rides yesterday and day before — from Paris to Lyons,and from Lyons here 
 — the vineyards, the statues and crosses on the hills, the cities, the 
 mountains of the Ardeche on one side, the far-away, etherially out- 
 lined Alps on the other, the old Roman ruins, the lovely rivers spanned 
 by the most picturesque bridges, and, finally, the sapphire Mediterra- 
 nean — there is no way of making it sound half so lovely as it was. 
 At Montbard we saw the ruined castle of the Dukes of Burgundy, and 
 the statue of Huffon. At Dijon, the castle built by Louis XIV. can be 
 seen from the cars, and there are beautiful specimens of Gothic archi- 
 tecture here. We reached Lyons at 6 P. m., and stopped at the Hotel 
 d'Angleterre, opposite a very pretty open square, where many persons 
 ■were enjoying the balmy air and bright sky of la belle France. 
 Afcer dinner, nice open carriages drove up and we were soon rolling 
 around the brilliantly illuminated city. The situation of Lyons is 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 23 
 
 perfect; the heights of Fourvieres are greeii and thickly wooded, while 
 the Rhone and the Saone seem to interHsand surround the city on all 
 sides. The bridges and the quays are, of course, peculiarly beautiful 
 by night, when the waters throw back the myriad lights that line their 
 banks. We stopped at the Cathedral and went in. It was about 8 p. 
 M., and the hour for evening service. The whole body of the ancient 
 Gothic building was shrouded in a dim twilight, while an aged priest 
 officiated at the altar blazing with a hundred tapers. The quaint 
 carvings, dim religious light, wail of the choristers and devotion of 
 the humble worshippers made me feel that I was indeed in a foreign 
 land and subject to influences never felt before. Roman Catholicism, 
 on its native heath, presents a very different aspect to its exotic growth 
 among ourselves, and I felt more tolerant towards those Americans 
 who have been affected in this direction by European travel. We con- 
 tinued our drive through the best part of the city, were charmed with 
 the beautiful goods and fine work of every kind displayed in the shop- 
 windows, saw the Bourse, the Theatre and the grand squares, that of 
 Louis le Grand being one of the largest in Europe, and covering fifteen 
 acres. Next morning our journey became still more interesting, this 
 part of France being as rich in Roman ruins as Rome itself. For the 
 first time in our lives we realize the unbroken continuity of historical 
 events. I should love to have stopped at Avignon, Aries and r^isines, 
 they are well worth a pilgrimage. But from our window we could see 
 the triumphal arches, the citadels and the grand amphitheatres that 
 marked the steps of conquest. While nothing in the world would 
 have given me more pleasure than to stop at Avignon and visit the 
 grave in which the unselfish, generous, noble-minded John Stewart 
 Mill rests by the side of the wife he loved so devotedly, I felt, even in 
 the midst of this external and objective existence, that the homage 
 paid in spirit was a thousand times more real a thing than hun- 
 dreds of visits. Here we are in this city which flourished before Lon- 
 don and Paris were heard of, — the Massalia of the Greeks and the 
 contemporary of Tyre and Sidon. It now consists of an old and a new 
 city, which form a striking contrast to each other. We are stopping 
 at a new and handsome Hotel on the principal street — lined with the 
 finest cafes in Europe. Here one sees true Southern life ; women 
 Avithout bonnets or hats, beggars of every age and description, de- 
 formed and afflicted people, men who seem born to be incarnations of 
 indolence, and children living in filth and wretched neglect. They 
 all talk, laugh, quarrel, bargain, gesticulate and crack their whips 
 until the noise is deafening. Everyone seems to live out of doors, and 
 the crowd on the streets at night is so great that one has to wedge 
 through it. There are .two public squares facing each other with a 
 fountain in the midst, and on each side, perched up in the quaintest 
 
24 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 little booths, are women and girls selling flowers — the famous roses 
 of i he Corniche. Several members of our party went over to the Isle d' 
 If this morning to visit the Prison of the Man with the Iron Mask, but 
 we did not venture out under this fiery sun until this afternoon. 
 Then we rode to the Palais de Longchamps, built by Napoleon III., 
 and one of the most striking and unique structures in the world. The 
 colonades encircle beautiful wide foot-paths, and these in their turn a 
 terraced fountain, which is surmounted at the centre of the piazza 
 from which it starts by a group of Tritons, Neptune, &c. We did not 
 enter the Museum, but contented ourselves with this novel exterior. 
 AVe rode to the Docks, which were lined with Mediterranean steamers, 
 and though the sea looked as poetical and charming as it can ever 
 look, we were very glad that our programme did not include a sail 
 on its classic bosom. The drive along the Corniche road is lovely — 
 on one side are the villas, so shrouded in dense shrubbery as to be 
 scarcely visible from the road, and on the other the sea and the rocky 
 cliffs and islands. We also saw the Arc de Triomphe and the new 
 Cathedral. How perfectly incongruous this last seemed with our 
 modern civilization ! 
 
 Genoa, Tuesday, May 22nd. — During our ride from Marseilles to 
 Nice, we passed Cannes, where Napoleon landed when he escaped from 
 Elba, also Frejus, the ancient Forum Julii, where there are remains of 
 acqueducts, amphitheatres, baths, &c. Though only a short distance, 
 this journey occupied the entire day, but the road was so beautiful, 
 and our party so gay, that Ave found this no demand whatever upon 
 our fortitude, Nice is a city of luxurious and elegant country resi- 
 dences, and bears the impress of English patronage. I felt affected by 
 malaria immediately on arriving, and did not need the witness of the 
 Eucalyptus tree planted along the avenues. So I did not get out at 
 all here, and have no other recollections of the place than those gained 
 in riding to and from stations, and the agreeable sensations produced 
 by the lovely Hotel Paradis. My sisters enjoyed the privilege of at- 
 tending church in Nice on, Trinity Sunday, and were delighted that 
 they could cherish such an experience. On Monday we determined to 
 take Monaco in our way and not make a special excursion there. Just 
 outside of Nice our attention was arrested by a pyramid on the summit 
 of one of the most prominent hills, and we discovered that this was the 
 tomb of Gambetta. How appropriate and lovely! The ride to Mo- 
 naco was a very short one, and we were soon ascending the promontory, 
 where the infamous Casino is situated. Nature is so exquisite here — 
 the sea, the sky, the vegetation, the mountains and the valley — that 
 one wonders how art could have the hardihood to intrude. But the 
 grounds are really laid out magnificently, and tropical plants mingle 
 with rows and beds of flowers of all hues and forms, while pretty pa- 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 25 
 
 vilions, fountains and grottoes abound on all sides. The Palace of 
 Monte Carlo, in which the gambling goes on, is very gorgeous — fres- 
 coed and gilded, with marble floors, high ceilings and grand windows. 
 The gamblers sit in a great spacious hall around three rather long 
 narrow tables covered with green baize, and the silence of the tomb 
 reigns supreme. There was something wierd and uncanny about this 
 scene. The people were middle-aged, the majority, men ; all seemed 
 laboring under a lethargy and drowsiness that was very painful to be- 
 hold. Every manifestation of excitement, and even of interest, is sup- 
 pressed, and losing and winning are accepted with equal sang froid. 
 Occasionally we noticed a strange, glitter in the eyes of the players, and 
 an impatience that could not be subdued. This was especially visible in 
 a young and rather pretty woman. All the other women were fright- 
 fully ugly. But this one, Avith her auburn hair, fair complexion and 
 bright eyes, was attractive. She wore two plain gold rings on her left 
 hand, aud frequently whispered with a common looking man next to 
 her, who seemed to advise her how to play. Several of our party 
 thought they were husband and wife; but I did not; unanimity in 
 such a search for happiness would certainly be monstrous ; very likely 
 she had a nice, good husband waiting for her at home. It was with a 
 feeling of intense relief that we left this place — the very air seemed 
 poisonous. Knowledge of such perversity is certainly of the kind 
 " that cometh by pain. " At the station we had a charming view of 
 Bordighera, and while speeding along the Riviera enjoyed the many 
 reminders of Dr. Antonio and Lucy, which Ruffini's vivid description 
 cannot fail to bring before one. We did not reach Genoa until 10 P. 
 m. This Hotel, d' Italie et St. Croix de Malte, is one of the old pal- 
 aces, and the vaulted ceilings are so high, that one feels lost. Our 
 room is so large that when I am lying down and watching my sisters 
 move around at the other end, they look like children, and our trunks 
 look like dolls' trunks. We seem to be in a species of fairy land. 
 To-day has been a very eventful one. We" feel compensated in the way 
 of novelty for having crossed the ocean ; for this ancient city is totally 
 unlike anything that can be seen in our country. Many of the houses 
 are eleven stories high, and the streets are so narrow that a man can 
 touch the opposite sides with outstretched arms. Our Palace opens on 
 what we should call an alley at home. But these dark, narrow streets 
 form a splendid foil for the Piazzas, or open squares, into which they 
 suddenly open every now and then. In lieu of a bonnet or hat the 
 women wear picturesque black veils or white tulle, while the poorer go 
 out in the boiling sun without any protection. We walked to the 
 church of the Annunziata, near at hand. All the churches we have 
 hitherto seen seem pale and tame before this gorgeous outburst of Ital- 
 ian art. The entire ceiling is frescoed and gilded so brilliantly, that it 
 
20 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN" LANDS. 
 
 is impossible to stop and take in the beauties of any one group; the 
 eye will rove from picture to picture, so that the final impression is a 
 very hazy one. Over the entrance is Procacini's " Cena. " It is very 
 dark and most unfortunately placed, but after repeated efforts we man- 
 aged to enjoy the striking figures, and felt that there was new light 
 thrown upon the most moving of all narratives. The nave and aisles 
 of this church are supported by columns of white marble inlaid with 
 red ; so that the ensemble is almost theatrical. We then rode to the 
 Palazzo Du razzo. The drawing-rooms and picture galleries are at the 
 very top of the spacious edifice, and are reached by wide stair-ways of 
 white marble. There is a splendid collection of the great masters' 
 here: portraits by Vandyck of the Genoese nobility; the apostles and 
 saints by Rubens, Oarvacci, Guido and Guercino; several paintings of 
 Cleopatra — a woman apparently distinguished only for her size, for 
 none of the faces were beautiful or remarkable. The general simplic- 
 ity of these princely apartments is very noticable. The walls are cov- 
 ered with red and gold or blue and gold damask, the mirrors are small, 
 there are a few statuettes in marble and bronze, and the pictures ab- 
 sorb the attention completely. We also visited the Eoyal Palace and 
 the Palazzo Balbi in succession. The latter has a beautiful court in 
 white marble, and, in addition to many good pictures, several inlaid 
 cabinets, tablets, &c. The furniture is quite simple and unpretending. 
 In one of these (but just which one I cannot now remember) there is a 
 St. Sebastian, by Guido Keni, — one of the most emotional of all the 
 Italian artists. The expression of the youthful saint is that " of one 
 who dies of love and joy alone. " There is a frieze of the exploits of 
 Hercules, and one room which contains large pictures of scenes in the 
 life of Achilles: his mother holds him by the heel as she bathes him 
 in the Styx ; he parts with Briseis ; he towers above all others in the 
 stormiest of the conflicts ; and he refuses to be comforted for the death 
 of Patroclus ; all are splendid. The church of Santa Maria di Oarig- 
 nano presents a striking contrast to the Annunziata. There is an air 
 of simplicity about it, which is due to the preponderance of white mar- 
 ble. The altars are numerous, and over each one is a fine painting 
 
 of an obscure subject, Ihere are four fine statues here, two by Puget 
 ami two by David, but we did not have time to enjoy them, for the ob- 
 ject of a visit here is to obtain a view of the superb city from the cu- 
 pola. We all made the ascent of three hundred steps, and from a tiny 
 gallery looked down on the sea, the city and the mountains. The 
 houses are crowded together, so that no regularity in the construction 
 of the city seems to have, been dreamed of. Mr. Daziano told us that 
 the women who live in the highest stories of these houses only come 
 down once a year. The roofs are flat, and are used as laundries and 
 conservatories — almost every one being ornamented with clothes hung 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 27 
 
 Out to dry, and pots of flowers and plants. But the view is beautiful ; 
 for the luminous Italian atmosphere wraps all in its entrancing halo, 
 and the sk) r is cloudless. The church of San Lorenzo — the Duomo of 
 Genoa — is extremely ancient and interesting. The pillars are hung 
 with crimson damask, and contrast well with the black and white 
 marble which covers the walls. There are very old statues at the al- 
 tars and in niches, but I have not been able to discover the artists. I 
 thought some of them very fine. But in one of the three chief altars 
 we were shown two of the most exquisite pictures my eyes ever rested 
 on. They are generally covered up, but the curtains were withdrawn 
 for our benefit. We were told that Napoleon had carried them both 
 to Paris. I could not occupy myself with the subjects. The faces, 
 the forms, above all the colors themselves, were of the dreamiest soft- 
 ness; it did not seem as impossible that a human brain had conceived 
 them as that a human hand had painted them. The ashes of St. John 
 the Baptist are preserved in a chapel here and no woman is permitted 
 to enter it. After this we drove to the Palazzo Andrea Doria — a real 
 treat, for his is one of the few names on this page of history that will 
 glow forever with a steady light. The fresco of Jupiter vanquishing 
 the Titans is a magnificent work of art here, and there are several in- 
 teresting portraits of the Doria family. We stood in the small room 
 in which the " father of his country " died, and felt how nobly one 
 name can redeem the history of a Eepublic. In the chapel of the Al- 
 bergo de Poveri we saw a medallion of Christ and the Virgin, entitled 
 " Pieta, " by Michael Angelo. It was lovely, but seemed to lack force 
 and vitality. From the terrace in front of this Institution there is a 
 splendid view of the city and its surroundings. Of course we were all 
 very much interested in the monument to Columbus. We all pro- 
 nounced it much less imposing than it ought to be. At the corners of 
 the square base there are allegorical figures representing Religion, 
 Geography, Force and Wisdom, and the circular pedastal, adorned 
 with prows of ships, is surmounted by Columbus and America as a 
 woman kneeling before him. During our peregrinations to-day Ave no- 
 ticed the exterior of a window adorned with flags, Avreaths, ribbons, 
 &c, and upon inquiring found that it was the room in which Garibaldi 
 died. 
 
 Wednesday, May 23rd. — This morning we drove to the Campo 
 Santo — the famous cemetery of Genoa. All the wealthy people are 
 buried in a Colonaded Portico, which extends for some distance on 
 each side of a circular chapel. The monuments are very tine, and 
 there is an air of lovely repose in this pure white marble dwelling. 
 But Avhile the Avorks are handsome, they are in fearful taste. Many of 
 them consist of portrait statues of the deceased and death- bed scenes. 
 The ground forming a court in the midst of this colonade is used for 
 
28 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN" LANDS. 
 
 the burial of the poor, who are allowed to rest here for five years, when 
 the bodies are disinterred and thrown into a common grave. We 
 learned that no mourners, either rich or poor, ever attend an interment, 
 this being the exclusive office of the employe, and all burials take place 
 during the night. After a beautiful drive through the Park, which is 
 called the Acquasola, we visited the Palazzo Brignole Sale. Among 
 the many fine paintings are a beautiful Madonna by Andrea del Sarto; 
 the Pharisees questioning our Lord about the tribute-money; a Holy 
 Family, in which St. John offers a butterfly to the infant Saviour; a 
 fine portrait of the Marchioness Brignole with her little daughter by 
 her side — both dressed so uncomfortably that one cannot but pity 
 them — and several other handsome portraits of the Brignole family. 
 We also rushed for a few moments in the church of San Siro, where 
 the Doges were crowned; the only impression that I received was that 
 of its weird and mouldy antiquity. 
 
 Pisa. — Here at home while copying my journal for my friends, I 
 shall have to write my recollections of Pisa, as it quite dropped out of 
 my record in the hurry and excitement of those halcyon days. On the 
 morning of the day we left Genoa we all seized the opportunity to at- 
 tend the celebration of Corpus Christi in the Duomo. It was a strange 
 experience. The church was crowded with the peasants and bourgeois 
 dressed in their best. The choir was filled with priests, choristers, a 
 mitred bishop, &c, all chanting in most harmonious strains. While 
 some of the people were kneeling, weeping and praying, others were 
 smiling, looking around and talking. A man carried around a money- 
 bag attached to a long pole, and this he shook in everyone's face at in- 
 tervals of a few moments. Two services were going on at the same 
 time, and some of the chairs were turned in one direction, and some in 
 another. We were glad that something moved us to leave at an early 
 hour, for later in the day a disturbance arose which called out the 
 military and produced no slight excitement. On our way to Pisa we 
 passed Spezzia, and talked of Shelley and his romantic and mournful 
 death here. In exchange for the Maritime Alps Ave now had the mag- 
 nificent mountains of Carrara and Massa marble, the smooth sides of 
 the crevices of which were a much more novel sight. From the cars 
 one catches the first glimpse of the famous group of buildings which 
 the guide books say is the finest in the world. It is a remarkable and 
 beautiful sight. The Leaning Tower at first did not seem as high or 
 as narrow as I had imagined it, but the creamy richness of the marble 
 and the sculpturing are so lovely, that one can feel no disappointment 
 in the whole. The Baptistery and Duomo look much older and 
 quainter than pictures represent them. It is so quiet here after Genoa, 
 and built and laid out so differently — the streets being wide, the 
 houses (though all white or yellow) more modern looking, and the 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 29 
 
 surrounding country so much more level and open, that one cannot but 
 remark upon it. I did not feel at all in the humor of ascending the 
 Tower, so while all the others were performing this exploit, I was rev- 
 eling in the opportunity to wander all through the vast Cathedral 
 alone. The walls in every direction are covered with the most mag- 
 nificent oil paintings. The St. Agnes of Andrea del Sarto hangs from 
 one of the pillars of the nave ; but it does not need a conspicuous posi- 
 tion, for its soft and tender beauty would attract attention anywhere. 
 There is a beautiful Madonna delle Grazie by the same artist; a Virgin 
 in Glory by Cristoforo Allori and Passignano's Triumph of the Mar- 
 tyrs. There is a certain harmony about all the subjects that is very 
 alluring at the time, but adds greatly to the difficulty of recalling them 
 afterwards. The roof is flat, divided into compartments and richly 
 gilded. In the centre hangs the very lamp from which Galileo ob- 
 tained his idea of the pendulum. After all the others came in, the 
 sacristan conducted us into the chancel of the main altar and the 
 choir. I should never have dreamed, that in order to produce the ef- 
 fect of mystery in music the choirs in these churches are placed behind 
 the altar, and are invisible to the congregation. Certainly, compared 
 with the Italians, all who live beyond the Alps are still barbarians! 
 Here we were shown some very ancient paintings, which are so highly 
 prized, that they are kept covered and only displayed for a fee. The 
 most precious of all was Abraham and Isaac, in which the artist evi- 
 dently had a desperate struggle in the endeavor to express his idea. 
 The Baptistery is simply a rotunda containing the immense font from 
 which the people in numbers are baptized on special Feast days, and 
 on the left a marvelous pulpit, the work of Nicolas of Pisa in 1260. It 
 is covered with sculpturing of the greatest delicacy and grace. The 
 Campo Santo is just behind these buildings. It is not anything like as 
 handsome as that of Genoa; but there are, nevertheless, several fine 
 monuments, and here hangs the heavy iron chain of the ancient harbor 
 of Pisa, which was captured by the Genoese in 1362, and restored only 
 in 1848. On the walls of the cloister-like arcades are the frescoes 
 which inaugurated the dawn of modern painting, by Giotto and the 
 Orcagna brothers. They are grotesque; but one begins to understand 
 what a herculean task it must have been to commence the transcrip- 
 tion of the Bible stories in forms and colors. Among fragments of an- 
 tiques our attention was called to the pillars which once adorned the 
 house of Pontius Pilate. They are small, well formed and certainly 
 have an air of great antiquity. During our drive we were shown the 
 Lanfranchi Palace, rendered famous by the long residence of Byron ; 
 the house in which Galileo was born, and the Torre del Fame, where 
 Ugolino Gherardesca and his children were starved to death in 1288. 
 The bridges crossing the Arno — an unpretending little stream per- 
 
SO MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 fectly guiltless of any intrinsic charms — the old aristocratic palaces lin- 
 ing the banks of the river ; and the ancient churches make Pisa a pictur- 
 esque and memorable city. While here one feels entirely cut off from 
 the great bustling, busy, vociferous world of the nineteenth century. 
 Existence here is dream-like and unreal. During our journey from 
 Pisa to Rome the train stopped for refreshments, and everybody rushed 
 across several tracks into the waiting-room of a regular Italian tratto- 
 ria, already well filled with passengers from the opposing train from 
 Rome. The confusion presented a scene long to be remembered. The 
 meal consisted of roast-beef, fowl, a little bottle (like a cologne bottle) 
 of sour red wine for each person, an enormous quantity of yellow rice 
 and a generous supply of citron. The novelty was too much of a good 
 thing for many of us, and when the signal came to return to our train, 
 our conductor seized a whole fowl, several bottles of wine, bread and 
 citron for those who had not been able to enjoy the delectable viands 
 in the confusion. We found that the deduction of the yellow rice 
 made the meal much more palatable, and thus refreshed, proceeded on 
 our way Rome-ward. 
 
 Rome, Tuesday, May 29th. — AVe have been here since Friday night, 
 and have accomplished wonders. On Saturday morning we started 
 out and went at once to the Capitol, entering the Museum on the left. 
 The exterior is much defaced, having once been white, and iioav marked 
 with black patches. Its situation on the hill named for it is most 
 beautiful, and the ascent — a graded stone walk — very fine. Near the 
 summit is a large cage in which wolves are restlessly pacing to and fro. 
 Thestatnesin the piazzaare much mutilated, with the exception of the 
 gilded equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelins, which is truly magnifi- 
 cent. The heart is deeply stirred on entering the Capitol, for, as a 
 museum, it contains treasures over which the world has raved, and 
 there are portions of the stone foundation which belong to the year 
 367 of Rome's history. In the Gallery of Sculptures, before ascending, 
 there is a beautiful Diana, a colossal Mars, a Juno, and these wild, 
 free, untrammeled beings stand opposite to Pudicitia, Patientia and 
 lovely personifications of virtues. Above, one enters at once upon the 
 Dying Gladiator — one of the most moving of all statues, thoroughly 
 human and calling forth the profounclest sympathies. The glaze on 
 the marble detracts somewhat from its beauty. Near by is the Faun 
 of Praxiteles, better known as Hawthorne's Marble Faun, so mightily 
 do the charms of literature prevail over all others. No one can refrain 
 from saying, " How lovely ! " But there is a profound silence when 
 the ravishing beauty of the Venus bursts on the sight. The expression 
 is one of ineffable loveliness, and every curve of the exquisite form is 
 faultless. There are numerous busts here; of Augustus, Trajan, Es- 
 chylus, Plato, Euijipides, Aristophanes, Aurelins, Nero, &c, &c. 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 31 
 
 There are also Greek sarcophagi of great beauty, the reliefs being won- 
 derfully preserved : one for a child in which the story of birth and 
 death is told in mythological symbols is most interesting. There are 
 Egyptian vases, columns, heads, &c, 3,000 years old. The Doves of 
 Pliny in mosaics are very lovely. After this hasty glance we drove to 
 the Coliseum, which Byron declares to be coeval with Rome's existence. 
 It does indeed seem so, but in my opinion the glorious old ruin is very 
 much marred by the new brick supports and marble slabs. These last 
 contain the name of the Pope who made the restoration, as if any one 
 cared about this ! The effect of the exterior is greatly lessened by this 
 conglomeration. Within, one gazes upward, bewildered by the tiers of 
 seats, rising higher and higher, and the width of the vast circle seems 
 even more endless. We stood in the arena, but the stillness, the se- 
 renity of nature, for it was the brightest of May days, and the placidity 
 of everything made it very, very hard to recall the awful inhumanity 
 and vicious luxury that once reigned here. We saw where the gladia- 
 tors bathed, the underground chambers from which they came into the 
 Arena, the stair by which the Vestal Virgins wended their 'way from 
 their Temple (wihin sight) to the spectacle, the seats occupied by the 
 senators, tribunes, jurors, &c, and — exceeding all else in interest — 
 the dark holes in which the Christians were imprisoned. The Baths 
 of Caracal la was our next stopping-place. The mighty walls, the eter- 
 nal arches, the divisions of the many, many apartments — these alone 
 remain. The mosaic pavement, about a yard of white marble frieze, 
 two pedestals with headless statues, fragments of columns and statues 
 are all that is left to tell the tale of unparalleled splendor and magnifi- 
 cence. The silence here is positively oppressive, and one cannot but 
 leave with a feeling of relief. Here, as in the Coliseum, the birds have 
 their nests in the broken walls, and the wild flowers bloom with a 
 vigor and vitality that is strangely incongruous with their abode. 
 During our drive we passed under the Arches of Titus and Constan- 
 tine (brown, yellow and black with the impress of time), along the Via 
 Sacra (where Horace met the bore), had a view of the Arch of Septi- 
 mius Sever us, and saw the Forum — by far the most poetic and ro- 
 mantic of the ruins. The remains of the neighboring Temples are 
 very graceful, and the single shafts give the mournful aspect that is 
 called for in such scenes. A good long ride brought us back to the 
 Hotel, and my sisters and 1 then started out alone in search of a nice 
 Cafe. A pleasant walk brought us to the " Roma, " and we lunched de- 
 lightfully. These quick witted Italians speak French with ease, and 
 their musical voices never sound sweeter than when so employed. In 
 the afternoon our party assembled again and went first to the church 
 of Santa Maria Maggiore. If the exterior of ancient Rome is dark, 
 ugly and gloomy, the interior of the churches maizes up for it. I was 
 
32 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 positively startled by the dazzling brilliancy of this one, Its architec- 
 ture, adorned with mosaics, is supported by forty-two Ionic columns, 
 thirty-three in marble and four in granite. The high altar is a tomb 
 in porphry, and the canopy is supported by porphry pillars. The Sis- 
 tine chapel, by Fontana, contains an altar-piece of St. Jerome, in 
 mosaics, by Ribera, the baldachino being of gilded bronze. A grand 
 colossal statue of Sixtus V. is the most prominent feature. There is 
 not an inch of this chapel which is not beautiful and gorgeous. Verd- 
 antique, and marbles in every shade and color, contrasting exquisitely, 
 make it a scene of exquisite beauty. Opposite is the Borghese chapel 
 — still richer in ornamentation — of which the altar pillars are of 
 fluted jasper. The church of San Giovanni, in Laterano, is just as 
 dazzling. The walls and columns are draped in crimson damask, and 
 from this back-ground, in niches, stand out gigantic figures of the 
 twelve apostles. In the basement we were shown the celebrated Dead 
 Christ in the arms of the Virgin, over which my mother has always 
 been so enthusiastic, and which I believe is the work of Bernini. The 
 expression* of the lifeless form tests the powers of the plastic art to 
 their utmost, and the result is indeed wonderful. The decorations in 
 this church are by Giacomo della Porta. Santa Croce, in Gerusalemme, 
 is old and faded. We went in the basement and saw the chapel in 
 which is kept a piece of the true cross brought by St. Helena her- 
 self from Jerusalem. The altar picture of the Saint is very handsome. 
 AVhile here we saw a state carriage drive up and a Cardinal alight, en- 
 ter and perform his evening devotions with a fervor and humility that 
 were beautiful. We next stood at the foot of the Seal a Santa, and to 
 our surprise actually saw the people ascending on their knees and kiss- 
 ing the steps. It was a strange mixture of superstition and devo- 
 tion, and gave rise to very painful emotions. At the sides of the 
 squares are two exquisite groups by Giacometti ; Judas betraying 
 Christ with a kiss, and Pilate arraigning Christ. In both the expres- 
 sion of the Saviour is truly divine. I cannot imagine how anyone can 
 travel through Europe and not feel the quickening of a devotional 
 spirit. But One Form dominates and predominates in art. One Voice 
 alone says, "And I, if I be lifted up, Avill draw all men unto Me. ; ' 
 During our ride back Ave saw the Baths of D&eletian and the Obelisks 
 of the Piazza del Popolo and San Giovanni. These beautiful ancient 
 monuments, so truly spiritual in form and design, abound in Rome. 
 It is with awe, indeed, that one gazes upon that of San Giovanni — the 
 oldest monument in the world, contemporaneous with the War of Troy, 
 and once the adornment of the square of the Temple of Heliopolis. 
 But I feel, all the time during my stay here, that it is not the seeing this, 
 that, or the other particular ruin, not the standing before a certain 
 work, not the identification of historic landmarks that gives to Rome 
 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 33 
 
 its peculiar charm. No : it is enough to be in Eome. She who sits 
 upon her Seven Hills is no longer crowned. It is a solemn thing to 
 walk the streets of the once vain -glorious mistress of the world. 
 Thoughts of Pagan, Republican, Imperial, Christian, Papal, Mediaeval 
 and Modern Rome rush like an avalanche on the mind, until it reels 
 and staggers beneath the weight. I feel that I never have thought 
 before ; — almost as if no one had thought. For I do not believe that 
 the mighty problems of Rome's history have begun to be solved. 
 Neither Clibbon nor Merivale with their ponderous learning; not Byron 
 or Hawthorne, sensitively thrilling to the poetry of beauty; not Mme. 
 de Stael herself who has scaled the empyrean of eloquence in her 
 treatment of this theme has satisfied the longing for its true interpre- 
 tation ; and my heart burns within me when I think of those who are 
 yet to stand before this great portal and unveil the awful secret. Oh, 
 when will the world learn tbat the mere knowledge of facts is nothing! 
 A visit to the Rome of the nineteenth century is a matter of purely 
 subjective interest. The objective transitions are so abrupt, so unex- 
 pected and startling, that no one can truthfully enjoy them. As soon 
 as we passed the Baths of Diocletian — a portion of which was con- 
 verted into a church by Michael Angelo, and is surmounted by a cross 
 — we entered the gay and festive promenade of the Pincian Hill, now 
 laid out regularly and adorned with an equestrian statue of Victor 
 Emmanuel, &c. Here we saw the modern beau monde exercising in 
 stylish coupes, and had to swallow the incongruity as best we could. 
 On Sunday we attended the fine, new American church and heard a 
 good sermon on the emotions and their spiritual significance. Monday 
 morning bright and early we started off for St. Peter's. The Piazza is 
 all that it is described to be. I am not skilled enough in architectural 
 science to enjoy proportion and symmetry at the expense of light and 
 shade, and the coloring of the church and colonade is, in my opinion, 
 fatal to an admiration of the exterior. But as we ascended the steps, I 
 felt the full force of the privilege and said, " This is a moment of su- 
 preme happiness to me ; " and in a few moments we entered the won- 
 derful sanctuary. It is glorious. To me it was more than anyone has 
 represented it to be. Genius has laid down its mightiest trophies here. 
 Luxury, Wealth, Pomp and Vanity struggle for the ascendency in a 
 Temple consecrated to the Man of Sorrows. And yet in spite of the glar- 
 ing inconsistency, in spite of this expression of ideas in direct opposi- 
 tion (as we Protestants must believe) to the genius of Christ's religion, 
 one feels that there is a redeeming reality in this stupendous struc- 
 ture. Catholicism ha&a mission, and art struggling for life, not ex- 
 istence (it had known this in Greece and Pagan Rome), could only find 
 it in the Mediaeval church. And here comes in that interpretation of 
 the relation between sacred and secular ideas which Milman, Moland, 
 
