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 PROFESSOR OP MENTAL, TEHOSQEHT Zc.lN BOWDQM 
 
 - 
 
LETTERS 
 
 ESTHETIC, SOCIAL, AND MORAL, 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ESTINE. 
 
 BY a? 
 
 / 
 
 THOMAS C. UPHAM, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF MENTAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN JBOWDOIN COLLEGE. 
 
 PRIVATE EDITION, 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 BRUNSWICK: 
 
 FROM THE PRESS OP J. GRIFFIN 
 
 1855. 
 
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1855. 
 
 ^ 
 

 h C 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I have assented to the wishes of a few friends, and al- 
 lowed this small edition of four hundred copies of these 
 letters to be published. I have no personal preferences to 
 gratify, either in publishing or withholding. But I cannot 
 at present persuade myself, that they would be likely to 
 possess any special interest beyond a very limited circle. 
 
 The letters will, for the most part, explain their own his- 
 tory. It will not be necessary, therefore, to go into de- 
 tails here. I should do injustice, however, to my feelings, 
 if I did not refer in a few words to my fellow-travellers, 
 Rev. Mr. Thompson, and Mr. and Mrs. Walcott. Mr. 
 Thompson is the pastor of the Tabernacle church in New 
 York. I had previously known him in America ; and it 
 was with pleasure I met him in London. Mr. Thompson 
 is the Editor of' the popular and able religious paper, the 
 
 Independent ; and is the author of a number of valuable 
 1# 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 works. Since his return from his travels, he has published 
 an interesting and well written volume on Egypt. With- 
 out saying anything of its high literary merits, I can ven- 
 ture, from having been with him in all the places which he 
 visited in that country, to bear testimony to the strict ac- 
 curacy of its details. It was chiefly through his encourage- 
 ment and aid, that I was enabled to pursue my journey. 
 
 Mr. Walcott, whom I also met in London, is the 
 founder and owner of a large manufacturing establish- 
 ment near Utica, N. Y., known as the " New York Mills." 
 Around this establishment there has grown up a large 
 and beautiful village. The operatives, many of whom are 
 from foreign countries, experience from Mr. W. a friendly 
 and judicious interest in their welfare, which more than 
 satisfies all their reasonable expectations ; and he has thus 
 laid the foundation of a sincere and permanent friendship. 
 The public and joyous reception, which his operatives and 
 others gave him on his return from his long travels, was an 
 evidence both of their strong attachment, and of the per- 
 sonal virtues which have given rise to it. In these feel- 
 ings Mrs. Walcott, who was also the much respected and 
 valued companion of our travels, is a full sharer. I could 
 say much of the kindness which I received from these high- 
 ly esteemed friends, but am restrained from feelings of deli- 
 cacy ; and will only add my earnest desire, that they may 
 long experience in their own persons the happiness which 
 they have been the means of communicating to others. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Nearly all the letters were first published, as they were 
 Written, in the Congregationalist, a well known and able 
 religious newspaper issued at Boston. And I wish here to 
 express my obligations to its editors and publishers, for the 
 kindness I have received from them. As to the letters 
 themselves, it will be enough perhaps to say here that they 
 were written for the most part in ill health and under un- 
 favorable circumstances. If they have any merits, which 
 must be left to others to decide, they are certainly not free 
 from imperfections. And this will be some excuse for lim- 
 iting their circulation. With these few words I leave them 
 in the hands of those, whose kindness, I am confident, will 
 go far in disarming criticism. 
 
 Thomas C. Upham. 
 Brunswick, Maine, 
 
 March 24, 1855. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Letter from the Ocean 13 19 
 
 Letters from England 19 — 133 
 
 Letters from France 133 — 161- 
 
 Letters from Savoy and Italy 162 — 253 
 
 Letters from Egypt 253—330 
 
 Letters from the desert of Sinai and Gaza 331 — 412 
 
 Letters from Palestine • . 412 — 564 
 
 On the religious uses of travel 564 — 585 
 
hp rn ti t 
 
 R 
 j it v. 
 
LETTERS 
 
 ESTHETIC, SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 (I-) 
 
 New York bay — The steamship — Remarks on the character of the 
 passengers — The merchant from Buenos Ayres — The lady from 
 Missouri — Relation of woman to home — Lines to my wife. 
 
 AT SEA, STEAMSHIP ARCTIC, SEPT. 25, 1852. 
 
 We sailed from New York for Liverpool on Sat- 
 urday, the 18th of September, in the steamship Arctic, 
 Captain Luce commander. The day was bright and 
 beautiful. As the majestic steamer sailed down the 
 broad and noble Hudson, a magnificent scene presen- 
 ted itself. The wide expanse of water which opened 
 to view, the hills and woods of Hoboken, the ship- 
 ping and the spires of Jersey City, the Battery and 
 Castle Garden, the mighty throng of masts in the 
 East River, the splendid residences and churches of 
 Brooklyn, the frowning fortifications, the boats pass- 
 ing and repassing amid the shipping that floated lazily 
 in the river and in the New York bay, formed a group 
 of unsurpassed beauty and magnificence. In a few 
 hours we crossed the bay of New York, passed 
 through the Narrows, and were moving swiftly over 
 the broad ocean. 
 2 
 
14 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 i 
 
 The introduction of the steamship, in itself and in 
 its relations, constitutes an event of no small moment 
 in the history of man. It is not only an indication of 
 the progress of the arts and of the extension of com- 
 merce, but of the advancement of civilization. Those 
 who first discovered the uses and applications of 
 steam, and those who by their expanded thought and 
 generous efforts have secured its highest practical re- 
 sults, have deserved and won the gratitude of men. 
 Why should not the names of Collins and of Cunard, 
 in their appropriate place and degree, be associated 
 on the pages of history with the memorable name of 
 Fulton ? 
 
 Every thing which exists or takes place not only 
 has its history but its teachings, but the lesson which 
 it reveals will be differently read and interpreted by 
 different minds. The steamship carries not merely 
 merchandise, but men ; a congregation, or if you pre- 
 fer it, a cargo of human hearts, each of which has 
 strong and often tender ties, reaching in every direc- 
 tion. Other persons will read different lessons on 
 board the steamship, as it thus carries forth its pre- 
 cious load of immortal beings ; but that which I read 
 first and with very deep interest was the great lesson 
 on social humanity- The great problems of sociality 
 — its foundation, its infinitely varied ties, its mighty 
 strength — were forcibly illustrated by the occurrences 
 which presented themselves. 
 
 On the very afternoon of our departure, as I was 
 walking alone on the deck, I encountered a gentleman, 
 whose manners and intelligent countenance arrested 
 my attention. We entered into conversation. Ask- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 15 
 
 ing me of what country I was, I told him I was an 
 American ; and in reply to the same interrogation put 
 to himself, he said he was a Dane. Pleased to find 
 one who was ready to converse and to yield him his 
 confidence, he sat down with me and told me his his- 
 tory. He left his native country at an early period, 
 and for more than twenty years had been a merchant 
 in Buenos Ayres. He gave me the history of Rosas, 
 whose remarkable but bloody administration of that 
 country is so well known. He knew him well, and 
 expected to meet him in England. But, said he, I 
 am going home ; back to my native land, back to the 
 enjoyment of early ties and early associations. My 
 mother still lives. I have closed my commercial re- 
 lations in Buenos Ayres. Having business in the 
 United States, and wishing to see the people of a 
 nation so remarkable, I came this way ; but I have 
 sent my wife and children to the place of our future 
 residence, by another and more direct route. After a 
 life of toil and exposure, I wish to spend the remain- 
 der of my days in peace, in the bosom of my family. 
 He then took from his pocket a beautiful daguerreo- 
 type of his wife, and another of his three children, 
 two beautiful daughters and his little boy, whom the 
 artist had placed between them, and showed them to 
 me ; and we gazed upon them together. And I could 
 not help saying to myself, as I saw the strong emo- 
 tions working in his countenance, How sacred are the 
 relations of family ! How strong and wonderful are 
 those ties, which God has implanted in our nature ! 
 
 But this was only one of many similar instances 
 wliich came under my notice. Strangers on board an 
 
16 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 Atlantic steamer, and standing in need of each other's 
 aid and sympathy, soon get acquainted. A lady was 
 pointed out to my notice, who had come from the 
 State of Missouri. Her story, as I understood it, 
 partly from her own lips, was this. Her husband was 
 a military man, and some years since, in some of the 
 revolutionary movements in Germany, held the rank 
 of captain. Experiencing reverses, they had fled to 
 America, and established themselves on a farm in 
 Missouri. Even now it would be dangerous for her 
 husband to return ; and hence she was travelling with 
 her three little children, unattended and unprotected 
 by their father, on this long journey of four thousand 
 miles, that she might see once more in her native land 
 the face of her parents and brothers. 
 
 The mighty principle of family love, stronger per- 
 haps than any other in our nature, operates in a great 
 variety of directions. Sometimes, in consequence of 
 the variety of its objects, it becomes antagonistical to 
 itself, and has the effect to separate very near friends, 
 and to lead the objects of it into distant lands. On 
 board of our vessel was an American lady, estimable 
 for every virtue, who was leaving her native land and 
 its many pleasant associations and joys, in order to 
 take up a permanent residence in Scotland. I had 
 known her in our own country ; had been well ac- 
 quainted with her parents while they lived, and her 
 brothers and sisters, who are still living ; and could not 
 therefore be ignorant, how much she suffered, and how 
 much she sacrificed in fulfilling her purpose. I asked 
 her one day why she did not take a different course, 
 and permit her husband to go abroad, and transact his 
 

 SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 17 
 
 business without her. Her answer, disinterested as it 
 was beautiful, was, that undoubtedly her husband 
 would consent to such a course, but that she could 
 not bear to see him spend his life in labor without 
 the consolations of a home. In this generous answer 
 I recognized the expression of a great truth, which 
 seems to me to have a close connection with man's 
 happiness. It is, that man without woman has not, 
 and cannot have a home. He may fyave a place, a lo- 
 cality, a country perhaps ; but a home, the resting-place 
 of hopes and desires, the locality of the heart's sacred 
 affections, he has not and cannot have, without wo- 
 man. 
 
 And on such a subject could I not speak from my 
 own experience ? Could I be insensible, as I thus 
 left my native land, to the ties which bound me to 
 home and kindred ? "Without professing to be more 
 or less susceptible of affections than others, I am 
 obliged to say, that my heart involuntarily turned to 
 a beloved object in a distant place. Faithful in its 
 homage to its unchanging attachments, it thought of 
 one, who thought of me. I gave expression to my 
 feelings ; but how inadequate is language to embody 
 and give substance to cherished remembrances and 
 affections ! 
 
 The wind has heaved the billow's breast ; 
 
 The ship is rocking on the sea ; 
 And time and tide, that never rest, 
 
 Have brought the destined hour to me. 
 
 2* 
 
18 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 I leave thee, Mary ! Oh, how dear, — 
 None but thyself can ever know. 
 
 Hide from my heart that scalding tear. 
 Unfold thine arms, and let me go. 
 
 Oft on the dark and raging sea, 
 
 Or when in distant lands I roam ; 
 
 My aching heart shall think of thee, 
 
 Think of our dear and cherished home . 
 
 Oceans may roll between ; but never 
 Can rend our mutual souls apart. 
 
 Mountains may rise ; but cannot sever 
 The bond that binds us, heart to heart. 
 
 For lands and oceans have a place, 
 
 And lines and limits gird them round ; 
 
 But love is conqueror of space, 
 
 And lives a life, that knows no bound. 
 
 (ii.) 
 
 Captain of the Arctic — Man an eesthelic as well as social being — On 
 the sublimity of the ocean — Remarks on the subject of beauty 
 and sublimity — The moral effect of the ocean — Poetry. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND, SEPT. 30, 1852. 
 
 When I went on board the steamship, a friend 
 pointed out the commander, Captain L. As the com- 
 mander necessarily embodies in himself, to a consid- 
 erable extent, the destiny of the ship and of those who 
 sail in it, my attention was at once fastened upon the 
 man, who held, as it were, the bond of my life. My 
 judgment of him at that time was of course based 
 upon slight premises ; but I think it will be found 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 19 
 
 correct. He passed silently through the crowd, bow- 
 ing slightly but gracefully to those whom he knew. 
 His firm step indicated habits of command ; but with- 
 out any display. It was obvious to me, that he pos- 
 sesses a mind, which is conscious of no inconsidera- 
 ble resources, but which generally concentrates its ac- 
 tion within itself ; so that he develops what he really 
 is, not so much by words, as by occasions. Moderate 
 in stature, and quiet and unassuming in his general 
 deportment, still there is something in his keen black 
 eye and in his weatherbeaten and sunburnt counte- 
 nance, which indicates that he is abundantly equal 
 both to duty and danger. He may be relied upon as 
 a man, who in those emergencies which test men's 
 characters, will boldly and skillfully fulfill all that he 
 promises. 
 
 As we were about to start, I saw him move to an 
 elevated position above the wheel ; and it was inter- 
 esting to see, how quickly and completely the inward 
 thought or purpose alters the outward man. He stood 
 a few moments silent and thoughtful. He gave a 
 quick glance to every part of the ship. He cast his 
 eye over the multitude coming on board the ship, 
 among whom was the American ambassador to Eng- 
 land, who, if the captain may be said to embody the 
 ship, may be said with equal truth to embody in his 
 official person a nation's rights and a nation's honor. 
 He saw the husbands and the wives, the mothers and 
 the children entrusted to his care ; and his slender form, 
 as he gave the orders for our departure, seemed at once 
 to grow more erect and firm ; the muscles of his face 
 swelled ; his dark eye glowed with a new fire ; and 
 
20 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 his whole person expanded and beautified itself by 
 the power of inward emotion. 
 
 I have often noticed this interesting phenomenon ; 
 and have come to the conclusion, if man or woman 
 wishes to realize the full power of personal beauty, it 
 must be by cherishing noble hopes and purposes ; by 
 having something to do and something to live for, 
 which is worthy of humanity ; and which by expand- 
 ing the capacities of the soul, gives expansion and 
 symmetry to the body which contains it. 
 
 In my last letter I gave the lesson which a voyage 
 on the ocean furnishes on the subject of our social na- 
 ture. But man is an (esthetic, as well as a social 
 being. That is to say, he is not only the subject of 
 those desires and sympathies which are the foundation 
 of his social nature and which bind him in various 
 ways to his fellow man, but is also the subject of 
 emotions; — those emotions which we experience in wit- 
 nessing the great objects and works of art and nature, 
 the emotions of beauty and sublimity. The ocean is 
 spoken of by aesthetic writers as a sublime object. 
 And it must be conceded, if sublimity can properly 
 be ascribed to any object whatever, it would be diffi- 
 cult to find one which has higher claims. I acknowl- 
 edge, that, in relation to this subject, I was desirous 
 to test my own feelings. I remarked to you that we 
 sailed on the eighteenth, which was Saturday ; and, 
 experiencing the common fate of those who are mak- 
 ing their first voyage, I was confined to my room by 
 sickness for some days. On the next Tuesday morn- 
 ing, when we were already far off on the broad Atlan- 
 tic, I went on deck ; and taking a position where I 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 21 
 
 should not be likely to be disturbed, I watched for a 
 long time the vast and wonderful scene before me. 
 There was nothing in sight as far as the eye could 
 reach, but the boundless waters, which were agitated 
 and tossed in every direction by a strong head wind. 
 My soul dilated and swelled with emotion. 
 
 The conception itself was vast — as if there open- 
 ed before me a window of eternity, in the reflection 
 and imaging of which I could behold the infinite of 
 the future ; or as if the mighty and boundless Divini- 
 ty himself had condescended to assume a form, which 
 corresponded in some degree to the infinite of his ex- 
 istence. And this enlarged and mighty conception 
 was followed by a correspondent intensity of feeling 
 in the emotional nature. 
 
 On only two occasions before, have I had the same 
 expansion and intensity of thought and feeling. Many 
 years ago I visited the celebrated mountain region in 
 the northern part of New Hampshire. I succeeded in 
 reaching the top of Mount "Washington, more than 
 six thousand feet above the level of the sea. It was 
 a clear, bright day of July. Not a cloud was upon 
 the sky. And standing on the small rocky platform, 
 which formed the summit of the mountain, I had be- 
 fore me, distinctly visible in every direction, a sixty 
 miles' circuit of thickly wooded and dark forest, not 
 on a plain, but thrown into every variety of moun- 
 tainous position, — a vast, boundless sea of mighty 
 wooded summits, standing side by side, and varying 
 in height from two thousand to four thousand feet. 
 The whole scene was on such a vast scale, that the 
 soul, laboring with thought and emotion, could scarce- 
 
22 
 
 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 ly endure it. The other occasion to which I refer was 
 more recent and different in character. It was a visit 
 to the falls of Niagara. The contemplation of that 
 immense cataract, that world of waters, apparently 
 broken loose and poured out from some higher and 
 unseen world, — a scene in nature so often described, 
 and yet never fully realized and understood except by 
 those who have witnessed it, — constitutes an era in a 
 man's life. He can never forget it ; and in natural 
 scenery he can never again see anything equal to it 
 or like it. The emotions which I experienced on these 
 two occasions, were similar in character, and at least 
 as intense in degree as those, which I now experien- 
 ced on viewing the vast and agitated ocean. 
 
 The development of mind, in connection with situa- 
 tion and action, and in all the various forms in which 
 it takes place, has been a somewhat favorite subject 
 with me. And as I write not merely for the purpose 
 of giving a momentary amusement, but also in the 
 hopes either of imparting some instruction to others 
 or of settling more fully some opinions of my own, 
 I will briefly express my views on some controverted 
 doctrines which have relation to the Sublime and 
 Beautiful. 
 
 And one obvious principle on this interesting sub- 
 ject is this ; — that the beautiful will be found, in all 
 cases, to be the basis of the grand and the sublime. 
 Take the sublime scenes, to which we have referred. 
 The tossing wave of the ocean, for instance, thrown 
 into every variety of position and flashing out in many 
 varieties of color as it rolls in the shade or the sun- 
 shine, is a beautiful object, and nothing more than 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 23 
 
 beautiful. But when the wave is expanded and rais- 
 ed to a great height by the wind, and when wave is 
 added to wave in the multiplications of infinity, it 
 then exhibits an aspect of grandeur or of sublimity. 
 And so in other cases. In a multitude of instances I 
 have endeavored to analyze the foundation of these 
 emotions. And I cannot doubt, that there must be 
 law, order, symmetry, beauty at the bottom ; otherwise 
 there can be nothing which is truly grand or sublime. 
 There is order and truth, there is harmony, although 
 it may perhaps be the violence of harmony, even in 
 the movements of an angry ocean. 
 
 A second remark, which I have to make in relation 
 to some of the controverted topics of aesthetics, is this. 
 The emotions which we are considering, have their 
 foundation in the immutable condition of things, in the 
 constitution and permanencies of nature, and therefore 
 may be spoken of as intrinsic and original ; and are 
 not as some valuable writers seem to suppose, the re- 
 sult of mere association. This opinion, which in my 
 own case is a very decided one, is founded on person- 
 al experience. Previously to the occasions which I 
 have mentioned, I had never ascended the summit of 
 Mount Washington, nor stood at the foot of the cata- 
 ract of Niagara. And in the experience of those strong 
 emotions, which then agitated my breast, what did I, 
 or could I owe to any previous association ? I agree 
 with Alison and Jeffries and other writers, to whom 
 I have alluded, that in many cases much may be as- 
 cribed to the associating principle. But association 
 does not and cannot explain all. It was far, very far, 
 from explaining the mighty revelations of thought and 
 
24 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 feeling, which then crowded upon me. A voice, which 
 I had never heard or known before, came out from the 
 depths of nature, — an utterance which I was confident 
 was not fabricated out of any previous experience by 
 means of some associating process ; but deep, mighty, 
 as if God himself were speaking, it seemed to rush 
 from the immensity of its original hiding place, and 
 to sound from eternity to eternity. 
 
 A third remark, which I wish to make, is this. 
 I cannot agree with Mr. Burke and other writers who 
 think with him, that the true emotion of the sublime 
 is really heightened by conceptions of danger and by 
 feelings of dread. Upon this point also I have taken 
 every favorable opportunity to test my own feelings. 
 But I will mention only one here, which occurred up- 
 on this voyage, and which, therefore, is appropriate in 
 this letter. On Tuesday morning, the 28th of Sep- 
 tember, we came in sight of the coast of Ireland, which 
 arose in a clear sky and dazzling sunlight, fresh and 
 beautiful from the morning wave. Absorbed in the 
 historic associations, which are connected with this 
 celebrated " Isle of the ocean," the hours flew rapidly 
 by, as we passed in succession Cape Clear, the light 
 of Kinsale, the cove of Cork, the city of Waterford, 
 and other places on the coast. In the afternoon we 
 entered the mouth of the Irish or St. George's Chan- 
 nel, and were rapidly approaching the well known 
 point of land, called Holyhead, which is situated on 
 the English side of the channel. We were about 
 sixty-five miles distant from this place, and in a posi- 
 tion which is considered a dangerous one without the 
 aid of a pilot, when suddenly a very violent storm 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 25 
 
 commenced. The rain fell in torrents. The wind blew 
 from the north-east, a full gale, and directly ahead. The 
 sea rolled in terrible fury, in one vast sheet of foam. 
 The vast ship, with all the steam she could bear, made 
 but slow way, as the infuriated waves, rent asunder as 
 they came in terrible contact with the struggling Arc- 
 tic, rushed by on each side, foaming and roaring like 
 a two-fold cataract of Niagara. The storm continu- 
 ed ten hours ; and so violently agitated was the sea 
 that no pilot was able to approach the vessel the next 
 morning until ten o'clock. 
 
 At this time it may well be supposed, we had 
 around us and before us, above and beneath, all the 
 mingling elements, which are understood to furnish 
 occasion for the highest emotions of the sublime. 
 But the result was not such, (and I think it will never 
 be found to be such,) as the sesthetical theories on the 
 subject would lead us to anticipate. That the soul 
 was deeply agitated, is true. But the agitation was 
 not caused exclusively, nor chiefly, by the exercise of 
 a pure and unmixed emotion of sublimity. The si- 
 multaneous discharge of an hundred pieces of cannon 
 in itself considered, is sublime ; but it ceases to be 
 sublime, in the view of a person who is standing with- 
 in range of the balls, because the emotion of sublimi- 
 ty, instead of being increased, is perplexed, and would 
 be likely to be entirely annulled by the sentiment of 
 danger. And it will be so, in a greater or less degree, 
 in every similar case. It was so in the magnificent, 
 but terrific scene which I have attempted to describe. 
 If we had felt perfectly secure, the scene would have 
 been one of unparalled sublimity, but the sense of 
 3 
 
26 LETTERS— -.ESTHETIC, 
 
 danger transferred the action of the mind from the 
 contemplation of the sublime object to the considera- 
 tion of our personal exposure. 
 
 The mistake of writers on the subject is, that they 
 confound things together, which are very unlike. The 
 emotion or rather the passion of fear, if carefully an- 
 alyzed, will be found to be very different from an 
 emotion of grandeur or sublimity. Both, it is true 
 may agitate the soul. But one does it in view of the 
 beauty and greatness of its object ; the other on ac- 
 count of its deformity and hatefulness, or because it 
 causes dread. In order to experience the highest pos- 
 sible emotion of sublimity, there may be an enlarge- 
 ment or intensity of the object to any extent what- 
 ever, but the object thus expanded and intense, must 
 merely occupy the soul with the corresponding ex- 
 pansion and intensity of feeling, without causing per- 
 sonal alarm or any thing else, which might perplex 
 the mind's attention. 
 
 I will only add one remark more. There is a voice 
 in the ocean, which addresses the moral, as well as 
 the emotional and aesthetic nature. In its vastness 
 and its agitations, it has a subduing and devotional 
 effect upon the mind, like that which one experiences 
 who dwells in the midst of the forests, and pointed 
 rocks, and solitary echoes of lofty mountains. It is 
 impossible to look upon it, especially when it is great- 
 ly agitated, without receiving the impression, that 
 there is somewhere in the universe of things, a 
 strength, a substantial greatness, which can have its 
 foundation and be fully realized only in God. And 
 this suggestion of strength in the Infinite is connect- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 27 
 
 ed with the idea, — never brought home so closely be- 
 fore, — of our own feebleness. 
 
 Oh God ! When tost upon the wave, 
 My heart instinctive turns to Thee, 
 
 Thou hast the power to smite or save, 
 The arbiter of destiny. 
 
 Though wide and wild this vast expanse, 
 
 It brings this solace of the soul, — 
 That 'tis not accident or chance, 
 
 Which makes these mighty billows roll. 
 
 'Tis God, who gives the high behest, 
 
 Which makes them fall or makes them rise ; 
 
 Which sinks the caverns in their breast, 
 Or sends them foaming to the skies. 
 
 He guards the sparrow on the shore ; 
 
 He rocks the sea-bird on the sea ; 
 And here, amid the billow's roar, 
 
 Will not my Father think of me ? 
 
 (in.) 
 
 Arrival at Liverpool — Appearance of the city — American ambassador 
 — Death of the duke of Wellington — Emigration to Australia 
 — American books and authors. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND, OCT. 4, 1852. 
 
 We reached Liverpool, "Wednesday, the 29th of 
 September, early in the afternoon. The city ascends 
 gradually from the water, and displays itself advan- 
 tageously ; although the first view gives but an im- 
 perfect idea of its great extent and wealth. The 
 crowded sails in the river Mersey and in the artificial 
 
28 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 docks on the borders of the river, with the passing and 
 repassing of numerous boats in every direction, con- 
 firmed the reputation, which this city has long enjoy- 
 ed for commercial enterprise. In a short time we 
 went on shore. I felt, on stepping for the first time 
 on the soil of England, like the man, who returns after 
 many years' absence, to his father's home. The unity 
 of origin more than counterbalanced the difference of 
 nationality. I had come to my own people, — to the 
 land of my ancestors. 
 
 The growth of Liverpool has been very rapid. The 
 number of its inhabitants in the year 1700 was five 
 thousand. Its population is estimated at the present 
 time at 350.000. As I walked along its wharves and 
 among its crowded streets, everything indicated intel- 
 ligence, boldness of enterprise, and successful activity. 
 Liverpool is a place of commerce rather than of the 
 arts ; and has greater attractions for the merchant and 
 the man of business than for the scholar and the man 
 of artistic taste. It has, however, its valuable philan- 
 thropic and literary institutions ; and a number of well 
 constructed and even elegant public buildings. Among 
 these St. George's Hall and the Exchange are likely 
 to attract the particular attention of strangers. The 
 latter is a building of great size and beauty, well 
 adapted to the purposes of business and of the inter- 
 changes of commerce for which it was erected ; — and 
 may justly be regarded as one of the great centres of 
 the commercial intercourse of the world. In the area 
 of this building is an imposing naval monument, 
 erected in honor of Lord Nelson. 
 
 But I must recur a moment to some other topics, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 29 
 
 which may be better noticed here than elsewhere. 
 Perhaps I ought to say, that in my contemplated and 
 yet uncertain wanderings from place to place, I shall 
 endeavor to keep some record, so far as my health will 
 permit, not only of places and things and of the out- 
 ward man, but of the associations, emotions, and other 
 facts and operations of the human mind. And in say- 
 ing this, I do not mean to exclude my own mind. I 
 have already referred to the powerful effect upon my 
 feelings, produced by a view of the ocean soon after 
 leaving America. And I spoke of this experience as 
 throwing some light, as it seemed to me, on those 
 emotions of the sublime and beautiful, which in works 
 of art and taste are often denominated cesthetic emo- 
 tions. At another time, in the course of our voyage 
 across the Atlantic, I was personally the subject of 
 some mental experiences, which illustrated in a re- 
 markable manner the operations of the human mind 
 in another respect, namely, the workings of the asso- 
 ciating principle. To detail them distinctly would re- 
 quire a letter of some length ; but you shall have them 
 at some future time. I omit to give an account of 
 them now, through fear of forgetting or omitting some 
 incidents, which have given variety and interest to our 
 voyage. 
 
 I have already referred to the fact, that we had on 
 board, the American ambassador to England, Mr. In- 
 gersoll of Philadelphia. I had formed a slight ac- 
 quaintance with this truly excellent and distinguished 
 man many years ago ; and was happy to renew it at 
 this time. Every one found him easy of access, when 
 his health permitted him to be about the ship ; and 
 3* 
 
30 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the day before our arrival in Liverpool, being called 
 upon for that purpose in an appropriate manner, he 
 made a chaste and graceful address in the presence of 
 the passengers and others, which was characterized by 
 kind and patriotic sentiments. 
 
 There is great significancy in the intercourse of na- 
 tions at the present time. It not only indicates the 
 progress of social and international humanity, but is 
 also an index of the intellectual character, and of the 
 political morality and honor of particular nations. 
 And I do not doubt that the American government, 
 in assigning this important embassy to Mr. Ingersoll, 
 has consulted its reputation and honor, as well as its 
 interests. The new American ambassador to the 
 Court of St. James, is not a mere political or party 
 man ; but a scholar in a high and commendable sense 
 of that term, — a man of wide information and culti- 
 vated literary taste. Nothing will be likely to come 
 from his pen, which will discredit the high place 
 which is already assigned to the diplomatic papers of 
 America. 
 
 Mr. Ingersoll was well received in Liverpool, but 
 being met there, even before leaving the Arctic, by 
 letters from Mr. Lawrence, his predecessor in the im- 
 portant office to wdiich he had been appointed, he 
 proceeded almost immediately to London. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence leaves this country with the respect 
 of Englishmen, and with the respect and gratitude of 
 American citizens. Nothing can be more unlike than 
 these two ambassadors. The personal appearance of 
 Mr. Ingersoll, though entirely good, is not of such a 
 marked kind as to attract attention, by distinguishing 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 31 
 
 him, either physically or in dress, from the common 
 mass of men. He is modest, and rather retiring in 
 his manners ; and everything about him indicates the 
 plainest republican citizen ; so much so that I am in- 
 clined to think his great merit must be sought before 
 it is known. He certainly will never proclaim it him- 
 self. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence is differently constituted in all re- 
 spects. He is not a man of a public or liberal edu- 
 cation ; and in matters of literature, of taste, and in 
 the knowledge of civil and political history, must 
 probably yield in place to his accomplished successor. 
 Mr. Lawrence, however, is a man of great natural in- 
 tellect, and of thorough practical knowledge on a 
 wide variety of subjects. He is a man, noble and 
 graceful in his person ; but his easy eloquence and 
 generous heart relieve it from the dignity of distance. 
 Mr. Lawrence has sometimes been characterized as 
 aristocratic ; — an epithet which is sometimes applied 
 hastily and improperly. If, however, by aristocracy be 
 merely meant wealth, it must be admitted, that he be- 
 longs to the class of those who possess great riches. 
 But it is equally well known, that his wealth has al- 
 ways been accessible for the poor man's benefit : and 
 no man, whether rich or poor, ever goes from his pres- 
 ence, without feeling that he has a sympathetic and 
 republican heart. 
 
 On our arrival at Liverpool three topics seemed at 
 that moment to be uppermost in the public mind, (in 
 addition to the anomalous and amazing movements 
 in France, which are laying the foundations of a new 
 dynasty and empire,) namely, the death and funeral 
 
32 LETTERS — AESTHETIC, 
 
 obsequies, not yet determined upon, of the Duke of 
 Wellington, the emigration to Australia, and the dis- 
 closures, contained in that remarkable advent in Amer- 
 ican literature, entitled Uncle Tom's Cabin. Expect- 
 ing to be present at the opening of Parliament, and 
 to witness the funeral solemnities, which a grateful 
 nation proposes to enact in honor of a name, which 
 stands prominent and perhaps first in British military 
 history, I shall defer what I have to say upon this re- 
 markable man to some future occasion. The vast emi- 
 gration to Australia, which seems to be chiefly of Eng- 
 lishmen, at first strikes one as merely a commercial 
 incident, a new development of the courses of trade 
 and of the intercourse of men and nations ; but to the 
 eye of the reflecting and philosophical observer, it 
 carries with it the seeds of empires, and new and im- 
 portant destinies of the human race. The vast coun- 
 tries in that part of the world are destined to be oc- 
 cupied by the Anglo-Saxon race ; carrying with them 
 intelligence and the arts, the Protestant religion, and 
 the indomitable spirit of independence. At such a 
 distance they cannot remain long dependent upon a 
 predominant power, but will set up for themselves, 
 and fulfill the destiny which Providence has allotted 
 them. 
 
 You will perhaps be surprised to hear me intimate, 
 that the work of Mrs. Stowe, interesting and valuable 
 as it undoubtedly is, is one of the things which at the 
 present time occupies to a considerable extent the at- 
 tention of the British nation. It is not often that a 
 literary work, whatever its merits, produces what may 
 be called a national sensation. But such is the fact 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 33 
 
 in the present case. Partly owing to the nature of the 
 subject, and partly to the intrinsic merits of the work, 
 it is universally read, and it has been asserted on what 
 seemed to be good authority, that the popular writings 
 of Walter Scott and of Dickens have had at no time 
 a circulation so general and rapid as Uncle Tom's 
 Cabin. It is published by a multitude of booksellers 
 in all forms, and with all sorts and degrees of decora- 
 tions and prices, and is found in all book-stalls and 
 booksellers' shops. 
 
 The effect of this work upon the English mind 
 seems to be favorable. I do not know that it increas- 
 es the Englishman's hostility to slavery, which was 
 sufficiently decided and emphatic before. But it re- 
 veals to him the multiplied alliances and intricacies of 
 the system ; the impossibility of removing or re-adjust- 
 ing it without great wisdom and kindness ; and the 
 real benevolence of many slaveholders, who are ready 
 as christians and as patriots to do what they ought to 
 do, as soon as they can ascertain what it is. It also 
 opens to the English reader, by means of intimations 
 and statements in the latter part of the work, some 
 new light in another direction. The allusions to the 
 Liberian Republic discloses very clearly the tenden- 
 cies and anticipations, which exist at the present time 
 in the mind of the talented and benevolent authoress. 
 And they are not only understood, but they have their 
 effect here. The inquiry arises in thinking minds, Are 
 there not some designs of Providence, connected with 
 the history of the African race in America, which have 
 been as yet imperfectly appreciated among us ? ^ Is it 
 not possible, that the Supreme Being, in permitting 
 
34 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 this race to be carried to America, has done it with 
 the design of giving them a knowledge of the Eng- 
 lish language, of modern arts and civilization, of free 
 political institutions, and especially of the Christian 
 religion, — in order that, in due time and under the 
 providence of God, they may carry back the arts, and 
 freedom, and Christianity to benighted and suffering 
 Africa ? And if such is the design of Providence, may 
 we not soon expect, by consultation and proper co- 
 operation of effort, to see Christian States and repub- 
 lics arising on the coast of Africa, which shall vie in 
 all that is great and good with the Christian States 
 of Europe and America? 
 
 If the effect of the work is to suggest such con- 
 siderations, and to subdue in some degree the bitter- 
 ness of feeling which unhappily has existed towards 
 the Southern States of our Republic, we must cer- 
 tainly regard it as favorable. But Mrs. Stowe's is not 
 the only American book which is read in England. 
 In many bookstores I have found works by American 
 authors ; and it was pleasant, in reading advertise- 
 ments and lists of publications at so great a distance 
 from my native land, to meet very frequently the fa- 
 miliar and popular names of Irving, Cooper, Webster, 
 Story, Longfellow, Abbott, Bryant, Hawthorne, and 
 others. 
 
 There, are other evidences of a public sentiment in- 
 creasingly favorable. The newspapers of England, 
 which seem to me to be conducted in general with 
 greater ability than our own, indicate the estimation 
 in which America is held. A larger space is given in 
 these papers to the commercial, political, and local 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL* 35 
 
 news from the American States, than is given to the 
 events occurring in other foreign countries, unless 
 there is something very peculiar in their situation, 
 which is the case in France at the present time. On 
 the whole, it seems to me very obvious, even from the 
 limited opportunities of observation which I have al- 
 ready enjoyed, that England, laying aside the jealous- 
 ies which might naturally be expected, is preparing 
 with increased cordiality to open her heart and arms 
 to young America. 
 
 Before I left America, letters had reached me in my 
 retired and almost obscure residence, from a gentle- 
 man-of Liverpool, who had become acquainted with 
 some imperfect works which bear my name. He re- 
 ceived me at his house with the utmost cordiality and 
 kindness ; which confirmed the impression, to which 
 I have already alluded, that, in going to England, I 
 did not go among an unknown and foreign people. 
 His marked and unexpected kindness to one who had 
 never seen him before, left impressions upon my mind 
 which can never be effaced. I shall have occasion in 
 another place to refer again to this excellent and much 
 esteemed friend. 
 
 I have visited and spent a day at Manchester, which 
 is but a short distance from Liverpool by the railroad 
 conveyance. Of this busy and great city, so often 
 mentioned and so well known in the United. States, 
 I could have wished to say something ; — though it 
 would have been only the statement of an imperfect 
 and passing impression. But as I am just starting 
 for Oxford, it is possible that I may find something of 
 more interest for you there. 
 
36 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 (IV.) 
 
 Arrival at Oxford — Story of the martyrs, Cranmer, Ridley and Latimer 
 — Place of their martyrdom — The martyr's memorial — Inscrip- 
 tion — Poetry. 
 
 OXFORD, ENGLAND, OCT. 7, 1852. 
 
 As I intimated in my last, I have found my way 
 to Oxford. I left Liverpool, 'after remaining there 
 and at Manchester a week, and arrived here yester- 
 day ; a distance, I should judge of at least an hundred 
 and fifty miles, through a well cultivated country, but 
 not so beautiful to my eye as New England. I must 
 say, however, that England, in all the attributes of 
 comfort, general prosperity, education, and morals, 
 exceeds my expectations. I have seen as yet but lit- 
 tle evidence of want and suffering ; not so much as I 
 have witnessed in New York, with the exception per- 
 haps of the city of Manchester, where there is a large 
 manufacturing population, many of whom undoubt- 
 edly suffer much. 
 
 In the religious department of my mind, if I may 
 so express it, Jerusalem, of all earthly localities, stands 
 first, and beyond all comparison. In the merely in- 
 tellectual or literary department, there are other dis- 
 tinguished names and places, which attract much of 
 thought and memory ; and among them Oxford stands 
 side by side with Rome and Athens. And here I am 
 in Oxford, — amidst walls and towers and colleges, 
 that carry me back a thousand years ; — and on the 
 banks of that Isis, flowing as beautiful as ever, which 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 37 
 
 was associated in my early reading, and recollections 
 with the Tiber and the Illissus. I will endeavor in a 
 few days, to give you some account of what is before 
 me. 
 
 Before proceeding to do this, I must do homage to 
 my own feelings, my sacred attachments to the doc- 
 trines and the cross of Christ, which remind me that 
 in Oxford, and near the place where I now am, the 
 celebrated martyrs, Cranmer, Ridley and Latimer, were 
 burnt at the stake. Their deeply interesting story had 
 been familiar to me from childhood ; but it naturally 
 assumed in my mind a new clearness and strength of 
 reality, when I found myself near the place where 
 they were tried and imprisoned, and at last put to 
 death. I had been in the city but a few hours when 
 I employed a person, who is acquainted with its in- 
 teresting localities, to guide me to the place. The 
 precise spot, where those justly renowned men and 
 christians perished in defence of the Protestant faith, 
 is in the northern part of the city, in Broad street, and 
 directly opposite to Balliol College, and is marked by 
 a stone cross of moderate dimensions 3 aid horizontal- 
 ly in the ground. At a little distance is a large me- 
 morial cross or monument, nearly eighty feet in height, 
 in which sculpture has combined its aid with archi- 
 tecture, to do honor to their memory. Repeatedly, 
 since I have been here, have I visited this sacred place, 
 and gazed with deep emotion upon the horizontal cross 
 which indicates, after the lapse of centuries, where the 
 flames were kindled, and where the martyrs died. And 
 I can assure you it has required but little effort of the 
 imagination, to see those venerable men chained to 
 4 
 
38 LETTERS- — ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 the stake, to hear their last prayers, and to witness the 
 agonies of their fiery dissolution. 
 
 When a man is willing to die for his principles, I 
 feel that human nature is honored ; or rather that God 
 is honored, who inspires within him the inflexible 
 faith, the indomitable will, without which he would 
 not be enabled to endure such suffering. It is true, 
 that persons of different forms of faith have died as 
 martyrs. But what does that indicate but that there 
 is a principle beneath the form ; and that religion or 
 that principle which recognizes the God of the Bible 
 and has confidence in him, is essentially the same un- 
 der a variety of forms. These noble martyrs belong- 
 ed to a form of faith, different in some respects from 
 that in which I have been brought up ; but I do not 
 cherish and honor their memory the less on that ac- 
 count. And I cannot doubt, (saying nothing of mul- 
 titudes who sympathized fully in their personal reli- 
 gious relations and in the peculiar form of their be- 
 lief,) that their willingness to die that cruel death has 
 strengthened the faith, and given new impulse to the 
 piety, and encouraged the hopes of multitudes in other 
 communions. 
 
 On the lofty monument to which I have referred, 
 called the Martyr's Memorial, a sketch of which I 
 send you, on the north face of the basement story, is 
 the following inscription. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 39 
 
 TO THE GLORY OF GOD, 
 
 AND IN GRATEFUL COMMEMORATION OF HIS SERVANTS, 
 
 THOMAS CRANMER, 
 
 NICHOLAS RIDLEY, 
 
 HUGH LATIMER, 
 
 PRELATES OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, 
 
 WHO, NEAR THIS SPOT, 
 
 YIELDED THEIR BODIES TO BE BURNED; 
 
 BEARING WITNESS 
 
 TO THE SACRED TRUTHS 
 
 WHICH THEY HAD AFFIRMED AND MAINTAINED 
 
 AGAINST THE ERRORS OF THE CHURCH OF ROME ; 
 
 AND REJOICING 
 
 THAT TO THEM IT WAS GIVEN 
 
 NOT ONLY TO BELIEVE IN CHRIST, 
 
 BUT ALSO TO SUFFER FOR HIS SAKE ; 
 
 THIS MONUMENT 
 
 WAS ERECTED BY PUBLIC SUBSCRIPTION, 
 
 IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 
 
 MDCCCXLI. 
 
 And now you will allow me to add a little testi- 
 monial of my own, which, without claiming any other 
 merit, certainly has that of being written upon the 
 spot, in deep sympathy with the events which occur- 
 red there, and by a stranger from a foreign land. 
 
 My feet have press' d the place of fire, 
 Where Oxford's holy martyrs died ; 
 
 Led by a just and high desire, 
 Not to deny the Crucified. 
 
 It was no strife for earthly fame, 
 
 No selfish contest for the wrong ; 
 But homage to a Saviour's name, * 
 
 Which made them true and made them strong. 
 
 'Twas here they stood beside the stake ; 
 
 In chains, but still in faith and love j 
 Willing, the cup of flame to take, 
 
 And find their recompense above. 
 
40 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 And standing round their fiery cross, 
 
 They still had power to pray and praise j 
 
 And while their bodies burned like dross, 
 Their souls grew brighter in the blaze. 
 
 Oh life of love, that cannot die ! 
 
 From earth by fire and faggot driven, 
 Angels shall welcome thee on high, 
 
 And thou shalt bless thy native heaven, 
 
 (v.) 
 
 General view of the city of Oxford — Visit to Magdalen College — Its 
 eminent men — Addison's walk — Character of his writings — 
 Botanic gardens — University College — Christ Church College. 
 
 OXFORD, ENGLAND, OCT. 9, 1852. 
 
 The city of Oxford, renowned for its historical and 
 literary associations, is situated near the junction of 
 the beautiful rivers, the Isis and the Cherwell. These 
 two rivers, which have their place in history and in 
 English song, particularly the classic Isis, unite to- 
 gether, after nearly insulating the city ; and flowing 
 on through Abingdon as far as Dochester, mingle their 
 waters with the still more celebrated Thames. As- 
 cending one of the eminences to the east of the city, 
 I had, in one sudden and wide view, before me, a 
 scene of remarkable beauty ; the fields and gardens, 
 limited and shut in with green hedges, and bearing 
 everywhere the marks of high cultivation ; the humble 
 but comfortable home of the laboring cottager; the 
 more splendid residence of the wealthy ; hills, valleys, 
 rivers, forests, intermingled, especially in the direction 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 41 
 
 and in the vicinity of the city, with spires, domes, and 
 towers, — the vast and venerable representatives of dif- 
 ferent ages and of different degrees of civilization. Af- 
 terwards, going up to the outer balustrade of the cele- 
 brated edifice, known as the Radcliffe Library, I ob- 
 tained another and nearer panoramic view of the city, 
 — its streets, squares, churches, monuments, halls, 
 bridges, colleges,— which, although the scene will 
 change continually in itself, will remain a picture in 
 my own mind, distinct as life and lasting as memory. 
 
 I have no hesitation in saying, limited as my ac- 
 quaintance in these things is, that Oxford may justly 
 be regarded as one of the most remarkable and most 
 interesting cities in Europe. "With more than twenty 
 thousand inhabitants, and carrying back its history a 
 thousand years, it is not without interest in its civil, 
 political, and historical relations. But to us, on the 
 other side of the Atlantic, it is known chiefly by its 
 University, and by the relations which it thus sustains, 
 through its justly celebrated schools of learning, to 
 English literature and intellectual culture generally. 
 It was her University which interested me most. 
 
 As you enter the city in the eastern direction, over 
 a bridge of beautiful architecture which crosses the 
 Cherwell, you first come in sight of Magdalen Col- 
 lege ; one of the noblest in the sisterhood of colleges 
 which constitutes the University of Oxford. Its large 
 and magnificent tower, an hundred and fifty feet in 
 height, and which dates back in its origin as far as 
 1492, attracts particular notice. At this point com- 
 mences the street, called the High Street, which is 
 distinguished by the number and remarkable charac- 
 ^ 4* 
 
42 LETTERS — ESTHETIC 
 
 ter of its public buildings. On the right of this street 
 the stranger enters the college, through a gateway in 
 the Gothic style, which is quite recent in its construc- 
 tion, and was erected from a design by Pugin. Over 
 the gate is a Latin inscription, indicating that the 
 founders and administrators of the college are willing 
 to recognize their dependence on a higher power, 
 which may be translated into English as follows : " He, 
 whose name is holy, hath done great things for me." 
 On entering the court and passing on to the interior, 
 the various parts of the Gothic gateway and of the 
 college building, including the chapel, present points 
 and objects, which arrest the attention and please the 
 eye of persons who are capable of appreciating the 
 beauties of architecture and sculpture ; — figures of the 
 Virgin and Child ; — figures in niches over the west 
 windows of the chapel, representing St. John the Bap- 
 tist, Edward IV., and others ; — stained windows, on 
 one of which is a representation of the last judg- 
 ment; — Corinthian pillars of great beauty, canopied 
 statues, and monuments of no small elegance. One 
 of these monuments enlists the notice of the visitor 
 from the circumstance that it is erected to the memory 
 of two brothers, members of the college, who were 
 drowned in the Cherwell, one in endeavoring to save 
 the other. 
 
 The library is ornamented with portraits and busts, 
 among which are the busts of Locke and Bacon — 
 and what is of more consequence, contains a large 
 and valuable collection of books. There is obviously 
 no want of the opportunities and means of mental 
 improvement. I entered a number of the rooms of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 43 
 
 the inmates and members of this college fraternity, 
 and found them, though dating far back in their origin, 
 sufficiently convenient and well adapted to purposes 
 of study. Among the men who pursued their studies 
 here, and whose names are familiar on both sides of 
 the Atlantic, were Cardinal Wolsey, Fox the martyr- 
 ologist, Collins the poet, Gibbon the historian, and 
 Addison. 
 
 The mention of Addison reminds me of the pic- 
 turesque grove, with its large old elms, which forms a 
 part of the college grounds, and particularly of the 
 beautiful walk near the banks of the Cherwell, known 
 as Addison's walk. This walk, which has been ele- 
 vated with much labor above the low and green 
 meadows around, is of considerable length, and is 
 shaded with lofty trees. And the tradition is, that 
 Addison, while connected with Magdalen College, 
 spent much of his time here ; and that it was here 
 that he either completed or planned many of his ad- 
 mirable writings. Addison has always been a favor- 
 ite with me. To his writings I was early directed as 
 models of style; and these soon became interesting 
 to me for other reasons. His merits were not always 
 understood at first ; but they become more and more 
 obvious on a close acquaintance. So perfect is his 
 mastery of the English language, that it is difficult to 
 alter his sentences, even in a slight degree, without 
 taking something from their simplicity or beauty. 
 Everything which he says is true to nature and in 
 excellent taste ; and is often heightened in its effect 
 upon the mind by its high moral tone or its sweet 
 quiet humor. Many have been the pleasant and 
 
44 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 profitable hours which I have spent over his writings ; 
 and I can assure you it was with no small emotion 
 that I found myself treading on the place, which aid- 
 ed the contemplations, and contributed to the happi- 
 ness of this great and good man. 
 
 Opposite Magdalen College are the Botanic Gar- 
 dens ; occupying the place, which at some former pe- 
 riod, is said to have been used as a burying ground 
 by the Jews, many of whom dwelt here anciently. — 
 These beautiful gardens, auxiliary to study and im- 
 provent in a very important department of knowledge, 
 are worthy of the especial attention of travellers. They 
 may be visited without expense ; and the courteous 
 curator, who has the reputation of being a learned 
 and skillful botanist, is ready to give any information 
 which may be desired. It may not be out of place to 
 add, that they are entered through a handsome gate- 
 way, which, independently of its own beauty, natu- 
 rally attracted notice from the circumstance of its 
 being built from a design by the celebrated architect, 
 Inigo Jones. 
 
 On the opposite side of High Street, and very near 
 where I have found a quiet and comfortable residence 
 in the Angel Hotel, is another of the old and distin- 
 guished members of the great Oxford University ; the 
 college, founded in 1249, and which is known as the 
 University College. This college presents a front on 
 the street of two hundred and sixty feet. It is divi- 
 ded in its interior into two courts, and is entered by 
 two towered gateways. Trie chapel, which consti- 
 tutes a part of the college edifice, is an object of much 
 attraction. Like the other chapels, it is ornamented 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 45 
 
 with many monuments, which are more or less chaste 
 and beautiful in their design. There is one, made by 
 Flaxman, which is erected to the memory of Sir Wil- 
 liam Jones. This is particularly interesting, not only 
 for its own beauty, but also on account of the great 
 name which it honors, the author of the " Digest of 
 the Hindoo Laws," distinguished as a Judge, and still 
 more for his knowledge of Oriental literature. 
 
 The window in what is denominated the Ante 
 Chapel, representing " Christ driving the buyers and 
 sellers out of the temple," was painted by Henry 
 Giles, an English artist. The paintings on the win- 
 dows in the Inner Chapel, which are more rich and 
 beautiful in their execution and coloring, are by an 
 artist more generally known, Van Linge. Jacob's 
 Vision of the Ladder, Elijah's Ascent to Heaven in a 
 chariot of fire, Abraham preparing to offer up Isaac, 
 and other Scripture scenes and events, are represented 
 on them. They were painted in 1641. 
 
 The Hall of the college, small in size but remark- 
 able for its beauty, is adorned with a number of por- 
 traits of distinguished men. Among the eminent 
 men who have been members of this college, it may 
 be proper to mention Dr. Radcliffe, the founder of the 
 RadclifFe library; Arch-bishop Potter, the author of the 
 " Archseologia Greeca," a work so well known to Greek 
 scholars ; Earl Eldon, late Lord Chancellor of Eng- 
 land ; Lord Stowell, Judge of the Court of Admiralty, 
 whose clear and able admiralty decisions cannot have 
 escaped the notice of American lawyers, and Sir Wil- 
 liam Jones. 
 
 This college is of great antiquity. Some writers 
 
46 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 carry the date of its origin farther back than I have 
 mentioned, the year 1249. And portions of the buil- 
 ding, discolored and crumbling with age, show that 
 the works of man, however skillfully and laboriously 
 made, have not that inward principle of renovation 
 and life, which characterizes the works of God. This 
 is the source of one of the unpleasant and unfavor- 
 able impressions which all persons, especially those 
 from the New World, are liable to receive here. The 
 Isis flows as beautiful as ever ; the gardens put off 
 their splendor only to remodel and restore it with 
 original freshness ; and in the lofty and magnificent 
 trees, which stand as guards to walls and towers and 
 monuments, there is a principle of re-production, which 
 gives a lease of perpetuity ; but upon everything which 
 man has made, though wrought out of the solid rock, 
 and with ages of labor, there are marks of decay and 
 dissolution. The very marble, struck with the sick- 
 ness of centuries, crumbled in my hand, and I felt that 
 there is no true and permanent life but in the great 
 Source of Life. 
 
 Oxford is a city of colleges and public institutions ; 
 and they are found not in a particular locality, as one 
 would be likely to suppose, but scattered over its 
 whole extent. Christ Church College, for instance, 
 is situated at some distance from those which I have 
 mentioned on St. Aldgates' Street. This college was 
 founded in 1524 by Cardinal Wolsey. It displays a 
 front of four hundred feet in length ; and as it is 
 viewed in certain positions, with its turrets and battle- 
 ments, has something of the appearance of a castle. 
 In the centre is a large octagonal Gothic tower, which 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 47 
 
 is truly a magnificent object. It is here, through the 
 large gateway called Tom Gate, that the visitor en- 
 ters, and finds himself at once in the quadrangle of 
 the college, which is said to be the most spacious and 
 beautiful in the city. The gateway has its name from 
 the large bell which is suspended in the cupola above ; 
 which is seventeen thousand pounds in weight, being 
 double the weight of the large bell of St. Paul's Church 
 in London, and is known by the name of the " Great 
 Tom of Oxford." This bell is a great favorite of the 
 Oxford students, particularly those of Christ Church 
 College, who insist upon it that it is the best bell in 
 England, which, however, is said to be a matter of con- 
 siderable discussion. This bell has an important part 
 to perform in the discipline of the college, especially 
 in the night. It is tolled every night at five minutes 
 past nine ; at which time, under penalty of being re- 
 ported as delinquent to the college authorities, every 
 undergraduate is expected to be at his room. The stu- 
 dents insist, however, that it shall be struck one hun- 
 dred and one times, and this has become the fixed and 
 invariable custom in the matter. 
 
 In speaking of these colleges, I have had occasion 
 to refer to paintings and sculpture. I do not pretend 
 to any technical knowledge in these matters ; and yet 
 I have an aesthetical system of my own, founded in 
 some degree upon an analysis of my own emotions, 
 which enables me to give some opinion or judgment 
 upon works of art, which is tolerably satisfactory to 
 myself. It has seemed to me, however, that the high- 
 est results of art are not generally secured in that class 
 of works, whether of painting, architecture, or sculp- 
 
48 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 ture, which are constructed on the principle of a hiero- 
 glyphical or allegorical significancy. The full effect 
 upon the mind is disturbed and diminished by the 
 thoughts being divided between the consideration of 
 the object in itself, and its relation to the moral or 
 other meaning which it is intended to convey. 
 
 Perhaps the best illustration of this topic will be 
 found at Magdalen College. In the great quadrangle 
 of the college, southwest corner, are two figures, the 
 Lion and the Pelican. And they are placed here, the 
 Lion, to indicate emblematically the attributes of cour- 
 age and vigilance ; — the Pelican as an emblem of pa- 
 rental tenderness and affection. And by combination 
 they are intended to shadow forth the character of a 
 good governor of a college. And accordingly we find 
 them, in connection with these important intimations, 
 appropriately placed under the windows of the head or 
 president of the college. At a little distance is the 
 figure of a Hippopotamus or river horse, carrying his 
 young one upon his shoulders. This, we are told, is 
 the emblematic representation of a good Tutor or 
 Fellow of a college, who is more intimately related 
 to particular pupils in the college, and through whose 
 prudence and labors they are to be guarded and kept 
 amid the dangers to which they are exposed on first 
 entering into the world. 
 
 All this would have done in the days of the Egyp- 
 tian or Assyrian empires, when it found its justifica- 
 tion in the imperfection of language, but does not 
 harmonize with the nineteenth century. I did not no- 
 tice anything precisely of this kind at Christ Church 
 College. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 49 
 
 The Refectory or Dining Hall of this college, al- 
 though it may be thought to have a closer connection 
 with the material than the mental wants of its mem- 
 bers, is worthy of notice on account of its great ex- 
 tent, being an hundred and fifteen feet in length, forty 
 in width, and fifty high ; and also on account of its 
 various and rich decorations. The roof is of richly 
 carved oak, and is ornamented with the numerous ar- 
 morial bearings of Henry- VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey. 
 The walls are adorned with an hundred and twenty 
 original portraits of persons, who had been at various 
 times members of the college. Some of these pictures 
 are by the hands of the most distinguished artists. In 
 this capacious and richly ornamented hall a grand en- 
 tertainment was given in 1814 to the allied sovereigns 
 of Europe and to Metternich and Blucher, and other 
 renowned statesmen and warriors, at the time of their 
 visit to England after the defeat and fall of Napoleon. 
 Of the Chapel of Christ Church College, which 
 possesses great historical and antiquarian interest, and 
 of the noble library, adorned with busts and paintings 
 from the most celebrated masters, I cannot stop to 
 speak. Tired with looking at these interesting objects, 
 without being able to stop and examine them as they 
 deserve to be examined, I walked out, and gave rest 
 and refreshment to my mind, in the beautiful meadow 
 in the immediate vicinity. This meadow, which I un- 
 derstand to be the property of the college, is bounded 
 on two sides by the Cherwell and Isis, which here 
 meet and mingle their waters ; and adorned as it is 
 with spacious walks and noble avenues of trees, it is 
 5 
 
50 
 
 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 justly regarded as one of its valuable accessories and 
 ornaments. 
 
 Among the distinguished men, who have been at 
 different periods members of this college, were Atter- 
 bury, bishop of Rochester, Dr. Robert South, the earl 
 of Mansfield, Bolinbroke, Boyle, Philip Sidney the 
 author of the Arcadia, the poets Ben Johnson and Ot- 
 way, George Canning, and Sir Robert Peel. At Ox- 
 ford, as everywhere else since I have been in Eng- 
 land, I have been reminded of America. Numberless 
 are the remembrances and ties, which bind us togeth- 
 er. And here, in reading over the list of those, whose 
 powers were developed and disciplined in Christ 
 Church College, these sympathetic and fraternal re- 
 membrances flowed up within me, as I stopped at the 
 name of William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania. 
 Most persons have an idea of William Penn as a man 
 of portly form, wearing a plain coat with large but- 
 tons, with an amplified hat and a cane in his hand ; 
 adding perhaps the accessory conception, which they 
 have imbibed traditionally, that he made some amica- 
 ble treaties with the Indians. But this, although it is 
 well as far as it goes, is not all. Penn was a man, not 
 only of deep religious sensibility, but of vast grasp of 
 intellect. If he wore a coat, which indicated his re- 
 lationship to a particular party or sect, he nevertheless 
 had a soul of great dimensions, which took in the past, 
 the present and the future ; and which, moved as it 
 were by a divine inspiration, foresaw, anticipated, and 
 in part regulated the destinies of humanity. And his 
 numerous writings, when examined on the principles 
 which decide literary merit, showed that he was an 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 51 
 
 accomplished scholar. In his remarkable Treatise, en- 
 titled " No Cross, no Crown," which was written at 
 an early period of his life, there are many passages, 
 characterized by chasteness of taste and beauty of 
 expression, as well as truth and sublimity of thought; 
 and which as it seems to me, cannot well be explain- 
 ed, except in connection with the fact, which perhaps 
 is not well known even to his own people, that his 
 mind, in its intellectual department, was trained and 
 disciplined in this seat of learning. 
 
 This is the college of Locke also, who took an in- 
 terest in, and whose name is associated historically 
 with the affairs of America. But Locke, the author 
 of the Essay on the Human Understanding, like Plato 
 and Fenelon, does not belong to any one age or coun- 
 try ; but transmits himself, by means of his great 
 qualities, into all ages and lands. Undoubtedly those, 
 who have succeeded him in some of the departments 
 of mental philosophy, have seen further and under- 
 stood better in some things ; but this is the necessary 
 result of human progress, and suggestions and criti- 
 cisms of this nature will apply to the great names of 
 all periods. What is imperfect is completed by time. 
 And it still remains true, that, owing to the clearness 
 and originality of his perceptions, the variety and ex- 
 tent of his learning, the excellence of his character, 
 and the vast and favorable influence he has exerted, 
 that his name may be said, to have transcended the 
 limits of nationality, and to have taken its place in 
 the catalogue and in the brotherhood of those great 
 men, who belong not so much to a nation as to the 
 human race. 
 
52 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 I ought to add, that there is, at this college, a whole 
 length statue of Locke, in marble, by Roubillac. 
 
 (VI.) 
 
 Trinity College — Its library — Distinguished members — Bodleian libra- 
 ry — Chantrey gallery — Statue of Cicero — Copies of the cartoons 
 of Raphael. 
 
 OXFORD, ENGLAND, OCT. 11, 1852. 
 
 There is necessarily a similarity in institutions, 
 founded for the same object. However they may dif- 
 fer in extent and decorations, there must be in all, 
 rooms for the students, libraries, places of worship, 
 rooms and galleries for the arts, and whatever else 
 may be necessary for convenience, or for developing 
 intellectual and moral culture. When you have a 
 knowledge of one, you have essentially a knowledge 
 of the elements of all. Of the other colleges which 
 contribute to constitute the great Oxford University, 
 Oriel, Balliol, Trinity, Pembroke, Worcester, Merton, 
 Queen's College and others, each has its advantages 
 and attractions ; and each its distinct and honorable 
 history. Trinity College, founded in 1554, is later in 
 origin than some of the others to which I have di- 
 rected your attention, but it has a high reputation. 
 
 The library of this college, not deficient in other 
 respects, is particularly valuable for the many ancient 
 works it contains. Among others there is a Latin 
 manuscript of Euclid, which is said to be six hundred 
 years old. And it is stated further in relation to it, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 53 
 
 that it was translated into Latin from the Arabic, be- 
 fore the original Greek was discovered. 
 
 In the list of the distinguished members of Trinity 
 College, are found the names of Arch-bishop Sheldon, 
 Selden the Antiquarian, Chillingworth, so celebrated 
 for his controversial writings, and the poets Denham, 
 Wharton, and Bowles. It was a matter of interest 
 to me, as it would naturally be to an American, to no- 
 tice also amoner its celebrated members the names of 
 Ireton and Ludlow, who held a rank so distinguished 
 among the generals of the time of the English Com- 
 monwealth. On the catalogue of this college also, is 
 the name of the elder Pitt, the Earl of Chatham, so 
 renowned in the annals of the British Senate, the 
 friend of revolted America, because, in allowing to 
 Americans the principles and rights which he claimed 
 for Englishmen, he deemed the cause of America to 
 be just ; — a great and memorable orator, whose rea- 
 sonings had the aspect of intuitions, and whose dec- 
 lamations were a flame of fire. 
 
 I must confess to you that I was solicitous to know 
 what sort of men these colleges had produced. You 
 are aware that much has been said in relation to the 
 position of Oxford and the practical value of its sys- 
 tem of education. The attacks which are made upon 
 it both in and out of England, the statements and in- 
 timations unfavorable to the idea of its usefulness, are 
 very frequent. Perhaps there is some foundation for 
 this. It is quite probable, that this great University, 
 vast in its relations and interests, and restricted by 
 ancient charters, which it is bound not to violate, has 
 found it difficult to adjust itself at once and in all re^ 
 5* 
 
54 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 spects, to the real improvements and the true spirit of 
 the age. It may not be suitable for me, the citizen of 
 another country and educated under different influen- 
 ces, to give an opinion on the subject matter of this 
 controversy ; but one thing is certain, that Oxford like 
 every other college or university, has the right to point 
 to the sons she has educated, and to require, that they 
 shall be taken into account in forming a judgment. — 
 Others may explain it and modify it as they think 
 proper ; but the fact still remains imperishable as his- 
 tory, that in this university, in different periods of its 
 progress, minds have been trained and have gone out 
 into the world, that have explored and successfully ex- 
 panded the departments of science, men whose per- 
 fected literary culture has approached that of Rome 
 and Athens. Religious and civil reformers and repub- 
 licans, who have defended and illustrated liberty by 
 reason and eloquence, and who have fought at the 
 head of armies, or shed their blood at the stake. 
 
 Her monuments may decay, her busts and statues 
 may be broken, the massy walls of her colleges may 
 crumble into dust ; but her imperishable minds, brought 
 out into strength and symmetry by her cherishing cul- 
 ture, will testify in all coming ages, whatever may be 
 true of her imperfections or her faults, that she is, 
 nevertheless, a child of Providence and an heir of im- 
 mortality. 
 
 Among the places which no person should leave 
 Oxford without seeing, are the Bodleian Library and 
 the University Galleries. In noticing the books con- 
 tained in the Bodleian Library, the attention of the 
 visitor is called to the fact, that the valuable library of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 55 
 
 the learned Selden, consisting of more than 8000 vol- 
 umes of printed books and manuscripts, makes a part 
 of it. There is also deposited in the same library a 
 celebrated collection of Greek manuscripts, more than 
 200 in number, formed by Giacomo Barocci, a Vene- 
 tian nobleman. This library, beside its ancient manu- 
 scripts and its immense collection of books, is the de- 
 pository of numerous valuable manuscripts, contain- 
 ing the researches of learned men in more recent times, 
 which have been deposited at different periods. En- 
 tering the painting galleries in an upper story of the 
 building, which is occupied in part by some beautiful 
 models of ancient and modern buildings, my attention 
 was arrested by the portraits of distinguished men 
 which grace its walls ; particularly of Sir Kenelm Dig- 
 by and the unfortunate Earl of Strafford, by Vandyke ; 
 — and of Handel, the great musical composer, a por- 
 trait taken by Hudson, and the only one for which he 
 ever sat. Among the curiosities to be found in this 
 room, some of them calculated to suggest painful re- 
 collections, I saw in a window-place near the entrance 
 of the gallery, a fac-simile of the death-warrant of 
 Charles First. I had nearly forgotten to say, that, on 
 entering this gallery, I complied, like other visitors, 
 with an invitation to seat myself in a venerable chair, 
 made of part of the ship, in which Admiral Drake 
 sailed round the world. To this chair is appended an 
 inscription in verse, in his peculiar style of writing, by 
 the old English poet, Abraham Cowley, as follows : 
 
 To this great ship, which round the globe has run, 
 
 And matched in race the chariot of the sun 3 
 This Pythagorean ship, (for it may claim 
 
56 LETTERS ESTHETIC 
 
 "Without presumption, so deserved a name,) 
 By knowledge once, and transformation now, 
 
 In her new shape this sacred port allow. 
 Drake and his ship could not have wished from Fate 
 
 A happier station or more blest estate ; 
 For, lo ! a seat of endless rest is given, 
 
 To her in Oxford, and to him in heaven. 
 
 (Abraham Cowley, 16G2.) 
 
 Not less interesting to the stranger than this cele- 
 brated library, is the recent but important establish- 
 ment called the University Galleries, designed express- 
 ly and almost exclusively for the reception of statues, 
 paintings, engravings and other curiosities, belonging 
 to or which may be left to the Oxford University. In 
 the building of the University Galleries, is the gallery 
 called the " Chantrey Gallery ;" a large apartment, an 
 hundred and eighty feet in length, by twenty-eight in 
 width, containing the original models of the greatest 
 works of the late Sir Francis Chantrey. Among them 
 are the busts and statues of Bishop Heber ; — of the 
 second Pitt, whose majestic form and ample brow 
 harmonize with the idea which we naturally attach to 
 this great master of the destiny of nations ; — of James 
 Watt the engineer, Roscoe of Liverpool, and Sir Jo- 
 seph Bankes ; — of General Rollo Gillespie, of Grat- 
 tan, Canning, and Washington. Another apartment, 
 the principal Sculpture Gallery, contains numerous 
 casts of antique statues and busts, the greater part of 
 which were taken at Eome, from moulds made for the 
 Emperor Napoleon. Among them are casts of the 
 Laocoon, and his sons, of the Torso of Belvidere, and 
 of the Venus de Medici. These, as also the models 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 57 
 
 in the Chantrey Gallery, have been recently presented 
 to the University by the widow of Chantrey. 
 
 In another part of the building, amid a multiplicity 
 of works of ancient art, I was struck with an ancient 
 statue of Cicero, of marble, about seven feet high. — 
 I know nothing of the history of this statue, but I 
 felt that it was, or might be, the true representation 
 of the mighty orator himself, of the real Cicero of the 
 Senate of Rome. The drapery, in which he is clothed, 
 is of remarkable propriety and beauty. He stands as 
 if preparing to speak ; — a scroll in his left hand, the 
 sudarium in his right ; — every line of his countenance 
 full of intelligence, made alive and intense by flashes 
 of indignation ; — in a word, such as I can imagine him 
 to have been and to have appeared, when preparing to 
 utter his orations against Cataline or Mark Antony. 
 
 In the Picture Gallery, which is a room ninety-six 
 feet long, by twenty-eight wide, are admirable copies, 
 by an English painter of the name of Cooke, of the 
 celebrated colored drawings on paper, of Raphael, 
 called the Cartoons. I believe that the Cartoons are 
 regarded by those who are intimately acquainted with 
 his works, as among the most striking evidences and 
 results of the wonderful genius and skill of Raphael. 
 To describe them fully and properly, would seem to 
 require something of the genius of the author of them ; 
 —and at any rate I will not undertake anything of the 
 kind now, as I am not without some hopes of seeing, 
 and of examining more at leisure the originals at the 
 palace of Hampton Court. I will merely name the 
 subjects of them — (1) The intended sacrifice to 
 Paul and Barnabas by the people of Lystra, Acts xiv : 
 
58 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 — (2) The miraculous draught of fishes, Luke v : — 
 (3) Christ's charge to Peter, John xxi : — (4) Peter and 
 John healing the lame at the gate of the temple, Acts 
 iii : — (5) The death of Annanias, Acts v : — (6) Ely- 
 mas the sorcerer struck with blindness, Acts xiii : — (7) 
 Paul preaching at Athens, Acts xvii. 
 
 In the University Galleries are to be seen the original 
 sketches and drawings, in different degrees of complete- 
 ness, of many of the works of Raphael and of Michael 
 Angelo ; an hundred and sixty-two of Raphael, 
 and seventy-nine of Angelo. One will notice here, 
 in this remarkable collection, which probably has not 
 its parallel in the world, how the various striking and 
 sublime conceptions, which are discoverable in theix 
 works, gradually broke in upon their minds ; and how 
 by repeated touches and after thoughts they were 
 raised from the first imperfect outline to their ultimate 
 perfection. So true it is that the greatest geniuses 
 master their subjects by degrees ; and that men, who 
 aim to produce anything truly worthy and enduring, 
 accept the pains of labor as the purchase of renown. 
 
 In closing this letter, you will allow me to refer to 
 the name of one man, whose influence is widely felt 
 in America, that of John Wesley. It would be doing 
 injustice, to rank Wesley with the ordinary leaders of 
 religious sects ; at least as far as intellectual power 
 and literary culture are concerned. Take him, in the 
 various combination of his qualities, the clearness and 
 breadth of his perceptions, the warmth of his heart, 
 the purity and vigor of his style of speech and wri- 
 ting, his moral daring, his unconquerable perseverance, 
 and where will you look for his superior or even his 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 59 
 
 equal. It was at Oxford, at first, in Christ Church 
 College, and subsequently in Lincoln College, that 
 the powers of this remarkable man were trained. 
 
 (VII.) 
 
 Visit to the palace of Blenheim, the residence of the Duke of Marl- 
 borough — Town of Woodstock — Triumphal arch — General appear- 
 ance of the park and palace of Blenheim — Works of art — Statue of 
 Queen Anne — Rosamond's bower — Roman villa. 
 
 OXFORD, ENGLAND, OCT. 11, 1852. 
 
 About eight miles distant from Oxford, is the palace 
 of Blenheim, the residence of Churchill, the justly cele- 
 brated Duke of Marlborough. This splendid pile of 
 architecture, named the palace of Blenheim, from the 
 village of Blenheim on the banks of the Danube, where 
 Marlborough successfully fought the French and Ba- 
 varians, was erected under the direction of Sir John 
 Vanbrugh, an eminent architect in the reign of Queen 
 Anne. The numerous works of Vanbrugh are char- 
 acterized by architectural skill ; but the evidences of 
 genius which they display, have not exempted them 
 from the criticism of heaviness in their appearance ; — 
 a criticism which was so frequently and in some cases 
 so justly made, that it gave rise to the caustic couplet, 
 which it was thought might appropriately form a part 
 of his epitah : — 
 
 " Lie heavy on him, earth; for he 
 Laid many a heavy load on thee." 
 
60 LETTERS AESTHETIC. 
 
 It is not clear to me, that strictures of this kind, if 
 they are meant to imply an architectural defect, are 
 justly applicable to the palace of Blenheim, which 
 combines beauty with strength and solidity ; and is 
 certainly a magnificent building. Blenheim palace 
 was built, chiefly though not exclusively, at the ex- 
 pense of the English nation, for the Duke of Marl- 
 borough ; and in acknowledgement of his great ser- 
 vices, both in council, and in many a hard fought field 
 of battle. Among the distinguished men of England, 
 Marlborough stands prominent; and the remark is 
 sometimes made, that in many of his traits of char- 
 acter, and especially in the incidents of his political 
 and military history, he resembled the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, whose recent death has produced so profound 
 a sensation. 
 
 In visiting the palace of Blenheim it was a pleas- 
 ure to me to pass through the ancient town of Wood- 
 stock, which was once a flourishing place, and has 
 some historical celebrity. I found none of the smaller 
 towns of England, in the arrangement and appear- 
 ance of their streets and buildings, carrying back my 
 mind so distinctly to the state of things, as it proba- 
 bly existed two centuries ago. It may be proper to 
 remark here, that Chaucer, who may justly be regarded 
 as the father of English poetry, and who will compare 
 well with the poets of any age or country, resided 
 here for some time ; and has made a number of allu- 
 sions in his writings to the beautiful scenery in its 
 neighborhood. Some of the most interesting scenes 
 in Scott's novel of Woodstock are laid in this vicinity. 
 
 In going to the palace, I passed from Woodstock 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 61 
 
 through a quadrangular space on the right hand of 
 which Chaucer resided, and then through a large tri- 
 umphal arch, erected by the duchess of Marlborough, 
 the year after the decease of the Duke. This arch, 
 which is of the Corinthian order, is an object of con- 
 siderable attraction. On the side next to Woodstock 
 is a Latin inscription, with an English translation on 
 the opposite side, to this effect ; — that it was erected 
 by his wife as a monument of her husband's glory and 
 a testimonial of her own affection. 
 
 I had advanced within the gateway of this arch 
 but a few paces, when I felt myself to be in the pres- 
 ence of a combined scene of the works of art and na- 
 ture, rarely exceeded in extent and beauty ; — before 
 me in a southern direction the vast palace, with its 
 turrets and minarets, obscured in part but not with 
 any unfavorable effect on the general outline, by the 
 luxuriant beeches and elms ; in another direction a 
 fine sheet of water spanned by a superb stone bridge ; 
 on the rising grounds beyond the bridge, a lofty column 
 erected to the memory of the Duke ; — and on every 
 side the park with its undulating grounds, its green 
 openings, its herds of deer reposing quietly or stand- 
 ing gracefully erect at gaze, and its clumps and groups 
 of trees. The column, erected in honor of the Duke, 
 stands on an elevated piece of ground ; and being it- 
 self of the great height of an hundred and thirty feet, 
 and surmounted at its summit by a lofty statue of the 
 distinguished man to whom it is erected, with no build- 
 ings or other objects near, which might have the effect 
 to divert one's attention from it, it has the aspect of 
 some mighty but solitary existence, standing in the 
 6 
 
62 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 calm repose of conscious majesty and strength, and 
 surveying at leisure the splendid domain around him. 
 Passing on to the Mall, which is a wide and thick- 
 ly shaded avenue, leading from another gate of the 
 Blenheim domain, called the Kensington Gate, and 
 turning to the right and passing through the vast iron 
 doors of the Eastern Gateway, I found myself within 
 the walls of this splendid palatial monument, erected 
 by a nation's munificence in honor of the public ser- 
 vices of one of her distinguished sons. Blenheim is 
 not only a palace, but a great repository of the works 
 of art ; and on entering within it I almost forgot the 
 vast extent and strength of the building and the genius 
 displayed in its construction, in the contemplation of 
 the sculptures, statuary, and paintings which adorn it 
 within. I will not undertake to give an account of 
 the various rooms which are politely opened to the 
 visitor, any further than to say they are adorned on 
 every side with works from the hands of the most 
 distinguished masters ; — paintings on the ceiling by 
 Thornhill ; bronze statues by Benzi ; busts and stat- 
 ues by Eysbrach ; — paintings, which require no inter- 
 preter to explain their merit, by Hudson, Holbein, Rey- 
 nolds, Rubens, Vandyck, Raphael, Carlo Dolce, Knel- 
 ler, Teniers, Rembrandt, Titian and others. In differ- 
 ent places I have seen excellent paintings from some 
 or all of these masters ; but in the various attributes 
 of invention, arrangement, coloring, and whatever else 
 constitutes the excellence of a painting, I think some 
 of the best of their works are to be found at Blenheim. 
 The first and second State Drawing Rooms are hung, 
 in part, with beautiful tapestries, representing some of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 63 
 
 the successful battles and sieges, which were conduct- 
 ed under the lead of Marlborough; — among others the 
 battle of Dunnewert on the Danube, in Bavaria, which 
 was fought July 3d, 1704, the battle of Lisle, which 
 was fought Dec. 9th, 1708, and the siege of Lisle, 
 which took place in the same year. I was surprised 
 to find in this palace, erected as it was without any 
 specific view to literary or scientific objects, a very 
 valuable library, consisting of seventeen thousand vol- 
 umes. The Library Room, an hundred and eighty- 
 three feet in length, occupies the entire south-west 
 front of the palace, and favorably impresses the visi- 
 tor by its size, proportions, and numerous and rich 
 decorations. In this room there is a white marble 
 statue of Queen Anne, highly finished, by Rysbrach. 
 She is represented in her coronation robes, and on the 
 pedestal is the following inscription : — 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF QUEEN ANNE S 
 
 UNDER WHOSE AUSPICES 
 
 JOHN DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH 
 
 CONQUERED, 
 
 AND TO WHOSE MUNIFICENCE 
 
 HE AND HIS POSTERITY 
 
 WITH GRATITUDE 
 
 OWE THE POSSESSION OF BLENHEIM 
 
 A. D. MDCCXXVI. 
 
 England is to me classic ground. It is not only the 
 place of the residence of my ancestors, and thus en- 
 deared by a series of associations "which are strong 
 and peculiar, but almost every spot, which a stranger 
 visits, has some close and interesting connection with 
 history and literature. In this vicinity, for instance, 
 
64 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 was the residence of Chaucer; here is the scene of 
 one of the popular novels of Scott ; here are the me- 
 morials of a man, who fills with one or two exceptions, 
 the most conspicuous place in English history ; and 
 here within these very domains, its site marked by 
 two large sycamore trees, was once an ancient palace 
 which had its attractions in its day and was the fre- 
 quent resort of royalty ; of which however, there are 
 at present no remains. It was within the walls of this 
 ancient royal residence, that the princess Elizabeth, 
 afterwards Elizabeth queen of England, was confined 
 as a prisoner by her sister, queen Mary. During her 
 imprisonment here, the room assigned her was once 
 on fire, whether by design or otherwise is not known, 
 and her life was endangered by it. With that high 
 and impassioned spirit, of which she afterwards gave 
 evidence, she felt her imprisonment very keenly ; and 
 one day when she saw a milkmaid passing by her 
 window and singing in the gaiety of her humble 
 heart, the tears rolled down the cheek of the princess, 
 and the wish escaped her lips, — a wish expressed by 
 many others in high stations, — that a condition in life 
 equally happy and equally humble had been her own. 
 She composed, while immured here, a number of ver- 
 ses, written with charcoal on the window shutter of 
 her prison-room, which have been preserved, — begin- 
 ning as follows : — 
 
 " Oh, fortune ! How thy restless wavering state, 
 Hath fraught with cares my troubled wit." 
 
 Here also, — -a place not uninteresting to those who 
 wish to know the history and resources of guilty pas- 
 sion, — is Rosamond's spring or well, the supposed 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 65 
 
 place of Rosamond's bower, and of the secret laby- 
 rinth which connected the bower and the old palace ; 
 the "fair Rosamond," well known in tradition and 
 song, who was so wrongfully loved and sought by 
 Henry Second. 
 
 About three miles distant from the palace of Blen- 
 heim, but on the lands of the Duke of Marlborough, a 
 small quadrangular Roman villa has lately been dis- 
 covered. Like many ancient towns and cities, it had 
 been covered up and hidden for centuries in the earth, 
 which had gathered around it, but has been brought 
 to light within a few years. Time did not allow me 
 to go and see it, but I learned that the foundations 
 of an ancient building had been traced ; that rooms 
 and passages, ornamented with tesselated pavements, 
 had been discovered, — also, baths, urns, and , articles 
 of earthen ware. It is said, that numerous coins, some 
 of them silver, have been excavated. The Romans 
 evacuated Britain in the year 448 ; and the supposi- 
 tion, therefore, is, that the remains of this villa must 
 be at least fourteen hundred years old. 
 
 I do not know, that I have anything further to say 
 of Oxford and its vicinity at present. What I have 
 said is only an outline, a sketch ; made partly to assist 
 my own remembrances. My visit has been a pleasant 
 and profitable one ; though I cannot deny, that here 
 and elsewhere I have found one drawback nom that 
 happiness which I might otherwise have experienced. 
 It is that very many of the public works and monu- 
 ments, and also many private works of art, have rela- 
 tion in various ways, to a state of war and to those 
 sentiments of ambition and military glory which have 
 6* 
 
66 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 connection with war. Bolinbroke, in speaking of Marl- 
 borough says, " I honor his memory as the greatest 
 general and as the greatest minister, that our country, 
 or perhaps any other has produced." The inscription 
 on the lofty column erected to his memory, which is 
 said to have been written by Bolinbroke, speaks of his 
 military achievements " performed within a few years, 
 as sufficient to adorn the annals of ages." Happy will 
 be the day when it shall be understood, that peace has 
 its trophies ; — that the whole system of war, which 
 may be described as a system that arrays selfishness 
 against selfishness, is based upon wrong principles 
 and wrong feelings ; — that the doctrines of the gospel, 
 which have never had their full effect, contemplate the 
 substitution of confidence for jealousy, of love for 
 hatred, and the establishment of universal pacification 
 and harmony. 
 
 (VIII.) 
 
 Visit to Dover in England, and to Calais in France — Remarks upon 
 Dover — Shakspeare's cliff — Explanations of emotions of beauty 
 and sublimity — Historical associations connected with the English 
 channel — Siege of Calais by Edward III — Story of Eustace de 
 Pierre. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 2, 1852. 
 
 After the date of my last letter, I came to London. 
 Since then, for a practical purpose, I have made a 
 short excursion to France, and returned here again. 
 In this excursion I made a little stay at Dover and 
 Calais. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 67 
 
 The town of Dover is situated at the straits of the 
 English channel. It derives its name from a Saxon 
 word, which means declivity or steep place ; and which 
 indicates, therefore, one of its striking natural features. 
 Dover is interesting by its locality and its history. — - 
 From this point, more frequently perhaps than from 
 any other, the traveller to the continent starts on his 
 tour of pleasure, of knowledge, or of mercantile specu- 
 lation. From this point fleets and armies have set 
 out on their destination of blood and conquest ; and 
 here, justified, as I suppose, by a necessity which 
 would not exist if men were what God requires them 
 to be, " the meteor flag of England" still floats, but 
 not as an emblem of pacification and confidence, amid 
 the bayonets and cannon of her castle and numerous 
 fortifications. The town is imbosomed in high hills, 
 which are cultivated to the top ; but which, on the 
 side of the ocean, break down perpendicularly, and 
 present for many miles in length and hundreds of feet 
 in height, their white chalky bosoms, to the gaze of 
 the mariner. One of these remarkable eminences, 
 three hundred feet in height, is known as " Shak- 
 speare's Cliff." Early in the morning, inspired by my 
 recollection of what Shakspeare has said of it in the 
 tragedy of Lear, I ascended to the summit of this 
 cliff, and approaching cautiously to its very edge, and 
 looking down upon the beach and the wide expanded 
 ocean, I can bear testimony, in this instance at least, 
 to the remarkable truth and power of his description, 
 
 The morning was dark and lowering, and heavy 
 mists hung over the distant coasts of France. The 
 ocean's wave broke angrily upon the shore, but I could 
 
68 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 scarcely hear its sound so high. Large ships were in 
 sight, though diminished to the eye in the distance ; 
 the fishermen's boats, of which a number could be 
 seen, were but small, moving specks upon the ocean. 
 The sea birds, small as I looked down upon them, 
 floated lazily by; and I experienced at this great 
 height the very sensation to which the great poet has 
 alluded in the first lines of his description. 
 
 " How fearful. 
 And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eye so low ! 
 The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, 
 Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade ! 
 Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. 
 The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
 Appear like mice. 
 
 I '11 look no more, 
 Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
 Topple down headlong." 
 
 There was one feature in this scene as it was pre- 
 sented to my eyes, which Shakspeare has not de- 
 scribed, and which I am at a loss to conjecture how he 
 would have disposed of. While I was standing upon 
 this giddy eminence, the railroad cars for London came 
 suddenly in sight ; and with lightning speed, as if they 
 had the power of sundering mountains, dashed through 
 the tunnelled base of the vast cliff' which bears his 
 name. When will a moving rail-car with its iron steed 
 take its place in the imagination, and be embodied in 
 the language of a Shakspeare ? 
 
 The incidents which I have related, naturally lead 
 to another topic. When the feelings are excited in 
 any considerable degree, it is difficult to analyze them, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 69 
 
 and to ascertain the laws by which they arise and by 
 which they are regulated. What I experienced on 
 this occasion, however, as it appeared both at the time 
 and in my subsequent reflections, tended to confirm 
 the opinions I had entertained, and to which I have 
 referred in a former letter, in relation to the principles 
 of the sublime and beautiful. Undoubtedly one of 
 the elements of sublimity is great height ; but it is 
 also true, I think, (and this is the view which is taken 
 in Burke's treatise on the subject,) that great depth, 
 opened distinctly before us, is likewise calculated to 
 excite sublime emotions ! But to my mind it is clear 
 also, that these emotions are not heightened by our 
 being in a position where we suppose that there is 
 some personal danger, and where the feeling of dread 
 arises. It is true there is generally greater mental 
 agitation, there is really at the moment more develop- 
 ment and exercise of the mental susceptibilities ; but 
 it is a mixed state, and not exclusively and purely the 
 experience of sublime emotions. Fear is a painful 
 feeling ; it is always based either upon a sense of 
 wrong doing or a conviction of comparative littleness 
 and feebleness ; and although it agitates the mind, 
 and has great power, it is a power rather to convulse 
 and to detract, than to harmonize and to add. But 
 the experience of sublimity, when that experience ex- 
 ists in the highest degree, is always attended with 
 tranquility ; the soul gives itself fully and peaceably 
 to the influence of the sublime object ; it discovers 
 there truth and beauty, as well as power and magni- 
 tude ; and receiving, therefore, the influence of the 
 sublime object into itself without the mental diversions 
 
70 
 
 LETTERS— ESTHETIC, 
 
 and hindrances occasioned by personal danger and 
 fear, it becomes conscious of new elements of beauty 
 and sublimity, hidden in its own nature, and expands 
 and ascends — I think it may be said in something 
 more than a metaphorical sense — into a higher sphere 
 of existence. And therefore I think that angels, (and 
 all pure and holy beings, whatever may be their name,) 
 have a truer and deeper sense of the sublimity of 
 things, than impure and wicked beings can possibly 
 have ; although the latter may probably have as clear 
 a perception of height and depth and other natural 
 elements of greatness, as the former. 
 
 When standing upon the Dover Cliffs, and casting 
 my eye abroad upon the English channel, I could not 
 but remember how often these seas, destined under 
 better auspices to float the navies of a peaceful com- 
 merce, have borne hostile fleets and armies, and have 
 been red with blood. Upon these very waters have 
 passed and repassed, again and again, the kingly in- 
 vaders of France and England, — flushed with victory, 
 or trembling with defeat. It was here, in part at least, 
 and in combats disgraceful to humanity, and especial- 
 ly disgraceful to those who bear the christian and 
 protestant name, that Van Tromp and De Ruyter, 
 names baptized in English blood, gained their terrible 
 celebrity. It was here at an earlier period that the 
 Spanish Armada, vainly styled the invincible, floated 
 in strength and in terror, till, awakening the displeas- 
 ure of a higher power, it was touched by the breath 
 of the Almighty, and scattered by the ordinance of 
 God. 
 
 The reminiscences of those sanguinary times and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 71 
 
 wars, and of the jealousies and hatreds which char- 
 acterized them, are to be found on both sides of the 
 channel. Dover and other accessible places on the 
 English coast are bristling with fortifications, and with 
 the various appurtenances and implements of war; 
 but not more so than the towns on the other side, both 
 on the coast and in the near vicinity. If it would be 
 folly for France to attempt the invasion of England, 
 it would be equal folly for England to attempt to in- 
 vade France, which, if my eye has not deceived me, 
 has placed herself in a state of formidable prepara- 
 tion at every, assailable point. As a general thing, I 
 took but little pleasure in examining the numerous 
 and massy fortifications to which I have referred, and 
 which are in poor keeping with modern civilization 
 and hopes ; but I must confess my curiosity led me to 
 make an exception in favor of the old walls of Calais, 
 which are still in a great measure standing as they 
 stood centuries ago. Walls and fortifications are ad- 
 ded, but the old one, in its great strength, still exists ; 
 — Calais being an exposed point of France, and hav- 
 ing been the theatre of many sieges and battles. 
 
 There is one incident in the history of this ancient 
 city which was recalled to my mind during the short 
 visit which I was enabled to make to it. The student 
 of English history will perhaps recollect that the city 
 of Calais was besieged in 1346 by Edward III. of 
 England. It was for a long time obstinately defend- 
 ed by its inhabitants, until having exhausted all their 
 provisions, and being in the extremities of famine, 
 their governor, John de Vienne, appeared upon the 
 walls of the city, and offered to capitulate. The king 
 
72 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 of England, incensed at their obstinate resistance, 
 which had kept him eleven months before the city, 
 sent one of his distinguished officers, Sir Walter 
 Manny, to acquaint the governor that the only terms 
 he would either propose or accept, would be a surren- 
 der at discretion. The patriotic governor remonstra- 
 ted, and, at the suggestion and advice of many, Ed- 
 ward at last consented to grant their lives to all the 
 soldiers and citizens, on the condition that six of the 
 principal inhabitants should come to him with the 
 keys of the city, and with ropes about their necks. — 
 And there was no doubt on the minds of any, that 
 their immediate death was to be made the expiation 
 of the obstinate bravery which had been manifested 
 in the siege. 
 
 As would naturally be expected, the proposition 
 thus to give up six of their principal citizens to cer- 
 tain death in order to save their own lives, plunged 
 the people of Calais in the greatest distress, and they 
 knew not what to do. In the agony of silence and 
 tears which followed, a citizen of distinction and 
 wealth, Eustace de Pierre, came forth before the mul- 
 titude, and offered himself as one of the six who 
 should thus devote their lives for the people. Anima- 
 ted by his example, another patriotic and distinguish- 
 ed citizen soon came forward, and then another and 
 another, till the number was completed. With a gene- 
 rosity, of which we have hardly an equal example in 
 all history, these noble-minded men passed through 
 the opened gates of Calais ; and bare-headed and 
 bare-footed, with ropes about their necks, came into 
 the presence of the incensed and revengeful Edward. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 73 
 
 Everything indicated that they were soon to die. — 
 Tears, remonstrances, advice had no effect upon the 
 king ; till at last, his queen, whose virtuous and no- 
 ble character is the theme of historians, seeing him 
 about to commit an act disgraceful to himself and 
 dishonorable to humanity, appeared before him in 
 their behalf, and did not hesitate with earnestness, and 
 on her knees,- to supplicate their lives. It was thus 
 that woman occupied the sphere of beneficence which 
 Providence has assigned her. Love conquered ven- 
 geance. The king, yielding to affection what he had 
 designed as the victim of his hatred, granted her re- 
 quest. And this noble princess, not satisfied with this, 
 conducted the excellent citizens whom she had saved to 
 her apartments, treated them with marks of kindness 
 and distinction, and dismissed them with presents. 
 
 In connection with this subject I will mention one 
 or two incidents further, which have some relation to 
 it. I was walking alone in the streets of Calais, amus- 
 ing and instructing myself with notices of its ancient 
 streets and buildings, and also with the groups of men, 
 women and children, with countenances, costumes and 
 habits, quite different in many respects from those to 
 which I had been accustomed ; and as I looked upon 
 them, conversing, chattering, laughing, buying, sell- 
 ing, singing, weeping, each acting out his own dispo- 
 sitions in his own way, I found my own identity, if I 
 may so express it, enlarging itself and mysteriously 
 entering into a partnership with the common feeling. 
 It is good, I said to myself, to see men and nations, if 
 for no other reason, because it teaches us the lesson 
 of a community of hearts, and that the distinctions 
 7 
 
74 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 of nationality do not and cannot destroy the wider 
 bond of universal brotherhood. And as I stood thus 
 talking with my own heart, a French gentleman came 
 near me, obviously a man of intelligence, who under- 
 stood English better than I did French, and who told 
 me in answer to my inquiries, that the public square 
 of Calais, on one side of which I was then standing, 
 was the place in which the people assembled, with 
 grief and dismay, when the terrible ultimatum of Ed- 
 ward was announced to them. And with the kindness 
 and grace which I found everywhere in Frenchmen, 
 he invited me, perceiving me to be a stranger, into the 
 ancient town-hall of Calais, and showed me a large 
 painting, (the name of the painter has escaped my 
 memory, but the painting seemed to me to be a work 
 of very considerable merit,) which had for its subject 
 the touching transactions which I have mentioned. — 
 And I must confess it made a strong appeal to my 
 feelings, when I saw before me, in figures as large as 
 life, and on the very spot of their proffered martyrdom, 
 the noble and self-sacrificing men who offered their 
 lives for their country, — bearing to the English tents 
 the keys of the city, and with ropes about their necks, 
 and followed by their distracted wives and children, 
 and the agitated multitude of the people. The mem- 
 ory of these transactions lives indelibly in the hearts 
 of the people of Calais, — both a monument and a 
 stimulant to great virtue. 
 
 This is one of those affecting incidents which give 
 interest to history, and which show, amid the degra- 
 dation and crimes of our race, that there is still some- 
 thing which imparts dignity to man. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 75 
 
 In passing the channel from Dover my eye rested 
 for a long time upon the long line of chalky cliffs 
 which terminate the coast of England ; but the simi- 
 larity of geological appearance in some places on the 
 Calais side suggested the idea that France and Eng- 
 land at some former period may have been united at 
 this point, and subsequently rent asunder by the ac- 
 tion of the ocean. Worthy of notice, and in the vi- 
 cinity of Calais, (at least in its vicinity since the es- 
 tablishment of railroads,) are the cities of St. Omer 
 and Lille ; — St. Omer known for its seminaries, and 
 Lille for its manufactories ; — both strongly fortified, 
 and both of them, especially Lille, memorable by their 
 historical associations. In Lille, which has been in a 
 remarkable degree the theatre of sieges and battles, 
 is one of the strongest citadels in Europe, erected 
 under the direction of the celebrated Vauban. The 
 country in this part of France is low, level, and marshy. 
 It appeared to me to be neither fertile nor well culti- 
 vated ; at least as compared with the fertility and the 
 cultivation, which are often seen in England and in 
 many parts of America. But I was told that I should 
 find it different in the south of France. 
 
 (IX.) 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF MENTAL ACTION. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 5, 1852. 
 
 In one of my former letters I referred to some men- 
 tal experiences, of which I was the subject during my 
 passage across the Atlantic, which seemed to me to 
 
76 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 illustrate and confirm some general principles of mind. 
 One of the questions of interest in mental philosophy 
 is the inquiry — Whether the mind is so constituted, 
 that it is susceptible, by its own laws of action, of re- 
 viving entirely its past history, — however distant that 
 history may be in time, or however indistinct its out- 
 line. 
 
 Lord Bacon has somewhere expressed the opinion 
 very distinctly, that such is the fact ; and that what- 
 ever has been a portion of man's mental history can 
 never be absolutely lost ; but remains forever in alle- 
 giance to and in connection with the mind, although 
 it is not always a subject of immediate consciousness. 
 And this, as is well known, was a favorite opinion of 
 Coleridge ; and I infer from some passages in his wri- 
 tings, that it was an opinion also of President Ed- 
 wards, as it has been undoubtedly, and is, of many 
 others. My own mental history confirms this view, 
 of which I will now give an illustration, — with which 
 however, I am obliged to connect a few prefatory de- 
 tails. 
 
 Many years since, in the earlier period of my life, 
 news came to the village in which I resided, that one 
 of our esteemed citizens, the captain of a merchant 
 vessel, was lost at sea. When the sad and unexpect- 
 ed news reached his wife, who loved him tenderly, 
 she was entirely overcome, and died in a short time 
 of a broken heart. Seeing in the street one day a lit- 
 tle boy, who seemed lonely and sad, I learned that he 
 was the child of the parents who had thus been taken 
 away ; and feeling pity for him, I took him home, gave 
 him my own name, and adopted him as a son. I al- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 77 
 
 lowed my affections to twine around him ; and en- 
 deavored with God's assistance, to be not only a friend 
 but a father. When he became of fourteen or fifteen 
 years of age, that instinct of the ocean which had led 
 his father to be a sailor, began to exhibit itself, and he 
 expressed to me a wish to follow the same course of 
 life. My recollection of the sorrowful fate of his pa- 
 rents, and I may add my desire to do my whole duty 
 to him and for him, led me to refuse at the time my 
 assent to his wishes, — qualified by the remark, how- 
 ever, that when he should reach his nineteenth year, if 
 these views and wishes continued, I should probably 
 feel it my duty to let him decide for himself. In the 
 meanwhile I taught him daily, both in human knowl- 
 edge, and in the principles of religion ; and for some 
 time he was a member of a college. Continually he 
 grew in my affections ; and had become, I may per- 
 haps say, a part of my existence. "When he reached 
 the period of life which I have specified, I found that 
 the same strong desire of a sea-faring life existed ; and 
 the commander of a merchant vessel from our own 
 place, a man to whom he was related and of great 
 excellence of character, offering to take a special in- 
 terest in him, I consented, not without sorrow and 
 misgiving, to his departure. 
 
 The vessel sailed from a port in Massachusetts. It 
 was the unfavorable month of December. And on the 
 fourth day of its departure, it was overtaken by a 
 most violent storm. Some of the vessels that sailed 
 about the same time, returned to port dismasted or 
 otherwise injured, but after some weeks of suspense, 
 
 the news came that this vessel was lost. When I heard 
 
 7# 
 
78 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 the intelligence, I was greatly affected ; and retiring 
 to my private room, I remained for some time alone, 
 without being able to communicate it to others. My 
 imagination placed before me those sufferings and 
 that last cry of agony, which I could neither share nor 
 control. But while I was thus mourning alone, that 
 sympathetic instinct which interprets the signs of 
 calamity almost without knowing them, spread a 
 gloom over the family \ and in a little time a knock 
 was heard at my door, and the only sister of my ship- 
 wrecked son came in, whom I had also taken and 
 adopted as a daughter. There were only two of them, 
 and they loved each other with great affection. With 
 a lip tremulous with emotion, she asked me if her 
 brother was lost. I was obliged to answer, such was 
 the nature of the intelligence, that I had no hope of 
 seeing him again. We sat together, and wept bitterly. 
 Under those impulses of our nature, which those 
 understand who have lost beloved friends, I visited 
 the place from which the vessel sailed. It was a mel- 
 ancholy satisfaction to me to tread the place which 
 was marked by his last footsteps when he left the 
 shore. I learned the course of the winds, the direc- 
 tion of the vessel, the probable distance at sea ; and 
 ascertaining afterwards that a portion of the cargo 
 had been found in a particular latitude, my own mind 
 at last located, with some degree of precision, the 
 scene of this heavy calamity. And there, in that defi- 
 nite spot of the ocean which had become settled in 
 my thoughts and imagination, I buried the orphan 
 boy whom I had adopted and loved. Always after- 
 wards when I thought of him, it was in that particu- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 79 
 
 lar locality. Imagination, acting upon a few facts and 
 probabilities, had selected a burial place, and erected 
 a tomb in the depths of the sea, and had even adorn- 
 ed it with flowers, and affection accepted and sancti- 
 fied the memorial ; and after that there was no change. 
 So painful was this event that I seldom alluded to it 
 in conversation. Perhaps I may say that I never told 
 my sorrow, because language has no expression for it. 
 And yet I nourished it in my memory. Often, very 
 often, has my heart alone gone down into the depths 
 of the ocean, and held communion with that solitary 
 and sea-beaten tomb. 
 
 "When recently I sailed from New York in the Arc- 
 tic, about to trust myself to the same uncertain ocean, 
 it is strange to me that I did not think of this poor 
 boy. But so it was. It was perhaps owing to the 
 many trying thoughts and feelings which then crowd- 
 ed upon me. We had sailed more than a thousand 
 miles, when he first recurred to my memory ; and when 
 the ship was passing in that region, and perhaps I may 
 say over the very spot, where I had located his tomb. 
 And in a moment, under these peculiar circumstances, 
 my awakened memory placed him before me ; distinct 
 as life ; not a trace in his form or features altered. — ■ 
 There he stood, like one coming up from the midst of 
 the waves. And to my quickened imagination, and 
 to my agitated heart which converted a vision into 
 reality, he threw his arms around my neck and said ; — 
 " father, you are come." Men may call such things 
 an illusion, but they have a truth, a basis of reality in 
 them ; and my heart felt its power. My emotions be- 
 came uncontrollable. I was obliged to go to the little 
 
80 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 room assigned me in the ship ; and there I shut my- 
 self up all the day ; and this sad and dear image was 
 with me all the time. It was not an ordinary form of 
 remembrance, but a combined action of imagination 
 and memory, and so vivid as to make the image it 
 presented a virtual reality. My lost boy was before 
 me. And all his early life was recalled, our walks and 
 our conversations, and the home which he loved so 
 much, and our happy hours, and his sister, and the 
 other orphans I had taken and brought up with him. 
 I wept continually, but I had no power and no dis- 
 position to remove him from my side. 
 
 But I find I cannot go on with this subject. The 
 very recollection overcomes me. I will only add in 
 relation to the topic, with which I began this letter — 
 the power of restoration which exists in the mind — I 
 am quite certain of one thing, that my own soul has 
 not, in any proper and absolute sense of the term, lost 
 anything which it ever knew ; at least it has lost noth- 
 ing which it ever loved. There are depths and lodging 
 places in it which may be hidden for a while ; but 
 which decay can never reach ; which time can never 
 alter, which seem to me to be beyond the explanations 
 of atheism and materialism ; and which, — I would say 
 it with humility but with confidence, — are written 
 over with the marks and signatures of a divine power, 
 and are held in the keeping of immortality. 
 
 Unable at the time to which I refer, to see or con- 
 verse with any one, my feelings took the turn which 
 they sometimes do when they are strongly moved, and 
 embodied themselves in the following stanzas. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 81 
 
 LINES FROM THE OCEAN, ON A SON LOST AT SEA. 
 
 Boy of my earlier days and hopes ! Once more, 
 Dear child of memory, of love, of tears ! 
 
 I see thee, as I saw in days of yore, 
 
 As in thy young, and in thy lovely years. 
 
 The same in youthful look, the same in form, 
 The same the gentle voice I used to hear, 
 
 Though many a year hath passed, and many a storm 
 Hath dash'd its foam around thy cruel bier. 
 
 Deep in the stormy ocean's hidden cave, 
 
 Buried and lost to human care and sight, 
 
 What power hath interposed to rend thy grave ? 
 
 What arm hath brought thee thus to light and life ? 
 
 I weep,— the tears my aged cheek that stain, 
 
 The throbs once more that swell my aching breast, 
 
 Embody years of anxious thought and pain, 
 
 That wept and watched around that place of rest. 
 
 Oh, leave me not, my child ! Or, if it be, 
 
 That, coming thus, thou canst not longer stay, 
 
 Yet shall this kindly visit's mystery 
 
 Give rise to hopes, that never can decay. 
 
 Dear, cherished image from thy stormy bed ! 
 
 Child of my early woe and early joy ! 
 'Tis thus at last the sea shall yield its dead, 
 
 And give again my lov'd, my buried boy. 
 
 (X.) 
 
 The river Thames — Bridges — The Thames tunnel — The tower and its 
 curiosities — Algernon Sidney — Houses of Parliament— Churches — 
 St. Paul's and its monuments — British Museum — Remarks. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 6, 1852. 
 
 The week which closes to-day has been character- 
 ized by events which have great significancy, — the 
 election of a President of the United States, upon 
 
82 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 which will be likely to turn the movements of a great 
 nation ; the assembling of the British Parliament, a 
 body of men who hold in their hands the political con- 
 trol of a large portion of the human race ; and the 
 meeting of the Senate of France, assembled for the 
 purpose of taking the initiative in the re-establishment 
 of the French empire. These events take hold of the 
 future, and have a connection with results which no 
 human eye can foresee ; but which may be left with- 
 out misgiving or fear in the hands of that Great Being 
 who forgets neither men nor nations. 
 
 I have not as yet attended the meetings of Parlia- 
 ment, because they have necessarily been occupied al- 
 most exclusively with the verification of the claims of 
 the members, and the taking of the customary oaths. 
 This I intend to do at an early opportunity. In the 
 meanwhile I will take a little survey of London, 
 which, although it does not stand alone and without 
 competitors, yet seems to me to be first among the 
 great centres of modern thought, enterprize and civi- 
 lization. And in speaking of London it is not well to 
 forget that which is in reality its origin, and the source 
 of its long continued greatness and wealth ; I mean 
 the river Thames, whose history like that of the Nile 
 and the Euphrates has become a part of the history 
 of the human race. England is the great mother of 
 free states and kingdoms ; and at some future time 
 when her palaces and towers shall have crumbled, her 
 children from distant parts of the world will stand up- 
 on the banks of the Thames, and exclaim with filial 
 homage, it was here that a nation was born. 
 
 The Thames, if we regard the Isis as its principal 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 83 
 
 source, arises in the county of Gloucestershire ; and 
 flowing through some of the best portions of England, 
 is increased by various tributaries. Easy of access 
 and central in its position in relation to the great chan- 
 nels of commerce, it becomes at London bridge, and 
 thence onward in its progress of sixty miles to the 
 ocean, wide enough and deep enough to float the mer- 
 cantile navies of nations. The immense amount of 
 shipping collected together in the Thames is an indi- 
 cation, in addition to that furnished by its population 
 of two millions, of the greatness and wealth of Lon- 
 don ; and that it is the centre of communications, 
 w T hich extend to all parts of the world. The city press- 
 es the crowded banks of the river on both sides ; and 
 the Thames, which a century ago was crossed by one 
 bridge only, is now spanned by seven ; and most of 
 them exhibit a high degree of architectural beauty. — 
 Southwark bridge is of cast iron, laid upon stone piers. 
 It has three arches ; the centre arch having a span of 
 two hundred and forty feet, and said to be the largest 
 span of curve in the world. Near Hungerford Mar- 
 ket is the Suspension bridge, for foot passengers only. 
 The chains supporting it are carried over two large 
 brick piers, erected on the bed of the river and nearly 
 eighty feet in height ; making, besides two smaller 
 ones, a central span of nearly six hundred and eighty 
 feet. 
 
 In connection with the bridges of London, it is very 
 natural for one to speak of the Thames Tunnel, which 
 is certainly one of the most extraordinary and stupen- 
 dous works, which have resulted from the invention 
 and power of man. It was projected and carried 
 
84 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 through by Isambert Brunnel, a distinguished archi- 
 tect no longer living. The Thames tunnel is a sub- 
 terraneous road, twelve hundred feet in length, carried 
 under the river Thames ; and thus forming a commu- 
 nication in this remarkable manner between impor- 
 tant parts of the city. As I passed through it, it was 
 quite a new form of experience and association, when 
 I called to mind, that a vast river with its collected 
 shipping was floating over my head. 
 
 The tunnel consists of a square mass of brickwork, 
 thirty-seven feet in width by twenty-two in height, 
 which contains within it two arched passages, each of 
 them a little more than sixteen feet wide. The pas- 
 sage through which I went was well lighted with gas ;. 
 and is approached at both ends by means of great cir- 
 cular shafts, into which there is a descent over con- 
 venient and handsome staircases. The effect, as one 
 looks through the tunnel at either end, brilliantly light- 
 ed up in its whole length and so unique in its posi- 
 tion and structure, is exceedingly impressive. 
 
 I employed a waterman of the Thames to take me 
 in his boat from the London bridge to the tunnel ; and 
 in going down the river, as we wound our way amid 
 its various shipping, I passed in sight of and very near 
 to that celebrated mass of buildings, known as the 
 Tower of London. The tower, which I had visited 
 and examined a little before, is situated in the eastern 
 part of the city, and was originally the fortified resi- 
 dence of the English monarchs. 
 
 I will say a few words here of this remarkable place. 
 The tower, in its whole extent, covers a surface of 
 twelve acres, enclosed within a strong wall. Within 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 85 
 
 the wall there is a lofty square building, called the 
 White Tower. It is built upon rising ground, and is 
 ninety-two feet in height, with walls seventeen feet in 
 thickness. It was erected by William the Conquer- 
 or ; and is the most ancient part of the Tower build- 
 ings ; and for a long time it formed, of itself, the 
 " Tower of London." Our boatman, as he rowed us 
 by the side of these celebrated buildings, pointed out 
 the water-gate, called the " Traitor's Gate," through 
 which persons guilty or supposed to be guilty of high 
 political offences, are brought to the Tower. There 
 is a square tower near the water-gate, called the 
 " bloody tower," from the circumstance that it was 
 the place of the murder of two infant princes by their 
 uncle, Richard III. It was through the gateway of 
 the Bloody Tower that I had previously passed, in 
 order to examine what it is permitted visitors to see. 
 One of the objects of special interest, because it throws 
 light upon history and social progress, is the " Horse 
 Armory." The principal apartment in its interior, a 
 room of an hundred and fifty feet in length, is occu- 
 pied by an imposing line of equestrian figures, repre- 
 senting distinguished persons of different periods, 
 clothed in the iron armor of the ages in which they 
 lived, from the period of Edward First to that of 
 James Second. The view on entering this room is 
 exceedingly imposing, and enables us to realize at 
 once what we had often read before in history, but of 
 which it was difficult to form an adequate conception. 
 In reading the military history of nations a few cen- 
 turies back, we are almost as much at a loss in un- 
 derstanding it, as we oftentimes are in reading that 
 8 
 
86 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 of the Greeks and Romans. But in the various ar- 
 mories of the Tower of London, we have an explana- 
 tion far better than we can obtain in books, in their 
 general forms and in all their varieties, of the numer- 
 ous instruments which the ingenuity of men has form- 
 ed for purposes of defence or of mutual destruction ; 
 the bill and spear, the glaive, the battle-axe, the hal- 
 berd, the pike, the helmet, the " twisted mail." 
 
 I was here shown the executioner's axe, and the 
 block upon which the victims were struck, which still 
 bears the marks of the sharp blows, which fell alike, 
 at different periods, upon the innocent and the guilty. 
 This axe is said to be the one, with which the unhap- 
 py Anne Boleyn and the Earl of Essex were executed. 
 And if so, it was probably the axe, which severed the 
 head of Algernon Sidney, — a celebrated name, which 
 is cherished with respect and sympathy in America. — 
 In that part of the White Tower called Elizabeth's 
 Armory, is the apartment where Sir Walter Raleigh 
 suffered his twelve years' imprisonment. Like Sidney, 
 though perhaps less pure and inflexible in principle, 
 he was one of the distinguished men of England* 
 and in consequence of the naval enterprizes he pro- 
 jected, his name has become associated with Amer- 
 ican history. In this prison Raleigh wrote many of 
 his works ; particularly his History of the World. — 
 His wife, at her own earnest suggestion and entreaty, 
 was permitted to share his imprisonment with him, 
 and his youngest son was born in the Tower. But 
 neither the affection of his wife, nor his great talents 
 and distinguished public services, nor his learning, nor 
 his advanced age, saved him from a violent death. — 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 87 
 
 When his final hour came, the executioner asked him 
 which way he chose to place himself on the block. — 
 He replied, " if the heart be right, it is no matter which 
 way the head lies." 
 
 I observed here the cloak, on which General Wolfe 
 died in the bloody but victorious battle, which gave 
 Quebec and the Canadas to England. 
 
 In the Tower are kept the regalia or crown jewels, 
 which may be examined with pleasure, not only on 
 account of their richness, but because they are recon- 
 cilable with ideas of kindness and peace ; but as a 
 general thing the Tower can only be regarded, both 
 in what it has been and in what it now is, as a great 
 historical monument of the art of war and of human 
 bloodshed. 
 
 Higher up the Thames, (for every thing seems to 
 spring from this river as if it were a permanent source 
 of life,) are the new Houses of Parliament ; — a mag- 
 nificent pile of buildings, presenting a front on the 
 river of nine hundred feet, enriched, perhaps too much 
 so, with every thing which architectural art can fur- 
 nish, in the shape of mouldings, tracery, carvings, and 
 heraldic devices. The most striking external feature 
 in this mighty range of buildings is the Victoria Tow- 
 er, which, when completed, will be three hundred and 
 forty feet in height. 
 
 Among the royal palaces in London, the first which 
 naturally claims attention, is that of St. James. It is 
 its historical associations, however, and not its archi- 
 tecture, which seem to give it that place. It was built 
 for the most part by Henry VIII ; and for more than 
 a century previous to the year 1837, was the city resi* 
 
88 
 
 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 dence of the royal family. Since that time the pres- 
 ent queen of England, who spends the greater part of 
 her time at Windsor Castle, has occupied, when in 
 London, the Buckingham Palace. Those who have 
 visited the interior of St. James Palace, speak of its 
 numerous and well arranged apartments as convenient 
 and richly furnished ; but the casual visitor who sees 
 nothing but the outside, will find but little to excite 
 his admiration. Buckingham Palace is not far distant. 
 It occupies a large space of ground, forming a quad- 
 rangle, with a front facing St. James Park, and anoth- 
 er towards the private grounds. As compared with St. 
 James, it not only occupies a position far better, but is 
 really a beautiful and imposing edifice. The royal stan- 
 dard is now floating over it, which indicates that Vic- 
 toria is here. 
 
 The toleration of religious opinion which exists in 
 England has been favorable to the growth of the re- 
 ligious sentiment ; at least we should naturally infer so 
 from the fact, that there are said to be more than five 
 hundred places of worship, of different denominations 
 of Christians, in the city of London; — many of them 
 small, it is true, and making no pretensions to mag- 
 nificence, but still not inconsistent with true and high 
 developments of religious feeling. There are some 
 things worthy of a traveller's notice in St. Margaret's 
 church ; and not the least circumstance of interest 
 about it is, that here Sir Walter Raleigh was buried 
 on the day that he was executed. The church of St. 
 Martin in Trafalgar Square is an imposing and beau- 
 tiful building ; and the same might be said of many 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 89 
 
 other churches both in London and in other places ; 
 but by universal consent there is but one St. Paul's. 
 
 The length of St. Paul's church from east to west 
 within the walls, is five hundred feet ; its total height 
 from the ground four hundred and four feet. It was 
 built under the direction of Sir Christopher Wren; 
 and seems to have been designed not merely as a 
 place of worship, for which one of very different di- 
 mensions might have answered; but like Westminster 
 Abbey, as a grand national monument to the illustri- 
 ous dead of England. At least if such were not 
 Wren's original design, such has been the practical re- 
 sult ; for if it became impossible to fill this vast space 
 with living auditors brought within hearing distance, 
 the next best thing which could be done, was to occu- 
 py large portions of it with the dead and their monu- 
 ments. On entering the church, it is the monuments 
 of the dead, the works of eminent artists, which first 
 arrest the visitor's attention ; and I was here painfully 
 reminded, in this great temple of the Prince of Peace, 
 of the continued struggles and violences of war, as t- 
 read the names and saw the sad but proud memori- 
 als of Ponsonby, Riou, Duncan, Cornwallis, Nelson, 
 Colling wood, Brock, Pakenham and many others. I 
 paused with different feelings at the name of Johnson, 
 who has illustrated morals and literature in his wri- 
 tings; of Heber, a name dear to religion as well as to 
 literature ; and of Howard, the philanthropist. How- 
 ard is represented as wearing the Roman costume, 
 and as trampling on fetters ; — with a scroll in his left 
 hand, inscribed with the words, " Plan for the improve- 
 ment of Prisons and Hospitals." There is a basso- 
 s' 
 
90 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 relievo on the face of the pedestal of his statue, which 
 represents the interior of a prison, where he appears in 
 the act of distributing food and clothing. 
 
 I think there was no one of the public institutions, 
 which on the whole gave me more satisfaction, than 
 the great national institution, the British Museum ; — 
 an institution, which stands out to the notice of the 
 world, not only on account of its valuable library of 
 300.000 volumes, its zoological collections and fossil 
 remains ; but for the remains of works of art, — some 
 of them recently collected, — Roman, Grecian, Egyp- 
 tian, Assyrian, which throw light upon the history of 
 nations ; — and some of which will probably be found 
 important in illustrating the earlier parts of the scrip- 
 tural records. 
 
 As we look upon these wonderful remains of an- 
 tiquity, as they are thus collected together and arrang- 
 ed and preserved with great care in the British Muse- 
 um, we obtain impressions of departed empires, dis- 
 tinct, vivid, mournful ; — such as conform exceedingly 
 well to the abstract statements of history, but which 
 history alone could never give. Egypt, like life from 
 the dead, starts up before us ; bearing in her hands 
 her tombs ; — and we know her at once in her supersti- 
 tions, in her domestic life, in her conceptive power, in 
 her artistic skill, in the length and breadth of her rude 
 but massive grandeur. And when it is said in the 
 Scriptures, that Moses was " learned in all the wisdom 
 of the Egyptians," it is a satisfaction to know from 
 these varied and wonderful remains, that the sacred 
 historian, in describing these Egyptians as a wise peo- 
 ple, which implies the development, in various ways, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 91 
 
 of thought, feeling and skill, has uttered a precise his- 
 toric truth, which scepticism will in vain attempt to 
 discredit. And if the monuments themselves are a 
 memorial of a truth, there may be something, and 
 perhaps much more remaining in the inscriptions 
 which they bear. "Who knows what further and va- 
 rious light may be disclosed from these sources, when 
 the interpretation of the hieroglyphics, so happily be- 
 gun by Champollion, shall become a completed and 
 undoubted system. 
 
 I never doubted the Scriptures. I received my faith 
 from the lips of my mother ; but it was confirmed af- 
 terwards by thought and inquiry. To me, therefore, 
 the Bible has been and now is a living reality. And 
 still it has often seemed to me surprising, although it 
 has never disturbed my belief, that the Bible so fre- 
 quently indicates the existence of cities and nations, 
 (of the Assyrian empire for instance,) which could 
 hardly be exceeded in wealth and numbers, in^ civili- 
 zation and power ; and yet that these cities and nations 
 should have entirely passed away, with no memorials 
 left behind. I have nevertheless had full confidence, 
 that Providence in its mysterious methods of opera- 
 tion would ultimately settle all such suggestions and 
 difficulties. And now on the banks of the Nile, the 
 Tygris, and the Euphrates, the evidences of their great- 
 ness and splendor, long buried in the dust, have been 
 brought to light, — evidences so transcending all our 
 conceptions, — as to furnish another great miracle, if 
 other miracles were wanting, in order to sustain man's 
 faltering faith. 
 