34 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 Kankeand others have supported so ably, and which cannot he ignored 
 in a right comprehension of events. The cherubs holding the basins 
 of Holy Water are almost twice as large as a man. The inlaid marble 
 columns, profusely decorated with medallions, and joining in arches 
 above which are the most graceful leaning figures, are wonderfully 
 beautiful. The sense of freedom, elevation and exultation caused by 
 these figures is as novel as it is entrancing. We made the tour of the 
 ground floor, stopping before each magnificent monument of the nu- 
 merous Popes. By far the grandest is the tomb of Clement XIII., by 
 Canova. It represents the Pope praying, while on one side stands the 
 figure of Death with torch reversed, and on the other the mostexquisite 
 figure of Religion leans on the cross, meekness, heroism and rapture 
 beaming from the lovely countenance. At the angles are enormous 
 lions, one sleeping, and both grandly impressive and natural. The 
 altar of St. Leo is next in interest. It is an immense bas-relief repre- 
 senting the Pope threatening Attila with vengeance if he approaches 
 Uome. The monument of Pius VIII., representing him kneeling, with 
 Christ behind giving His benediction and Sts. Peter and Paul on 
 each side, is very fine. There was also one which was very flashy, of 
 which I cannot remember the name of the Pope, but the figure was 
 either draped with or kneeling on a cloth of red and white marble, 
 whose enormous folds seemed as pliant as the softest crepe-de-chene. 
 The monuments to Christina of Sweden and the last of the Stuarts in- 
 terested me deeply. That of Maria Sobieski, wife of James III., has 
 her portrait in oils above the tomb. The genii guarding the mauso- 
 leum of the three Pretenders are very beautiful and melancholy. In 
 the first side chapel is Michasl Angelo's Pieta — the Dead Christ lying- 
 in the arms of the pitiful and tender Virgin — a truly beautiful and 
 appealing creation. The statue of Jupiter, long since called that of 
 Peter, is a very fierce and astonishing figure in black marble; we saw 
 many persons kissing the well worn toe. The High Altar is in bronze 
 uilt with twisted columns, and around a railing leading to a still 
 lower altar there were one hundred and forty-two lamps burning, and 
 producing a fineeffect. Just at the footof the steps leading down to this 
 chapel is a kneeling figure in white marble of Pius VI., by Canova. 
 Hut what would St. Peter's be without the gorgeous mosaics of its 
 Seven Altars! These are copies of the master-pieces in painting. 
 The most beautiful of all, in my estimation, is that of Christ showing 
 t! ic sacred wounds to the doubting Thomas, the transcendent beauty 
 of the compassionate Saviour leaving nothing to be desired. Domeni- 
 chino's Communion of St. Jerome is magnificent in mosaics. Raphael's 
 Transfiguration is too familiar, through prints and copies of all de- 
 scriptions, to elicit the praise it deserves. Roncalli's Annanias and 
 Sapphira is vivid and powerful. From St. Peter's we passed to the. 
 
my journal In Foreign lands. 35 
 
 Vatican and entered the Sistine chapel. What pen can describe the 
 Last Judgment? It is a work of such magnitude, grandeur and force, 
 that the ordinary mind is completely overpowered by it. One misses 
 the brilliant coloring of the Renaissance painters, and the first impulse 
 is to turn away from such a multiplicity of details. But the attractive 
 power of genius is greater than that of the load-stone, and the desire 
 to gaze and gaze on forever takes possession of the soul. The ceiling 
 of this chapel is also the work of Michael Angelo, and represents the 
 Old Testament History. This work is in a better state of preservation 
 and freshness, and is intensely atttractive, but as there are no mirrors 
 here it almost breaks one's neck to look at it. How bright and beau- 
 tiful are Adam and Eve at creation, how pathetic the exile from Para- 
 dise, how fearful the scene of the Brazen Serpent! One seems for the 
 first time fully to understand these truths. The Loggia of Kaphas] 
 can be interesting only to the student ; the figures are too worn and 
 faded to arrest the attention of the visitor. His Tapestries are much 
 finer — that of the School of Athens being so perfect, that one would 
 not be surprised to see the figures walk across the broad stone steps, 
 nor to hear the voices break out and give utterance to the glowing 
 thoughts that irradiate their faces. The first gallery we entered was 
 one of modern paintings : two were by Fracasini, who, our guide told 
 us, was much beloved by Pius IX., and often walked arm in arm with 
 him ; he died at the age of twenty-seven, and his countrymen believe 
 that, had he lived, he would have been another Raphael. One of the 
 above pictures represented the execution of several monks, and was 
 remarkable both in design and finish. The other paintings were mis- 
 erable. The next room was devoted exclusively to the representation 
 of the Promulgation of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception by 
 Pius IX. ; these frescoes, copied from the masters, were good and in- 
 teresting. The real treasures of this collection are, of course, the origi- 
 nals of the mosaics in St. Peter's. Besides these there are Raphael's 
 Madonna del Foligno, in which happy, placid, joyous energy betrays a 
 temperament as unique as the genius of the artist; Caravaggio's En- 
 tombment, in which the grief and tenderness of the faithful women are 
 beautifully set forth ; Garo/olo's Holy Family, Murillo's St. Catherine 
 — a dark, fascinating Spanish beauty — Holy Family and Return of 
 the Prodigal. We next passed through what ought to be called the 
 Hall of the Vases, for here are collected the most magnificent alabas- 
 ter, malachite, lapis -lazuli and marble vases, urns and basins. From 
 one of the fonts, we were told, the Prince Imperial was baptized. In 
 a large case we saw treasured manuscripts, and among others, letters 
 written by Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII., Petrarch and Tasso. At last 
 the Museum of the Vatican was thrown open. We saw the grand 
 Torso that Michael Angelo loved so dearlv ; the Meleager, Antinous, 
 
36 MY JOUKNAL IN FOEEIGN LANDS. 
 
 Perseus with the head of Medusa — a splendid work, the soul-subduing 
 Laocoon, Ariadne abandoned by Theseus — one of my favorite works, 
 because she looks so strong in her suffering ; the exquisite Athlete, and 
 above all, the Apollo Belvedere — more glorious than the wildest fancy 
 can picture. No wonder the enthusiastic poet could say : 
 
 " More beauteous than the god' his marble form I see, 
 Though hushed the lyre, the lips are breathing melody. " 
 
 The bust of Jupiter from Otricoli, the only fine copy in the world of 
 the master-piece of Phidias, is here, and makes one rejoice that the 
 true Father of gods and men did not leave Himself without a Avitness 
 among that gifted people who did not hesitate to declare themselves 
 " His offspring. " " I have said ye are gods, " are the words of our 
 own Bible. There are works of Canova here, but it is scarcely worth 
 while to look at them beside the Greek Avorks, It Avould take me hours 
 just to enumerate all that Ave saAV here. After a long ride we stopped 
 at a road-side Trattoria, and under a leafless arbor ate a lunch of hard, 
 dry bread, Bologna sausage, and Italian Avhite Avine, entertained by an 
 orchestrion. Thus sustained we entered St Paul's, the Avork of thirty- 
 eight years not yet having reached completion. It bids fair to become 
 a gorgeous rival of St. Peter's. The High Altar is far more beautiful, 
 consisting of columns and canopy of the most exquisite alabaster over 
 an altar of malachite. The frieze consist's of mosaic portraits of the 
 Popes in endless array. The Avhole church is adorned with eighty Co- 
 rinthian columns — each of a single block of granite Avhich can scarcely 
 be spanned by three men with outstretched arms. The stained glass 
 of the Avindows is unusually clear and beautiful, each one containing 
 but a single figure. In one of the chapels there is an exquisite paint- 
 ing of the Stoning of Stephen. On our Avay to the Catacombs Ave saw 
 the Fortress-tomb of Cecilia Metalla, the Pyramid of Cestius, the empty 
 field in which once Avas the Tomb of the Scipios, and rode along the 
 Via Appia. I did not care to go down in the Catatombs, and Avas dis- 
 agreeably interrupted in a nice little note-taking by the hasty return 
 of the party, Avho seemed to he disgusted Avith themselves forgoing. 
 During our ride in the morning Ave saAV the grand old Castle of St. 
 Angelo — tomb, fortress and refuge for those who Avere born free; 
 stopped on the banks of the Tiber, at the point where the deed of 
 Horatius Codes made his name immortal ; and saAV an old Temple of 
 Vesta. On our way home we saw the Baths of Diocletian again, the 
 columns of Antoninus, Trajan's Forum, and column and the wondrous 
 Fountains of Trevi and Aqua Felice. Monks and priests dressed in all the 
 colors of the rainboAv are getting to be such an ordinary sight, that Ave 
 take no notice of them at all. We have seen tAvo or three very singular 
 funerals, when the pall-bearers, masked and clothed entirely in Avhite, 
 carry the casket through the streets by means of long poles resting on 
 
My journal in foreign lands. 37 
 
 their shoulders. Every now and then we see beautiful girls dressed in 
 the old costume going to sit as models for artists. 
 
 Tuesday, May 29th. — We have spent to-day in visiting the Palaces 
 of Rome. First the Palazzo Doria. There are numerous Sale. In the 
 first I noticed several fine landscapes by Salvator Rosa and Poussin ; 
 Herodias with the head of John the Baptist ; fine sarcophagi with 
 grand alti-relievi ; John the Baptist and St. Agnes by Guercino — one 
 of my favorite painters ; a striking centaur. In the next room Berni- 
 ni's group — Jacob wrestling with the angel interested us deeply. 
 Winckelmann had given me such an unfavorable impression of Bernini, 
 that I find myself frequently surprised by an admiration for his works, 
 which is purely involuntary and uncontrolahle. Domenichino's St. 
 Paul's Conversion was very good. There were busts here of English 
 women who had married Italian princes; the faces were not pretty or 
 remarkable; Belisarius by Salvator Rosa; St. Sebastian and Madonna 
 and Child by L. Carracci ; two heads by Correggio; a Cardinal by Ve- 
 lasquez; a very sweet Endymion by Guercino; Portrait of Lucrezia 
 Borgia by Paolo Veronese (we could scarcely believe she was so ugly) ; 
 Angel Gabriel with pensive, feminine face and hands crossed by Ro- 
 manelli ; Descent from the Cross by Anibali Carracci; Portrait of 
 Machiavelli by Bronzino ; the Mercury of Horatian renown, "che ruba 
 i buoi ad Apollo, " by Claude Lorraine; quaint head of a woman by 
 Holbein; the wicked Giovanna I. of Naples — a striking portrait by 
 Leonarda da Vinci ; Abraham sacrificing Isaac by Titian — the boy of 
 thirteen, very beautiful, stretching out his arms to bis father implor- 
 ingly, but the rescuing Angel not good ; Visitation of St. Elizabeth by 
 Garofolo — rich in coloring ; Portrait of Marco Paulo by Titian ; Holy 
 Family by Sassoferrato, and a Magdalen by Carracci were all remarka- 
 bly interesting. We then entered the Palazzo Colonna, and noticed 
 rather pretty Gobelin Tapestry, a Cleopatra by Guido {all the Cleopa- 
 tras are blondes, but none are beautiful), and then passed through the 
 Throne Room, hung in crimson and gold damask, the only picture of 
 which is a lovely and most pleasing portrait of Leo XIII. In another 
 room there is beautiful ceiling painting by Luti and Bartoni ; a very 
 fine mosaic cabinet, and an ivory bas-relief cabinet. The pictures were 
 all dark, confused and dim. There was one elegant hall hung with 
 twenty crystal chandeliers, arched ceiling frescoed splendidly, marble 
 floor and pillars. On the steps leading to a smaller room is the cannon 
 ball launched in '59, and the broken place in the marble. Here I saw 
 the first one of Vasari's pictures — a beautiful woman — a Venus or 
 Bacchante with rich coloring. While here we met the little Princess 
 Colonna — a darling little blonde, going out with her nurse to walk. 
 Leaving the Palaces for a while, we entered the Pantheon — Santa 
 Maria della Rotunda, the only ancient Temple remaining in Rome. 
 
38 M1T JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 The exterior is undergoing repairs, but is still grand in its dying glory. 
 The interior — lighted only by the great circular opening above, 
 through which the sun streamed in a flood of light, is interesting only 
 from a historic point of view; the altars have little artistic merit. 
 The tomb of Raphael is unpretending and almost unnoticeable. That 
 of Victor Emmanuel is loaded with the extremely queer and ugly 
 wreaths, which the Italians consider an indispensable monumental dec- 
 oration. In Santa Maria sopra Minerva, a Gothic church, we saw 
 Michael Angelo's famous statue of Christ. I did not like it; it seemed 
 to me too low in stature, and in expression of form and face more hu- 
 man than divine. I do not hesitate to pronounce it far inferior to the 
 Christ of Giacometti, though, perhaps, a more original conception. 
 We went into the church of II Gesu, in order to see the tomb of Loyola, 
 but as service was being held we were denied the privilege. The 
 church was more gorgeously illuminated than any I ever saw, and the 
 High Altar blazed with lights rising in arches one above the other to 
 the ceiling. There are beautiful paintings here. We then rode to the 
 Capitol again, and entered the Palazzo del Conservatory having time 
 to notice in the Piazzo the Castor and Pollux, which once adorned the 
 Theatre of Pompey. Within, there is a fine collection of busts of cele- 
 brated Italians — formed by Pius VII., as Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto, 
 Leonardo, &c, and some foreigners, as Angelica Kauffman, Winckel- 
 mann, Poussin and Raphael Mengs ; also a collection of ancient bronze 
 utensils and a room of ancient frescoes — the most interesting of which 
 was Brutus condemning his sons to death. In the room of Bronze 
 Statuary I remember the lovely "Thorn Extractor" — a willowy, 
 graceful, lovable boy; a Horse of fine workmanship and a Hercules. 
 I am sorry not to be able to retain any distinct recollection of the cele- 
 brated Wolf. In the Picture Gallery I remember Romanelli's St. Ce- 
 cilia; Guido Reni's Magdalen; Garofolo's Transfiguration and Guer- 
 cino's St. Petronella raised from her tomb and shown to her bridegroom. 
 In the Sculpture collection : Venus in the act of loosening her hair ; 
 Marsyas bound to the tree, Infant Hercules and a Head of Esculapius. 
 At the end of the bust room there is a beautiful monument to Canova. 
 After lunch my sisters and I, taking our letter of introduction, called 
 on W. W. Story, the greatest of American sculptors. We found him 
 most affable and charming. He accompanied us himself through his 
 studios, and we could scarcely keep our admiration of his Avorks within 
 bounds. His Eros, made from a block of purest Carrara marble, which 
 he kept for ten years in order to decide how best to use it, is perfect. 
 A colossal Saul sitting in his chair, lost in impenetrable gloom and 
 awful meditation, is splendid; and a lovely Salome, Shakespeare, By- 
 ron, &c, were most interesting. We also saw some fine work by Waldo 
 Story. But soon Mr. Daziano hurried us off to the Barberini Palace, 
 

 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 39 
 
 where the party was waiting for us. Here we saw the far-famed por- 
 trait of Beatrice Cenci. It does not represent a beautiful woman, but 
 an ordinal-} 7 one intensely unhappy ; but I do not believe it was painted 
 on the eve of her execution. Portraits of her mother and step-mother 
 with terribly severe faces are near; also a lovely Holy Family by An- 
 drea del Sarto and Adam and Eve driven from Paradise. In another 
 room is a horribly realistic picture of Joseph and Potipher's Wife, and 
 a sweet boy's head by Raphael Mengs. After this we rode to the Villa 
 Albani, so full of reminiscences of Winckelmann. The grounds are 
 laid off very finely, but too artificially for my taste. There is a fine Bust 
 of Winckelmann at the entrance to the Palace. The colonades are 
 fine and splendidly adorned with antique statues. Juno, Ceres and 
 Hercules were particularly fine. The ceiling of the chief hall repre- 
 sents Apollo and the nine Muses by Raphael Mengs, and is very gor- 
 geous. One looks at the reflection in a large mirror lying on a table 
 beneath. There are some fine Tapestries here, but few fine paintings. 
 On our way back we entered San Pietro, in Vinculo, and had a long 
 look at Michael Angelo's glorious Moses in his righteous wrath, which 
 even Viardot acknowledges can compete with any work of the ancients. 
 It is a purely ideal work, and in unity, simplicity and strength, rests 
 and satisfies the mind. In one of the chapels here there was an exqui- 
 site Madonna, but I could not discover whose work it was. Again we 
 paused at the church of the Capuchins. Here is Guido's Michael and 
 the Devil, of which I have been an enthusiastic admirer since first I 
 saw it when a child in the Boston Athenaeum. St. Paul restored to 
 sight by Annanias, the best work of Pietro da Cortona, is also a splen- 
 did creation. The sacristan then took us down into the Charnel 
 House, where are buried the Friars of the order, whose bones are ar- 
 ranged in all sorts of fantastic shapes, festooned, &c, the skeletons of 
 several being dressed in costume and left standing. There are chapels 
 in the midst of all this, and the monks come here daily to pray and 
 meditate. The friar who accompanied us laughed and joked, and did 
 not seem in the least to apprehend his own inevitable interment here. 
 Wednesday, May 30th. — Early this morning we visited the Mamer- 
 tine Prison. Entering through the church of San Pietro in Carcere 
 we descended into a horrible cell, disgustingly dirty, damp and so dark 
 that the taper of our guide but faintly lighted those immediately 
 around him. Another short flight of steps led us to the lower dun- 
 geon where Jugurtha, the Catiline conspirators and the brave Vercin- 
 getorix were imprisoned and put to death. One is utterly staggered 
 by the first realization of man's awful inhumanity to man. Coming 
 up, we went at once to the Palace of the Caesars, one of the most thril- 
 ling spots in all Rome. How mysterious it seems to stand in the pri- 
 vate apartments of the great demi-gods ! The frescoes in the Tabli- 
 
40 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 num and Triclinium are still bright scarlet and the figures on a portion 
 of the walls quite distinct, and without, the pure white marble of the 
 broken pillars and capitals is thrown around in reckless confusion. 
 One can stand in the midst and say: Here was the Basilica, there 
 the Rostra where the Emperor received the salutations of the people; 
 this the mosaic pavement which he trod daily to reach the portico in 
 front, and that the bar to which prisoners were brought and tried. 
 Around the ruins there is a modern garden now, and standing here on 
 the Palatine one can see the other Six Hills. They are very low indeed, 
 scarcely more than mounds ; but of course the general effect is as pic- 
 turesque and charming as it ever was. Hurrying hence we entered the 
 Borghese Palace and were delighted with the magnificent collection of 
 paintings. The Head of St. Joseph by Guido Reni was remarkably 
 beautiful. There was an interesting portrait of Csesar Borgia by 
 Raphael; a copy of Correggio's Magdalen; the Danae by Correggio ; a 
 perfectly lovely Madonna and child by Carlo Dolce; Diana by Dom- 
 enichino ; the Four Seasons by Albani; a lovely standing, nude Venus ; 
 Return of the Prodigal by Guercino; the Marriage of Alexander by 
 Raphael, very much faded and the figures very small, but full of life 
 and joy; a sweet, restful landscape by Paul Potter and a Deposition 
 from the Cross by Vandyck. In the Rospigliosi Palace we saw Guido's 
 far-famed Aurora, a grand ceiling fresco. The boldness of conception 
 and brilliancy of coloring make the work a very fascinating one. The 
 deep blue of the sea and sky, the stars and the radiant women in their 
 chariot personify the most glorious fact in our existence — that light 
 can emerge from darkness. In the Palazzo Reale near by we saw some 
 fine paintings: Domenichino's David; Andromeda chained to the 
 rock, very beautiful; Heads of Twelve Apostles in separate pictures 
 by Rubens; Adam and Eve by Domenichino; Samson destroying the 
 Temple of Dagon by Carracci, very fine. The Tapestries in this Pal- 
 ace were the finest of any that we have seen. Those of one hall in par- 
 ticular were exquisite. There were four scenes: Christ washing the 
 Apostles' feet; the Martyrdom of Stephen ; the Scourging in the Tem- 
 ple, and the Last Supper. All are vivid, delicate, rich and impressive. 
 The State apartments are very elegant. The gold room is the finest 
 and richest, the walls beins; covered with gold damask and all the furni- 
 ture matching. A full length portrait of Queen Margherita is the real 
 adornment of the room; the opposite one of King Humbert — a short 
 thick-set little soldier, is not a?sthetic. The Throne room is in red 
 satin ; then follows a blue satin room in which there were two graceful 
 modern statues, nymphs or fairies, and a fine stuffed Eagle swooping 
 down on a lovely pheasant. The long, narrow hall was adorned with 
 some rather pretty marbles, the most noticeable being that of a mother 
 holding grapes above a child's head. The State-dining-room was more 
 gorgeous than words can describe. 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 41 
 
 Thursday, May 31st. — All our sight-seeing terminated with yester- 
 day, for the time of our departure being fixed for 2 P. M. to-day, we 
 were left to dispose of the morning as best we could. We spent it in 
 getting keep-sakes and mementoes of great Rome, and my sister and I 
 each purchased a fine painting, hers being Guiclo's St. Sebastian and 
 mine Carlo Dolce's Madonna and Child. During one of our rides we 
 saw the Tower from which Nero watched the burning of Eome and 
 we became quite familiar with the street " delle Quattro Fontane." 
 How lovely this must have been in its pristiue glory! Here where 
 the present cannot be dissevered from the immortal past, where all 
 lovely forms seek to congregate, the seat of a mighty Hierarchy and 
 the residence of the King of Italy, everyone seems to be under a spell 
 and to revel in the privilege of living, if but for a short time, in Eome. 
 It is a strange conglomeration of all that is fascinating. One cannot 
 but see that Italy is awaking from a long sleep. I had no idea that 
 the modern aspect of Rome would be so interesting. The influence of 
 our own great Country can be plainly seen here and everywhere in 
 Europe. We all have been much interested in the ruins of the mag- 
 nificent Aquiducts, stretching across the Campagna for a great distance 
 and defying the ravages of time. Of the twelve Gates we saw the Porta 
 Maggiore and the Porta San Sebastiano. 
 