 I feel bound to say, that some of the remains of 
 
92 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 Assyrian art, — remains which are unlike those of 
 Egypt, or any other people, — exhibit a spirit of con- 
 ception and a power of execution, which is unsurpass- 
 ed, and in some respects, as it seems to me, unequal- 
 led by those of any other nation. I have reference in 
 this remark particularly to their massive grandeur, and 
 that true spirit of the object, whatever the object is, 
 which seems to increase and dilate itself, without los- 
 ing its distinctive nature, in conformity with the vast- 
 ness of the masses in which the artist has embodied it, 
 
 These works, as well as those of Egypt, throw light 
 upon the Scriptures. It will be likely to occur to the 
 reader of the Scriptures, for instance, that the horn, as 
 an emblem of power, is often mentioned in the Old 
 Testament. And one of the first things, which attracts 
 the notice of a stranger, on entering the Nineveh gal- 
 lery in the British Museum, is the sight of horns, issu- 
 ing, upon a number of the Assyrian sculptures, from 
 a human head, and twining around it so gracefully as 
 to be an ornament as well as an emblem. The sym- 
 bolic existences, so often occurring in the books of 
 Daniel and Ezekiel, and so different from anything 
 which is found in other writers, lions with human 
 heads and with wings, and the like, are found among 
 these remains ; and it is quite possible as it seems to 
 me, that some of the very sculptures, which are now 
 seen in the British Museum and in the Louvre of Par- 
 is, had been seen by, and had received the admiration 
 of these prophets themselves. 
 
 It is true we do not as yet understand to any great 
 extent the precise import of these remarkable symbols ; 
 but still the impression is left distinct and deep upon 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 93 
 
 the mind of one who beholds them, that they really 
 had a meaning, whatever it was, which was well un- 
 derstood by the people of those early times, and that 
 their presence in the minds and in the writings of the 
 prophets was wholly in harmony with the national 
 mental culture and associations. And a remark simi- 
 lar to that which has been made in respect to the 
 Egyptian remains will apply here. Perhaps it will be 
 found that the numerous inscriptions on these remains, 
 which are very distinct and some of which have been 
 translated, will throw more light upon the scriptural 
 narrative than the monuments themselves. 
 
 I began this letter with the intention of giving some 
 idea of the city of London ; but I find I must end, 
 when I have hardly made a beginning ; and I should 
 probably be obliged to say much the same thing, if I 
 had written much more. To speak of its streets and 
 squares, its parks, its numerous monuments, its chari- 
 table institutions, its courts of justice, its commerce, 
 and other things which would naturally present them- 
 selves, would require much more time and strength 
 than I am able to claim at present. 
 
 (XL) 
 
 The opening of Parliament — The queen of England — Eespect in which 
 she is held — Queen's speech — Distinguished members of Parlia- 
 ment—Brougham, Macauley, and Cobden — Rooms of the Peers 
 and Commons. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 11, 1852. 
 
 This day the Queen of England went in state to the 
 House of Lords, to open the session of Parliament 
 
94 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 with a speech from the throne. The procession was 
 formed at Buckingham Palace, which is distant about 
 three-fourths of a mile from the Houses of Parliament, 
 and consisted in part of six carriages, all with one ex- 
 ception drawn by six horses, conveying the various 
 members of the royal household; some of them per- 
 sons of distinguished name and character. These 
 were followed by the queen's marshal-men, footmen, 
 and a party of the yeomen of the guard. Then came 
 the State carriage, distinguished not only by its rich- 
 ness and peculiarity of form,- but by its being drawn 
 by eight cream-colored horses ; conveying the queen 
 and her husband, Prince Albert, and some other dis- 
 tinguished persons. 
 
 This is one of those occasions on which the people 
 of England obtain a glimpse of their sovereign. It 
 was interesting to me to witness their earnest and re- 
 spectful curiosity ; nor do I profess to have been per- 
 sonally exempt from this feeling ; although it is min- 
 gled with other feelings of gratitude, homage, and af- 
 fection in the heart of an Englishman, which a stran- 
 ger from another land cannot be supposed to realize. 
 
 The present queen of England is beloved by the 
 people, it * seemed to me, as the sovereign of no other 
 people is loved. There have been female sovereigns 
 who have been despised or hated ; but it is not so with 
 Queen Victoria. The affection for her is not merely 
 a tribute to sovereignty, not merely official, but may 
 properly be described as personal ; and is general and 
 sincere. And the explanation of it, at least the ex- 
 planation in part, and in a considerable degree, is still 
 more interesting than the fact itself. The people of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 95 
 
 England recognize in her the great truth, that there is 
 nothing among men higher than humanity, when hu- 
 manity is true to God and itself ; and that the woman 
 is greater than the queen. They honor their sovereign 
 therefore, not merely and not chiefly on account of the 
 fact of her sovereignty, but because, in being a good 
 wife and a good mother, and in thus setting a good 
 example before the wives and mothers of England, she 
 is true to virtue and to womanhood. It is no tinge of 
 shame for vices published to the world, but the expres- 
 sion of just gratitude and pride for domestic and wo- 
 manly excellencies universally known, which stands 
 upon the face of an Englishman, as he utters the name 
 of his queen. This sentiment of veneration and love, 
 existing so deeply, and so universally expressed, and 
 having its foundation in a great degree in the reason 
 I have given, is in my view one of the most affecting 
 and striking testimonies to the value and power of 
 moral goodness. 
 
 Standing in the multitude, through which the queen 
 proceeded to meet the assembled Parliament, I felt 
 it truly a privilege to look upon this excellent woman, 
 who, in being faithful to herself, has been true and 
 faithful to her crown ; and has established her sover- 
 eignty in a nation's heart. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to remark that the speech de- 
 livered to-day before the Commons and Lords was 
 not prepared by the queen herself, but by the minis- 
 ters of the crown, who are her constitutional advisers ; 
 and as the ministers are supposed to be sustained by 
 a majority of the Commons, the speech, in the theory 
 of the Government, is the voice of the people itself, 
 
96 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 uttering its own wants in the ear of its own adminis- 
 trators. And the theory is practically carried out to 
 a considerable extent ; so that England, though mov- 
 ing slowly, on account of the great multiplicity of her 
 interests, gradually adjusts herself by a succession of 
 reforms, to the altered circumstances of ignorance and 
 knowledge, of want and supply, of time and provi- 
 dence ; and thus by keeping policy and humanity in 
 alliance, escapes the terrible shock of revolutions.— 
 The speech of to-day confirms this remark, which is 
 conciliatory and national in its spirit, and suggests a 
 number of practical reforms. 
 
 Since writing the above, and since the date of this 
 letter, I have attended the meetings of both Lords and 
 Commons ; and although I heard no debates of great 
 interest, yet I had the opportunity of seeing a few of 
 the men, Broughham, Sugden, Walpole, Lyndhurst, 
 Hume, Palmerston, Lord John Russell, D' Israeli, Glad- 
 stone, and some others who are understood to hold a 
 high parliamentary position, and to hear some remarks 
 from nearly all of them, uttered in a good spirit and 
 with good sense. The presence of the British minis- 
 ters and the practice of putting questions to them, 
 gives to the discussions here a more familiar and less 
 formal aspect than might otherwise exist. Set and 
 formal speeches, although there is no absolute exemp- 
 tion from them, are not very likely to be uttered, ex- 
 cept on occasions which require and justify them. 
 
 In the course of the remarks which I have heard in 
 the House of Commons, reference has been made to 
 the United States ; the " great Republic," as the queen 
 was pleased to call us in her speech. The topic was 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 97 
 
 the existing relations of .England and America in the 
 matter of the fisheries ; and it was of course gratify- 
 ing to an American to observe that everything which 
 was said in relation to his own country, was respect- 
 ful and conciliatory. 
 
 Some reference having been made in the House of 
 Lords to the various Law Reforms which are in prog- 
 ress, I was pleased to notice that they arrested the at- 
 tention of Brougham, and called from him a few re- 
 marks. It was pleasing to hear the voice of this cele- 
 brated man, whose name has been so long associated 
 with literature, with social and educational reforms, 
 and with the great political movements of .England ; 
 a justly great and celebrated name, although it was 
 painfully obvious that age, which respects no name 
 and no greatness, had subtracted something from his 
 power. 
 
 In thus referring to the distinguished members of 
 the English Parliament, I ought not to forget, that 
 among them, inferior to none and an ornament to the 
 whole body, is Mr. Macaulay, the historian, who is re- 
 turned from the city of Edinburgh. I have had no 
 opportunity of hearing him speak ; and therefore can 
 express no opinion, except what I have been enabled 
 to form from his published writings and speeches. It 
 is obvious, however, from what he has written and 
 from his speeches on various occasions, that he is not 
 only a man of great historical and political learning, 
 but, what is essential in a leading member of Parlia- 
 ment, possesses a thorough command and mastery of 
 that noble language which among the languages of 
 modern times may justly be styled the language of lib- 
 9 
 
98 
 
 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 erty. He not only knows what it is proper and wise to 
 say, but in what manner to say it, so that the most re- 
 fined scholar, seeing the thought giving birth to the ex- 
 pression, and the expression fitting the thought, can- 
 not read his speeches, even on ordinary political topics, 
 without finding something which pleases a truly lite- 
 rary taste. Nor is he deficient, when occasion calls for 
 it, in subtle logic, and in keen sarcasm, and he knows 
 also in what manner and at what times to inflict those 
 ponderous blows of eloquent and impassioned decla- 
 mation, of which we have illustrations in Edmund 
 Burke. 
 
 Another prominent member of the present Parlia- 
 ment is Richard Cobden. I had the pleasure of spend- 
 ing an evening in the company of this truly excellent 
 and distinguished man, and can thus aid my general 
 impressions by means of a personal acquaintance, al- 
 though a slight one. Mr. Cobden, without the advan- 
 tages of what is termed a liberal education, has risen 
 "to his present position of eminence, by his strength of 
 intellect, high moral purpose, and untiring persever- 
 ance and labor. It is thought by some, that he does 
 not at the present time exercise that influence to which 
 he is entitled, but the principal reason of this seems to 
 me to be one which is very creditable to him. And I 
 mean in saying this, that being a man of a reflective 
 turn of mind, he sees far and clearly into the spirit of 
 a true and christianized humanity, and being true to 
 himself, he is willing, even at the cost of personal popu- 
 larity, to act up to the light which he has. And among 
 other things implied in this general remark, he is de- 
 cidedly opposed to a state of war as being the great 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 99 
 
 hindrance to increased and perfected civilization, and 
 as the great source of the wrongs which grind the poor 
 and suffering, and of the power which sustains the op- 
 pressor. And in accordance with these views and 
 principles, he made a motion in the English Parlia- 
 ment on the 24th of June, 1851, and supported it by 
 an able speech ; a motion which is required by the 
 spirit of Christianity, but which unhappily is without 
 an example ; as follows, — That an address be present- 
 ed to her Majesty, praying that she will direct her Sec- 
 retary of State for Foreign Affairs to enter into com- 
 munication with the Government of France, and en- 
 deavor to prevent in future that rivalry of ivarlike prep- 
 aration in time of peace which has hitherto been the 
 policy of the two governments, aud to promote if possi- 
 ble, a mutual reduction of armaments. 
 
 This important motion he sustained in a speech, 
 simple in its style, but replete with argument, sound 
 sense, and enlightened philanthropy. It is true that 
 he was not able at that time to accomplish his object, 
 and the two great nations on the opposite sides of the 
 English channel not only maintain but are increasing 
 their armaments at important points. His remarks, 
 however, were heard with attention ; and every day's 
 experience shows their wisdom. And it is to be hoped, 
 availing himself of the high position in which Provi- 
 dence has placed him, that he will continue to press 
 this great subject upon the attention of the Engligh 
 government. His past history shows that he is not a 
 man, who is likely to be discouraged by the vast diffi- 
 culties arising from national prejudices, and still less 
 to be diverted from a purpose which he has honestly 
 
100 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 formed by the sneers or threats of interested individu- 
 als who cannot comprehend him. 
 
 The room or chamber, in which the Peers assemble, 
 is large and well proportioned ; ninety-seven feet in 
 length, forty-five in height and the same in width. — 
 At the south end of the chamber is the royal throne, 
 rich with the emblazonry of the royal arms around, 
 and surmounted by a superb gothic canopy. The 
 walls, the windows, the ceiling, are enriched by the 
 devices of art, and almost gorgeous in their combined 
 splendor. The room of the Commons is smaller in 
 size, and less decorated; but seemed to me to be equal- 
 ly convenient, and perhaps more so, for the purposes 
 of discussion and debate. 
 
 But it is the great voice of truth and liberty, which 
 I doubt not will from time to time resound through 
 these halls, carrying dismay to despotism, and hope 
 and encouragement to the suffering and oppressed, 
 which will give a lustre to them, in the eyes of all 
 thinking and just men, greater than that which paint- 
 ing or sculpture can bestow. 
 
 (XII.) 
 
 Windsor Castle and its vicinity — Visit to some of its apartments — The 
 Waterloo chamber and its portraits — The guard chamber — Parks 
 and the Long Walk — Windsor Forest — Runny Mede — Eton Col- 
 lege — Gray's Ode. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 16, 1852. 
 
 I have recently availed myself of a pleasant day to 
 visit Windsor Castle, the residence of royalty, and, on 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 101 
 
 many accounts, one of the most interesting places in 
 the kingdom. 
 
 On the spot where the Castle of Windsor now 
 stands, about twenty miles southwest from London, 
 a fortress of considerable size was erected by William 
 the Conqueror ; which was subsequently enlarged by 
 Henry the First. From the time of Henry, the for- 
 tress or castle, thus enlarged and improved by him, 
 may be regarded, as it was in fact, one of the royal 
 residences. And successive monarchs, Edward Third, 
 Henry Eighth, Queen Elizabeth and Queen Anne 
 contributed much, with a view to render it the more 
 suitable for this purpose, in erecting additional build- 
 ings and in adorning the grounds. George the Third 
 made it his principal residence ; as did also George the 
 Fourth, who in the course of a few years expended 
 more than a million sterling upon it. It is at the pres- 
 ent time the principal and favorite residence of Queen 
 Victoria. 
 
 I spent a day, and might easily and pleasantly have 
 spent a longer time, in visiting this palace and its 
 beautiful grounds. Entering by the gothic porch ad- 
 joining King John's Tower, I was conducted, in com- 
 pany with a number of other persons, through the 
 apartments, in the order in which they are usually 
 shown to strangers — the Queen's Audience Chamber, 
 adorned with tapestry, representing scripture subjects, 
 and also with a few portraits — the Vandyke Room, so 
 called from its containing twenty-two paintings by 
 Vandyke, chiefly portraits of distinguished persons; 
 among which the equestrian portrait of Charles First 
 is regarded as possessing special value as a work of 
 9* 
 
102 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 art — the Queen's State Drawing Room, also called 
 the Zuccarelli Room, from the circumstance of its 
 being adorned with nine paintings by Zuccarelli, an 
 Italian painter, who once enjoyed a celebrity which 
 does not appear to be awarded to him now — the State 
 Ante-Room, chiefly remarkable for some exquisite 
 specimens of carving by Gibbons, and historically, for 
 having been occupied by Charles First a short time 
 previous to his execution. 
 
 The next room to which we were introduced is cal- 
 led the Waterloo Chamber ; so named from the cir- 
 cumstance that it is hung almost exclusively with the 
 portraits of the distinguished men, who were connect- 
 ed either in war or diplomatically, with the trying se- 
 ries of events, which had their termination at Water- 
 loo. This apartment, which is equally chaste and 
 beautiful in its decorations, is quite large ; being near- 
 ly an hundred feet in length. There are portraits in 
 it, the most of them painted by Sir Thomas Law- 
 rence, of Castlereagh, Humbolt, Canning, Harden- 
 berg, Alexander of Russia, Capo d'Istrias, Nesselrode, 
 Schwartzenberg, Picton, Platoff the leader of the Cos- 
 sacks, Anglesea, CzernistchefT, Metternich, Welling- 
 ton and Blucher. I mention these names in particu- 
 lar and without hesitation, because no person can pre- 
 tend to a knowledge of modern history without hav- 
 ing some acquaintance with their political relations 
 and acts or their military achievements. 
 
 We are apt, as every one knows, to form opinions 
 from countenances, either from the outline or the ex- 
 pression, or from a combination of the two ; and it is 
 but justice to say, that the looks of these distinguished 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 103 
 
 men, as they are given in these fine portraits, do not 
 belie their personal history ; and that in general they 
 appear like men who are capable of great deeds. As 
 he is represented in the portrait suspended in the 
 Waterloo chamber, even Metternich, who has had an 
 influence in European affairs second only to that of 
 Talleyrand, has a countenance intellectual, open, frank, 
 generous ; so much so as to perplex very much my 
 previous unfavorable impressions, and to lead me to 
 suppose, that his anti-republican policy was dictated 
 more by the exigencies of his situation than by his 
 heart ; and that under other circumstances he might 
 have applied his great powers to the furtherance of 
 liberty. 
 
 I will not detain you with this part of my visit here 
 any further than to say, that the Guard chamber which 
 is also shown to visitors, seemed to be the special 
 place of curiosities. Here are whole-length figures, in 
 armor ; — a bust of Nelson with a pedestal made from 
 a mast of the Victory ; — suspended banners, an elabo- 
 rate shield made by Benvenuto Cellini, and among 
 other things two small pieces of ordnance, captured 
 by Lord Cornwallis. Perhaps it is unnecessary to add, 
 that they were taken by him at Seringapatam, and not 
 in his campaigns in America. And near the bust of 
 Nelson, in singular juxta-position, are two relics, — one 
 allied to war, the other to poetry. One is a chair made 
 from an elm tree, which grew on the field of Water- 
 loo ; — the other is a chair made from an oak beam ta- 
 ken from the old haunted church of Alloway, which 
 Burns has made so famous in his wonderful Tarn 
 O'Shanter. 
 
104 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 After visiting these and other apartments, we as- 
 cended the great Round Tower ; — a most remarkable 
 stone structure, varying but little in its size from three 
 hundred feet in circumference and the same in height. 
 It answers the double purpose, or rather such were 
 the objects to which it was formerly applied, of a for- 
 tress and a prison. The Earl of Surrey, who is favor- 
 ably known among the early poetical writers of Eng- 
 land, was at one time confined here as a prisoner ; as 
 also was John, King of France and David Bruce, King 
 of Scotland, who were defeated and taken prisoners 
 by Edward Third. The prospect from the summit of 
 this tower is extensive and beautiful in the highest 
 degree. It is said that on a clear day no less than 
 twelve counties of England can be seen from it. In 
 the distance was pointed out to me the residence, still 
 standing, of our own William Penn, and his descen- 
 dants ; and hardly any object could have brought up 
 more interesting associations to my mind ; and also 
 the church, whose churchyard with its sleeping inhabi- 
 tants gave rise to the inimitable Elegy of the poet 
 Gray. Nearer and almost directly below us, amid 
 groves and lawns, the Thames flowed by in majestic 
 beauty ; crowned with villages and country seats, and 
 by Eton College with its spires and " antique towers," 
 which Gray also, who was the poet of these regions, 
 has given to a lasting fame. 
 
 After visiting St. George's Chapel, where sleep the 
 remains of Henry VIII., and which is adorned by a 
 painting of the Lord's Supper by West, I spent some 
 hours, in the closing part of a bright and delightful 
 day, in excursions through the walks and parks in the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 105 
 
 vicinity of the palace. I have seen nothing which 
 exceeds the noble avenue, three miles in length, called 
 the Long Walk. It is perfectly straight; and has a 
 road in the centre for carriages with footpaths on each 
 side ; and is shaded by a double row of aged elms of 
 great size. This splendid walk may be said to ter- 
 minate at a place called Snow Hill, an abrupt pile of 
 woods and granite, surmounted by an equestrian 
 statue of George Third. As I paused here and look- 
 ed back upon the vast expanse around and beneath 
 me, magnificent with forests or rich with cultivation, 
 with the walls and towers of Windsor Castle in the 
 centre and the floating banner of England bright with 
 the setting sun, I felt a new sentiment of beauty and 
 grandeur opening at my heart, with gratitude to that 
 great Being who hath made all things beautiful in 
 their season, and with feelings of respect and affec- 
 tion for the land of my ancestors. 
 
 Somewhere in one of these parks, the Home Park 
 I believe, there is an old withered oak, surrounded 
 with palings, which is said to be the identical oak, to 
 which Shakspeare has alluded in a striking passage 
 in the Merry Wives of Winds or. 
 
 " There is an old tale goes, that Heme the hunter, 
 
 Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, 
 
 Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, 
 
 Walk round about an oak, with great ragged horns, 
 
 And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, 
 
 And makes milch kine yield blood, and shakes a chain, 
 
 In a most hideous and dreadful manner." 
 
 A few miles beyond Snow Hill, but within the roy- 
 al grounds and on the borders of the beautiful expanse 
 
106 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 of water, called the Virginia Water, are large masses 
 of granite, marble, and porphyry collected together, 
 and so arranged as to give the appearance of the ruins 
 of an ancient temple. These large masses, upon which 
 I came suddenly and unexpectedly, were brought from 
 Greece, and arranged so entirely in harmony with my 
 previous conceptions of ancient ruins that the illusion 
 was complete. It was difficult to believe, that they 
 were not the ruins of an edifice, which had been erect- 
 ed in early times and had gone to decay on this very 
 spot. 
 
 There is one place in this vicinity which I did not 
 visit ; but which, although there may be nothing in 
 the form of paintings or architecture to recommend 
 it, is so associated with the protection of human rights 
 and liberty, that it has a permanent and memorable 
 name. On the banks of the Thames and within four 
 miles of Windsor, is that Runny Mede, which holds 
 so conspicuous a place in the civil and political histo- 
 ry of England ; where the Barons and people of Eng- 
 land compelled King John to assent to the principles 
 of Magna Charta. And it was on an island near by 
 in the river, that the Great Charter, which stands as 
 the basis of English liberty, was actually signed by 
 that unworthy monarch. I know that England had 
 a charter and liberties before ; but it was at that time 
 and at that place and under the memorable circum- 
 stances of that occasion, that they received an enlarg- 
 ment, a definiteness and a sanction which had never 
 previously existed ; so that in all succeeding times 
 both in England and America, what was signed at 
 Runny Mede has been referred to as one of the true 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 107 
 
 voices of humanity, one of the great proclamations 
 of freedom. 
 
 There was another place, which I saw from the 
 Round Tower but did not visit, — Eton College, which 
 for scores of years has been associated in my heart 
 and memory with the beautiful poetry of Gray. Un- 
 til I came to England I did not know, or rather did 
 not distinctly appreciate, the wide and powerful influ- 
 ence which the literature of England had exerted in 
 my mental training. And the reason perhaps in part 
 was, because in America I knew it in its effects only ; 
 but here I see it in its source. I ever felt that Gray 
 was a true poet. He possesses an element of power, 
 which embodies itself from time to time in gorgeous 
 conceptions and in forms of language that dilate and 
 agitate the mind ; but his most striking characteristic 
 is his perfection of taste, formed upon the Roman 
 models, and which frequently reminds one of the ex- 
 quisite terms of expression and combinations of ex- 
 pression, which are found in the Augustan writers. — 
 And as I stood in sight of the groves where he had 
 walked, of the college where he was educated, of his 
 u silver-winding" Thames and of the distant church- 
 yard which inspired his unequalled Elegy, I felt anew, 
 how the genius of literature has the power to conse- 
 crate nature and to perpetuate existence. 
 
 As I have thus diverted your attention from the 
 objects around me to the subject of English poetry, I 
 must make my defence, and at the same time close my 
 letter, by a few lines from the Ode on Eton College. 
 
108 
 
 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 " Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, 
 
 That crown the watery glade, 
 Where grateful Science still adores 
 
 Her Henry's holy shade; 
 And ye that from the stately brow 
 Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below 
 Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey ; — 
 
 Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among 
 
 Wanders the hoary Thames along 
 His silver-winding way ! 
 
 tl Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade ! 
 
 Ah, fields beloved in vain ! 
 Where once my careless childhood strayed, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain : 
 I feel the gales that from ye blow 
 A momentary bliss bestow 
 As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
 
 My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
 
 And, redolent of joy and youth, 
 To breathe a second spring." 
 
 (XIII.) 
 
 Funeral of the Duke of Wellington — His early military career — Ee- 
 marks on war — His personal character-- Funeral procession — Stan- 
 zas composed on this occasion. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 18, 1852. 
 
 To-day I saw the Duke of Wellington carried to his 
 tomb. My position was in the Strand, fronting the 
 termination of a wide street opposite, in full view of 
 the procession and of assembled thousands of the peo- 
 ple. Amid the marching of troops, with the sound of 
 cannon, and of martial instruments, and with the at- 
 tendance of the distinguished personages of England 
 aiid of other countries, the remains of this great man, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 109 
 
 the pride and boast of England, were borne to their 
 final resting place. On all the streets, through which 
 the procession was to pass on its way to St. Paul's 
 church, vast masses were collected, influenced by the 
 mixed motive of witnessing the pageantry of the pro- 
 cession, and of manifesting their real interest in the 
 memory of the dead. 
 
 Wellington began his military career at an early 
 period of life in the East Indies ; and at Ahmednug- 
 ger, Assaye, Argaum and other places in those distant 
 regions, the scenes of sad and equivocal bloodshed 
 even in the view of his own countrymen, he establish- 
 ed a reputation for bravery and skill, which caused him 
 to be selected as a leader in those fierce European 
 wars, which originated in the ambitious purposes and 
 attempts of Napoleon. Taking in the year 1809 his 
 position in Portugal, which then seemed to be the last 
 foothold of liberty, he drew that sword, which flashed 
 in so many battle fields from Vimiera and Talavera 
 to Waterloo. His heart and his arm grew stronger 
 in these later contests ; and he showed himself a great- 
 er man than he had done in India, because he felt he 
 had more truth and justice in his cause, and because 
 his position more fully harmonized with the innate 
 elements of his character. 
 
 He fought ; but not without understanding and la- 
 menting the miseries of war. After the battle of Wa- 
 terloo he shed bitter tears, and made the remark, that 
 even such a victory was no compensation to him per- 
 sonally for the death of his friends, whatever relations 
 it might have in other respects. In regard to civil 
 wars in particular, he once made the decisive declara- 
 10 
 
110 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 tion, which shows that in his case the spirit of war 
 had not quelled or overruled the spirit of humanity, 
 that, such was his sense of the horrors of civil war, if 
 he could be the means of preventing even one month 
 of civil contest in his own country, he would sacrifice 
 his life in order to do it. 
 
 I have no sympathy with wars. Indeed I might 
 express myself more strongly. I believe them to be 
 opposed to the spirit and the letter of the Gospel.— 
 Wars have thrown back civilization, humanity, reli- 
 gion. It is a great doctrine of the Scriptures, that they 
 " who take the sword shall perish by the sword ;" and 
 it is a great truth of history, written in fire and blood, 
 that, though liberty has sometimes been won by the 
 sword, the same sword has destroyed it. And still 
 my feelings on this subject do not, I trust, deprive me 
 of the power of estimating men who think and act 
 differently, and of making the proper and just distinc- 
 tions among them. I should think unworthily of my- 
 self, and discredit the idea of all true mental guidance, 
 if I were left, for instance, to the folly of confounding 
 such a man as Washington with other military men, 
 who have fought as bravely, but without principle and 
 without humanity. I am willing, therefore, in view of 
 the vast pageant which has just passed before me, to 
 give my opinion of the man whom it was designed to 
 honor, without ceasing to regret the necessity, or rath- 
 er the supposed necessity, which organizes armies, and 
 which associates fame with blood. 
 
 There are men who have combined greatness of in- 
 tellect with restriction and narrowness of the heart ; — 
 there are men who are historically great without being 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. Ill 
 
 morally great ; — but the Duke of Wellington was a 
 srreat man in no limited sense of the term. In the 
 first place he possessed great intellectual powers. And 
 I mean in saying so, that he was quick in perception, 
 and also in comparison and combination, together 
 with that capacity of taking a large and comprehen- 
 sive view of things, which renders the other qualities 
 available on great occasions. I am aware the remark 
 is often made, that great generalship does not neces- 
 sarily imply great talents ; and I am willing to admit 
 that generals of subordinate rank, by means of the 
 fiery courage and devotedness with which they execu- 
 ted the duties assigned them, have sometimes become 
 famous with but little originative or administrative 
 power. But it seems to me very clear, that no man 
 can hold, as Wellington did, the position of chief of 
 an army, and successfully plan and carry on a series 
 of campaigns on a large scale, without possessing 
 consummate ability. And the general impression in 
 relation to eminent military commanders, the Alexan- 
 ders and Hannibals, the Caesars and Marlboroughs of 
 history, seems to be, that they were men of great in- 
 tellectual power, whatever may be thought or said of 
 the justice of their wars, or of the rectitude of their 
 morals. 
 
 But there are various kinds of greatness. And I 
 am willing to admit, that a man may be a great gen- 
 eral, who is not possessed of great virtues ; as might 
 be inferred from the history of some of those, to whom 
 reference has just been made. War itself is felt by 
 most persons, even by those who do not condemn it 
 in all cases, to partake of the nature of an immorality. 
 
112 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 Humanity practices it, without responding to it as the 
 right and benevolent adjustment of things. It is out 
 of harmony with the order of the universe ; at least 
 with that order which the universe is struggling to 
 realize ; and hence it is, that a bad man, a very bad 
 man, will fight well and in that sense will make a 
 good soldier; and many men, placed in the highest 
 military position, have skillfully conducted great cam- 
 paigns, who have had but little of the sentiment of 
 justice, and still less of benevolence. 
 
 But Wellington was not only a great captain, in the 
 sense of possessing great military capacity ; he was 
 also a just and benevolent man. I can favorably ap- 
 preciate his energy of character and his great capaci- 
 ties of thought ; but I am far more affected by what 
 I believe to have been his quick and high sense 
 of justice and his real benevolence. When he laid 
 down his sword at Waterloo, a sword which he had 
 wielded, not without perplexity and sorrow, he allow- 
 ed the sympathetic and benevolent element of his 
 character to take its true position, and to retain it 
 during the remainder of his life. And being placed, 
 either by office or by his great personal influence, at 
 the head of the civil and political administration of 
 England, and holding as it were for more than thirty 
 years both war and peace in his hand, he took in 
 every instance of rising passion and of threatning dis- 
 cord, the side of forbearance, of adjustment, and of 
 peace. Perhaps he felt that one, who had been con- 
 nected with wars so long, and had known so much 
 of their horrors, owed more than other men to the 
 principles and claims of pacification. As a republic 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 113 
 
 can, therefore, and as one sincerely attached to pacific 
 sentiments, I feel it no discredit to say, that my heart 
 was deeply affected, in common with the multitudes 
 of Englishmen around me, when I saw the lifeless 
 body of Wellington carried to its grave. 
 
 I am confident, that the great tribute paid to his 
 memory, (and it was really great, perhaps more so in 
 some of its aspects than history has ever recorded,) 
 was not more a tribute to his capacities and victories 
 in war than to his acknowledged virtues. One of his 
 marked traits of character was his simplicity ; and I 
 mean by that, his forgetfulness of self and his single- 
 ness of purpose. It was so natural and easy for him 
 to do what he considered it his duty to do, that his 
 thoughts did uot revert to himself, as if he had done 
 something worthy of notice and applause, even if he 
 had done it more thoroughly and better than other 
 men. There is nothing which so much commands 
 the admiration of men as this trait of character, when 
 it is combined with great capacity. If Wellington 
 had not been such a man as I have described him to 
 be, if he had been an immoral man, if he had been 
 a mere fighting man, a man of blood without the sen- 
 timents of juvstice and benevolence, in a word had his 
 history recorded his achievements without the noble 
 record of his character, the honors, which have been 
 paid to his memory to-day, could not have been award- 
 ed him. It marks the progress of civilization and of 
 religious sentiment, that success in war alone, with- 
 out acts and attributes that appeal to other and high- 
 er parts of our nature, can no longer give permanent 
 fame. So much as this, if I have viewed things aright, 
 10* 
 
114 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 is gained to humanity and truth. And if the prog- 
 ress of opinion continues to advance as it has done, 
 the question will be asked at a time not far distant, — 
 not who is first in war and in the conquests of nations, 
 but who is first in peace and in the establishment of 
 national fraternity. 
 
 The funeral car, which bore the body of Welling- 
 ton to its destined resting-place by the side of Nelson, 
 was preceded by large detachments of infantry, artil- 
 lery and cavalry, by carriages containing deputations 
 from public bodies — by the dignitaries of England, 
 barons, earls, viscounts and bishops, — by the minis- 
 ters of England and members of the houses of Par- 
 liament, and by distinguished men, who came as the 
 representatives of foreign countries to pay their hom- 
 age to his memory. The eyes of the multitude, at- 
 tracted for a moment by the splendor of the troops, 
 rested fixedly and with tears upon the car and the 
 coffin which it bore. The history of a long genera- 
 tion, filled with bloody or with mighty acts, seemed 
 to be resting there ; and the body, which had moved 
 among them and given them form and life, was pass- 
 ing to its final home. The funeral car, itself a mag- 
 nificent object, was drawn by twelve large black hor- 
 ses, three abreast, adorned with velvet housings, on 
 which the arms of the deceased were richly embroid- 
 ered, and, waving with each movement of then proud 
 necks their lofty black plumes, they seemed to be con- 
 scious, as they struck their hoofs slowly, and in har- 
 mony, to the earth, of the grandeur and solemnity of 
 the hour. The horse of Wellington occupied a place 
 alone in the procession ; but the rider was not there. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 115 
 
 The movement of the immense cortege, as if borne 
 down and repressed by the weight of memory and of 
 sorrow, was slow and measured. Arms were revers- 
 ed ; drums were muffled ; and the tolling of bells and 
 the sound of distant cannon, mingled with the wail- 
 ing voice of countless instruments. And all sadly 
 harmonized not only with the voice of sorrow in the 
 million of mourning hearts, but with that voice of 
 mysterious destiny which says, " Dust thou art ; to 
 dust thou shalt return." 
 
 I can give you no further particulars at present. — - 
 The stanzas^ which are added, originated on this oc- 
 casion, and may help to convey to you some of the 
 thoughts and emotions which filled my mind. 
 
 With grief and tears, unknown before, 
 
 And slow and melancholy tread, 
 And trumpet's wail and cannon's roar, 
 The vast and mourning people bore 
 
 The dust of England's dead. 
 
 And ah, what memories mark that day ! 
 
 What thoughts of battles fought and won ! 
 As thus they came, in long array, 
 At Nelson's earlier tomb to lay, 
 
 The lifeless Wellington. 
 
 They sleep. — To them the battle's cry 
 
 Has hushed its voice on land and wave ; 
 
 And thus, in silence as they lie, 
 
 They teach us that the great shall die. 
 The victor has his grave. 
 
 And Thou, to whom our thoughts arise, 
 As round their kindred tombs we bend, 
 
 Oh, grant, great Ruler of the skies, 
 
 At whose command the warrior dies/ 
 That war itself may end. 
 
116 LETTERS .ESTHETIC. 
 
 (XIV.) 
 
 Palace of Hampton Court — Built by Cardinal Wolsey, and presented 
 by him to Henry VIII. — Paintings — The gigantic porter of Kenil- 
 worth — The original cartoons of Raphael — Remarks upon these 
 paintings — Visit to Richmond Kill — Grave of Thompson. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 22, 1852. 
 
 There is an old poem, the authorship of which is 
 unknown to me, which reads in a certain place as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 " Let any wight, — if such a wight there be, — 
 To whom thy lofty towers unknown remain, 
 
 Direct his steps, fair Hampton Court, to thee, 
 And view thy splendid halls." 
 
 In accordance with the advice thus given, and de- 
 sirous of seeing objects of interest which I shall never 
 have another opportunity to see, I recently went in 
 company with others to this celebrated place ; — cele- 
 brated for what it is in itself, celebrated for what it 
 contains, and perhaps not less so for being closely as- 
 sociated with the names of Wolsey, Henry VIIL, 
 Charles II, Oliver Cromwell; and I know not how 
 many others. 
 
 The royal palace of Hampton Court, beautifully lo- 
 cated on the North bank of the Thames, about twelve 
 miles from London, was built originally by Cardinal 
 Wolsey, who possessed great power and influence in 
 the time of Henry VIII ; and whose name the poetry 
 of Shakspeare, still more than his personal achieve- 
 ments or merits, has made familiar to all. It was 
 originally of great extent and magnificence ; so much 
 so that it caused considerable dissatisfaction and even 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 117 
 
 envy in the mind of Henry VIIL, who saw himself 
 excelled in splendor by one, who held the place of a 
 subject. Wolsey, rather than encounter the effects of 
 this dissatisfaction, and making a virtue of necessity, 
 gave this magnificent palace to the king. Large and 
 splendid under the expense and labors of the Cardi- 
 nal, it was further greatly enlarged and enriched by 
 the king himself. Since that time parts of the old 
 palace have been taken down and replaced by later 
 structures. But it is still an imposing pile of build- 
 ings, well worthy the attention of visitors. 
 
 The clear, silvery Thames flows by in beauty ; the 
 walks and gardens are laid out with taste and ele- 
 gance ; there are flowers and fountains and green ter- 
 races and shady trees, all attracting and delightful in 
 their place and season ; for nature, having life in her- 
 self, changes but never dies. But when I entered the 
 palace itself, and passed through the long succession 
 of rooms, the names of which indicated that it had 
 been the residence of monarchs, I felt a sense of lone- 
 liness and desolation, as if I were treading among the 
 memorials of buried ages and of departed greatness. 
 Indeed, were it not for the numerous paintings and 
 tapestries which have been collected together here as 
 in one vast repository, it might be said, that nothing 
 remained but the walls themselves. There are no 
 banquetings now, such as are described by Cavendish. 
 No Lord Cardinal, "booted and spurred," comes sud- 
 denly in among the revelling guests. Henry and 
 Cromwell, at whose voice the mighty fabric trembled, 
 have become dust and ashes ; — and the tread of roy- 
 alty has departed, to return no more. 
 
118 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 I gazed, nevertheless, upon the paintings on the 
 walls; and, passing rapidly by many works which 
 failed to attract me, either from a want of genius and 
 skill in the authors, or from the want of a proper light 
 to see them in, I paused at others with the feelings of 
 admiration, to which they are entitled. And when I 
 say that among them are to be found the works of 
 Giulio Romano, Kneller, West, Rembrandt, Rubens, 
 Titian, Vandyke, Holbein, and other artists of great 
 merit, I feel justified in adding, that, if the living are 
 not here to inspire admiration by their personal pres- 
 ence, the feeling is at least inspired by the dead who 
 live upon canvass, — either by the character of the sub- 
 ject or by the skill of the artist. 
 
 I will mention here an incident, which was unex- 
 pected, but not without some interest. In the histori- 
 cal romance of Kenilworth, which holds if not the 
 first, at least no second place among the writings of 
 Walter Scott, the author has introduced with great 
 effect the gigantic porter of Queen Elizabeth ; and 
 with such gifts of size and proportions as to seem al- 
 most an exaggeration. But I have no doubt that he 
 sketched his picture from a prototype, which actually 
 existed. On entering the Guard chamber of Hamp- 
 ton Court, one of the objects which first attracted my 
 notice, was a full length portrait of this porter. The 
 painting is by Frederic Zuccaro ; and is dated, 1580. 
 It is from life, and is seven feet, six inches in height. 
 
 There was one object at the palace of Hampton 
 Court, which took so much of my attention and in- 
 terest, as to leave but a small share for objects which, 
 under other circumstances, would have well deserved 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 119 
 
 them. I mean the original Cartoons of Raphael. It 
 is true I had seen well executed copies of them at 
 Oxford ; but this did not take away my desire to see 
 the originals. The Cartoons are said to have been 
 executed in the year 1515 or 1516. These paintings, 
 which were designed in the first instance as merely 
 the original sketches or patterns from which the weav- 
 ers of Arras were to prepare a series of tapestries for 
 Leo X., are upon a thick paper, sometimes called a 
 card or paste-board paper ; and hence the name of 
 Cartoons, which has been given them. Before the 
 tapestries were completed, Leo was assassinated ; and 
 the weavers being unpaid, retained in their possession 
 the cartoon patterns ; which actually remained neg- 
 lected and almost forgotten, in a cellar in Arras one 
 hundred years. Three of them were by some means 
 lost. The others were finally obtained by Rubens for 
 Charles I, whose object was like that of Leo, to have 
 tapestries woven from them ; and thus after various 
 vicissitudes, in which they were once saved by Oliver 
 Cromwell, they have at last found a resting-place in 
 Hampton Court. 
 
 The Cartoons were originally ten in number. The 
 subjects of those which are lost, were the stoning of 
 St. Stephen, the conversion of St. Paul, and St. Paul 
 in his dungeon at Phillippi. The seven which remain, 
 are all of them to be seen here. The first, as they are 
 arranged in the gallery which is called the Cartoon 
 gallery, is the death of Ananias, Acts v. In size this 
 painting is a little more than seventeen feet by eleven. 
 In the midst of nine apostles, standing upon a raised 
 platform, is seen St. Peter with his hand uplifted as if 
 
120 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 in the act of speaking. On the left, in the background, 
 is Sapphira, the wife of Ananias, who is ignorant of 
 what is taking place, paying some money with one 
 hand, but withholding money in the other ; — and St. 
 John and another apostle occupy a position to the 
 right of Peter, and are in the act of distributing alms. 
 The position of Peter is a prominent one, because it 
 is through him that the mighty power of God, which 
 is manifested in opposition to cupidity and deception, 
 may be said to be revealed. Nevertheless the figure 
 which chiefly arrests the attention of the beholder, is 
 the prostrate and lifeless Ananias. Such a picture of 
 life struck into death, of vitality retaining its form but 
 extinct in its essence, is no where else to be found. — 
 Every man's consciousness, who beholds this terrible 
 scene, corresponds to the conception of the great paint- 
 er ; and he says instinctively, and without any hesi- 
 tation, — so distinct is the mingled expression of as- 
 tonishment and hopeless agony, and such the sudden 
 and obvious helplessness of every prostrate limb, — 
 that it was thus he fell and died ; and a man, struck 
 in a moment, and by a secret and divine power, could 
 not have fallen and died in any other way. 
 
 The next painting, as they are arranged in the 
 Hampton Court gallery, is that of Elymas the sorcer- 
 er, struck with blindness. In this painting, there are 
 fourteen figures. The Pro-consul Sergius, who occu- 
 pies a central position, is seen seated on a throne, with 
 two lictors on his left hand, — his countenance filled 
 with a mixed curiosity and astonishment at the effect 
 which is produced by the words of the apostle. On 
 his right hand is St. Paul, his countenance and action 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 121 
 
 full of that conscious rectitude and dignity, which 
 may properly characterize the prophet and messenger 
 of God. But in this painting, as in that of Ananias 
 and Sapphira, the figure, which exercised and called 
 into action in the highest degree the imaginative pow- 
 er of the painter, and which is central to the feelings 
 of the spectator, is that of the wretched Elymas, with 
 his hands extended, and groping about in his blind- 
 ness and horror. So far as the conception of this sad 
 and terrible figure is concerned, there can be no doubt 
 that it should be ranked among; the truest and great- 
 est results of creative imagination. 
 
 There is a story told of Garrick in relation to this 
 painting. Being in company with Benjamin West 
 and some other persons, the conversation turned upon 
 Elymas, as he is represented crouching and holding 
 out his hands. Garrick, not having noticed, or not 
 recollecting at the moment any thing of the kind in 
 real life, remarked, that the attitude of Elymas seem- 
 ed to him unnatural. West thought differently ; and 
 desirous of vindicating a great painter, requested Gar- 
 rick to shut his eyes and walk across the room. Gar- 
 rick who had no objection to experiments of that kind, 
 closed his eyes ; but he had no sooner begun to walk 
 about, than he instinctively put out his hands, and as- 
 sumed that crouching, cautious, and groping position, 
 which he had before criticised as unnatural. 
 
 The third of the Cartoons as they are here arrang- 
 ed, is the healing of the lame man at the gate of the 
 Temple called the " Beautiful;" which exhibits a high 
 degree of inventive power, though it did not interest 
 me so much as the others. The next is the Miracu- 
 11 
 
122 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 lous Draught of Fishes, of which we have an account 
 in the fifth of Luke. The size of this painting is thir- 
 teen and a half feet in length by ten and a half in 
 height. In looking at it the attention is at once occu- 
 pied with the two fishermen's boats, and the waters 
 of the lake of Gallilee, under a clear bright sky, rip- 
 pling gently around them. In one of these boats, in 
 a central position, is the Savior ; finely conceived and 
 represented, with a countenance full of benevolence 
 and dignity. He is seated ; and in the act of speak- 
 ing to Peter, who is on his knees before him ; and is 
 represented with a countenance expressive of humili- 
 ty and awe. Behind the Saviour in the same boat is 
 a young man. On his left is the other boat, in which 
 is one man steering it, and two other men, finely 
 drawn, in the act of taking up the net laden with fish- 
 es. The net is heavy, and the drawing is such as to 
 indicate the muscular effort of the men in taking it up. 
 The fishes are very natural. But one of the most 
 striking features in this painting is the three tall black 
 cranes, standing in the edge of the water, with their 
 short wi^ngs, long necks, and open bills. They have 
 a singularly strange and wild appearance ; but per- 
 fectly natural and giving to the whole scene an aspect 
 of reality which it might not otherwise have had. I 
 think there is no one of Raphael's paintings, which 
 has left upon my mind a deeper impression than this. 
 The subject of the fifth Cartoon is Paul and Bar- 
 nabas at Lystra, as recorded in the fourth of Acts. — 
 The part of this painting, in which Raphael puts forth 
 the strength of that conceptive power which enabled 
 him to place nature upon canvass, and to enchant the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 123 
 
 belief of the spectator into the midst of a reality ac- 
 tually passing before him, is the uplifted arm and axe 
 of the sacrificer, and the upturned head of the help- 
 less ox, held in its position to receive the terrible blow. 
 The sad and abhorrent feeling of the spectator is al- 
 most equal to that of St. Paul, although it may be in 
 part from a different cause. 
 
 The subject of the next painting is Paul preaching 
 at Athens. There is in this painting, as there is in 
 the others, a centre of interest to the spectator ; as 
 there was a central thought or idea in the mind of the 
 painter. 
 
 All these paintings illustrate what seems to me to 
 be one of the happiest expressions of the theory of 
 beauty, namely, unity in variety. It is true, that a 
 complete analysis of the beautiful cannot be suppos- 
 ed to be involved in these few expressions ; but they 
 enunciate a great truth ; and probably furnish the best 
 basis of speculation on this difficult subject. The 
 idea of unity, considered in relation to any work of 
 art, or in relation to any other work, is that of a cen- 
 tral thought; — central, when the term is used in the 
 highest sense, both in its motive and its results ; — em- 
 bracing both the beginning and the end, and thus hav- 
 ing a oneness in itself. The true name of such a com- 
 prehensive, yet centralized conception is unity. And 
 when this is accompanied by variety, — that is to say, 
 by subordinate objects or acts, different from each 
 other and from the main object or act in form or place 
 or in other numerously varied ways, and yet harmoni- 
 zing with such unity, namely, the unity of the main 
 purpose and the main result, we have then the leading 
 
124 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 and indispensable elements of the sublime and beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 Unity is necessary to the mind's repose, — to its true 
 satisfaction with itself and its works. Variety is 
 necessary to meet the wants of its active nature. The 
 instincts of a great mind feel this and act accordingly. 
 To act without a central view and to fail to harmo- 
 nize variety with centralization, would be to act in dis- 
 cordance with its own nature and to nullify itself. — 
 No great work of art, no painting, no sculpture, no 
 great work of science, no great oration in the senate, 
 no great forensic argument, no related and consecu- 
 tive series of moral acts, ever did or ever can fulfil the 
 true conditions of the sublime and beautiful, (without 
 which such work or such series of acts cannot be call- 
 ed great in the highest sense of that term,) unless it 
 is found to conform to this view. 
 
 Such are the Cartoons. Such are the works of 
 Raphael. 
 
 The leading or central object in the cartoon of Paul 
 preaching at Athens is St. Paul himself, — announcing 
 for the first time in Athens the great truths of religion, 
 standing elevated above the multitude around him, 
 with arms extended, in the attitude of addressing 
 them, — and with his countenance and whole person 
 inspired by the greatness and solemnity of the occa- 
 sion. Behind him and around him are wise men and 
 the pretenders to wisdom, the sophists and philoso- 
 phers, the Platonist, the Cynic, the Epicurean ; — some 
 disputing among themselves, and others listening with 
 expressions of doubt and of inward inquiry and re- 
 flection to the new and strange doctrine, which the 
 great orator of Christianity is propounding to them. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 125 
 
 The auditors, taught in jhe schools of Athens, are 
 men of thought and are finely drawn. Among them 
 is one who appears to be wholly occupied in deep re- 
 flection. His eyes are closed; and the drapery is 
 drawn closely around him. It is of this figure that 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds made the remark that he ap- 
 peared to think from head to foot. 
 
 The subject of the seventh of these paintings is the 
 charge to St. Peter, — " feed my sheep." The most 
 striking figure in this cartoon is that of Christ; but 
 though noble in its conception and execution, there is 
 less which corresponds to our ideas of the Saviour, less 
 of divinity in it, than is found in the countenance of 
 the Saviour, as he is represented in the painting of the 
 miraculous draught of fishes. 
 
 I am free to confess that paintings, even those 
 which come from the hands of great masters, are in 
 many respects so far short of nature, or are so far 
 short of what a creative imagination might be sup- 
 posed to originate in harmony with nature, that in 
 general they do not fully satisfy me. But there are 
 exceptions. I have no drawbacks of this kind in 
 viewing the paintings of Raphael. They produce 
 upon the mind the same effect which we feel in read- 
 ing the sub lira est poems of Milton and Shakspeare ; 
 dilating and occupying it to its utmost capacity ; — so 
 that we seem to feel ourselves in the presence of some 
 superior and mighty intelligence, who makes to us a 
 new revelation, and thus extends the boundaries of 
 our own existence. 
 
 I returned from Hampton Court by the way of 
 Richmond ; — a pleasant town, about four miles from 
 11* 
 
126 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 Hampton. The town is partly built on the side of a 
 ridge, the summit of which overlooks the valley of 
 the Thames for a long distance. This is the " Rich- 
 mond Hill," which Thompson has celebrated in his 
 delightful poem of the Seasons ; and which, in allu- 
 sion to the beautiful scenery of Italy, travellers have 
 denominated the " Tivoli of England." It is a place 
 of great resort ; and certainly it presents a view, which 
 in extent and beauty can scarcely be surpassed. The 
 old Saxon name of Richmond was Skene, which sig- 
 nifies brightness or splendor, in allusion probably to 
 the great beauty of the place ; and this is the name 
 which Thompson employs in the beginning of the 
 passage td which I have referred. 
 " Say, shall we wind 
 
 Along the stream ? or walk the sounding mead ? 
 Or court the forest glade ? or wander wild 
 Among the waving harvest ? or ascend, 
 While radiant summer opens all its pride, 
 Thy hill, delightful She?ie ?" 
 
 The remains of Thompson are buried at Richmond. 
 I sought his grave. With a melancholy satisfaction 
 I stood beside the ashes of one, whose writings in 
 distant America had been the delight of my father's 
 fireside, and had left the impress of their beauty on 
 our young hearts. I called to mind that touching stan- 
 za of Collins, which I had read and repeated many 
 times, without supposing I should ever realize its sol- 
 emn beauty on the very spot to which he refers. 
 
 " In yonder grave a Druid lies ; 
 
 Where slowly winds the stealing wave j 
 The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, 
 
 To deck its poet's sylvan grave." 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 127 
 
 And I will venture to add another exquisite stanza 
 from the same ode, in which one great poet has paid 
 his homage to another. 
 
 " Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore, 
 
 When Thames in summer wreaths is dressed, 
 
 And oft suspend the dashing oar, 
 To bid his gentle spirit rest." 
 
 (XV.) 
 
 Visit to Bunhill Fields and Westminster Abbey — Character of the men 
 buried in the Fields — Dr. Thomas Goodwin — Dr. John Owen — 
 Watts and Banyan — Westminster Abbey — Its tombs and monu- 
 ments — The tablet of Milton — Reflections — Poetry. 
 
 LONDON, ENGLAND, NOV. 1852. 
 
 There is a place in London called Bunhill Fields. 
 It is the burying place of the Dissenters. I went one 
 day to this place in company with the excellent friend, 
 who had accompanied me to Windsor and to Hamp- 
 ton Court, Rev. Mr. Thompson of New York, whom I 
 had known in America ; but had unexpectedly met in 
 London. Much of the interest, which I experienced 
 at this time, and at other times and places, is due to 
 him. 
 
 Bunhill Fields is a large open space some five or 
 six acres in extent, and surrounded with a brick wall. 
 In this old burying-ground are interred a large num- 
 ber of the leading Congregationalists, Baptists, Pres- 
 byterians, and other Dissenters of "England. It is not 
 a place which one would be likely to visit on account 
 of any remarkable displays of monumental art. It 
 
128 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 has its attractions, however, for men of puritanic be- 
 liefs and associations ; — and many Americans go to 
 Bunhill Fields. 
 
 We went from tomb to tomb. The inscriptions 
 which they bear indicate the general character of the 
 men. They were men of strong religious faith ; — be- 
 lievers in the Bible and in Jesus Christ ; who under- 
 stood and felt the nothingness of man, and therefore 
 sought help from God ; and though differing from 
 each other in some speculative opinions, yet all agree- 
 ing in this, that religion, while it manifests itself in 
 outward forms, is essentially an inward life, which is 
 born of God's Holy Spirit. It was from the life, 
 which once shone in this now mouldering dust, that 
 much of that American and Puritan spirit sprang up, 
 which crossed oceans, defied stormy winters, levelled 
 forests, planted school-houses and churches, and laid 
 the strong foundations of religious and republican 
 liberty. It may well be supposed, therefore, that the 
 place was not wanting in great interest for me ; — how- 
 ever it might be deficient in the attractions of art. 
 
 There was something in the names which I read 
 upon the stones that reminded me of home. Here 
 are buried the Aliens, Andersons, Bradfords, Browns, 
 Abbots, Clarks, Hay wards, Lawrences, Parkers, Palm- 
 ers, Goodwins, Robinsons, and others ; whose names, 
 borne by descendants or relatives, are so well known 
 and so often met with in the northern parts of 
 America. 
 
 Many eminent men of the Dissenters are buried 
 here. This is the last earthly resting-place of Dr. 
 Thomas Goodwin ; — a learned preacher and writer of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 129 
 
 the Dissenters in the time of Cromwell. He was edu- 
 cated at the University of Cambridge ; and such was 
 the estimation in which he was held for his learning 
 and other qualities, that he was selected by the Par- 
 liament of England, in the time of the English Com- 
 monwealth, to be president of Magdalen College in 
 Oxford. Here also are deposited the remains of Dr. 
 John Owen, another distinguished man of the same 
 class of religionists and living nearly at the same pe- 
 riod. He was educated at Oxford ; a man of great 
 learning, of eminent capacity, and who has always 
 been regarded as one of the most distinguished of the 
 illustrators and defenders of the Independent or Con- 
 gregational views. This class of men are entitled to 
 great credit for the position they took and for their 
 labors and trials in support of the great principles of 
 religious toleration and freedom. Here is the tomb 
 of Dr. Isaac Watts ; — a name that is much respected 
 among all denominations of christians. He was for 
 fifty years the minister of a Dissenting congregation 
 in London. Bunyan, the justly celebrated author of 
 Pilgrim's Progress, lies here. 
 
 In recalling this visit to Bunhill Fields, I am remin- 
 ded of Westminster Abbey. I will briefly speak, 
 therefore, as I may have no better opportunity, of 
 Westminister Abbey now. 
 
 While in London, I went repeatedly to this memo- 
 rable pile of buildings. It is near the banks of the 
 Thames ; — at a little distance from the Parliament 
 House of England. It arises in great majesty and 
 beauty, — adorned with pinnacles and towers ; and 
 with the power to arrest and control the attention of 
 
130 
 
 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the beholder, notwithstanding the defacements it has 
 suffered from the lapse of successive centuries. 
 
 I went through its chapels, cloisters, arches ; — I trod 
 upon the places where the ashes of the dead repose, 
 and beheld the sculpture of their tombs and monu- 
 ments ; — and here, too, as well as in the burying 
 ground of the Puritans, catching something of the 
 inspiration of the place and its histories, I left it with 
 the impression, that there are but few spots in the 
 world which can originate sentiments at once so va- 
 ried and profound. 
 
 Here are monuments and tombs, which contain the 
 dust and perpetuate the memory of kings and queens ; 
 — of the old Saxon king Sebert and of his queen 
 Athelgoda, who died more than a thousand years ago ; 
 — of Edward First and queen Eleanor his wife, of 
 Edward the confessor, of Edward Third and his 
 queen Philippa, of Henry Third, and of Richard Sec- 
 ond and his queen. 
 
 Celebrated statesmen have been buried here ; or are 
 commemorated by monuments. Here is the dust of 
 Hudson and Cecil ; — names which are associated with 
 the reign of Elizabeth. All that was mortal of Wil- 
 liam Pitt, of Canning, Grattan, and Wilberforce, lies 
 within these walls. Here are monuments, which com- 
 memorate the learning or statesmanship of Fox, Chat- 
 ham, and Mansfield. 
 
 Nor does this great repository of the dead withhold 
 the homage which is due to scientific genius and to 
 literary attainment. Monumental tablets commemo- 
 rate the genius and labor of Watt, the distinguished 
 improver of the steam engine ; of Telford, the arehi- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 131 
 
 tect of the Menai bridge, and of Newton, whose name 
 needs no specification. 
 
 Beneath this gorgeous roof is the dust of Samuel 
 Johnson. The earthly remains of Denham, Cumber- 
 land, and Sheridan are here. Monuments and tab- 
 lets are erected in commemoration of Goldsmith, 
 Thompson, Gray, Mason, and Shakspeare. In that 
 portion of this great architectural sepulchre, which 
 bears the name of the chapel of Henry Seventh, sleep 
 the ashes of Addison. These great literary and mor- 
 al teachers, — these guides and suggestors, to some ex- 
 tent, of my own early thought, — seemed to be restor- 
 ed to life and to be standing near me ; — as if I had 
 seen the forms or heard the mysterious voices of 
 another world. 
 
 I stopped at the tablet of Milton. It was not the 
 result of the attraction arising from the memory of 
 his poetical merit alone. A light often shines upon 
 memory from the region of principles and beliefs. He 
 stood before me not only as a poet, but as a teacher 
 and leader in the justly memorable period of the Eng- 
 lish Commonwealth. Standing as I did in this great 
 monumental abode of kings and nobles, and impress- 
 ed with all that respect for their history which the 
 place cannot fail to suggest, I felt, nevertheless, that 
 it would not be necessary for me to make any apology 
 for Milton, because he was a republican, and because 
 he became blind in his laborious defence of republican 
 principles. Nor shall I stop to take any exception to 
 what has been said of him and against him by the 
 able men who differed from him in opinion. The 
 world is made wiser by conflicts of thought. All 
 
132 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 words, all acts, all things have their place and purpose 
 in the arrangements and decrees of Providence ; — the 
 true evolve themselves from the false ; — and all are 
 destined to stand or fall in accordance with the 
 changeless tests of immortality. 
 
 Some things belong to the past; — some to the pres- 
 ent; — some to the future. The acts and words of 
 Milton are prophetic ; — the signs and intimations and 
 precursors of the things which are to be hereafter ; — 
 gathering strength as they approach the period of their 
 fulfilment; thundering and flashing along the great 
 abyss of ages ; — carrying terror to the heart of despo- 
 tism; — but full of hope to the men of the new order 
 of things, to the generations of the humanitarian dy- 
 nasty. 
 
 As I beheld these tombs and monuments, adorned 
 by art and venerable by age, I stood overwhelmed and 
 confounded. In the multitude of thoughts I was re- 
 minded of the difference between the thoughts and 
 purposes of man and those of God. Man rears monu- 
 ments to perpetuate man's fame ; but God perpetu- 
 ates man himself. The monument of man, wrought 
 in stone and marble, is the continuance, the perpetui- 
 ty of a name. The monument of God is the con- 
 tinued life of the soul itself, with the development 
 and increase of all its virtues ; — truth added to truth, 
 purity added to purity, goodness added to goodness; — 
 the immortality of a spiritual existence crowned and 
 blooming with the buds and flowers of holiness. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 133 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING WESTMINSTER ABBEY, NOV, 1852. 
 