 Naples, Saturday, June 2nd. — The "Roman News" for this 
 morning announces that a new Venus was discovered yesterday on the 
 Esquiline. How I should love to go back and see it! We have spent 
 our first day here laboriously. Our first visit was to the Palazzo Reale. 
 Here is the finest stair-case in Europe. It certainly exceeds anything 
 we have seen. Everything is white marble, walls, floor, balustrade, 
 steps and gallery; and portions of this are cut and sculptured splen- 
 didly. The immense mirrors and magnificent tapestries of the State 
 apartments are truly regal. There are also many handsome works of 
 art : St. John the Baptist by Guido ; Dream of St. Joseph by Guercino ; 
 Orpheus, playing on a violin (which we thought rather singular), by 
 Caravaggio ; a bronze Bust of Bacchus brought from Herculanenm ; a 
 tapestry portrait of Charles X. ; several portraits by Titian ; Holy 
 Family by Ghirlandajo ; an inlaid cabinet ; a copy of Domenichino ; 
 Communion of St. Jerome ; the most exquisite St. Francis by Carlo 
 Dolce ; a lovely Nun gazing on the Crucifix ; Rebecca at the well, and 
 Massacre of St. Bartholomew, in which Coligny stands at his door calm 
 and immovable before his murderers. We then drove to the celebrated 
 Musee. It is so vast, that for a while we just ran around in the most 
 frantic style, some wanting to see one thing and some another, and all 
 afraid to separate. Among the glorious Greek works here is the Far- 
 nese Bull. This, the only ancient work cut from a single block re- 
 maining to us, is more wonderful than one can form any idea of. The 
 
42 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 story of the dreadful punishment of the guilty woman — to be tied to 
 and dragged by the bull, and the intercession of her rival, is plainly 
 and unerringly depicted. The untameable animal is a splendid crea- 
 tion, and every figure is life-like and individualized. The Farnese 
 Hercules is a magnificent specimen of corporeal strength, free from 
 vulgarity and coarseness. Can a modern conceive this idea? The 
 Venus Callipyge, found on the site of the golden house of Nero, and 
 thought to be a work of Praxiteles, is a graceful, gracious woman, 
 whose tact and delicacy of sentiment are evidently infinite. But, as 
 Bulwer says, the ravishing beauty of the Capitoline Venus pales and 
 fades away before his own lone — the Psyche of this museum. The 
 expression is faultless: it is purity embodied. The lovely neck, atti- 
 tude of head and cast of features leave nothing to be desired. There 
 is a grand, colossal Flora; four Venuses ; Atlas supporting the globe ; 
 the Apollo Citharcedus with chlamys of red porphry; Adonis; Anti- 
 nous as Bacchus; also a colossal head of Julius Caesar ; statue of Tra- 
 jan with highly polished bas-relief upon his cuirass; a statue of 
 Lucius Verus ; a mosaic of the Battle of Issus ; and in the hall of 
 Bronzes, six Dancing Girls with eyes of enamel found at Hercula- 
 neum : a fine bust of Plato, and a beautiful statue of Augustus. In 
 the endless Picture Gallery one is even more bewildered. I remember 
 the following: Ribera's St. Jerome terrified by the Trumpet of the Last 
 Judgment; Albert Uurer's Nativity; Titian's portraits of Philip II. 
 and Paul III.; Domenichino's Guardian Angel — a lovely and very 
 pleasing painting; Raphael's Holy Family, called the Madonna col di- 
 vino amore (judging from Raphael'* pictures, one would never dream 
 that there was such a thing as sorrow or pain on earth, his faces are 
 always serene or ecstatic) : Carracci's Dead Christ; the Madonna della 
 Gatta painted by Julio Romano from Raphael's design, and Correggio's 
 Madonna della %ingarella, a rest during the Flight into Egypt. Beau- 
 tiful Nativities. Martyrdoms, St Sebastians, St. John the Baptists and 
 Magdalens must haunt the memory of one who has wandered throu°"h 
 this lovely Gallery. Returning to our carriages we rode for twelve 
 miles through an uninterrupted city to Pompeii. It is impossible to con- 
 ceive such degradation as these people live in, happily and contentedly. 
 There are so many who are deformed, diseased or disabled, and these 
 are stationed along the road to spend their lives in begging. Whether 
 this is owing to the climate, local causes, or the negligence of parents I 
 do not know, but it is a most painful reality, and 1 cannot at all enter 
 into the feelings of those who prize existence for themselves or others 
 at such a cost. The Neapolitans displayed all their leading character- 
 istics for our benefit, shouting, gesticulating and begging and making 
 as much noise as possible. On giving or refusing, they call down all 
 the blessings or all the curses of Heaven upon you. We passed through 
 
Mt JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. * 43 
 
 one village entirely devoted to the making of maccaroni and saw it in 
 all stages of development. During our ride, Vesuvius was so covered 
 with clouds, that we could see nothing but the base. At last Pompeii 
 was reached. The whole city stands before one, as if two-thirds of 
 every building had been taken off from the top. The marble of the 
 atrium of many houses is as pure and. white as if just placed there. 
 We went in the Civil Forum, the Temple of Jupiter, both very impos- 
 ing with many graceful columns and broad steps ; the Triangular Fo- 
 rum, the street of Tombs and many private houses. The rooms of 
 these were so small, that I cannot imagine how the people managed to 
 get along. Frescoes still remain in many, and pedestals, but no other 
 decorations whatever. Everything has been taken to the Naples Mu- 
 seum, and the antiquary and specialist must divide his attention be- 
 tween this and the city. In the streets there are deep ruts made by 
 the chariot wheels. We saw the bread ovens and the mills for grind- 
 ing. But all faded before the interest we felt in the Houses identified 
 in Bulwer's " Last Days, " on whose fascinating pages Pompeii lives 
 again in more than actual splendor. The Temple of Isis, the houses 
 of Arbaces, Panca, Sallust, Diomed and Glaucus! Surely no one can 
 look on them without enthusiasm. Of course there is a monotony 
 about the streets after awhile, and at one moment I felt how little re- 
 mained, at another, how much. In the Museum, at the entrance, there 
 is a collection of utensils, and a few bodies still lying just as they fell. 
 On our homeward way I was the first to recognize Vesuvius freed from 
 clouds, and could scarcely repress a scream of delight as I saw the 
 blood red flame issuing from its cone-like summit. It is certainly the 
 most exquisitely shaped mountain I ever saw ; forming almost a perfect 
 triangle. The light is simply the reflection from the crater on the ris- 
 ing vapor; but as it dies away and revives, the mountain seems to dis- 
 gorge a molten mass, and it is truly a thrilling sight; terrible in its 
 beauty; beautiful in the midst of the terror it inspires. To-day, while 
 the gentlemen and Mrs. S. made the ascent of Vesuvius, we remaining 
 ladies, Miss L , Mrs. B. and. ourselves took a carriage and drove around. 
 After shopping a little we rode to Capodimonte, the suburban Palace 
 of the King of Italy. The grounds here are perfectly beautiful, with 
 numerous avenues of grand old trees, whose branches are so interlaced 
 as to make the vistas look like fairy-land. There is a rather nice avi- 
 ary here. The interior of the Palace is very handsome. On the first 
 landing there is a bronze Bust of Charles III., King of Sardinia, and 
 higher a white, marble Bust of Victor Emmanuel. In the first room is 
 a lovely model of the Temple of Isis at Pompeii, and in the various 
 rooms the following pictures : Orpheus in the Inferno by Scella ; the 
 Storm by Mannini ; Death of Phaedra — very good — by a modern, de 
 Angelico ; Death of Cassar ; Judith standing on the Temple steps with 
 
44 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 the head of Holofernes ; Sacrifice of Virginia; Departure of Ulysses; 
 and Death of Abel, in which the face of Eve as a brunette is particu- 
 larly lovely — these last six immensely large pictures occupied the 
 whole of one room, and all were intensely interesting ; Michael Angelo at 
 the bier of Vittoria Oolonna was one of the most thoroughly fine pictures 
 I have ever seen. The white satin of the dead one's dress was so, per- 
 fectly represented as to deceive the senses ; the flowers, the aged artist, 
 the animated faces in the distance and the lifeless form were all per- 
 fect, all irradiated by the knowledge of the ideal affection that existed 
 between these gifted ones and the intense and irremediable sorrow 
 that the aged survivor must have felt. There was a full length por- 
 trait of Napoleon I. in his imperial robes. . Ajax and Cassandra and 
 several beautiful portraits of members of the .Royal Families of Eu- 
 rope. We then rode to San Martino, an ancient convent broken up by 
 Garibaldi, and now used for a Museum. The church is one of the 
 richest and handsomest we have seen, the walls being like those of 
 the Sis tine chapel of Santa Maria Maggiore, entirely composed of va- 
 rious colored marbles; and the altar railing white marble encrusted 
 with gems and gold. There are some very fine pictures here by Guido, 
 Gnercino, Carravaggio and other celebrities. In the Museum we saw 
 the vessel in which Charles VIII. came to Italy the first time ; many 
 curious models of Italian cities, and among other things, a duplicate 
 of the Madonna and Child, we have at home, bearing the name of the 
 donor, but not of the artist, and the date of seventeen hundred and 
 something. In one of the upper rooms, called the Belvedere, we had a 
 view of Naples and its Bay, which makes one understand the famous 
 saying, " Vedi Napoli, poi mori " — for you have seen all that is worth 
 seeing in the way of landscapes. It is an inhabited amphitheatre, with 
 the ocean for its arena, and the mountains for its overarching canopy. 
 Monday, June 4th. — Yesterday we attended the English Church 
 and heard a most impressive sermon from Dent, xx, 8. — " What man 
 is there that is fearful and faint-hearted? let him go and return unto 
 his house lest his brethren's heart faint as well as his heart." I don't 
 think I can ever forget the sweet and holy influence of that hour. In 
 the afternoon we rested and enjoyed our religious books and the preci- 
 ous hours flew only too fast. We have had a charming excursion down 
 the Bay to-day. It has seemed strange to turn from Rome with its in- 
 numerable Historical associations to a city altogether devoid of them 
 and unconnected with any very famous mimes or events, for it is only 
 as a platform that Naples has served ^> the great of other countries. 
 Sn it was refreshing to touch at Sorrento the birth-place of the immor- 
 tal Tasso. I could not wonder that he was a poet, for the picturescpie 
 little town built up on the edge of the cliffs and looking down on the 
 Siren waters must certainly shame every one into poetic feeling. But 
 
MY journal in Foreign lands. 45 
 
 Capri was our destination and just before landing we stopped for the 
 Grotto. There are numerous low openings in the side of the mountain 
 and through one of these is the entrance to the famous Blue Grotto. 
 Only three persons can occupy one boat, so A. and N. went with Mr. 
 M. and I with Mr. L. and Mr. J. All are told to stoop as the boat 
 enters the cave, for fear of injury from the projecting rocks. As our 
 boat entered, two others were coming out and here we all were wedged 
 in so that motion was stopped. The crystal clearness of the water per- 
 mitting us to see to the depth of thirty-five feet did not contribute to 
 our reassurance at this moment. I confess that I was much frightened. 
 But the rowers pushed the boats apart after a little effort and in we 
 went. The exquisite color of the water makes one think that blue has 
 never been seen before ; so deeply, darkly, beautifully blue are 
 these waters dyed. Of course day light fades and the grotto becomes 
 more and more uncanny as one proceeds. At one point there appeared 
 a nude man, the object of whose appearance in that state I could not 
 then imagine. Afterwards we learned that he occupied himself in 
 diving for the delectation of visitors and a good fee of course. Here 
 our guide began talking in the most rapid and unintelligible Italian 
 about taking us in farther. We tried French and English on him and 
 failing so far, all began gesticulating and shouting "Out, out, out!" 
 until it was truly ridiculous. When all boarded the tug again, mutual 
 congratulations were exchanged. We disembarked and lunched at the 
 village of Capri, where my sister N\, Mr, D., Mr. M., and Mrs. S. took 
 a donkey ride up the -mountain, about the fun of which I fear we shall 
 never hear the last. The extraordinary beauty of the women here 
 struck us all and we could easily believe in their Greek origin. Return- 
 ing, lovely Italian music cheered and enlivened us nearly all the way. 
 The songs of the little boys who dived for centissimi were perfectly 
 lovely. Altogether we had a most enjoyable day. The Public Gardens 
 here are quite pretty, adorned with fine statues, copies of the Apollo 
 Belvedere, the Meleager, Dying Gladiator, &c, &c. The Quay is very 
 imposing and at night when illuminated, a wonderful scene. I hate to 
 leave without another visit to the Museum. 
 
 Florence, Friday, June 8th. — We left Napoli Tuesday afternoon 
 and to our great regret were compelled to preceed without Miss L. and 
 her father, the former feeling unwell and deeming it expedient to 
 rest awhile. An interesting ride brought us back to the Eternal City, 
 and in the morning's ride to the Depot we saw again many familiar 
 and grand old objects. On the way here we saw the Lake of Thrasi- 
 mene and the site of the disastrous battle between the Romans and 
 Carthagenians. As we only had these two days here we started out 
 early Thursday morning prepared to rush. The grand old Duomo was 
 our first stopping place. It is undergoing repairs both internally and 
 
46 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 externally, but the ancient work and designs can be plainly seen. Its 
 Avails are of brick encrusfred with black and white marble and it is 
 adorned with statues within and without. Its dome by Brutielleschi 
 is wider than that of the Pantheon or St. Peter's. In the nave of the 
 mighty Temple men look like children and the dim light struggles 
 through beautifully stained windows. The paintings in the dome by 
 % !?uccheri and Vasari are still very fine and the collossal s.tatues in 
 niches produce a grand effect. The air of dilapidation and desolation 
 here seems right and proper, for it is as a monument of that which 
 once was that it seems most fitting to view it and all the old Cathe- 
 drals, not as a factor in the life of modern times. By the way, do our 
 thinkers and writers consider what a large proportion of the world's 
 inhabitants are now, at this present moment, living in a past age, 
 and that the fact is one which cannot be ignored ? The Campanile, 
 like that of Pisa, is built separately, and was thought so beautiful by 
 Charles V. as to be worthy to be enclosed in a glass case. It is built of 
 different colored marble and is light, yet substantial, lofty and graceful. 
 But the Baptistery is the most interesting of the three. The central 
 door by Ghiberti was thought by Michael Angelo to be worthy to be the 
 portal of Paradise, and Dante mentions it in his Inferno. This chief 
 door is indeed wonderful, containing ten distinct Scripture Scenes in 
 alto-relievo; which, while it may transcend the limits of the plastic 
 art, delights and entrances every beholder. Each figure is so distinct, 
 the salient points of the History so seized upon and forcibly depicted 
 that it is almost like reading the Old Testament. The work is so ex- 
 quisitely line and every detail so perfect that the great master's judg- 
 ment cannot surprise anyone. Within there is a very, very ancient air, 
 the frescoes of Heaven and Hell being epitomes of the ideas of the 
 Middle Ages, and those of the latter are as grotescpie as they are horri- 
 ble. The altar-piece is of white marble — the figure of St. John sur- 
 rounded by clouds and angels. We then hurried to the Loggia de 
 Lanzi, erected in 1375 and so called because it was the guard house of 
 the lancers in the reign of Cosmo I. It is a spacious open porch filled 
 with the most magnificent sculptures. The marble group of the Eape 
 of the Sabines, a very ugly subject I think, but a well executed work 
 on the right; the bronze Perseus with the head of Medusa, bold and 
 striking, on the left; and within the Eape of Polyxena. Ajax support- 
 ing a dead warrior, six beautiful women brought from Borne, Judith 
 with the head of Holofernes and Hercules struggling with Nestor. 
 From this portico one looks out on the Piazza in which Savonarola 
 was burned to death. It seems a privilege to belong to that army of pil- 
 grims who keep alive the memory of his noble life and heart-rending 
 death. In this light a tour through Europe has a real significance; who 
 can tell whether Providence has not permitted the spell of material 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 47 
 
 beauty to serve as a means for the preservation of moral truth ? Near 
 this is the Palazzo Vechio, in which there are numerous line old fres- 
 coes and the gallery of which serves as an entrance into the Uffizi and 
 Pitti Palaces. How can I describe all the marvels of these wondrous 
 museums! We first entered the Tribune or Octagon hall, in the centre 
 of which stands the Venus de Medici, a beauty without a rival. Hav- 
 ing the present field entirely to myself, I will not hesitate to say that I 
 think she is just a little bit too conscious of her beauty. The expres- 
 sion when seen from the right is very captivating, but the whole falls 
 far short of the Capitoline Venus. On one side is the Grinder with an 
 expression of mysterious agony; on the other two athletes wrestling 
 with each other in all the exuberance of animal spirits and conscious 
 life and health. Opposite is the Apollino, an hermaphrodite, and a fig- 
 ure of the most perfect grace and sensuous beauty; the face expresses 
 more complete happiness than any other Greek statue we have seen, and 
 the carelessness, ease and abandon of the whole figure and especially of 
 the arm thrown behind the head betray a genius without a parallel. 
 A Dancing Faun completes the unique group. The walls are covered 
 with exquisite pictures: Raphael's " La Fornarina" — the dark, glow- 
 ing face of an Italian beauty; St. John in the Wilderness and the 
 Madonna of the Goldfinch, both pervaded with that holy joy and ideal 
 purity which characterize Raphael's best works; Andrea del Sarto's 
 Madonna with St. John and St. Francis; nothing could be more un- 
 like than these two painters' conceptions of beauty and style ; there is a 
 vague unrest,a far-away,dreamy thoughtfulness about this lovely woman, 
 fch it is a? charming in its way as Raphael's repose. The other pictures here 
 are Gnido Eeni's Virgin ; two Venuses by Titian ; a grave, stern Holy 
 Family by Michael Angelo, Correggio's Madonna, and Albert Durer's 
 Adoration of the Magi. There are a number of small halls, all con- 
 taining gems. Among them are Leonarda's Head of Medusa, in which 
 the hair is changed to serpents ; Albertinelli's Visit of Mary to Eliza- 
 beth ; Carravaggio's M'edusa, in which the head is convex and very 
 curious; Uristoforo Allori's Magdalen; Carlo Dolce's Santa Lucia, 
 an exquisite face; Titian's Duke and Duchess of Urbino, Madonna 
 and Flora, the last exciting loudly expressed enthusiasm. One of the 
 vestibules contains a horse in marble ; tAvo quadrangular columns, on 
 one of which is a head of Qybele, and on the other a bust of Jupiter ; a 
 wild bo-.ir, which is a celebrated Greek antique, and two wolf-dogs. 
 Among the noticable busts in the corridor are those of Nero, Titus, 
 Marcus Aurelius, Alexander Severus and Caracalia; there is also a fine 
 copy of the Laocoon by Bandinelli. The Hall of Niobe is devoted ex- 
 clusively to the representation of the mother bereaved of her children ; 
 the mother and one child occupying the head of the room, and single 
 statues of the twelve or fourteen youths and maidens in the act of be- 
 
48 MY JOURNAL IN" FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 the 
 
 ing killed, and all in different attitudes occupying the sides of 
 room. This attempt to express deep feeling is beyond the province of 
 sculpture, and marks the decline of art. In this room an artist was 
 copying a beautiful picture of the archangel Gabriel by Guido. The 
 bridge over the Arno leading into the Pitti Palace is a very, very long 
 one, and is entirely lined with pictures; innumerable cardinals and 
 Popes, then all the Medici family, all with dreadful expressions, Cath- 
 erine, Marie and the children leaving an indellible impression, then 
 portraits of English celebrities, and, among others, Nell Gvvyn. The 
 pictures in the Pitti Palace are legion ; it would be folly in a mere 
 tourist to attempt to notice each one ; the charm consists in wandering 
 around vaguely and breathing this atmosphere of art and refinement. 
 But one must stop before ttaphsel's Madonnas-della Seggiola, del Ira- 
 patinata, and del Baldachino. I do not remember ever seeing a copy 
 of this last one. The Virgin is seated on a throne and surrounded by 
 angels and fathers of the Church ; it has more of an ecclesiastical tone 
 than any of the others. There are also striking portraits of Popes by 
 Kaphsel, a lovely, dark Madonna by Murillo, Titian's Magdalen with 
 red-golden hair and wild, untamable beauty; a fine copy of Correggio's 
 sweet, repentant Magdalen ; Carlo Dolce's Magdalen, with an expres- 
 sion of intense sadness in her dark, upturned eyes; an exquisite St. 
 John the Evangelist; Andrea del Sarto's Assumption ; a fearful Judith 
 and terrifying martyrdoms. Among the noticable statues was Charity 
 as a woman of melting tenderness and fondness ; a Victory triumph- 
 antly inscribing her children's names upon a shield; Canova's Venus, 
 pretty in execution, but lacking in force and originality. Michael An- 
 gelo's picture of the Three Fates is one of the most striking things 
 here. Every ceiling is covered with pictures as beautiful, glowing and 
 attractive as those on the walls. There are magnificent tables in each 
 room, one of which would swallow up a respectable fortune. The halls 
 of Sculpture deserve a separate day, but this we did not have to give, 
 and were obliged to enjoy them as best we could in a given time. 
 There is a Venus Genetrix, Venus at the Bath, Cupid and Psyche, and 
 a sweet Urania. In the corridor there are also several Marsyases, a 
 beautiful Juno and many fine antiques. There is an intensely interest- 
 ing hall containing portraits of artists painted by themselves from 
 Raphael, Leonarda, &c, all the way down to the moderns and loveliest of 
 all is Mine. Vigee Le Bran. By this time we all felt faint and weak, and 
 stopped at a Cafe, where, after some recuperation, we rushed to Santa 
 Croce, the Westminster Abbey of Florence. The floor is paved with 
 brick, and all is stately, majestic and venerable. The monument to 
 Dante, over which the colossal figure of the great Poet sits and broods, 
 is, of course, the most interesting. Graceful women, as Italy, poetry, 
 &c, weep and mourn over the tombs of Michael Angelo, Galileo, 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 49 
 
 Machiavelli, Al fieri and other great names in Italian History, but there 
 is nothing distinctive or remarkable about these tombs ; there is a sad 
 lacking of national pride and interest in them. We three then left the 
 party and drove to the Bank, and, after transacting our business, took 
 a letter of introduction and went to call on Mine. Cooley. Her resi- 
 dence proved to be a palatial one ; Ave drove in the court, were escorted 
 up the broad stair-way by an attendant in full dress, and met by an- 
 other in the ante-room, which was prettily adorned with statuettes on 
 pedestals and divans. To our regret the attendant announced that 
 Mine. C was just about to step into her carriage, and this evening, 
 after returning to the Hotel, we received a note from her, expressing 
 her regret in being obliged to fulfill an engagement at that hour, and 
 asking us to call again. But to-day has been full to the brim. This 
 morning we visited the Medicean chapel. The walls and floor are 
 composed of variegated marble, and in the panels on the walls there 
 are medallions inlaid with lapis lazuli, jasper, agate, &c, representing 
 the coats-of-arms of the different Tuscan cities. The frescoes in the 
 dome, representing scenes from the Old Testament, are peculiarly 
 brilliant and beautiful ; Adam and Eve ; Cain slaying Abel ; Abraham 
 and Isaac, &c, &c. Banged around the circular chapel are the giant 
 sarcophagi of Ferdinand II., Cosmo II., Ferdinand I., Francisco I. and 
 Cosmo III. There are two elegant bronze statues, one in gilt bronze, 
 the other in dark green, and each tomb is surmounted by a gold pillow 
 or cushion on which rests a crown, both of which are studed with the 
 most magnificent gems, — emeralds, rubies and diamonds. Wherever 
 the eye turns it meets glowing colors and wondrous mechanism. One 
 feels mystified in attempting to account for such an expenditure of 
 wealth and talent. But the great obscure, of course, need something 
 peculiarly startling to remind the world that they once lived, and that 
 " a thing of beauty is a joy forever" is the one article in an Italian's 
 creed. As patrons of art, the Medici are, indeed, worthily remembered. 
 In the New Sacistv, attached to the church of San Lorenzo there are 
 monuments to other members of the family which are universally es- 
 teemed the master-pieces of Michael Angelo. Over the tomb of Lo- 
 renzo de Medici is the figure of the Duke in a sitting posture, com- 
 monly called ' ; II Penseroso, " so perfectly does the meditative position 
 personify thought. Beclining on the tomb are the statues Twilight 
 and Dawn under the forms of a more than mortal man and woman. 
 Opposite is the tomb of Gillian o de Medici, different in execution, but 
 the same in conception, the figures in this one being called Day and 
 Night. Grand, brooding, stern and mournful, one cannot doubt that 
 the great artist here betrayed his idea of human existence in its most 
 awful and hopeless aspects. How totally different these are from the 
 great Greek works ! But surely the adequate delineation of a profound 
 
50 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 passion must vie with that of a serene and god-like tranquility, and to 
 moderns these great works mean more than the sublimest efforts of p* 
 ages. They are placed here to the very worst advantage, crowded to- 
 gether in a little room with white Avails, and devoid of every attraction. 
 It is delightful to see our conductor's enthusiasm over the great works 
 of his countrymen. He escorted us to the church of the Annunziata with 
 expectations raised to the very highest point. It took us some time to 
 understand the object of our visit here. But at last we discovered that 
 it was to initiate us into mysteries not to be attained elsewhere. 'In 
 the vestibule and cloisters of this ancient church one is transported to 
 another age, another life, almost another world. Here are the frescoes 
 of Andrea del Sarto, untouched and unprofaned by any subsequent re- 
 storations. No handsome gilded frames, no ebonized easels, no modern 
 improvements display these to the best advantage. Oh, Iioav abstract, 
 simple and charming must have been the lives of the monks who once 
 paced up and down these grand, old cloisters ! Here one feels that art 
 must have been loved with a disinterestedness that purified and ele- 
 vated the whole nature. This visit was a splendid preparation for the 
 Convent of San Marco, which ought not to be entered in other than a 
 reverential spirit. No one could wish for a more dreamy, mystic, queer 
 old spot than this. We implored our guide to take us to Savonarola's 
 cell, but for some impenetrable reason this great privilege was not to 
 be obtained. Well, at all events, we know that he walked all through 
 these vast halls, and here, perhaps, Romola wended her way when she 
 came to unburden her distressed soul; for who can feel, while here, 
 that this creation of genius is not as real a person as the great patriot 
 himself? Both cast over Florence a radiance of unearthly beauty. 
 The Convent is now used for a Museum, and here stands the great 
 David of Michael Angelo, in the midst of a large collection of casts of 
 his works by other artists. The David is so huge, and the expression 
 so fierce and scornful, that at first I did not like it. But the more one 
 studies it, the more attractive it becomes. One understands the wrath 
 that dilates the quivering nostrils, and the indignation that hardens 
 the youthful month as he stands forward to answer the challenge made 
 to the armies of the living God. The same passionate feeling that re- 
 veals itself in all of the great sculptors' best works is stamped upon 
 this one. Near this is a splendid gallery of paintings, affording a mag- 
 nificent field for the student of Tuscan art. Here are the works of 
 Fra Fillipo Lippi, Fra Angel ico, Fra Bartolommeo, Luini, Perugino 
 Cigoli, Aretino and others, in whose histories and works one suddenly 
 discovers an interest which would be totally incomprehensible in our 
 own country. Coronations of the Virgin. Virgins adoring the infant Sa- 
 viour, Assumptions, Crucifixions, &c. all angular, still", unnatural, are 
 redeemed both in subject and treatment by a pathos, a reverence and 
 
 us 
 ast 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 51 
 
 a devotion that is unknown elsewhere in art. It is this lifting of the 
 individual out of self and self-interest into a broader realm of thought 
 and sympathy that the old world holds as a reward for all who brave 
 the dangers of the sea to visit and behold her rightly. In the Acad- 
 emy of Fine Arts there are some beautiful modern paintings. " Raph- 
 ael dying," by Morgan Adolfo, is exceedingly beautiful; the wasted 
 frame and mournful expression of the youthful genius, and the anguish 
 in the faces of those around his bed, present a scene long to be remem- 
 bered. The Three Marys at the Tomb, by Gaspero, shows us three 
 lovely women with the " tender grace " of a sorrow that is inseparable 
 from a beautiful woman. Death of a Patrician, who is being carried 
 by monks to San Salvi ; Entrance of Charles VIII. into Florence by 
 Berzuoli Giuseppe, one of the gayest pictures imaginable, with pranc- 
 ing steeds, bright-haired pages, monks, noblemen and royal ladies; 
 Herod reproved by John the Baptist; Last attack of the Italians on 
 San Miniato in 1859; a fine Battle Scene, and, most beautiful of all, 
 " Fra Fillipo Lippi discovering his love to a Young Nun, " in whose 
 delicate, blonde face there is a rapture, an ecstasy that is thrilling, and 
 a Portrait of Dante are among the most remarkable works. After 
 lunch at a nice Cafe, Mr. Daziano brought us up at the church of Santa 
 Maria Novella to behold a treasure which no American would ever 
 discover for himself. In this wierd, uncanny and mouldy old place is 
 shrined the wonderful Virgin of Cimabue, a national heirloom that is 
 sacred to every true Italian. It is certainly the oddest thing we have 
 seen, so severe, pompous and preposterous as to give rise to anything 
 but pleasurable emotions. And yet this fantastic being at once takes 
 a place in the heart of every tourist from which it is never to be dis- 
 lodged. We feel that we have been taken behind the scenes and shown 
 the household treasures and the inner life of a people whose whole 
 history is a romance. Here are also the queerest frescoes by Taddeo 
 Gaddi, Simone Memnie and Giotto, in which the gloomiest mysticism 
 of the Middle Ages is portrayed by means of puerile stories and child- 
 ish caricatures. To-day, too, we had a delightful time in the beautiful 
 stores of Florence, though it almost makes one feverish to choose a few 
 out of the wilderness of statuettes and mosaics for which this fair city 
 is famous. Surely this lovely visit will long " haunt the greenest spot 
 of memory's waste. " 
 
 Venice, Tuesday, June 12th. — Our journey here through the nu- 
 merous tunnels of the Apennines was quite a trying and fatiguing trip, 
 and then to be asked immediately on alighting at the station to get 
 into one of these flat, treacherous looking, black gondolas, and ride a 
 considerable distance on the sullen, slimy canal seemed to cap the 
 climax. But we glided up the Grand Canal so smoothly and soothingly, 
 that it proved rather restful than otherwise. Our rooms on one side 
 
52 MY JOURNAL IK FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 look out on the water, and on another on the court of the Hotel, and 
 at first my sense of imprisonment was almost intolerable. I did not 
 know, then, or realize that at the other side of the Hotel there was a 
 way of getting out into the streets, and those the most fascinating 
 streets imaginable. We arrived here Saturday night, and on Sunday 
 morning, thinking the gentlemen of our party had reached their limit 
 in accompanying ns to the English church, proposed that we should all 
 attend the Presbyterian service. Starting off in a gondola to wind our 
 way through the floating city, Ave "glided up her streets as in a dream" 
 — after a good many turns on finding canals blockaded, and were 
 landed on a square devoid of anything pertaining to a church. After 
 a search we found a placard with a hand pointing down a long, narrow 
 passage in an ordinary building, and, going in, found another pointing 
 up a sleep flight of steps. But all endeavors to get in the room des- 
 ignated were fruitless, and, on coming down, we discovered that the 
 service would not begin until half past twelve. As it was not more 
 than eleven o'clock, we resolved to try the English church. After a 
 long) warm walk over several bridges, and stopping to lift up the heavy 
 curtain of a Catholic church, and look in on the full orchestra and 
 gorgeous display, we reached the Palazzo Contarini degli Scerigni, and, 
 climbing countless flights of steps, reached the picture gallery, where 
 service was being held. There were only a few paintings, but these 
 and the marble pillars and floors did seem so strange and incongruous, 
 that it was hard to fix the attention during the exceedingly small por- 
 tion of the service that remained. We were accompanied here by a 
 thoroughly delightful, old, English gentleman, who advised us to stop 
 in a Cafe on our homeward journey and take something to sustain us 
 in this strange region. So we went in a German, open-air Cafe, and, 
 after they had made the orange-ice for us. Ave were refreshed enough 
 to start on. On asking for gateau, they brought us cracked ice, so we 
 held as little communication as possible. In the afternoon there Avas 
 the unveiling of a Bust of Garibaldi in the Piazza di San Marco, the 
 bands were out, and the excitement was very great. All together, this was 
 the strangest Sunday I ever spent. Monday morning Ave visited first 
 of all the Palace of the Doges. Ascending the Giants' Staircase, with 
 the colossal statues of Mars and Neptune at the head, Ave walked 
 through the regal arcade and looked out upon the court in which the 
 Bull Eights were held. Then entering the Palace Ave ascended the 
 Golden Staircase and began the tour of the great picture gallery, for 
 this is all that now remains as a vestige of the past. We almost 
 thought we had not seen any pictures yet, when the vivid colors, life- 
 like characterization and overpowering brilliancy of the -Venetian 
 School burst upon us. Henry II. arriving in Venice by Vicentio; the 
 Doge Cigona in presence of the Saviour; Venice on the lion against 
 