 Pierc'd in its citadel of life, 
 
 The body, beautiful at first, 
 But conquerd in the final strife, 
 
 Goes down and crumbles into dust j — 
 And o'er that dust with many tears 
 Its monument affection rears. 
 
 That monument itself, where art 
 
 Hath wrought with all its power and pride, 
 
 Grows sick with time, and loses heart, 
 And seeks the dust it sought to hide j — 
 
 And that, which gave the dust to fame, 
 
 Is scatter'd, and bequeaths no name. 
 
 Though ruin thus smites where it can, 
 
 Its dart hath not the power to fly 
 Within the centre of the man, 
 
 And smite his immortality ; — - 
 The victor in the outward strife, 
 It falls before the inner life. 
 
 The soul, triumphant in the war, 
 
 Which smites both man and monument, 
 
 Smiling ascends, — to be the star, 
 
 Which looks down from the firmament;— 
 
 Its own inscription there to write 
 
 In letters of eternal li^ht. 
 
 (XVI.) 
 
 Visit to the Pantheon— Form an acquaintance with the old soldier 
 Paulin — Visit to the seminary of St. Sulpitius — The Champ de 
 Mars and the events connected with it — The Hotel of the Inva- 
 lids — The tomb of Napoleon — Reflections in the Elysian Fields. 
 
 CITY OF PARIS, FRANCE, DEC. 2, 1852. 
 
 I made a short excursion from London to Paris in 
 October, and have again visited it. I shall combine 
 the impressions received then with those made since, 
 12 
 
134 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 and give them in one view. Paris, the great centre of 
 wealth and population, is the London of France ; but 
 it differs in this circumstance, that it is not London 
 enveloped in smoke. On the contrary it is something 
 which can be easily seen ; and of which some esti- 
 mate can be formed at a single glance. 
 
 It was a clear, bright day in October, when I ascend- 
 ed the lofty dome of the Pantheon, or rather of what 
 was once the Pantheon, but now, by a very proper 
 restoration of its ancient name, the church of St. Ge- 
 nevieve. The ascent is more than two hundred feet. 
 There were others who went up with me ; but I did 
 not know them ; and I stood and meditated alone. — 
 It was a new position ; new to the eye and new to the 
 heart. 
 
 As I cast my eye around and below me, to the ob- 
 jects near at hand and those in the distance, — on the 
 island of the early Parish' which they beautifully call- 
 ed " the dwelling of the waters," on the winding 
 Seine, the Seine more beautiful though less magnifi- 
 cent and mercantile than the Thames, — on the twin 
 towers of Notre Dame, which have lifted their lofty 
 heads for centuries, — on the colossal pile of the Hotel 
 of the Invalids where sleep the ashes of Napoleon, — 
 on the Louvre, the Luxembourg, and the Tuilleries, 
 those ancient residences of kings, — on the " Champ 
 de Mars," the place of military assemblages and of 
 popular enthusiasm, — beholding everywhere, as far as 
 the eye could reach, streets, squares, places of busi- 
 ness, public gardens, ancient walls, hospitals, prisons, 
 churches, schools of learning, monumental pillars, tri- 
 umphal arches, in all varieties of architecture, in all 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 135 
 
 degrees of newness and decay, bounded in one direc- 
 tion by the imposing summit of Montmartre, and in 
 another by that wonderful city of the dead, the ceme- 
 tery of Pere Le Chaise, — I felt, with these vast and 
 multiplied objects before me, that I was looking down, 
 not only upon one of the great combined works of 
 art and nature, not only upon a mighty panorama of 
 living and present existence, but upon a vast map of 
 the past, inscribed and legible everywhere, with a 
 thousand years of human history. 
 
 I came down thoughtfully. Such a scene address- 
 es itself to the eyes of the inward mind, still more 
 strongly than to the sight of the outward senses. I 
 crossed the bridge De la Concorde ; and passing near 
 the great Egyptian obelisk, went to the Hotel de la 
 Terrasse, in the street Eivoli. Meurice's Hotel, which 
 is a great resort of American travellers, was full. 
 
 Day after day I walked abroad. I had no letters 
 of introduction, not being willing to occasion any un- 
 necessary trouble to any one ; — and I knew not an 
 individual in Paris, — not one in all the wide sea of 
 existence that was floating around me. But there was 
 no want of instruction ;— no want of interest. The 
 history of Paris was engraven on my memory ; and 
 at every step I found the records and evidences of its 
 correctness. And besides, he who has the living eyes 
 of the heart, even if he is without personal acquain- 
 tances and cannot even speak the language of the peo- 
 ple, will still be able to recognize the features of hu- 
 manity, and to find a brother in a strange land. 
 
 One day I was walking near the bridge of Auster- 
 litz, This bridge is a beautiful piece of architecture ; 
 
136 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 but it is a memorial of bloodshed. Wishing to make 
 some inquiries, I addressed in broken French an old 
 man who happened to be near. He perceived that I 
 was a stranger and politely answered me in English, 
 which gave me pleasure. I took the liberty to ask 
 him who he was. He said his name was Paulin ; 
 that he lived in a narrow street not far from the Hotel 
 de Ville, and had been a soldier in the wars of the 
 Emperor. He was poor ; his wife worked out daily 
 for her bread ; and as for himself he did what he could ; 
 and having learnt some English during the Empe- 
 ror's wars, he was happy in being able sometimes to 
 earn a little, no matter how small a sum, by acting 
 as a servant or guide to gentlemen from England or 
 America. He showed me a paper, speaking very high- 
 ly of him, and signed by his commander when he left 
 the army. The old man's looks, aided by his gray 
 hairs and tottering step, plead earnestly in his favor; 
 and we were not long in making a bargain. And I 
 could not help thinking it was a singular coincidence, 
 that a " peace man," from America, (as those are call- 
 ed there, whose convictions lead them to distrust and 
 discredit the right and expediency of war,) should be 
 walking through the streets of Paris arm in arm, with 
 an old soldier of Napoleon. 
 
 The old man asked me where I wished to go. I 
 told him I wished to find the church of St. Sulpitius 
 and the seminary connected with it. He looked doubt- 
 fully ; and said it was a place somewhat out of his 
 knowledge ; and wished to know if there was anything 
 there which particularly attracted my attention. I re- 
 plied I believed it was an interesting spot on some 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 137 
 
 other accounts ; but that I was particularly desirous 
 of seeing it, because St. Sulpitius was associated with 
 the early life and education of the good Fenelon. — 
 The old soldier's recollections and mine were a little 
 out of harmony. He knew the Emperor ; — the names 
 and persons of Ney, Soult and Macdonald, were fa- 
 miliar to him ; but like too many of his countrymen, 
 he either had not known or had forgotten Fenelon. 
 
 After a long walk, however, which was diversified 
 with some interesting conversations, we were able to 
 reach the place. I told my companion that I felt at 
 home here ;. and that for half an hour or more I could 
 excuse him from the trouble of attendance, and that 
 he might employ himself in any manner he thought 
 proper. I went into the church, and found people as- 
 sembled there in the act of religious worship. I sat 
 down ; and allowed my feelings in harmony with the 
 place and its associations, to take the channel of reli- 
 gious recollection and sentiment. The seminary of 
 St. Sulpitius, which seemed to have been rebuilt at a 
 recent period, is near the church. At a little distance, 
 in a circular niche of a square column ascending 
 from the fountain of St. Sulpitius, there is an impos- 
 ing statue of Fenelon. It was enough for me to know, 
 in order to induce feelings of great interest, that it 
 was here, in this interesting locality and among these 
 walls dedicated to religion and science, that Fenelon 
 had dwelt ; that here the powers of his mind were 
 unfolded and strengthened ; and that it was a place 
 which he ever held dear in his grateful recollections ; 
 Fenelon, admired for his learning and eloquence, but 
 who is still more dear to men and to nations for the 
 12* 
 
138 LETTERS— ESTHETIC, 
 
 inspirations of his expansive and benevolent love.— 
 Before leaving the spot I stood for some moments in 
 contemplation of the noble statue which is erected to 
 his memory, and felt my heart strengthened in those 
 principles of union with God and man, and of uni- 
 versal philanthrophy which characterize his writings. 
 Then giving a signal to the old soldier, to whom my 
 feelings seemed an entire mystery, and once more 
 putting myself under his direction, I asked him to 
 guide me to any objects of special interest in that part 
 of the city. His countenance kindled up, and he pro- 
 posed, obviously with a feeling of conscious pleasure, 
 a visit to the Champ de Mars and the tomb of Na- 
 poleon. 
 
 The Champ de Mars, otherwise called the " Champ 
 de Mai," is a large oblong space on the south side of 
 the Seine, about one hundred rods in length by half 
 that distance in width, surrounded by a ditch faced 
 with stone. It is entered through gates at five differ- 
 ent places, and is adorned by four rows of trees on 
 each side, which give it a shady and pleasant appear- 
 ance. The sloping embankments still remain, which 
 were erected by the population of Paris on the occa- 
 sion of the grand assembly which was held here, un- 
 der the auspices of La Fayette, on the fourteenth of 
 July, 1790. On this occasion Louis XVI., in the pres- 
 ence, it is said, of more than a million of people, took 
 an oath to observe the Constitution, which had been 
 recently adopted. It was here also that Napoleon, a 
 short time previous to the battle of Waterloo, held an 
 immense assembly, with a view to restore the confi- 
 dence of France, and to gain strength for the new 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 139 
 
 wars which were before him. The military school es- 
 tablished by Louis XV., fronts the Champ de Mars 
 at the southern extremity ; and with its dome, pro- 
 jecting portico, and sculptured pediment, constitutes 
 a striking feature in the scene which is here presented 
 to view. 
 
 Following the guidance of my old soldier, who, with 
 a sort of professional instinct and with obvious high 
 spirits, had put me upon the track of military associ- 
 ations, I next went to the Hotel of the Invalids, a vast 
 establishment, founded by Louis XIV., but greatly 
 enlarged from time to time, and at the present time 
 covering with its numerous courts, sixteen acres of 
 ground. I do not know that the christian and the 
 philanthropist, who regard wars as among the great- 
 est of wrongs and evils, ought to look upon such an 
 institution as this with disapprobation ; the principal 
 object of which, although it is true that war furnishes 
 the occasion, is, to relieve and not to increase human 
 suffering. It ought to be no subject of regret, that 
 war has its humanities. As we went on, soldiers in 
 military armor glittered around us. We passed a num- 
 ber of pieces of heavy artillery, as we approached the 
 gate of entrance ; and everywhere at the gate, and in 
 the court and galleries, some seated on chairs and 
 some walking, some with one arm remaining, and oth- 
 ers with one leg, with diversities of uniform but all 
 apparently in good spirits and chattering excessively, 
 were the old associates of my guide, the broken but 
 indomitable remnants of the wars of the Emperor. — 
 Too old to fight and too much mutilated to labor, they 
 felt themselves happy in not being obliged to beg. 
 
140 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 The Hotel of the Invalids, constructed with a view 
 to the accommodation of a large number of soldiers, 
 displays a front of six hundred and twelve feet ; there 
 are four refectories or dining rooms for the occupants, 
 each an hundred and fifty feet in length, and eight 
 spacious dormitories, besides smaller ones, containing 
 fifty beds each. The dome of the Invalids, which has 
 a sort of historical celebrity, is spacious and lofty, 
 and is seen at a great distance. Among the other 
 accommodations pertaining to this remarkable estab- 
 lishment, it has a library of 1500 volumes ; consisting 
 chiefly of works of general literature, jurisprudence 
 and military strategy, and it is there, as might natu- 
 rally be expected, that we find deposited many of the 
 trophies which the French have taken from their ene- 
 mies. In the time of Napoleon there were three thou- 
 sand flags collected here, the memorials of war and 
 of conquest, all of which were burnt by the French 
 themselves on the evening previous to the entrance of 
 the allied armies into Paris, March 31, 1814 ; — so cer- 
 tain it is that war brings with it its own retribution. 
 
 In this building are the remains of Napoleon ; the 
 dust and ashes of the man, who was for many years 
 the idol of France and the terror of Europe. It is not 
 surprising, that visitors should constantly flock to see 
 the splendid monument of a man of such wonderful 
 power and of such strange vicissitudes ; — at the age 
 of twenty-eight the conqueror of Italy ; at thirty the 
 first Consul of France, and at thirty-five the Emperor 
 of France ; but in his purpose of conquering Europe 
 driven back by the flames of Moscow, defeated at 
 Waterloo, and finding death on the rock of St. Helena. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 141 
 
 The hoof of his war horse trod in the blood of mil- 
 lions. History, estimating men by each other, will 
 pronounce him a great warrior, without being unani- 
 mous as to his practical wisdom, his patriotism, or his 
 morals. His glory was military which fades in the 
 distance, while the glory of virtue grows brighter and 
 brighter. And the thought occurred to me as I stood 
 beside his tomb that future and more peaceful gene- 
 rations might recall and cherish the name of Fenelon 
 with greater interest than that of Napoleon. 
 
 As I returned from this place the sun was setting 
 behind the distant hills. I passed through the majes- 
 tic grove of the Elysian Fields. The autumnal leaves, 
 gleaming in the departing radiance of day, fell around 
 me. My heart went back to America. The sound of 
 her rivers was in my ears. Her vast forests spread 
 out before me. I remembered the vastness, the wild- 
 ness, the repose of nature. And I said to myself 
 these works which I have seen in foreign lands, the 
 efforts and the memorials of genius, are still the works 
 of man. Imperfection marks their origin ; decay com- 
 pletes their progress. Beauty and deformity ; — life 
 and death are mingled together. Man is here, but 
 where is the Maker of man ? I sigh for my native 
 land. I wish to hear again the prayers and the hymns 
 of her cottagers, inspired by the blessings around 
 them. Her rivers are her lines of beauty ; her hills 
 are her monuments ; the mighty firmament is her ca- 
 thedral ; and God heard in the sighing of the winds, 
 seen in the richness of the forests, and eternal in the 
 reproduction of her wild and varied magnificence, 
 God is everywhere. 
 
142 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 (XVII.) 
 
 Garden of the Tuilleries — Of statuary and paintings as compared with 
 living existences — Historical notices of the Tuilleries — Triumphal 
 arch and bronze horses — Hotel de Ville and events connected 
 with it— Margaret Porette and the Quietists— Visit to the home of 
 Paulin. 
 
 CITY OF PARIS, FRANCE, DEC. 3, 1852. 
 
 Under the influence of that wandering propensity, 
 of which I gave you some of the results in my last 
 letter, I went out early the next forenoon. You will 
 recollect that it was in October ; and it was again a 
 beautiful day. I found Paulin waiting for me, lean- 
 ing patiently against a post. The Hotel de la Ter- 
 rasse, at which I was stopping, is opposite the garden 
 of the Tuilleries. And after a little deliberation, in 
 which it gave me pleasure to pay due deference to the 
 suggestions of the old soldier, we concluded to take a 
 stroll through its beautiful grounds. 
 
 The garden of the Tuilleries was laid out by the 
 celebrated Le Notre. I call him celebrated, (and he 
 undoubtedly has more claims to the title than some 
 who have obtained it on the battle field,) because his 
 name is so closely associated with the history of sci- 
 entific gardening and with so many localities which 
 his taste contributed to beautify. 
 
 I will not detain you in giving a description of this 
 garden any further than to say, that it is of immense 
 size, a parallelogram of sixty-seven acres ; and that 
 there are in it abundance of beautiful flower plats, 
 beautiful fountains and statues, and beautiful trees 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 143 
 
 and shady walks ; although, if one were disposed to 
 be critical, he might justly add, that the grounds are 
 laid out in some places in a style of straight lines and 
 angles which seem too artificial ; and still more deci- 
 dedly, that some of the statues, although displaying 
 artistic skill, lose their aesthetic power and value by 
 calling into revolt the sentiments of modesty and mo- 
 rality. But I recollect, that I sat down with old Pau- 
 lin by my side near the brink of a beautiful fountain ; 
 and that I fed from my hand two queenly swans that 
 floated proudly on its bosom ; and seeing over my 
 head the nodding magnificence of the glorious lime 
 trees and chesnut trees, with flowers of all varied and 
 brilliant hues, (for there were many yet remaining,) I 
 was disposed to enjoy the beautiful, and to forget the 
 deformed. In other words I had no disposition for 
 criticism. And especially because there is something 
 to be seen here every pleasant day, far more interest- 
 ing to me, than anything I have mentioned ; — I mean 
 happy groups of men, women and children. 
 
 What a glorious creature is man, — at least when he 
 stands erect in truth and simplicity of spirit. Statu- 
 ary and painting can give the semblance, but not the 
 reality. I look, for instance, upon a statue ; and I 
 admit with pleasure the truth of its likeness and the 
 skill of the artist ; — but at the same time I say almost 
 instinctively, that it is not a man ; it is not a woman. 
 It is something which satisfies the eye of the senses 
 rather than the eye of the heart ; — it is a thing which 
 is done rather than a thing which is ; — it has no in- 
 ward history, no conceptions which reach forth into the 
 infinite, and eternal, no palpitations of beneficence, 
 
144 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 no heavenly filaments of love, going out in every di- 
 rection and encircling universal humanity. But a 
 true man and a true woman is all this. It is the liv- 
 ing, therefore, far more than their semblances in mar- 
 ble, which awaken the emotions of the soul. And 
 whenever I see groups of men, women and children, 
 with the marks of truth and innocence sanctioning a 
 true or a restored humanity, my heart goes out in the 
 deepest sympathy with their innocent pleasures ; and 
 the sight of their happiness is the source of my own. 
 These are the true ornaments of the garden of the 
 Tuilleries ; — statues that have life, the works of God 
 and not of Praxiteles ; — flowers that bloom without 
 fading because they live in perpetual succession. 
 
 At the eastern end of this garden is the Palace )— 
 a magnificent pile of buildings, reaching from the Rue 
 Rivoli to the Seine. It is called the Tuilleries or pal- 
 ace of the tile-kiln, from the circumstance that it is 
 erected on the spot where a tile-kiln formerly stood. 
 The mighty palatial edifices, which are found every- 
 where in Europe, fascinate the eye and call forth feel- 
 ings of admiration ; but it is necessary and sometimes 
 painful to remember, that they have required ages in 
 their construction, and have taxed the wealth and la- 
 bor, and perhaps the tears of a nation. The erection 
 of this edifice was begun by Catherine de Medicis in 
 1564 ; — the works were continued by Henry IV. and 
 Louis XIII. ; — and it was not till nearly a century af- 
 ter its beginning that Louis XIV. in 1644 gave direc- 
 tions to have it finished. Built at different periods, it 
 exhibits different styles of architecture, which elicit 
 their just and appropriate degrees of admiration ; — an 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 145 
 
 evidence of what the lovers of art begin more fully to 
 understand, that beauty is infinite in its developments, 
 though it may be contemplated and appreciated from 
 different points of view in different periods of civili- 
 zation. 
 
 Napoleon resided for some time in this palace ; and 
 it bears the impress of his active and inventive 
 mind, as well as of those who preceded him. It was 
 Napoleon who erected the triumphal arch, which 
 forms the principal entrance to the court and palace 
 of the Tuilleries on the eastern side. This beautiful 
 arch is sixty feet wide and forth-five feet high ; and 
 is constructed after the plan of the arch of Septimius 
 Severus at Rome. And those who claim to be judges 
 regard it as equalling the beauty of the original. It 
 has three passage ways, the central one fourteen feet 
 in width ; and is adorned on both fronts with Corin- 
 thian columns, and with bas-reliefs representing the 
 victories of the Emperor. The whole is surmounted 
 in the centre by a triumphal car and four bronze 
 horses, modelled after the celebrated horses of Lysip- 
 pus, which ornament the square of St. Mark in 
 Venice. The originals were once here, but in the 
 reverses of war have been carried back again. — 
 Repeatedly I found myself looking with deep interest 
 at this picturesque group of horses. They are cer- 
 tainly executed with great skill. With their dark 
 breasts, with their wild curving necks and uplifted 
 hoofs, they seemed, on their lofty position, like mighty 
 beings, conscious of their strength and marching 
 through the air. 
 
 In examining this part of the city, I called into 
 13 
 
146 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 requisition the recollections of the old soldier who 
 accompanied me as a guide ; and besides other 
 objects of interest, he pointed out a number of locali- 
 ties, whose memorials had been written in blood. I 
 do not know that it would be profitable, particularly 
 to repeat them. The Tuilleries itself has been the 
 theatre of revolutionary movements, which have 
 affected at different times the destinies of France. — 
 And I was surprised to find, that it was at the west 
 end of the garden of the Tuilleries, at a little dis- 
 tance, in the place now called the Place de la Con- 
 corde, that Louis XVI. and his queen Antoinette 
 were executed. 
 
 The story of the trial and execution of Louis XVI. 
 and his queen, together with the trying incidents con- 
 nected with their residence in the prison of the 
 Temple, as related by Clery, forms one of the most 
 deeply interesting personal histories which are to be 
 found in the records of the human race. I went 
 through the splendid mansions of Versailles, where 
 they had once resided amid scenes of magnificence 
 which had never been surpassed ; — I visited the prison 
 of the Temple, a part of which still remains, and saw 
 the rooms of their humiliation and suffering, and the 
 two trees, still standing, where the good king took 
 his sad and solitary meals in the last days before he 
 was led out to death ; I went down into the gloomy 
 cell of the Conciergerie prison where the queen was 
 confined after being transferred from the Temple, the 
 deep and dark place of her increased suffering and 
 tears, of her prayers and religious hopes ; and now 
 stood upon the spot where both fell under the blow of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 147 
 
 the executioner. The whole world, enabled to con- 
 template these transactions in consequence of the high 
 position of the sufferers, — the world in the utmost 
 extent of its civilization sitting in judgment upon the 
 judges, — pronounced the victims innocent and the 
 nation criminal ; and Providence, which judges all 
 things, — that unerring Providence " which destroys 
 with the sword those that take the sword ;" confirmed 
 the decision. 
 
 I found my old soldier, in whom I had begun to 
 take quite an interest, well acquainted with these 
 localities. We wandered together through the Louvre, 
 the Palais Royal, and along the banks of the Seine. 
 He evidently was a man of a good deal of informa- 
 tion and of a true Heart ; and though he kept with 
 me some eight or ten days, I never noticed any dis- 
 turbance of his patience and equanimity except at 
 this time. Happening to notice near the Place du 
 Carrousel, a book stall containing many ancient books, 
 I stopped to read. I found among them an English 
 copy of Wesley's hymns, those beautiful hymns which 
 I have so often heard the good Methodists sing in 
 America, — and .read longer than usual. Meanwhile 
 Paulin, as he was a little apt to do when he saw me 
 take a book, wandered off a little distance. He came 
 back, however, in due season ; but very considerably 
 excited, alledging that he had been insulted. 1 asked 
 by whom and in what way. As to the person he said 
 he did not know and did not desire to know ; but 
 that in passing him the fellow had impertinently 
 looked him in the face, and asked him without pre- 
 amble or reason, by what authority he wore his 
 
148 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 moustache ; — a very unnecessary question, he said, to 
 be put to an old soldier of the empire. Such are the 
 strange and almost ludicrous incidents which mingle 
 in everywhere. I condoled with the old man, whose 
 feelings were evidently hurt, and proposed to him to 
 exchange the place of such discreditable encounters 
 for the Hotel de Ville. 
 
 The Hotel de Ville, begun in 1533 and completed 
 in 1606, is the place where the Prefect of the Depart- 
 ment of the Seine resides ; and is properly regarded, 
 with its modern improvements, as one of the finest 
 municipal buildings in Paris. It contains a number 
 of large and elegant apartments, adorned with paint- 
 ings and statues, besides the hundred and fifty smaller 
 rooms, occupied by the public offices, which are 
 necessary in the municipal transactions. The city 
 library of 60,000 volumes, and occupying three large 
 rooms, is here, — containing among other works of 
 interest, four thousand volumes of official American 
 publications. The Hotel de Ville is one of the his- 
 torical places of France. It was to the Hotel de Ville 
 that Louis XVI. in the memorable epoch of 1789, was 
 escorted by the agitated people, when with a violence, 
 originating in fears and anxieties which they, at least, 
 supposed to be well founded, they compelled him to 
 leave his beautiful Versailles. It was here, by means 
 of committees and councils which have acquired a 
 sanguinary celebrity, that many of the patriotic or 
 bloody movements of the first Revolution were organ- 
 ized. It was here, in a room which is still shown, in 
 the year 1794, that Robespierre fled and was wound- 
 ed, previously to his trial and execution. It was here 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 149 
 
 in the year 1830, after the sanguinary encounters 
 which resulted in the expulsion of Charles X., that 
 Louis Phillippe met and embraced Lafayette in the 
 presence of the people, and intiated the Orleans 
 dynasty. And here were the tumultuous scenes in 
 the revolution of 1848, which Lamartine has so 
 eloquently described, and in which he personally had 
 so large and honorable a share. 
 
 In front of the Hotel de Ville is the place or square, 
 which is used often for festival and other public occa- 
 sions, called the Place de Greve. In former times 
 this was also the place of public executions ; and 
 there are few places which have been more frequently 
 stained with human blood. And one transaction 
 occurred here, which I am tempted particularly to 
 recall. It was as far back as the year 1310. It was 
 here at that time, that a young woman of sincere 
 piety and unblemished character was put to death as 
 a heretic. Her name was Margaret Porette. She 
 never thought of fame ; but her name can never be 
 forgotten. She belonged to that remarkable class of 
 people, (they will not allow themselves to be called a 
 sect because they are averse to the denominations 
 and restrictions of party,) called the Mystics and 
 sometimes Quietists. The state of inward religious 
 experience, at which they aim and which they profess 
 to attain, is that of divine union or union with God ; 
 in such a sense that the soul, having its evil passions 
 subdued and cast out, is in the true recipient state, 
 and has its thoughts, affections and purposes from 
 God alone. They believe also in an overruling 
 Providence, which has the control of all things in a 
 13* 
 
150 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 general sense ; but which in the case of those who 
 are reunited to the Godhead, regulates in everything 
 every movement and incident of their destiny. And 
 this destiny, whether high or low, whether an allot- 
 ment of tears or of joy, they accept with resignation 
 and with smiles. Christ is their model, and the ser- 
 mon on the Mount their text-book. They hold to the 
 doctrine of pure or perfect love, — that is to say of 
 unselfish love, — as the only true principle of life. — 
 They return good for evil ; and suffer in silence. — 
 This class of persons is unknown to the world, 
 because the world cannot comprehend it. They suf- 
 fered or died in prison in the person of Molinos and 
 Madame Guy on ; they were banished in the person 
 of Fenelon ; but neither banishment nor imprison- 
 ment, nor death quenched the waters of life which 
 flowed in their souls. They died and history gave 
 no record, because they made no resistance and gave 
 no sign except this one, — " Father, forgive them, for 
 they know not what they do." For holding these 
 pure and exalted principles, Margaret Porette, in the 
 bloom of life, was put to death. This is the place 
 which heard her last prayer, and was moistened with 
 her virgin blood. Standing on the very spot more 
 than five hundred years after, I found something in 
 my heart, which disposed me to cherish the memory 
 of her piety and of her sorrowful but triumphant end. 
 With a heart thus filled with historical and religious 
 recollections, I turned to Paulin. He reminded me, 
 that he resided in this part of the city. The shadows 
 of evening began to gather around us. And he invi- 
 ted me urgently, and as much on his own account he 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 151 
 
 said as mine, to take my evening meal with him. — 
 His invitation harmonized with my own feelings ; 
 and in fact I had previously given him to understand 
 that I would not leave Paris, without seeing him at 
 his own home. He was the more urgent, because he 
 said his wife, of whom he spoke with affection and 
 pride, would expect us. I followed the old soldier, 
 whose tottering step seemed to acquire its ancient 
 military precision and firmness, as he led me through 
 street after street, growing more and more winding 
 and narrow and sunless, till I found myself in one of 
 those places, which nourish the principles of revolt, 
 and where the fires of revolution are ever burning. — 
 As we passed, one after another, the laborers and dis- 
 banded soldiers that dwelt in these gloomy precincts, 
 they stood silent and stern. They have their mutual 
 understandings, their watch-words, and leaders ; and 
 Paulin, whom they all knew, introduced me to the 
 man who seemed to be judge and leader among them. 
 I shall not easily forget his slight but muscular frame, 
 and his dark, searching eye, at first doubtful and 
 hostile, but afterwards when he had conversed with 
 Paulin and understood that I was an American, soft- 
 ening into confidence and respect. 
 
 We passed from the narrow lane into a lofty and 
 dark building which must have been built centuries 
 ago, and after going through narrow and winding 
 passages without light, we began to ascend. One 
 flight of stairs succeeded another, originally strong 
 but now worn and tremulous. The balustrades were 
 gone ; and their place was supplied by single ropes 
 extended from the top to the bottom of each flight of 
 
152 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 stairs. Paulin went in advance and invisible ; for 
 only here and there, at considerable intervals, a little 
 light broke through the thick walls which enclosed 
 this old castle. But I heard the old man's voice, 
 directing me to hold on by the rope ; — a direction 
 which was hardly necessary, as there seemed to be 
 nothing else, to which I could conveniently attach 
 myself. When we had reached a landing-place some- 
 where in the fourth or fifth story, two little boys sud- 
 denly rushed out of a door, with a light, and holding 
 a vessel in their hands with coals in it. I asked 
 Paulin what was the meaning of this. He said there 
 were forty families in this old building ; and that the 
 boys belonged in this part of it, and were trying to kin- 
 dle a little fire to cook their supper with. I was glad to 
 find that I was still within the precincts of human 
 existence ; when I heard again in the darkness the 
 "memento 1 ' of the old man, not to mind the boys but 
 to hold on by the rope. We reached at last the final 
 landing-place ; and thrusting my head from a small 
 open window near it, and looking down into a dark 
 court below where I could see no bottom, I had all 
 my ideas confirmed of my singular and interesting 
 position. 
 
 Paulin opened the door of his little room, and with 
 a grace which seems to be natural to a Frenchman, 
 introduced me to his excellent wife; She was neatly 
 and almost elegantly dressed. Fifty years had given 
 her some gray hairs ; but had not bowed her form, 
 nor dimmed the lustre of her eye. This, said Paulin, 
 is our little room ; and it is all the room we have. I 
 was pleased to see that everything in the room was 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 153 
 
 neat and comfortable. The fire was kindled ; the 
 table was spread ; we ate together ; and I spent a 
 pleasant hour in conversation with these poor and 
 virtuous people. Poverty had not hardened their 
 hearts ; sorrow had not clouded their brow ; age itself 
 had not extinguished the truth and vivacity of 
 humanity. 
 
 The wife of Paulin was grateful that I had come. 
 I encouraged her to speak of her personal history. I 
 learnt from her, (what I had suspected from some 
 remarks of her husband,) that she was the daughter 
 of a rich and titled family, and had been well educa- 
 ted. But in those convulsions and reverses, of which 
 there have been such frequent exhibitions in Europe, 
 she became an outcast from her early home and ex- 
 ceedingly poor. She accepted her allotment without 
 murmuring, married a common soldier, and worked 
 for her daily bread. She spoke of America with 
 interest. She said she once had a sister who resided 
 there ; and if she were young, would be disposed to 
 go there herself. She lived now amid walls of dark- 
 ness ; but without ceasing to love the open air and 
 the blue heavens. There are birds, she said, in 
 America ; and she would love to hear again the sing- 
 ing of birds, as in the days of her happy childhood. 
 She had been the mother of children ; the most of 
 whom had died. And when in her broken English, 
 which she aided in making intelligible by the elo- 
 quence of her countenance and manner, she spoke of 
 her two little boys, both buds of promise bright and 
 beautiful, and both dying nearly at the same time, 
 the tear stood in her rich dark eye ; and old Paulin, 
 
154 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 moved by this affecting remembrance, bowed down 
 his white head. 
 
 I left these good people with feelings of respect 
 and affection. They lighted me down through the 
 dark passages, which I had so much difficulty in 
 ascending. I found my way towards the banks of 
 the Seine. The clear sky was studded with stars, 
 which threw their silver light on the trees of the gar- 
 den of the Tuilleries and the mirror of the beautiful 
 water. Many reflections crowded upon my mind. — • 
 And my heart ascended to that great Power, whose 
 eye is in every place, that he would give freedom to 
 the oppressed and comfort to the poor. 
 
 (XVIII.) 
 
 Unexpected meeting with American friends — Departure from Paris for 
 Lyons — Voyage down the river Soane — The city of Lyons — The 
 meeting of the Soane and the Rhone — Character of the French 
 people. 
 
 LYONS, FRANCE, DEC. 9, 1852. 
 
 On the evening of the 7th of December, I left 
 Paris for Lyons, on my way to Sardinia. A number 
 of incidents occurred on that day, which have since 
 been recalled to mind with much interest. In the 
 course of the forenoon the door of my room opened, 
 and I unexpectedly found myself in the company of 
 one, with whom I had formerly been much associa- 
 ted. We had lived in the same village ; been mem- 
 bers of the same church ; and had labored on many 
 occasions in the promotion of the same objects of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 155 
 
 christian benevolence. To meet under such circum- 
 stances was to live again the life of memory. But 
 time has its sad, as well as its pleasant recollections. 
 The hand of sorrow had been upon him. His young 
 and beautiful wife had died. Her dust sleeps in 
 America ; but her name was recalled with sadness 
 and affection in a foreign land. 
 
 Towards the evening of the same day I was visi- 
 ted by another person, a graduate of Bowdoin Col- 
 lege, who had formerly sustained to me the relation 
 of a pupil ; but now, in the increased maturity of his 
 powers and hopes, was pursuing his studies in the 
 schools of Paris. "With my recollections of his 
 talents and energy of character, I was not surprised 
 to find him here. He spoke of his Alma Mater with 
 interest and affection, and of his country with a 
 patriotic pride, which showed that the attractions of 
 Europe had not perverted the spirit of liberty or 
 weakened his attachment to his native land. 
 
 At this time my residence was at the Hotel of 
 Meurice. It was afte*r dark when I heard the sound 
 of carriages in the court of the Hotel. It was the 
 signal for the departure of our little party ; — consist- 
 ing of Rev. Mr. Thompson, Mr. and Mrs. Walcott, 
 and myself. The night was cloudy and dark ; but the 
 long splendid streets of Paris were lighted up ; and I 
 gave a parting look to the illuminated expanse of the 
 place De la Concorde and of the Elysian Fields, We 
 departed by the railway, called the Paris and Lyons 
 Railway, which will lead, when completed, by the 
 most direct route to the large and beautiful city of 
 Lyons in the south of France. With darkness over 
 
156 LETTERS-AESTHETIC, 
 
 our heads and the thunder of our iron wheels under 
 our feet, we passed rapidly through a portion of the 
 heart of this great kingdom. The necessity of thus 
 travelling by night, occasioned by some previous 
 delays, deprived us of the pleasure of seeing Melun, 
 Fontainbleau, Dijon, and some other interesting 
 places. Early the next morning we reached Chalons 
 on the Soane; called by the French Chalons sur Soane 
 to distinguish it, I suppose, from a town of some note 
 on another river, Chalons sur Mame. Chalons, a town 
 of twelve thousand inhabitants, is situated upon the 
 banks of the river which gives it its distinctive name, 
 — two hundred and fifty miles southeast from Paris. 
 As the railroad was not completed further than this 
 place, we embarked on one of the steamboats of the 
 Soane. The boat was peculiarly constructed, being 
 long and narrow ; — at least a hundred and fifty feet 
 in length by fifteen in breadth. Five such steamers 
 descend the Soane daily to Lyons. A heavy mist 
 hung upon the waters. As the sun arose, which has 
 its cheerful light for all lands, I the mists gave way, 
 and unveiled the face of nature in its aspects of 
 beauty. The Soane reminded me of the rivers which 
 were familiar to me in America. It is a large river, — 
 apparently about the size of the Connecticut above 
 Hartford ; or of the beautiful Kennebec at Augusta, 
 in Maine. At this time it was swollen by recent 
 heavy rains to its utmost capacity, and rushed on 
 with great violence. The smoke-pipe of the steam- 
 boat was lowered, when we reached the numerous 
 bridges ; arid even then, the Soane ran so high, that 
 we passed under them with difficulty. With deep 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 157 
 
 interest my eye rested upon the continually changing 
 scene of hills and valleys; cottages, gardens, forests 
 and vineyards. We passed a number of beautiful 
 villages, besides the larger towns of Macon, Thoissey 
 and Trevoux. In some low places the river had 
 swollen over its banks and inundated the neighboring 
 country ; so that we had the appearance of sailing in 
 the midst of a lake interspersed with islands. 
 
 The boat was filled with Frenchmen, Americans 
 and Englishmen. The Americans and English ap- 
 peared happy. They bore the step and the look of 
 freemen. The French, notwithstanding their natural 
 vivacity, were sad and silent. They had just passed 
 from the Republic to the Empire. Many of them 
 had perhaps voted for the Empire, in consequence of 
 what they considered the necessities of their position. 
 They preferred the easy quiet which is secured by 
 cannon and the bayonet, to the free thought and the 
 forensic agitations of liberty. Undoubtedly liberty 
 has its storms ; but the storm has its health and its 
 grandeur. In the days of the Caesars there were no 
 thunders in the Senate of Rome. And in France too 
 the voice of her orators is silent, — that voice of reason 
 and of mighty eloquence, which gave inspiration to 
 the thoughts and purposes of other nations. If the 
 French should find, that, in going back in the career 
 of liberty, they have sullied their national honor in 
 the eyes of the world, and especially in the eyes of 
 those chained and bleeding communities, which have 
 looked to them for hope, they will not be likely to 
 rest easy until they have re-adjusted their position. 
 
 Chalons is seventy-six miles from Lyons ; and the 
 14 
 
158 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 distance was run in some five or six hours. As we 
 approached the city, the swollen river became com- 
 pressed between banks which are lofty and pictur- 
 esque. Occupying a large space, and containing two 
 hundred thousand inhabitants, the city of Lyons is 
 beautifully situated on the point of land where the 
 Soane and the Rhone unite ; — extending itself, how- 
 ever, over both banks of both rivers. The commu- 
 nication between different parts of the city is main- 
 tained by means of numerous substantial bridges ; 
 eight of which are thrown across the Rhone ; and the 
 Soane is spanned by a still greater number. Lyons 
 is three hundred and twenty-six miles southeast from 
 Paris. 
 
 We stopped about the middle of the day at a good 
 hotel, which the French with a harmless but charac- 
 teristic amplification have styled the Hotel of the 
 Universe. It is near the large square, called Belle- 
 cour, which the Lyonese, and apparently with a good 
 deal of reason, assert to be one of the most beautiful 
 squares in Europe. It is very spacious, is adorned 
 with rows of lime trees, and in the centre is an 
 equestrian statue of Louis XIV. Walking out alone, 
 and desirous of combining the aspects of nature with 
 those of human art and labor, I went from the square 
 of Bellecour to the Rhone, — the Rhone memorable 
 in history, the beautiful child of the Alps, but here 
 swollen to a large river. Going upon one of the 
 bridges which are thrown over this river, and looking 
 down its channel, I saw, as I supposed, at the dis- 
 tance of about a mile, the place of its junction with 
 the Soane. Feeling an interest to see the meeting of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 159 
 
 these rival waters, I walked in the direction of the 
 place. The Rhone dashed along beautifully, — fresh 
 from its native mountains, — and curling its blue and 
 noisy waters, as if laughing and singing in the full- 
 ness of its purity and happiness. I felt my heart 
 grow warmer and my step more firm and proud, as I 
 walked by the side of this noble stream. As I reach- 
 ed an elevated position on the point of land where 
 they meet, the Soane, swelled by the late inundation 
 of rains, wheeled in from the right with mighty force, 
 ploughing across and stopping the Rhone in a mo- 
 ment. After this freak of momentary power, its dark 
 and turbid current resumed its original direction ; and 
 taking her blue sister from the Alps by the hand, they 
 went onward gaily to the ocean. And thus it gene- 
 rally happens, that beauty, though less strong and 
 violent at first, conquers in the end. From this point 
 onwards the two rivers are married into one ; and the 
 Soane, forgetting itself in the charms of its associate, 
 takes the name of the free and bright daughter of the 
 mountains. 
 
 On the very next day after reaching Lyons, — the 
 day of the date of this letter, — we have already made 
 our preparations, and are about to leave France for 
 the Alps and Sardinia. And in departing from this 
 beautiful country, I am obliged to say, that I have 
 found some of my previous opinions in relation to 
 the French modified ; but modified in their favor. — > 
 The French and English represent in modern times 
 the Greeks and Romans of antiquity. If the English 
 may be regarded as inheriting the wide intellectual 
 grasp with the fixed and obstinate courage of the old 
 
160 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 Romans, the French seem to possess the inventive 
 power, the refinement, the vivacity, and enthusiasm 
 of the Greeks. In estimating the French character, 
 it would be a mistake to set aside the women of 
 France. It is well known that the French women 
 have great influence in all the relations of life in 
 France ; and their influence is the natural result of 
 the characteristics which are usually and justly ascrib- 
 ed to them. No one doubts the courage of a French- 
 man ; but it is not the quiet, calculating, indomitable 
 courage of an Englishman. It is obvious, excitable, 
 declamatory ; he may be said to carry it upward and 
 onward, in the sight of everybody, on the point of 
 the bayonet. In the French woman, who is excluded 
 by her sex and position in society from the battle field, 
 love takes the place of courage ; and there is a simi- 
 lar outward development of it. It moves in her step ; 
 sparkles in her eye ; is heard in the sweet intonations 
 of her voice ; lives in her unaffected but animated 
 gesticulation. These interesting traits necessarily 
 give the women of France power ; — a power how- 
 ever, which may be turned to evil as well as to good. 
 Under other and more favorable circumstances the 
 French people would take a still higher stand than 
 they have hitherto held. They need, in the first place, 
 well regulated liberty. I know that some persons 
 maintain, that the French are not capable of main- 
 taining a republic. But I must confess that these 
 well meaning persons appear to me too easily fright- 
 ened, besides doing no small injustice to the French 
 people. Break from a poor prisoner's arms the chains 
 which have bound them for twenty or thirty years ; 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 161 
 
 and it is but natural that he should leap from the 
 ground, if he has strength to do it, and utter loud 
 cries of joy, and in his extatic flourishes scandalize 
 the sobriety or disturb the quiet position of his neigh- 
 bor. But give him a little time, and it will be seen 
 that the violent vibrations of early liberty will settle 
 down into a just and peaceable movement. It will 
 be the same with liberated nations. 
 
 And in order to the perfection of the Frenchman's 
 character, it should be said further, that he needs, in 
 common with all men and all peoples, a deep religious 
 sentiment ;-— such as would naturally spring from a 
 more general and thorough study of the Bible and its 
 great truths. I believe it is conceded on all hands, 
 that there is no character more interesting, none more 
 suited to the fulfillment of all public and private 
 duties, than that of the Frenchman, when those in- 
 teresting natural traits which he possesses are purified 
 by the influences of religion. What nation, what 
 people would be likely to furnish missionaries and 
 preachers of equal ardor and eloquence ? I have 
 heard their prayers in their little assemblies ; I have 
 listened to their burning aspirations for the good of 
 man ; and I cannot suppress the hope, that this noble 
 people will not only possess freedom and religion in 
 their own land ; but will yet have a prominent part 
 in extending them to other nations. 
 
 14* 
 
162 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 (XIX.) 
 
 Savoy and its wild mountain scenery — Rousseau — A night scene — The 
 limestone cliff — Hannibal and Napoleon — City of Chamberri, the 
 capitol of Savoy — The pass of Mount Cenis — Italy. 
 
 TURIN, KINGDOM OF SARDINIA, DEC. 13, 1852. 
 
 In company with my much valued travelling com- 
 panions, I came from France into Italy through the 
 Savoyard Alps, and by the pass of Mount Cenis. — 
 The day of our departure from Lyons was mild and 
 pleasant, notwithstanding the lateness of the season. 
 Taking the nearest route to Chamberri, the principal 
 town of Savoy, we passed through a portion of the 
 French territory, which exhibited everywhere marks 
 of fertility and good cultivation, besides being rich in 
 variegated scenery. At this season of the year it 
 would be difficult and perhaps dangerous to attempt 
 to enter Italy by some of the other routes, filled as 
 they are said to be with snows and exposed to 
 avalanches. In journeying from Lyons to the village 
 of Pont Beauvoisin situated on a small river, called 
 the Guiers Vif, which separates France from Savoy, 
 we were in full sjght, during a part of the day, of 
 Mont Blanc and other Alpine peaks, which reared 
 their snow-covered and well denned forms in the 
 distance. 
 
 Savoy is now a part of the kingdom of Sardinia, 
 And in the part of the village of Pont Beauvoison, 
 which is on the Savoy or Sardinian side of the 
 Guiers Vif, is a custom house, where our baggage 
 was subjected to a slight examination. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 163 
 
 Travellers sometimes complain of these things ; — 
 but I must confess that they did not trouble me much. 
 We found here men and women under a new and 
 different government, speaking a language different 
 from our own and inhabiting a soil never trodden by 
 us before, but the instinctive interpretations of the 
 heart, sacred as the source from which they spring, re- 
 cognized the bonds of universal relationship ; and I 
 loved them without knowing them. 
 
 On leaving this village we found ourselves, in. the 
 course of a few miles, in the midst of the elevated 
 and difficult mountain passes called the gorge of La 
 Chaille. The Guiers Vif, having its origin in the 
 neighboring mountainous region of the Grand Char- 
 treuse, dashes onward from precipice to precipice 
 through this gorge. This region has been described 
 in an eloquent passage of Rousseau. And certainly, 
 this is one of the sublime and eloquent places of na- 
 ture. The road has been formed on the edge of the 
 precipices which overhang the foaming stream be- 
 neath, — sometimes by blasting a passage through the 
 solid rock, sometimes by terraces or embankments of 
 solid masonry built up along the edge of these fright- 
 ful abysses. The shades of evening closed upon us 
 when we were passing through this remarkable region ; 
 but I saw and felt enough to enable me easily to imag- 
 ine, how these wild and terrific scenes must have op- 
 erated upon the creative and vigorous mind of Rous- 
 seau. 
 
 We travelled the whole of that night. There was 
 no light of the moon ; but the stars shone clear and 
 brightly. And as we moved along with considerable 
 
164 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 rapidity and frequently changed our direction, they 
 seemed to be dancing and playing in the green dark 
 tops of the mountains. From time to time another 
 light shone lower down on the mountainous declivi- 
 ties, and yet hundreds of feet above us. It was the 
 light of the cottage on the rocks ; the star of the 
 poor man's hearth, and of domestic relationships and 
 love. On the other side of us and only a few feet 
 distant were dark abysses. As I looked down, I 
 could see nothing but darkness robed in mists. So 
 near did we approach, that sometimes we seemed to 
 be riding on the wings of a dark cloud ; and from 
 the depths invisible came up the troubled sound of 
 foaming waters. 
 
 On the route to Chamberri there is a little village 
 called Les Echelles, which is situated also upon the 
 mountain river, Guiers Vif. There is a valley here, 
 through which the road leads ; but the farther end of 
 it is shut up by a vast limestone rock thrown directly 
 across the way. It is eight hundred feet high. It re- 
 minded me of the rock, which Livy describes as hav- 
 ing stopped the passage of Hannibal for a time when 
 entering Italy through the Alps ; and which he was 
 obliged to soften by heating it and then pouring vin- 
 egar upon it ; and over which he made his way by 
 cutting steps in difficult places when he had softened 
 it is this manner. The road which we took winds 
 part of the way up this massive pile of limestone ; 
 and then passes through an immense artificial tunnel 
 In its centre, which is wide enough to admit two car- 
 riages abreast, and is twenty -five feet high. It is about 
 a thousand long. The excavation of this tunnel, a 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 165 
 
 gigantic conception indicative of the mind of its 
 author, was commenced by Napoleon ; but was finish- 
 ed by the king of Sardinia in 1817. 
 
 It was under these circumstances that I was re- 
 minded of the two great military leaders of ancient 
 and modern times, — Hannibal and Napoleon. Hanni- 
 bal passed over the rocks ; Napoleon went through 
 them. This was the difference between the two men. 
 Hannibal ascended. He loved high places. His foot 
 was on the top of the mountains. He was a soldier, 
 but he had the soul of a republican. Napoleon, too 
 proud or too powerful to go over them, shaped the 
 mountains to his own model ; and he treated men 
 and institutions in the same way. Napoleon too was 
 a soldier and a monarchist. The one modified and 
 vitiated his principles by his inordinate love of his 
 country. The other sacrificed his principles to his 
 ambition. Both took the sword ; and both fell by 
 the sword. Hannibal, showing to his soldiers from 
 the peaks of the Alps, the plains of Italy, and over- 
 throwing mighty armies at Thrasymene and Cannae, 
 carried his standards to the gates of Rome. But the 
 tide of aggressive war, in its terrible revulsion, and 
 by a law of reaction which never fails, rolled back 
 again, and swept away his city and nation. Napole- 
 on too, the conqueror, not only of Italy but of Europe, 
 carried the eagles of his legions to the gates of Mos- 
 cow ; but they had no power to go beyond that bar- 
 rier of fire. The sea of proud and oppressive vio- 
 lence, rolling back, not only overwhelmed his nation, 
 but dashed their ruined leader on the rocks of St. 
 Helena. And this is the great lesson which history 
 
166 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 teaches. What is gained by the violence of the 
 sword, is lost again ; but what is gained by truth 
 and love, is gained forever. 
 
 The night is favorable to reflection ; and such 
 thoughts passed through my mind, as I travelled 
 through the mountains of Savoy under the light of 
 the stars. At midnight we arrived at Chamberri. — 
 Through the region of that city and its neighborhood, 
 I believe it is conceded on all sides, that Hannibal 
 made his way into Italy. This is an old city of ten 
 thousand inhabitants, and is the capitol of Savoy. — 
 It is the birthplace of Xavier Le Maistre, the author 
 of the Leper of Aost and other popular writings ; 
 and Rousseau, whose genius took its hue in part 
 from the wild scenes of nature, resided for a long 
 time in its vicinity. It is situated in the midst of 
 mountains, which rear their heads around it. It has 
 its manufactures, its public library and college ; but 
 its objects of interest are not such as to detain the 
 stranger in it for a long time. 
 
 After resting a short time, we continued our jour- 
 ney during the remainder of the night. The dawning 
 light of the next day found us again in the midst of 
 mountain scenery, and rapidly advancing towards the 
 pass of Mount Cenis ; — through which, as if through 
 the gates of some great and lofty fortress we were to 
 descend into the plains of Italy. In reaching this 
 mountain we passed through the town of Montmiel- 
 lan, situated on the right bank of the river Isere. — 
 From the bridge which is thrown over the Isere, there 
 is a good view of Mont Blanc. At this place there 
 was formerly a strong castle, which was taken and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 16? 
 
 demolished by Louis XIV. Not far from Montmeil- 
 lan the Isere is entered by a beautiful tributary, call- 
 ed the Arc. After reaching this tributary stream, 
 which now offered itself as our guide, we continued 
 our journey on its banks ; and travelled for a long 
 time through the extended valley which is formed by 
 it. On each side the mountains rose to a great height ; 
 i — their heads being covered with snow. In some 
 places they presented an irregular and naked surface 
 of rocks ; in others were covered with earth and cul- 
 tivated to a great height. Small cottages were seen 
 on their sides, and sometimes on their summits ;— a 
 terrible position ; but woman is there ; the family is 
 there ; the gray hairs of the father and the beauty of 
 the daughter. Frequently torrents, white with foam, 
 were seen, dashing around these mountain cottages, 
 and rushing from precipice to precipice in channels 
 which they had worn for ages. This is a place of 
 tempests, as well as of grandeur and sublimity. — 
 Sometimes the storms, which collect in these rocky 
 caverns and gorges, are terrible ; — black with clouds, 
 and marching with thunder and lightning through 
 these gateways of nature and nations, and detaching 
 with vast power large fragments of rock, which lie at 
 frequent intervals along the path of the traveller. 
 
 We were thus hemmed in, among these extraor- 
 dinary manifestations of the works of nature, for 
 some thirty or forty miles ; our journey all the w r ay 
 being close upon the banks of the swift and noisy 
 Arc, which seemed sometimes to be angry and some- 
 times to sing and rejoice as it ran along. The whole 
 distance was a gradual ascent. So that, having passed 
 
168 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 the villages of St. Jean Maurienne, St. Michel, Mo- 
 dane, and some others of less importance, we were 
 thousands of feet above the level of the sea at the 
 village of Lanslebourg, which is at the foot of Mount 
 Cenis. The mountain was covered with snow ; but 
 we were able to ascend it with the aid of extra 
 horses in about four hours. The day had again closed ; 
 but we went on. The culminating point of the pass, 
 through which the road goes, is a short distance be- 
 low the summit, which has been ascertained to be 
 6780 feet above the sea-level. I got out of the car- 
 riage, and leaving the road for a short time, ascended 
 still further on the sides of the summit, and gave my- 
 self up to the reflections inspired by the place. — 
 Some scattered clouds rested heavily over the moun- 
 tain's summit. The light of the stars was reflected 
 from the snows and icy rocks. And thus, after as- 
 cending hill after hill and mountain after mountain, 
 we had Italy at our feet ; — Italy dear to the scholar 
 and the christian ; — Italy once honored by a Senate 
 which was described as an assembly of kings ; — Italy 
 the mistress of the world by its arms, and again and 
 still more truly the mistress of the world by its arts, 
 civilization and literature. 
 
 Every people has its position, its character, its his- 
 tory. In the strong emotions excited by our approach 
 to Italy, I am not willing to forget the people whom 
 I have just left behind. The humble Savoyard, 
 though far from the seats of literature and the glare 
 of power, has a heart which beats true to the snow- 
 crowned hills and cliffs of his birthplace. He is 
 " part and parcel" of our common humanity. But man 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 169 
 
 is to be estimated by his place, as well as his nature* 
 It is place which gives character to nature. The 
 Savoyard is what he is by being where he is. No other 
 people has or can have his thoughts and feelings. — 
 His position has drawn out and nurtured his soul, 
 because his soul is wedded to his position. He knows 
 the history of each rock, of each rude fortification on 
 the mountain's side, of each rivulet and noisy torrent, 
 of the den of the wolf and the nest of the eagle. — 
 He has heard the story of the falling avalanche, which 
 destroyed the cottage and its dwellers, and has wept 
 for their fate. He has the sorrows and the joys, which 
 are common to our nature. I saw him at work in his 
 field. I beheld him seated at the door of his humble 
 cottage. I knew not his name nor his history. But 
 I felt an interest in him, because he was a man. 
 
 (XX.) 
 
 City of Turin — Parliament of Sardinia — Visit to the Waldenses— 
 Character of the people — Ascent of one of the mountains — 
 The cottager and his family — Religious services on the Sabbath — 
 Prayer meeting in the evening — Persecutions of the Waldenses — 
 Milton's sonnet. 
 
 GENOA, KINGDOM OP SARDINIA, DEC. 15, 1852. 
 
 I am writing this letter in the city of Genoa, and 
 in sight of the Mediterranean. Genoa, including 
 some small territory around it, was once a republic ; 
 celebrated for its wealth, power and wisdom. I had 
 hardly reached the city, before I went abroad into its 
 narrow streets. I beheld its marble palaces, now de- 
 15 
 
170 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 faced by time and sorrow. I trod with a melancholy 
 satisfaction the halls, where its celebrated councils had 
 assembled. There are many things, which remind 
 one of its departed greatness. No longer a distinct 
 state, it is now a part of the kingdom of Sardinia.— 
 But some incidents, to which I wish now to refer, 
 will not allow me at the present time, to enter into 
 details in relation to this interesting place. 
 
 My last letter left our little party at the pass of 
 Mount Cenis, and at our entrance into Italy. Passing 
 through Susa and some other places of small impor- 
 tance, we reached Turin ; — a city of more than an 
 hundred thousand inhabitants and situated on the 
 left bank of the Po, near its confluence with the Dora 
 Biparia. It is the capitol of the Sardinian kingdom. 
 The government of this kingdom, which includes 
 within its limits a large portion of Northern Italy, is 
 a constitutional monarchy. The Sardinians feel, as 
 compared with many other States of Europe, that 
 they enjoy a high degree of liberty. The king is popu- 
 lar. At the time of our visit the Parliament of Sar- 
 dinia was in session. Through the kindness of an 
 Italian gentleman, who had formerly resided in Ameri- 
 ca, I was able to visit the House of Deputies. I was 
 much pleased with the appearance of the members. 
 They seemed to be men of intelligence ; — calm and 
 deliberate in their manner, and yet with some sparks, 
 not yet extinguished, of the old Roman fire. They 
 were discussing the subject of modifications and im- 
 provements of the criminal code, which indicated that 
 they had begun to appreciate human rights, and 
 were desirous of consolidating liberty by the establish- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 171 
 
 ment of justice. The same day I went to the hall of 
 the Senate ; but its meeting had just closed. Witness- 
 ing as I did with painful emotions the extinction of 
 the republic in France, I was pleased to find that the 
 voice of liberty had found an utterance, imperfect, 
 perhaps, but still real and emphatic, in the beautiful 
 region of Northern Italy. Religion in the Protestant 
 form is tolerated ; and a large Protestant church has 
 recently been built. In consequence of the troubles 
 and oppressions in other parts of Italy, particularly in 
 Milan, many Italian exiles, estimated by some as high 
 as thirty thousand, have taken up their residence in 
 Turin and other parts of the Sardinian Territory. 
 
 Finding at Turin that we were not far distant from 
 a people, who, though few in number, occupy an in- 
 teresting position in religious history, we thought it 
 desirable to visit them. I refer to the Vaudois of 
 Piedmont ; — better known as the Waldenses. They 
 are scattered on the heights and in the valleys of the 
 Piedmont side of a number of mountains, sometimes 
 distinguished as the Cottian Alps, which separate a 
 part of France from Piedmont. Not being able to 
 visit all of the Waldensian settlements, we selected 
 the valley and the village of La Tour, as being the 
 principal settlement, and in some respects the most 
 interesting place among them. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Walcott not being able to make this 
 excursion, proceeded on their way to Genoa. This 
 diminished our pleasure. But I was accompanied by 
 Mr. Thompson, to whose religious sympathies and 
 personal attention I owe much of the pleasure and 
 beneficial results of my long journeys. Impelled by 
 
172 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 kindred recollections and interests, we went together 
 to the valleys and mountains which the Waldenses 
 inhabit. And there we found a people, whose char- 
 acter corresponded with what history had led us to 
 expect, — simple in their manners, sincere in their re- 
 ligion, firm in their purposes, and giving no small 
 evidence of intelligence. It is difficult to conceive of 
 scenery more picturesque and sublime than is here 
 presented; — a fit residence, as it seemed to me, for 
 those who had learned the two great lessons of God 
 and liberty. The inhabitants generally spoke the 
 French language ; and we found a few persons, owing 
 perhaps to the circumstance of their being frequently 
 visited by Protestants, who had command of a brok- 
 en and imperfect English. As soon as they learned 
 that we were Americans, they recognized at once, and 
 as if by an instinctive impulse, the bond of union 
 and sympathy which led us to their secluded homes. 
 "We learned from them, that they had not only the 
 church and the school house, but also, 'what I had not 
 expected to find, the college. This college was found- 
 ed in 1837, and is now in a flourishing condition. — 
 They had the Bible in their hands ; — their humble 
 and rough pathway in life, had been illuminated by 
 the light of divine truth ; — and the influences of an 
 evil world, kept at a distance by labor and poverty, 
 had not corrupted them. 
 
 It was a natural impulse, which led us to climb their 
 mountain height. We ascended, cliff after cliff; and 
 at every practicable point we found the cottage. In 
 this rude ascent everything interested us ; — not only 
 the wild aspects of nature ; but still more, the cottage 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 173 
 
 and its people. Among a number of little incidents 
 I will mention one. We met a little boy about ten 
 years of age. We talked with him ; and his frank 
 and manly answers pleased us. His countenance was 
 fresh with the mountain breeze, and his dark eye 
 sparkled with the fire of mountain liberty. He seem- 
 ed like a child of the rocks, and a companion of 
 eagles. In a few moments a little girl of nearly the 
 same age came along with the same open and intelli- 
 gent countenance ; with the same free step and look. 
 She was his cousin. At once, strangers as we were, 
 a thousand thoughts and gentle aspirations gathered 
 around these flowers that bloomed upon the cliffs ; — 
 these young but immortal products of the mountains. 
 They showed us the cottage where they resided ; and 
 we went there. The mother of the boy stood at the 
 door; not the less pleased with us that we were 
 pleased with the children. In a few moments the 
 father made his appearance, and invited us in. And 
 I must be permitted to say, though I have been in 
 the palaces of kings, my heart beat with a higher and 
 more sacred emotion, when I found myself seated at 
 the hearth of a Waldensian cottage. 
 
 I looked around the room with deep interest. It 
 was obvious that its inmates were poor. The man 
 wore a dress of coarse and cheap cloth ; but on enter- 
 ing into conversation with him, I could perceive that 
 it covered a heart which was true to its immortal 
 origin ; — -one which tyranny could not break, which 
 superstition could not bend. A fire, kept alive by 
 small billets of wood, blazed feebly upon the hearth. 
 A sick daughter laid upon a bed ; but a smile passed 
 15* 
 
174 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 across her pale and meek countenance, as she turned 
 her dark eye (rom the father to the strangers and from 
 the strangers to the father. It was a novel scene to 
 her; but she seemed to know, by a sort of Walden- 
 sian instinct, that the deep and common sympathies 
 of religious and political feeling were at the bottom 
 of it. The walls of the cottage were rude ; but they 
 were not unpleasant to me. I had seen such in 
 America ; and had known personally that great ex- 
 cellence of character often dwells beneath them. The 
 father pointed us to a small shelf filled with books, 
 which he called his library ; and taking down a large 
 Bible in the French language, he showed it to us ; 
 and also a beautiful copy of the New Testament in 
 the Vaudois dialect, which did not differ much from 
 the French, and which I could read without difficulty. 
 And he showed us also a number of other religious 
 books ; — some of them in the English language of 
 which we had some knowledge. He knew the history 
 of the struggles of religion and liberty. He was him- 
 self a man of prayer. The name of Jesus was dear 
 to him as it was to us. And we found, though sep- 
 arated by nations and oceans, that our hearts, like the 
 mountain torrents, which met and mingled in the val- 
 ley below us, flowed together in the unity of a com- 
 mon love of freedom and a common christian hope. 
 
 The period of our visit to the Waldenses included 
 the Sabbath. Supposing that this excellent people 
 might have something corresponding to our Sabbath 
 schools and Bible classes, we went at an early hour 
 of the Sabbath day to their church, which was not 
 far distant. It is a neat and substantial edifice, paint- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 175 
 
 ed white, and capable of holding nearly a thousand 
 persons. We were glad to see that a considerable 
 number of people, assembled together in this early- 
 part of the day, were engaged in the study of the 
 Bible ; and that they appeared to listen with atten- 
 tion and interest to the explanations and exhortations 
 of their pastor. At a later hour, at the time which 
 is usually appropriated to the forenoon religious wor- 
 ship in America, the people of all classes, the young 
 and old, were seen coming up from the banks of the 
 rivulets which flow through the valleys of La Tour, 
 and down the sides of the mountains. They were 
 neat in their appearance and dress ; — the women, 
 with but few exceptions, wearing caps of snowy 
 whiteness without bonnets ; — and they assembled to- 
 gether and entered the house of worship with the as- 
 pect of persons who venerated and loved the place. 
 The women occupied exclusively one side of the 
 house ; — the men the other. The forenoon service 
 was in French, which is the language spoken by the 
 greater number ; — in the afternoon it was in Italian, 
 and was conducted by one of the Professors in the 
 college, to which allusion has already been made. 
 
 The interest of the religious services, which took 
 place in the course of the day, was repeated and 
 heighteiied by the social prayer-meeting in the eve- 
 ning. A large room, with smaller rooms adjoining, 
 was closely filled at an early hour. Many of those 
 who came together had their Bibles and hymn books. 
 One of the number read a portion from the Bible, the 
 first chapter of the second epistle of Peter, and accom- 
 pained it with remarks. Others followed ; adding 
 
176 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 such remarks as were naturally suggested by the 
 chapter which had been read, but making in every in- 
 stance an earnest and experimental application of 
 them. These remarks were interspersed with repeat- 
 ed and earnest prayers and with singing. There was 
 something exceedingly touching, as their full, sweet 
 voices united in their hymns. Near the close of the 
 meeting, Mr. Thompson arose, and made a short ad- 
 dress to them in the French language. They listen- 
 ed with great attention, and in their parting prayer 
 commended us affectionately to our common Father. 
 They closed the meeting by singing a Doxology ; and 
 as they went out, many of them, and among others 
 the cottager and his wife whom we had visited on 
 the mountain, took us kindly by the hand. Such is 
 the power of religion ; renovating the heart, strength- 
 ening the intellect, and restoring the broken bonds of 
 human brotherhood. 
 
 Not far from this delightful place of prayer, and in 
 sight of the church where we had worshipped during 
 the day, there is a vast naked cliff, projecting from 
 the side and in fact forming a part of the side, of one 
 of the mountain heights. Rising almost perpendicu- 
 larly, and apparently to the height of a thousand feet 
 from its base, it throws its dark and ragged shadow 
 over the valley below. I was told, that this was one 
 of the rugged cliffs, to which the Waldensians fled in 
 the days of their bitter persecutions. Followed by 
 the soldiers with their sharp weapons of death, they 
 climbed to the summit and went out to the projecting 
 points and last footholds of this terrible mountain 
 rock. There they stood, the man with gray locks, the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 177 
 
 husband and the wife, the mother and the infant on 
 her bosom ; rejecting all compromise, holding the 
 truth above life, and leaving it to their powerful 
 enemies either to concede to them the rights of chris- 
 tians and freemen, or to destroy them. These poor 
 people, who had learned Christ from the Bible and 
 at their humble firesides, without power, without 
 wealth, and with but little education, may be said 
 nevertheless, in some important sense at least, to have 
 held in their hands the destinies of Christianity. God 
 gave them strength to meet this terrible crisis. They 
 offered themselves a sacrifice for the truth. 
 
 Long, and with deep emotion, did I look upon this 
 great altar of the blood of these humble but truly 
 heroic martyrs. I had read their history, but it was 
 something more to stand upon the place and let the 
 mountains tell me. Memory would not rest. Imagi- 
 nation, prompted by a bleeding heart, placed the scene 
 before me. I seemed to see it all, as if it were now 
 present. But among that band of believing sufferers, 
 there was one that most of all fixed my attention. — 
 Upon those sharp and lofty cliffs stood the Walden- 
 sian mother. In her poverty she wrapped her coarse 
 garments around her, and pressed her naked feet 
 upon the rocks. With one hand she clasped her 
 infant to her bosom ; — and with the other lifted in 
 earnest prayer, in which the strong faith of Christiani- 
 ty enabled her to remember and to forgive her per- 
 secutors, she awaited the fatal moment. Cruelty 
 triumphed over love and mercy. And it is not sur- 
 prising that nations were filled with sorrow and 
 shame, and that the heart of humanity wept, when it 
 
178 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 was told, that the mother and her infant were hurled 
 down the rocks. 
 
 It was these events, so sad and yet illustrating so 
 wonderfully the power of religion, which gave occa- 
 sion for the touching and sublime sonnet of Milton. 
 
 " Avenge, Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold. 
 E'en them, who kept thy truth so pure, of old — 
 When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, 
 
 Forget not. In thy book record their groans 
 
 Who were thy sheep — and in their ancient fold, 
 Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that roll'd 
 Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 
 
 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 
 
 To Heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow 
 O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 
 
 The triple tyrant : that from these may grow 
 A hundred fold, who having learned thy way 
 % Early may fly the Babylonian woe." 
 
 The story of the Waldenses, which constitutes at 
 the same time the brightest and the darkest page of 
 history, illustrates one great truth, namely, that one of 
 the great forces of Christianity, perhaps its greatest in 
 its contest with the evils of the world, is its ability of 
 patient and forgiving endurance and suffering. The 
 women and children of these celebrated mountains, 
 in consenting to be immolated on the rocks, fought a 
 greater and more effective battle for truth and free- 
 dom, than the battles of Marathon and Yorktown. — 
 They taught the world how to conquer. No marble 
 column marks their grave ; but the mountains are 
 their monument ; and their memorial is in the bosom 
 of God. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 179 
 
 (XXI.) 
 
 Journey from Turin to Genoa, Pisa and Florence — Towns of Monca- 
 lieri and Alessandria — Plain and battle of Marengo — Death of 
 Dessaix — Arrival at Genoa, and some account of it — Protestant- 
 ism in Genoa — Gulf of Spezzia — Napoleon— The iEneid — Passing 
 of the river Magra — Mountains of Carrara — Pisa — Cathedral, 
 baptistry, and leaning tower — Leghorn — The baptism. 
 
 FLORENCE, DUCHY OF TUSCANY, DEC. 21, 1852. 
 
 In prosecuting our journey towards Rome from 
 Turin, we took the route of Genoa and Florence ; — 
 a route which has this advantage, that the traveller 
 can be conveyed from Turin to the town of Arquata, 
 a distance of seventy-eight miles, by railroad. The 
 railroad station at Turin is within the limits of the 
 city, and at the end of the street called the Strada 
 Nuova. The road runs along the banks of the river 
 Po, till it reaches the pleasant town of Moncalieri, 
 which is distinguished by being the site of one of the 
 royal palaces. The palace is on the summit of a hill 
 which overlooks the town, and is the favorite resi- 
 dence of the present royal family of Sardinia. At 
 Moncalieri the railroad crosses the Po, and taking the 
 direction of the city of Asti, which is a considerable 
 place of twenty thousand inhabitants, it there follows 
 the valley of the river Tanaro. The next important 
 town on this route is Alessandria, situated near the 
 confluence of the Tanaro and the Bormida. The 
 road, on leaving Alessandria, runs along the western 
 side of the plain on which was fought the great battle 
 of Marengo, on the 13th of June, 1800. In this 
 bloody battle twenty thousand French under the 
 
180 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 command of Napoleon, tried their strength against 
 forty thousand Austrians, under the command of the 
 old General Melas, who was then eighty-four years 
 of age. Few battles have been more furiously con- 
 tested. The French were driven from their positions, 
 and in full retreat ; when the celebrated Dessaix, one 
 of those remarkable men whom the first French re- 
 public brought into notice, appeared upon the field 
 with an additional force. Meeting Napoleon as he 
 was retreating, he said to him, " I think this is a bat- 
 tle lost." With characteristic pertinacity, but with a 
 foresight which justified the reply, Napoleon answer- 
 ed, " I think it is a battle won." Dessaix led his 
 fresh forces into the contest. The first Consul 
 formed his broken troops behind him. The tide of 
 battle turned. The Austrians were defeated. Dessaix 
 was killed. 
 
 The railroad stops at Arquata, but will be ulti- 
 mately completed to Genoa. Its completion is de- 
 layed for the present, in consequence of the necessity 
 of cutting a tunnel through the Appenines, which 
 cross the line of its path. From Arquata, therefore, 
 we reached Genoa by the ordinary line of convey- 
 ances. We took our lodgings at a place well known 
 to travelers, the Hotel Feder ; which I mention the 
 more particularly because, in the days of the Genoese 
 republic, and of its maritime ascendency, it was the 
 place of the admiralty, and is thus intimately associa- 
 ted with Genoese naval history. It is near the water, 
 and the room which I occupied gave a beautiful view 
 of the harbor, shipping, light-house, and a portion of 
 the surrounding heights. Genoa was anciently styl- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 181 
 
 ed "superba," and her commerce, arts, wealth, her 
 marble palaces, her spirit of liberty, seemed to justi- 
 fy the appellation. But, though seated on rocks, and 
 girded by mountains, and with her feet washed by 
 the waters of the Mediterranean, she has not escaped 
 the 'common destiny of states and nations, which 
 brings, in their appointed time, the marks of weak- 
 ness and decay. With mingled feelings of admira- 
 tion and sorrow I walked through the streets. The 
 beauty has faded from her palaces ; much of her com- 
 merce has passed to other cities ; her republican inde- 
 pendence is merged in the constitutional monarchy of 
 Sardinia ; sorrow sits upon the brow of her people ; 
 but the king and parliament of Sardinia, in the spirit 
 either of sympathy or of patriotism, have respected 
 the character and historical reminiscences of the 
 Genoese, by endeavoring to give them the second 
 place in the kingdom; and it was pleasant to see, 
 if much of their ancient glory had departed, that a 
 degree of courage and hope still remained. 
 
 I could say something of the churches and other 
 public buildings of Genoa, and of the paintings and 
 statuary with which they are ornamented ; but as 
 Italy may be said to be filled with them, and as Flor- 
 ence and Rome and Naples yet remain to be visited, 
 I will leave it to others. I ought to say, however, as 
 a matter of religious interest at the present time, that 
 the Protestant religion, as might naturally be expect- 
 ed from the incorporation of Genoa with Sardinia, is 
 tolerated here. There is a place where the English 
 Episcopal service is regularly performed. The French 
 Protestants also sustain their method of worship. It 
 16 
 
182 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 came to our knowledge, also, that a considerable num- 
 ber of republican exiles from other parts of Italy had 
 found a residence and protection in Genoa. With 
 one of these, a man of intelligence, and whose princi- 
 ples had been tested by sacrifices and sufferings, we 
 formed some acquaintance. 
 
 Our route from Genoa to Florence, which for some 
 time was near the Mediterranean, was diversified by 
 alternations of valleys and reaches of rocky and 
 mountainous heights, from which many picturesque, 
 and sometimes wild and romantic views were pre- 
 sented. The vine, the olive, the mulberry, and fields 
 of wheat were everywhere seen. We passed a num- 
 ber of pleasant villages, and the more considerable 
 towns of Sestri, Spezzia, and Sarzana. Spezzia, a 
 town of seven thousand inhabitants, is situated upon 
 the gulf of the same name ; — a spacious body of 
 water susceptible of being easily fortified, and suffi- 
 ciently extensive to contain the largest navies. This 
 beautiful and justly celebrated gulf was known to 
 the ancients under the name of the Gulf of Luna. 
 
 It was the intention of Napoleon, after his con- 
 quest of Italy, to make this gulf the great naval sta- 
 tion of his empire. He wished to incorporate his 
 name with the ocean as well as with mountains. 
 Everywhere, from the Seine to the Nile, the traveller 
 is reminded of the magnificent conceptions, and 
 may even be said to tread in the very footprints of 
 this remarkable man ; — a man, great in his concep- 
 tions of material nature, great in his energy, great in 
 his estimate of the power of fear and money over the 
 human mind ; but not great enough to estimate the 
 
SOCIAL, ANB MORAL. 183 
 
 truth and power of the spirit of liberty. It is almost 
 a necessity of his nature, that man must estimate men 
 by the measurement which exists in his own heart; 
 and although Napoleon could adjust the measurement 
 of selfishness to tyranny, and of tyranny to universal 
 empire, he had no capacity within him which enabled 
 him to solve the problem of such men as Vane and 
 Hampden, as Lafayette and Washington. 
 
 It is said by some commentators, that Virgil in the 
 first book of the iEneid was aided in his exquisite 
 description of the gulf in which iEneas took refuge 
 after a violent storm, by his recollections of the Spez- 
 zian Gulf. I can easily conceive that it might have 
 been so, although there is no island here which would 
 correspond to the island he has described. No one 
 can doubt, that, in its combinations of land and 
 water, it is a place worthy even of Virgil's pen. If 
 poetry could become embodied, and take up its resi- 
 dence in person, I think it would reside somewhere in 
 this neighborhood. The views, as we passed around 
 the head of these waters, were beautiful as imagina- 
 tion could well conceive. 
 
 On leaving this place we ascended gradually a long 
 reach of rough and lofty hills, and came down on the 
 other side, into the picturesque valley of the Magra. 
 The Magra is .a short river, formed by the smaller 
 rivers and torrents rushing from the neighboring 
 mountains, which seem to be branches from the Ap- 
 penines. It is generally fordable, but when swollen 
 by heavy rains, as it was at this time, it fills a chan- 
 nel of a quarter of a mile in width, and rushes to- 
 wards the Mediterranean with great impetuosity.-^- 
 
184 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 We were all taken by surprise by this sudden appari- 
 tion of foaming waters. A ferry boat, however, soon 
 received us and . our baggage. The boat seemed to 
 be a memorial of departed generations. It was cer- 
 tainly a very old thing, and so much broken on one 
 side, as to invite, at every inclination in that direction, 
 an additional freight from the river. With much 
 noise and much tugging, the honest boatmen, who 
 seemed to constitute a considerable portion of the in- 
 habitants of this mountainous region, conveyed us 
 over the main channel ; but in default of wharf or 
 other suitable landing place, they thrust the head of 
 the boat into a sand bar about fifteen yards from the 
 shore, and then seizing each- of us, individually and 
 bodily, and without giving us time to consider or re- 
 monstrate, carried us in their strong arms to the bank 
 of the river. I called them honest boatmen, but out 
 of regard to strict veracity, I ought, perhaps, to make 
 an exception of the person or persons who took 
 advantage of our peculiar situation and confusion to 
 steal a carpet bag. 
 
 The next considerable town was Sarzana. As we 
 thus travelled along, admiring nature's beauty at every 
 step, and estimating men and institutions as well as 
 nature, we came in sight, (and for this also I was un- 
 prepared), of the marble mountains of Carrara. An 
 Italian gentleman, whom we had taken into our com- 
 pany at Spezzia, pointed them out. He was a dealer 
 in marble, and was going to Leghorn to arrange ship- 
 ments for New York. I saw their white caverns in 
 the distance, and I could not but remember that these 
 mountains had been associated with the history of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 185 
 
 art for more than two thousand years. I was inform- 
 ed that no other quarries furnish marble of the same 
 whiteness and purity. Thus it is, that in the combi- 
 nations of infinite wisdom, nature and mind are made 
 to correspond to each other. That which is finite 
 must work upon that which has form and solidity, — . 
 If there had been no Carrara, there would have been 
 no Michael Angelo, no Canova. What can a work- 
 man do without materials ? God only can work upon 
 nothing. 
 
 The next considerable place upon our route was 
 Pisa. It was formerly a large and flourishing city, 
 and notwithstanding the unfavorable changes it has 
 experienced, it still numbers twenty-five thousand in- 
 habitants. We stopped here a short time to look at 
 the Cathedral, the Baptistery, the Campanile or bell 
 tower, better known as the leaning tower, and other 
 objects of interest which usually attract the notice of 
 travellers. The origin of the cathedral has an his- 
 torical interest. In the year 1063, the Pisan fleet 
 attacked a number of Saracen vessels, in the harbor 
 of Palermo in Sicily, broke through the chain which 
 the Saracens had thrown across the harbor for their 
 protection, and returned home richly laden with the 
 captured spoils. Devoutly ascribing their victory to 
 divine superintendence, the Pi sans resolved to erect 
 a new cathedral, which should at the same time be a 
 monument of their gratitude to God, and an honor to 
 their country. And accordingly its foundation was 
 laid in 1064 ; but it was not completed and consecra- 
 ted until the year 1118 ; — a building which would be 
 likely, even on the slight examination which we were 
 J6* 
 
186 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 able to bestow upon it, to give to many persons some 
 new ideas of the energy and resources of the Italian 
 states and republics of the middle ages. In the nave 
 of this cathedral hangs suspended the bronze lamp, 
 which suggested to Galileo the theory of the appli- 
 cation of the pendulum. The Campanile or leaning 
 tower, to which I have referred, is fifty feet in diame- 
 ter, and an hundred and seventy-eight in height.— 
 There are seven bells on its summit, the largest weigh- 
 ing twelve thousand pounds. With this great weight 
 upon it, and rising in eight successive stories to such 
 a height, it leans over, in consequence of sinking on 
 one side, at the foundation, with an inclination at the 
 top of thirteen feet from its original perpendicular 
 position, producing on the mind of the beholder, by 
 the combined influence of the beauty and greatness 
 of the object, and its unexampled and perilous incli- 
 nation, a very singular and powerful effect. Pisa is 
 situated upon the Arno, one of the many rivers of 
 Italy, which have a classical celebrity. 
 
 Availing ourselves of the railroad which now con- 
 nects Pisa with Florence in one direction, and with 
 Leghorn in another, we made a short excursion to the 
 latter place, a journey of thirteen miles, and which 
 was accomplished by railroad in thirty minutes. The 
 traveller will be well repaid by taking it, although 
 Leghorn is known more by its commerce than its 
 works of art. We rode round the city, cast a glance 
 upon its massive fortifications, and had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing the flags of different nations, — among 
 them that of America, — floating peacefully together 
 in the beautiful harbor. Leghorn, which, among the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 187 
 
 cities in this part of the Mediterranean, is second as 
 a commercial place only to Marseilles and Genoa, 
 contains seventy thousand inhabitants, eight thousand 
 of whom are Jews. The Jews have their full share of 
 the business of the city, and their richly ornamented 
 synagogue, to which we gained access without diffi- 
 culty, will well recompense a visit from the traveller. 
 In the Protestant cemetery, filled with memorials of 
 the dead of different nations, we stood beside the 
 dust of some of our own people, who had died in 
 this distant land. 
 
 Resuming our seats in the cars, and returning to 
 Pisa, we proceeded immediately to Florence, which is 
 reached by the railroad in a few hours. It is from 
 Florence, the capital of the dukedom of Tuscany, 
 that I date this letter ; and here I rest for the present, 
 though it is but for a short time. Inquiring of my- 
 self as I went to my solitary room, what had been 
 the effect of this journey thus far upon my own mind, 
 I found that it had been to generalize my feelings, 
 and to inspire them with a purer and deeper benevo- 
 lence at the same time that it extended them. It was 
 difficult for me before, except by a sort of abstract 
 effort, to carry my feelings beyond America, and to 
 bring them into a realizing sympathy with unknown 
 races. I found, however, that there is a wide and 
 great nation beyond that of any particular nationality. 
 The sphere of humanity, the circle of divinely united 
 hearts, enlarged itself as I advanced ; and I can say 
 with Kotzebue and Mungo Park that in every land 
 where I have been I have found evidences of confi- 
 dence and of friendship. 
 
188 LETTERS— ESTHETIC, 
 
 To me this is a great deal. I value intellectual 
 acquisitions ; but still more do I want my heart 
 enlarged to its utmost capacity. This train of thought 
 and feeling recalled an incident which occurred at 
 Pisa. Our little company were standing in the cele- 
 brated building called the Baptistery. In a little time 
 our attention was diverted from the architectural skill 
 displayed in the building to a religious ceremony, 
 which was about to be performed. Some poor people 
 had brought a child to be baptized. We looked on, 
 Protestants as we were, with those feelings of respect 
 which are due from one form of religion to another. 
 When the religious ceremony had been gone through, 
 the poor Italian mother, in passing out of the build- 
 ing, came near the excellent lady, who formed one 
 of our little company, and entered into communica- 
 tion with her ; — not by vocal language, because they 
 could not in that way understand each other ; but by 
 that mysterious sympathy of souls, which has a 
 power above that of words. It was sufficient, though 
 of different creeds and differently situated, that both 
 were mothers. God and nature brought into harmony 
 what lands and creeds might have separated. The 
 American mother stooped down and kissed the little 
 child of the Italian mother ; and seeing the evidence 
 of their poverty in their poor and rude garments, 
 added a present in money to this expression of her 
 affection. This little scene of unaffected benevolence 
 touched my feelings. It was the voice of humanity 
 asserting its eternal relationships. The tear grew 
 bright in the eye of the Italian mother, and dropped 
 on the cheek of the infant ; and I could see in the 
 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 189 
 
 countenance of the old priest and a number of poor 
 Catholics who stood around, that a ray of mutual 
 confidence and esteem was kindled in their hearts. — 
 And I could not but feel, if men would become 
 better acquainted with each other and let the currents 
 of love flow out, it would be a moral force greater 
 than the sword, greater than dogmatical argument, in 
 diminishing diversities of belief, in correcting errors, 
 in harmonizing antagonistical systems, and in bring- 
 ing in Christ's kingdom of universal peace. 
 
 (XXII.) 
 
 Situation of Florence — Origin of the Republic of Florence — Appear- 
 ance and character of the people — Cathedral and church of Santa 
 Croce — Dante and his writings — Milton — The Campanile or bell 
 tower — The Uffizii and its works of art — The Medicean library — 
 Re-establishment of capital punishment — Trial of insurgent re- 
 publicans. 
 
 FLORENCE, DUCHY OF TUSCANY, SECOND LETTER. 
 
 The present letter will be taken up with what has 
 come under my notice, or rather with a part of what 
 has been noticed, at Florence. The city of Florence 
 is the capital of the duchy of Tuscany, situated on 
 both sides of the Arno, which is spanned by four 
 beautiful bridges. Surrounded by the villas which 
 adorn the adjacent plain, with sloping hills and lofty 
 mountains in the distance, it must be conceded that, 
 in the merits of its natural position, at least, Florence 
 justifies the eulogies which have so often been be- 
 stowed upon it. And the beauty of the city itself, 
 
190 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 though it has lost something of its former splendor, 
 corresponds well with the beauty of its situation. 
 
 The Florentines trace their history back to the 
 time of the old Romans. And in support of this 
 view they refeT to the fact, that they are mentioned 
 in the annals of Tacitus as having sent an embassy 
 to Rome in relation to some matters which concerned 
 their city. But their brilliant period, — the period in 
 which they have commanded their full share of the 
 notice and admiration of the world, — commences with 
 the year 1250, when they arose and overthrew the 
 nobles who had tyrannized over them, and established 
 the Florentine Republic. Before this time they were 
 subjects, and were treated as slaves; but, in the ex- 
 pressive language of one of their chronicles, they 
 then constituted themselves a people. 
 
 The Florentines, whatever may have been their 
 origin, are a select and noble race of men. I had no 
 sooner entered their streets than I was struck with 
 their appearance ; — quite different from that of the 
 people of some other cities which I had visited. 
 Their well built forms and expressive countenances, 
 marked by thought and lofty independence, harmo- 
 nized well with the idea, that they were the descend- 
 ants of a race, who have achieved an honorable place 
 in the records of men. Interesting in their political 
 history which shows their love of freedom, they are 
 equally so in their relation to the development of the 
 arts and in their contributions to literature. Works 
 of art, exclusive of public buildings which display 
 the genius of architecture, are found everywhere ; — 
 in their palaces, churches, public squares, and private 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 191 
 
 residences. Peculiar circumstances, which it is the 
 business of the historian to unfold, gave this direc- 
 tion to the great inventive capacity of the people. 
 
 It is the splendid edifices, however, which are like- 
 ly to attract attention on the first entrance into the 
 city. The cities and states of Italy have vied with 
 each other in the erection of public buildings, particu- 
 larly those designed for religious worship ; and, al- 
 though as Protestants we may well question their 
 adaptedness in many cases to the purpose for which 
 they were built, we cannot withhold our admiration 
 from the genius which planned and the persevering 
 energy which completed them. One of the most re- 
 markable of these magnificent buildings is the Cathe- 
 dral of Florence. In accordance with a decree of 
 the city, which was desirous of erecting an edifice 
 superior to any other then existing, the foundations 
 were laid in 1298 ; and genius and skill, and labor 
 and wealth contributed » to complete it. It is four 
 hundred and fifty four feet in length, with a transept 
 of three hundred and thirty feet ; and its height from 
 the pavement to the summit of the cross by which it 
 is surmounted, is about three hundred and eighty 
 seven feet. The walls on the outside are cased with 
 marble. The dome is said to be the largest in the 
 world ; and served as a model to Michael Angelo in 
 building that of St. Peter's. 
 
 This great building, commenced at the time I have 
 mentioned, was not entirely completed till the year 
 1446. Its interior is adorned with statues, bas-reliefs, 
 busts, frescoes, and sepulchral monuments ; some of 
 them in the judgment of artists, works of great merit ; 
 
192 LETTERS— ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 but the pleasure of seeing them is somewhat dimin- 
 ished in consequence of their being so dimly revealed 
 to the visitor by the feeble rays of light which fall 
 through the small stained windows. Among the mon- 
 uments in this cathedral is that of Brunelleschi, the 
 great architect who built its dome ; and who was buri- 
 ed here at the expense of the republic. 
 
 There is also a fine statue of Brunelleschi on the 
 south side of the square of the cathedral ; and near it 
 the stranger is pointed to the spot, designated by an 
 inscription, where Dante used to sit and occupy his 
 imaginative mind in contemplating this vast edifice. 
 
 Among the numerous other churches which adorn 
 the city of Florence, there is much to interest one in 
 the old Franciscan church of Santa Croce. It was in 
 the square of this church that the people assembled 
 and took their decisive measures in the republican 
 revolt of 1250. But to me this renowned edifice was 
 an object of especial attraction ; because, in common 
 with every traveller who visits Florence, I here look- 
 ed upon the tomb of Michael Angelo. The body, 
 which was once the residence of a mind of eminently 
 great and original power, reposes here. His tomb is 
 ornamented with allegorical figures of the sister arts 
 of architecture, painting and sculpture, in all of which 
 he excelled. The marble bust, which is designed to 
 perpetuate the outlines of the form that is crumbling 
 beneath it, is regarded as a faithful likeness of him. 
 In this church, which is sometimes spoken of as the 
 Westminster Abbey of Florence, Marsuppini was bu- 
 ried, the secretary of the republic at an early period, 
 and one of its eloquent and distinguished men. Here 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 193 
 
 also, are sepulchral monuments to Galileo, Dante and 
 Alfieri. The portrait of Dante was placed here by a 
 decree of the republic in 1465. But the large and 
 splendid monument to him, to which I have just re- 
 ferred, has been recently erected at the public expense. 
 It is evident that Florence cherishes the memory of 
 her great poet ; — great as compared with the poets 
 of any other age or nation, and yet unlike all other 
 poets. A country is nothing without its great names. 
 And there are so many reminiscences of Dante here, 
 that it may not be out of place to say something 
 in relation to him. If no writer can be properly un- 
 derstood and interpreted, separate from his age and 
 country, this is especially the case with this remarka- 
 ble poet. His conceptive power, which enabled him 
 to imagine and to describe with so much exactness, 
 was his own ; bat the subjects, upon which he exer- 
 cised it, belonged to the incidents of his age, people 
 and religion. I never could well understand before, 
 how a writer, no matter how great or how eccentric 
 his genius, could think of going through hell, purga- 
 tory and paradise, with a view to ascertain the local- 
 ity, if I may so express it, of the spirits of the dead, 
 and to announce to the world their respective degrees 
 of reward and punishment, of hope and despair. But 
 these ideas, (I mean ideas which dealt with the un- 
 known facts and incidents of man's disembodied des- 
 tiny,) were the ideas of the age of Dante. If a man 
 died, and did not go straightway to heaven, which 
 was the happy lot of a few saints only, the popular 
 thought of that age, trained and established by its 
 dominant religious ideas, at once assigned him an 
 17 
 
194 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 infernal or purgatorial locality. Books were written, 
 and paintings sketched and executed, upon the basis 
 of this prevalent mode of opinion and feeling. — 
 Michael Angelo himself was not free from this in- 
 fluence. And the interior of the cupola of the great 
 cathedral of Florence, which was the object of his 
 study and admiration, is painted in fresco, with 
 angels and saints in paradise, or with figures represent- 
 ing the sufferings of purgatory and hell. So that the 
 remarkable work of Dante is really nothing more nor 
 less than the poetical conception, — which that great 
 poet alone fully possessed, — of the great religious 
 thought of his age. 
 
 And now that 1 am upon this subject, I may further 
 add that some of the leading traits in the writings of 
 our own Milton, (I refer, however, particularly to the 
 Paradise Lost,) find an explanation, in part, at least, 
 in the- same predominant ideas. He resided for some 
 time in Italy, was perfectly acquainted with Italian 
 literature, and with the religious thought and feeling 
 which prevailed among the people. It has seemed to 
 me, since I have been in Florence and other parts of 
 Italy, that the hell of the Paradise Lost would not 
 have been so clearly defined in his conception and so 
 accurately described, if Milton had not both heard 
 and seen a good deal in relation to it on the banks of 
 the Arno. Particular expressions and allusions also, 
 full of beauty but evidently not of English origin, 
 find their explanation in his residence here. Vallom- 
 brosa and the hill of Fiesoli are both in the neighbor- 
 hood of Florence. And hence, in describing the pros- 
 tration of the rebel angels, he says that they 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 195 
 
 -" lay entranced 
 
 Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks 
 In Vallombrosa." 
 
 And it is thus, with his mind filled not only with 
 Italian scenery but with Italian art and science, that 
 he compares Satan's shield to 
 
 the moon, whose orb 
 
 Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views 
 At evening from the top of Fiesoli." 
 
 The " Tuscan artist" is Galileo, with whom Milton 
 became acquainted while he was in Italy. 
 
 Among other objects which the stranger can hardly 
 fail to observe nd which he is not likely to forget, is 
 the campanile or bell-tower. Unlike that of Pisa, the 
 Campanile of Florence stands erect ; and is also much 
 higher than the Pisan tower, — being two hundred 
 and seventy-five feet in height. It is near the cathe- 
 dral, and may be considered as a species of append- 
 age to it. Its basement story is ornamented with a 
 series of well executed reliefs, designed to represent 
 the progress of civilization ; — commencing with the 
 history of Adam and the early patriarchs, and devel- 
 oping the leading events in human progress down to 
 a late period. Rising in successive stories to its over- 
 towering height, this remarkable structure is seen by 
 a single glance of the eye ; and stops the traveller 
 and commands his admiration at the very doors of 
 the great cathedral, by that power of attraction, 
 which always belongs to simplicity when combined 
 with grandeur. 
 
 The Florentine collection of works of art, which is 
 known as the Royal Gallery, is one of the most valu- 
 
196 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 able in the world. These works are deposited in the 
 upper story of a large and fine building, called the 
 Uffizii, which was originally erected for the accom- 
 modation of the magistrates and tribunals of Flor- 
 ence. In this celebrated gallery nearly all the great 
 masters of art, both of ancient and modern times, 
 are represented. Here among other works, which 
 have commanded the admiration of connoisseurs, is 
 the Faun dancing in marble; the celebrated group of 
 wrestlers, writhing in sculptured strength and emula- 
 tion ; and the statue of the Venus de Medici, of which 
 the world has but one. There were other works 
 which were particularly interesting to me. Hardly 
 anything which I saw impressed me more than the 
 busts of the Roman emperors ; authenticated as w T orks 
 of the date which is ascribed to them, not only by 
 the circumstances of their discovery, but by their re- 
 markable correspondence to those conceptions of the 
 persons represented, which an acquaintance with the 
 past is most likely to suggest. They are a sort of 
 resurrection of history. I looked again and again 
 upon the furrowed but stern brow of Julius Caesar ; 
 with anxiety, ambition and intrepidity written in un- 
 changeable lines. Here, also, living in the perpetuity 
 of art, is the calm and intellectual look of Augustus. 
 Esteeming its homage to the truth above everything 
 else, the chisel of the sculptor has harmonized with 
 the pen of the annalist in its Otho and Vitellius ; 
 and the very marble speaks in verification of our 
 ideas of Trajan whom history has praised for his 
 wisdom, and of Nerva, who was styled the good. 
 I have no time in a single letter to say anything o£ 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 197 
 
 the splendid paintings, which are to be found here 
 and also in the Pallazzo Pitti ; nor of the treasures, 
 invaluable to literature, which exist in the Medicean 
 library. This library, rich in works in the oriental 
 languages as well as in Greek and Latin, contains 
 more than nine thousand manuscripts. The oldest 
 manuscript of the Pandects is deposited here ; and I 
 was shown what was said to be (and I believe the 
 claim to its great antiquity is not disputed) the earli- 
 est manuscript of Virgil. The manuscript contains 
 all the works of Virgil, excepting a small portion of 
 the Bucolics. 
 
 This is only the beginning of what might be said, 
 and of what came under my personal notice in Flor- 
 ence and its vicinity. Of course a mere letter writer 
 cannot say much ; especially when travelling rapidly 
 and in poor health. But I cannot close without refer- 
 ring briefly to its present religious and political con- 
 dition. It is hardly necessary to say that in Tuscany, 
 as in other parts of Italy, the Catholic religion is the 
 religion of the State and of the people. Other forms 
 of religion are tolerated for foreign residents and for 
 those who have inherited, if I may so express it, and 
 have been brought up in a different religion. The 
 Episcopal church of England has its place of wor- 
 ship ; — the Presbyterians also, in which religious ser- 
 vice is performed in the French language in the fore- 
 noon and in the English in the afternoon. It was our 
 privilege to worship on the Sabbath in this church, in 
 company with christians from different lands. But if 
 toleration, kept within very strict limits, is allowed to 
 existing forms of belief, it is limited, at least as far as 
 17* 
 
198 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the Catholics are concerned, to what now is. It does 
 not admit of free inquiry nor of a change of religions. 
 The Catholic who dares to inquire and think on the 
 subject of religion, with a view to estimate his own 
 form of religion as compared with that of others, is a 
 marked and persecuted man. If he is led to change 
 his religion, no matter with how great sincerity, the 
 least he can expect is a long and severe imprisonment. 
 
 For nearly a century capital punishment has been 
 abolished in Tuscany. It has very recently been re- 
 established ; so that Florence, which has its works of 
 art, has also is guillotine. I was informed on authori- 
 ty upon which I could rely, that no reason could be 
 assigned for this unexpected measure, except what 
 was found in the political state of the country. The 
 object is, beyond all question, to strike terror into the 
 hearts of the republicans, who are feared, and hated, 
 and persecuted, with the exception of the constitu- 
 tional monarchy of Sardinia, by all the ruling authori- 
 ties in Italy. I shall endeavor to refer to this subject 
 more particularly in another letter. But I cannot 
 omit to mention an incident here, which affected my 
 feelings much. 
 
 A few years ago the people of the Roman States 
 and of Tuscany, inspired by a sense of right and 
 by historical recollections, endeavored to recover their 
 ancient liberties. They succeeded in part ; but in 
 consequence of the aid rendered to them by France, 
 Austria, and indirectly by Russia, the rulers, whom they 
 dispossessed for a time, have recovered their power. 
 The consequence is, that throughout Italy, (always 
 excepting the dominions of the constitutional and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 199 
 
 patriotic king of Sardinia,) the republicans, who ob- 
 viously constitute a large portion of the people, are 
 closely watched by the police ; — many prisons are 
 filled with them ; and very recently a large number, 
 including some patriotic Catholic priests, have been 
 executed. While I have been in Florence, some of 
 these persons, who believe as we do in America, that 
 man ought to have a voice in the government of him- 
 self, and who have dared to act in accordance with 
 their convictions, have been under trial for high trea- 
 son. As soon as I understood this, I lost no time in 
 finding my way to the court of justice. I was not 
 fully informed as to particulars. I can only say, there- 
 fore, that four men, who had been prominent in the 
 republican movement, were undergoing a trial, which 
 in all probability was to have its termination in death, 
 or in perpetual imprisonment. The men were guard- 
 ed by soldiers. The place of trial was full of people ; 
 but the rich and noble were not there. I was pleased 
 to see, that the representatives of the masses were not 
 absent ; — the men of toil, of hunger and rags. Liber- 
 ty has ever found its truest defenders and sympathi- 
 zers among the poor. I looked with deep interest 
 upon their hard hands, their sunburnt countenances, 
 and their eyes sometimes filled with tears and some- 
 times kindling with the flashes of the old Etrurian 
 and Roman fire. 
 
 A few women, some of them young persons and 
 some of them advanced in years, were there also ; — 
 and I supposed from the deep and changeless anxiety 
 which they manifested, that they might be the near 
 relatives, perhaps the mothers and sisters, of the men 
 under trial. 
 
200 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 "With some difficulty I made my way through the 
 dense mass of people, till I stood near the judges and 
 in full view of the prisoners. I understood that these 
 men were not the leaders in the republican movement ; 
 but still were regarded as of sufficient importance to 
 be offered up as the people's sacrifice. One of them, 
 apparently a young man, seemed to be drooping and 
 wasting away under the effects of the long imprison- 
 ment to which they had been subjected. Another, 
 more erect, aud possessed of more physical energy, 
 cast a calm and intelligent look upon the judges and 
 crowded assembly, which seemed to say in its pro- 
 phetic glance, that he feared nothing for liberty nor 
 from the judgment of posterity. The others, with 
 looks rendered intense and fierce by a sense of injus- 
 tice, were like men, who cared for nothing and asked 
 for nothing but their old swords and another field of 
 battle. Not doubting in my own mind, that a great 
 crime against humanity was about to be accomplish- 
 ed, I turned away from this painful scene with the 
 sad reflection, that, in a siuful and fallen world like 
 ours, all that is good and true is established and 
 sanctified by its baptisms of blood. 
 
 (XXIII.) 
 
 Departure from Florence — The ancient Clusium — Arrival at the Papal 
 territories — View of Mount Soracte-Approach to Rome— Remarks 
 on the political state of Europe — Strength of the republican 
 party — The forces arrayed against it — Republican meeting in 
 London — Kossuth and Mazzini — State of things in Rome. 
 
 CITY OF ROME, DEC. 27, 1852. 
 
 We are now in Rome. In coming from Florence 
 to this justly celebrated spot, we took the route of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 201 
 
 Sienna ; — once a large and powerful republican city, 
 and still an object of curiosity and interest to travel- 
 lers. A few miles from Sienna is the town of Chiusi, 
 the site of the ancient Etruscan city of Clusium, 
 which was the residence of Porsena. In passing the 
 volcanic mountain of Radicofani, we left the frontier 
 of Tuscany, and entered the territory of the Papal 
 See. 
 
 Leaving the villages of Ponte Centino and Aqua- 
 pendente, (the latter an interesting place, deriving its 
 name from its waterfalls,) we rode for a considerable 
 distance along the shore of the beautiful lake of Bol- 
 sena, which is supposed to cover a part of the an- 
 cient city Volscinium. It was in this vicinity that 
 we had a distant view for some time of the celebra- 
 ted Mount Soracte, now called St. Oreste. It rose 
 in solemn grandeur from a distant part of the Cam- 
 pagna Romana. The Childe Harold of Byron has 
 described it with the greatest accuracy, as " heaving 
 from the plain, like a long-swept wave about to 
 break, which on the curl hangs pausing." Horace in 
 one of his odes describes it as white with snow ; and 
 the summit was covered with snow at the time we 
 saw it. 
 
 As we approached near Rome, the object of many 
 pleasant anticipations, our hearts were very cheerful ; 
 but our horses unmoved by the inspirations of the 
 place, were either very lazy or very weary, and at the 
 last stopping-place which furnished relays, it was pro- 
 posed by some of the company, to increase our com- 
 fort as well as our motive power, by changing the 
 number which drew our vetturino from four to 
 
202 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 seven. As the proposal was an appeal to the princi- 
 ple of " humanity to animals," as well as of personal 
 comfort, it met with no opposition. Everything was 
 arranged accordingly ; but not without exciting con- 
 siderable movement and notice in the little town from 
 which we started under these more favorable auspices. 
 Everybody seemed to give care to the winds. The 
 sun was bright above us. The postilions cracked 
 their whips ; — the horses, as if conscious of this ac- 
 cession of strength, curved their necks and shook the 
 little bells with which they were ornamented ; — the 
 smitten pavements flashed fire; — the dogs barked; 
 and the very beggars shook their hats with jollity. 
 It was thus, seated in the midst of this unusual loco- 
 motion, that we made our approach for the first time 
 to the classic banks of the Tiber, to the ruined pala- 
 ces of the Caesars, and the memorable battle-fields 
 of Garibaldi. 
 
 But I shall not undertake to describe what I see 
 around me in the present letter. There is another 
 topic to which I wish to advert. I have not as yet 
 said much in relation to the political state of Europe. 
 I have not considered the subject an unimportant 
 one ; but it is difficult at the present time to get at 
 the precise state of things. Availing myself, howev- 
 er, of such means of information as I could com- 
 mand, I have been obliged to come to one conclusion, 
 which, if it be true, is a fundamental one in the esti- 
 mate of political probabilities, namely, that a very 
 considerable proportion of the people of England, 
 France, Italy, Belgium, Poland and Hungary, and 
 perhaps in some of these states a majority, have 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 203 
 
 adopted republican opinions. Nor is this the whole 
 of the republican strength ; — which is to be found 
 also in part in other states and nations. The repub- 
 lican party of Europe, therefore, respectable, at least, 
 both in its numbers and talents, and its courage and 
 physical resources, is a permanent and important ele- 
 ment in European affairs, which it would be useless 
 to attempt to ignore, and which every wise statesman 
 will not only be willing to recognize, but will be de- 
 sirous to conciliate. 
 
 Of the republicans there are two divisions ; one 
 which is desirous of leaving the establishment of the 
 republican policy to time and those methods of pub- 
 lic enlightenment and of gradual political ameliora- 
 tion which time alone can bring. The other party, 
 maddened by hopes long deferred and by oppressions 
 actually realized, carry the swords under their gar- 
 ments, and wait only for the day and the hour when 
 they shall flash in open light on the field of battle. 
 
 Further, I think I can say this. No party will at- 
 tempt to move now upon an irreligious basis ; — 
 that is to say, with a disregard of those sentiments, 
 everywhere implanted in the human mind, which 
 recognize the existence of God, and the duties 
 which are owed to Him. Democracy, taught by the 
 sufferings of her former blindness, has re-assumed her 
 respect for man's religious nature. This is right. — 
 Religion may be perverted ; and its perversions may 
 be tyrannical. But true religion is, by its nature, es- 
 sentially republican. Patriarchs, prophets and apos- 
 tles, and the early martyrs, were men, if I may so 
 express it, who came up from the masses ; — men who 
 
204 LETTERS JSSTHETIC, 
 
 knew the people, men who sympathized with the 
 wants of the people, and who labored and suffered 
 for their good. The Sermon on the Mount is the 
 great proclamation of human liberty; — a proclama- 
 tion, unequalled in its expression, as it is unequalled 
 in the length and breadth of its just and generous 
 sentiments. And I do not hesitate to say, that, in a 
 true estimate of His character and teaching, consid- 
 ered in their relation to the universal establishment 
 of human rights, Jesus Christ, as compared with any 
 other reformer or teacher, ought to be regarded, and 
 spoken of, and loved, as the true democratic leader. 
 
 The great republican leaders of the present time, 
 unlike those of the period of 1790, — the Mazzinis, 
 the Kossuth s, the Cavaignacs, the Girardins and La- 
 martines, understand well, that religion is a necessity 
 of man's nature, that it is the only sure basis of prac- 
 tical morals, and that liberty without religion cannot 
 stand. This is a great gain to the republican cause ; 
 and I think it one of the most favorable omens of its 
 ultimate success. And I do not doubt, that the sym- 
 pathies of a large body of religious and praying men, 
 particularly in England, harmonize now, for the first 
 time, with the republican ideas and position, as they 
 are developed in one or the other of the republican 
 sections to which I have referred. The moral influ- 
 ence of this significant alliance, which has greatly 
 diminished and almost put an end to the cry of re- 
 publican infidelity, is immense. And I think it but 
 justice to say that in the republican enrollment there 
 will be found to be, — contrary to what in America is 
 sometimes supposed to be the fact, — a multitude of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL* 205 
 
 sincere and devout Catholics. So far as I can form 
 an opinion, the republican position has never been so 
 strong in Europe, as it is at this moment. And no 
 temporary disappointment, no sudden and midnight 
 treachery, no defeat in the battle-field, no deferring, 
 even from generation to generation, of long cherished 
 hopes, will be likely to alter this fundamental state 
 of things. 
 
 It might perhaps be inferred from this statement, 
 that it is the object of the republican party, without 
 making the proper and just discriminations, to over- 
 throw the existing governments in Europe. But it 
 would be better and nearer the truth to say, that 
 their object, in any proper sense of the terms, is not 
 to overthrow, or to injure governments, but to estab- 
 lish the great and inalienable rights of humanity, — 
 such as freedom of religious belief, freedom of polit- 
 ical opinion and of the press, just laws and equality 
 under the law, and especially the recognized and un- 
 changeable representation of the people in all mat- 
 ters where the people are concerned. This they 
 claim. For this they are organized. And this, if I 
 am not mistaken in what has come under my notice, 
 they are determined to accomplish. Any govern- 
 ment that will so modify itself as to admit and es- 
 tablish what this great party regard as the rights of 
 humanity, no matter whether it bears the name of a 
 republic or a constitutional monarchy, will continue 
 to stand and will be increasingly prosperous/ And 
 any governments which refuse this must take their 
 chance of life or death in the great contest of opin- 
 ions and of material forces, which threatens soon to 
 overtake them. 
 18 
 
206 
 
 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 The wisdom of England, enlightened by her great 
 and patriotic history, is steadily adjusting the ship of 
 State to this new and fixed position of things ; and 
 thus there is reason to think, that the flag, which has 
 waved a thousand years, will yet triumph' in any 
 coming storms. Belgium and Sardinia, and I sup- 
 pose it may be the same in a few other states, are 
 taking the same course. So far is there from being 
 any general hostility on the part of the republicans 
 to these patriotic kingdoms, whose hospitality many 
 of them have experienced in their sad exile from 
 nearly every part of Europe, that they name them 
 with pride and grateful affection, and quote them ev- 
 erywhere as examples of actual and progressive liber- 
 ty, — broad enough now, and capable of expansion 
 enough hereafter, to accept and conciliate the conflict 
 of opinions, and to satisfy the reasonable demands of 
 humanity. 
 
 I would say further, that the republican party is 
 not a party, which is circumscribed in its views by 
 geographical limits. Its objects pertain to humanity. 
 Its bond of union is the tie of human rights and affec- 
 tions. Its locality, therefore, is the world. It has those 
 among it, as I have already intimated, who every- 
 where advocate its cause by the appeals of reason 
 and love ; men who do not cease to be men of peace 
 because they are republicans, and whose declaration 
 of independence is the " Sermon on the Mount," — ta- 
 ken in its more literal and obvious import. This por- 
 tion of the party, which embraces some names of 
 great power and influence, is averse to war ; — though 
 it is not on that account less true to its political 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 207 
 
 principles, and is ready to sustain them by its testi- 
 mony in prisons and on the scaffold. But the party 
 has among its ranks also a still greater number, who, 
 if reason and appeals to a kindred humanity shall 
 fail to have a hearing, will unsheath the sword in the 
 desperation of violated rights, and will either con- 
 quer or be destroyed. 
 
 But there is another side to this state of things. 
 Face to face, in antagonism to this great and uncom- 
 promising party, who stand erect with their bosoms 
 bare, ready to accept the charter of freedom or the 
 baptism of blood, there are arrayed at the present 
 moment the great empires and kingdoms of Russia, 
 Austria, Prussia and France, aided by Tuscany and 
 Naples, and I know not how many smaller states, 
 with a standing army of two millions of bayonets, 
 and with cannon planted and with matches blazing 
 from Paris to Moscow. It is thus beyond all ques- 
 tion that the two great parties, with such modifica- 
 tions of thought and feeling as have been referred 
 to, have taken their stand in fierce and fearful oppo- 
 sition ; mutual in their defiance and mutual in their 
 hatred ; and each party apparently waiting for the 
 signal of that mysterious Providence which rules the 
 destiny of nations, and which destroys those, who, in 
 refusing to be just, refuse to harmonize. 
 
 Whether the two political parties, which are thus 
 arrayed in opposition to each other, will come into 
 actual conflict, is a thing which lies hidden in the 
 future. It would be useless to conjecture. But this 
 does not vitiate the correctness of the statements which 
 have been made ; nor alter the actual and imminent 
 
208 LETTERS JBSTHETIC, 
 
 state of things which exists. Let us hope, that sound 
 reason will prevail ; and that those who hold power 
 against right, whoever and wherever they may be, if 
 they fail to be moved by the sentiments of justice, 
 will at least consult their own interests, by harmoni- 
 zing with the claims of liberty. 
 
 I cannot close this letter without mentioning one 
 or two incidents, which have a little connection with 
 it. I was in France at the time of the re-establish- 
 ment of the usurped empire. Being in a certain 
 town, a French gentleman invited me to the munici- 
 pal hall. He led me to a corner of the large room 
 where the town authorities were in the habit of as- 
 sembling, and taking the republican flag on which 
 were inscribed the large letters, "Liberty, Equality, 
 Fraternity," he unrolled it and gazed upon it with 
 deep emotion. Then rolling it up, he returned it to 
 its place ; but not without giving me to understand, 
 that the hands which had unfurled it once, but from 
 whom it had been deceitfully wrested, would unfurl 
 it again. 
 
 In many other instances I found the same feelings 
 expressed. At a certain time, stopping with my 
 friends at an obscure village in Italy, the inn-keeper, 
 whose manners and whose open and intelligent brow 
 indicated that he was not formed to be a slave, 
 asked Mr. Thompson, if he knew anything of the 
 Italian exiles of America. And when he understood 
 that he had seen Forbes, and Avizenna, and Garibal- 
 di, and especially when he understood that we had 
 both seen Mazzini in London, and that the great re- 
 publican leader had lost neither heart nor hope for 
 
SOCri\L, AND MORAL. 209 
 
 Italy, he was filled with wild delight. In a few mo- 
 ments the news was communicated to a considera- 
 ble number of poor people around ; and it was inter- 
 esting to see how they gathered around our carriage 
 as we departed, and lifted their hats in recognition 
 of republican affinity, and earnestly gazed upon us 
 with tears starting to their eyes, as if we had brought 
 them news of a son or a brother, " who was dead and 
 is alive again ; who was lost and is found." And 
 thus, in no small number of instances in France and 
 Italy, we were able to ascertain the feelings of the 
 people. 
 
 In London we attended the meeting of the Italian 
 and other republican exiles. The room was capable 
 of holding more than a thousand persons, and was 
 full. And I cannot forget that this meeting, without 
 spies to report or bayonets to control it, was held 
 within the realms of Queen Victoria, who fears noth- 
 ing from the republican sentiment, because the free 
 constitution of government which she administers, 
 recognizes the just right which supports it, and pro- 
 vides, in one of its great departments, for its full and 
 powerful manifestation. I never attended a meeting 
 which evinced more settled principle, more fixed de- 
 termination, more deep enthusiasm. Kossuth and 
 Mazzini were there. And when they arose, embody- 
 ing as they did in their own persons the hopes of na- 
 tions, they seemed to me, as I associated them with 
 the past and the future, like the strong but tempest- 
 beaten landmarks of passing generations. They took 
 each other by the hand, and in the presence of this 
 large assembly mutually pledged whatever yet remain- 
 18* 
 
210 LETTERS-^-JESTHEtldj 
 
 ed of life, fortune, and hope ; and added in the name 
 of those who knew them and loved them, the still 
 higher pledge of the blood of Hungary to Italy and 
 the blood of Italy to Hungary. 
 
 On this occasion, and at the close of the meeting, I 
 had the pleasure, in company with many others, of 
 taking Kossuth by the hand, whom I had before seen 
 in America ; — the man invincible, not merely because 
 of his vast powers of intellect and his generous and 
 universal heart, but especially because he is a child of 
 Providence, and is what he believes himself to be, an 
 instrument of God in the destiny of nations. I went 
 also a few days after, in company with Mr. Thomp- 
 son, and spent an evening in the humble and secreted 
 room of Mazzini, — that great man, and true patriot 
 and exile. We conversed with him ; and it was from 
 him that I gained- some of the opinions and impres- 
 sions which I have expressed. I saw in him, as I 
 thought, the sincerity of conviction, the modesty of 
 strength, a high trust in Providence, and the invinci- 
 ble will. It was nearly at the same time, and in the 
 city of Paris, that I saw Louis Napoleon at the Tuil- 
 leries. And I am obliged to say, that I felt a far deep- 
 er respect for the man who adhered to his principles 
 and held the idea of a republic in poverty, suffering 
 and exile, than for the man who betrayed the people 
 that trusted him, and rewarded himself with an empire. 
 
 Mazzini told us, that blood was flowing in Italy, — 
 the blood of those who were dear to him. We soon 
 afterwards had more specific confirmations of his re- 
 marks on the trying state of things in that country. 
 
 Before we left Sardinia, we learned, from a private 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 211 
 
 but authentic source, the appalling news of the whole- 
 sale massacres, — for such I think they may justly be 
 termed, — of suspected republicans in Austrian Lom- 
 bardy. And since I have been in Rome I have been 
 informed on authority which I could not well doubt, 
 ^hat four thousand young men, republican citizens of 
 Rome, are entered on the lists of the police as suspect- 
 ed persons, — that they are constantly watched, — and 
 are not allowed to be in the streets after certain hours 
 of the day. And it is no small thing, that Rome it- 
 self, the land of the most celebrated names of free- 
 dom, is at this moment held in subjection, on account 
 of its republican tendencies, by the bayonets of a for- 
 eign despotism. 
 
 It is thus that liberty in the persons 'of those who 
 love and cherish her, is everywhere proscribed. The 
 heart mourns ; but convictions are unaltered. The 
 cause of freedom like that of religion, has life in it- 
 self; and grows stronger and brighter in its trials. 
 
 The nations, with ambitious mind 
 On wealth and warlike glories bent, 
 
 In strength alone had sought to find 
 A true and lasting monument. 
 
 Alas, their early history's page 
 
 Foreshows the downfall of their age. 
 
 The grandeur, rais'd by force or crime, 
 
 In towers and walls and heaven-built spires, 
 
 Is like the mountain height sublime 
 That stands upon volcanic fires. 
 
 Above, 'tis seeming strength. Below 
 
 An ocean's fiery billows glow. 
 
212 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 But that which sinks, at last shall rise, 
 Strong in the strength which cannot die. 
 
 The flames of that great sacrifice 
 Have only power to purify. 
 
 The form may die ; — the life remains ; — 
 
 Humanity survives and reigns. 
 
 (XXIV.) 
 
 First views and impressions of Rome — Porta del Popolo — Egyptian 
 obelisk — Visit to the Capitoline hill — Statue of Marcus Aurelius — 
 View from the tower of the Capitol — The seven hills of Rome — 
 The Coliseum — Arch of Titus — Remarks. 
 
 ROME, DEC. 28, 1852. 
 
 With the improved facilities of motion which were 
 mentioned in the beginning of my last letter, we ap- 
 proached Rome by the old Cassian way. The last 
 place of much importance on our route was the town 
 of Viterbo ; the supposed site of the ancient " Fanum 
 Voltumnae," where the associated Etruscan States 
 held their general assemblies. Passing the eleva- 
 tions of no great height, which mark on that side the 
 boundaries of the Campagna Romana, we descended 
 into the plain of the Tyber, which flowed on, about 
 four hundred feet in breadth, with a full and strong 
 current ; — not clear and sparkling like the Rhone, 
 but with that dark and muddy appearance which I 
 had noticed in the Soane and the Arno. At the dis- 
 tance of two miles from the city we crossed this cel- 
 ebrated river at the old Milvian bridge ; the place 
 where the envoys of the Allobrogi were intercepted 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 213 
 
 in the time of Cicero ; their letters taken ; — and Cat- 
 aline's conspiracy discovered. At this bridge, among 
 other places which witnessed their patriotic resist- 
 ance, the modern Romans opposed the recent en- 
 trance of the French with no small share of the cour- 
 age of their ancestors. Passing down on the north 
 side of the river, we came into the city by the 
 " Porta del Popolo," the Gate of the People. 
 
 One of the first things which arrested my atten- 
 tion, as we passed through the People's Gate, and 
 into the great square into which it opens, was an 
 Egyptian obelisk of red granite, towering to a great 
 height and covered with hieroglyphics. This obelisk, 
 which was first erected by Remeses, the Egyptian 
 king who is known in Grecian writers under the 
 name of Sesostris, stood originally in the city of He- 
 liopolis in lower Egypt ; and was brought to Rome 
 by Augustus Caesar after the battle of Actium. The 
 sight of this striking object, the memorial of other 
 ages and distant climes, vividly recalled to my mind 
 that I had entered a city, which more than any other 
 had extended its influence either by arts or arms ; — 
 the conqueror and the mother of nations ; the mighty 
 emblem of the rise and fall of greatness ; — the cen- 
 tral point of profane history ; from which, as if stand- 
 ing on the dividing line of ages, the mind books back 
 to the beginning and forward to the end. 
 