IVIY JOURNAL IN" FOREIGN LANDS. 53 
 
 Europa on the bull ; the impersonation of the Queen of the Adriatic 
 — all of these are so dazzlingly brilliant, that words cannot give the 
 faintest conception of them. The Doges are clothed in ermine and 
 satin, and even when kneeling before the Saviour wear the haughty 
 expression indicative of absolute power. Crossing the Eed Sea by Ti- 
 tian ; Nuptials of St. Catherine (she is married to the Infant Saviour, 
 but, though very eccentric, this is a beautiful picture), the Virgin in 
 Glory and Adoration of the Saviour, all by Tintoretto; the Battle of 
 Lepanto, in which Don John, of Austria, figures conspicuously; Ve- 
 netia with Faith, Justice and Peace, by Paul Veronese, constitute an- 
 other detachment, and equally beautiful. The Rape of Europa by 
 Paul Veronese, thought by many to be the gem of this entire collec- 
 tion, certainly does represent perfect physical existence, but it is by no 
 means a favorite with me. Then Ave entered the hall of the " Chief 
 Three, " a room, I suppose, which has witnessed more Satanic cruelty, 
 cold-blooded treachery and inhumanity than any other in existence. 
 The ceiling and frieze are gorgeously painted, some of the figures seem 
 just about to speak, so vividly is the action portrayed. Around the 
 wall is a high daedo, and in this a secret door which leads to the 
 Bridge of Sighs and the prisons. In the Salla della B&ssola we saw 
 the opening in the wall called the " Lion's Mouth, " in which secret 
 denunciations were thrown. In the hall of the Great Council the 
 frieze consists of the portraits of seventy-two Doges, with an empty 
 space for that of Marino Faliero, who was executed for his crimes. 
 Surely there is nothing more wierd, mysterious and fascinating than the 
 History of Venice. It was almost impossible to realize that I, my very own 
 self, was here in the midst of the scenes gloated over in childhood as 
 more unreal than any furnished by fiction. In one of the halls we saw Tin- 
 toretto's Paradise, said to be the largest oil-painting in the world. It 
 covers the entire east wall, and some of the cherubs and women are in- 
 describably lovely. The hall " dello Scrutino, " or voting chamber, is 
 filled with magnificent, Historical pictures, and also the Last Judg- 
 ment of Palma Giovanni. We are getting almost as much interested 
 in the private history of the painters as in the works themselves; so 
 many more of their figures are taken from living models than I had 
 supposed. They seem to make their wives go to Heaven or Hell, ac- 
 cording to the humor they are in at the moment. We went through 
 the Library and the Archaeological Museum, where we saw the famous 
 Map of the World made by a monk in 1457. It is exceedingly curious. 
 There are some fine marbles here; ancient copies and duplicates, the 
 celebrated Venus of Cnidos, Cupid, Juno, the Muses, &c. We crossed 
 over the Bridge of Sighs. It is a little corridor scarcely more than 
 wide enough for two to walk abreast, the windows being cut out, orna- 
 mentally, from the solid stone. We descended into the two ranges of 
 
54 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 prisons known in history as the Pozzi^ Not a ray of light lias eve 
 penetrated into these awfiri cells. One has to creep into them through 
 appertures like windows. There are other smaller openings, on the 
 outside of which the Confessor stood to shrive the condemned one 
 within. Our guide said he would show us how dark these cells were 
 by going off with the light. We felt appalled by the horrible gloom, 
 and the knowledge that we could never find our way back without 
 him. AVe came back through the Palace, and by an exit that led us 
 into St. Mark's. Oh, how wierd, gloomy and magnificent this old pile 
 appears! It is totally unlike anything we hare seen. One sees the 
 whole of Venetian history unroll itself here. Underneath the High 
 Altar are the bones of St. Mark. Behind this are two delicate, trans- 
 lucent columns of alabaster brought from the Temple of Solomon. 
 The bronze font belongs to the year 1300. There is a slab at the 
 chief entrance commemorating the reconciliation of Alexander III. 
 and Barbarossa. The ceiling is almost entirely composed of mosaics, 
 the back-ground being gold, and the figures strange, gigantic beings 
 like those of Cimabue, Taddeo Gaddi, &c. The exterior of St. Mark's 
 is more imposing than the interior. It is a strange conglomeration of 
 architectures, burdened with its hoary cupolas, and bending beneath 
 the weight of years and the strifes it has witnessed. The external 
 frescoes, now faded and defaced, the famous Grecian horses, prancing 
 with the same life and animation they knew more than two thousand 
 years ago, the roosts and nests for the sacred pigeon running all along 
 the entablature, all go to make up a sight that is unique and marvel- 
 ously impressive. Three flag-staffs stand in front of the Cathedral 
 bearing the Venetian colors, stripes of red, white and nile green in 
 richest silk. On one side is the Campanile, a genuine antique, and 
 on the other the Torre del'l Orlogio with two bronze figures to strike 
 the hours with ponderous wands- In the Piazzetta near by are the two 
 lofty granite columns which have long stood as trophies of the tri- 
 umph of A r en ice over the East, and which Ruskin declares the most 
 beautiful things in the world. One is surmounted by the winged lion 
 of St. Mark, and the other by St. Theodore treading on a crocodile. 
 The great square of St, Mark is hounded by the old and new Palaces 
 of the Procurators, the lower stories now consisting of restaurants and 
 the most brilliant of stores. In this fascinating arcade Ave now took 
 lunch, and then, resuming our seats in the gondolas, visited the church 
 of St. Giovanni e Paolo. It is very ancient, and has been called the 
 Westminster Abbey of Venice, because many of the Doges and Vene- 
 tian naval commanders are buried here. Some of the monuments rep- 
 resent them on horseback, and others' are immense fagades covered 
 with as many as fifteen allegorical figures. There is a copy of Titian's 
 Peter Martyr here, and in a chapel the ruins of beautiful marble reliefs 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 55 
 
 (representing the joys and sorrows of life in all its stages), which are 
 well worth a visit. We then started off on a long gondola-ride to the 
 Armenian Monastery of St. Lazarus and the Isle of Lido. The former 
 is certainly an idealistic abode — the gardens, the corridors, the refec- 
 tory and the spotless aspect of everything leave a charming impression. 
 A very happy looking monk conducted us around. They have a line 
 picture gallery, a splendid collection of illuminated missals, a hand- 
 some library containing the writing-table and ink-stand of Lord Byron? 
 who elected to live here during his stay in Venice; a cabinet of curi- 
 osities where we saw some lace " made by American girls." We all 
 registered in the Visitors' List, which contains the autographs of 
 Princes, Princesses, authors, artists and people of all ranks and na- 
 tionalities. Their chapel is very peculiar, indicating their doctrine and 
 belief, which the monk told us was midway between that of the Soman 
 and the Greek Church. The monks spend their time in educating 
 young men, and maintaining their faith in this quarter of the world. 
 The Lido is an island washed on one side by the Lagoon, and on the 
 other by the Adriatic. There are horses here, and I suppose a carriage 
 drive is one of the baits held out to allure visitors. There were a good 
 many here, some enjoying the delights of a sea-bath, and others watch- 
 ing their antics. This morning we visited the Academy of Fine Arts 
 and saw the following works : Titian's Assumption — the gem of the 
 collection. It represents the Madonna in the full bloom of mature 
 womanhood, ecstatically happy and divinely powerful. The coloring 
 is deep and rich, whiie the cherubs are fascinating, and the Apostles 
 beneath, standing on terra firma, quite as awe-struck and amazed as 
 they would have been if they had seen the mother of their Master as- 
 cend as He did. Tintoretto's Adam and Eve; Marco Basaiti's Call- 
 ing of the Sons of Zebedee, very interesting; Tintoretto's Virgin and 
 Child with three Senators, very eccentric and curious ; Titian's Burial 
 of Christ and Visit of Mary to Elizabeth ; Giovanni Bellini's Virgin 
 and Six Saints, fine; Tintoretto's St. Mark delivering a slave con- 
 demned to death, an immense and thrilling picture; and his Death 
 of Abel, too dark to be enjoyed ; Bonifazio's Adoration of the Magi? 
 original, and Judgment of Solomon in regard to the two mothers and 
 their children; Titian's. John the Baptist in the Wilderness. The 
 Thirteenth Hall contained works by Giovanni Bellini, many of which 
 are stiff and quaint, but works of true genius, and constituting the in- 
 auguration of a new school. The Fifteenth and Sixteenth Halls con- 
 tain the immense paintings ; Titian's Presentation of the Virgin, said 
 to have been executed in his fifteenth year, and one of his best works; 
 Paris Bordone's Fisherman presenting to the Doge the ring he received 
 from St. Mark; Bonifazio's Lazarus and the Sich Man ; Paul Vero- 
 nese's Virgin with Sts. Joseph, John the Baptist, Justina, Francis and 
 
56 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 Jerome, in which John the Baptist is a child, and the modern saints 
 grown men (?) Gentile Bellini's miraculous finding of a fragment of the 
 true Cross during a procession in the Grand Canal, in which the cele- 
 brated Caterino Conaro figures prominently. Then there are the ten 
 large pictures illustrating the life of St. Ursula, which made such a 
 profound impression in the Middle Ages, and the invention of which 
 was calculated to produce a line, moral effect. Paul Veronese's Supper 
 in the Rich Man's House, a gorgeous display, and another Miraculous 
 Cross work by Gentile Bellini, complete this circuit. Down stairs 
 there was a lovely small picture of the Marys around the Dead Body 
 of Christ, and a very queer one of Adam and Eve meeting John the 
 Baptist in Purgatory. There was a portrait of Canova when dead, 
 showing a fine face; and here we saw an urn containing his right 
 hand, and, on a bracket above, the chisel which that hand has rendered 
 sacred to his countrymen. There was a hall of modern paintings, but 
 only a few fine ones. The Prophet Daniel, looking very much like a 
 young and radiant woman, in the presence of Nebuchadnezzar; the 
 Death of Rachel, very pathetic, and a Procession in St, Mark's Square 
 were the only ones I cared for. Then we went all through the Glass 
 Factory, and, better still, the store, containing glass as beautiful as 
 precious stones. The church of the Frari was our next destination. 
 It contains a superb monument to Titian, a monument which makes 
 those of Westminster seem absurd. It is about the size of the exterior 
 of a good-sized chapel, with symbolical statues, reliefs of his best 
 works, and a statue of himself. Opposite is the tomb of Canova, being 
 the work which he himself designed for the monument of Titian. It 
 is in the form of a pyramid, and though much less elaborate than that 
 of Titian, more moving and impressive. After another ride we alighted 
 at the Rialto, and walked through the busy thoroughfare in the midst 
 of a bridge. Steps of ascent and descent extend throughout, and shops 
 half in-doors and half out, vegetable markets and excited groups of 
 peasants make this one of the most animated and thoroughly foreign 
 scenes that American eyes can behold. Of course it is invested with a 
 peculiar charm to all who have reveled in the " Merchant of Venice. " 
 Returning, we rushed for a few moments in the church of the Scalzi, 
 splendidly sculptured within and without. At one of the altars was a 
 picture of a Nun which was ravishingly beautiful. I must not forget 
 to indite that, while sailing on the Grand Canal, the names of the an- 
 cient Palaces were told us, and that we saw those of Lucretia Borgia, 
 Oaterina Conaro and Desdemona. Hut all are more dingy, faded and 
 time-worn than most persons would suppose from the usual descrip- 
 tions. We have enjoyed the Italian music here extravagantly. Every 
 evening gondolas lighted with transparencies glide up, and, to the ac- 
 companiment of several violins and guitars, solos and choruses by both 
 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 57 
 
 men and women, are rendered with an artlessness, a pathos and a me- 
 lodiousness that is truly captivating. 
 
 Verona, June 13th. — After much deliberation we concluded to 
 take in this genuine antique on our way to Milan. I am glad we didi 
 for it is sui generis. The amphitheatre, or Arena, is more substantial 
 and more perfect than the Coliseum. There is not a break in its 
 mighty walls, and the dens for the wild beasts, the stair-ways and the 
 galleries remain just as they were in the days of barbarism. In the 
 town there are many Roman remains ; the Porta dei Borsari and the 
 Arco di Leoni are richly ornamented, time-defying gate-ways; the 
 walls of the city still slant around it; the old bridges over the Adige? 
 which rushes along madly here, are quaint and picturesque, and the 
 entire population seems to live as if there were no modern improve- 
 ments, and no such thing as the present age. The Piazza delle Erbe, 
 or vegetable market, presents a thoroughly foreign picture. Not only 
 vegetables, but a little of everything under the sun is sold here, and 
 when we saw it, the long, narrow square was crowded with the slo- 
 venly, slouchy buyers and sellers, all taking their time, for [the concep- 
 tion of the dignity of work in and for itself seems never to have entered 
 their heads. Here stands a fountain said to have been erected by 
 King Berengariu.s in the tenth century, and near by is a brilliant fres- 
 co, by Guilio Romano, on the exterior of a house, and a pillar consist- 
 ing of a single block of marble, on which the Lion of St. Mark once 
 stood. The Palazza del Consiglio has been completely restored, and 
 presents a beautiful appearance with its external frescoes, busts and 
 columns of white marble and curious architecture. The Cathedral is 
 an* old Gothic structure ornamented externally and most incongru- 
 ously with statues of Roland and Oliver. Within the chef d'oeuvre is 
 an Assumption by Titian, in which the brunette Madonna is a glorious 
 creature, strong to rescue and courageous to defend. In this square 
 stands a fine, colossal figure of Dante. But the most wonderful works 
 here are the Tombs of the Scaligeri. Like the pyramid of Cestius, 
 these monuments perpetuate no identities, it is the workmanship it- 
 self that is remarkable. The carving and sculpturing is so compli- 
 cated, delicate and graceful, that it reminds one of lace work or fine 
 drawing. Gothic canopies, supported and surrounded by angelic fig- 
 ures, rise above the recumbent effigies of the father and son, each 
 forming a splendid pile, entirely separate and distinct, and both sur- 
 rounded by an iron railing of curious and ingenius workmanship- 
 This stands in the heart of the city, and makes one realize how strong- 
 are the links in the continuity of history. We finished our tour of 
 Verona by a visit to the house and the tomb of the immortal Juliet- 
 The house is almost too modern looking, standing in a comparatively 
 wide street, and being three or four stories high. Over the entrance 
 
58 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 there is a slab recording in Italian the established fact that this was 
 the residence of the Oapulets, and of the young girl whom the great 
 dramatist has invested with a world-wide interest. Continuing on the 
 same road, we were told to dismount at a very strange looking place« 
 Passing through a stable and a long kitchen garden, we at last reached 
 an odd, little shanty, and, going in, found a stone trough, which our 
 guide exultingly pronounced to he the object of our search. It was 
 filled with visiting cards, kindly left, I suppose, to reassure other tour- 
 ists that they need not feel lonely in their mortification. But I gener- 
 ously intend to publish, that in order to enjoy Juliet one must go, not 
 to Verona, but to the pages of the most ideal love story that was ever 
 written. 
 
 Milan, June 15th. — When we resumed our seats in the cars we 
 were completely exhausted by our laborious sight-seeing in Verona 
 and, after taking a due interest in the extensive fortifications, I was 
 indulging in nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, when my sister 
 aroused me to enjoy Lake Garda, glorified by the unrivalled beauty of 
 an Italian sunset. It is said to be nineteen hundred feet deep, and 
 surrounded by the Apenuines, varied by islands and peninsulas, and 
 adorned with one little boat, whose reflection made it seem as much 
 below as above the serene waters ; it was indeed a picture that I would 
 not have missed for anything. We rode along its shores until the my- 
 riad hues of sky and water faded into the gray of twilight, and we 
 were left to muse on the glories of the city not made with hands, whose 
 beauties can only be shadowed forth by nature's marvels. Milan is a 
 splendid, modern city, with brilliant stores under the most fascinating 
 arcade, called the Galeria Vittorio Emanuele, and new public build- 
 ings, hotels, &c. The rain was corning down steadily yesterday morn- 
 ing, so we agreed to wait awhile before setting out. But when we 
 girls came down in the court-yard to mail letters, we found that the 
 gentlemen had started off to see the Cathedral, and perceiving no ces- 
 sation in the steady fall of the rain, determined to do likewise. The 
 exterior of this world-renowned edifice, so unlike anything else in an- 
 cient or modern times, is so well represented in pictures of all descrip- 
 tions, that I could feel no surprise on beholding it. Instead of this 
 becoming a new and marvelous feature in our experience, 'we simply 
 seemed to become a part of the well-known picture, and it seemed per- 
 fectly natural to be standing in front of it. But this feeling was com- 
 pletely dissipated as soon as we stood in the interior. I was not pre- 
 pared for the solemn vaulting of the Gothic roof and arches, and the 
 vast extent of the nave and aisles. Moreover we had encountered Mr. 
 Daziano on the way, and he had hurried on to assemble the party, af- 
 ter we agreed to meet there and make the tour of the city. But 
 once within the immense church, and we felt lost : the utter impossi- 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 59 
 
 bility of finding anyone practically proved what a world it is in itself. 
 For a few moments we felt desperate, and when just about to retrace 
 our steps, chance brought us up beside our companions. The absence 
 of chapels, pictures, seats, &c, contributes greatly to the. impression of 
 grandeur and vastness here. The capitals of the clustered pillars are 
 adorned with stone statues of men and women of natural size, and 
 the fretted work is superior to that of any in the world. All is of a 
 beautiful, creamy color, and there is a unity and simplicity of design 
 that is refreshing after the over-loaded decoration of the typical, Ita- 
 lian church. In the South transept there is a fine monument in 
 black marble, erected by Pius IV. to his brothers Giacomo and Gabriel 
 de Medici, and a little farther on is the statue of St. Bartholomew 
 flayed. Every muscle is visible, and it is the most curious work 
 of art in existence. The name of the artist is involved in as great ob- 
 scurity as if he belonged to pre-historic times, whereas Ave know from 
 the very nature of the subject and the morbid treatment he must have 
 lived at a comparatively recent date. Another curiosity here is a 
 magnificent, bronze Candelabrum studded with gems, and made as 
 early as the thirteenth centnry. It is in the form of a tree, and very 
 odd looking. The splendid, stained glass windows of the choir repre- 
 sent three hundred Scripture scenes, and are thought by many to be 
 the finest in the world. The colors are certainly wonderful. But one 
 window in the aisle, representing St. Michael and the Dragon, pleased 
 me more than any other. AVhile we were making this tour a service 
 was in process, apparently only for men. We watched several nuns 
 come out of the sacristy and prepare to enter the chancel. They ar- 
 ranged each other's veils and dresses with as much care as possible, 
 and this glance at life behind the scenes will always lend its coloring 
 to our recollections of the Milan Dnomo. There are two side altars 
 with very beautiful reliefs by Busti, monuments to Popes, &c. But I 
 Avas exceedingly anxious to go down into the crypt, and, an opportu- 
 nity being offered, hailed it Avith delight. Here is the tomb of San 
 Carlo Borromeo, one of the greatest and best men that ever lived. 
 The walls of the vault are decorated with reliefs in solid silver of 
 scenes in the life of the Saint. The sarcophagus is of crystal, and 
 through this can be seen the body arrayed in pontifical robes, and 
 adorned with precious stones of every variety. The crosiers and mitre 
 are masses of gems, while ornaments hang from the top of the casket, 
 votive offerings deposited there by the nobility of Europe. There is a cross 
 of emeralds and diamonds, Avhich is the most perfectly beautiful thing 
 of the kind I ever saw. Dickens speaks of the mockery of the flashing 
 gems in the presence of death. Strangely incongruous does it seem 
 that they should serve as allurements to the tomb of one who spent his 
 life in Christ-like devotion to the poor and suffering ! Leaving the 
 
60 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 Duomo, we went in the Palazzo Reale, which is very near. I think it 
 is more elegant than those of Genoa, Rome or Naples. On the first 
 landing there is a white marble bust of Napoleon, the features of which 
 are so enormous that all resemblance is lost. And among the many 
 beautifully frescoed ceilings, one represents Napoleon as Jupiter in the 
 midst of lesser deities. Such vagaries in art are disgusting. There is 
 a beautiful statue of Flora, or Zephyr (?) here a graceful, airy, bewitching 
 nymph, There are fine paintings of recent battles, tapestries, &c- 
 The ball-room is, indeed, regal glittering Avith numberless, crystal 
 chandeliers, and adorned with handsome stucco work, and a gallery 
 from which spectators may behold the festive scene beneath. The 
 theatre, too, is very pretty, the gallery here being supported by colossal 
 figures of the Muses and Apollo. But the rooms that interested us the 
 most were the private apartments of the King and Queen. The Avails 
 were hung with embroidered moire-antique and satin, the dressing ta- 
 bles were beautifully inlaid, and everything betrayed a refined and cul- 
 tivated taste. However, the floors of these Palaces are polished so 
 highly, that it is exceedingly fatiguing to walk over them, and it is 
 always with a feeling of relief that I receive the summons to leave- 
 After a visit to the Bank, lunch and a little shopping in the Galeria 
 Vittorio Emanuele, we started out again for the Brera. My favorites 
 among the numerous paintings here Avere : Christ sinking beneath His 
 Cross by Daniele Crespi; St. Cecilia after Carlo Dolce, an exquisitely 
 tender, pathetic face; the Last Supper by Rubens, the same by Daniele 
 Crespi, Avhich in some respects is more natural and beautiful than 
 Leonarda's ; the Virgin standing on the serpent and crescent by Sasso- 
 ferrato ; Paul the Hermit by Salvator Rosa; Sts. Peter and Paul by 
 Guido, both gray-haired men with unquenchable spirit and piercing 
 eyes; Titian's St. Jerome; the Marriage in Cana by Paul Veronese 
 and several early works by Bartolommeo. One small room is devoted 
 to Raphael's Marriage of St. Joseph and the Virgin. It is so sweet and 
 lovely and natural, that one loves to sit before it undisturbed. Mary 
 is a youthful blonde, timid, gentle and lovable. The figures of Joseph, 
 priests and scribes in the background serve only as a foil to this sweet, 
 young creature. We were obliged to hurry off to see the Last Supper, 
 as the building is closed at an early hour. It is in the refectory of a 
 Dominican Convent attached to the church of Santa Maria della Grazie. 
 The long, narrow, brick paved room has been subjected to much ill 
 usage, anil is now a most desolate abode. The great painting is more 
 defaced than any we have seen. Still, one must be very blind not to be 
 able to see the thoroughly ideal conception, the perfect execution and 
 the sublime treatment of this work of genius. Mrs. Jameson's de- 
 scription of it is almost as beautiful as the painting itself, and I can 
 only recommend all to read it, if they Avish to enjoy the picture either 
 
MY JOURNAL IX FOREIGN LAX OS. 61 
 
 in prospect or retrospect. The faces of the Saviour and St. John are 
 more than the most captions critic conld demand. Indeed, anyone 
 who expresses disappointment in the great paintings only publishes his 
 own inability to appreciate them. We finished our sight-seeing in 
 Milan witli a very charming drive. At one end of the city is the Tri- 
 umphal Arch, which marks the termination of the great road across 
 the Simplon. There are three magnificent gate-ways, and the Arch 
 itself is of white marble ornamented with statues and reliefs, while on 
 the top is a bronze figure of Peace in a car drawn by four horses, and 
 at each angle are figures of Fame. In the Piazza del Dnomo e della 
 Scala there is a fine statue of Leonarda da Vinci in white marble, and 
 below this towering figure stand artists, designers, sculptors, all look- 
 ing up to their acknowledged Superior. 
 
 Baveno, Italy, June 18th. — We have just reached this lovely, little 
 resting-place, having left the land of railways and worldliness far be- 
 hind us. Looking out on Lake Maggiore and the Simplon, the view is 
 full of variety and diversity. Far away in the openings made by the 
 overlapping cliffs of Italy rise the snowy peaks of the Swiss Alps. 
 Catching the reflection of the morning sun, while all below is shrouded 
 in mists and clouds, they look like a vision of another world. The 
 Hotel Bellevue is one of real elegance and comfort, and it is with de- 
 light that I hail the opportunity to rest and digest some of the many 
 new ideas and impressions gained in the past few weeks. Mr. Daziano 
 has just received a telegram from Dr. PL, announcing his safe arrival 
 in Napoli, and the good news that Miss L. is still living. On Friday 
 last Ave left Milan, rode in the cars to Como, and there took the steamer 
 and sailed down Lake Como. It is so perfectly beautiful, that words 
 seem useless in attempting to give an idea of it. The exquisite ver- 
 dure of the Italian Alps, the little picture-book houses dotted here and 
 there at their feet, the silvery threads of the tiny cascades as they 
 trickle from the very summit of the mountains and fall with a " song- 
 burst "into the placid Lake, the abrupt turnings and shapes of the 
 giant hills — I could only ask myself, " Can anything be lovelier than 
 this?" We had quite a rain during 0111* ride, but enough sunshine to 
 enjoy the views, and it is lovely to watch the clouds play among tha 
 mountains. On reaching Cadenabbiawe found Ihe Hotel more crowded 
 than any we have stopped at. The visitors seemed nearly all Scotch 
 and English people, and they are certainly the most ungainly, homely 
 people the sun shines on. After a delicious table-d' Hote, while wan- 
 dering around, reading papers and watching the interesting people, the 
 news of Miss L.'s extreme illness was announced. Of course all felt 
 much depressed, and after writing and talking over Dr. H.'s departure, 
 dispersed for the night. Next morning we took a charming drive over 
 the mountains to Porlezza, our good friend, Mr. J., occupying a car- 
 
62 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 riage with us three sisters, and adding greatly to the pleasure of the 
 drive. On arriving, we took the steamer and sailed down Lake Lugano, 
 very picturesque and romantic, but not as lovely as Como. Another 
 tine mountain ride brought us to Varese and the Ducal Palace, now 
 denominated the Grand Hotel. From our rooms we could look out on 
 Lake Varese and the lovely grounds around our palatial residence. On 
 Sunday we attended the English church within the grounds, and heard 
 a sweet sermon from the text : " Come unto Me and I will give you 
 rest." A heavy rain in the afternoon and a cold prevented me from 
 attending service, but my sisters went and recpiested the prayers of the 
 congregation for Miss L., which were duly offered ; but we discovered 
 that the English have not our beautiful prayer " for a sick person, '' 
 but simply use an additional clause in the prayer, " for all sorts and 
 conditions of men. " This morning after the rain, the view of Mont 
 Blanc, Monte Rosa and Mont Cenis was magnificent, but we were hur- 
 ried off abruptly for our present destination. 
 
 On Tuesday Ave made an excursion to the Isles of Bosomeo, in lit- 
 tle row-boats, disembarking at the Issola Bella, for generations the 
 palatial residence of the Princes of Bonomeo, the entire island being 
 devoted to the one palace and surrounding grounds. It is very inter- 
 esting. Napoleon slept here the night before Marengo, and we saw the 
 bed which he occupied. There are numerous paintings, but few fine 
 ones; some pretty Roman mosaic tables, &c. The basement is curi- 
 ously arranged as a grotto, ceilings, walls and floors being composed of 
 small disjointed pebbles, white, grey and black. The different cham- 
 bers are adorned with statues in white marble. Some of them hideous, 
 and only one, of a woman lying prone, pretty. The surrounding garden 
 is charming. Here with the snowy mountain peaks all around, grow 
 splendid tropical plants and the vegetation of all countries. We saw 
 the Tea tree, the Camphor, Cork, Aloes, Magnolia, beautiful Pines, 
 Rhododendrons, &c. The air is laden with the sweet odor of the Orange 
 and Lemon blossoms. We also visited the Issola Madre and walked 
 through the Jardin, which is equally lovely and refreshing. On Wed- 
 nesday we rose at 4.30 A. M. and sailed in the steamboat on Lake 
 Maggiore for four hours, having breakfast on the upper deck, and 
 passing thus into Switzerland. The scenery was glorious throughout. 
 At Locarno we took the train and went through the St. Gotthard Tun- 
 nel which winds around the interior of the mountain just as the car- 
 riage road on the outside, so that each time the train emerges the road 
 can be seen below. The cascades all along the road on each side are 
 exquisite and the scenery gets wilder and wilder until Goschenen is 
 reached. 
 