 At the earliest opportunity I visited the Capitoline 
 Hill ; not only because it stood first and clearest in 
 my historical associations ; but because I had hoped 
 by ascending it to gain at once a full view of the city, 
 and in this way adjust and localize my remembrances. 
 
214 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 At the base of the steps which ascend this still im- 
 posing eminence, are two Egyptian lions of bronze 
 granite. At their top are marble statues of Castor 
 and Pollux with their horses ; and in a central posi- 
 tion, in the open place or square of the summit, called 
 by the Italians the Campodoglio, is a bronze eques- 
 trian statue of Marcus Aurelius ; elevated on a large 
 pedestal composed of a single marble block. This is 
 the only bronze equestrian statue, which has come 
 down to us from the times of ancient Rome. But 
 this is not the only nor the chief circumstance, which 
 imparts to it an interest and value. I came unexpect- 
 edly in view of this remarkable statue, and stopped 
 to look at it. It seized hold of my conceptions with 
 a power, which seemed to me a test of its excellence. 
 Again and again I turned to examine it. The noble 
 form of Aurelius is seated firmly erect. His counte- 
 nance is imperial. His right hand is proudly extend- 
 ed, as if indicating the movement and destiny of na- 
 tions. The horse, on which he is seated, seems to 
 know that he bears an emperor. His form is the em- 
 bodiment of energetic strength. His neck curves in 
 the direction of his master's hand; and his large eye 
 appears to glow, as it catches the meaning of its con- 
 trolling power. Lifting his right hoof, he throws it 
 firmly forward with a movement corresponding to the 
 curvature of the neck and the stern direction of the 
 hand of the emperor ; and his broad and muscular 
 breast swells with the impulse of his own fiery action. 
 It is thus that I recall it to mind, as I am seated to 
 write ; — a form true to nature ; — the action giving life 
 to the form ; and the life enlarged and glowing with 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 215 
 
 greatness and fiery impulse. Such are the works of 
 art which are everywhere found in Rome and in Ro- 
 man territory ; so that if it be true, that she is dead 
 in the form of her ancient nationality, it is equally 
 so that she lives, and will continue to live, in the per- 
 petuity of her genius. 
 
 At the northern extremity of the Capitoline Hill, is 
 the Franciscan church of Santa Maria d' Ara Coeli. 
 As I looked upon this church, I called to mind a pas- 
 sage in the writings of Gibbon, which in early life 
 had left a deep impression on me. It was here, as he 
 himself tells us in his auto-biography, " On the 14th 
 of October, 1764, as he sat musing amid the ruins of 
 the Capitol, while the bare-footed friars were singing 
 vespers," that the idea of writing the Decline and Fall 
 of Rome first occurred to his mind. 
 
 Leaving the area of the Campodoglio, and I know 
 not how many works of art within and around it, I 
 ascended the tower of the modern Capitol. Below 
 me, including the Capitoline, were the seven hills of 
 ancient Rome, so often mentioned by historians ; 
 the Palatine, Once inhabited by Romulus and Numa, 
 and in the later periods of the republic the residence 
 of Quin tus Hortensius and Cicero, now strewed 
 with the fragments of the .Csesar's palaces ; — at a lit- 
 tle distance and reaching to the Tyber, the Aventine, 
 which in other days had been surmounted by the 
 temples of Diana and Minerva and a palace of Tra- 
 jan, but now more destitute of edifices of every kind 
 than any other of the seven hills ; — in another direc- 
 tion the Celian, the place of residence assigned to 
 the ancient Albans, after the destruction of their 
 
216 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 principal city, — its extreme limit marked at the pres- 
 ent time by the church of St. John Lateran ; — the 
 Esqutline, situated to the north of the Celian, and 
 extending with its gardens and its remains of ancient 
 buildings to the city walls ; — the Quirinal, a long, 
 narrow eminence, commencing at the Forum of Tra- 
 jan, covered with buildings comparatively modern, and 
 extending back of the Colonna Palace in a northeast 
 direction ; — and the Viminal, between the Quirinal 
 and Esquiline. These hills, of moderate height and 
 extent, rising perhaps an hundred and fifty feet above 
 the level of the sea, did not look to me like the hills 
 which I had seen in America ; but there is a great- 
 ness besides that which is physical, and history had 
 magnified them; so that they filled a much larger 
 space in my mind. Beautiful above was the clear 
 Italian sky. In the valley below, skirting the Palatine 
 and Aventine hills, was the winding Tyber. Moving 
 among the memorials of decay and dissolution, it 
 seemed to have no death and no decay in itself; but 
 still kept its triumphant march, as in the days of 
 Romulus and Camillus, from its native mountains to 
 the sea. Beyond the Tyber was Mount Janiculum. 
 In the opposite direction was the mighty Coliseum. 
 In the distance was the long line of the Appenines. 
 Directly beneath me, in one direction was the steep 
 Tarpeian rock ; and in the other the old Roman Fo- 
 rum. Such were the various objects of interest around 
 and before me. Having looked upon them for a short 
 time, I came down from the Capitol. 
 
 I have mentioned the Coliseum, as one of the ob- 
 jects seen from the tower of the Capitoline hill, — that 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 217 
 
 great ruin of Rome and the world ; and I am remind- 
 ed now of my first visit to it. It was the evening of 
 the day of our arrival in Rome. The sky was cloud- 
 less. The moon shone brightly. That night, in com- 
 pany with the excellent friends who had accompanied 
 me thus far, I went to visit this mighty ruin. The 
 Coliseum, taking its name as some have conjectured 
 from its great size, is an amphitheatre ; elliptical in 
 its shape, six hundred and twenty feet in one direc- 
 tion, measuring from the exterior surface of the wall, 
 and five hundred and thirteen feet in the other. The 
 height of the wall is one hundred and fifty-seven feet. 
 This immense edifice was commenced by the empe- 
 ror Vespasian and finished by his son Titus, ten years 
 after his return to Rome from the destruction of Jeru- 
 salem. Capable of holding originally eighty-seven 
 thousand persons, and built with all the strength 
 which architectural genius and profuse expenditure 
 could impart to it, it is now a great mass of ruins. — 
 We walked through the broken arches of this mighty 
 desolation. The moon threw its light full upon the 
 open arena; tinging the dewy grass and the clinging 
 ivy which grew in the fissures of the walls. I remem- 
 bered Byron's admirable description. 
 
 " I do remember me, that in my youth, 
 When I was wandering, upon such a night 
 I stood within the Coliseum's wall." 
 
 I subsequently visited it in the day time. My 
 mind had never been more deeply impressed by the 
 greatness of man's works or the magnitude of their 
 desolation ; but the impression was subdued and ob- 
 literated by the recollection, that this very spot had 
 19 
 
218 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 been the scene of one of the great contests of Chris- 
 tianity. Within these vast walls the Roman people, 
 in the days of imperial enslavement and corruption, 
 assembled to witness the contests of wild beasts and 
 the dying struggles of gladiators. But this was not 
 all. They looked with almost equal pleasure upon 
 the shedding of innocent blood. A cross stands in 
 the centre of the open space. As I fixed my eyes 
 upon this significant emblem, I saw in my imagina- 
 tion the dying Christian. It was there he knelt. 
 Perhaps upon the very spot where I stood, a mother 
 or a sister looked down upon him, and prayed that 
 his faith might not fail. He lifted his eyes to heav- 
 en. His body was torn by the wild beasts. His 
 blood mingled with the sand of the arena. Perhaps 
 it was Ignatius or Justin, names memorable in Chris- 
 tian history ; perhaps some humble believer, unknown 
 to the world, but dear to the Saviour. It was thus, 
 in those days of fiery trial, that the old and young, 
 the learned and the ignorant, the father, the mother 
 and the children, perished. But Christianity still 
 lives. When true to her principles of love, forgive- 
 ness, and willingness to suffer, she always conquers ; 
 and no defeat and no dishonor is recorded of her, ex- 
 cept when, forgetful of the principles and example of 
 her Master, she returns violence with violence. 
 
 There were but few objects in Rome, on which I 
 looked with more interest than the old imperial arch- 
 es ; a number of which still remain. A triumphal 
 arch, constructed in the manner of those at Rome, is 
 susceptible in a very high degree of those architectu- 
 ral combinations, which cause emotions both of beau- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 219 
 
 ty and grandeur. The eye embraces them in their 
 general form at once, so that the emotion is not 
 broken and diminished by that distraction of the 
 attention which is caused, when the mind contem- 
 plates an object which is much multiplied in its parts. 
 At the same time they are susceptible of minor deco- 
 rations, which harmonize with the general outline. 
 Erected in honor of distinguished names and memo- 
 rable achievements, the principle of association also 
 adds to the effect on the mind, which the architecture 
 itself is fitted to inspire. The arch of the emperor 
 Claudius, as appears from the fragments which yet 
 remain of it, was erected in commemoration of his 
 conquest of the island of Britain. The arch of Con- 
 stantine, a truly magnificent structure, notwithstand- 
 ing the injuries of time, and the loss of the triumphal 
 car and the bronze horses which once adorned it, was 
 erected in honor of the victory of that emperor over 
 Maxentius. It has three archways, with eight col- 
 umns of the Corinthian order, four on each front, and 
 is ornamented with bas-reliefs. The arch of Septi- 
 mius Severus, the model of the beatitiful arch erected 
 by Napoleon in Paris in the Place du Carrousel, which 
 I mentioned in a former letter, commemorates the con- 
 quest of Parthia and Persia by Septimius and his sons. 
 The arch of Septimius is in the northwest corner of 
 the old Roman Forum. At no great distance in the 
 direction of the Palatine hill is the celebrated arch of 
 Titus ; not so large and imposing as that of Constan- 
 tine, but not less beautiful. It was erected by order 
 of the Roman Senate in honor of Titus, and particu- 
 larly in commemoration of his conquest of the city of 
 
220 LETTERS .ESTHF.TIC, 
 
 Jerusalem. What affecting associations gather in the 
 mind of the Christian as he views such a monument ! 
 In passing under the arch the attention is arrested by 
 the bas-reliefs on the piers, which are still beautiful, 
 though much injured. One of them represents Titus 
 seated in his triumphal car, surrounded by Romans 
 carrying the fasces, and drawn by four horses. But I 
 looked with a different and much deeper emotion on 
 the bas-relief on the other side, which represents the 
 early emblems of our religion, taken from their sacred 
 place, and carried in triumphal procession ; — the gold- 
 en table, the silver trumpets, and the candlestick of 
 gold with its seven branches, and other spoils taken 
 from the great temple of the Jews. Captive Jews, 
 sad exiles from their native land, make a part of the 
 procession. This bas-relief is regarded by biblical 
 archaeologists as furnishing one of the most reliable 
 and authentic representations of these sacred objects; 
 harmonizing as they do with the accounts given both 
 in the Bible and in Josephus. 
 
 The vessels of the Temple were taken away ; but 
 the Temple itself, the work of forty years, and unex- 
 ampled in splendor, was levelled with the ground. 
 The Temple of Jerusalem, with what was contained 
 in it, represented, in the form of a great material em- 
 blem, those conceptions of the Deity and of the 
 methods of approach to Him, which were suited to 
 the capacities of the human mind in that period of 
 the world. When the time came in which it seemed 
 proper, that the mind of man should be liberated 
 from these limitations and raised to a higher and 
 juster mode of thought, the ploughshare of destruc- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 221 
 
 tion passed over it, and left no stone upon another. 
 
 The mysteries of Providence are unsearchable. 
 
 They work out the problems of truth and freedom by 
 destruction as well as by creation. Nations fall ; 
 monuments, temples, cities, perish ; but principles 
 and truths remain. And who knows, that the vast 
 edifices of worship, which have since been erected in 
 many places with more than Jewish architectural 
 skill, and with but little short of Jewish splendor, 
 tending as they do with the aids of statuary and 
 painting to give a doubtful form to the unseen and 
 unknown mysteries of eternity, and even to embody 
 and localize God himself, may not be destined, in the 
 convulsions of betrayed and struggling humanity, 
 striking at the same moment for civil and religious 
 liberty, to a like sudden and terrible destruction ; so 
 that men, knowing God in his simplicity, shall under- 
 stand at last the meaning of the Saviour's words, 
 when he said, " Ye shall neither in this mountain nor 
 yet at Jerusalem worship the Father ; but the hour 
 cometh and now is, when the true worshippers shall 
 worship the Father in spirit and in truth." 
 
 Such was the thought that occurred to my mind, 
 when viewing the monument, erected nearly two thou- 
 sand years ago, in memory of a man, whom God had 
 mysteriously employed as His instrument in one of 
 the most remarkable and terrible events in the history 
 of the human race. It was a thought rather than an 
 opinion. What is to be hereafter will be known 
 when the mysteries of the future develop it. The 
 calculations of human thought and philosophy are 
 often baffled by the decisions of Providence, 
 19* 
 
222 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 One thing, however, is certain. The forms of re- 
 ligion may vary. The exigencies of different periods 
 may demand different methods of manifestation. — 
 What was once revered as an assistance by aiding 
 the heart through the outward sight, may require to 
 be removed as an obstruction, because the heart has 
 begun to see more clearly with the inward vision. — 
 But religion itself, in its essence, is always the same. 
 Its office is to deal with spirit. " The kingdom of 
 God is within you." In the day of his fiery coming 
 and universal baptism, the Holy Ghost will not be 
 bound. He will work not only in Jerusalem, in Rome, 
 in London, but in Waldensian mountains and in 
 American wildernesses. Mind and not marble will 
 be his material. Working with the skill of the God- 
 head, which chisels thought and moulds affections, 
 and adjusts the flowing outlines of freedom to the 
 stability of Providence, he will sculpture the soul 
 itself ; and create immortal beauty from an immortal 
 element. 
 
 (XXV.) 
 
 Departure from Rome — The Alban mount — Lines to the morning star 
 — The Appian way — Principal towns — The Pontine marshes — 
 Monument to Cicero — Arrival at Naples — Visit to Herculaneum 
 and Pompeii. 
 
 NAPLES, JAN. 2, 1853. 
 
 Sweet morning star, with golden ray, 
 How clear thy gentle splendors shine, 
 
 To usher in the early day 
 
 Along the Tyber's winding way, 
 And o'er the Appenine. 
 
SOCiAU AND MORAL. 223 
 
 Oh, thus, with smile as clear and bright, 
 In other lands I've known thy beam, 
 
 The lingering day delayed its light, 
 
 But thou didst crown the distant height, 
 That watched my native stream. 
 
 I met thee there, I meet thee here ; 
 
 I loved thee then ; I love thee yet ; 
 And not the less, that thy bright sphere 
 Recalls the home, to friendship dear, 
 
 Which love cannot forget. 
 
 Oh no ! And if it fits thy ray 
 
 The messages of love to bear, 
 Haste to that distant home and say, 
 That love may wander far away, 
 
 And yet be always there. 
 
 Very early in the morning of the day after we left 
 Rome, we passed down the side of the Alban Mount, 
 where the ancient town of Alba Longa was situated, 
 which was much older than Rome, and was destroy- 
 ed by Tullus Hostilius. This beautiful eminence, 
 gradual in its ascent and susceptible of being built 
 upon and cultivated to its summit, answered precisely 
 the idea of it, which the descriptions of the Latin 
 poets and historians had left upon my mind in early 
 life. As I was observing, at the breaking of the day, 
 the beautiful scenery which opened to my view, my 
 eye caught the morning star shining with peculiar 
 richness in the clear blue above the Appenines, not 
 far distant. I had often watched its morning bright- 
 ness from the hills of my own land ; it reminded me 
 so strongly of home, that I committed to its swift 
 and beautiful rays the little message of the heart, 
 with which I have begun this letter, and which I trust 
 will reach its destination in safety. 
 
224 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Our route from Rome to Naples was for the most 
 part along the old Appian way, built by the Censor 
 Appius Claudius, three hundred years before the time 
 of Christ, and called by Cicero with a good deal of 
 propriety, " regina viarum." We entered on this 
 road at Albano on the Alban mount, and left it at 
 the river Garagliano, the ancient Siris. The princi- 
 pal places through which we passed were the city of 
 Velletri, once the capital of the Volsci, but which 
 has ceased to retain the splendor which formerly be- 
 longed to it ; — Cisterna, the location according to an- 
 tiquarians of the Tres Tabernae or Three Taverns, 
 where the Christians of Rome are mentioned in the 
 Acts of the Apostles as having met the Apostle Paul; 
 — the city of Terracina, originally one of the towns 
 of the Volsci, known in the time of Horace by the 
 name of Anxur, and which is described by him in his 
 journey to Brundusium; — the town of Fondi, which 
 has some interest for the admirers of scholastic inge- 
 nuity as being the residence of Thomas Aquinas and 
 the place where he gave his instructions in theology ; 
 — the town of Itri, without any special historical in- 
 terest, but encircled with hills which were covered 
 with vines, fig trees and orange trees ; — the town of 
 Mola di Gaeta, from which we had a view of the 
 beautiful city of Gaeta, situated upon the Mediter- 
 ranean, — the same with the ancient Cajeta, which 
 Virgil has celebrated in the seventh book of the 
 JEneid ; and the city of Capua upon the river Vol- 
 turno, the ancient Vulturnus, near which Hannibal 
 defeated the Romans. 
 
 Between Cisterna and Fondi are the Pontine 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 225 
 
 marshes, twenty-four miles in length; — once stagnant 
 and unhealthy, but now drained and restored to fer- 
 tility by canals. Large herds of cattle were feeding 
 on them. At the western extremity of these marsh-. 
 es, stretching out into the sea, is the rocky and lofty 
 residence of the ancient sorceress Circe, known at the 
 present time by the name of Monte Circello, which 
 the Homeric traditions have celebrated as the place, 
 where the companions of Ulysses were detained and 
 made the subjects of her enchantments. On the por- 
 tion of the Appian way which passes through the 
 Pontine marshes was the old Roman town of Appii 
 Forum, which seems to have been a considerable 
 place in the time of Pliny. The prevalent opinion 
 locates it at the place in the marshes which is now 
 called Casarillo, about fifty-six miles from Rome. — 
 " When the brethren heard of us," says the account in 
 Acts, " they came to meet us as far as Appii Forum, 
 and the Three Taverns." 
 
 Near one of the towns which I have mentioned, 
 Mola di Gaeta, the great orator of Rome had a coun- 
 try villa, to which he often retired for study and re- 
 creation. It was here that he had his meetings and 
 conversations with Laelius and Scipio. When his 
 inveterate enemy Mark Antony came into power, and 
 the name of Cicero, a name equally near to elo- 
 quence, philosophy and liberty, was placed on the list 
 of those who were proscribed, he fled to his retired 
 residence and had nearly reached it, when he was 
 overtaken and put to death by his pursuers. It was 
 with melancholy interest that we looked upon the 
 lofty tower, still standing on the right hand of the 
 
226 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 road as it approaches Moli di Gaeta, which the affec- 
 tion of his freed-men erected to his memory on the 
 spot where he was slain. 
 
 The road through the Pontine marshes is wide and 
 level, and in many places planted with trees. Rich 
 and various were the beauties of nature, appealing 
 everywhere to man's heart and reading lessons on 
 the goodness of Providence, as we passed onward to 
 other places more diversified in their character. On 
 one side were level and verdant plains, and distant 
 glimpses of the sea ; and on the other hills and moun- 
 tains ; — and everywhere, though it was mid winter, 
 were gardens, still bright with their flowers, and trees 
 laden with fruit. Passing the river Vulturnus at 
 Capua, now called the Volturno, I was much struck 
 with the appearance of the rich and level plains, 
 everywhere bearing the marks of high cultivation, 
 which extended several miles from its banks. Situ- 
 ated in such a country, it is not surprising that an- 
 cient Capua had such attractions of magnificence 
 and pleasure as to perplex even the strong mind of 
 Hannibal ; and that it stood second at one time only 
 to Rome and Carthage. But while my heart paid 
 homage to the beauties of nature, I could not con- 
 ceal from myself, that man, who should have been 
 her glorious and crowning work, appeared in many 
 instances sad, degraded, and suffering. The beggary 
 which had afflicted us in other places, increased in 
 the variety of its forms and importunity, as we ap- 
 proached Naples. As I witnessed the rags and the 
 sunken countenances of the poor creatures, who con- 
 tinually surrounded our carriage and asked for the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 227 
 
 smallest pittance, it was difficult to realize, that 
 these were the descendants of the men whose genius 
 has inspired the arts and literature of other nations, 
 and who were once the conquerors of the world. 
 
 We left Rome the 29th of December, in the after- 
 noon, and reached Naples on the 31st. On the next 
 day, the first of January, we visited the remains of 
 Herculaneum and Pompeii, and ascended Vesuvius. 
 Pompeii was once a populous and beautiful city, 
 some three or four miles in circumference, situated on 
 the river Sarno at twelve miles distance from Naples. 
 It was overwhelmed by an eruption of Vesuvius on 
 the 24th of August, in the seventy-ninth year of the 
 Christian era ; an eruption of terrible violence, in 
 which the burning lava, boiling over the crater and 
 carrying off large portions of the mountain, took the 
 direction of Herculaneum and destroyed it, while im- 
 mense masses of ashes and small stones, driven in 
 another direction by the wind, overwhelmed Pom- 
 peii. The city of Pompeii, buried in this sudden and 
 terrible manner, lay in its dark tomb of volcanic 
 ashes, concealed and almost forgotten, for more than 
 sixteen hundred years. In the year 1751, some peas- 
 ants, who were employed in cultivating a vineyard 
 near the river Sarno, discovered it. And since that 
 time the excavations have been made ; till at last a 
 large portion of the city, in a state of wonderful 
 preservation, has been brought to light. 
 
 On the first day of the year, and early in the morn- 
 ing, we entered Pompeii through the Herculaneum 
 gate. With a map before us, and accompanied with 
 a guide to give the necessary explanations, it may 
 
228 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 well be imagined, that we walked with deep emotion 
 through this city of resurrection, this disentombed me- 
 morial of a departed empire. The streets, which gen- 
 erally cross each other at right angles, are straight 
 and paved with lava ; and have on each side a raised 
 footway. The houses are generally one story in 
 height, strongly built of lava or other hard material, 
 stuccoed and frequently painted. As is common in 
 this climate, they are so built as to enclose open 
 quadrangular areas, in some of which are fountains 
 supplied with water from the Sarno, which seems to 
 have been carried under the city by means of subter- 
 ranean canals. We rapidly examined many houses. 
 Entering first the quadrangular space, we inspected 
 successively the rooms of the house which is built 
 around the open square, which vary in number and 
 size in accordance with the size of the house ; — the 
 parlor or sitting room, the dressing room, rooms for 
 sleeping and bathing, the kitchen ; and in some cases 
 we noticed the small chapel which was appropriated 
 to the Lares or household gods. The windows have 
 the appearance of having been provided originally 
 with wooden shutters. The floors are frequently a 
 pavement of mosaic. The names and occupations 
 of many of the inhabitants have been ascertained 
 from the inscriptions in red paint on the exterior of 
 the houses. 
 
 Some of the excavations are outside of the Hercu- 
 laneum gate. The house of Marcus Arrius Diome- 
 des is here. It is of two stories, and is the first 
 which was discovered. Some of the rooms in this 
 house are constructed with mosaic pavements, and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 229 
 
 adorned with fresco paintings. It has a garden, cel- 
 lar, baths and furnaces for heating water. In the 
 cellar there still remain a number of large wine-jars 
 partly rilled and surrounded with ashes ; and which, 
 by a fusion of materials contained in the ashes, have 
 become cemented to the wall. An incident occurred 
 here, which reminded us of the dreadful nature of 
 the catastrophe, which overwhelmed this devoted 
 city. We were pointed by our guide to the place in 
 the cellar of this house, where the skeleton remains 
 of seventeen persons were discovered. One of them, 
 adorned with gold ornaments, is supposed to have 
 been the wife of Diomedes. One of the objects of 
 special interest in the city, is the house of Sallust, 
 the Roman historian. It is a large house, situated 
 upon the street by which we entered the city ; and 
 such an one as might be supposed to suit the taste 
 and convenience of a man of wealth and a scholar. 
 Art had contributed to adorn it with its statuary and 
 paintings. Some of the paintings on the walls, to 
 which our attention was directed, are still in a toler- 
 able state of preservation ; one in particular, a pic- 
 ture of Diana and Actaeon. It is worthy of notice 
 that this house has its little chapel for the Lares ; — 
 indicating that Sallust was not disposed to discredit 
 or to treat with contempt, the religious sentiments 
 of his countrymen. The remains of four persons, 
 who perished in the destruction of the city, were 
 found here. 
 
 I could not have anticipated, that anything which 
 I should see at Pompeii, would have any special per- 
 sonal interest for me. But the interest which we 
 20 
 
230 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 feel in the works of a man, whether of literature or 
 art, naturally attaches to the author of them ; and 
 the interest which we feel in the man attaches itself 
 again to his place of residence ; so that in visiting 
 the house of Sallust and going from room to room, I 
 felt very much as if I were visiting the residence of 
 some old friend, to whom I had been under personal 
 obligations for his instructions and kindness. The 
 residences of other distinguished Romans have been 
 ascertained. 
 
 Among the buildings which have been excavated, 
 are shops of various kinds ; — wine shops, barber's 
 shops, baker's shops ; — showing, as well as temples, 
 theatres, and works of art, though in different ways, 
 the necessities, employments, and character of the 
 people. It is not to be supposed, however, that all 
 which has been found at Pompeii, exists there now. 
 Among the ancient remains which have been dug up 
 there, and which are still preserved at Naples, some 
 of which we had an opportunity of seeing subse- 
 quently, are not only busts and statues and other 
 sculptures, but household utensils, coins, weights and 
 measures, surgical instruments, vases of silver and 
 bronze, the various ornaments worn by females, such 
 as rings, bracelets, ear-rings, sometimes enriched with 
 pearls, also amulets of various forms and made of 
 various rich materials, and exquisitely wrought repre- 
 sentations of birds and other animals in mosaic. I 
 hardly know of anything in the works of art, which, 
 in niceness of workmanship, and in the accuracy 
 with which they represent objects, exceeds some of 
 the mosaics which have been found at Pompeii. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 231 
 
 (XXVI.) 
 
 Ascent of Mount Vesuvius — Narrow and precipitous paths bordered 
 by a river of lava — Old Herculanean crater — The two craters now 
 in action — The prospect in descending — Historical references. 
 
 NAPLES, JAN. 2, 1853— SECOND LETTER. 
 
 Returning from Pompeii, we stopped at the town 
 of Resina, which is built above the buried Hercu- 
 laneum. We descended the excavation, which leads 
 to the celebrated Herculanean theatre, and afterwards 
 visited another portion of the city, which has been 
 excavated and remains open for inspection. At noon 
 our party, including Mrs. Walcott, the enterprising and 
 much esteemed lady, whom I have already mention- 
 ed as being one of our number, started from Resina 
 on horseback, with the view of ascending Vesuvius, 
 whose fires and ashes had caused the vast ruin of 
 which we had just been the witnesses. 
 
 The route is on the western side of the mountain, 
 the distance eight miles ; a continual ascent through 
 ways narrow, rocky and precipitous ; but not without 
 interest, bordered as they are with the habitations of 
 men, and with gardens and vineyards, and often pre- 
 senting wild and magnificent views. As we came 
 near the mountain, which rose majestically above us, 
 throwing out from its heated craters a column of 
 smoke, we passed along the side of an immense river 
 of lava, which had stopped in its burning progress 
 and hardened into stone ; — a perpetual monument, in 
 its mighty and terrific desolation, of the terrible agen- 
 cy,which has wrought in the bosom of this mountain. 
 Having passed the rugged base and ascended to a 
 
232 LETTERS JESTHETIC, 
 
 considerable height, we found ourselves at last in the 
 bottom of the great crater, from which are said to 
 have issued the volumes of melted material, which 
 destroyed Herculaneum, 
 
 Standing in the centre of this old and mighty cal- 
 dron, with its blackened walls of two miles in cir- 
 cumference, it was easy to go back in imagination, 
 to the time when its great heat melted earth and 
 rocks, and when it boiled with its restless waves of 
 flame. At this place, where the mountain becomes 
 very precipitous and difficult, we were obliged to 
 leave our horses. The remaining ascent was about 
 a thousand feet, and could not have been effected by 
 us without very considerable aid from others. Mr. 
 Thompson ^with the aid of the vigorous men who as- 
 sisted us, ascended on foot. The others of our num- 
 ber, unequal to the attempt, in any other way, were 
 carried on chairs, elevated on men's shoulders ; and 
 the whole distance was over lava and cinders. In 
 this way, not without some trouble and perplexity, 
 we reached the summit of the mountain of fire. 
 
 There are two craters, which are now slightly in 
 action, not far from each other, and unequal, though 
 not varying much in size. They seemed to be about 
 three fourths of a mile in circumference at the top. 
 Their form is that of a hollow, inverted cone. We 
 walked to the edge of each of these craters. It was 
 terrible to look down. The edge, which is distinctly 
 marked in its outline, is a hardened and burnt crust ; 
 a fusion of the various materials thrown out from 
 the vortex; black in color, but everywhere diversified 
 by the pale yellow tint of sulphur. The craters grow- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 233 
 
 ing more and more narrow towards the bottom, are 
 hundreds of feet in depth ; and it is but natural to 
 suppose, that they are connected with other un- 
 known depths in the vast burning caverns in the 
 base of the mountain. 
 
 From the bottom the smoke ascended in columns 
 of living and endless darkness. And the large dark 
 mass from the abyss was increased by the number- 
 less small wreaths of smoke, which issued from the 
 crevices in its scorched and sulphurous side. Repeat- 
 edly I placed my hand over these smoking crevices, 
 which operted frequently on the edge of the crater, as 
 well as on the side below, and felt great heat. Strik- 
 ing my foot upon the earth in different places, it 
 emitted a hollow and ominous sound, which indicated 
 that nothing but a heated and uncertain crust sepa- 
 rated us from the unknown conflagrations below. 
 Having sufficiently satisfied our curiosity in view- 
 ing this wonderful place, we were not slow in return- 
 ing. And I think that most persons who have as- 
 cended Vesuvius, will agree in saying, that there is 
 but little inducement to remain there for any length 
 of time. 
 
 On coming down the side of the mountain, it was 
 near the setting of the sun ; and a scene of wide and 
 diversified grandeur opened before us. In one direc- 
 tion were the Appenines, with their tops covered 
 with snow. In the other the bay of Naples, with the 
 distant islands of Proscida and Ischia, realized all 
 that had been said of its wonderful beauty. Below 
 us was the city of Naples, and other cities and towns 
 as far as the eye could reach ; adorned with all that 
 20* * 
 
61 
 
 34 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 is rich and variegated in nature and wonderful in art. 
 And the setting sun, illuminating the clear blue sky, 
 glanced upon land and sea, upon mountain and val- 
 ley ; and wrote his farewell in letters of gold. And 
 yet, this expanse of inimitable beauty could not 
 make us forget, that we were on the sides of Vesuvi- 
 us. It was a beauty around us, but not with us. 
 The earth, upon which we trod, in contrast with 
 what we saw in the distance, was scorched and 
 black, 'and full of chasms. We could not forget, that 
 buried, as well as living cities, were at our feet. We 
 were on the mountain of destruction. 
 
 I have already remarked, that the eruption which 
 destroyed the cities visited by us, took place in the 
 seventy-ninth year of the Christian era. Pliny the 
 younger, who was an eye-witness, has given a graph- 
 ic and striking account of it in a letter to Tacitus. 
 But Vesuvius did not exhaust itself at that time. 
 There have been thirty-six recorded eruptions, some 
 of them as terrible as that which destroyed Pompeii, 
 besides those of which we have no account. The im- 
 mense amount of ashes, lava, and cinders scattered 
 over the whole coast, enough if collected together to 
 form a mountain larger than Vesuvius as it now 
 stands, is evidence of their number and violence. 
 As the effects of these eruptions are essentially the 
 same, differing only in degree ; so are the circumstan- 
 ces which attend them. 
 
 Writers, who have given accounts of them, inform 
 us, that they often exhibit premonitory signs. The 
 earth shakes. Beasts and birds taught by their un- 
 erring instincts, scream with terror and flee away. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 235 
 
 Murmurs and groans are heard, deep and terrible, as 
 if uttering the agonies of a mountain laid upon a 
 burning altar. The sea rolls back in agitation. Vast 
 clouds of ashes, hovering high in the air, obscure the 
 light of day. If the sun penetrates them at all, his 
 rays are feeble and red, as if his brightness had put 
 on mourning. Burning rocks in rapid succession are 
 thrown high above the summit. Deep streams ojf lava, 
 hundreds of feet in width, roll down the mountain's 
 side in cataracts of fire ; and in their restless march 
 destroy everything that comes in their way. Man 
 hides himself. Nature mourns. Desolation triumphs. 
 Such are the terms, in which those who have wit- 
 nessed these terrible scenes, have attempted to de- 
 scribe them. 
 
 (XXVII.) 
 
 Tomb of Virgil — Capri, Scylla and Charybdis — Arrival at Malta — 
 Shipwreck and journeys of St. Paul — Character of the Maltese — 
 Churches. 
 
 VALETTA, ISLAND OF MALTA, JAN. 6, 1853. 
 
 A French steamer from Marseilles, has brought us 
 to this place. It has been pleasing to me to sail in a 
 foreign vessel, because it furnishes a new chapter in 
 the book of man's varied history and nature. We have 
 been much pleased with the captain, sailors, and 
 general arrangements of the ship. The real and na- 
 tive politeness of a Frenchman does not desert him 
 when upon deck. But I must go back a little in my 
 narrative, and say something more among the multi- 
 tude of things which will be left unsaid. 
 
236 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 I should not have pardoned myself, if I had left 
 Naples without following the example of many oth- 
 ers in visiting what is supposed to be the tomb of 
 Virgil. The tomb, which bears the name of this 
 great poet, is on an elevated spot near the road which 
 leads to Pozzuoli and Baiae. It is a retired and 
 beautiful place, affording a wide and variegated pros- 
 pect. The tomb once contained a sepulchral urn 
 supported on nine columns, which is now gone. The 
 small monumental building which was erected around 
 the urn, still remains ; but the greatest works of 
 art, if they were here, could add but little to the 
 interest with which the place is invested. Virgil 
 was suddenly attacked with his last sickness, when 
 travelling with the Emperor Augustus ; and it is gen- 
 erally thought, that he selected the place of his inter- 
 ment himself. There can be no doubt, that the Em- 
 peror, who esteemed and loved him, fulfilled his wish- 
 es, whatever they were. The common opinion, so 
 far as I know, asserts this to be the chosen spot. It 
 is such a place as might be supposed to suit a mind 
 which loved retirement, and which was itself a recep- 
 tacle and an emblem of beauty. Upon a marble tab- 
 let in the wall is the epitaph which he wrote for him- 
 self. 
 
 Mantua me genuit ; Calabri rapuere ; tenet nunc 
 Parthenope. — Cecini pascua, rura, et duces. 
 
 Some poor people, who cultivate the grounds, — 
 such humble people as he loved to describe in his in- 
 imitable lines, live near his burial place. Fragrant 
 flowers and plants adorn the spot. The ocean breezes 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 237 
 
 fan it. The beams of the sun of Italy love to linger 
 here. 
 
 In coming out of the bay of Naples we passed 
 near the island of Capri, which separates the bay in 
 one direction from the Mediterranean. It seemed 
 nothing but a lofty rock, very little suited for the 
 habitations of men. And yet this was the place, se- 
 lected by Tiberius Caesar for his residence ; — dark, 
 solitary, rocky, shut out from everything else, like the 
 hardness and selfish seclusion of his own heart. Ha- 
 ting men, because his suspicions and injustice had 
 made himself an object of hatred, he fled to this 
 lonely and desolate spot, and made a palace on the 
 rocks, but without ceasing to be cruel and without 
 fleeing from remorse. 
 
 As we approached Sicily, we came in sight of the 
 islands called the Lipari islands, in one of which, 
 Virgil has located the habitation and caves of iEo 
 lus. One of the most remarkable of these is Strom- 
 boli ; — a precipitous volcanic mountain, ten miles in 
 circuit at its base ; — a Vesuvius in the midst of the 
 ocean. It is said that this volcano seldom ceases to 
 give signs of action ; so that in the night it is a light 
 house to the sailors in these seas ; but passing it in 
 the day time, we saw nothing but a heavy cloud of 
 smoke resting upon its crater. 
 
 It is something for a man to say that he has passed 
 safely through Scylla and Charybdis ; but this has 
 been done by us in our voyage to this place. As we 
 passed along the coast of Calabria, we went into the 
 beautiful harbor of Messina in the island of Sicily; — 
 formed by a narrow promontory of land, running off 
 
238 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 from the east end of the city. This promontory con- 
 tracts the straits of Messina at this place ; — and 
 combined probably with other causes, such as hidden 
 rocks and caverns, causes a violent and irregular mo- 
 tion of the water. And this is the whirlpool, or rath- 
 er a multitude of little whirlpools, of Charybdis ; less 
 violent, perhaps, than it was once, but still not with- 
 out its perils. Sailing ships, in avoiding Charybdis, 
 stand over to the Calabrian or Italian side, and are 
 thus in danger, especially when the current and winds 
 set in that direction, of running upon an elevated 
 and rocky point of land at some distance in the nar- 
 rowest part of the strait. This is the rock called 
 Scylla ; and near it is the modern Italian village of 
 Sciglio. I am not at all surprised at the dread, 
 which these real dangers excited in the minds of an- 
 cient navigators. Brydone remarks, that five ships 
 were wrecked on the rock of Scylla during the win- 
 ter previous to his visit here some years since. Our 
 excellent steamer of course carried us through with- 
 out difficulty. 
 
 On arriving at Malta we could not forget, that this 
 island was the scene of St. Paul's shipwreck, of 
 which Luke has given so specific an account in his 
 history of the Acts of the Apostles. I am aware that 
 some writers have supposed, that this shipwreck 
 might have taken place on another small island 
 in the Adriatic sea. But the evidence in favor of 
 Malta seems to me very decisive. The place, as 
 designated by the traditions of the country, is on the 
 north side of the island, about eight miles west from 
 the city of Valetta. As our stay at Malta was short, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 239 
 
 We lost no time in visiting this interesting locality* 
 We came in full sight of it on a height of land 
 more than a mile distant, and were struck with its 
 conformity to the description given in Acts. Here 
 is the small creek, where the sailors in their perilous 
 situation, would naturally endeavor " to thrust in the 
 ship." On the left of its mouth is a narrow point of 
 land projecting into the sea where the " two seas 
 met;" or what seems to be a better translation, " a 
 place washed by the sea on both sides." On the 
 point of land forming the other side of this natural 
 harbor, is the place, to which the Maltese traditions 
 assign the meeting of Paul with the " barbarous 
 people who showed no little kindness." Publius, 
 " the chief man of the island," is supposed to have 
 resided at the old town of Citta Vecchia, a few 
 miles distant. 
 
 On leaving Malta, after three months' residence 
 here, the Apostle sailed for Italy ; touching at Syra- 
 cuse in Sicily, and at Rhegium in Calabria. This 
 last place, now called Reggio, we passed in coming 
 through the straits of Messina. It is still a consider- 
 able town. His voyage terminated at Puteoli, now 
 called by the Italians Pozzuoli. Puteoli was once a 
 large and commercial place ; and if it be true, as is 
 stated by some writers, that it had much commerce 
 with Alexandria, we see how it happened that an 
 Alexandrian ship brought Paul here. It is an inter- 
 esting circumstance, that a Christian church was es- 
 tablished at Puteoli before Paul's arrival. At least 
 such would be a natural inference from the fact that 
 he met with Christian brethren there, and abode with 
 
240 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 them seven days. In visiting Puteoli, which we did 
 soon after our arrival at Naples, we were influenced 
 by a natural desire to see the spot, which had wit- 
 nessed the faith and prayers of Christians in the ear- 
 ly days of Christianity, and where the apostle first 
 set foot upon the land, where he was to complete 
 and crown his multiplied labors by a triumphant 
 martyrdom. We had thought of him when travel- 
 ling the Appian road, and at Appii Forum and the 
 Three Taverns ; — he had been recalled to our mind 
 when visiting the Mamertine prisons in Rome and 
 the dungeons of Nero on the promontory of Baiae ; — 
 and in looking upon the fragments of the Caesar's 
 palaces on the Palatine hill, we had not forgotten 
 that this too was the scene of his prayers and toils, 
 and that among the devoted ones who had been 
 blessed by his labors, were some of "Caesar's house- 
 hold." He was put to death in the city of Rome. 
 But though history records the fact, no historian un- 
 dertakes to state the precise time of his execution, nor 
 the precise spot on which his blood was shed. 
 
 We have enjoyed much our short visit in this isl- 
 and. The truth is, that Malta, in many respects is 
 a very remarkable place ; — remarkable in its location, 
 its physical and geological formation, and in its long 
 and varied history. A mere calcareous rock in the 
 ocean, covered with so little soil that its industrious 
 inhabitants are obliged to increase it by importations 
 from Sicily, it is rendered important by its geo- 
 graphical position, in consequence of which it has 
 long been one of the great naval stations of the Med- 
 iterranean. And it is an evidence of the value which 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 241 
 
 is attached to it, that it has passed successively in 
 the course of its history, into the hands of the Phe- 
 nicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabians, French, 
 Spaniards, and English who now hold it. 
 
 The city of Valetta is the capital of the island of 
 Malta, built upon a small rocky peninsula ; which is 
 washed on its two sides by two parallel arms of the 
 sea, running some distance into the land, and form- 
 ing two large and secure harbors. The fortifications 
 of these harbors and of other parts of the island, are 
 of immense extent and of vast strength. The ditch- 
 es surrounding the city, which are of great size and 
 many miles in length, are cut out of the solid rock. 
 
 The Maltese have long had the reputation of being 
 a peaceable and industrious people ; and we saw 
 nothing which led us to doubt the correctness of this 
 opinion except the contests among the boatmen, 
 which may be ascribed chiefly to the rivalship of ne- 
 cessity rather than to evil disposition. Their religion 
 is Roman Catholic, and there is more appearance of 
 sincerity and devoutness, than we had noticed in 
 some parts of Italy and France. They have numer- 
 ous churches ; the largest and most splendid of which 
 is the cathedral church of St. John, which is distin- 
 guished among other things, by its costly sepulchral 
 monuments to the Masters and Commanders of the 
 Knights of Malta. In our visit to this church we 
 were shown three keys, taken at different times from 
 the Turks by the Knights of Malta ; and which are 
 said to be the keys of the gates of Jerusalem, Acre, 
 and Rhodes. Of the paintings which it contains, the 
 most remarkable is the beheading of St, John by 
 21 
 
242 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Carravaggio. The church itself, like other Catholic 
 churches, is on a scale of size and magnificence, 
 which is not often witnessed in Protestant countries ; 
 and which is hardly consistent with, or at least is 
 not required, by the simplicity of Protestant worship. 
 
 (XXVIII.) 
 
 Coast of Africa-Keminiscences of Italy and its works of art — Of some 
 frequent and obvious defects in them— Statue of Moses by Mi- 
 chael Angelo — Statue of Christ in the church of St. John Late- 
 ran — The Christ of Corradini in Naples--The Laocoon — The dying 
 gladiator — American artists. 
 
 FRENCH STEAMSHIP ALEXANDER, OFF THE 
 COAST OF AFRICA, JAN. 10, 1853. 
 
 We left Malta on the seventh. In the course of 
 the voyage which is not yet terminated, we have 
 sailed a considerable distance along the coast of Tri- 
 poli. And here for the first time, we came in sight 
 of the great Lybian desert, which stretches westward 
 from the banks of the Nile. On this coast was the 
 ancient city of Cyrene, the residence of the Cyreni- 
 ans mentioned in the New Testament. "We passed 
 in full sight of the city of Derne, which was once 
 in the possession of the United States during their 
 troubles with Tripoli. It is still a considerable place. 
 Vast desert plains and arid mountains have been in 
 sight. 
 
 With the leisure now afforded I wish to say some- 
 thing further of what came under my notice in Italy. 
 In one sense Italy is a land in ruins, and yet it is a 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 243 
 
 land, on which is deposited everything which hu- 
 man art and genius can effect. Works of art are 
 found in England and France, in many of their prin- 
 cipal places, in Oxford, in London, in Paris, and oth- 
 er great centres of material and intellectual wealth. 
 But in Italy, either in the form of ancient remains or 
 as the result of modern skill, they are to be found 
 everywhere. Temples and statues are in her dust. — 
 In repeated instances our attention was called to col- 
 umns, capitals, sculptures, which in America would 
 be regarded as great treasures, scattered in the fields 
 and gardens, lying about in the streets, and some- 
 times built up in the rude stone walls which the 
 people had erected around their cultivated places. 
 
 It would be pleasant, undoubtedly, to give some 
 more particular account of the works of art which 
 we have seen ; but their number renders it difficult to 
 do so in the course of a few letters ; and besides it is 
 hazardous to offer statements and critiques upon art 
 when there has been but little time for examination 
 and study. I give, therefore, impressions and not 
 criticisms. Man is not born a critic, which implies 
 culture, as well as elemental power ; but he is simply 
 born a man ; and therefore, though I make no preten- 
 sions to formal criticism, founded upon any special 
 knowledge of the arts, I cannot deny the power of 
 perceiving and feeling, because this is common to 
 humanity. It must be conceded, I suppose, that the 
 world nowhere else exhibits what is to be seen in 
 Italy, either in the number, the greatness, or the excel- 
 lence of her works. To this general praise she is en- 
 titled, and it would be as little to a man's credit to 
 
244 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 deny the unsurpassed literary excellence of Cicero, 
 Virgil, and Tacitus, as to deny a like completeness 
 and excellence of the Italian genius in the various 
 departments of art. And yet it must be confessed, 
 that the impression which is left upon the mind, (I 
 mean a mind which perceives and feels without pre- 
 tensions to a scientific criticism,) is not always favor- 
 able. In the great edifices which attract notice, the 
 churches, palaces, and other public buildings, the 
 most frequent defect which occurs, is the want of ap- 
 parent unity of purpose and plan. It may be thought 
 perhaps by some, that vastness and unity cannot be 
 combined ; but this is an error. One of the first feel- 
 ings which a person has in contemplating St. Paul's 
 church in London, or the church of St. Genevieve in 
 Paris, or St. Peter's in Rome, is that one mind, ani- 
 mated by one leading artistic conception, presided 
 over their construction, and harmonized their various 
 parts. The same may be said of the Coliseum at 
 Eome and of many other large edifices. They are 
 single thoughts, — the vast conceptions of the inward 
 intelligence, — taking an outward form, and raised 
 and brought into shape and harmony in sculptured 
 stone and marble. 
 
 But still the defect to which I have referred, namely, 
 the want of unity, is frequent. The circumstances 
 under which many large edifices have been built, is 
 probably the explanation of this frequent defect, in 
 part. The addition of building to building, carried 
 over a large extent of ground, erected at different pe- 
 riods of time, with different styles of architecture, 
 and with various and conflicting objects, may consti- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 245 
 
 tute an edifice which will astonish by its vastness 
 and splendor ; but which can hardly fail to be want- 
 ing in that obvious and controlling unity of concep- 
 tion, which is essential to the completeness of archi- 
 tectural beauty. But it ought to be added, that 
 these remarks may be true in regard to many public 
 edifices, while at the same time the subordinate 
 parts are finished with an excellence of art, which 
 cannot be surpassed. 
 
 Another defect in many of those public edifices, to 
 which the particular notice of the traveller is invited, 
 is excess of decoration. Art, not satisfied with the 
 natural limits of its own power, has gone on exhaust- 
 ing itself in repetitions, and in worse than useless at- 
 tempts to give additional touches to beauty which 
 did not need them. Nothing seems to be left for the 
 mind to fill up. Wherever there is a place for orna- 
 ment it seems to be occupied, as if there were no 
 power and no beauty in simplicity. This excessive 
 decoration is probably owing in some cases to the 
 zeal of unregulated piety, as much as to defective 
 taste. 
 
 In the countless statuary which came under our 
 notice, the defect which seemed to me most frequent- 
 ly to occur, was the failure to harmonize expression 
 with character. If it is true, that every man has a 
 character of some kind, it is also true that every char- 
 acter, which is only another name for the predomi- 
 nant dispositions of the mind, has its appropriate 
 expression. A sculptor may give the great outlines 
 of the head of Nero or of Caligula, but if he adds 
 the comparatively mild and just expression, which 
 21* 
 
246 LETTERS JESTHETIC, 
 
 characterizes the features of Antoninus or Nerva, he 
 violates both history and nature. I am not certain 
 that I shall make myself understood, but it seems to 
 me that the celebrated statue of Moses by Michael 
 Angelo may properly be regarded as an illustration 
 of this remark. 
 
 In looking upon this great work, which occupies a 
 place in the church of St. Peter in vinculis in Rome, 
 we felt no disposition to detract from its acknowl- 
 edged and obvious merits. In all the attributes of 
 art, with the exception, as it seemed to me, of the 
 relation between expression and character, it is a 
 work eminently worthy of its distinguished author. 
 We could not fail to recognize the creative mind of 
 the artist at once. But naturally forming our ideal 
 of Moses from our early readings in the Bible, we 
 were led to inquire, — where is the other mind which 
 the mind of the artist has undertaken to represent ? 
 Where is the mind of Moses, which it should have 
 been his first object to gather up and combine from 
 history, and re-establish and make alive in marble ? 
 Where is the expression of that humble and meek 
 disposition, which his history and his writings have 
 led us especially to attribute to him ? We certainly 
 failed to recognize it in that stern and angry gran- 
 deur, which characterizes the countenance of this 
 statue. 
 
 In many of the numberless paintings and statues 
 of the Virgin Mary which we everywhere saw, there 
 was this painful failure of appropriate expression. 
 Art has exhausted itself in drawing the outlines of 
 her beauty ; but they are not inlaid with those revela- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 247 
 
 tions of holy thought and feeling, which her personal 
 history has led us to expect. And still more is this 
 defect seen in the statues and paintings of the Sa- 
 viour. The predominant dispositions of the Saviour 
 in his humanity were meekness, benevolence, pity, 
 and perfect faith in God ; — traits which were not 
 overcome or obscured by man's unbelief and perse- 
 cutions, nor by the inward trials to which his Heav- 
 enly Father sometimes left him. He had nothing in 
 himself, but all things in God. And being a " parta- 
 ker of the divine nature," he loved as God loves, 
 and communicated himself to others in all the appro- 
 priate sympathies of humanity. His love shone in 
 his tears. His faith was not shaken, when the powers 
 of darkness were let loose upon him. 
 
 In Paris, in Florence, in Rome, I looked upon 
 painting after painting and statue after statue, and 
 in almost every instance missed something of that 
 divine expression, which should have stood out as 
 the interpretation and the symbol of his character. 
 The works in other respects were often admirable. 
 There was symmetry, intelligence, beauty, such as we 
 often see in the statues and portraits of good and 
 distinguished men, but still an absence, in a greater 
 or less degree, of the true and Christ-like disposition. 
 
 I saw a painting in the Vatican by a painter not 
 much known, which is exempt in a great degree 
 from this defect. It does not fully give the idea of 
 Christ's intellectual power ; but the expression of his 
 affectional nature, of those heavenly dispositions 
 which I have mentioned, leaves nothing to be de- 
 sired. In the church of St. John Lateran we were 
 
248 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 shown a recumbent statue of Christ after his cruci- 
 fixion, which produced upon us a similar effect. The 
 countenance, as it appeared to be made present in 
 marble, had not lost the look which was appropriate 
 to its humanity ; but a mingled expression of sympa- 
 thetic sorrow and triumphant peace seemed to ally 
 it both with earth and heaven. But I think I never 
 saw the character of the Saviour, the outline and fill- 
 ing up of his inward and sacred disposition, so per- 
 fectly sculptured in the countenance, as in the mar- 
 ble statue of Christ in death, which we were shown 
 in the church of St. Mary in the city of Naples. This 
 extraordinary work was designed by Anthony Corra- 
 dini, a Venetian artist of high reputation, but in con- 
 sequence of his death, it was executed by Sarumar- 
 tino, an artist of Naples, to whom a large share of its 
 perfection is to be ascribed. Christ is laid in the 
 tomb veiled. The veil is wrought in the marble with 
 immense care and labor, and with such skill that the 
 form of the body, and even the muscles are seen 
 through it, and what is remarkable, it is made to ap- 
 pear by the artist, as if it were slightly moistened by 
 the perspiration of death. But this veil does not ob- 
 scure in any unfavorable degree the expression of the 
 Saviour's countenance, which is full of resignation, 
 svmpathy, peace and triumph. My heart, which had 
 long dwelt upon the inward image, was deeply affec- 
 ted in the presence of that triumph of Christian art. 
 The divine countenance, which it had embodied in 
 marble, seemed to come like a revelation from another 
 world, and was present with me many days after. 
 So perfect was the expression of the Christ-like attri- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 249 
 
 butes, — it harmonized so completely with the im- 
 pression left by the frequent reading of the Scripture 
 narrative, that I could hardly help saying to myself, 
 that I had seen the Saviour. 
 
 It may be laid down as a general principle, that 
 an artist can embody in the forms of art only what 
 he has in himself. If he has powers of intellectual 
 conception, he will make the marble or the canvass 
 conform to the intellectual idea. But if with these 
 requisites of art, he is wanting in true and good dis- 
 positions, if there is nothing benevolent, just and no- 
 ble in his character, his hand will tremble and grow 
 weak under the want of an inward inspiration and 
 guidance, and will betray the imperfection of the ar- 
 tist's nature. I might almost say, since such is the 
 general result, that the canvass and marble, as if un- 
 willing to violate the tendencies and laws of univer- 
 sal nature, will refuse to honor that which is not 
 honored in itself. 
 
 If this view is correct, I think we may partially 
 understand the secret of the frequent failures in the 
 artistic representation of Scripture subjects and per- 
 sons. The artist must have some elements of sym- 
 pathy with that which he undertakes to represent, or 
 he will not be likely to succeed. And it is easy for 
 me to believe, that the artist, who executed the admi- 
 rable statuary to which I have last referred, had much 
 of the spirit of Christ in his heart ; and that he was 
 thus assisted in representing it in marble. 
 
 In passing through the galleries of art, the travel- 
 ler is not to expect, that he will find everything 
 equally perfect. Some works are much mutilated, 
 
250 LETTERS iESTHETIC, 
 
 and are retained chiefly on account of their antiqui- 
 ty ; or because they throw light upon some doubtful 
 fact in history, or upon some obscure passage in an- 
 cient writers. Of those which are retained exclusive- 
 ly on account of their merit, some will be found to 
 possess much more excellence than others. So that 
 in rapidly passing through the immense and numer- 
 ous galleries which are found in Italy, many works 
 of art will justly claim and will be likely to receive 
 only a slight notice. Others will stand out as their 
 own commentators, and will make their own power- 
 ful appeals. 
 
 I shall not easily forget the emotions I experienced, 
 when, in the palace of the Vatican, I stood for the 
 first time in the presence of the Laocoon ; styled by 
 Michael Angelo, " the wonder of art." Different from 
 all other works of statuary in the subject which is 
 represented, and exceedingly difficult from the peculiar 
 nature of the subject, it left upon my mind the im- 
 pression, that it must stand alone and unequalled in 
 its execution. What a subject ! — a father with two 
 sons, enveloped in the folds of an enormous serpent ; 
 and yet so grouped and so developed from the mar- 
 ble, that each object is distinctly exhibited, and each 
 in character. Central to the eye and heart of the 
 spectator is the strong and muscular form of the 
 father, rendered doubly strong by parental sympathy 
 and fear, his body twined around by the serpent, his 
 convulsive hand grasping his terrible folds and strain- 
 ing with the anguish of despair — a father mighty in 
 his agonies. With sad and tortured countenances, 
 turned upward towards the father as if to catch a 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 251 
 
 gleam of hope from him, his two sons, one on each 
 side, are twined and compressed and crushed by the 
 same terrible folds, but still struggling and beautiful. 
 Youth, beauty, strength, age, a child's affection, a 
 father's love, pain, sympathy, despair, horror, the 
 death struggles of the body, the agonies of the mind, 
 each perfect in itself, all united in one group, all born 
 as it were out of one solid piece of marble, and all 
 grasped and wounded and crushed in the successive 
 and endless windings of the inexorable monster ; — 
 such is the subject and the execution. 
 
 I wandered through the Museum of the Roman 
 Capitol, another of the great receptacles of the works 
 of art, with all those feelings of deep interest, which 
 are due to the place and the rich treasures it con- 
 tains. We could give but little more than a passing 
 look. Each successive work, so far as it had relation 
 to the aesthetic nature, was allowed to tell its own 
 story and produce its own effects. 
 
 Many things were seen and briefly examined with 
 more or less care and passed by, leaving but feeble 
 impressions. They had value, but not power. But 
 it was not so when I came to the Dying Gladiator. 
 The relations of this work of art to the operations of 
 the human mind is definite and complete ; and the 
 result on the feelings is as certain as the laws of na- 
 ture. The celebrated English anatomist, John Bell, 
 who visited Italy some years since, asserts, and goes 
 into particulars in support of the assertion, that the 
 anatomy of this remarkable figure is exceedingly per- 
 fect. There is no doubt of the truth of this. But I 
 must confess that I thought but little about the 
 
252 LETTERS iESTHETIC, 
 
 anatomy as a separate subject of consideration. It 
 was the the dying man which occupied my thoughts, 
 or rather the dying body sinking slowly to the earth 
 with its relaxed and recumbent limbs, and yielding up 
 in expressions of sadness and agony the unconquer- 
 able spirit to another life. It was the sculpture of life 
 and death in actual conflict, and both conquerors ;— 
 death conquering the body, but life escaping from the 
 drooping eye and asserting its immortality in the 
 fortitude and mournful memories, which still lingered 
 upon the fainting countenance. Byron in his Childe 
 Harold has referred to this wonderful piece of sculp- 
 ture in a touching and graphic stanza. 
 
 " I see before me the G-Iadiator lie ; 
 He leans upon his hand ; — his manly brow 
 Consents to death, but conquers agony, 
 And his droop'd head sinks gradually low; 
 And through his side, the last drops, ebbing slow 
 From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, 
 Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now 
 The arena swims around him. He is gone, 
 Ere ceased the inhuman shout, which hailed the wretro who won." 
 
 I ought not to omit to say, that we found a number 
 of American artists at Rome. These young men go 
 to Rome to contemplate ancient genius and to gather 
 inspiration from the minds of other days still living 
 in their works ; as in earlier times, and under the 
 same impulses of the love of truth and of hon- 
 orable ambition, the artists and philosophers of Rome 
 went to Athens, and the distinguished men of Ath- 
 ens went to Memphis and Thebes. We were kindly 
 received in the studio of Mr. Story, the son of the 
 eminent American jurist of that name ; and our feel- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 253 
 
 ings were touched at witnessing the efforts of the 
 artistic genius and filial piety of the son, in erecting 
 in the sculptured statue upon which he is employed, 
 a worthy monument to his distinguished father. In 
 the studio of Mr Crawford, another American artist 
 of justly established fame, we spent an interesting 
 hour in viewing the works of which he is the author, 
 or which he has gathered around him. Mr. Craw- 
 ford has been many years in Rome ; and has made 
 his way to his present high position as an artist, by 
 the impulses of true genius, directed and aided by a 
 just estimate of the cost of artistic skill, and by perse- 
 vering and self-sacrificing industry. He is employed 
 at the present time by the State of Virginia, in mak- 
 ing an equestrian statue of Washington. 
 
 (XXIX.) 
 
 Arrival at Alexandria — Cleopatra's needle— Pompey's pillar — Palace 
 of the Pasha — Character of [he population — Mahmoudie canal — 
 Commencement of voyage up the Nile — Character of the boat's 
 crew. 
 
 EGYPT, NILE BOAT LOTUS, TOWN OF ATFEH, 
 
 JAN. 14, 1853. 
 
 We reached Alexandria on the eleventh of Janu- 
 ary. We came in sight of the city at dawn of day. 
 It was a calm and beautiful morning. No clouds ob- 
 scured the sky. The surface of the sea was unbroken 
 except where at intervals it dashed its foam gently 
 over the breakers. On our right, as we approached 
 the city, a long line of low, sandy hills was seen in 
 22 
 
254 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 the distance. Large sea birds in great numbers came 
 around us. They seemed to rejoice in our coming ; 
 sometines soaring upward far into the blue depths, 
 and then descending upon their broad white wings, 
 till they fanned the sails of the vessel. As we were 
 looking at the city, more beautiful in the distance 
 than on a nearer inspection, a boat was seen ap- 
 proaching from the harbor. A swarthy Turk, his 
 head bound with a turban, came on board, whose 
 business it was to act as our pilot. Under the direc- 
 tion of his dark and thoughtful eye, the vessel moved 
 slowly along the narrow and winding channel. On 
 our left was the Isle of Pharos ; on our right was the 
 pillar of Pompey. The harbor was full of merchant 
 vessels, steamers and ships of war. The flags of 
 many nations floated around us. The rising sun, 
 gilding with light the objects which it touched, gave 
 new splendor to the scene. For the first time I saw 
 the crescent flag unfurled. It floated broadly and 
 proudly, the emblem of Mohammedan power. 
 
 We had no sooner come to anchor than a number 
 of boats made their appearance around the ship. 
 They were manned by Arab sailors, clad in a rude 
 dress, which but partially covered their sunburnt 
 bodies ; — and speaking in an unknown language, 
 they were clamorous for the privilege of conveying 
 us on shore. Through narrow streets, which bore in 
 general the marks of poverty, we were conducted to 
 the quarter which is inhabited by Europeans. 
 
 At an early opportunity, as we had but little time 
 to spare, we made ourselves acquainted with what is 
 to be seen in the various places of the city. Such 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 255 
 
 have been the vicissitudes of commerce, and the rav- 
 ages of time and war, that but few objects of special 
 interest remain. One of them is the beautiful obelisk 
 in the Eastern part of the city, called Cleopatra's nee- 
 dle, seventy feet in height, and covered with hiero- 
 glyphics. It appears from the hieroglyphic inscriptions 
 on the obelisk itself, that it was the work of Thoth- 
 mes the Third, the Egyptian king who ruled in the 
 time of Moses, some portions of whose history have 
 been brought to light in the numerous hieroglyphical 
 monuments of Egypt. It was originally erected at 
 Heliopolis, and was brought down to Alexandria in 
 the time of the Ptolemies. It is as high, wanting a 
 few feet, as the obelisk of Luxor, which I had seen 
 in the place De la Concorde in Paris. Near it is 
 another large obelisk, lying upon the ground, and at 
 the present time nearly covered with earth. 
 
 In another part of the city, favorably situated on 
 the summit of a small elevation, is the beautiful col- 
 umn called Pompey's Pillar. It is said to have been 
 the centre of the ancient city, which extended in this 
 direction towards the lake Mareotis. Different opin- 
 ions are entertained as to the time when it was 
 erected. But as I travel for health chiefly, I am 
 obliged to leave antiquarian inquiries to others. It 
 is ten feet in diameter, and ninety feet in height, ex- 
 clusive of its Corinthian capital. It is a very striking 
 object; beautiful in its position, as well as its sym- 
 metry and great height. At the foot of the gently 
 rising hill on which it stands, is an extensive Moham- 
 medan grave yard, filled with its rude white monu- 
 ments, 
 
256 LETTERS iESTUETIC, 
 
 Among other objects and places of attraction, we 
 found time to visit the palace of the Pasha, which 
 overlooks what is denominated the "old harbor," and 
 were pleasantly surprised at the taste and elegance 
 with which it is fitted up. It was the varied and 
 gorgeous richness of Orientalism, with scarcely a vi- 
 olation of a just and severe simplicity. Surrounded 
 with gardens filled with the ever blooming trees and 
 flowers of the East, it reminded one of those en- 
 chanted palaces which Oriental poets and romancers 
 love to describe. 
 
 It must be admitted, that Alexandria at the pres- 
 ent time, is far from being what it was once. In the 
 period of its early prosperity, it was fifteen miles in 
 circumference, and contained six hundred thousand 
 inhabitants, including slaves. At present, its popu- 
 lation is said to amount to sixty thousand. Some 
 writers place the number higher. It has long ceased 
 to be the emporium of commerce, and the seat of 
 science and the arts. Comparative poverty has taken 
 the place of the immense wealth which it once gath- 
 ered from the contributions of many nations. The 
 high civilization, which in the days of the Ptolemies 
 attracted the notice of other States and communities, 
 has gone back, at least among considerable portions 
 of the people, to a state of semi-barbarism. But hu- 
 manity with its good and evil, is not extinct. The 
 Turk, though a follower of Mohammed, is still a man, 
 and not without man's capabilities of intellect and 
 feeling ; — and I think I may add, that, in his calm 
 countenance, and ample forehead, and dignified man- 
 ner, he leaves an impression which is much in favor 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 257 
 
 of the prevalent opinion of the original capacity and 
 power of his race. The poor Arab beneath his rude 
 garment bears a heart which has been described as 
 treacherous and cruel, but which I am obliged to say- 
 exhibited kindness to me. Much of the beauty of 
 outward nature still remains ; — and amid many things 
 which are strange, and some things which are un- 
 pleasant, there is not a little which is fitted to please 
 both the eye and heart. 
 
 I walked through some of the bazaars. Much 
 business is still done in them. The Turkish mer- 
 chant, meditative, and never in a hurry, sits cross- 
 legged, seldom without his pipe, and tenacious of the 
 dignity of his flowing beard and turban. Various 
 are the dresses and languages. There are traders 
 from different nations, and in the persecutions to 
 which they have been subjected at home, many 
 Italians have found their way here. Many of the 
 streets are narrow and dirty, but there is a clear blue 
 sky above them. Carriages there are none ; but men 
 and veiled women are riding on diminutive donkeys. 
 Camels with heavy burdens, reminding us of the days 
 of the patriarchs, march slowly through the streets. 
 
 On the third day after our arrival, we sailed in a 
 beautiful boat, called the Lotus, on a two months' 
 voyage up the Nile ; the great river, which has not 
 only fertilized Egypt, but nourished humanity. We 
 were four in number ; the same little company who 
 have traversed together France, Savoy, and the dif- 
 ferent States of Italy, and who have found the at- 
 tractions of travel enhanced by the pleasure of each 
 other's society. We started from the South side of 
 22* 
 
258 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the city, with a favorable breeze, on the Mahmoudie 
 Canal, which connects Alexandria with the Nile at 
 Atfeh, the place from which I date this letter. The 
 part of the city which extends in the direction of the 
 canal, and which may be said to rest upon it, con- 
 trasts advantageously with the other parts. There 
 are many good buildings in this part of Alexandria, 
 and a higher cultivation. By the side of the streets, 
 and on the banks of the canal, are the palm tree, the 
 sycamore, and the acacia with its " yellow hair. " It 
 was here that we heard for the first time the noisy 
 wheel of the sakhia, by which the water is drawn up 
 from the canal for irrigating the lands. The large and 
 well watered gardens are rich with the productions of 
 the climate, and gorgeous with the hues of Eastern 
 flowers. 
 
 The canal connecting Alexandria and the Nile is a 
 little more than forty miles in length, and is ninety 
 feet wide. This canal is undoubtedly an extraordi- 
 nary work for modern Egypt, where there are so few 
 evidences of practical energy and improvement. A 
 hundred and fifty thousand men, called from all parts 
 of the country by the despotic will of the late Mo- 
 hammed Ali, were employed in its excavation. ^ It 
 was excavated in a single year, but at the sad cost 
 of some thirty thousand workmen, who perished 
 through want, fatigue and cruelty. 
 
 In going through the" canal, we have passed nu- 
 merous boats from ten to thirty and forty tons bur- 
 den. They are on their way to Alexandria from dif- 
 ferent places on the Nile, and are ioaded with, the 
 products of the country, particularly wheat and cot- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 259 
 
 ton. We have had thus far a favorable breeze, and 
 our boat throwing out her large lofty sail, has ad- 
 vanced with good speed. The crew are in excellent 
 spirits. With the exception of our pilot, they all 
 seem to be of Arabic descent. Many of them have 
 friends at the different towns and villages which we 
 expect to pass. Our captain lives at Gheneh, nearly 
 opposite the celebrated Denderah, and more than five 
 hundred miles above Alexandria, He has reason to 
 be cheerful. His wife and children are there. Our 
 pilot is a Nubian. His name is Hassan. He is not 
 swarthy like the natives of Egypt, but black of the 
 deepest hue. His full muscular form is in perfect pro- 
 portions. He walks erect, and with a natural and 
 firm step. His countenance is open and generous. 
 His eye is darkness lighted. When he speaks, he 
 accompanies what he says with a natural movement 
 of the hands and body, which is full of dignity and 
 grace. No one can see him without feeling that he 
 has a capacity above his situation. He has a wife 
 and children at Assouan, near the first cataracts of 
 the Nile. 
 
 When I look upon these people, and study their 
 characters, and little personal histories, I cannot har- 
 monize with those persons who speak contemptu- 
 ously of them. There is something in them which 
 interests me. I have seen enough of them already 
 to know that they have the ties and sympathies 
 which humanity recognizes, and which religion sanc- 
 tifies. If science, exiled by a haughty despotism, 
 has been compelled to neglect them, nature has not 
 forgotten to be their teacher. Their affections are 
 
260 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 not buried in the ruins of the intellect. They all of 
 them have a soot which they call their home. The 
 past lives in their memories, and the clay-built hut of 
 their fathers is still dear to their hearts. 
 
 After waiting an hour and a half for the passage 
 of other boats, we have just gone down the locks. 
 We are now on the broad bosom of the Nile, or 
 rather on one of its branches, which, however, is a 
 mighty river, about three-quarters of a mile in width. 
 The flag of America is floating over us. We are sail- 
 ing under the town of Atfeh, which is at the termin- 
 ation of the canal, and on the high, rich banks which 
 overlook the river. And it is at Atfeh that I date 
 and close my letter, as I look around me upon the 
 land of Goshen, and cast my thoughts forward to 
 Cairo and the Pyramids, to Denderah and Thebes. 
 
 (XXX.) 
 
 Delta of the Nile and the land of Goshen — Villages and inhabitants of 
 the Nile — Camels, oxen, arid flocks of sheep — The passage of the 
 Nile by a herd of oxen — Condition and character of the Arabs of 
 Egypt — Incident illustrative of their kindness — City of Rameses 
 — Bridge across the Nile — Wailing for the dead — Arrival at Cairo. 
 
 CITY OF CAIRO, EGYPT, JAN. 24, 1S53. 
 
 As J remarked in my last letter, we left the Mah- 
 moudie canal and entered the Nile at the town of 
 Atfeh, — ascending it by the Rosetta branch. A little 
 below the city of Cairo this great river, as if desirous 
 of rescuing a larger portion of fertility from the sur- 
 rounding deserts, divides itself into two streams of 
 nearly equal size. One of them, the Damietta branch, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 261 
 
 flows in an easterly direction, and passing by the 
 considerable towns of Semenood and Mansoora, en- 
 ters the Mediterranean near the city of Damietta. 
 This city contains at the present time twenty-eight 
 thousand inhabitants ; but was formerly much more 
 important than at present ; and in the time of the 
 crusades was regarded as the entrance and the key 
 to Egypt in that direction. The Rosetta branch 
 flows in a westerly direction, and enters the Mediter- 
 ranean not far from the city of Rosetta. The Ro- 
 setta and Damietta branches at their entrance into 
 the sea are eighty miles distant from each other ; — 
 leaving between them the triangular tract of land, 
 bounded on the north by the Mediterranean, which is 
 denominated, on account of its form, the Delta of the 
 Nile. The Delta was anciently much larger than at 
 present. On the eastern side of it was the land of 
 Goshen, which holds so conspicuous a place in the 
 narratives of the Old Testament, — also the great 
 Egyptian city of Zoan, frequently mentioned in the 
 Scriptures likewise, which was situated on the an- 
 cient Tanitic branch of the Nile. 
 
 In ascending the Nile from Atfeh to Cairo by the 
 Rosetta branch, we were frequently delayed by oppo- 
 sing winds. This was in some respects favorable. It 
 gave us opportunity to visit many of the numerous 
 villages which line its banks, and to notice the meth- 
 ods of living and sources of support. The people 
 have a knowledge of a few domestic mechanic arts, 
 such as the making of a coarse pottery, the weaving 
 and coloring of cloths, boat-building and the making 
 of bricks. They mingle straw with the mud or clay 
 
262 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 from which their bricks are made, as was done in the 
 time of the Pharaohs. But they find their principal 
 support in the cultivation of the soil and in the keep- 
 ing of flocks and herds. 
 
 The soil, formed by the overflowings of the Nile, is 
 of great depth and richness. It is irrigated by water 
 drawn from the Nile. The fields, waving with wheat, 
 barley, lentiles, and the other products of the country, 
 are not enclosed by fences. Each man distinguishes 
 his land from his neighbor's by the large stones placed 
 in the ground, which serve as permanent marks and 
 boundaries. The soil and climate are favorable for 
 the raising of cattle. The camels and oxen and 
 sheep which we daily saw in great numbers, remind- 
 ed us of the days of Jacob and his descendants, who 
 occupied portions of this land. The sheep look like 
 those which are seen in England and America, but 
 the wool is coarser. The goats and sheep are not 
 separated from each other, but go in flocks together ; 
 and are generally watched by little children, aided by 
 a dog. I noticed, that the sheep and goats are some- 
 times, during the night, penned together in a fold in 
 the open field. But generally the sheep and other 
 animals, cows, goats, donkeys and camels, are driven 
 into the villages at night. Each house had an enclo- 
 sure attached to it, formed of mud or of stalks and 
 reeds and open at the top, in which they are shut up. 
 Sometimes they seem to be otherwise provided for. 
 A number of times in the morning I saw the sheep 
 and goats walking complacently about on the flat 
 roofs of the houses. The houses are commonly made 
 of un-burnt bricks, hardened in the sun. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 263 
 
 The oxen of Egypt, those which we first met 
 with and which are much the most frequent, are of a 
 large size, resembling somewhat in shape the buffalo 
 of America, black in color with scarcely an exception, 
 and with large crooked horns reaching back and de- 
 pressed almost horizontally with the neck. I often 
 saw them patiently turning the wheel of the Sakhia, 
 or drawing the plough through the fields. The 
 plough is very simple in its construction, being hard- 
 ly more than a sharpened stick of wood, though some- 
 times pointed with iron. It could not easily have 
 been more simple in the days, of the Patriarchs. The 
 oxen are very tractable. I have seen them with a 
 string round the horn or neck, led home from the 
 fields at night by little children. 
 
 At one time I noticed a herd of these animals, 
 which may be said to make a part of an Arab's fam- 
 ily, on the brink of the Nile under the care of two 
 boys. It was just as the sun was setting. They be- 
 longed to a village on the western side, and were on 
 their way home from a pasture ground, where they 
 had been feeding during the day. I noticed their 
 appearance, because they stood crowded together, 
 about twenty in number, silent and thoughtful, as if 
 meditating some act of importance. The boys took 
 off their clothes, tied them in bundles, and fastened 
 them on their own heads. They then mounted the 
 backs of two of the animals, gave the word of com- 
 mand and the whole herd plunged into the river. 
 They passed directly in front of the boat at a place 
 where the Nile was running more rapidly than com- 
 mon. The boatmen suspended their rowing. Noth- 
 
264 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 ing was seen but their black heads and horns moving 
 towards the other shore. The boys sat upright with 
 the bundles of clothes on their heads. They made a 
 singular appearance, moving rapidly over the Nile 
 and apparently without any support, as the backs of 
 the cattle were concealed under the water. They 
 reached the other shore in safety. The boys put on 
 their clothes. The cattle shook their wet sides on 
 the sand, and they went together up the bank. 
 
 The inhabitants of the villages of which I am now 
 speaking, are for the most part of Arab descent. 
 When the Arabs overran the country in the seventh 
 century, they wasted it, and made great destruction 
 of the people. The descendants of the original Egyp- 
 tians are found, not among the Arab portion, but 
 among the Copts, who are few in number, and gen- 
 erally reside in the large towns. They are compara- 
 tively intelligent and well instructed, and profess the 
 Christian religion. The religion of the Arabs is Mo- 
 hammedan. They are poor, uneducated and scantily 
 clad. But the climate is such, that they do not re- 
 quire much clothing. Though they are poor, there is 
 not such suffering from poverty, as is often wit- 
 nessed in the large towns of Europe. They are su- 
 perstitious, chiefly because they are ignorant. In re- 
 peated instances I saw the children assembled in 
 schools in the larger towns, but did not notice any 
 schools in the small villages. Mohammedanism is 
 not favorable to intellectual culture. The people 
 need the Christian religion. But the laws of the 
 Koran and of the country are strict in the defence of 
 the Mohammedan faith, and to become a Christian 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 265 
 
 is to expose themselves to death. It seems to me, 
 therefore, that there is but little hope for Egypt at 
 the present time ; at least for this portion of the peo- 
 ple. It may be different with the Greeks, Armenians 
 and Copts. 
 
 I was favorably impressed with many of their traits 
 of character. I judge of them from what I saw. 
 They seem to have lost the active and fierce spirit, 
 which characterized their ancestors. They are timid, 
 and make but poor soldiers. I am not prepared, 
 however, to condemn that cowardice, if such it may 
 be called, which shrinks from the taking of human 
 life. As a general thing I observed no deficiency of 
 industry ; but there is very little enter prize. Their 
 study is to live, and not to improve and advance. I 
 cannot easily join with those, who are disposed to 
 make an impeachment of their honesty, — because 
 personally I have had no evidences to sustain it. 
 Nor have I seen evidences of inordinate suspicion, 
 cruelty, and disposition to injure. I have been in 
 their villages daily. The dogs which guard every 
 door, have sometimes attacked me. But the dogs 
 were faithful to what they considered their trust ; and 
 I have no especial complaint to make of their some- 
 what premature and unnecessary zeal. And the less 
 so, because in some instances the Arabs themselves 
 came and drove them away. What may be true of 
 the Bedouin Arabs inhabiting the deserts, who are of 
 the same race but differently situated and under dif- 
 ferent influences, I am unable to say. Time will per- 
 haps determine. But from the Arabs of the Nile, I 
 have received as decided marks of kindness, as amid 
 the civilization of Europe. 
 23 
 
266 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 I will mention a single instance, which may be 
 taken as an illustration of their treatment of me. 
 One day the boat was fastened to the shore on ac- 
 count of a head wind. I strayed away alone into 
 the fields, as was sometimes my practice. Passing 
 near the little hut of an Arab shepherd, who was 
 seated at his door on a mat, he made signs to me to 
 come and sit down. I accepted the invitation and 
 sat down on the mat with him, and we began to 
 converse in signs, aided by a few Arabic and Italian 
 words which one easily picks up. I felt quite at 
 home. In a short time he arose and went to his 
 dwelling, which was a very simple enclosure formed 
 partly by a mud wall and partly by a fence of long 
 reeds which were strongly bound together ; and 
 which was covered at the top with a roof of corn 
 stalks. Bringing out a jug of water and a wooden 
 dish filled with excellent dates, he invited me to eat. 
 I could not well refuse his hospitality. I was pleased, 
 because I saw he had that faith which can take hold 
 of the common link of human brotherhood. Look- 
 ing up I saw a little child peeping round the corner 
 of the hut. This was a new incident. I made signs 
 to it to come to me ; but it was frightened at my 
 strange appearance, and ran away. The father smiled 
 at this, and got up, and ran after the child, and 
 brought it back. I pacified it with a little present, 
 and we soon became good friends. The result of 
 this was, that in a little time all the children, some 
 four or five in number, came round successively from 
 an opening on the other side of the enclosure. After 
 a little while the Arab's wife, — contrary I believe to 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 267 
 
 the usual customs among them, — came also with an 
 infant in her arms. The sun shone brightly, but we 
 were on the shady side of the hut and a gentle 
 breeze made music in the reeds. It was quite a fam- 
 ily meeting, and I tried to make them as well pleased 
 with me, as I was with them. I staid half an hour, 
 and know not how much longer the visit might have 
 been prolonged ; but our captain, (the Rais, as the 
 people of the country call him,) sent one of his men, 
 named Mohammed, to find me. He came with an 
 amazing long club to guard me, as he said, against 
 the Arabs, which seemed to me a very unnecessary 
 precaution. I left my hospitable entertainers, well 
 pleased with my visit, and with sincere desires and 
 prayers for their happiness ; — and have often thought 
 of them since. 
 
 It was to this region of Egypt that Pharaoh sent 
 the brethren of Joseph ; and it answers well the de- 
 scription given of it, as the "best of the land." And 
 no one can visit it at the present time, without seeing, 
 that it is peculiarly suited to their occupation as 
 " herdsmen. It is at the head of the Delta on the east- 
 ern side, and probably a little beyond its present lim- 
 its, that we are to look for the site of the ancient 
 city of Rameses, from which the children of Israel 
 started on their memorable journey in the wilderness. 
 Rameses is spoken of as one of the " treasure cities 
 of Egypt." It probably had its palaces and architect- 
 ural monuments, but like many other great cities of 
 Egypt, nothing now remains of it. At the head of 
 the Delta is a long, and beautiful bridge in the course 
 of erection, extending over both branches of the Nile, 
 
268 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 a little below the point where the river separates. It 
 is a very picturesque object as viewed by one in as- 
 cending the Nile. It is nearly finished, apparently a 
 mile and a half in length, if we include the portion 
 of the Delta, which unites the two parts together, 
 and will compare well in strength and beauty with 
 other great structures of I hat kind. 
 
 I find that I have omitted many incidents of this 
 little voyage ; but I will mention one. At a certain 
 time walking near a little village, I heard a sad and 
 piercing cry. It was the mourning wail of the Egyp- 
 tian women. They tossed their arms wildly, as if 
 frantic with grief, and scattered dust upon their gar- 
 ments. It reminded me of the descriptions of sorrow 
 and wailing which are given in the Scriptures. The 
 occasion was indeed a sad one ; — the death of a little 
 boy, who the day before was drowned in the Nile. 
 He laid dead in the house. The mourners were out- 
 side ; — some standing and some sitting on the sand. 
 As I stood near, a witness, and perhaps I may say a 
 sharer of their grief, I saw a company of mourning 
 friends and relatives coming from another village. 
 The Arab loves his children, and his grief is bitter 
 when they die. The voice of anguish sounded from 
 village to village, and from one side of the Nile to 
 the other. 
 
 But the traveller stops neither for joy nor sorrow. 
 His sympathy, ruled by the occasion, may harmonize 
 with either, but it passes on. He gives a smile or a 
 tear, a just tribute to a common nature, and then 
 goes forward to his own place. 
 
 In eight days from Alexandria we arrived at Cairo. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 269 
 
 Our boat stopped at Boulak, which is the harbor of 
 Cairo. The bank of the river at Boulak is steep and 
 rocky. For a mile or more it was lined with the 
 large boats of the Nile ; — a number of which bore 
 the American flag. We saw signs of activity, wealth, 
 commerce, intelligence. Cairo is only a mile and a 
 half distant ; and is so connected with Boulak, not- 
 withstanding the low sunken grounds between them, 
 that in the eye of a stranger they are essentially one 
 city. In coming back from Thebes we shall of 
 course stop here, and I shall therefore speak of it now 
 only in a few words. 
 
 Cairo contains two hundred thousand inhabitants ; 
 divided and characterized by descent, history and reli^ 
 gion; — Arabs, Turks, Armenians, Greeks and Copts. 
 Here also are the Nubian and the European. The 
 number of the old Egyptian or Coptic race, of whose 
 situation and prospects we hope to learn something 
 further, is said to be sixty thousand. It is through 
 them, as it seems to me, that we must look for the 
 religious recovery of Egypt. 
 
 " The streets of the city, the buildings and gardens, 
 the dress, manners and occupations of the people, all 
 remind us, that we are in a great city of the East. 
 We are in the midst of oriental civilization without 
 the modifications, which in Alexandria it is constant^ 
 ly receiving from the West. Knowledge has a dif- 
 ferent language. Art has a different eye. We per- 
 ceive more and more, and not without painful emo- 
 tions that we are in a land of a different religion. 
 The lofty minaret of the mosque of Mohammed Ali 
 glitters in the sun. 
 23* 
 
270 LETTERS — AESTHETIC, 
 
 Nature also, still more than at the mouth of the 
 Nile, puts on a new dress. It is a land of flowers ; 
 and I might almost say every flower has its singing 
 bird upon it The palm, the acacia, and the orange 
 are here. We have come once more to the region of 
 mountains. I look upon them with the emotions of 
 one who has loved tbem from childhood. But they 
 are not the mountains of our own land. Back of the 
 city, and guarding it from the Syrian desert are the 
 bare, broken, and lifeless heights of Mokattam. Em- 
 bosomed in the Nile are the beautiful gardens of the 
 isle of Rhoda ; — the place where, according to the 
 traditions of the country, the infant Moses was ex- 
 posed in the bulrushes. On the opposite bank of the 
 river, near the site of the wasted and buried city of 
 Memphis, are the pyramids. They stand alone, with 
 the sandy billows of the Lybian desert breaking 
 around them, like the peak of Stromboli in the midst 
 of the sea. 
 
 But it is dangerous to get the first glance of such 
 an object when one is closing a letter. There are no 
 pyramids in America. Mountains and mounds, the 
 monuments of a departed race are there ; but not the 
 pyramids of Egypt. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 271 
 
 (XXXI.) 
 
 Arrival at Benisooef — Convent of St. Anthony — Mohammedan mosque 
 — Visit to a Bey of the Pasha — Picturesque appearance of the vil- 
 lages of the Nile — Birds of the Nile — Gebel-E-Tayr — The wound- 
 ed eagle — The crocodile — The blind boy. 
 
 EGYPT, TOWN OF GHENEH ON THE NILE, 
 
 FEB. 15, 1853. 
 
 We sailed from Cairo on the twenty -fourth of Janu- 
 ary with a favorable wind. Passing by the isle of 
 Hhoda, and the town of Old Cairo on the left, and 
 the town of Geezeh on the right, and village after 
 village in continual succession, we reached on the 
 fourth day the large town of Benisooef, which is dis- 
 tant from Cairo seventy-seven miles. This town is 
 one of the principal places in Upper Egypt, and is the 
 residence of the governor of the province, of which 
 Benisooef is the capital. Numerous boats, moored 
 under the steep banks, lined the shore ; indicating 
 that it is a place of considerable commerce. It has 
 manufactures of silk and cotton, recently established. 
 Anciently it was famous for its linen manufactures. 
 
 From Benisooef, commencing on the opposite side 
 of the river, is the road which leads to the celebrated 
 convent of St. Anthony in the eastern desert. The 
 general course of the road is through the great valley 
 called the Wady-el-Arraba, which runs between the 
 two lime-stone ranges of mountains, bearing the 
 name of the northern and southern Kalalla. The 
 convent, built at the foot of the Kalalla and sur- 
 rounded with gardens, is within eighteen miles dis- 
 
272 LETTERS jESTHETIC, 
 
 tance of the Red Sea. I mention this convent the more 
 particularly, not only because it is a place of consid- 
 erable resort, but because it is the principal convent 
 of the Coptic Christians. The patriarch of the Copts 
 is elected by its members. The convent is of great 
 antiquity, and possesses some historical interest. The 
 cavern is shown near it, in which the celebrated St. 
 Anthony passed a portion of his days in religious re- 
 tirement. 
 
 Leaving Benisooef .after a slight examination of it, 
 we reached the pleasant town of Minieh on the west 
 bank of the Nile, an hundred and sixty miles from 
 Cairo, on the second of February. One of the ob- 
 jects which attracts notice in approaching this town 
 from the water, is a Shekh's white tomb, situated 
 upon the rising ground, and overshadowed by a large 
 sycamore tree. We visited the large and ancient 
 mosque, which stands upon the bank of the river. 
 We found there a number of Mohammedans going 
 through with their devotions. Within it are marble 
 and granite columns with Corinthian capitals, which 
 originally belonged to some building of earlier times. 
 The modern cemetery of Minieh is on the opposite 
 side of the river. The dead are ferried over in boats. 
 The custom of burying their dead on the opposite 
 bank, which is often easily explained in connection 
 with the natural features of the country, existed in 
 ancient times, and gave rise to the legend of Cha- 
 ron's boat. 
 
 Modern improvements on a limited scale have 
 found their way to Minieh. The Pasha of Egypt 
 has established a large sugar manufactory here, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 273 
 
 which is in successful operation. Although we were 
 entire strangers, we were kindly invited to go through 
 it and examine it. We had repeatedly passed large 
 and flourishing fields of the sugar cane. The culture 
 of the sugar cane and also of cotton has recently 
 been introduced. 
 
 A bey of the Pasha, resident at Cairo, was on a 
 visit at Minieh when we were there. We understood 
 that he had been sent up the river on a tour of in- 
 spection, but with particular reference to the manu- 
 facturing establishments. His boat lay very near us. 
 We called upon him in the boat. Seated on a divan 
 in the oriental manner, he bade us a cordial welome ; 
 and ordering coffee to be brought us, politely answer- 
 ed our questions, and made on his part many inqui- 
 ries in relation to America. His countenance indica- 
 ted that he possessed good powers of mind. And I 
 have rarely seen a man more truly dignified and at 
 the same time more kind and affable in his manners. 
 
 It is the small villages, however, rather than the 
 large towns, which constitute the marked peculiarity 
 of the Nile, and which constantly arrest the attention 
 of the traveller. It is undoubtedly true, that they 
 lose much of their attraction when closely inspected, 
 but they are certainly very picturesque when seen in 
 the distance. For hours I have sat in the boat and 
 looked upon them. There is poetry in their very 
 location. They are almost always built in a grove of 
 palm trees. The palm tree itself is a very impressive 
 object. Tall, straight, crowned with a tuft of long 
 waving leaves, it has a lofty and meditative aspect, as 
 if it were conversing with the spirits of the air. In 
 
274 
 
 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 front of the villages is the Nile ; and south of Cairo 
 they have a back ground of mountains. The eastern 
 mountains, with rugged but imperishable walls, guard 
 them from the Syrian desert. The mountains on the 
 western side protect them from the encroachments of 
 the deserts of Lybia. Many villages have canals near 
 them, running back from the river towards the moun- 
 tains. Their high banks form a road. Oxen, camels, 
 flocks of sheep and goats, are constantly passing and 
 repassing. Narrow paths lead from different parts of 
 the villages to the water. Women and girls are seen 
 going to and from the river with water-jars on their 
 heads. They are dressed in simple but decent gar- 
 ments of blue cotton ; and are modest and cheerful 
 in their appearance. In many instances they are 
 adorned with necklaces, ear-rings and bracelets.^ 
 There are folds for the sheep and cattle in the villages ; 
 and in nearly all of them are large dove-cotes. The 
 doves in countless numbers are flying about. Dogs 
 are keeping sentinel on the flat roofs of the houses. — 
 Oxen are turning the wheels of the sakhia, by which 
 the fields are watered. At times is heard the sound 
 of the mill-stone, which is turned sometimes by oxen 
 and more frequently by hand. Groups of unwashed 
 children with their loud laugh are playing in the dust 
 of the lofty banks or at the brink of the river. Such 
 is the scene which repeats itself almost every hour. 
 
 One of the features of the Nile is its numberless 
 beautiful birds ; — not only those which haunt rivers 
 and disply their tall forms upon the water's brink and 
 scream among the reeds ; but the birds of song and 
 bright plumage, which haunt the tree and forest. The 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 275 
 
 trees in the small gardens of the villages and larger 
 towns are alive with them. A stone thrown into a 
 wheat or bean field at a distance from the towns often 
 starts up a cloud of them which fills the air. The 
 Egyptians, either for want of fire-arms or for some 
 other reason, do not seem disposed to injure them, 
 and hence they have become exceedingly tame. I 
 have seen a crow, a bird which is generally not very 
 familiar in its habits, sitting quietly on the mast of 
 our vessel. The sparrow was almost constantly hop- 
 ping about on the deck, picking up the seeds which 
 were there. Not unfrequently large birds are seen, 
 seated much at their ease on the back of an ox or 
 camel. Repeatedly I saw groups of pelicans with 
 their long snowy necks, walking on the banks of sand 
 in retired places. Wild ducks are without number. — 
 At night flocks of geese, uttering their shrill cry, are 
 seen flying over the river ; — extending in long and 
 marshalled array from one bank to the other. Eagles 
 make their nests in the chains of mountains which 
 bound the valley of the Nile ; but we saw them fre- 
 quently near the towns and villages. 
 
 One evening, just as the shades of night were fall- 
 ing, I saw an immense flock of birds pass near the 
 boat and light upon the lofty side of a rocky moun- 
 tain under which we were at the time. They were of 
 considerable size, but I could not tell of what kind 
 they were. In a few moments they all disappeared 
 in the multitude of crevices and excavations which 
 are found there. Here were their nests ; and as they 
 were adjusting themselves for their night's repose, 
 they set up that sort of social congratulation, which 
 
276 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 is common with them at such times. Nothing was 
 seen but the bare rugged face of the mountain ; and 
 yet every crevice and fissure and cavern was suddenly 
 endowed with vocality. The echo of these hollow 
 and rocky recesses increased the sounds to the loud- 
 ness of the human voice. They were like an army 
 of men that were talking loudly. I sat upon the 
 deck and looked, but saw nothing. The illusion was 
 complete. The whole mountain cliff, as if it were a 
 thing of life which had just waked out of sleep, seem- 
 ed to forget its usual solidity and silence, and to be- 
 come light-headed, and to laugh, and to chatter and 
 make merry. 
 
 I had written this before I was aware of the fact, 
 that one of the rocky heights on the eastern side of 
 the Nile and above Benisooef, is named gebel-e-tayr, 
 which means the " mountain of the bird ;" and that a 
 singular tradition is connected with it. The tradition 
 is, that all the birds of the country round about as- 
 semble at this mountain once a year. They then 
 hold a grand consultation for the purpose of selecting 
 one of their number, whose duty it is to remain in 
 the mountain till the next year. The birds then fly 
 away into various and distant parts ; but return 
 again at the appointed time to the " mountain of the 
 bird," for the purpose of releasing their comrade and 
 appointing another in its place. 
 
 Travellers on the Nile frequently go ashore for the 
 purpose of shooting. The sound of their guns was 
 not pleasing to me. It seemed to me to be cruel. I 
 cannot see the good sense, the humanity or the reli- 
 gion of taking away that life which God alone can 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 277 
 
 give, for the gratification of a useless and momentary 
 pleasure. Hearing a gun one day, I looked up and 
 saw a dove winging its way heavily towards the 
 boat. Its slow, irregular motion attracted my atten- 
 tion. The blood dropped from its breast. It strug- 
 gled but still descended nearer and nearer to the 
 water. Its strength failed. Its white plumage sank 
 in the dark wave. Near Minieh a wounded eagle fell 
 by the side of the boat, and was taken on the deck, 
 and died. That dark straggling wing, now feeble in 
 death, had power to climb the mountains. As the 
 light faded from his dying eye, he seemed to utter a 
 reproach and to say, that to destroy him thus was un- 
 worthy of man. I am not ashamed to say that I 
 wept. 
 
 The crocodile, which was here in the time of He- 
 rodotus, is still an inhabitant of the Nile ; not, how- 
 ever, of all parts of it. They are very seldom seen 
 below the town of Minieh. We did not see them 
 until we had ascended above the town of Girgeh, 
 more than three hundred and forty miles above Cairo. 
 We then saw them repeatedly for a number of days ; 
 and in nearly every instance sleeping on little sand- 
 banks in the middle of the river in the heat of the 
 day. In a number of instances we approached quite 
 near them. The largest of them were about twelve 
 feet in length. There were generally two together. 
 They lay stretched out upon these banks, dark, rough, 
 motionless, with their legs and feet projected at their 
 sides and pressed into the sand. When the boat ap- 
 proached them, they moved slowly to the water's 
 edge and plunged into the river. 
 24 
 
278 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Some people of the country, coming down in a 
 boat, had taken a young crocodile. They gave it 
 to our men. It was very small, about two feet in 
 length. The men placed it in a vessel of water, and 
 gave it food, in hopes to keep it alive. Apparently 
 discontented and angry at being taken from its native 
 reeds and waters, it refused to eat, and in a few days 
 died. 
 
 Such are some of the scenes and incidents which 
 characterize a voyage on this remarkable river ; in its 
 natural features, its ancient remains, its history, the 
 customs and character of the people, unlike any 
 other river in the world. Of the remains of ancient 
 cities and temples which are found on its banks, I 
 will endeavor to say something in another letter. 
 
 I have referred in a former letter to the strength of 
 domestic and family attachments in this people ; 
 particularly the Arab portion. I have seen nothing 
 since, which leads me to alter that opinion ; but some 
 things which seem rather to confirm it. Egypt has its 
 afflictions. And among others is the prevalence of 
 blindness ; a fact not easily explained, but which is 
 often mentioned by travellers. But it was pleasing 
 to see, that the subjects of this heavy affliction were 
 not deserted by their relatives and friends. One 
 morning when the boat was laying under a high 
 bank and before we were ready to start, I heard a 
 voice uttering a plaintive note. I looked out of the 
 window, and saw a beautiful boy standing half way 
 down the shelving declivity. He seemed to be about 
 twelve or thirteen years of age. And his sister, a lit- 
 tle smaller in size and younger in appearance, stood 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 279 
 
 by his side, holding his hand. I looked a moment 
 and perceived that he was blind. I asked our inter- 
 preter what it was which he sang so plaintively. He 
 said it was only a few simple words having reference 
 to his situation. 
 
 " I am blind, 
 
 My father and mother are poor, 
 
 Give me some bread, 
 
 I am blind." 
 
 I noticed while the boy was singing, that he turned 
 his calm but sightless face upward, as if beseeching 
 the Almighty to inspire us with kind sentiments ; but 
 the face of the sister, full of anxiety and sorrow, 
 looked downward towards the people of the boat. 
 One of the sailors ran up on the bank, and gave the 
 girl a piece of bread ; and they were about leaving. 
 But they were requested to stop a moment, and an- 
 other piece of bread and some money were sent to 
 them. The little girl took the pieces of bread and 
 the money and placed them in the hands of her 
 brother, — and then placed her arm in his and led him. 
 away. I cannot easily forget their pleased and grate- 
 ful expression of countenance as they left tfe. The 
 burden seemed to be lifted from the heart of the sis- 
 ter, as she saw the smile on her poor brother's face. 
 Affliction seemed to bind them nearer to each other. 
 And I have sometimes thought, that even sorrow has 
 its value, when it thus adds increased intensity and 
 beauty to love. 
 
 On the 7th day of February we reached the beau- 
 tiful city of Ossioot ; — fourteen days from Cairo and 
 distant two hundred and fifty three miles. But the 
 wind, which had been much in a contrary direction, 
 
280 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 beiig favorable, we passed on. We hope to visit it 
 on our return. We are now at the town of Gheneh 
 or Keneh, on the eastern side of the river, more than 
 four hundred miles south of Cairo. This place is cel- 
 ebrated for the manufacture of the porous water-jars, 
 through which the water of the Nile is nitrated. The 
 clay from which they are made is found in a valley 
 to the northward of the town. From Gheneh a road 
 runs through the eastern desert to the town of Cos- 
 sair on the Red Sea ; and by means of this route it 
 keeps up a considerable commerce with Arabia. A 
 provincial governor resides here. 
 
 Opposite to Gheneh is Denderah with its celebra- 
 ted temple. We have just visited it. It is two miles 
 distant from the present bank of the river. It stands 
 on an elevated spot, rising from the green plain 
 around. We walked among its columns, and de- 
 scended into its darkest recesses ; — a great monu- 
 ment erected partly in the time of the Ptolemies and 
 in part by the Romans in the time of Tiberius Csesar, 
 in honor of the Egyptian superstitions ; — interesting 
 to the Christian as showing by contrast, the simpli- 
 city, the purity, and the great and ennobling disclo- 
 sures of Christianity ; — interesting to the lover of art 
 for its massive and splendid architecture, the work in 
 different parts in different ages and nations, and also 
 for its sculptures and paintings, still fresh and life- 
 like ; — interesting to the philosophical historian as a 
 memorial of the development of the human mind, of 
 the affiliated relationships of the human race, the 
 transmission of artistic and social ideas, the succes- 
 sive life and decay of nations, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 281 
 
 (XXXII.) 
 
 Preparations for a visit to the mountains — The old man's donkey and 
 daughter — The plain of Thebes — The statue of Memnon — Medee- 
 net Haboo — Temple Palace of Remeses III. — Statue of Remeses 
 II. — Reflections. 
 
 THEBES, WESTERN BANK OF THE NILE, 
 FEB. 22, 1853. 
 On Saturday, the nineteenth of February, we ar- 
 rived at Thebes. We moored our boat on the west- 
 ern side of the river. The Nile flows on as beautiful 
 as ever. The spreading sycamore shades its level 
 banks. The mountains are seen in the distance. 
 There is life and majesty in the river. There is 
 grandeur in the mountains. But the eye looks in 
 vain for the mighty city, which dates its early glory 
 in the very beginnings of history. 
 
 Early on Monday morning, after our arrival, we 
 made preparations for a visit to the mountains, — the 
 locality of ruined temples, and of the celebrated The- 
 ban tombs. The sun rose. It was the sun of Egypt ; 
 — a cloudless and living radiance in a clear blue 
 sky, more clear and deep and vast even than the 
 sky of Italy. A breeze from the north cooled 
 the air. The shore, as we left the boat, was lined 
 with men and donkeys. I found myself in the midst 
 of a crowd, clamorous in an unknown tongue, — each 
 vociferating and urging his claims. I was somewhat 
 perplexed in the midst of this confusion. But seeing 
 a feeble old man at a little distance, who seemed to 
 be thrust aside by his younger competitors, I made 
 my way to him and placed my hand on the donkey's 
 24* 
 
282 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 saddle. The younger Arabs looked disappointed. 
 The old man's donkey was not as good as theirs. 
 But very soon, seeming to appreciate my feelings, 
 they murmured their approbation. 
 
 As I held my hand on the saddle, looking at the 
 varying countenances of the crowd, I felt it timidly 
 and gently held from the other side. It was the pres- 
 sure of the hand of a little girl, who seemed to say 
 with a half beseeching, half grateful look, — "We are 
 poor, take our donkey, though the saddle is not very 
 good." The old man smiled at this innocent mani- 
 festation of filial earnestness, and gave me to under- 
 stand, that the young girl was his daughter, and 
 would drive the donkey to the mountains. I was 
 entirely satisfied. 
 
 We made our way through the centre of an Arab 
 village. The dogs barked ; and the goats and kids 
 looked down from the flat roofs of the houses. The 
 little girl, to whose protection the old man had con- 
 signed me, had a small stick in her hand, with which 
 she rather gently exerted her authority over the don- 
 key. They appeared to understand each other very 
 well. She wore a loose garment of blue cotton. 
 Her feet were bare ; but she was adorned with the 
 necklace and earrings, of which the poorest Arab girl 
 will not willingly be destitute. 
 
 After leaving the village, we passed two miles or 
 more over the plain ; taking the direction of the stat- 
 ue of Memnon. There were groups of people, rais- 
 ing water from the reservoirs of the Nile, and pour- 
 ing it into the sluices which conveyed it over the rich 
 soil. Camels and oxen and flocks were feeding. On 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 283 
 
 one side of our path was the ploughman ; — on the 
 other the reaper. On going through a dry channel, 
 through which the Nile flows when the water is high, 
 we passed a blind man. My little girl, who sympa- 
 thized in his affliction, gave me to understand that 
 he was a suitable object of my charity. He was affec- 
 tionately attended and led about by a young woman 
 whom I supposed to be his daughter. My little atten- 
 dant, who was was almost daily passing and repass- 
 ing this part of the plain, seemed to be well acquaint- 
 ed with her. 
 
 The plain of Thebes is wonderful. I gazed upon 
 it from one of the mountain heights ; and also from 
 the top of one of the temples of Carnac. From both 
 places the eye easily reached its limits as they are 
 denned by the mountains, though it is a circuit ap- 
 parently of thirty miles. As viewed from the ascent 
 in the mountains, the curving Nile, seen through the 
 whole length of the plain and glittering in the sun, 
 flowed through it like a river of gold. The plain 
 waved with luxuriant vegetation. It is not surpris- 
 ing, that the first inhabitants, who viewed it in its 
 primitive beauty, made it their stopping place, and 
 laid the foundations of the great city. Thebes, un- 
 like the cities of the east generally, had no walls. In 
 the time of its greatness it probably occupied the 
 whole plain. Reaching out from both banks of the 
 Nile, it was guarded on all sides by vast deserts, and 
 still nearer by the continuous line of mountains which 
 intervened between the plain and the deserts. It had 
 but little need, therefore, of walls. The hundred 
 gates of Thebes mentioned by Homer were not gates 
 
284 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 as is commonly supposed, which furnished an en- 
 trance through city walls, but the gates of palaces 
 and temples. And the Theban gate, which is thus 
 commemorated in early poetry, is not a mere portal, 
 through which a man can scarcely enter, but a great 
 architectural and historical arch, some fifty or sixty 
 feet high, which in its proportions, sculptures, and 
 massive boldness, leaves Greece and Rome behind. 
 
 We w r ere three days in the plain and mountains of 
 Western Thebes. I mention what we saw during 
 these successive days ; — arranging it in the order sug- 
 gested by the nature of the objects, rather than by 
 that of the specific day or hour in which they were 
 seen. I shall give but part,, however, in the present 
 letter. 
 
 We first came to the statue of Memnon ; and we 
 had opportunity to examine it again on another day. 
 It stands at the extremity of the plain and at the 
 foot of the Lybian heights ; sculptured from the solid 
 rock with a care which preserves grandeur without 
 violating truth and simplicity. Rising from the base 
 of the pedestal to the height of sixty feet and with 
 head and breast and shoulders and hands and feet 
 all in proportion to the height, it had the appearance, 
 as it rose up suddenly before us, of some mysterious 
 and mighty apparition ; — holding as it were the gate 
 of the mountains and keeping the guardianship of 
 temples and tombs. 
 
 The statue of Memnon is only one among many 
 which formerly existed here. Another of equal size, 
 but not of equal celebrity, is standing near ; and 
 others are at no great distance in mighty fragments, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 285 
 
 like fallen giants with their limbs dislocated, lie pros- 
 trate upon the ground. The Memnon statue is the 
 one so often alluded to by ancient writers, which 
 was said to welcome with notes of music the first 
 bright rays of the rising sun. We had the opportu- 
 nity of listening to the sounds, which probably gave 
 rise to this interesting fiction. They are produced 
 by striking on a hollow portion of the stone in the 
 lap of the statue, which has the peculiarity of emit- 
 ting a sharp metallic sound like that of brass when it 
 is struck. The statue is seated ; and is so large that 
 the boy who ascended it and went to the furthest 
 part of the lap for the purpose of producing the 
 sounds, was entirely out of sight ; so that the statue 
 itself seemed to have the power of uttering them. 
 
 Leaving the statue of Memnon, we next came to 
 the place called Medeenet Haboo, — the Arabic name 
 which is given to a portion of the plain of Thebes, 
 on the western side of the river. Among the ruins 
 which are found here, are the remains of the great 
 " temple palace," as it has sometimes been denomina- 
 ted, of Remeses III. There were other ruins around, 
 some of them of Roman origin ; but our attention 
 was particularly directed to this. We were perplexed 
 at first in forming a satisfactory idea of the plan of 
 this great work. Our guides furnished us but little 
 assistance. But we were able, after a time, and 
 with some little effort, to ascertain as we thought, 
 the general outlines and position, with the successive 
 entrances and courts ; and thus, with what still re- 
 mained of massive walls and splendid columns, to fill 
 up mentally the original and grand conception. 
 
286 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 This temple, which was the abode of royalty as 
 well as of the Egyptian gods, may justly be regard- 
 ed in its objects, the style of its architecture, and its 
 hieroglyphical sculptures, as one of the great monu- 
 ments of primitive Egypt. Some of its columns are 
 more than twenty feet in circumference. The scenes, 
 deeply sculptured with great skill on the walls, are 
 chiefly battle scenes. Remeses is represented in one 
 place as putting to rout his Asiatic enemies, who are 
 in full armor, but in flight before him ; and in another 
 as smiting the captives taken in war in the presence 
 of the god Amunre. War then, as now, when prose- 
 cuted successfully, constituted glory. There are some 
 scenes, however, of a more domestic nature. Among 
 the sculptures, for instance, on the walls of the pri- 
 vate apartments of this edifice, is a representation of 
 Remeses seated on an elegant divan, surrounded with 
 female attendants who wave their fans before him, 
 and present him with flowers.. 
 
 In another place he is represented as seated on a 
 canopied throne, which is borne by twelve Egyptian 
 princes, and attended by officers, who carry in their 
 hands the royal insignia and arms. 
 
 This temple or " temple-palace " dates back in its 
 origin to the reign of its builder, Remeses III. This 
 king began to reign in the year 1235 before the Chris- 
 tian era ; about three hundred years after the time of 
 Moses. 
 
 There are interesting ruins at the Arab village 
 called Goorneh or Koorneh, which is nearly opposite 
 Karnac and not far from the bank of the river ; — es- 
 pecially the remains of a large and beautiful temple 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 287 
 
 older than the one I have mentioned. These remains 
 are scattered over a large extent of ground and bear 
 the evidences of mechanical skill, as well as of sublime 
 conception, which generally characterize the architect- 
 ural remains found in this region. And not far from 
 these ruins are other fragmentary remains of a tem- 
 ple, which dates back to the time of the third Thoth- 
 mes, the cotemporary of Moses. But I found myself 
 more interested by the ruins generally but perhaps 
 incorrectly known as the memnonium, which are found 
 between Medeenet Haboo and Koorneh. 
 
 The temple, which bears this name, was originally 
 entered through the opening in the vast pyramidal 
 towers, built of massive stone and covered with sculp- 
 tures, which still stand as the magnificent front of 
 the large area or court which first opens behind them. 
 This court, which is more than two hundred feet in 
 length, by an hundred and eighty in breadth, was 
 originally ornamented with a double row of columns 
 on each side, some fragments of which only remain 
 now. This large area opens into another court or 
 area, a little smaller in size, which had lateral corri- 
 dors of large circular columns. There were also rows 
 of pillars of a different form at the northern and 
 southern extremities of this court. The second court 
 connects itself with a third, an hundred feet in length, 
 covered with a solid roof, painted of a light blue color 
 and studded with stars. Forty-eight large columns 
 of great beauty, originally supported this roof; many 
 of which are still standing, as also a considerable 
 number of those in the second court. The twelve 
 central columns in the third court are thirty-two feet 
 
288 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 in height and twenty-one in circumference. Some of 
 the columns are prostrate. The remains of pedestals 
 and statues are strewed around them. 
 
 The surfaces of these remarkable ruins are covered 
 with hieroglyphical and other sculptures. Many of 
 them seem to be historical in their character. Towns 
 are taken. Chiefs are led captive with ropes about 
 their necks. In one place a town, favorably situated 
 on a rocky eminence, is defended with obstinacy, but 
 at length overcome. Those, who are able to inter- 
 pret the hieroglyphical characters, state that the 
 towns were taken in the fourth year of Remeses II., 
 who was styled the Great. He is the same with the 
 Sesostris of the Greek historians. There are other 
 sculptures of a different character. Some represent 
 religious ceremonies. In one place is a procession of 
 the sons and daughters of this Remeses. 
 
 One of the most remarkable things here is the 
 statue of Remeses Sesostris. It lies near the entrance 
 of the second court, prostrate and broken. Its 
 estimated weight is a little less than 900 tons. It is 
 sculptured from a single block of sienite. The pas- 
 sing traveller is obliged to rely chiefly upon the state- 
 ments of others. I will only add, therefore, that those 
 who have investigated the subject, inform us, that it 
 was overthrown by the Persian king Cambyses, when 
 he overran and conquered Egypt, so that it may be 
 said to have taken a nation's strength to erect it, and 
 a nation's strength to throw it down. The king in 
 the Egyptian idea of government, represented the 
 State ; and the statue which was erected in his honor, 
 may be said to have embodied the king. And as I 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 289 
 
 stood beside the mighty fragments, and saw the head 
 severed from the body and the face prostrate and hid- 
 den in the dust, I seemed to be looking upon a fallen 
 empire. 
 
 A mere transient stranger in the land, — a sojourner 
 of a few days, — I can of course see but little ; but I 
 have already seen more than I was prepared for. A 
 new ray of intelligence has broken in upon the mind. 
 I can understand now better than I once could, why 
 Greece, in her desire to obtain knowledge, came to 
 Egypt. But where Egypt received her high civiliza- 
 tion, and under what circumstances it was developed, 
 is still a problem. Of the fact of such civilization, 
 including both knowledge and art, the numerous 
 monuments which still remain, leave no doubt. So 
 far as I could perceive, as I looked upon the standing 
 or fallen statues and columns, and upon the number- 
 less beautiful sculptures on the walls, and upon the 
 paintings still fresh and distinct, they exhibited all 
 the attributes of just conception and finished execu- 
 tion, which constitute excellence in art. Of course, 
 as there were many hands employed, there are differ- 
 ent degrees of excellence. And it is true also, that 
 the Egyptian idea of the outward or formal represen- 
 tation of works of art is different from that of the 
 Greeks and Romans. But beauty is infinitely varied. 
 Of all the numberless works of the Creator no two 
 are entirely alike ; — and the power of genius is seen 
 in retaining the essence and divinity of the thing, 
 (that which is its life and character,) under a variety 
 of forms. The eye of the Egyptian artist is oriental ; 
 and accustomed to scenery and life which are found 
 25 
 
290 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 nowhere else, it is filled with the forms of oriental 
 beauty. And that is not all which is to be said. 
 What Egypt was, and what she was able to effect, is 
 not to be estimated by European ideas, nor by the 
 specimens of Egyptian architecture, which are to be 
 found from time to time in Europe and America. 
 She is to be judged not only in connection with her 
 oriental position, which in part gives a character to 
 her works ; but in the light of her own intellectual 
 and moral history, from her own massive ruins, and 
 on her own soil. 
 
 What I have seen of these ruins is only the begin- 
 ning. I can say nothing further at present. I will 
 only add, that new forms of life are generated or take 
 up their abode amidst destruction. I did not see the 
 moss and the ivy growing upon the wall, as on the 
 ruins of Italy and England. But these are not the 
 only signs of change. What were once the palaces 
 of kings or the temples of heathen deities, have other 
 inhabitants now. Aroused by the noise of our com- 
 ing, a lizard thrust his head from a hole in a column. 
 Countless birds flew around us from the crevices in 
 the walls. A flock of sheep and goats came in from 
 the plain, and reposed themselves in the shade of the 
 towers and of the fallen statue of Remeses. Groups 
 of Arabs were seated on the massy fragments. The 
 noise of children echoed through the walls. 
 
 While my learned associate, Mr. Thompson, who 
 added science to taste and industry, took measure- 
 ments and made notes, I sat down on a broken col- 
 umn and meditated. It is thus, I said to myself, that 
 the works of man perish. Among human works there 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 291 
 
 seemed to me to be nothing greater than that which I 
 then witnessed ; but that which is greatest in grand- 
 eur, is greatest also in desolation. But nature lives, 
 because the life of God is in it. There is beauty in 
 the Theban plains. There is grandeur in the Theban 
 mountains. Truth lives also, because truth can never 
 be separated from eternity. Love lives, because with- 
 out love truth ceases to be beautiful, and because 
 without love to give it life, eternity itself becomes an 
 infinite wilderness of desolations. Desolation there- 
 fore, speaks. Its language is, that everything which 
 is not of truth and love, is false ; — false in position 
 and false in nature. And everything which is false, 
 though in its power and pride it may call art and 
 genius to its aid, only builds its own tomb. Man 
 learns wisdom in the midst of ruins. 
 
 I was aroused from these contemplations, which 
 the place and the objects could hardly fail to inspire, 
 by my little donkey girl. She had her own thoughts ; 
 her own sorrows, cares, and joys. She had begun to 
 think of her father's humble home ; and gave the sig- 
 nal for our departure by pointing to the setting sun. 
 
 (XXXIII.) 
 
 Luxor — Palace of Amunoph Third — Dromos and Sphynxes — Temple 
 of Carnac — Night scene — Tombs of the kings and queens — Ideas 
 of the Egyptians on the subject of immortality — Poetry. 
 
 THEBES, EASTERN BANK OF THE NILE, 
 FEB. 25, 1553. 
 
 Having thus spent successive days on the western 
 bank in the examination of various objects of inter- 
 est, we 'passed the river to the village or town of 
 
292 
 
 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Luxor in eastern Thebes. Luxor, " the place of pal- 
 aces," as the name means, in allusion probably, to 
 the ruins which are found in it, is a considerable 
 town situated on a small .hill, with fertile valleys 
 around, and pleasant residences and gardens. The 
 population is mixed, — Arabic, Turkish, Coptic, and 
 some Europeans. In all the important towms on the 
 Nile we found resident Italians in greater or less 
 numbers, who had fled from the oppressions or the 
 revolutions of their unhappy country ; but in Luxor 
 and its vicinity there are attractions, which, indepen- 
 dent of the influence of any such necessity, are likely 
 to induce the temporary or permanent residence of a 
 few strangers. It is foreigners, and not the natives 
 of the country, who bring to light and appreciate, 
 and explain the Egypt of ancient times. We were 
 happy in making the acquaintance of a French gen- 
 tleman, who is employed by the Egyptian govern- 
 ment in superintending the excavations which are 
 still in progress here. 
 
 On the rising ground and fronting the Nile, which 
 flows by in unequalled beauty, a row of columns of 
 great size and finished in the highest style of Egyp- 
 tian art, indicate the locality of another vast temple. 
 Here again, carried back in imagination to its historic 
 date of more than three thousand years, the period 
 when its foundations were laid, we stopped in silent 
 admiration of the genius which conceived, and the 
 power which executed these great works. This tem- 
 ple, as appears from the inscriptions upon it, was 
 commenced by Amunoph Third, w r ho seems to have 
 built the original sanctuary and the apartments con- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 293 
 
 nected with it ; and was completed by Remeses 
 Second, who added a large court with its pyramidal 
 towers, obelisks and statues. If we can rely upon 
 these statements, they carry us back to nearly four- 
 teen hundred years before the Christian era. As I 
 have already said, however, the passing traveller can 
 only give the statements of others. 
 
 It is true that all can see and admire the beauty of 
 the remarkable inscriptions, which ornament the The- 
 ban walls ; and which enclose, in the elegance of 
 their sculptured outlines, the suggestions and truths 
 of a remote history. Of the multitudes, however, 
 who thus behold and admire, few only have the pow- 
 er to understand and interpret their meaning. But 
 science, as well as curiosity, has trod among these 
 ruins. Den on, Champollion, and Wilkinson have been 
 here. And we owe it to the patience of the laborious 
 antiquarian and the man of science, that we can thus 
 associate results with historical persons, and skill 
 with epochs of time. 
 
 This temple will be better understood, when the 
 excavations to which we have already referred as be- 
 ing in progress, shall have been completed. And yet, 
 as it now exists, with large portions buried in the 
 dust, it repays all the interest it excites. Among 
 other fragments which indicate its ancient splendor, 
 there still remains, though not without defacements 
 and injury, a magnificent gateway with its vast and 
 lofty towers. The sides of these towers are covered 
 with hieroglyphics. Before this large and imposing 
 entrance are gigantic statues, which the labors of the 
 learned antiquarians whom I have mentioned, have 
 25* 
 
294 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 ascertained to be the statues of Remeses Second, one 
 of the great men and memorable names of ancient 
 Egyptian history. But these too, though once sup- 
 posed to have the power of perpetuating the features 
 and the honors of a king so illustrious, are defaced 
 and broken. Here, also, were originally two obelisks, 
 covered with inscriptions deeply cut in the solid 
 granite ; — inscriptions which are nearly as distinct 
 now as when the rock first yielded to the chisel. — 
 I have looked upon both of them. But one of them 
 only remains here. The other, removed a few years 
 since at great labor and expense, adorns the city of 
 Paris. 
 