 At the foot of the Rhone Glacier — In the Alps. 
 
 Thursday, June 21st. — Yesterday at 2 p. m. we took the Diligence 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 63 
 
 at Goschenen to cross the Furca Pass. The scenery here from the very 
 start is so wild and magnificent that it is utterly out of the question to 
 attempt a description. Certainly no one who has seen it can ever 
 forget it. The carriage road, barely wide enough for two vehicles to 
 pass each other, rises in turns so sharp as to be angular, -and one road 
 rises above another so that they form tiers of roads, which is entirely 
 unlike.what I expected it to be. In the gorges lie immense boulders 
 and the sides of the mountains show the gigantic slabs cut sharply, as 
 if by a chisel. The cascades dash and rush and roar with frightful 
 impetuosity from the clefts of the rocks. We ladies, happening to get 
 inside the Diligence, resolved after awhile to get out and walk. But 
 the difficulty of stopping these great lumbering vehicles (for bf course 
 if one stops, all must,) makes this a serious matter, and after dismount- 
 ing we had to run to keep up, the ascent now making itself much more 
 perceptible. It is bewildering; the precipice seems so near and the 
 overhanging cliffs so merciless. We had not resumed our seats long 
 when we reached the Devil's Bridge, the scene of Snwarrow's awful 
 victory and one of the most terrific spectacles earth affords. The 
 chasm here is very wide and the cataract is maddening and deafening, 
 though gloriously beautiful. The Bridge is certainly the most splendid 
 specimen of mortal skill that I have ever seen. After riding through a 
 tunnel cutout of the living rock we passed through Andermatt, Hos- 
 penthal and the Realp, villages of wterd and mournful aspect, so 
 strange does it seem that anyone should be content to live in these 
 awful solitudes. After leaving these, we pushed on our way, winding 
 up our spiral road. Finally, in the midst of fields of snow, where the 
 air is very rarefied and the temperature intensely cold, we dismounted 
 and the horses and vehicles were changed. Here we were told that the 
 path had only been cut through the mountains of snow three days ago, 
 and that we were the first tourists to go over it Not beginning to 
 realize the danger, (such is the courage of ignorance,) we started off 
 quite buoyantly. We soon entered between the walls of snow, and the 
 horses pulled and plodded on heavily and with great difficulty. In the 
 openings we saw only peak after peak covered with snow and as we 
 ascended higher and still higher and ever upward, the impression pro- 
 duced by the interminable and awfully monotonous vista was terrible. 
 At last we reached the summit of the Furcahorn and began to descend. 
 We imagined now we were all right. But we had really now entered 
 on the most formidable part of our undertaking, the descent being- 
 much more trying for the horses, and the ruts in the snow making the 
 diligences rise, fall and shake terribly. At one place ours would not 
 move, and our driver and guard getting out and climbing the snow 
 banks, stood there and shook it out of the rut. But alas! the last 
 carriage fell in, the wheel gave way, and its occupants were obliged to 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 disband it. Mr. W. who was riding with us seemed thoroughly 
 alarmed and resolved to walk the rest of the distance, while Mr. M- 
 and .Mr. D. managed to find seats in the other two carriages. We had 
 not gone very far before one of our horses lost his footing and turned 
 towards the edge of the precipice. It was a horrible moment, for one 
 more false step and we would all have been rolling down the side of 
 the mountain. During the whole of the rest of the way we faced a 
 violent death. The solid wall of snow on either side rendered it an 
 absolute impossibility for us who were inside to get out; and as it 
 grated against the carriage we realized that a lurch might have brought 
 an avalanche down on us, while when we emerged in the clearings there 
 was the precipice. We reached this Hotel at 10.30 P. M. shivering with 
 cold -and fright, and at the tea-table Mr. Daziano said ''You must 
 thank God for your lives to-night." Ob, that all the "perilous sweet- 
 ness " of life may henceforth be shadowed by a holy fear! This morn- 
 ing we walked to the foot of the Rhone Glacier through great tracts of 
 snow and the scattered stones and rocks. On arriving, we did not 
 seem any nearer than when starting, so immense are all the proportions 
 around. It looks like rough, crumbling marble, faintly tinted, and 
 more like snow than ice. On the way Ave went through the Ice Grotto, 
 which is exceedingly beautiful, consisting of numerous chambers of 
 solid ice and all reflecting an exquisite light-blue tint; but this pains 
 the eyes after a few moments and we were glad to retrace our steps. 
 
 Geneva, June 26th,— We had a long and romantic ride from the 
 Rhone Glacier to Brieg last Thursday afternoon. The Rhone valley, 
 with its pastures, forests and homes, is very lovely, after the bleak and 
 barren mountains. Next morning a short, railway ride brought us to 
 Martigny, and, finding that it was impossible to get on to Chamoun'ix, 
 Ave took a carriage and went to see the Sallenche Fall and the Gorge of 
 the Trient. The former is very beautiful, descending from an immense 
 height in an unbroken column of pearls and diamonds against the em- 
 erald back-ground of the mountain. The latter is full of interest, be- 
 ing a very narroAv opening in the rocks, which show in their contour 
 just how they Avere torn asunder. The tiny gallery which serves as a 
 passage on one side of the mountain almost spans the roaring cataract 
 below, Avhich is sixty feet deep. In one place the overhanging rock 
 shut out the sky; this is called the dome of the church. Saturday was 
 a gloriously beautiful day. almost perfectly cloudless. We started out 
 at 7.30 a. m. for the Tete Noir, winding higher and higher up the 
 mountain amid scenes of indescribable loveliness and grandeur, ravish- 
 ing views of the Rhone Valley ever Avidening as Ave ascended, bounded 
 on all sides by the green hills and the sharply defined peaks. Some of 
 our party thought this more dangerous than our journey over the 
 Furca Pass, as the road had been Avashed by severe rains and was at the 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 65 
 
 same time frightfully narrow. Our guide made us all leave the car- 
 riages several times to accommodate the horses, and he himself walked 
 nearly all the way. At the half-way station, on the summit, we saw 
 ever so many grand, St. Bernard dogs, one of which had saved five 
 lives. The first vieAV of Mont Blanc was magnificent, consisting of the 
 snowy crest between two mountains covered with timber to their sum- 
 mit. Then we saw Montanvert and the wondrous Mer-de-Glace — not 
 the surface, but the edge and falling glacier. Chamounix was not as 
 large a place as I expected to find, and I was impressed by the passivity 
 of the inhabitants, and the fact that the very existence of the town is 
 dependent on travelers. It reminded me that no great names in the 
 annals of the world are connected with these overpowering scenes in 
 uature, such as Niagara and Mont Blanc. They crush the spirit. 
 Such overwhelming might and majesty have nothing in common with 
 man. The snow-covered range here does not appear as lofty as the bare 
 peaks, and seems so near that it is quite impossible to realize its height; 
 one feels more or less provoked at this. But when we were out walk- 
 ing at night, while day-light lingered far above as we walked in dark- 
 ness, a scintillating star hung right over the white summit, and I 
 could not but wonder, as awed by the ravishing beauty of the scene, 
 what can be the beauty that God has prepared for us when even this 
 cannot give a conception of it! Surely no one can look on it and not 
 feel " This is a foretaste of Heaven. " On Sunday we attended the lit- 
 tle English church twice, and enjoyed an exquisite sun-set, the rosy 
 glow on the snow giving a new idea of the possibilities of color. Yes- 
 terday we rode in what I call the grandest circus-wagon for fifty miles, 
 starting at 7.15 a. m., and arriving here at 3.30 p. m. Far above the 
 ground, for we ascended a ladder to reach our seats in the Diligence? 
 we seemed to roll without effort of any kind over the beautifully wind- 
 ing road leading through the most romantic part of Savoy. It was 
 with rapture that I turned from the awful solitudes of the mountains 
 and found myself in a city once more. This is a very fascinating place* 
 splendidly laid out and altogether modern. This morning we took a 
 drive and entered a gorgeous Greek church, like a Pagoda externally, 
 surmounted by numerous, gilded, cone-like protuberances, and inter- 
 nally certainly the most peculiar thing of the kind I have ever seen. 
 Very richly and profusely decorated, the architecture reminds one of 
 the entrance hall of a palatial, modern hotel, for it is carpeted like a 
 parlor, and there are plain chairs and stools around the walls. The 
 altar of white marble contains a middle door, two side doors and two 
 panels in gilt, enclosing exquisite frescoes, a full length of the Saviour 
 and Virgin, soft, rich and lovely. At one end of the church there is 
 one of the loveliest Annunciations I have seen yet. Behind the altar, 
 we were told, none but the priests go ; the church proper seems very 
 
6C MY JOURNAL IX FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 small, but can accommodate two hundred, as the people always stand. 
 We then went to the Cathedral of St. Pierre — Calvin's church — and 
 the first Protestant Cathedral we have entered on the Continent. It is 
 very ancient looking, and terribly severe in its Protestant simplicity. 
 The stained glass of the oldest part (eleventh century) is worn and 
 faded. We all sat in Calvin's chair, and I do not know that I have 
 experienced any more thrilling sensations than here, for Calvin's whola 
 history is shrouded in an awful gloom to me. I feel that he suffered 
 the throes and travail pains for generations of our race. To compre- 
 hend his individuality is still as inaccessible to most men as would be 
 their translation into gods. A visit to the Musical Box manufactory 
 proved very diverting. Everything seemed to be converted into a -me- 
 dium for music; Venetian glass pitchers, bottles, porcelain dishes, etc; 
 ink-stands, work-boxes, all exquisite, and a real chef d' ceuvre in the 
 form of a bisque harp in softest pink and blue played by a cherub. 
 After shopping and looking around we returned, having seen Eous- 
 seau's Statue on the island consecrated solely to this, and the Duke of 
 Brunswick's Monument, which is very handsome, and an exact imita- 
 tion of the Scaliger monuments in Verona. 
 
 Interlaken, Switzerland, June 29th. — On Wednesday morning 
 we started out on Lake Leman under the fairest auspices, the sun just 
 shrouded by the faintest haze, giving to the landscape an additional 
 charm, and exciting the imagination by all lovely suggestions. The 
 water was tranquility itself; we could say with Byron: 
 
 "Clear, placid Leman, thy contrasted lake 
 With the wild world 1 dwelt in, is a thing 
 Which warns me with its stillness to forsake 
 Earth's troubled waters lor a purer spring'." 
 
 On the boat two very agreeable English people fell into conversation 
 with me, Mrs. Guthrie and her son from Liverpool. It was difficult to 
 comprehend how they could be mother and son, for they both looked 
 equally old, — middle-aged — and enough alike to be twins. I found 
 them very intelligent and pleasant. Passing Coppet, Clarens, Veray 
 and Lausanne, all so full of literary associations and exquisitely situ- 
 ated, we wended our way to the grand old Castle of Chillon, the most 
 picturesque and romantic spot on the Lake. From the steamboat we 
 took a little row-boat and landed at its very feet. Descending into the 
 Prison we saw the cell of the condemned, and where they were exe- 
 cuted, the under-ground chapel, and. most interesting of all, the pillar 
 and iron ring to which Bonivard was chained, and the name of Byron 
 written on the pillar, which he himself has invested with so much of 
 its interest. We also saw the chapel of the Duke of Savoy, his bed 
 chamber, and that of the Duchess, the hole into which those who were 
 tortured were thrown and forgotten, and other rooms. Some of the 
 party brought away pretty, little boxes and pictures as mementoes, and 
 others the wild flowers that clung to the rugged walls. The returning 
 
My journal in foreign lands. 67 
 
 boat brought us back to Lausanne, where we spent the night at a very 
 elegant Hotel, and saw the sun-set on Lake Geneva, which looked like 
 spun glass of the loveliest, silken texture. Of course, we saAv the house 
 in which Gibbon finished his great History and gave way to melancholy 
 reflections. Yesterday we traveled from Lausanne to Fribourg, and 
 there stopped long enough to see the famed suspension Bridges, and 
 hear the organ, which is the finest in the world. The bridges bound 
 lightly and gracefully from side to side of the picturesque Saarine, one 
 of thein one hundred and seventy-five feet and the other nearly three 
 hundred feet above the stream and gorge beJow. All the life and scen- 
 ery around present such a novel aspect that the traveler is fascinated 
 and spell-bound. The Cathedral containing the organ is a fine speci- 
 men of the Gothic style of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, 
 though additions and restorations are very evident. It contains one or 
 two good pictures. The recital was certainly magnificent, bringing 
 out the powers of the instrument from the '' thunder of many waters" 
 to the lowest, softest cradle-song. Walking through the town we 
 passed a fine, old lime tree, which is said to have been planted in 1476, 
 on the day of the battle of Morat. Another short ride brought us to 
 Berne, and we took a carriage and went to see the bears and city sights. 
 There are five of the former, some immense and very savage ; they seem 
 to afford an endless diversion to the people. The town is beautifully 
 situated, and all the country around lovely. We had a good view of 
 the Jungfrau in all its glory. The Government Building,' the Cathe- 
 dral, Clock Tower and old statues at the fountains in the midst of the 
 streets, with the ancient arcades and old-fashioned houses go to make 
 up quite an interesting place. This morning after a short railway ride 
 we bo.irded a steamer on the Lake of Thun and had a most charming sail, 
 with the Stockhorn, Niesen and Jungfrau hounding the view, lovely 
 chalets lining the shores, and the water itself too beautiful to be de- 
 scri bed. 
 
 .JSTeuhausen, Friday, July 6th. — The week just passed has been as 
 delightful as it was eventful. On Saturday we made an excursion to 
 the Grindelwald — ■ not on my part to see the glaciers, for after the 
 Rhone experience I took a vow never to walk to the foot of another 
 glacier, but to see and revel in the surrounding scenery. The ride of 
 three hours from Interlaken here is along the torrent of the Lutschine, 
 with a magnificent view of the Wetterhorn covered with eternal snow, 
 glimpses of the Jungfrau, the Mettenberg and the Eigher, and imme- 
 diately between lofty and rugged mountains, down whose sides cas- 
 cades of every size and variety stream and blow like snow-drifts. The 
 air is so invigorating, that one is forced to rejoice in the boon of physi- 
 cal existence. There is a nice Hotel at the village, and while all the 
 others went off and had the most romantic adventures, I sat in and 
 
68 MY JOURNAL IN" FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 walked around the grounds, and saw one of the glaciers just as well as 
 they did, and enjoyed the views much more . We returned to Inter - 
 laken by sun-down, and on Sunday attended church in an ancient 
 Monastery, within whose wide embrace there is an English, a Catholic, 
 a Scotch Presbyterian and a French Protestant church ; and very mil- 
 lennial did it seem to see all the people wending their way hither on 
 that fairest of Sabbath mornings. I can only hope all the others were 
 as much benefited as ourselves, for we heard a very fine and helpful 
 sermon on prayer. On Monday we made another excursion to Lauter- 
 brunnen, the ride for a portion of the distance being the same as that 
 to the Grindelwald. The fall of the Staubach here is a wonderful 
 sight. The feathery spray is lightly tossed over the summit of a moun- 
 tain rising nine hundred feet from the road here. Byron calls it the 
 " tail of the pale courser in the Apocalype, " and this simile is perfect. 
 After enjoying this to our heart's content for the time, we returned to 
 Interlaken, took the train and rode in the upper story of these queer, 
 Swiss cars, which one reaches by a spiral stair-case, and from which 
 the scenery is much more enjoyable. After a short ride we took the 
 steamboat, sailed across Lake Brienz and alighted at Giessbach. The 
 ascent to the magnificent, new Hotel here is made in the Chemin de 
 fer funiculaire, over a road which seems too perpendicular to permit 
 anything of the kind. It is a very novel and charming method of 
 traveling up a mountain. The six cascades rush down the mountain 
 directly in front of the Hotel, while from two other sides one looks 
 down on Lake Brienz, the pine and laurel forests cutting off the east- 
 ern view. At night the Palls were illuminated, but, with the excep- 
 tion of the moon-light illumination, I thought this decidedly detracted 
 from their beauty. After this, everyone was summoned in -doors to en- 
 joy a chamber concert. There were about six stringed instruments, 
 the performers Germans, and the first violin a real virtuoso, so that I do 
 not know when I have enjoyed anything so much. Next morning we 
 sailed over to Brienz, and there took Diligences to cross the Brunig 
 Pass. The day was perfect, the road wide and splendidly smooth, and the 
 scenery, though not as striking as that we have hitherto enjoyed, still 
 lovely. The Lakes Lungern, Brienz and Sarnen succeeded each other 
 so rapidly that we were scarcely any time at all deprived of water scen- 
 ery. While on the summit of the Pass we unexpectedly met acquaint- 
 ances with whom Ave had traveled in Southern Italy, coming across in 
 the opposite direction. Of course, there was a great deal of talking 
 and laughing for a few moments, while all the vehicles stopped and al- 
 lowed us to exchange greetings. Finally we reached Alpnacht, at the 
 foot of Mont Pilate, and there took the steamboat and sailed on the 
 Lake of Four Cantons, universally acknowledged to be the most beau- 
 tiful in Switzerland. This reputation is due to the surrounding seen- 
 
MY JOURNAL IK FOREIGN LANDS. 69 
 
 ery, for the water itself is less beautiful than that of any of the Lakes 
 Ave have seen. Lucerne — the ohjective point of our sail — is the most 
 highly favored of all the Swiss towns, and it is impossible to imagine a 
 more thoroughly picturesque and perfect spot. On one side of the 
 Lake rises Mount Pilatus, on the other the Rhigi, both standing boldly 
 out of a range of hills green to the very top; while encircling them 
 behind, and filling in the opening in front, extends the whole chain of 
 the snow-crowned Bernese Oberland. A series of palatial hotels fronts 
 this scene, and the variety meeting the eye from every point of view is 
 inexhaustible. In the evening we took a walk along the broad avenue 
 of the Quai, and saw people from all parts of the world. In such a 
 scene one is entirely carried out of self, and it is really difficult to re- 
 call cares and responsibilities. The open-air concerts, the throngs of 
 people, the lights, the cafes, the influences of night, the water, the 
 dark mountains, the starry sky, all combine to bewilder and distract 
 one. In the morning we visited the chief object of interest here — 
 the Garden containing the colossal Lion. It is sculptured out of the 
 living rock in alto-relievo, and is a thousand times more impressive 
 than the usual style of monument. Executed to commemorate the 
 noble fidelity of the Swiss Guard who refused to abandon Louis XVI. 
 and Marie Antoinette at the opening of the French Revolution, it rep- 
 resents the dying agony of the King of beasts, still striving to protect 
 the shield of France as he struggles with his mortal throes. There is 
 nothing common-place around; all is wild, secluded, cut off from the 
 world. We walked through one of the three curious, old bridges over 
 the Reuss, in the rafters of which are set triangular paintings, repre- 
 senting incidents in the lives of Saints, the History of Schwytz, &c, all 
 being from three hundred to four hundred years old. In the afternoon 
 we sailed on Lake Lucern to t^ce-FIuelen, and enjoyed the ruined Cas- 
 tles and the reminders of Tell. We saw the field in which the immor- 
 tal patriots met in 1307 to plan the liberation of their country ; and 
 Tell's chapel built on the ledge of rock on which Tell landed when he 
 escaped Gessler in the Providential storm. After we left Fluelen, the 
 sky grew black with clouds, and all were forced to go below, while the 
 rain poured in torrents, and the clouds hid every mountain from sight. 
 In this plight we landed at Vitznau, and made the ascent of the Rigi. 
 The car is very much like that at Giessbach, and none of us felt the 
 least timidity, though the hail and thunder vied with the sparks from 
 the engine, and the unnatural mode of ascent to produce all the alarm 
 they could. Of course, the ride is much longer than that at Giessbach, 
 but we soon seemed to get above the clouds and look down into the 
 unfathomable ravines, and after stopping at several stations we arrived 
 at the Kulm. It was very cold, indeed, and, as it was rather early in 
 the season, I expected to see only a few, shivering mortals at the din- 
 
tO MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 ner-table at 8 o'clock. What was my surprise to find at least one hun- 
 dred and fifty persons, and with physiognomies indicating the various 
 soils they had traversed ere arriving here. German students seemed to 
 predominate, and among the long rows of men a lady appeared only 
 now and then. Retiring with mingled hopes and fears as to the prob- 
 ability of sun-rise, we were all wakened just as the faint streak of the 
 gray dawn came to dissipate the dense gloom of night by the cracked 
 voice of the Alpine horn. Such shuffling, tramping and hurrying as 
 we heard overhead, while we ourselves fought to complete our toilet in 
 time ! The Hotel, of course, is not on the highest point, and there is a 
 steep walk yet to make. The people wrapped in shawls, veils and 
 worsted things, shivering with cold, and only half-awake presented a 
 very comical appearance, but Ave only had a few minutes to wait before 
 the sun — a great, fiery ball — rose slowly and majestically from be- 
 hind the mountains on our right. There were still some of the clouds 
 of last night's storm, and the sun at this time could shed no light on 
 the immense valley below ; the seven lakes, the towns, villages and 
 hills were wrapped in the mize of dawn, while the Bernese Alps were 
 cold and dull. So after another nap and breakfast we went up again 
 and found this experience a thousand times more satisfying. It is said 
 to be the grandest view in the world. At this hour everything was 
 flooded by the sun, now shining in its strength. The houses, churches, 
 towers, &c, of the pretty towns skirting the shores of the Lakes, the 
 beautiful, blue waters themselves, reflecting all the loveliness around, 
 the meadows and cultivated fields lying in and out, the Mount Pilatus 
 range and the dark cliffs beyond constitute one view ; and on turning 
 around, the innumerable peaks of snow, with their azure-hued shad- 
 ows, flash and sparkle under this ardent sunshine until they almost 
 seem to possess life, and glory in their unrivalled grandeur. We had 
 a lovely ride down the mountain, and, after lunch at Lucerne, took the 
 train for Zurich, and spent the night there. This morning we came on 
 to Schaffhausen, and then drove up here to a lovely Hotel directly in 
 front of the great Falls of the Rhine, the grandest in Europe. They 
 are not wonderful to those Avho have seen Niagara, but all around is so 
 exquisite that one feels fully compensated for coming. From my room 
 window there is an extensive view of the Rhine winding along through 
 beautiful fields of golden grain, the mountains beyond, the town and 
 country houses scattered here and there, the pure white cataract falling 
 into water of the loveliest, apple-green color imaginable. The coloring 
 is so rich and deep, that it looks more like an Italian than a Swiss 
 landscape. 
 
 Baden-Baden, Germany, July 9th. — On Saturday Ave went on to 
 Strassburg, stopping at a railway station for our dinner, and having 
 several memorable experiences, arriving at S. at about 6.30 o'clock. 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 71 
 
 Nothing lias filled me with more astonishment and delight than this 
 wonderful Cathedral. The one spire, that will probably always stand 
 without the companion meant for it, has long been the highest in the 
 world, and the entire front is so richly and magnificently sculptured, 
 that one's breath is taken away. The arches of the three Gothic doors 
 are covered with figures of every description, though chiefly those of 
 ecclesiastics and monks, cut out of the solid stone, each having an in- 
 dividuality of its own. The color of the whole is a reddish brown, and 
 it is so substantial, that it looks as if it might have been built in our 
 own age. But the interior is, if anything, still more beautiful. The 
 clustered pillars, like those of Milan, are adorned with statues, but these 
 are more numerous and striking here than elsewhere. The most inter- 
 esting are portrait statues of Erwin von Steinbach and his daughter, 
 Sabina, the great names identified with this mighty structure. The sun 
 was setting when we entered, and it was the hour for Confession. The 
 golden light streamed through the glorious and immense stained-glass 
 windows, while the few figures kneeling in the great nave were as 
 motionless as the statues overhead, and the stately altar shrouded in 
 twilight, with glimpses of the chapels railed off from the scrutiny of vis- 
 itors rendered the tout ensemble as impressive as the most devout Cath- 
 olic could desire. We saw the curious Astronomical Clock, and heard it 
 strike the hour of 7, but I greatly preferred wandering through the 
 Cathedral to an examination of this curiosity. It was a surprise, how- 
 ever, to find that it was in the interior of the church, and that its 
 width is about as great as half its height. We drove all around Strass- 
 burg, saw the new University, which is going to be the largest in the 
 world ; the new railway Depot, a marble building like a Greek Temple; 
 the old, blackened houses with sloping roofs filled with windows ; the 
 storks standing on one leg on the chimney tops, where they make their 
 nests and live; the streets and buildings ruined by the Franco-Prussian 
 war, and the gigantic fortifications, which enabled this doubly en- 
 thralled city to withstand her enemies so nobly. We did not reach 
 Baden-Baden until mid-night. Yesterday being Sunday we attended 
 the English church twice, in the morning hearing an original discourse 
 from the text: " And they called Barnabas, Jupiter; and Paul, Mer- 
 cury, because he was the chief speaker;" and at night a more helpful 
 and practical sermon from a venerable minister who spoke without 
 notes and fluently on St. Paul's argument, beginning: "Shall we con- 
 tinue in sin that grace may abound ?" In our ride, night before last, 
 and in walking to and from church, I have seen all I wish to see of 
 this place, so penetrated and interpenetrated with pleasure-seeking 
 and worldliness. The gambling has been suppressed for some time } 
 but I suppose it will always be the resort of idlers and pleasure seek- 
 ers, and I do not wish to be identified with them even for a moment. 
 
72 MY JOURNAL IN" FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 Heidelberg, July 10th. — As soon as we arrived here yesterday, we 
 drove to the beautiful old Castle, winding up the hill by a broad, fine 
 road, reminding us of the lower Alpine Passes. This grand remnant 
 of the Middle Ages, enables one to revive the days of feudal splendor; 
 and one can easily imagine the princely warriors coming and going, 
 fierce, rough and untamable, while the ladies of the household lived like 
 Nuns, scarcely knowing that there was a world beyond their own pre- 
 cincts. Here entire facades still stand, without back-ground or walls, 
 splendidly adorned with statues of knights, crusaders, &c; Charlemagne 
 figuring in their midst, while the many courts, halls, towers and chap- 
 els show that this is a collection of palaces rather than a single castle. 
 One series of apartments is called the English Palace, as it was built 
 for Elizabeth, the daughter of James I., upon her marriage with the 
 King of Bohemia. We were shown the raised platform on which a 
 whole ox was roasted in those days of Bacchanalian revelry, and the 
 enormous wine cask, capable of holding 50,000 gallons, on the top of 
 which there is now a platform, reached by quite a stairway. All this 
 makes one devoutly thankful that this chapter in the world's history 
 is closed forever. The gardens and terrace are the most charming por- 
 tions of this ruin. Here one looks over the winding Neckar, the beauti- 
 ful city lining its banks and climbing up the wooded heights, and the 
 one or two fine residences towering above the humbler dwellings and 
 occupying such picturesque sites as only those of artistic temperament 
 know how to choose. It is very interesting to note the havoc made in 
 these impregnable-looking battlements by the shells of the enemy at 
 different times. Enormous blocks of stone lie scattered here and there, 
 while the largest of all is poised in the air — apparently — for, in look- 
 ing over the precipice, it is impossible to see how the huge mass has 
 kept its place or to what it is attached. Heidelberg is filled with stu- 
 dents, whose faces are scarred by the sword cuts gained in the mock 
 duels, for which this University is so famous. There are a number of 
 beautiful churches here, and it is altogether an extremely attractive 
 place. 
 
 Munich, Wednesday, July 11th. — This has been a faultlessly 
 beautiful day — like the early June days Ave have at home, and not even 
 suggestive of summer heat. We have had a grand spell of sight-see- 
 ing, bringing back with fresh force memories of the charming days Ave 
 spent in Italy. After a short walk we took carriages and drove to the 
 Uuhmcshalle, in the Theresenwiese. This is a Portico a la Grec, look- 
 ing, in fact, like an ancient temple. The arcade contains busts of 
 celebrated Bavarians, but the object of interest is the colossal statue 
 personifying Bavaria itself, for which this grand building serves as a 
 back-ground. The statue is that of a glorious woman, in her left hand 
 lifting a chaplet above her head and in her right hand grasping a 
 
; 
 
 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 73 
 
 sword. She is clothed in ;i fur tunic, and at her side is a lion. En 
 passant, is it not enough to make one a cynic to find that Glory must 
 always he represented hy a woman, when, de facto, the representation 
 is never reciprocated ? I cannot but think this irony in allegory will 
 be righted one of these days. At all events, all men find a peculiar 
 charm in this representation, and no artist could be persuaded to aban- 
 don it. The statue was modeled by Schwanthacer, Bavaria's greatest 
 sculptor, and cast by Miller from cannon captured in battle, and 
 chiefly from that taken from the Turks at Navarino. It seems that 
 Ludwig I. was another Napoleon, and has built up this magnificent 
 city to rival Paris in its grandeur. Indeed, in some respects it is hand- 
 somer than Paris. All the streets are spotlessly clean, neat and orderly, 
 and the public buildings and statues are dispersed regularly through- 
 out the city, while the people themselves are of a far higher grade of 
 civilization, and the whole aspect of the place is one of prosperity 
 and well being. We next visited the Residenz, or Royal Palace. It is 
 divided into three parts — the old and the new and the Festbau. In the 
 Imperial apartments we saw the Audience Hall, adorned with twelve 
 dark portraits of Roman emperors, by Titian; the bed-chamber in 
 which the curtains of gold brocade are valued at £80,000, and are, I 
 think, almost painfully ugly. The brocade is so extremely heavy and 
 the gilt so tarnished. The Mirror Room is quite curious — the 
 Avails are lined with mirrors and the sides of these ornamented 
 with little porcelain vases, pitchers, jugs, ike, producing the 
 effect of a child's play-house. The miniature room contains many 
 interesting little paintings all richly framed, but the crowd was so 
 great that it was impossible to examine them. In the Neue Residenz 
 we went through the Entrance Hall and the Halls of Marriage, Trea- 
 son, Vengeance and Lamentation, so called because they are frescoed by 
 Sclmorr with episodes from the Niebelungenlied. It is so long since I 
 have read or studied about this wierd old poem that I felt quite at sea 
 and could not enjoy the graphic and highly colored scenes, except as 
 the basis for future interest in the study. In the Festbau we enjoyed 
 the apartments decorated with scenes from the " Odyssey " by Hiltens- 
 berger. ■ The gallery of the Ball-room is supported by caryatides in col- 
 oring of light flesh tint and blue, so that they seem to be bisque and 
 produce a very pretty effect. The Hall of Charlemagne is splendidly 
 frescoed by Schnorr with events in the great Emperor's life. This is 
 indeed a realization of History. Here the lovely spiritual faces of the 
 monks and priests contrast boldly with the untamable warriors of the 
 Age and one marvels that order could ever have been brought out of 
 that awful moral chaos. There were panel pictures of Arno, Eginhard 
 Alcuin, all beautifully intellectual and interesting. In the Hall of 
 Frederic Barbarossa I enjoyed most the pictures of his arrival in Venice 
 
74 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 one 
 
 , of 
 
 and Milan, for the back grounds looked very familiar. The Thr 
 Hall is suberb, containing twelve colossal statues in bronze gilt of 
 Princes of the House of Wittelsbach ; a fine red velvet canopied throne 
 and a gorgeous gilded ceiling. From a window of the Palace I had a 
 good view of the equestrian statue of the Elector Maximillian I. by 
 Thorwalsden. We then made a pilgrimage to the Pin acothek, which 
 contains 1.300 paintings. In the entrance hall there are full length 
 portraits of Bavarian Sovereigns — Karl Theodore, Maximillian I. by 
 Stieler, Johann Wilhelm and Ludwig I. being interesting. In the 
 second Hall are ecclesiastical paintings of the Cologne School with gilt 
 background. In the third are paintings of the early part of the ] 6th 
 century, among the number a beautiful Nativity. In the fourth an 
 Albrecht Diner of a nude woman stabbing herself; many gorgeous 
 church pictures with a brilliancy of coloring unequaled, some of these 
 by A. Durer, Gnimwaldand Culmbach. In the fifth hall there are Rem- 
 brandts — Abraham sacrificing Isaac ; a Holy Family, and a fine Por- 
 trait. In the sixth the most remarkable picture was an immense one 
 representing a Company of Peasants at a Fair by Teniers; there were 
 also a Mother and Child surrounded by a wreath of brilliant flowers 
 by llubens, and several fine groups of animals, wild-boar hunts, &c, 
 by Snyders. The seventh hall of ninety-five paintings consists entirely 
 of the works of Rubens. The originality of these takes one's breath 
 away, and their boldness and strength strike the ordinary mind, as the 
 works of genius always do, with nothing but astonishment. After the 
 melting softness, the indescribable pathos and the profound emotional 
 element of I lie Italian works, these seem harsh, raw, unfinished; 
 but grandeur of conception cannot be denied them. Among the 
 finest were the Reconciliation of the Romans and Sabines (the sub- 
 ject a mere pretext for filling the canvas with beautiful blonde women 
 and Herculean men); Martyrdom of St. Laurence; Martyrdom of St. 
 John; the Crucifixion; a Picture of Hell ; a Portrait of the Artist 
 and his first Wife; tin:- Last Judgment (in which there are some splen- 
 did faces) a Nativity and most beautiful of all. the Descent of the 
 Holy Ghost. In the eighth hall there was a Martyrdom of St. Sebas- 
 tian by Rembrandt; many beautiful Cull-length portraits by the same. 
 In the ninth, wonderfully brilliant works by Ghirlandajo, a beautiful 
 John the Baptist, and Christ by Raphael, and an exquisite Holy Fam- 
 ily by Andrea del Sarto. In the tenth there were several good works 
 by Titian and Giorgione, and some truly beautiful New Testament 
 scenes by Perugino, between whom and Raphael there is a decided 
 resemblance. In the eleventh, almost the entire side of the long saloon 
 was covered with a magnificent Assumption by Cignani. The face of 
 the Virgin is so beautiful that one could never tire of gazing into its 
 mysterious depths ; the cherubs and all the figures are lovely. At the 
 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 75 
 
 end of the room is an Assumption by G-uiclo Reni which is still softer 
 and tenderer. There were paintings by almost every great artist in 
 this hall; a beautiful Eager and Ishmael by P. F. Mola; a striking 
 picture of a Roman Soldier adjusting the Crown of Thorns on the 
 Brow of Christ by G-nercino. In the twelfth hall were several scenes 
 of "Street Arabs" — wonderfully life-like, by Murillo; a St. Jerome by 
 Kibera. In the thirteenth were landscapes by Bourguignon, Ele Morine, 
 Claude Lorraine and Meulen. The fourteenth and fifteenth contained 
 exquisite copies of great works by Vander Werf. In the sixteenth 
 were several heads, landscapes and domestic scenes, by J. Vernet, 
 Ofreuze and Desportes. In the seventeenth there were four interesting 
 Venetian scenes, and a Magdalen and Madonna by Carlo Dolce — ex- 
 quisitely beautiful. We now began to be hurried through these smaller 
 halls at a terrible rate. In the eighteenth were several faded heads by 
 Raphael, and the ninteenth consisted of the School of Cimabue. Next 
 were two striking pictures of Picture Galleries by Teniers, and in the 
 following small chambers, up to the number of thirty-four, were very 
 interesting works by Ritysdael, Wouvermans, Brueghl, Vandyck, &c, 
 &c. Leaving this famous gallery, we betook ourselves to the Glypto- 
 thek. It is most splendidly situated. Approaching, as we did, in the 
 centre, stands a grand triumphal arch of the Doric order of architec- 
 ture; on the left the National Museum, of the Corinthian order; and 
 on the right the Glyptothek, of the Ionic. Neither of these buildings 
 contains any windows — they are lighted by cupolas ; and in the external 
 niches of the Glyptothek there are statues of Pericles, Phidias, Vul- 
 can, Prometheus, Adrian and Daedalus. In the pediment stands 
 Minerva, surrounded by sculptors. Within, the chief treasures are the 
 famous iEginetan marbles, from the Temple of Jupiter Panhellenius. 
 They are much more beautiful and better preserved than I expected to 
 11. id them. They are fully rounded figures, standing out on a narrow 
 platform, to be viewed from every side; a size smaller than life, but 
 perfect in proportions. The different attitudes afford room for every 
 variety of expression, and it is almost impossible not to believe in the 
 Trojan war if we believe that these works are what they claim to be. 
 And if these were the artistic productions of a pre-historic people, 
 there is certainly no such thing as a foundation for evolution in the 
 intellectual life of man — while the extinction of sculpture, as an art, 
 proves that the human form itself will never regain its pristine gran- 
 deur. There are other marvelous Greek works here, in which the sen- 
 suous element is wholly subordinated to the intellectual idea, and 
 Avhich makes one realize that the art of sculpture is the science of 
 Psychology in stone. The most beautiful of all was Ceres, clothed in 
 a flowing garment of black marble, bearing torch in hand and with a 
 crescent on her head, gliding about to seek her lost child. The ex- 
 
76 MY JOURNAL IX FOREIGN LAXDs. 
 
 pression of her face was one of great purity and tenderness. There 
 was a bronze Pomona, a Venus, a Mercury, a most exquisite Herma- 
 phrodite and two graceful athletes. I did not like the Apollo with the 
 harp. The Barberini Fawn, either by Scopas or Praxiteles, is a power- 
 ful creation ; and there are also two smaller fa#ns by Praxiteles. But 
 fawns are not favorites with me; I never could grasp the conception 
 of joy in pure animal existence for more than a moment at a time. 
 There are torsos of Niobe and her sons, and three halls of magnificent 
 frescoes from the Iliad. Briseis, the rosy-cheeked; Agamem- 
 non, king of men; Hector of the beamy crest; the little 
 Astyanax, and the tender Andromache; the aged Priam, the 
 devoted Patroclus, the wrathful Achilles and the false and fickle 
 Helen all appear in glowing colors and deathless glory. In the room 
 of Modern Sculpture are Canova's Paris, Thorwalsden's Adonis and a 
 Vesta copied from a Koman work. This trio in marble of such daz- 
 zling whiteness that it almost pains the eye, is one of the most beauti- 
 ful in Europe. It seems to me a great pity that the grandest works 
 cannot always be exhibited by twos or threes and not crowded together 
 to such an extent as to obliterate their individual merit. Leaving this 
 ever-memorable spot we alloAved ourselves to be persuaded into visiting 
 an International Art Exposition. It would have been amusing, if it 
 had not been so provoking. There were, however, a few fine works. 
 In the entrance hall there was a group in white marble of Hector, 
 Andromache and Astyanax so beautiful that for the first time in my 
 life the true meaning of the scene flashed on me. It represents the 
 famous parting which Charles Kjlfgsley makes Hypatia explain so elo- 
 quently; the symbolical meaning, being of course one that Homer 
 never dreamed of. Of the pictures here, the Fate of the Sons' of 
 Clovis, Dawn, Hagar and Ishmael were good. The American exhibit 
 was miserable. At the first suggestion I was ready to return to the 
 Hotel, having been on my feet from ten in the morning to five in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 In the Residenz we saw thirty-six Portraits of beautiful women of 
 Bavaria. But for these we certainly should never have imagined that 
 such a thing as a beautiful woman ever appeared in this region. But 
 these were charming; from the unknown working-girl to the Queens 
 and Princesses decked in pearls and royal ermine, there was not one 
 that did not feast the eyes. 
 
 Berlin, Wednesday, July 18th. — Leaving Munich at noon, we 
 hail a long and fatiguing ride to Nuremberg, arriving at about 8.30 P. 
 M. After a nice dinner we all walked out, and were completely car- 
 ried away with this quaint, picturesque place. The Avail around the 
 city is complete, and the old Castle of the Eleventh Century, with moat 
 fifty feet deep and the draw bridges, is one of the most interesting 
 
kY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 77 
 
 things we have seen. The old portion of the town bears the impress 
 of many years and vicissitudes ; and the twin steeples of its church and 
 quietude remind us not a little of our own sleepy little birth-place. 
 During our walk we were stopped by the sound of voices singing in 
 concert, and under the window we remained transfixed for some time, 
 listening to a choral class of men, in which one exquisite tenor soared 
 above all the rest in strains that I can never forget. Before we returned 
 we went in a Beer Garden for a few moments, and saw men, women 
 and children drinking "schooners" of beer, with a zest that cannot be 
 appreciated by an American. Next morning we made the tour : 
 first entering the famous, old church of St. Lawrence. It is 
 much blackened and very venerable ; the white carved Pix rising 
 from floor to ceiling is most curious, and the stained-glass win- 
 dows dating from the thirteenth to the present century, and 
 showing forth the whole story of the New Testament were among the 
 most beautiful of any that Ave have seen. The carving and sculptur- 
 ing on the exterior of St. Sebald's Church, some of it by Albrecht 
 Durer, is very fine, but we had not time to go in. Albrecht Durer's 
 house and his bronze statue in the square are the chief objects of inter- 
 est. The quaint and prettily sculptured fountains in the market- 
 place and other streets are very interesting. In St. Lawrence's here 
 and in the Friburg and other churches, in the midst of many artistic 
 and thoroughly ideal Avorks there are dreadful plaster figures — of 
 Christ, the Virgin and Saints, suspended in the nave of the church 
 and producing a ghastly effect. It is.very hard to understand this con- 
 tradiction ; indeed I don't know that anyone has undertaken to explain 
 it. The ride from Nureinburg to Dresden Avas very long, warm and 
 fatiguing, but Avhen Ave arrived at the Victoria Hotel there Avas such a 
 delicious tea spread out for us with pretty Dresden china, and sucli-an 
 interesting mail that in a few moments Ave forgot all about our fatigue. 
 Our first expedition in Dresden was to the celebrated Green Vault — a 
 series of apartments on the ground-floor, once hung with green tapes- 
 try. The first room contains statuettes in bronze, one of Diana and 
 Endymion being particularly fine. In the ivory room there Avas a cru- 
 cifix carved by Michael Angelo and several others, very beautiful. 
 Farther on there Avas an elegant chimney-piece, richly adorned with 
 marble sctilpturings and mosaics. The regalia was magnificent, there 
 being separate large cases of sapphires, rubies and diamonds. The 
 sword-hilts were peculiarly gorgeous. The Court of the Great Mogul in 
 miniature, in Avhich there Avere numerous figures and the whole of Avhich 
 is composed of precious stones is one of the chief curiosities. There 
 were so many, many little, tiny things twisted and screwed into eA r ery 
 possible form and worth such an immense amount of money that they 
 produced an irritating effect on me and I was glad to leave. The 
 
MY JOURNAL 
 
 Roytil Gallery of Paintings deserves its name. Here we saw Carlo 
 Dolce's St. Cecilia — a dreamy and thoroughly musical face; Titian's 
 Tribute Money ; the faces of Christ and the Pharisee in immediate 
 proximity startle and fascinate one, both are strange and novel ; Cor- 
 reggio's Magdalen and "Night" — one of the loveliest of all theNativ- 
 ities we have seen, in which the light that beams from the Holy Child 
 dazzles all save the young mother who gazes with rapture and adora- 
 tion into the face of the infant that she calls her own. There are 
 Italian Portraits by the Bellini brothers, Yen uses after the Venetian 
 School, the Garden of Love by Rubens, Portraits of Charles I., his 
 wife Henrietta Maria and his three children by Yandyck, a Portrait of 
 Rembrandt and his wife, a lovely copy of Raphael's St. Cecilia, stand- 
 ing among a group and looking upward for inspiration and re- 
 markable for an entire absence of self-consciousness; a Madonna by 
 Murillo and a number of Martyrs by Ribera. Batoni's Magda- 
 len with golden hair, snowy shoulders and flowing light blue 
 robe is an exceedingly attractive work. Guido's Christ crowned 
 with thorns (the head that through prints is probably more famil- 
 iar than any other Italian painting), though colorless, is one of the 
 most expressive idealizations in the whole realm of art. Shrined 
 in a little room apart is Holbein's wonderful Madonna. It, represents 
 the Virgin-mother holding in her arms a child whose sickness she has 
 cured, while the grateful and adoring parents and friends kneel around 
 her. There is a majesty, a serenity and meekness about the tender 
 woman that makes the divine overshadow the human element, and 
 betrays a conception of the dignity and meaning of womanhood that is 
 truly marvelous when we consider the age in which it was formed, and 
 gives rise to a train of thought in which all consciousness of present 
 surroundings is lost. But, of course, the one work here that com- 
 pletely annihilates self-importance and takes the heart by storm is the 
 Madonna de San Sisto — the greatest work of the greatest painter that 
 ever lived. Poised in the clouds, the Mother and Child, conscious of 
 a sublime and supernatural mission, are about to descend earthward to 
 rescue and regenerate the human race. In their dark eyes, full of sol- 
 emn wonder, there is a realization of the human anguish to be endured, 
 a prophetic anticipation of the sword that is to pierce each sensitive 
 soul. This work has never been reproduced, for the attempted copies 
 do not convey any idea of the original. St. Sixtus, St. Barbara and 
 the cherubs are worthy adjuncts to these central figures; indeed 
 critics complain that St. Barbara has too great physical beauty for a 
 saint. The St. Sebastian, by Correggio, is one of the best works here. 
 The youthful hero — at one side of the picture with his hands bound 
 to a tree — turns away from his fetters and beholds the succoring Vir- 
 gin and Child in the centre surrounded by numerous angels and cher- 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 79 
 
 ubs, so serene, joyous and almost gay that he can smile in the midst of 
 his martyrdom. Unlike that of Guido, here the objective consolation 
 supersedes the interest felt in the subjective suffering. A Portrait of 
 the Duke of Milan, by Leonardo da Vinci, is a striking impersonation 
 of a ferocious gladiator dressed in the gaudy costume of the age as a 
 military leader and Epicurean philosopher. On leaving the Gallery, we 
 rushed for a few moments in the church belonging to the Palace, and 
 saw a fine altar-piece by Raphael Mengs — the "Ascension " in which the 
 Divine Friend having "breathed his tender, last farewell," is rising 
 above the clouds and beyond the gaze of His bereaved followers, and 
 over all there is a golden glow that adds to the exalted conception and 
 unearthly scene. After this, feeling unable to keep my eyes open, or 
 drag one foot after the other, I declined to proceed further, and re- 
 turned to the Hotel to sleep, while the others visited the Porcelain Es- 
 tablishment and shops. This was all I saw of Dresden, for the same 
 evening we left for Berlin, and arrived at the Central Hotel at 10 p. M. 
 Saturday night. Sunday was a bright, cool.diiy, but none of the mem- 
 bers of our party felt like attending the English church, which was quite 
 distant So my sisters and I started off in a carriage with a German 
 driver, feeling the lull force of the strange and thoroughly foreign sur- 
 roundings. We reached Mont bijou some time before the service be- 
 gan, and, at the sexton's suggestion, took a little walk in the Palace 
 garden. The service was a strange one. At the end of the Venite a 
 voung man, with the face of an ideal nobleman, dressed in gray panta- 
 loons, a short surplice and a fur-lined hood dashed down the aisle and 
 read the first lesson, returning to the choir at the end, and ditto with 
 the second lesson. We determined to walk back to the Hotel, as the 
 distance had not proved so great as reported, and it was not easy to get 
 a cab. We passed from street to street without difficulty, though we 
 did at one time get in the midst of a military procession, and were 
 cpiite elated over the achievement. In the afternoon, at my suggestion, 
 Mr. J , A. and I started off for the American chapel. After a very long 
 walk we arrived and found a Mission Sunday school just breaking up. 
 A young Englishman came forward and welcomed us, and, though we 
 found that there was no service there in the afternoon, the conversa- 
 tion of this young man proved more of a privilege than many ser- 
 mons. He is not a minister, or preparing to be one, but a self- 
 constituted and self-supported missionary here, and his intense 
 earnestness and deep piety cannot but affect all who come in 
 contact with him On Monday morning we took the train for 
 Potsdam, and after a pleasant ride through the magnificent su- 
 perbs of Berlin reached our destination. The fine Palaces, 
 churches, handsome bridges and statues make it a very im- 
 posing place. AVe directed our course towards Sans-Souci and first 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 entered the Picture Gallery. It is a long, narrow hall with a richly 
 gilded ceiling adorned with high reliefs of artists' materials, &c. The 
 paintings are all on the sensuous order and this sameness is tire- 
 some. There were several Venuses hy and after Titian, a nude por- 
 trait of Rembrandt's wife, a Garden of Love by Rubens, and a good 
 many others not noteworthy. A Holy Family ascribed to Raphael does 
 not appeal 1 to advantage here. In the same hall were several statues; 
 a pretty Venus by Coustou, 1769; a Mars, a Diana and a full length 
 of Napoleon which makes him out a very tall and muscular man. In 
 another apartment there is a Head of Christ by Raphael for which 
 Frederick the Great paid an almost fabulous sum. Oh, it is so sad! 
 It shows the face that was marred more than that of any man. What 
 possible meaning can the art of the Sixteenth Century have for an un- 
 believer? Oh, I should think from a purely human stand-point that 
 a person who felt no inward response to the love of Christ would 
 almost die of shame. I do not see how anyone can support such 
 mortification. There were some lovely pictures in this room ; little 
 landscapes and domestic scenes full of life and good cheer. But 
 now came the time to enter the rooms of the great and cruel man who 
 has left such an indellible impression on his country that the whole 
 world has agreed to rise up and call him blessed. Poor Frederick ! 
 My knowledge of his life and character is probably not drawn from the 
 best sources, but I have always had an idea that he had almost as much 
 of an inward as an outward history (though generally one of these is 
 always at the expense of the other) and that he suffered more than 
 it falls to the lot of most mortals to endure. Externally, the Palace, 
 one story high, groans under the burden of heavy sculptures; hut in- 
 ternally, it is simplicity itself. We saw his music-stand and music, 
 the little old piano, the chairs worn out by his favorite dogs, his writ- 
 ing-table and ink-stand. The library was most interesting, lined with 
 French books, and one of Voltaire's, lying open. There was a richly 
 embroidered fire-screen here. We stood in the room near the couch on 
 which he died, and saw the clock which stopped at 2.20, the moment 
 of his death ; also went through the Queen's apartments and Voltairs's, 
 curiously and grotesquely adorned with arabesque caricatures. The 
 Gardens around are beautifully laid out and ornamented with marble 
 statues copied from the finest works. The old wind-mill is an object 
 of great interest and the new one vouches for the truth of the romantic 
 story that he fell in love with the Miller's daughter and sought to pac- 
 ify the old man with this present. We then rode to the Garrison 
 Church. It has a very substantial and odd appearance. The pulpit is 
 set in the wall in about the middle of the church and is decked with 
 flags taken from the Austrians, Danes and French. Beneath it is a 
 door and this is the entrance to a tiny vault, in which are two perfectly 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 81 
 
 plain box-like coffins containing the ashes of Frederick the Great and 
 his father Frederick William I. I stood where Napoleon stood and 
 mused over the vanity of all earthly greatness. The sword which once 
 rested, on his coffin was taken by him who emulated the fame of the 
 dead hero. On returning to the station we hurriedly jumped on a 
 train starting earlier than we intended to leave and entering the city 
 by a different depot, and so incurred, the penalty of a tremendously 
 long walk back to the Central Hotel. Yesterday Ave walked out 
 "Unter den Linden" the magnificence of which we Americans failed 
 to apprehend, as the trees are the most miserable apologies for such 
 objects. The equestrian statue of Frederick the Great is perfectly 
 magnificent, especially the alto-relievo figures on the pedestal. But 
 there are so many enormous statues, so many broad streets, colossal 
 buildings and great squares in Berlin that a stranger must feel more or 
 less stupefied. The people seem so phlegmatic, self satisfied and hit; 
 so devoid of animation, melancholy or fun that they appear more like 
 automatons than human beings. It began raining, so we went in one 
 of the University Buildings to wait until the Boyal Palace was opened. 
 Externally, all the buildings are handsome and immense; but for 
 the dreariness and barrenness of the interior of this it would be 
 impossible to find an equal. Well, we ascended an inclined plane of 
 stone to reach the Royal apartments, and at the entrance the guide 
 bade everyone put on great, Laplander, cloth overshoes to avoid 
 scratching the finely inlaid floors. I said it was my private opinion 
 that they got the floors polished in this way, for the crowd was great, 
 and in its shufflings must have produced the effect of an army of 
 scrubbers. It was very hard work, indeed, to walk in these boats, and 
 some time before we could get over laughing at the appearance of the 
 people. We passed through twelve rooms, all very handsome and 
 hung with family portraits. But, to keep up with all the Wilhelminas, 
 Sophias, Williams and Frederick Willliams is a task that I have never 
 attempted, and consequently could not derive much edification from 
 this tour. One room was filled with ancient gold and silver plate that 
 was used at Coronation Banquets, and was dazzling, but from the size 
 of the pieces one would imagine the feasters giants. The Thrones 
 were of solid silver, and the Banqueting Hall was beautifully deco- 
 rated with statues and garlands. In the Picture Gallery, I enjoyed 
 a fine, equestrian portrait of Frederick the Great, and one of Kaiser 
 Wilhelm, a full length portrait of Catherine II, of Russia, a hand- 
 some woman with an attractive and not altogether unfeminine 
 smile; Queen Victoria; the Georges; Napoleon on horseback ascend- 
 ing the Alps ; and, opposite, Blucher ; a perfectly lovely portrait 
 of the celebrated Queen Louise of Prussia, and a large picture of the 
 Triumphant Entry of the Prussians at Versailles. The Lutheran 
 
82 
 
 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 Chapel was very interesting. The walls are frescoed in panels, with a 
 gild^fjack-ground and full length figures of the most important char- 
 acters of the Old and New Testaments, and the great men of the 
 Reformation — Luther, Calvin, Beza, Knox, &c, &c. The seats were red 
 velvet chairs and the altar pillars were of alabaster, Avhile a cross, 
 studded witli gems, and a crucifix, appeared behind the pulpit. We 
 passed hence to the Museum. In the square there is a bronze eques- 
 trian statue of William III. The exterior of the Museum is frescoed, 
 and at the entrance on the sides are tAvo magnificent bronzes — one an 
 Amazon repelling the attack of a panther, by Kiss, and the other a 
 warrior struggling with a lion. There are fine Avhite marble statues of 
 eminent sculptors in the Colonade. Within the collection of sculpture 
 consists chiefly of casts, well arranged and of some merit as casts; but 
 they could have but a second-class interest for us Avho have seen the 
 great Avorks themselves. Among the marbles were a small figure of 
 John the Baptist, by Michael Angelo, and, wonder of wonders, the 
 Hera of Polycletus! This glorious head, which I searched for in 
 Naples, fully ansAvers to the anticipations raised by its admirers, and 
 is undoubtedly a Avork of the Golden Age. The Roman Avorks Avere not 
 without interest. A full-length statue of Julius Csesar, the first Ave 
 have seen, I think, and numerous busts and full lengths of Augustus, 
 arrested our attention. In the afternoon Ave drove through the city 
 and saw the palace in which Bismarck lives. It is the plainest in the 
 square — being only tAvo stories high and not at all imposing. The 
 street containing the residences of the elite is very beautiful, bordering 
 on the park with its noble avenues of forest trees and grand statues. 
 There are beautiful Avhite marble figures of Goethe and Schiller in the 
 park. The Triumphal Arch, surmounted by the figure of Victory 
 seated in a chariot drawn by four horses, is a fine work. But the fea- 
 ture of greatest interest and most dazzling appearance is the neAv col- 
 umn of Victory commemorating the Prussians' triumph over France in 
 1871. It expresses more exultation than anything of the kind Ave have 
 seen. The base is sculptured in bas-relief, representing the leading 
 features of the Avar, and many of the figures are portraits. This is 
 surmounted by a gallery around a large column gloriously covered with 
 the most brilliant Venetian mosaics, and from this rises the lofty shaft 
 of granite, when, just as it is about to lose itself in the cloudless sky, 
 the golden figure of a woman, poised on one foot, as if flying through 
 the air, bearing the triumphal wreath oi^ victory, startles, dazzles and 
 fascinates the gaze of all beholders. Last night, hearing that Wachtel 
 was creating quite a sensation, Ave all determined to patronize 
 the opera and enjoy some vocal music. All the entertain- 
 ments here commence at 6.30 or 7 o'clock, in broad daylight, 
 forming a decided item in the novelty of the event. We 
 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 83 
 
 wended our way to Kroll's Theatre and found it very pretty indeed 
 and very unlike anything of the kind in our own country. It is a small 
 hall decorated in blue, white and gilt and square in form, the seats ris- 
 ing at some distance above each other. The Opera was the Postilion 
 of Lonjumeau with very little acting and a great deal of singing. 
 Wachtel, well supported, sang with much feeling. One of Abt's love- 
 liest songs was introduced and altogether Ave enjoyed the performance 
 thoroughly. At the end of each act nearly the whole audience left and 
 went to promenade and drink beer in the adjoining Garden. Upon the 
 conclusion of the play we, too, wondered for a little Avbile in these bril- 
 liantly lighted walks. Lights sprang from translucent lilies, tulips, 
 roses, grapes and every conceivable shape and variety of ornamental 
 work. 
 
 Frankfort-on-ihe-Maine, July 19th. — We spent last night in 
 Leipsic, but, as our courier told us, " this is a lost place ; people sleep 
 hardly here. " So, after a very little shopping in the morning, Ave 
 sped on our way. This journey was exceedingly interesting. We 
 passed through Weimar, the Athens of Germany, and a beautiful, quiet 
 place; Erf art, the Thuringian Forest and Eisenach, so impregnated 
 with associations of Luther's wonderful lile and influence. 
 
 This is certainly one of the most interesting of all the places that 
 we have visited, and I think the most so of any in Germany. It retains 
 so much of its ancient aspect, and has not been tortured into a modern 
 city to suit the visitors from prosaic countries. We had a thoroughly 
 delightful drive this morning; saw the grand, bronze group of the 
 Three Inventors of Printing — Guttenberg, Schaeffer and Faust — in 
 long robes, with patient, spirituelle faces ; the magnificent Bourse built 
 by the Rothschildes ; fine statues of Lessing, Goethe and Schiller; saAV 
 the plain, little house in Avhich Goethe Avas born, rode all through the 
 Jews' quarter, and saw Avhat Mr. Daziano called Rothschilde's " born- 
 house. " It is in the last stages of decay, and could not in its wretched 
 appearance present a more forcible contrast, than it does to the stately 
 dwellings which these illustrious plutocrats have scattered OA r er Eu- 
 rope ; also saAv the house in which Luther lived — a crooked, narrow, 
 old building with an oriel Avindow and a rough portrait of the Ee- 
 former on the outside, — Avent to the old Town Llall, but, my sister not 
 feeling able to make the tour of it, I did not leave her. The others 
 brought back accounts of Portraits of all the Emperors of the Ger- 
 mans — from Charlemagne to Francis II. In our drive Ave saAv Frank- 
 fort's monument commemorating Prussia's victory over France. It is, 
 if anything, a still more galling and insulting Avork. It represents a 
 lion in green bronze completely crushed under a mass of shields, 
 swords, and various Aveapons of war. Ah ! France, thou needst not 
 fear! none but the brave could elicit such testimonies of triumph from 
 
8i MY JOURNAL IN" FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 conquerors. In the private dwelling of Mr. Beth man, we saw shrined 
 among his beautiful collection of casts the famous statue of Ariadne 
 on the Panther by Dannecker. It is placed to the very best advantage 
 under a red sky-light, and spectators are shrouded by a heavy curtain, 
 so that the effect of flesh tint is produced, and brings out the ex- 
 quisite moulding of the limbs splendidly. The defiant woman has evi- 
 dently forgotten all about Theseus, but I cannot say I like the sneer 
 on her lovely face. The Cathedral, old churches, beautiful, new villas 
 and parks here are all well worth seeing. 
 
 Wiesbaden", July 2Lst. — This morning we enjoyed another pleasant 
 drive. This is quite a large city, though over it all is the air of a wa- 
 tering-place. We saw the exterior of the hue Jewish Synagogue liere, 
 and drove far into the country through a beautiful woods untouched 
 by the hand, of man. At the top of the hill, and at the turning of the 
 road, is the house called the Hunting Palace of the Duke of Nassau. 
 From this point the view of the Khine, Mayence, Wiesbaden and the 
 more remote cities on its banks, with the fields and meadows beyond 
 makes a very lovely picture. On our homeward way we went in the 
 splendid Greek church, so beautifully situated on the edge of the city. 
 It is handsomer than the one in Geneva; the entire interior ismarble, 
 chiefly white, and the sculpturing is magnificent. One. side of the 
 church is occupied by the monument of a Russian Princess — Elizabeth 
 Miehselowna — the young and lovely wife of the Duke of Nassau. It 
 represents a beautiful, young woman in the fullness of health and 
 strength sleeping in death, and is one of the most magnetic pieces of 
 work I ever saw. The dreamy repose, the sweet expression and the 
 soft contour of the wbole figure are irresistibly lovely. Against the 
 base are statues of the Apostles, and at the corners women symbolizing 
 Faith, Hope, Charity and Immortality. The paintings here represent 
 the angel Gabriel, St. Cecilia, the Virgin and other single figures, and 
 the Last Supper. In a casket at one side is a picture representing 
 Christ lying dead, in perfect serenity and calm. It is more peculiar 
 than beautiful. This afternoon I attended the second of the open-air 
 concerts here. The Kursaal is the finest of any that I have seen, and 
 the music splendid. Last night, there was a band of stringed instru- 
 ments, but this afternoon it was a military band. The Colonades 
 lined with brilliant shops throughout their length, are very fascinat- 
 ing, and the Park, bounded by handsome villas, is beautiful. Wies- 
 baden is more crowded with invalids than any wa'ering-place I have 
 ever visited. A great many seem to be English people. 
 
 Amsterdam, Tuesday, July 24. — We had a lovely Sunday in Wies. 
 baden, attending the English church in the morning, resting, reading 
 and meeting a number of Americans at our Hotel in the evening 
 Bright and early Monday morning we rode to Biebrich, and there took 
 
My journal in foreign lands. 85 
 
 the steamer on the Rhine. There was a large company on board, and 
 and, among others, one of our former traveling companions. Of course, 
 we participated in the general disappointment in the color of the 
 Rhine, as it was very muddy and ugly. But the right bank is pictur- 
 esque from the start. The Chateau of Johanuisberg, and the islands 
 connected with the history of Charlemagne and Louis le Debonnaire 
 are the first, striking objects of interest. After this the grand, old 
 feudal strongholds follow each other in such rapid succession, that it is 
 impossible to retain distinct recollections of each. One can easily see 
 how they served for prisons, retreats, refuges and forts, for most of 
 them are built on the very rock itself, which rises precipitously from 
 the waters' edge, and all seem entirely inaccessible to the uninitiated. 
 The ruins of the Castle of Ehrenfels, once the residence of the Arch- 
 bishops of Mayence ; Rheinstein, restored by Prince Frederick, of 
 Prussia, in 1825; the ruins of Falkenberg, which still stand after a 
 whole volume of vicissitudes ; Stahleck, which was taken and retaken 
 eight times during the Thirty Years' War; the Pfalz, so picturesquely 
 situated, on a rocky island" in the middle of the river, and built by the 
 Emperor Louis in the fourteen^century for the purpose of exacting'toll 
 from passing vessels, are only a few of the innumerable objects of inter- 
 est claiming attention at first. We rejoiced over Bingen, so indissolu- 
 ble associated with the period of happiest school days, and proving as 
 "fair" as the fondest heart could wish. Soon after, we were startled 
 by the Mouse Tower, whose curious legend we had to begin to learn 
 then and there. History, however, tells us that it was built for a toll- 
 house in the thirteenth century, but it is quaint enough to lend itself 
 to the aid of any legend. Caub marks the point at which the Prussian 
 army under Blncher crossed the Rhine in 1814. Soon after passing 
 the beautiful Castle of Sconberg- we reached the bold rocks of the 
 Lurlei, the legend of which has been more celebrated in music and 
 drama than that of any other spot on the romantic river. But, the 
 more you tell young people of the danger that there is in coquetry, the 
 more fascinating they will think it, so I am not going to say anything 
 about these heartless maidens. We saw the village of Goarhausen, to 
 which is attached the tradition of a sainted monk ; the extensive ruins 
 of Eheinfels, Stolzenfels and Ehrenbreitstein, with its pontine bridge 
 and magnificent fortifications. There are beautiful churches, Roman- 
 esque, Norman and Gothic, scattered through the numerous villages 
 that cluster at the base of these castles. Arenfels is one of the grand- 
 est old forts, and soon after passing this we saw the mighty ruins of 
 Rolandseck and Drachenfels, which stand on the pinnacles of masses of 
 rocks piled up on each other, as if to invite and suggest the idea of a 
 fortress. There is no character either in history or romance more at- 
 tractive than that of Roland, and it is said that he built this castle in 
 
86 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 view of the Convent in which his affianced bride, the beautiful Hilde- 
 garde, had taken the veil after receiving the false report of his death 
 at Etoncesaux. We stopped at Bonn, and invested it with all the in- 
 terest it demands from the time of its fame as a Roman city, until it be- 
 came the birth-place of Beethoven, and the seat of such a prosperous 
 University. We appreciated the beauty of the Rhine enough to realize 
 that it was never meant to be judged by a single, steamboat ride ; but 
 this may give an idea of the delights of a pedestrian tour, and the views 
 obtained from the castles themselves, not a single one of which is 
 badly situated. Then with a thorough knowledge of the many and com- 
 plicated historical and traditional incidents connected with these ruins 
 (for these form one of the most brilliant pages of Medieval History), 
 I should think strong, young people might start out With as glowing an 
 anticipation of pleasure as they could get up. Before we reached Co- 
 logne we had a heavy shower, but, on arriving, this was pretty well 
 over, and, after a refreshing table d' Hote at the Hotel du Dom, I sug- 
 gested that Ave should go over and receive our first impressions of the 
 glorious, old Cathedral by twilight. The work of six hundred years is 
 now completed, and I think it is much the finest of any that Ave have 
 seen. The immense height, the unity of design — the architect never 
 having swerved from the severe, stately, pointed arch — the flying but- 
 tresses with their intervening piers and Avilderness of pinnacles produce 
 an impression of the sublime that is unequaled by anything else in Art. 
 The vastness, the simplicity, the glorious clustered pillars, the gor- 
 geous windows of the interior are in perfect keeping with the exterior. 
 All the vague and boundless aspiration of the uniA T ersal, human heart 
 is here set forth in stone, as no other medium could attempt to portray 
 it. The fading day-light, the mystic influences of twilight, lent their 
 charm as we Avalked through the lofty aisles with hushed voices, and 
 none but solemn thoughts. With our oavu, intelligent, book-loving 
 people the age for such a work has long since passed away; but it may 
 be there are many yet Avho need to be taught by object-lessons of such 
 force and dignity as this. Next morning Ave made a more business- 
 like tour of the Cathedral, and discovered that it is the shrine of the 
 Magi, who are here called the " Three Kings of Cologne; " also that 
 the heart of Marie de Medici lies buried under, or near, the High Al- 
 tar. There are colossal, painted Avood statues of Christ, the Virgin 
 and the Twelve Apostles standing on the columns encircling the choir, 
 belonging to the fourteenth century, and the carved seats of the same 
 period are very handsome and curious. There are pews in the nave 
 like those of our oavu churches, and this seems very strange, as perma- 
 nent seats are never seen in Continental churches. We then visited 
 the church of St. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. It looks as 
 if it would fall to pieces at any moment, and the Avails of the church 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 87 
 
 and the treasury, or golden chamber, are covered with the skulls and 
 bones of the saint and her companions. There is a marble monument 
 to the saint with recumbent effigy and Latin inscription, and this, 
 as well as the paintings, architecture, &c, maintains the same 
 venerable appearance. In the- treasury, besides the skulls, there are 
 casts covered with gold of some of the virgins, taken, I judge, immedi- 
 ately after they were slain. The relics of the saint kept in a silver 
 case have an unmistakable, modern air, and the appearance of having 
 been collected from various quarters. Here we were shown a broken 
 jar, which is said to have held the water turned to wine at the Mar- 
 riage in Can a. Of course, the burden of proof rests with those who 
 attempt to dispute the truth of these astounding statements, and I 
 confess to having left St. Ursula's in as profound a state of mystifica- 
 tion as I ever experienced in my life. Cologne is blessed with many, 
 queer, old churches, bearing the imprint of hundreds of years, and to 
 each one is attached a tradition bordering on the miraculous. But the 
 time drew near for us to leave, and, after treating ourselves to pretty 
 bottles of the pure, genuine, Jean Maria Farina Cologne, we took our 
 seats in the train and prepared for novel sensations as we journeyed 
 into Holland. Our train was taken across the Rhine on a boat, and, 
 after getting over, we were tossed about on the roughest road Ave have 
 encountered yet. But the further on we pushed, the more Ave were 
 diverted by the numerous windmills — which are houses and mills in 
 one, and look like enormous mounds adorned with windows, and flanked 
 by huge, flying spokes, — then the fertile meadows and the beautiful 
 cattle; and, above all, the thrifty and industrious people at the stations 
 and in the fields I call this the Ultima Thule of our wanderings, for, 
 though Ave are not anything like as far away from home as Ave have 
 been, the people, speaking a language which is totally incomprehensi- 
 ble to us, and the novel aspect of everything makes us feel that Ave are 
 indeed strangers in a strange land. On our Avay here we passed Cleves 
 — the home of the most fortunate of Henry VIII. 's wives — a very 
 comfortable looking, prosperous place. As the International Exposi- 
 tion is now being held here, Ave expected some inconveniences at the 
 Hotel, but were hardly prepared for those actually encountered. The 
 winding stairs are the steepest, highest, narrowest that can be ima- 
 gined. But our courier assures us that all the hotels here are similarly 
 constructed (except the Amstel, which is full), and this, our long ride 
 from the station convinced us, must be true, for nearly all the houses 
 are so narrow as necessarily to render a stair-way excessively steep. 
 But Ave have gas in our bedrooms for the first time on the Continent, 
 and have soothed our ruffled spirits with this consolation, and the de- 
 termination to go on to the Hague to-morrow night. 
 
 The Hague, Holland, July 26th. — We can do nothing but con- 
 
88 MY JOURNAL IN l'OKKLGN LANDS. 
 
 gratulate ourselves upon the good taste displayed in prolonging our 
 stay here, instead of at Amsterdam. But I must write - first of my ex- 
 periences in this latter city. Of course, we went to the Exposition. 
 A pouring rain prevented any walking through the grounds, but the 
 buildings, both small and great, seem to have been set down anywhere, 
 and have a most unfinished, unsatisfactoi*y appearance. The finest one 
 of all, which will be permanent, docs not approach completion, as the 
 scaffolding and busy workmen testify. We walked through the Main 
 Building, and stopped for some time in the Bel gic department before 
 the cases of lace and elegant court cost nines (crimson velvet ball dresses 
 and white satin morning wrappers) on which no labor seems to have 
 been spared. The rich material, deep colors and artistic effect of these 
 dresses attracted much attention. In the Italian department there 
 were 'only such things as we had seen ad libitum in all the shop win- 
 dows of Italy. France presented much the finest appearance. Our 
 own department was so pitiful, that wc could not but feel mortified, 
 but we enjoyed the long-unknown privilege of rocking in the yellow 
 rocking-chairs i'we from molestation or interruption. Our display 
 consisted in sewing-machines, organs and chairs. In other depart- 
 ments there were line pianos, upholstery, glass, &c, &c. We saw peo- 
 ple of all nationalities except our own, and strangest of all were the 
 peasant women of the Netherlands. They wore on their heads a closely 
 fitting, brass cap, with queer, ringlike ornaments on the temples; this 
 cap was covered with one of Swiss or dotted muslin, and in some cases 
 this extraordinary head-dress was surmounted by an American hat 
 trimmed with ribbons and feathers. We also saw the natives of Cal- 
 cutta — beautifully formed, graceful men, with a tawny complexion, 
 dark, flashing eyes and straight noses. Bui as soon as the rain ceased 
 we hurried oil' to see the more note -worthy sights of Amsterdam. In- 
 tersected by its numerous canals many allusions to its resemblance to 
 Venice have been made, but no two cities could be more unlike. This 
 city is spotlessly clean, home-life seems to be rendered as attractive as 
 possible, pubhc enterprise is very evident in the finely paved streets, 
 public buildings and city regulations, and there is 'over all an air of 
 prosaic well-being and material prosperity; all of which is totally in- 
 applicable to oligarchical Venice In the Museum the gems are Rem- 
 brandt's "Night Watch" and Van der Heist's Treaty of Minister. In 
 the former the charm consists in the bright light reflected (from a 
 lantern) here and there on the laces and costumes of a whole group of 
 burly Dutchmen, while the darkness of midnight prevails everywhere 
 else. The faces are frank and good, and the whole very attractive. 
 The other picture is thoroughly realistic, as is also Rembrandt's Five 
 Masters of the Drapers Company and their servant, and the interest 
 centres only on the execution. Gerard Dow's Evening School is an- 
 
MY JOURNAL IX FOREIGN LANDS. 8'» 
 
 other wonderful exhibition of the effects of candle-light in painting. 
 We also visited the Uoyal Palace, the hereditary residence of the Kings 
 of Holland, and now the abode of William HI., the direct descendant 
 of William the Silent. There are many traces of the reign of Louis 
 Bonaparte still here. The walls, galleries, cornices, &c, are splendidly 
 sculptured in white marble, and there are a number of peculiar, Dutch 
 paintings set in the walls, and occupying the entire side of a large 
 room; also some fine painting ih imitation of statuary. The Dam, or 
 open Square, is a very-lively, busy place, and everyone here seems to be 
 intent on something. A short, railway ride brought us on to the 
 Hague, and to-day we have seen still more of the history and the life 
 of this valiant people. The sun shone gloriously, and we enjoyed a 
 fine ride through the ''Bosk" — a park filled with magnificent trees, 
 and., save for its smooth, broad roads, alllowed to remain a grand piece 
 of Nature. In the square, just before entering this, there is a splendid 
 monument to Liberation from Spanish oppression, and portrait-statues 
 of Orange, tCginont and Horn swearing to break the yoke. At the 
 other end we stopped and went into the rural palace, called the House 
 in the Wood, the home of the late Queen Sophia. It is a charming 
 residence, in which elegance and simplicity have formed a most amica- 
 ble union. Everything is dainty and fine; there are Japanese rooms 
 — walls and furniture covered with pale, embroidered satin, chande- 
 liers made of Dresden porcelain, &c. In one of these little rooms our 
 hearts rejoiced over a portrait of John Lathrop Motley, the warm 
 friend of the late Queen. In the music room hangs a lovely portrait of 
 the young Prince of Orange, who died in Paris four years ago, before 
 attaining manhood. But the most curious and striking room is the 
 Ball Room, decorated at the desire of Queen Amelia by Rubens and his 
 pupils, with scenes in the life of William the Silent. It is a circular 
 apartment, and there is not a space devoid of painting. In the dome 
 there is a gallery for an orchestra, and the ceiling contains a portrait 
 of Queen Amelia herself — the fourth wife of the great Prince. The 
 scenes in his life are represented allegorically, and very odd and eccen- 
 tric this representation is. There are portraits of Ruben's two wives 
 in one panel, Amazonian blondes of a type of beauty that is perfectly 
 overpowering. Indeed, one's breath is completely taken away by this 
 display of Ruben's gigantic figures — so powerful, muscular and more 
 than human are they, while the coloring is as beautiful as it is peculiar 
 and original. Our next visit was to the Museum, formerly the Palace 
 of the Ben tin ck family. The first work which everyone rushes to see 
 is Paul Potter's famous Bull. It would be perfectly impossible for any 
 praise to exaggerate the merits of this wonder. The trouble is to real- 
 ize that it is a painting. Rembrandt's Anatomical Lesson is considered 
 very fine, but it is such a horribly ugly subject, I could take no pleas- 
 
are in looking at it. There are some fine, Italian works here — a M 
 donna and Child by Murillo. How perfectly unideal are all of Muril- 
 lo's Madonnas! There is never an aureole about the head; none are 
 beautiful. He just seems to say : '■ See how lovely are Motherhood and 
 Childhood represented by the typical Mother and Child ! " Adam and 
 Eve by Oignani: Head of Christ and Magdalen by Carlo Dolce; Saints 
 and Angels by Bartolommeo; portraits by Vandyke of William the Si- 
 lent and his four Wives ; of Maurice, Prince of Orange, the Georges and 
 their wives, De Ruyter and a few Germans; p'retty, little scenes by 
 Gerard How and Vanderwerf: a very peculiar Murder of the Inno- 
 cents and Vandyke's Angels heralding the Birth of Christ are among 
 the most interesting and notieable works. In another part of the city 
 there is a fine, bronze statue of William the Silent, and his old Palace 
 is still standing in the square. h\ the afternoon we made an excursion 
 to Sche^eniugen, one of the greatest sea-side resorts of Holland. The 
 town is built on the dykes, and laid out nicely, consisting of large 
 hotels and a fine arcade of shops. Down on the beach, in the sand of 
 which one's feet sink and slide, there wJfa great many people occupy- 
 ing shelter chairs, which look like old-time, single-seated carriages. 
 The people themselves were very modern and common-place, and noth- 
 ing prevented imagining ourselves at one of our own seaside resorts. 
 
 Brussels, Tuesday, July 31st. — In our journey from the Hague to 
 Antwerp, we stopped at Rotterdam long enough to see the sights of 
 this queer, old city. While it is very evident that the Hague is the 
 residence of the nobility and aristocracy, it is just as clear that this is 
 the home of the industrious, working people. Everyone is busy here. 
 The old houses built on piles, and rows of them leaning over in one 
 direction, look as if they certainly would fall to pieces. The canals, 
 boats of many sizes and shapes, the vegetable markets right in the tho- 
 roughfares of the open streets, the people looking from the windows of 
 the narrow, high houses all go to make up a picture not easily forgot- 
 ten'. In the centre of the Groote Market is a bronze statue of Erasmus, 
 which looks very small compared to more modern works. He wears a 
 long, loose robe, and holds the open .Bible in his hands, towards which 
 
 Ins line, thoughtful, rather 
 
 'face is turned. Opposite still 
 
 stands the liny, little house in which he was born, proving that pov- 
 erty and obscurity cannot in themselves rest rain true ability. After 
 dinner in Antwerp, we started out and walked, I believe, over the 
 whole city, seeing the beautiful statues of Rubens, Teniers and Van 
 Dyck in the public squares, the house in which Rubens lived, and. of 
 course, the exterior of the ancient Cathedral, overshadowing the whole 
 city for good or evil. There is an angularity and irregularity about it 
 that is not pleasing, though the workmanship is delicate and tine, and 
 the spire a marvel. In the morning we had the privilege of seeing 
 
my Journal in pohkkin lands. Hi 
 
 Ruben's masterpieces in the interior The Elevation of the Cross and 
 the Descent from the Cross give one a totally new conception of the 
 capabilities of painting. It seems almost sacriligeons to speak of the 
 agony portrayed in every muscle, every fibre of the Divine Sufferer. 
 Every figure in the separate groups is wonderfully individualized, and 
 all appeal to the strongest of human emotions. In the "Elevation'' 
 there is a Roman soldier on a, splendid horse, and the whole scene is as 
 vivid as if the painter had been any eye-witness. We were here during 
 service and heard some beautiful violin and. organ music. At another 
 altar is kept the picture of the Head of the Dead Christ by Rubens, 
 but this is not one of his best works in my opinion. Everything in 
 Antwerp is Rubens. In the Museum there are two collossal busts of 
 him — one in bronze, the other in white marble, — his chair, and, of 
 course, many paintings by him. In'the First Hall there is a Visit of 
 the Magi, in which the grand freedom, bold execution and brilliant 
 coloring must strike everyone. In the long, main hall there are paint- 
 ings by Jordaens, Teniers. Calvart. Matsys and Van Dyck, all having a 
 family likeness. For intense sadness and portrayal of physical agony, 
 there are no others to compare to these Flemish paintings. One would 
 not like to see them in private houses, they would stifle all light-heart- 
 edness, and even cheerfulness. Neither are they beautiful as works of 
 art, for its mission is to elevate, not to harrow. But, as expressions of 
 the depth and intensity of human feeling, I believe they are the grand- 
 est achievements of genius. In this hall there are some pretty, white 
 marble groups ; a copy of Kiss' Amazon, a young girl listening to the 
 murmur of a sea-shell, &c. When we returned to the Hotel we found 
 a party of thirty Americans about to accompany us to Brussels, and, 
 upon arriving at our Hotel in this latter city, found another party of 
 thirteen. We took possession of the entire house, and have had a very 
 lively and delightful time together. There are a great many English 
 residents in Brussels, and consequently a number of English churches. 
 On Sunday we attended one of these, and, though not pleased with the 
 conduct of the service, heard an excellent sermon. Starting out Mon- 
 day morning we stopped first at the Wiertz Gallery. This was the 
 opening of a new door into the vast realm of knowledge and beauty for 
 me. But a glance explains why it is that Antoine Wiertz, a painter of 
 oui- own age, and one of the greatest that ever lived, is never catalogued 
 with other artists. He stands entirely alone; as much unaffected by 
 any other artist as if no other existed. Delighting in the eccentricity 
 of genius, I could scarcely tear myself away from these paintings. Some 
 of them are so large that the room had to be built expressly for them. 
 The best of all is the Triumph of the Son of God. Good and evil an- 
 gels, principalities and powers, beings that in passion, purity and 
 grandeur far exceed anything that the ordinary imagination can con- 
 
92 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LA.ND5. 
 
 ceive fall and rise and soar and struggle across this mighty canvas, 
 while the light that streams on the central figure and face of Christ 
 irradiates all who come within reach of its glorious influence. The 
 Revolt of the Demons against the Angels is a work on the same order, 
 and of even more gigantic proportions. The Greeks and the Trojans 
 disputing for the body of Pa trocl us affords room not only for the dis- 
 play of titanic forms and god-like beauty, but every phase of light and 
 shade seems to be let loose here, and mental, moral and physical en- 
 ergy, frenzy and frantic effort animate the wonderful beings, or plunge 
 them in a gloom that is terrible. An Homeric Combat and Goigotha 
 complete the number of large paintings. In the smaller works there 
 is an entire absence of this wierd eccentricity, and on the other hand a 
 realism that extends to the deception of the senses. The dog in his 
 kennel is so natural, that one feels a little hesitation in going too near 
 it. A young girl standing in a half open door is one of these works, 
 and there are several others to be looked at through a tiny opening in 
 the wall that completely mystify and bewilder one. The artist would 
 not permit any of these to be framed, and, of course, their surround- 
 ings help to keep up the deception. We left this great Gallery with so 
 many new ideas and materials for future thought and study, that the 
 whole of life put on a new aspect of interest. A visit to one of the cel- 
 ebrated Lace Factories here convinced me that the Inquisition itself 
 could not devise a more monotonous, narrowing and unendurable oc- 
 cupation than this The work is beautiful, but it is now made at an 
 expense of health, sight and enjoyment of life that is frightful. 
 Greatly to the disgust of some of the party, a few of us insisted on 
 slipping into the Cathedral of Ste Gudule for a few moments. We felt 
 well repaid. The painted windows are peculiarly rich, there are hand- 
 some, white marble monuments to the Dukes of Brabant, &c, and a 
 marvelous Pulpit, carved by Verbruggen, the figures of Adam and Eve 
 expelled from Paradise being full of expression, pathos and beauty. 
 During our drive through the city we saw the Place Eoyal with its 
 beautiful, equestrian statue of Godfrey of Bouillon ; the Museum with 
 a brilliant fresco in the pediment; the outskirts of the fine Park; the 
 King's Palace; Chamber of Representatives and Residences of Foreign 
 Ministers; a beautiful monument commemorating the Revolution of 
 1831, and the magnificent, new Bourse — of white marble, which is 
 going to be one of the finest things in the world. This drive termi- 
 nated by setting us down at the station for Waterloo, and on alighting 
 from the cars we rode for some distance on the outside of an immense 
 omnibus before reaching the Battle-field. A very jovial, English gen- 
 tleman had told us in Antwerp, that the Panorama of Waterloo (in 
 that, city) was a thousand times better than the Field itself, and at his 
 instigation we went, and were very much astonished and instructed by 
 
MY Journal in foreign lands. 93 
 
 the exhibition. From a circular gallery we stood and looked out on 
 the complicated scene of-action. For a certain distance real objects 
 prevailed; real canon, stones, roads, grass, bushes, plaster figures clothed 
 in tbe identical costumes with real bayonets, &c, plaster horses gen- 
 uinely caparisoned. After this the picture took up the representation, 
 but we could not detect just where the one faded into the other. The 
 French and the English were rushing at each other across a dreadful 
 ditch, the former on horseback, the latter on foot. Wellington was on 
 horseback in the midst of his men, but much nearer the enemy than we 
 could believe that he actually came. Napoleon was at a respectable 
 distance, on horseback with a few of his marshals. The Prussians 
 were in a solid body of infantry on. the right in the dim distance. 
 There was a great deal more irregular, individual fighting than I had 
 supposed ever occurred. Well, when on the actual field we did our 
 best to people it with these various objects, but could not succeed to 
 my satisfaction, the country being covered with prosaic fields of corn, 
 wheat, &c. The great object of interest here is the Lion Mount — a 
 vast mound of earth under which lie the bodies of friends and foes, and 
 on top of Avhich is a grand, colossal lion of cast iron. At a little 
 distance there is a Column to the Officers of the German Legion. The 
 guides and the people who live here seem to be as much interested as 
 if the battle occurred yesterday. We returned with the opinion that 
 one visit to Waterloo would do for a life-time. After dinner we at- 
 tended a musical and dramatic entertainment, but I did not like it, 
 and withdrew as soon as possible. To-day has been the day of days for 
 Brussels, for we visited the Hotel de Ville. It is said that there is no 
 square in Europe which has remained unchanged through so long a 
 period as the Grand Place. Here one can tread the very spot on which 
 Horn and Egmont were brought out to die; and, looking around, see 
 the very objects their eyes beheld. The Hotel de Ville is a magnificent 
 Gothic building, covered with sculptured figures, and thoroughly in 
 keeping with the age which it represents. Going in, we passed through 
 the Throne Room, where were crowned Charles V., VI. and VII. It is 
 hung with tapestries, the ceiling is handsomely painted, and there are 
 numerous chairs and benches covered with red velvet. In the halls we 
 saw portraits of Charles II., of Spain, with a very effeminate face; 
 Maria Theresa on horseback ; Mary of Burgundy swearing to observe 
 the privileges of Brussels; Jean IV., Duke of Brabant, granting the 
 rights of Burgomaster to the plebs. We went in the Banqueting Hall, 
 in which on the eve of Waterloo there was "heard a sound of revelry 
 by night," and found some beautifully carved wood work, in another 
 Hall saw bright, new Mechlin Tapestry in panels of separate figures 
 typifying the trades, arts, &c. The "Marriage Boom" is a little chapel 
 with its walls and rafters covered with Butch and Flemish proverbs, 
 
04 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 apothegms, &c. This visit lias been one of the greatest treats through 
 out our entire trip. 
 
 Paris, Thursday, August 2nd. — To be confronted by so many fa- 
 miliar sights, when our eyes have long grown accustomed only to the 
 new and strange, is a delight that Ave cannot expatiate on enough. 
 Having reserved our most important sight seeing for this last trip, we 
 devoted our first day to Versailles. On the way Ave expected to take 
 in Sevres, but, arriving some twenty or thirty minutes before the hours 
 of admittance, were denied entrance, and instantly made up our minds 
 that we could get on very well without it, having seen the grandest 
 specimens in the Vatican, &c. The sylvan beauty of the Park of Ver- 
 sailles cannot be exaggerated by pen or pencil. As far as the eye can 
 penetrate sweep the smooth, wide roads, and the lofty trees intertwin- 
 ing their branches form an arched covering with a. perspective that re- 
 minds one of all the lyric poems most prized, compressed and embodied 
 in visible form. We first alighted at the Grand Trianon. 1 was sur- 
 prised to find it consist of but a single story, but the breadth quite 
 compensates for the height, and gives space for an endless number of 
 apartments. But these are now almost denuded of furniture, and 
 there are but few noticable works of art. Mine, de Maintenon's coach 
 is one of the most interesting relics. It looks like an old arm chair 
 with a little board for the feet in front, and a glass door. There were 
 fine paintings of herself, Louis XIV., XV. and XVI., their clocks, can- 
 delabra and statuettes. We were then ushered into the Royal Carriage 
 House, and, though Ave have seen the gorgeous coaches of the Vatican, 
 Hotel de Cluny, &.c, Ave could not repress astonishment at these marvels 
 of magnificence. The finest of all is that made for the coronation of 
 Charles X. The brilliant gilding is as fresh as if just finished, and 
 there are symbolical figures, emblems, &c, all in the same gilding^ 
 while the interior is lined with the richest, white satin. This coach 
 was used again at the baptism of the Prince Imperial. Napoleon's 
 coach is next in grandeur, and there was another, called the Wedding 
 coach, that excited much admiration. There were several odd Russian 
 sleighs here, looking but little larger than our boys' coasting sleds with 
 a griffin or a panther emerging from the dash-board. We entered the 
 great Palace itself by a side entrance. The Royal chapel, near at hand, 
 was the scene of a full-dress wedding, and for a few moments we sur- 
 veyed the dazzling spectacle. The ceiling, gayly painted, contrasts 
 forcibly with the pure Avhite of the Avails, pillars and galleries, and 
 the beauty and fashion of the city of Versailles were evidently displayed 
 on this occasion. The music, too, was very brilliant, but it seemed as 
 if the ceremony would never be completed, and Ave left them in statu 
 cpio. The magnificent Picture Gallery into which Versailles has been 
 transformed stands without a rival. Here the whole history of France, 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN' LANDS. 95 
 
 from the time of Dagobert, Meroveus and Clovis to Napoleon III., is 
 unrolled in a series of the grandest, historical paintings that the world 
 has ever seen. I will endeavor not to mention too many. The Con- 
 secration of Charles VII. at Rheims, in which Joan, in her suit of mail, 
 and with a holy joy illuminating her wan features, is the most promi- 
 nent figure, is a splendid scene. Death of Gaston de Foix at Bavenna 
 shows all the honors of the fierce carnage and the piteous fate of the 
 young warrior. Of course, there are numerous pictures in which St. 
 Louis, the good Louis XII. and the beloved Henry IV. figure. St. 
 Louis dying on his last Crusade, outside of Jerusalem, with his faithful 
 Joinville bending over his pallet, is a very touching and beautifully 
 depicted scene. Louis XII. dispensing bread to the poor during a ter- 
 ribly severe winter, and Henry IV. before Paris were equally good. 
 The series relating to the Crusades was very fascinating. Procession 
 of the Crusaders around Jerusalem, Baldwin I. crowned Emperor of 
 Constantinople, Capture of Jerusalem, Godefroy de Bouillon crossing 
 tin- Bosphorns, &c, &c., were magnificent illustjations of this brilliant 
 ami romantic period. The number of halls illustrating the life of Na- 
 poleon was simply infinite, until at last it became irritating to catch 
 sight of'- Le General Bonaparte." The most interesting of these rep- 
 resented Napoleon, having just been wounded in the foot, in the act of 
 mounting his horse. His bare foot had been bandaged by the devoted 
 people standing around, and his whole person was just as handsome as 
 possible. The most beautiful room devoted to his apotheosis contains 
 two immense pictures opposite each other; the one entitled the Coro- 
 nation of Josephine, the other, the Army's Oath to the Emperor after 
 the distribution of eagles in the Champ dN Mars. Everyone knows 
 what a truly queenly woman Josephine was, but her majesty, dignity 
 and grace as she here bends her beautiful head to receive the Imperial 
 coronet cannot be described.. In the centre of the room is Vela's 
 wonderful work — Napoleon dying — in white marble, and identical 
 with that in the Corcoran Art Gallery. At the four corners of the 
 room are exquisite, colossal vases of Sevres poreelaine, which were pre- 
 sented to Napoleon by the city of Paris. In a series of apartments, 
 called the '-Attic of the North," are treasured many veritable portraits 
 of an inexchangable value. The faces of Petrarch, Dante, Chris- 
 tina of Sweeden and Mine, de Sevigne were among the most noticable. 
 In the Gallery of Battles there is one picture before which every 
 American must pause — the Capture of Yorktown, 1781. Washing- 
 ton's familiar face is a welcome sight to our strained eyes and weary 
 brains — for it was no light task to try to recall even a small proportion 
 of these scenes. But I will not stop longer over the long list of paint- 
 ings jotted down as worthy of comment, but pass on to the Historical 
 rooms. The little apartments of Marie Antoinette remain unchanged 
 
Ofi MY JOURNAL IS FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 since she fled on the 6th of October, 1789. They are tiny, indeed, six 
 in number, the one opening into the other like a long, narrow hall, 
 Onr attention was called to a number of mirrors in an alcove, covering 
 walls and ceiling. The glass in the ceiling consisted of several pieces 
 joined together, and, looking up from a certain point, one con Id see 
 his or her body bereft of its head, it is said that Marie Antoinette be- 
 holding herself headless in this way predicted that she would be de- 
 capitated. The little book cases, sofas, clocks, ike, of these rooms are 
 very pretty, but everything is plain and simple. The Chamber of 
 Louis XIV. has been unmolested. Here is the bed in which he died, 
 covered with "cloth of gold, " while on each side hangs a "Holy Fam- 
 ily, " the one by a Flemish, the other by an Italian painter, and below 
 the latter a medallion in wax of Louis XIV., one of the most curious 
 and life-like things imaginable. Le Grande Galerie, looking out on the 
 great fountains and garden, is adorned with scenes in the life of 
 le Grand Monarque. It was here that he had his throne, and from be- 
 ing the scene of voluptuous festivity, it came to be that in which King 
 William, of Prussia, formally assumed the title of German Emperor. 
 The wilderness of statuary here is of subordinate interest. As there 
 are pictures, so there are statues of every great Frenchman that eve 1 ' 
 lived. Among the most, remarkable are " Le Comte de Beaujolais " (a 
 refined, noble and beautiful countenance) by Pradier; Jeanne d' Arc 
 as a peasant girl, with a serene and lofty expression, by the Princess 
 Marie, of Orleans ; the bas-relief of Louis XIV. on horseback by Coyse- 
 vox, a magnificent work, and the group of Literary Men. Among fan- 
 ciful representations, Pradier's 'I hree Graces is the most beautiful. 
 As a general thing I can get my expectations up to a very high point, 
 and I certainly expected a great deal of Versailles, but, as compared to 
 the reality, my expectations were as "moon-light unto sun-light." It 
 would take many months to m.tke a satisfactory tour of this vast mu- 
 seum. On our return we passed through St. Cloud, and saw all that 
 now remains of the grand, old Chateau. Its situation, near Mont Va- 
 lerien's wooded heights and the Arcadian Seine, is one of fine effect and 
 beauty. We have devoted nearly the whole of to-day to the Louvre. 
 Going at once to the S.ilon Carre, we reveled in the glorious works 
 here displayed to the very best advantage. Raphael's St. Michsel van- 
 quishing the Devil is one of the grandest. It seems that perpetual 
 youth is inseparable from the conception of angelic strength and might, 
 and here the dark-haired Archangel of super-human grace and beauty 
 is in the very act of trampling on the frightful and repulsive Dragon. 
 Here, also, is the finest Murillo that we have seen. It is called the 
 Virgin of Seville, but consists of several figures. The sweet and per- 
 fectly natural, young Virgin holds the Infant Saviour standing on her 
 knee, while St. Elizabeth with her own dark-eyed boy sits near, as if 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 97 
 
 holding sweet converse. Through the breaking clouds above are seen 
 the head, shoulders and arms of the Almighty Father letting loose the 
 pure white dove, emblem of the Holy Spirit, which pauses above the 
 head of the unconscious Child. There are works here by every great 
 artist, many of which are duplicates or reproductions of the best Italian 
 paintings. But in one long hall there are twenty-two large pictures 
 by Eubens that are very unlike any others. They represent the chec- 
 quered existence of Marie de Medici in Allegory. The great forms, 
 superabundant life and colors that are peculiar to this artist fascinate 
 and enchain every passer by. Some of the French works are very fine, 
 especially Claude's •' Ulysses restoring Chryseis to her father;" Jou- 
 venet's Christ driving the Money-changers from the Temple, and Feast 
 in Simon's House; Mignard's Neptune offering his wealth to France, 
 and Poussin's Blind Men of Jericho. Besides the statues which we 
 saw before were the Borghese Hermaphrodite, the Lycian Apollo, the 
 Tiber, a winged Victory, Minerva with the collar, the Borghese Mars, 
 Hercules and Telephus, the Venus of Aries, the Boy and Goose, Hy- 
 gisea and Esculapius. 
 
 Friday, August 3rd. — This has been a very busy and eventful day. 
 We started out early this morning and drove to the Arc de 1' Etoile to 
 give those who wished it the opportunity to make the ascent. As we 
 have had several fine views of Paris, I preferred to reserve my strength 
 for other things. Another opportunity to enter the Madeleine was 
 welcomed by all. We had time to notice the colossal statues of Ste. 
 Clothilde, St. Joseph, Madonna and Child, St. Augustin, Baptism of 
 Christ, and Betrothal of Mary and Joseph. The Palace of the Lux- 
 embourg was our next destination. The Jardin is laid out beautifully, 
 and the exterior presents the same imposing and splendid appearance 
 which characterizes all the public buildings of Paris. As the Senate 
 was m session here, we could not make the tour of the Eoyal apart- 
 ments, but wandered at leisure through the Museum of Modern Art. 
 Among the finest paintings were : The Exiles of Tiberius — the wretch- 
 edly unhappy creatures transported by water, giving a last, long look 
 towards their native land, — the body of St. Cecilia carried in the Cat- 
 acombs ; Cormon's Cain fleeing from the presence of God and man > 
 Psyche, as an angelic, young girl, returning from the Inferno; an Oath 
 in the first days of Rome — the fierce Confederates pledging each other 
 in the blood of a human victim, — Virgil, Horace and Varius at the 
 house of Macenas ; Truth as a nude and lovely woman bearing a torch 
 in- her hand ; Eouget Delisle singing for the first time the " Marsel- 
 laise" in the house of Dietrich, Mayor of Strassbourg; the Last Day of 
 Corinth, one of the saddest scenes imaginable, and Eosa Bonheur's 
 Ploughing in Winter. The collection of sculpture was a splendid il- 
 lustration of the uselessness of the attempt to revive an art that is not 
 
98 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 in keeping with our present civilization. The Gracci in bronze, two 
 fine Victories in bronze, a Bacchante going to the Sacrifice on Mont 
 Citheron, Mercury inventing the Oacluceus and a very few others were 
 all that gave me any pleasure. After lunch we went in the Bourse, 
 and from the gallery looked down upon a number of men as materially 
 transformed as any that Ulysses ever saw. Yelling, screaming and 
 rushing around like mad-men, they appeared bereft of every spark of 
 common-sense, not to mention dignity. Long may the slow pace of 
 progress and the strong arm of men's selfishness spare women the mor- 
 tification of seeing each other engaged in speculation and legalized 
 gambling ! A long drive followed, during which we saw the Column 
 of July on the site of the Bastille, every vestige of which is swept from 
 the face of the earth. The Column is crowned by a gilt figure of the 
 Genius of Liberty. The picturesque old Gates of St. Denis and St. 
 Martin ; the Place Vendome, with its lofty Column crowned by the 
 short, compact figure of Napoleon ; the Champs de Mars, and the Ecole 
 Militaire; the Place Louvois, with its beautiful fountain adorned with 
 bronze women representing the four great Rivers of France; the Fon- 
 taine de Moliere, which, like those of Rome, is built up against a house, 
 and has a grand, bronze figure of Moliere sitting in a niche; the Pal- 
 ace of the Elysee, where President Grevy now resides ; the Eight Co- 
 lossal Statues of women personifying the chief cities of France which 
 adorn the Place de la Concorde ; its grand fountains ; splendid gates ; 
 the six fountains of .the Place d' Etoile ; the Place du Nouvel Opera, 
 which is exactly as the pictures represent it, and the magnificent, new 
 monument to the Glory of the Republic — all these are among the 
 sights that make travelers pronounce Paris the finest city in the world. 
 On arriving at Pere-la-Chaise, we alighted and walked through the 
 famous Cemetery. The tombs are like tiny altars covered over. There 
 is no sign of a grave itself, and each of these chapel-like structures is 
 devoted to an entire family. The coffins are lowered to a very great 
 depth, one being placed on top of the other. There are a few hand- 
 some statues, monuments, &c. ; that of Casimir Perier being the finest 
 we saw. We were fortunate in finding the tombs of Racine, Thiers, 
 Arago, Rossini, Talma, Cousin, La Fontaine, Eugene Scribe, Alfred de 
 Musset, Massena, St. Cyr, Lannes, Lefebre, Kellermann, Lebrun, Pra- 
 dier. Michaud, Visconti, General Foy and, of course, that of Abelard 
 and Heloise. This last is a large, canopied tomb with the dark, stone 
 figures lying side by side on an ample, flat slab raised but a few inches 
 from the ground. Our last ride was to Bnttes Chaumont. The feature 
 of this wonderfully beautiful Park is an island formed of a cragy rock 
 in the middle of a lake, the rock being sixty feet in height. On the 
 summit is a little pavilion, called the Temple of the Sibyl, affording a 
 fine view of the city. 
 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 99 
 
 Saturday, August 4th. — After ;t very lively and delightful shop- 
 ping expedition this morning, we spent the afternoon in the Jardin 
 des Plantes and the Bois de Boulogne. The former is very complete, 
 but not more interesting than similar Collections in our own Country, 
 and we were rather provoked at having spent the time in this way. 
 But, whether in a more appreciative humor or benefited by travel, we 
 found ourselves enthusiastic over the famous old Bois de Boulogne, 
 and this last ride proved the pleasantest of any that we have had here. 
 
 Liverpool, Saturday, August 11th. — We have a few moments here 
 before setting sail and I want to make some kind of a record of our 
 week in London. We crossed the channel with a large and delightful 
 party of Americans, and met friends again at the Midland. On Tues- 
 day morning, after a visit to the Bank in Founder's Court we deter- 
 mined to walk clown Cheapside and see the busy thoroughfare as pedes- 
 trians. There is indeed quite enough to be seen. One of the most 
 striking objects is a clock modeled after that of Strassbourg, only much 
 larger, covering the front of a good sized. house. It possesses six dials 
 showing the respective time at London, New York, Constantinople, 
 St. Petersburg, Berlin and Dublin. Continuing our walk and passing 
 near St. Paul's we could not resist the temptation to go in, and so for 
 the fourth time stood within that simple, yet grand old Basilica. It 
 looked almost plain after the gorgeous Churches of the Continent. We 
 noticed a new monumental slab with bas-relief erected since our last 
 visit. The monuments of Nelson and Sir Joshua Eeynolds are the 
 most attractive works here to me. The exterior of St. Paul's is now 
 reduced to a state of inky blackness by the smoke and weather; but 
 still it stands, a glorious pile and a mighty witness in the midst of one 
 of London's busiest centres. At Ludgate Hill we took the Bus and 
 finally arrived at the Midland. After dinner four of us set out for 
 Mine. Tussalfd's Exhibition of Wax Works, which is universally con- 
 sidered one of the sights of the Metropolis. The halls were so thronged 
 and crowded that it was almost impossible to wedge one's way around. 
 An orchestra discoursed mediocre music, but the figures absorbed all 
 interest. There is an endless array of notable people, past and 
 present; all are dressed in most magnificent satin-brocades, laces 
 and velvets and the beauty and gorgeousness of these alone would 
 repay a visit here. In the first large hall, on a separate plat- 
 form, the entire Royal Family of England are gathered together, 
 and one cannot but enjoy this close and daring inspection of 
 royalty. The Queen herself was evidently modeled many years ago 
 and her age is not proportioned to that of her children, but this Avould 
 be an interesting family in any circumstances. Another group consists 
 of Henry VIII., and all his wives, Edward VI., a lovely, delicate boy, 
 Mary, Elizabeth and others. We could not make ourselves believe that 
 
100 MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 this was a good portrait of Bloody Mary, it was so mild, good-looking 
 and rather dreamy. Mary of Scots was perfectly beautiful, Luther, an 
 enormous man, lifting up his hand as if preaching, Knox a very severe 
 and gloomy creature. Marie Antoinette seated, with her two children 
 standing by her, formed a lovely group. Louis XVI. was a stout, rubi- 
 cund, farmer-like looking man. Those most gorgeously dressed were 
 the Dukes of Cambridge, Kent and York, the Princess Charlotte, 
 George III. and the Empress of Russia — a beautiful, attractive and 
 thoroughly regal-looking woman. Penetrating farther we saw the 
 camp-bed on which Napoleon died, his traveling carriage and many of 
 his personal possessions; also the very Guillotine on which Marie An- 
 toinette and Louis XVI. were executed. I did not know before that 
 the victim was obliged to lie down in order to be guillotined. Time 
 fails me to recount more of the many curious things we saw here. 
 
 Wednesday was devoted to a very delightful tour of Oxford. We 
 first made our way to Christ Church, the Cathedral of the diocese. It 
 is one of the loveliest churches we have seen. The roof of fretted stone, 
 the bright and beautiful painted windows, the oak pulpit, the quaint 
 carved wood and iron work in the choir, and above all, the tomb and 
 relics of St. Frideswide, render it just as ideal as the imagination can 
 picture it. Here, too, is buried the Pusey family, but no new stone or 
 slab marks the last resting place of the greatest of the name. The Li- 
 brary of Christ Church is very nice, and besides books, possesses quite 
 a collection of Italian paintings, which, however valuable, have the ap- 
 pearance of being "left over" from other collections. In passing through 
 Canterbury "Quad." we saw the rooms formerly occupied by the Prince 
 of Wales and Prince Leopold. After the German Universities, all the 
 Colleges here look so tiny that one feels inclined to believe it is all a 
 play. We went in the dming-room of Merton ; the light wood-work 
 and portraits make it quite attractive, but the seats at table are benche s 
 without backs, and on a little platform at the head of the room stands 
 a lectern, evidently for instruction during meals. We went in the 
 Chapels of Merton, Oriel, Corpus-Christi, Magdelen, All Souls and 
 New College. There is a strong family likeness, almost every one hav- 
 ing a magnificent reredos reaching from floor to ceiling, of a creamy 
 white stone, and some of these have as many as thirty figures finely 
 sculptured. Just outside of Magdalen we enjoyed seeing the avenue 
 known as "Addison's Walk." There are grand old trees on each side, 
 and it borders on one of the astonishingly small rivers, rendered famous 
 by the University. The cloisters of Magdalen and All Souls are very 
 beautiful, and the lawns here reach a point of perfection that I have 
 never seen elsewhere. The new Examination Hall is a handsome build- 
 ing. It is adorned with a stair-case and several exquisite pillars of 
 Italian marble. The halls are spacious and contain nothing but chairs 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 101 
 
 and clocks. One of them is known as the "Torture room," because it 
 is that in which every student on entering is examined alone. The ex- 
 terior of University College looks ancient enough to support any theory 
 of its having been founded by Alfred the Great. It is quite black and 
 worn, crumbled, broken and defaced to a serious extent. There was 
 nothing so interesting here as the Bodliean Library and Museum. Oh, 
 how one is carried through all the ups and downs of English History 
 by these ancient surroundings and curious relics ! Here we saw Miles 
 Coverdale's Bible; an illustrated Bible printed by Schaeffer himself, the 
 Latin Exercise books of Queen Elizabeth and Edward VI., with the sen- 
 t3nces printed very neatly indeed; here also were a pair of gloves that 
 were presented to Queen Elizabeth on some auspicuous occasion, the 
 very old Lantern Avith which Guy Fawkes tried to blow up Parliament, 
 and the signatures of Queen Victoria and the Eoyal family. We might 
 have seen many more interesting things here had not exhaustion ren- 
 dered us incapable of taking one more step. 
 
 On Thursday we visited the Houses of Parliament. The entrance 
 hall is very lofty and imposing, and contains windows of fine stained 
 glass. Ascending a few steps and making a turn we entered a corri- 
 dor adorned with white marble statues of Fox, Pitt, Chatham, Burke, 
 Somers, Selden and Mansfield. The next waiting-room is circular, and 
 doors and corridors open on every side. Here there is a fine statue of 
 the late Lord Eussell. One of our party had a letter of introduction 
 to an M. P. — a Mr. Kane — whose leading characteristic was that he 
 was a warm friend and admirer of Americans. After waiting a long 
 time he appeared and proved very genial and pleasant. Leading us 
 through narrow corridors lined with queer old pictures, with such sub- 
 jects as Alice Lisle with Charles L, Jane Lee helping Charles II. t 
 escape, Parting of Lord and Lady Russell, Setting Out of the Pilgrims, 
 &c, he conducted us to the Eoyal Hall, in which the lords assemble to 
 await the Queen's appearance on great occasions. It contains two im- 
 mense paintings — one of the Battle of Waterloo, and the subject of the 
 other has slipped my memory. We passed th rough the Committee 
 Rooms, the Dining Booms, the Libraries, in one of which my sister 
 recognized Mr. Bradlaugh, from a resemblance to his wax figure at 
 Mme. Tussaud's, and finally reached the House of Lords. On entering, 
 the gentlemen were held back in a little railed-off corner, but we ladies 
 were taken a little further and given very comfortable seats. Every- 
 thing here seems very small, compared to our spacious Capitol. The 
 walls and ceiling of this hall are as handsome as they are described to 
 be, but the poor Peers are obliged to sit on benches covered with some 
 slippery stuff, and having no desks, stools, or support of any kind, they 
 loll and fall around in the most undignified and unlordly manner pos- 
 sible. This same uncomfortableness, doubtless, leads them to keep 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN" LANDS. 
 
 their hats on and be as ungentlemanly as they can. The barristers, in 
 their flowing gowns and curly wigs, looked so funny that it will be 
 very hard for us ever to associate them with anything serious. The 
 wool-sack in the middle of the room was so covered as to be quite in- 
 conspicuous. We ladies were also allowed a glance into the House of 
 Commons, though none of us could enter the hall itself We were per- 
 mitted to stand on the outside and look through a large pane of glass 
 forming the side of a door. Mr. Gladstone had just left a few minutes 
 before. The appearance of the men here was more prepossessing and 
 interesting. On coming out, with one consent we all rushed into the 
 Abbey for a last look; and as I have discovered that it is only those 
 possessed of the facts and data who can find specific objects in such 
 places, I got my sister 1ST. (who has made a specialty of English litera- 
 ture) to take me at once to the most important spots. We stood on 
 Chaucer's slab, and looked around on those of Ben Jonson, Spenser, 
 Beaumont, Matthew Prior, Gray, Shadwell, Milton, Sou they, Samuel 
 Butler, Mrs. Pritchard. and Campbell, and in other parts saw those of 
 Canning and Warren Hastings. The Abbey appeared far grander, 
 graver and more fascinating than on our first visit. Stamped with the 
 seal of a nation's love and piety, it makes one think of the words, "Pray 
 for the peace of Jerusalem ; they shall prosper that love thee." 
 
 Atlantic Ocean, R. M. S. "Scythta," August 16th. — This is the 
 evening of the sixth day at sea and the very first opportunity I have had 
 to write a line. We have had a terribly rough passage until to-day,when 
 the sun broke through the heavy clouds, a light and propitious breeze 
 sprang up and everyone rushed on deck as if wild with delight. There 
 we have been lying out in our steamer chairs and drinking in the 
 beauty of the dark-blue ocean dotted here and there with its foamy 
 spray, and the glad bright sky, bending lovingly over it, as if shadow- 
 ing forth the very perfection of reciprocal affection. We have had 
 some nice little chats in the intervals of reading and reverie, and it has 
 been a day to call forth heart-felt gratitude. Of course we- feel this 
 more because of the contrast presented by the previous days. We 
 started out from Queenstovvn with "head" winds, and on Monday, while 
 on deck, we could see the ship dive right down, into the sea, and as it 
 rose again, the waves stood up like mountains. That night it grew 
 stormier and rougher until we found that sleep was out of the ques- 
 tion. Every movable thing in the room began to roll around; even 
 the heavy steamer-trunk that can scarcely be coaxed to move by the 
 appliance of severe physical strength glided from beneath one berth 
 to the opposite one, while combs, brushes, hair-pins, books and tum- 
 blers sprang around as if possessed by evil spirits. Our stewardess 
 informed me that I was the only lady on this floor who rose for break- 
 fast on Tuesday morning. 
 
 
MY JOURNAL IN FOREIGN LANDS. 103 
 
 Tuesday, Aug, 22. — Last night Mr. Barker, an English manager of 
 a theatre, his wife and their special friends, gave a very nice concert. 
 There are a great many more English than Americans on board, and 
 we are a very sociable company. We, ourselves, have made quite a 
 number of friends, and among others, Sir Arthur Hobhouse, K. C S. 
 I., who is making his first visit to our country, and is a very wide- 
 awake old gentleman. And now we have seen land and expect to tread 
 our ''native heath" early to-morrow morning. I do not feel that this 
 is any more the end than the beginning of our wonderful trip, for the 
 materials for retrospect, study and thought loom up as inexhaustible, 
 revivifying and a perpetual delight. And I cannot understand hoAv 
 any American returns from the Old World with other than feelings of 
 profound gratitude for the goodness and the grace that smiled upon the 
 circumstances of his birth, and gave gifts, privileges and powers that 
 never seem so grand as when contrasted with those of any other favored 
 spot earth can afford. 
 
1*1 
 
 K 716