 From the pylon or great gateway of the temple of 
 Amunoph and from the obelisks which stood in front 
 of it, there is a dromos or narrow road, enclosed orig- 
 inally on each side by a row of colossal sphynxes, 
 which extended nearly two miles to the great temple 
 of Carnac. Many of these sphynxes have disappeared 
 under the changes of three thousand years ;— many 
 are much injured ; but others still remain, with much 
 of their original vastness and magnificence. 
 
 Of the great temple of Carnac, I feel unwilling to 
 speak, because I know it would require little short of 
 a life's labor, instead of a visit of a few days, to esti- 
 mate it in the details of its origin, of its various and 
 sublime architecture, and of the historical records 
 which are concealed under its obscure but countless 
 symbols. Volumes have already been written ; but 
 the subject is not exhausted. 
 
 Imagine a level expanse, beautiful in its situation, 
 and a mile and a half in circuit. In the early days of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 295 
 
 Egypt and of the human race, as early as the period 
 when Joseph, the son of Jacob, had authority, the 
 king of that time erects a small but beautiful sanc- 
 tuary near the centre of this plain. It still exists, defin- 
 able and separable, without much difficulty, from all 
 that is around it ; but it exists in ruins. Its sculp- 
 tures tell its history. It is the work of Ositarsen First. 
 Other kings in after times and often at long intervals, 
 Amunoph First, the Third Thothmes, Osirei, and 
 Remeses Third, animated by sentiments of religion 
 or of personal glory, add other courts, temples, corri- 
 dors, walls, gateways, obelisks, colossal statues, which 
 entirely fill up the circuit which has been mentioned ; 
 all having a combined but definite relation to the 
 little central temple from which they have their origin, 
 and also to the temple of Luxor on the eastern side 
 and to the temple of Goornah on the western side of 
 the Nile. So that temple may be said to look upon 
 temple; and the numerous objects of worship, which 
 occupied their sanctuaries, or were sculptured on their 
 walls, as we recall them in the days of their idola- 
 trous supremacy, seem to utter voices of mutual recog- 
 nition and encouragement from one side of the Nile 
 to the other, and from mountain to mountain. 
 
 On all sides of this vast pile of buildings, are gate- 
 ways with lofty towers, some of them in a state of 
 remarkable preservation ; so beautiful, so immense, 
 that human art furnishes no other equally striking ex- 
 amples. In that part of the temple called the grand 
 hall, which is more than three hundred feet in length 
 by an hundred and seventy in breadth, are columns, 
 twelve feet in diameter and sixty-six feet in height, 
 
296 LETTERS — ESTHETIC, 
 
 exclusive of the pedestal. The height of this hall 
 from the pavement to the top of the roof is stated to 
 be eighty feet. In all parts of this immense edifice 
 and on the obelisks which remain, are hieroglyphics 
 and pictorial representations, which illustrate the cus- 
 toms and manners of the people, their political his- 
 tory, and their religion. 
 
 We visited these ruins by night as well as by day. 
 The moon shone brightly. Silence reigned in the 
 midst of desolation. It was an impressive scene ; — 
 art and genius struggling against time. In one of 
 the areas a lofty column stood alone, like the palm- 
 tree of the desert ; and in its solitude seemed to look 
 with sorrow upon its fallen brothers, which were bro- 
 ken at its feet. In another place I looked with amaze- 
 ment on two of these mighty pillars, which had start- 
 ed from their foundations apparently at the same 
 time, and had met and embraced each other in their 
 fall. There they stand, folded as it were in each 
 other's arms, struggling together against the footprints 
 of ruin, yielding a mutual and sympathetic support, 
 and awaiting in some epoch of coming ages a mutual 
 destruction. 
 
 On leaving these interesting places I must refer 
 briefly to the tombs. They are in the mountains 
 on the western side of the Nile ; — in retired places 
 and difficult of access, amid the stillness of per- 
 petual solitude, and where nature's surrounding deso- 
 lation, shapeless, discolored and without verdure, is a 
 fitting emblem of this great empire of the dead. We 
 spent among them a large portion of two successive 
 days. The tombs of the kings and queens, without a 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 297 
 
 parallel in any other place or nation, are of immense 
 size ; — cut from the solid rock. Some of them, con- 
 sisting of successive chambers, are more than three 
 hundred feet in length. They are adorned in some 
 instances with niches and statues, and with columns 
 of great beauty ; and might well be denominated the 
 palaces of the dead. Not only the sculptures with 
 which they are covered, but the paintings also, to a 
 considerable extent, are exceedingly distinct and fresh 
 in appearance. In a number of the tombs there still 
 remain sarcophagi, hewn from granite, and of very 
 great size. On the lids of the sarcophagi are the 
 sculptured figures of the monarchs, whose dust they 
 were destined to contain. One of these figures, well 
 sculptured and in high relief, is that of Osirei Second. 
 Many of the sculptures on the walls obviously have 
 relation to great moral and religious truths. We 
 could not well doubt from the inscriptions and figures 
 which we saw, that the Egyptians, though much per- 
 plexed on the subject, had a dim belief in the immor- 
 tality of the soul. How could the thoughtful and 
 inventive minds, which projected and carried into ef- 
 fect these remarkable works, believe or think other- 
 wise ? Or what motive could they have had to stim- 
 ulate them in these great exertions, if they had sup- 
 posed that the death of the body is the absolute ex- 
 tinction of existence ? In the farthest chamber of the 
 tomb of Remeses Seventh, on the wall beyond the 
 massive sarcophagus which encloses the ashes of the 
 dead, is sculptured a winged globe, in the centre of 
 which is a little child ; — intimating that from beyond 
 the tomb there arises a new and higher existence. 
 
298 
 
 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 The sculptured representations, which are intended 
 to set forth the examination and trial which the dead 
 are required to undergo in passing from this life to an- 
 other, involve the idea of the continuance of being. 
 
 If we adopt the supposition, that their own minds 
 were incapable of originating the doctrine of immor- 
 tality, we may perhaps account for its existence 
 among them in another way. To the distinguished 
 men of the Israelites, Jacob and Joseph and Moses, 
 and many others who resided in Egypt at different 
 periods, but whose names are not handed down to us, 
 this idea was familiar. They learned it from the God 
 of their fathers. And with such dispositions as they 
 possessed, they could not fail on favorable occasions 
 to communicate it to others. From Egypt, which 
 may be regarded as the first great school of the civil- 
 ized world, it spread to other nations. Egypt was 
 the teacher of Greece. Plato, with a mind thirsting 
 for all knowledge, resided a number of years on the 
 banks of the Nile ; — pursuing his studies in the re- 
 nowned schools of Heliopolis. He is said to have vis- 
 ited Thebes. And a mind like his, which conversed 
 with men, with history, and with nature, heard also 
 and understood the voice from the tombs. He had an 
 eye for the beauties of art ; but knowing that there is 
 a science above that of the beautiful, he made it his 
 worthy aim to become acquainted with the moral and 
 religious ideas of the people ; and while his great and 
 thoughtful intellect rejected their mythology and the 
 puerilities of their unworthy worship, it accepted and 
 defended the fundamental suggestion of an immortal 
 existence. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 299 
 
 Walking among the repositories of the dead, in the 
 mountains of Thebes, the memorials sometimes of 
 pride and ambition, and sometimes of domestic affec- 
 tion and of dim but struggling religious hope, and re- 
 flecting upon the character of the people with whom 
 they originated ; so ingenious and meditative, and in 
 general so pacific in their dispositions towards other 
 nations, my mind was profoundly affected. Espe- 
 cially when I saw them groping after the truth but 
 still sinking into darkness ; — multiplying gods under 
 the names and forms of Horus, Athor, Anubis, Osiris, 
 Isis, Pthah, and I know not how many others, and 
 yet rejecting or not seeing God in his truth and sim- 
 plicity ; — unable to crush the desire of immortality and 
 yet not understanding the time, the method, or the 
 source of its realization ; — demonstrating that the 
 greatest human wisdom without God to guide it, is 
 but a light to error and a beacon to destruction, — I 
 felt grateful, that God, the only source of true guid- 
 ance, had made himself known to the world, and had 
 put an end to doubt. Clasping to my bosom that 
 Bible, which from early life had been my instructor 
 and my consolation, my joy in prosperity and my 
 hope in trial, I felt it to be more precious than ever ; 
 and I recognized anew, in the humble Son of Mary, a 
 greater teacher than the masters of Roman, Grecian, 
 or Egyptian wisdom. 
 
 Thus the time allotted us has passed. There are 
 monuments of art and attractions of nature still high- 
 er up this river of rivers. But they are not for our 
 eyes ; and Philas with its broken and its standing col- 
 umns, and the sounding cataracts, and Nubia, not 
 
300 LETTERS JESTHETIC, 
 
 unknown to history, cannot be seen by us. The 
 Rais of our little boat, instructed by the winds, has 
 given his orders. The sailors, with their rude song 
 upon their lips, are already seated at their oars.— 
 Time is the controller of action. Each moment has 
 its own history, and issues its own commands. I 
 gave a parting look to the mighty architectural monu- 
 ments of a buried nation, and saw for the last time 
 the mountain of tombs. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON LEAVING THE TEMPLES AND TOMBS 
 OF THEBES. 
 
 The oar is dipping in the waves, 
 
 That bear me on their watery wings. 
 
 Farewell to Egypt's land of graves ! 
 Farewell, the monuments of kings ! 
 
 They died j — and chang'd the living throne 
 
 For chambers of the mountain stone. 
 
 I trod the vast sepulchral halls, 
 
 Designed their lifeless dust to keep, 
 
 And read upon the chisell'd walls 
 
 The emblems of their final sleep ; 
 
 •And learned, that when they bow'd to die, 
 
 They hoped for immortality. 
 
 Dark was the way. They knew not how 
 
 That other life would come again, 
 To rend the flinty mountain's brow, 
 
 That overlooks the Theban plain. 
 But if aright their hearts they read, 
 The rocks at last would yield their dead. 
 
 Oh yes ! The instincts of the heart, 
 
 In every land, in every clime, 
 The great, ennobling truth impart, 
 
 That life has empire over time. 
 Death for eternal life makes room, 
 And heaven is born upon the tomb. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 301 
 
 They saw the end, but not the way, 
 
 The life to come, but not the power j 
 And felt, when call'd in dust to lay, 
 
 The doubt and anguish of the hour. 
 Oh Christ ! By Thee the word is spoken ; 
 The power is given j the tomb is broken. 
 
 (XXXIV.) 
 
 Arrival at Osioot — Its situation — Coptic Christians — Mountain of Osi- 
 oot — Tombs in the mountain — View from the summit — The des- 
 ert — John of Lycopolis — Extract from Gibbon — Commotions in 
 Upper Egypt — Affecting death of an Arab girl — Ruins of Abydos 
 — Poetry. . 
 
 OSIOOT, UPPER EGYPT, MARCH 7, 1853. 
 
 In coming down the Nile we have reached, after a 
 passage which has been somewhat delayed by unfa- 
 vorable winds, the pleasant city of Osioot ; — the resi- 
 dence at the present time of the governor of the The- 
 baid or Upper Egypt, and which may be regarded as 
 its capital. It is situated about two miles from the 
 river, under the shadow of a lofty mountain of lime- 
 stone, which guards it from the sands of the Lybian 
 desert. The nourishing village of El Hamra upon 
 the bank of the river is its port. There is a large ca- 
 nal, which conveys the water of the Nile into the city, 
 and into the fields and gardens around it. Portions 
 of the grounds within the city and in its immediate 
 neighborhood are low and are innundated in the an- 
 nual rise of the Nile ; but a communication is kept 
 up at all times between the Nile and the city, and be- 
 tween the city and the plain at the foot of the moun- 
 tain, by'means of a large dyke, which is well built, 
 and is richly ornamented with trees. The city is said 
 26 
 
302 LETTERS-— ESTHETIC 
 
 to contain twenty thousand inhabitants, of whom one 
 thousand are Christians, chiefly Copts. 
 
 In this place, and still more in other places, we 
 have made some inquiries in relation to this Christian 
 sect. They claim to be the descendants of the old 
 Egyptians ; and intellectually they seem to possess 
 much of that power, which gave such an ascendancy 
 to their ancestors. But deprived of the means of edu- 
 cation, inheriting a system of forms and ceremonies 
 which seemed to us in its tendencies, to perplex rather 
 than to enlighten and encourage the true religious 
 spirit, and crushed by arbitrary power and the domi- 
 nant influence of Mohammedanism, their condition is 
 discouraging, and almost hopeless in their own view, 
 as it seems to be in the view of others. They an- 
 swered our inquiries promptly, and appeared to be 
 grateful for the interest and sympathy we expressed. 
 Their history, their character, their present prostrate 
 condition, give them a claim upon the aid, the pray- 
 ers, and the sympathy of Christians in other lands. 
 
 One of the objects of interest at Osioot is the lofty 
 and picturesque mountain which overhangs it. It is 
 steep and difficult of ascent, but well repays the labor 
 of the traveller in the wide and rich prospect which 
 it presents from its top. In its side are rows of tombs 
 excavated in the rock, differing much in size and ris- 
 ing one above another almost to the summit. In the 
 days of early persecution under the Roman emperors, 
 they are said to have furnished a place of refuge and 
 of residence to the Christians of Egypt. We have oc- 
 cupied a short time in examining a number of them. 
 In some of them are inscriptions upon the walls, which 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 303 
 
 may yet repay the labors of the Egyptian antiquarian. 
 Portions of the mummies of human bodies are scat- 
 tered upon the ground. And repeatedly we saw what 
 we had seen nowhere else, the mummy of the wolf, 
 which was once regarded as an object of special ven- 
 eration and probably of worship in this region. It 
 was owing to this circumstance, that the Greeks gave 
 the name of Lycopolis to the city — the city of the 
 ivolf. Some of the tombs are quite large, and would 
 be regarded as objects of great interest in other coun- 
 tries ; but they are so far inferior to the tombs found 
 in other parts of Egypt, that the traveller looks upon 
 them for a few moments and then passes on. 
 
 With some difficulty we reached the summit of the 
 mountain. A little below it, as we were clambering 
 along among the rocks, two eagles, disturbed by the 
 unusual sound of human footsteps, suddenly flew out 
 of one of the smaller excavations. The summit of 
 the mountain, which we judged to be some five or six 
 hundred feet high, presents an enchanting prospect of 
 very great extent. It is true, it does not differ much in 
 its general features, from what we had witnessed in 
 some other places ; but it is richly varied and heighten- 
 ed in particular elements of beauty; the rich Nile 
 flowing for many miles in its magnificence, — the bloom- 
 ing gardens in the city and in its environs, — the fields, 
 as far as the eye can reach, green with perpetual veg- 
 etation and traversed everywhere by flocks and herds, 
 — the mountains which enclose the plain on every side 
 with their lofty white walls, — the clear blue sky rest- 
 ing upon them ; and on the side of the city the straight 
 tall minarets, and the outlines of the city itself, mel- 
 
304 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 lowed and beautiful in the distance, without any- 
 thing seen or experienced from the crowded bazaars 
 and narrow and circuitous streets, which might other- 
 wise detract from the favorable impression. Repeat- 
 edly had we witnessed such scenes in Egypt. My 
 experience has not been very wide, and therefore it 
 might be more proper for others to make comparisons. 
 I can only say, I have seen nothing which exceeds 
 these wonderful panoramas in other countries, except 
 perhaps the unexampled view from Richmond Hill 
 in England, which has equal extent with increased 
 elements of interest. 
 
 Turning from the valley of the Nile, we looked in 
 the other direction upon the desert. The contrast was 
 as great as imagination could well conceive. But 
 the desert also has its power over the human mind. 
 If it is not beautiful, it is not without sublimity. 
 Stretching in every direction, like an illimitable sea, 
 it produces an impression, profound, grand, sublime. 
 Does philosophy undertake to explain it ? The thing 
 itself is both its cause, and its explanation. How is 
 it possible for vastness to be without sublimity ? 
 Magnitude of the thing, even if it be the magnitude 
 of desolation, gives magnitude to the thought and 
 feeling. There must be something ultimate. The 
 vast power of such a scene is, and must be inherent 
 in it, by its own nature. True philosophy describes, 
 when it has no further power to analyze. The des- 
 ert, therefore, utters its own voice ; is sublime, if we 
 may so express it, by its own declaration, because it 
 is sublime in itself. 
 
 We saw the remains of ancient buildings on the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 305 
 
 top of this mountain. It was in this place, a spot pecu- 
 liarly favorable to retirement and meditation, that we 
 are to look for the residence of the celebrated eremite, 
 John of Lycopolis. Shut out from the world by a 
 voluntary and almost inaccessible seclusion, he may be 
 said to have looked down upon it ; and the suggestions 
 of so grand a scene could hardly fail to have aided that 
 communion with God, which was favored by retire- 
 ment. This remarkable man spent a great portion 
 of his time in private worship ; and such was the 
 prevalent opinion of his sanctity and of his intimacy 
 with the Divine Mind, that people came to him from 
 a great distance, and even kings sent to him, to learn 
 his opinion on the. great matters of morals, religion 
 and providence. It is to this man, whom some peo- 
 ple will call superstitious and others will describe as 
 devout, but whose personal history is involved in so 
 much obscurity and is perhaps so much exaggerated 
 by fiction, that all judgments upon it are liable to 
 more or less of error, that the historian Gibbon refers 
 in a passage which may properly be quoted here. 
 Speaking of the emperor Theodosius, he says : 
 
 " Before he performed any decisive resolution, the 
 pious emperor was anxious to discover the will of 
 heaven ; and as the progress of Christianity had si- 
 lenced the oracles of Delphi and Dodona, he consul- 
 ted an Egyptian monk, who possessed, in the opinion 
 of the age, the gift of miracles and the knowledge of 
 futurity. Eutropius, one of the favorite eunuchs of 
 the palace of Constantinople, embarked for Alexan- 
 dria ; from whence he sailed up the Nile as far as the 
 city of Lycopolis or of Wolves, in the remote province 
 26* 
 
306 LETTERS — .ESTHETIC, 
 
 of Thebaid. In the neighborhood of the city, and oil 
 the summit of a lofty mountain, the holy John had 
 constructed with his own hand a humble cell, in 
 which he had dwelt about forty years, without open- 
 ing his door, without seeing the face of a woman, 
 and without tasting any food that had been prepared 
 by human art. Five days of the week he spent in 
 prayer and meditation ; but on Saturdays and Sun- 
 days he regularly opened a small window, and gave 
 audience to the crowd of suppliants, who successively 
 flowed from every part of the Christian world. The 
 eunuch of Theodosius approached the window with 
 respectful steps, proposed his questions concerning 
 the event of the civil war, and soon returned with a 
 favorable oracle, which animated the courage of the 
 emperor, by the assurance of an infallible victory. " 
 
 At the very hour in which I am writing this letter, 
 there is great commotion in Upper Egypt ; probably 
 greater than has existed for a considerable period. It 
 is not, however, so much the commotion of political 
 excitement and rebellion, as the general outbreaking 
 of individual and domestic sorrow. This unhappy 
 state of things, of which it would have been difficult 
 for me to conceive if I had not witnessed it, origi- 
 nates from the recent order of the Pasha of Egypt for 
 a new and universal levy of troops. The shekhs or 
 subordinate governors of the small districts, who ex- 
 ercise authority under the Pasha and are dependent 
 upon him, are required to enforce this military man- 
 date ; so that it is now taking effect in selecting and 
 enforcing its victims in all the towns and villages. 
 I refer to this subject in part, because it throws light 
 upon the domestic habits of this people. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 307 
 
 When we were at Thebes, as we went into the 
 western mountains to visit the tombs of the kings, it 
 was painful to see in repeated instances tombs and 
 caverns and difficult places on the heights, occupied 
 by large companies who had fled from the conscrip- 
 tion. They preferred a military execution or starva- 
 tion among the rocks in sight of their own homes, to 
 an exile, — which would be the result of their falling 
 under the levy, — of five and perhaps seven years, in 
 Cairo and Alexandria, or on the borders of Syria. At 
 every town where we stopped in coming down the 
 Nile to this place, we heard the agitation and outcry 
 of this universal sorrow. It is the same here. 
 
 As we came down from the mountain of Osioot, 
 and were passing along the raised dyke which con- 
 nects the region of the mountain with the city, my 
 attention was called to a sorrowful group of people. 
 A guard of soldiers was conducting a young conscript 
 to the city barracks. He was bound with cords ; and 
 closely followed by a blind old man, who was attend- 
 ed by two women, one on each side of him, whom I 
 supposed to be his daughters. The faces of the wo- 
 men were soiled with dust. Dust was scattered upon 
 their heads, and they uttered often a loud wailing cry. 
 Advancing a little further, we found that there was a 
 great number of conscripts in the city, who had been 
 brought in from the neighboring villages. They were 
 collected at the different military depots, which were 
 surrounded with large numbers of their relatives, who 
 gave expression to their deep grief in the oriental 
 manner. I am not aware that any adequate expla- 
 nation can be given of this general opposition to the 
 
308 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 levy on the part of the remote population, except 
 their strong attachment to their families and homes. 
 I could mention a number of additional facts in sup- 
 port of this view ; but I will give only one, which has 
 left upon my mind a painful sorrow. 
 
 On our return from a visit to the ruins of Abydos, 
 where we had witnessed some remarkable remains of 
 Egyptian art, and as we were passing over the beau- 
 tiful plain which connects Abydos with the city of 
 Girgeh, we met a number of men carrying a dead 
 body on a rude bier. They appeared very sad, as 
 they stood silently on the side of the road, while we 
 were passing by. And as we had seen nothing of 
 this kind before, — -a lifeless body carried to its place, 
 with mourners but apparently without any relatives 
 present, — we took the liberty to make some inquiries. 
 We learned from them, that it was the corpse of a 
 young woman who had been killed but a little while 
 before ; and that they were carrying the body to the 
 place where she had lived. Her brother had been 
 taken as a conscript and forced from his home. The 
 sister whose affections had been united and nurtured 
 with his in their solitary residence, followed him with 
 her lamentations, till the officer, under whose author- 
 ity he was taken, exasperated by her uncontrollable 
 grief, drew his pistol and shot her dead. The lifeless 
 body was before us ; and such was the story of her 
 death, as I gathered it through our interpreter. 
 
 In a moment all the beauties of nature around me, 
 which had filled my heart to overflowing, were cov- 
 ered with a cloud. Thought, imagination, conscious- 
 ness, seemed to be absorbed in this painful event. I 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 309 
 
 heard her lamentations ; I saw her life-blood flowing. 
 I followed the corpse to the old father's home. He 
 was an old man unknown to me. I never entered his 
 hut. I never saw his gray hairs. But still the sym- 
 pathy of a common nature placed him before me. 
 Imagination saw him in his sorrow. He stood bend- 
 ing over his staff. The corpse was brought to his 
 door. He saw its blood-stained features ; and the deep 
 cry which he uttered went forth upon the winds. It 
 was the shrill, hopeless cry of a broken heart. 
 
 There is but one consolation in such sad events. 
 They are solemn protests against error and crime, — 
 not the protests of calculation and of argument, but 
 the higher and juster protests of the unconquerable in- 
 stincts of the heart and of life itself. In the early 
 times of the Roman republic, the blood of woman, 
 in more instances than one, consecrated rights and 
 truths ; and history has done her justice. And the 
 sacred blood of this poor Arab daughter and sister, 
 (shed, if I may so express it, because her full beating 
 heart could no longer hold it,) the blood of this un- 
 taught but true-hearted child of the desert, has conse- 
 crated and ennobled the great truth, that affections 
 are the life of the soul ; and that man cannot under- 
 stand the principles and worth of his existence till 
 strife shall cease, and he shall " love his neighbor as 
 himself. " 
 
 I have referred in the course of this letter to our 
 excursion to Abydos, which lays back at some dis- 
 tance from the river and about ten miles from the 
 city of Girgeh. We were there on the 2nd of March. 
 There is an Arab village not far distant ; but the site 
 
310 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 of the ancient city, which among the cities of the 
 Thebaid is said to have been second only to Thebes 
 itself, is buried deep in recent accumulations of sand, 
 so that in walking over it we ascended a considerable 
 distance and easily placed our feet on the sculptured 
 roofs of the splendid temples, which were once its or- 
 naments. With no small difficulty we descended into 
 them, and admired anew beautifully colored sculp- 
 tures and columns of nearly three thousand years' an- 
 tiquity, as perfect as if but yesterday from the hands 
 of the architect. 
 
 We are once more starting for the Pyramids and 
 Cairo. We hope to be able to stop a few hours at 
 the celebrated tombs of Beni Hassan, some of which 
 were excavated in the time of Joseph, and which are 
 represented as being covered with well executed paint- 
 ings, illustrative of Egyptian manners of that early 
 period. It is there that Doric columns are found; 
 differing but little from those of the Greek ; and sculp- 
 tured and erected in these distant regions, before the 
 Doric name was known. But strange is the power 
 of saddened associations. The poor Arab girl is still 
 before me. The monuments of Egypt cannot drive 
 her from my mind. And I will close my letter with 
 a stranger's humble tribute to her sad but noble 
 memory. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 311 
 
 LINES COMMEMORATIVE OF AN ARAB GIRL SLAIN NEAR GIRGEH, 
 
 IN CONSEQUENCE OF HER INCONTROLLABLE AFFECTION 
 
 FOR HER BROTHER. 
 
 Beneath the palm tree's lonely shade 
 
 His flock the wandering shepherd leads. 
 
 'Twas there in early life they played 
 Around their lowly hut of reeds. 
 
 Oh how she loved him ! On the plain, 
 
 That stretches from the mountain rock, 
 
 'Twas theirs to watch the waving grain, 
 Or guard the lootsteps of the flock. 
 
 He was her brother. But the hour 
 
 Which tore him hence, has hastened on. 
 
 Taught by affection's mighty power, 
 
 She felt, that bliss and hope were gone. 
 
 Frantic, she could not let him go. 
 
 The arms were clasped which would not part. 
 Oh, blame her not ! Thou dost not know 
 
 The pangs, which rent that sister's heart. 
 
 But what against tyrannic wrong 
 
 Are woman's griefs and feeble cry ? 
 But woman too is sometimes strong, 
 
 The Arab girl had strength to die. 
 
 Too weak to break her brother's chain, 
 But strong in love, she bled and fell. 
 
 Child of the desert ! Not in vain 
 
 Thy lips breathed out that sad farewell. 
 
 Oh no ! Thy blood has made it true, 
 
 That despots cannot break or bind, 
 Though they may pierce the body through, 
 
 The, loves and memories of the mind. 
 
312 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 ' (XXXV.) 
 
 Tombs of Beni Hassan— Columns and inscriptions — Arrival at Ghezeh 
 — Excursion from Ghezeh to the pyramids — Size of the great pyra- 
 mid — Impressions left upon the mind--The colossal Sphynx — 
 Memphis— Return to Ghezeh — Cross the Nile at the isle of Rhoda 
 — Reach Cairo. 
 
 EGYPT, PYRAMIDS OF GHEZEH, MARCH 17, 1853. 
 
 We realized the anticipated pleasure, to which I al- 
 luded in my last letter, in stopping at the tombs of 
 Beni Hassan ; — eighty miles below Osioot where I 
 last wrote. These tombs are interesting on account 
 of their antiquity ; — it being conceded, I believe, by 
 those who profess to be learned in early Egyptian 
 history, that some of them were excavated in the time 
 of Ositarsen First. I have already had occasion to 
 intimate, that it was in the reign of this king that 
 Joseph and his brethren came into Egypt. 
 
 On entering the tombs of Beni Hassan, which are 
 found at a little distance from the Nile on the side of 
 a high hill which overlooks the ruins of an Arab vil- 
 lage, we noticed the deep square pits, which we had 
 seen in other places. They are not found, however, 
 in all the Egyptian tombs. They are cut with great 
 exactness and care in the rock, without any fixed rela- 
 tive position, but often near the centre of the great 
 sepulchral chambers ; about six feet square, and va- 
 rying in depth from twenty to forty feet. The bodies 
 of dead persons, — probably those not entitled to the 
 highest degrees of honor, — were deposited in them. 
 
 The sepulchral chambers in this place are not so 
 large as those of the kings and queens in the moun- 
 tains of Thebes ; but it can hardly be said, I think, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 313 
 
 that they are inferior in architectural beauty. Cer- 
 tainly the proportions of the rooms and the beauty of 
 the columns with which they are ornamented, indicate 
 artistic conceptions, which could hardly be expected 
 in the very early age which is assigned to them. The 
 shafts of some of the columns are fluted polygons of 
 sixteen sides, differing in style from any we had no- 
 ticed elsewhere ; and from the similarity which they 
 bear to columns of later date in other countries, it 
 may well be supposed, that the architects of Egypt, 
 whose elaborate works could not exist without being 
 widely known, furnished suggestions, which had their 
 influence in the progress and perfection of Grecian 
 art. 
 
 The tombs of Beni Hassan are especially remarka- 
 ble for the character of their sculptures and paintings, 
 which are occupied almost exclusively with domestic 
 scenes, and with the scenes and arts of common life. 
 Mingled with representations of dancing and hunting, 
 are other representations of men employed in agricul- 
 tural pursuits, in manufactures, and in various other 
 ways ; such as watering flax, manufacturing cloth from 
 flax, fishing with nets, making bread, feeding cattle, 
 playing games of ball, making pottery, blowing glass, 
 taking inventories of goods, inflicting the punishment 
 of the bastinado, and performing various active and 
 athletic feats. There is a difference in the execution ; 
 but some of the paintings, estimated on any just prin- 
 ciples which are known to the art, must be regarded 
 as admirable. Some of the figures are in perspective, 
 and are executed with skill in that respect as well as 
 in others. 
 
 27 
 
314 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 In wandering a few months ago through the exca- 
 vations of Herculaneum and Pompeii, I felt, as I trod 
 the very dwellings they had inhabited, that I knew, 
 from what I saw around me, much more than I could 
 learn elsewhere, of the domestic occupations, habits 
 and life of the people. They were records which 
 could not be mistaken. And the sculptures and paint- 
 ings in the tombs of Beni Hassan, have left a similar 
 conviction in respect to ancient Egypt. Dead in fact, 
 and dead in the ordinary forms of history, it may still 
 be said of Egypt, — what can hardly be said of any 
 other nation, — that she still lives in her own burying 
 place. 
 
 We are now amid different scenes. In seven days 
 from Beni Hassan and nineteen from Thebes, a voy- 
 age down the Nile of unusual length, we have at last 
 reached the pleasant town of Ghezeh, directly oppo- 
 site the town of Old Cairo and the enchanting island 
 of Rhoda. From Ghezeh to the celebrated pyramids 
 of Memphis, the ancient capital of Egypt, but which 
 are now generally described as the pyramids of Ghe- 
 zeh, is a distance of six miles. When the country is 
 overflowed by the Nile, the route is circuitous and is 
 longer. 
 
 The excursion from Ghezeh to the pyramids is a 
 pleasant one. Skirting the town of Ghezeh and on 
 the edge of its wide and fertile plain, is an immense 
 forest of palm-trees, regularly set out and all of them 
 of great height. Standing erect, and destitute of 
 branches, excepting the long feathery limbs which fan 
 the air at their top, they have the appearance of tall 
 and majestic columns. The limbs at the top, reaching 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 315 
 
 out towards each other, form a roof overhead, exclud- 
 ing the light and heat of the sun, and inviting the foot 
 of the traveller to its shade. We passed through the 
 edge of this forest. On leaving it, we proceeded over 
 a plain of great fertility and high cultivation, which 
 bore marks of being overflowed in the inundations of 
 the Nile. It is the lower portion of the old plain of 
 Memphis. The city of Memphis, of which scarcely a 
 ruin now remains, was situated a little higher up the 
 river. In two hours we reached the base of the great 
 pyramid. 
 
 This pyramid, which has in its immediate vicinity 
 a number of others of smaller dimensions, is four 
 hundred and fifty feet in height ; with a square base 
 of seven hundred and forty-six feet on each side ; and 
 is said to cover twelve acres of ground. According 
 to the statements of ancient historians, it was twenty 
 years in building and required the labor of three hun- 
 dred and sixty thousand men. On the summit is a 
 level space of about thirty feet square. Mr. Thomp- 
 son was the only one of our party who felt able to as- 
 "cend to the top. He represented the view which was 
 presented from the summit as exceedingly extensive 
 and beautiful. 
 
 A thousand questions arise on looking at this great 
 work. Where were these immense stones cut ? By 
 what means were they transported to this place ? By 
 what skill and appliances of machinery were they 
 raised to their position? What was the object of the 
 mysterious chambers in its interior ? Who was buried 
 in the sarcophagus ? The mind is bewildered in con- 
 jectures ; but the pyramid itself is a reality, which 
 
316 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 sets conjecture and scepticism at defiance, as it defies 
 time, tempests, and the Lybian sands. 
 
 It is dfficult to exaggerate the impression, which 
 this enormous pile of stone makes upon the mind, 
 when it is seen for the first time. But while the emo- 
 tion is powerful beyond what is experienced in other 
 places, perhaps in view of any other mere work of 
 man, it looks so much like another useless and heaven- 
 defying tower of Babel, the monument of mere hu- 
 man pride and ambition, that the feeling of humilia- 
 ting sadness is hardly less strong than that of admira- 
 tion. Nor will the friend of humanity and of human 
 rights forget, that these pyramids stand the perpetual 
 memorial of what political tyranny, grasping at power 
 and trampling on rights, has done in past ages, and 
 will continue to do, so long as it exists, in all ages to 
 come. If there were no historic testimony to that 
 effect, if the Cheops of Herodotus, who is said to 
 have been the builder of the great pyramid, were not 
 historically commemorated as a tyrant by the father 
 of history, we must necessarily have come to the con- 
 clusion from the work itself, that it was built at the 
 price of the most unjust exactions, and had its foun- 
 dations laid in blood. 
 
 At a little distance from the great pyramid is the 
 colossal sphynx, which no traveller willingly leaves 
 Egypt without seeing. Its enormous body is partially 
 buried in the sand ; but its head and majestic features 
 are still erect and lofty. The sphynx, which, in its 
 design, is a mystical emblem of the combination of 
 intelligence and power, is a sculptured human form 
 in its upper parts, attached to the recumbent body of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 317 
 
 a lion. The body is a little less than a hundred and 
 fifty feet in length. The fore-legs and paws of the 
 lion-shaped body extend to the distance of fifty feet. 
 Such is the statement of its measurements made by 
 travellers, who had leisure and opportunity to exam- 
 ine it carefully. The human breast and head, which 
 lift themselves upward out of the immense sculpture 
 which constitutes the leonine base, is more than sixty 
 feet in height. The circumference of the head around 
 the full, projecting forehead, is a' hundred feet; all 
 cut, with the exception of one or two small portions, 
 from one solid rock. 
 
 No object in Egypt, among the multitude of its 
 objects of interest, fixed my attention more deeply 
 than this. So vast and so fall of life, it had to me 
 the appearance of some mighty existence, lifting it' 
 self 'by its own power from the deep bosom of the 
 earth. Its features are worn and mutilated by time ; 
 but it requires no great effort of the imagination, aid- 
 ed by the mysterious power of what still remains, to 
 call them back and to restore something of the origi- 
 nal completeness of the mighty image. Its lips, di- 
 minished by the attrition of the sand and wind, were 
 once full ; and breathed their appropriate expression 
 of wisdom and beneficence. Its calm, majestic eye, 
 full of intelligence, but, in being robbed of something 
 of its original power, apparently drooping with sor- 
 row, looks out upon the wide level plain, the reposi- 
 tory of unknown ruins, and seems to seek the men 
 and monuments of other days. That benign but lof- 
 ty look has watched the march of generations and 
 nations. It saw the rising beauty of Memphis, and 
 27* 
 
318 LETTERS— ESTHETIC, 
 
 delighted in its matured and mighty magnificence* 
 It looks at the present hour, as if it still anxiously 
 sought that image of beauty and greatness. It seeks 
 it in vain. No wall", no tower, no palace, scarcely a 
 broken column, is visible. It hears the sound of the 
 camel's tinkling bell ; it beholds the flock of the shep- 
 herd on the plain ; but the queen of cities has depar- 
 ted ; — Memphis is no more. 
 
 Returning to Ghezeh on our way* to the city of 
 Cairo, which we reached the same day, we crossed 
 the Nile to the pleasant and flourishing town of Old 
 Cairo, — passing the southern extremity of the isle of 
 Rhoda. The harbor of Old Cairo, which was crowd- 
 ed with the boats of the Nile, is formed in part by 
 this island. It was here, according to the traditions 
 of the country, near the southern end of this match- 
 less island of flowers, that the infant Moses was con- 
 cealed in the thick bulrushes on the banks of the Nile. 
 It was here, that the daughter of Pharaoh, whose 
 name, according to Josephus, was Thermutis, found 
 him. It was in this region, at least, and perhaps in 
 the schools and palaces of Heliopolis and Memphis, 
 now buried in the dust, that he was nurtured, under 
 the care of a protecting providence, for his high and 
 mysterious destiny. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 319 
 
 (XXXVI.) 
 
 Cairo — Excursion to Heliopolis — Name and scriptural allusions — Obe- 
 lisks — Tradition of Joseph and Mary — Garden of Shoobra — Ni- 
 lometer — Island of Rhoda — Religious ceremonies of the Dervishes 
 — Slave market — Citadel of Cairo — Tomb of Mohammed Ali — 
 Divisions of the modern city — Condition and prospects. 
 
 EGYPT, CITY OF CAIRO, MARCH 26, 1853. 
 
 We are now once more in Cairo, which we reached 
 on the seventeenth. We have been detained in mak- 
 ing preparations for the journey of the long desert 
 and Mount Sinai. In my former letter from Cairo, 
 I intimated that I might write again on our return 
 here from Thebes. We have been kept here longer 
 than we expected, but this detention has furnished 
 us with a better opportunity than we might otherwise 
 have had, of visiting the city, and the interesting lo- 
 calities in its immediate vicinity. 
 
 In making excursions for this purpose we have met 
 with no difficulty ; but on the contrary, every reason- 
 able facility has been afforded. The hauteur and dis- 
 tance which were formerly ascribed to the Turks, seem 
 to have passed away. If this is not entirely the case, 
 it certainly is so in a considerable degree. I ascribe 
 this very much to their increased acquaintance and 
 association with Europeans. 
 
 Among other excursions in the neighborhood of 
 Cairo, we have visited the site rather than the ruins 
 of the ancient Heliopolis, which was situated about 
 six miles distant from the modern capital of Egypt. 
 It was a city comparatively small in size, but of great 
 celebrity, both on account of the Temple of the Sun, 
 
320 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 from which the city took its name, and also on ac- 
 count of its schools of astronomy and philosophy. It 
 was here, as I have had occasion to remark in a for- 
 mer letter, that Plato resided and studied ; and when 
 in the reign of Augustus Caesar the city was visited 
 by Strabo, the geographer, a house was pointed out 
 to him, in which the Greek philosopher was said to 
 have lived. It was in Heliopolis, also, that Herodo- 
 tus, who has been styled with no inconsiderable rea- 
 son the father of history, spent a portion of his time 
 when he visited these regions ; and here, in conversa- 
 tion with the priests and other learned men, he ac- 
 quired much of that knowledge which enabled him 
 to write the affairs of Egypt. And it seems to me no 
 unreasonable supposition, that Moses, at a still ear- 
 lier period, who was " learned in all the wisdom of 
 the Egyptians" and whose writings, independent of 
 what may be said of their inspiration, place him at 
 the head of learned men in the attributes of know- 
 ledge, eloquence and moral insight, studied in the 
 same schools ; and was the associate in place, if not 
 in time, with the philosophers and learned men of 
 Greece. 
 
 The ancient hieroglyphical name of this city, 
 given in reference to its temple and the form of 
 worship kept up in it, was Ei-Re, which means the 
 house of the sun. The Hebrew name applied to it in 
 the prophet Jeremiah, is Beth-Shemesh, which has 
 the same meaning. It is hardly necessary to add, 
 that the Greek name of Heliopolis, by which it is 
 commonly known at the present time, among Euro- 
 peans, is similar in its import. In Ezekiel, in the pro- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 321 
 
 phetic announcement of the various desolations which 
 were to take place in Egypt, it is called by a rhetori- 
 cal license of which we have other instances in the 
 Bible, Aven, or the city of falsehood or vanity, in al- 
 lusion probably to the false worship established in it. 
 In the opinion of many Biblical critics it was the 
 daughter of a priest of Heliopolis, who was married 
 by Joseph in the time of his great power and influ- 
 ence in Egypt. The hieroglyphical inscriptions which 
 have been found there, show that the city existed in 
 his time. 
 
 I think the excursion to the site of this ancient and 
 renowned city, one of the most pleasant which can 
 be taken from Cairo. It was a bright, cheerful day 
 when we went there, which was not rendered oppres- 
 sive, as was sometimes the case, by the heat of the 
 sun ; and the multiplied objects which presented them- 
 selves to notice, harmonized in one great panorama of 
 beauty. In approaching the place on which the city 
 was built, we passed a large level plain, and I ob- 
 served numerous camels and horses upon it, and that 
 it was occupied by a multitude of tents, which made 
 a picturesque appearance. They were the tents of 
 Mohammedans, who were assembling in great num- 
 bers from various places on the Nile, preparatory to 
 a pilgrimage to Mecca. Reaching the site of the city, 
 we did not find, nor did we expect to find, many ruins. 
 The natural effects of time, the inundations of the 
 Nile, and the ravages of conquering armies, have ac- 
 complished their work of destruction here, as they 
 have done at Memphis and other places. And there 
 are now but few ruins remaining. We saw, however, 
 
322 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 a number of very large blocks of hewn stone, covered 
 with sculptures which belonged to some ancient 
 Egyptian building ; — also mutilated sphynxes. 
 
 From the position of these ancient remains, partly 
 covered in the earth, and with mounds of earth around 
 them in some places, it was natural to suppose that 
 other and more extensive ruins still exist under the 
 ground, and may hereafter be discovered. 
 
 The site of the temple of the sun, which is particu- 
 larly mentioned by Strabo, was easily indicated to us 
 in the midst of the trees and blooming shrubbery 
 which now cover it, by the lofty obelisk which still 
 stands. The earth had collected around this obelisk 
 at its base to the depth of five feet above its pedes- 
 tal ; but had been partially removed so as to bring 
 the pedestal in sight. The height of the column, ex- 
 clusive of the pedestal is sixty-eight feet ; but it does 
 not differ in its general form, and in the great number 
 of its sculptures, and in the skill displayed in them, 
 from other works of this kind which we have seen. 
 It is, perhaps, proper to add as indicating something 
 of the primitive splendor of Heliopolis, that there 
 were originally four obelisks here. One of them is 
 said to have been destroyed by the Arabs ; but at 
 what time, and under what circumstances, I am una- 
 ble to state. Two were carried to Rome by Augus- 
 tus Csesar after the battle of Actium. One of them I 
 mentioned in my letter from Rome, as particularly at- 
 tracting my attention, as we entered the great square 
 in the neighborhood of the Porta del Popolo. The 
 other remains here, where it stood more than three 
 thousand years ago, — a magnificent but solitary monu- 
 ment of a ruined city and a departed civilization. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 323 
 
 It is said among the traditions of the country, that 
 this city was visited by Joseph and Mary with the in- 
 fant Saviour, when driven into Egypt from Judea by 
 the persecutions of Herod. I am aware that there is 
 much difference of opinion in relation to the value 
 which is to be attributed to traditions. I do not attri- 
 bute any inordinate worth to them. And still it will 
 always remain true, that the history of traditions is a 
 part of the history of the human race ; and that they 
 furnish suggestions and open up trains of thought, 
 which sometimes throw light upon history, and still 
 more frequently upon the varieties of men's ideas 
 and affections. 
 
 But here in this singular land, the present and the 
 past, the living and the dead, all epochs of time, and 
 all varieties of civilization, seem to be mingled to- 
 gether. In one of the excursions in the neighborhood 
 of Cairo, desirous of seeing the Egypt of the present 
 as well as of the past, we visited the palace and gar- 
 dens of Shoobra. They are four miles from the city 
 in a northern direction. The ride for a great part of 
 the distance is over a wide avenue, raised a number 
 of feet above the verdant plains and gardens around 
 it, and protected by its greater elevation against the 
 overflowings of the Nile. In its whole length it is 
 lined on both sides with very large acacias, which bend 
 over so as almost to embrace and intertwine each 
 other with their magnificent canopy of shade. It was 
 filled with multitudes of people going in different di- 
 rections, and with caravans of loaded camels. At its 
 termination is the garden of Shoobra. Laid out, per- 
 haps, with too much regularity, but still rich in the 
 
324 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 beauties of art and nature, this celebrated garden has 
 its palace and fountains as well as its shrubbery and 
 flowers. The birds have found out the beauty of its 
 cool retreat. So numerous do they nestle in its thick 
 green shades, that every branch and flower seems to 
 utter its song. Near its centre is a large marble foun- 
 tain, surrounded with a covered corridor, at the four 
 corners of which are rooms richly fitted up with di- 
 vans in the Turkish manner. The stranger, satiated 
 with the beauties of nature, is invited to repose him- 
 self here, if he chooses. And yet with a greater ex- 
 pense of the labors of art, the garden of Shoobra had 
 less attraction for me, than the quiet and varied beau- 
 ty of the gardens of the Island of Rhoda. 
 
 It was a matter of course that we should visit the 
 Nilometer. It is opposite Old Cairo, in the Island of 
 Rhoda. We passed in a boat the branch of the Nile 
 which separates the town from the island. Built by 
 one of the Caliphs in the beginning of the ninth cen- 
 tury, it once had its dome and its historic inscriptions. 
 The most that is seen now is a large and well-built 
 square chamber, which connects with the waters of 
 the Nile. It has a graduated pillar in its centre, by 
 means of which, at the time of its annual inundation, 
 the rise of the Nile is ascertained. A proclamation 
 of the exact advance of the river, as ascertained in 
 this way, is made every morning by public criers, 
 appointed for different parts of the city. 
 
 The Island of Rhoda is little more than a mile in 
 length. Not far distant from the Nilometer, and at 
 the southern end of the Island, is the palace of Ibra- 
 ham Pasha. Our little party were readily admitted 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 325 
 
 into this palace, and shown through its richly fur- 
 nished apartments. The southern side of the palace 
 rests upon piles of solid masonry, which form a bul- 
 wark against the strong currents of the Nile. We 
 wandered through the delightful gardens connected 
 with the palace, to which I have' already referred as 
 being more attractive in some respects than the gar- 
 den of Shoobra. 
 
 I hardly know by what impulse of the heart it was 
 that the same excursion which carried us to the flower 
 garden and the palace of the Island of Rhoda, found 
 us also in the large circular hall at Old Cairo, in which 
 are celebrated the mysterious ceremonies of one of 
 the sects of the Mohammedan Dervishes. Entering 
 this building under the direction of our guide, we 
 took a seat on the mats and cushions placed around 
 its interior. On the wall were hung the badges of 
 the society, and implements of war. On the side op- 
 posite to us a circle occupying about a third of the 
 space, was formed of cushions and rich skins spread 
 upon the stony floor. Soon after we had taken our 
 seats, the Dervish, who presided at the ceremonies on 
 this occasion, entered this circle, and seated himself 
 at the place where it touched the wall. He seemed 
 to be a man of about forty years of age ; with a form 
 erect and symmetrical, a countenance open and intelli- 
 gent, an eye large and dark. As the other members 
 of the company came in, those who seemed to be the 
 more important members, were received by him with 
 a kindness and politeness which showed that he was 
 not ignorant of the forms of polished society. This 
 man, whose manners and physical completeness, indi- 
 28 
 
326 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 cated a mind above the common rank, attracted my 
 attention much. There was a hidden language in his 
 intelligent countenance, in general carefully repressed, 
 but which at times seemed to say, " my nature does 
 not correspond to my situation. It is a hard or a sad 
 necessity, that of sincerity building upon error, which 
 has placed me here." 
 
 The members of the society were at first seated. 
 For a time they seemed to be occupied in serious 
 meditation. Then they arose. Sounds of rude music 
 were heard. Standing in a circle, they began their 
 singular ceremony, which they regard as a special act 
 of religion, with a slight but regular motion of the 
 head. The bowing of the head soon became more 
 rapid, and with a deeper inclination. Then came ex- 
 clamations and deep groanings. This went on pro- 
 gressively, till the regular and prescribed motion of 
 the company was broken in upon by the unrestrained 
 motion and contortions of individuals. The rapidity 
 of the motion, continued in this way for a long time, 
 caused a rush of blood to the head. They lost all 
 control of themselves, and a number of them fell upon 
 the floor in convulsions. One of them fell at my feet, 
 and as I saw him thus, deprived of consciousness, 
 and his body writhing convulsively, I felt that super- 
 stition, in whatever country and under whatever name, 
 is dishonorable to God, and a hard and cruel burden 
 to man. 
 
 At another time we witnessed another painful scene, 
 — that of the slave-market at Cairo. We had pre- 
 viously visited the slave-market in Alexandria, and 
 whatever opinions may have been entertained or ex- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 327 
 
 pressed to the contrary, we saw enough to convince 
 us that in Egypt the traffic in slaves continues in 
 much of its original vigor. The greater number of 
 the slaves whom we saw, were boys and girls from ten 
 to fifteen years of age, brought from Nubia, and other 
 countries on the upper parts of the Nile. Sad in 
 countenance, and half naked as they were, they flocked 
 around us with some appearance of animation and 
 zeal, as if desirous or hoping to be purchased. Their 
 conduct seemed to indicate on their part a conviction, 
 the origin of which they might perhaps have been 
 unable to explain, that their misery could not well 
 be increased, and might be alleviated by some such 
 change. 
 
 Among the objects especially worthy of being visi- 
 ted in Cairo, is the Citadel, a lofty, fortified rock in 
 the south part of the city, overlooking the city in its 
 whole extent, and furnishing a view of the valley of 
 the Nile, and of its towns and villages for many miles 
 southward, and north as far as the head of the Delta. 
 It seemed to us, as we stood upon this elevated po- 
 sition, wonderful in itself, and memorable in its his- 
 tory, with the Nile before us and mountains behind, 
 with an hundred minarets at our feet, and the vast 
 pyramids full in sight, that no other spot in this vi- 
 cinity opened such an impressive view. One of the 
 remarkable curiosities within the limits of the citadel, 
 is the celebrated well of Joseph, excavated in the solid 
 rock to the depth of two hundred and sixty feet, with 
 a winding staircase leading to the bottom. Day and 
 night strong oxen are turning the wheel of this deep 
 excavation, and pouring out the water from its inex- 
 
328 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 haustible fountain. This well, the history of which 
 has been the subject of much discussion, is generally 
 conceded to be one of the works of the ancient 
 Egyptians, but at what period it was made, is not 
 known. 
 
 Within the limits of the citadel is one of the nu- 
 merous palaces of the Pasha of Egypt, and also the 
 new mosque commenced by the late Mohammed AIL 
 This structure, enriched on every side with oriental 
 alabaster, is one of great size and beauty, though still 
 unfinished. Within its walls is the tomb of Moham- 
 med Ali, whose ashes have found a resting-place here ; 
 one of those men who leave their mark in the annals 
 of ages, by seizing power at any hazard and expense 
 of benevolence and of right ; and then by employing 
 it with almost the same energy, and the same disre- 
 gard of right, for what they choose to consider as the 
 general good. These men are the Caesars and Na- 
 poleons of history, renowned but problematical charac- 
 ters, who forget that success cannot justify crime, and 
 that a man of a true spirit, and most of all a man of 
 a truly conscientious and religious spirit, rejects and 
 abhors all favors and all goods, which are offered Mm 
 as the tyrant's compensation for the loss of a just and 
 honorable liberty. 
 
 There are two Egypts — the Egypt of the past and 
 the Egypt of the present. The Egypt of the past is 
 a mighty wreck, and her mutilated limbs are scattered 
 all along the banks of the Nile, from the Delta to the 
 mountains of Nubia. And the traveller seeks a know- 
 ledge of her greatness at Thebes, at Denderah, and at 
 Beni Hassan, rather than at Cairo. The modern Egypt 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 329 
 
 lives in the modern city. Its representative and its life 
 is Cairo. The stranger who visits it, is soon satisfied. 
 He passes through the narrow and crowded streets, 
 amid the agitations of passion and the urgencies of 
 business. He sees different and unknown races of men, 
 coming from distant regions, and variant in costume 
 and manners. He hears languages which he does not 
 understand. The community of the intellect, and es- 
 pecially of the heart which needs language for its ex- 
 pression, is obstructed and weakened. And in the 
 midst of a multitude he often feels himself to be in 
 the solitude of the desert. 
 
 The city of Cairo is divided into different Quarters, 
 as they are termed, which have their separate enclo- 
 sures and regulations. Having seen the mechanic 
 trades and the shops in these Quarters — the Jew's 
 Quarter, the Copt Quarter, the Armenian Quarter, 
 the Frank Quarter, and having visited the public 
 gardens and the citadel, and a few ancient and rich 
 mosques, which have their painful associations for 
 the Christian, the traveller finds but little either to 
 gratify or excite his curiosity. There are gatherings 
 of the populace around jugglers and mountebanks; 
 but there are no places of public resort, which are 
 suited to the wants of a serious and intelligent man. 
 Mind is not the growth of Cairo. The large public 
 libraries which are found in the cities of Europe and 
 America, many of which are easily accessible, are un- 
 known here. There are no reading rooms worthy of 
 the name, no public lectures, no places and assemblies 
 where great questions of a political, moral and con- 
 stitutional nature are discussed. The Nile still flows, 
 2S* 
 
330 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 but thought is stagnant. No Plato studies and medi- 
 tates at Heliopolis now. 
 
 The form of government, the predominant religion 
 of the country, and to some extent, the habits and pre- 
 judices of the people, are all averse to inquiry and 
 mental improvement. Their government, which is of 
 the nature of an absolute monarchy, may be charac- 
 terized as the tyranny of the body. Their religion, 
 which proscribes religious inquiry, and all change of 
 religious opinion, may be described, with hardly less 
 truth, as the tyranny of the mind. Science demands 
 liberty, and liberty demands Christianity. And it 
 seems to me, that in the present enlightened period, 
 they demand, not the Christianity which, starting 
 with good intentions, has become incarcerated and 
 fixed in the formalities of ages ; but rather the free, 
 simple, believing, and loving Christianity of the pure 
 and primitive days of its history. 
 
 In leaving these scenes, therefore, where there has 
 been so much to interest and please, I am obliged to 
 say that there is much of a different character, — much 
 to discourage the patriot, — much to try the faith of 
 the Christian. But the light of truth comes through 
 the instrumentality of prayer ; — and error, which stands 
 in the way of all true progress, can be corrected only 
 by light and love. The Christian should never forget 
 that God reigns ; and it is the privilege of the eye of 
 faith to behold the triumphs of the future, while the 
 natural eye, incapable of seeing things invisible, closes 
 itself in despair. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 331 
 
 (XXXVII.) 
 
 Departure from Cairo for the desert— Village of Bedouin Arabs— De- 
 sert of Suez — Its solitude and silence — Night scene — El Mugda- 
 la or Migdol of the Scriptures — The camel — Suez — An English 
 steamer — Cross the Red Sea — The sirocco — Arrival at the wells 
 of Moses. 
 
 WELLS OF MOSES, EASTERN SHORE OF THE RED SEA, 
 
 APRIL 1, 1853. 
 
 We left Cairo on the twenty-eighth day of March ; 
 — our destination Mount Sinai and Palestine. The 
 din of the crowded streets of the city soon died upon 
 our ears. The direction which we took led us in the 
 neighborhood of the lofty tombs of the Mameluke 
 kings, often denominated the tombs of the Caliphs. 
 We had already visited them ; and we only gave them 
 our parting look. They are situated beyond the nu- 
 merous tombs of the people which crowd the space 
 around the city gate ; — standing with dome and point- 
 ed minaret under the silent heights of Mokattam. 
 Their architecture is Saracenic ; and though they are 
 lofty and elaborated structures, they give but slight 
 indications of the vast resources and genius, which 
 characterize the Egypt of the days of Joseph and 
 Moses. All monuments, however, have a degree of 
 value, and these contain the dust of kings and con- 
 quering warriors, whose individual history has an in- 
 terest ; but they are still more interesting, as the me- 
 morials of the changes of dynasties and of the vicissi- 
 tudes of nations. 
 
 To the left of the tombs, and not far distant, is one 
 of the numerous palaces of the Pasha of Egypt. This 
 
332 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 too, we had already seen. Viewed at a distance, 
 it makes a fine appearance ; — bearing the marks of 
 modern European art. At a little distance further on, 
 and on the very edge of the desert, is a small village 
 of Bedouin Arabs. Their huts, similar in structure 
 to those of the Arabs of the Nile, are built around a 
 circular area. I gazed a moment upon this novel 
 scene. Wonderful are the sympathies which bind man 
 to man. I had seldom heard this people mentioned, 
 except in terms of distrust and condemnation. But I 
 found my heart strengthening and widening within 
 me, as if to understand and embrace to its centre, 
 notwithstanding these unfavorable intimations, this 
 new feature of a common humanity. An old man 
 with gray hairs addressed me. The women, occupied 
 in their humble employments, were seated at the doors 
 of the huts. The children were noisy and playful in 
 the open space. A camel, reposing its wearied form 
 on the sand, occupied its centre. 
 
 I passed on, casting a parting look at the long line 
 of verdure which marked in the distance the track of 
 the Nile. The vision, filled with new and strange 
 views of life and manners, had closed. In a few hours 
 we left all behind. 
 
 We form a caravan of more than twenty camels. 
 We carry our food and water with us. A vast expanse 
 of uncultivated wilderness is before us. Gardens and 
 trees, and fountains and flowers, and singing birds are 
 gone. Day after day passes on ; — monotonous, but 
 still not without interest. He, who has not been in 
 the desert, has not known all that the heart can feel. 
 It is the great prerogative of our nature to unfold it- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 
 
 333 
 
 self anew in every novelty of circumstance and situa- 
 tion. The desert speaks. It has a voice for the heart ; 
 and the heart answers. 
 
 The desert from Cairo to Suez is not in all respects 
 so destitute and lonely as the vast desert on the eas- 
 tern side of the Red Sea. There is something left. 
 Absolute death cannot be predicated of anything 
 except annihilation. From time to time are seen 
 shrubs and tufts of coarse grass ; but they furnish but 
 a slight relief to the general character of the scene. 
 I was surprised and pleased to find in some places a 
 green plant, which bore pods of an inch in length, 
 and which on pressing and breaking them were found 
 to be full of water. At the distance of forty miles 
 from Cairo, we sat down under a large acacia tree ; — ■ 
 the first tree which we had noticed for that distance. 
 It is difficult to understand the secret of its growth 
 in such a place. Such exceptions cannot make these 
 vast solitudes otherwise than a desert. 
 
 Animal life dies as well as vegetable. It is true that 
 it is possible in the course of some days to get sight 
 of a snail, which is found in some localities and which 
 has discovered the secret of attaching itself to the 
 few shrubs of the region and extracting their mois- 
 ture ; — or to cross the path of a beetle groping its way 
 in the heated sand ; — or to startle the solitude of a 
 lizard, which has contrived to live among the rocks. 
 But in general the desolation is perfect. Locality 
 exists. Life is in exile. 
 
 Marching over wide and arid plains, and with hills 
 and mountains of rock and sand in sight, we go on 
 from day to day. The eye rests upon forms, not upon 
 
334 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 life ; but forms are the background of beauty ; and 
 imagination sometimes fills up the picture. Succes- 
 sive hours tell our progress. The march becomes 
 wearisome ; but the setting sun brings rest. Turning 
 from the narrow beaten paths which constitute the 
 roads of the desert, and seeking a retired and shel- 
 tered place, we pitch our tents for the night. This 
 also is a new scene ; but it has the associations of 
 antiquity and religion. The Patriarchs dwelt in tents. 
 Paul was a tent-maker. As we hear the sound of the 
 hammer, we know what it is, when it is required of 
 Zion, " to lengthen her cords and strengthen her 
 stakes." The Arabs shelter themselves under the piles 
 of luggage. And if the evening is cool, they build a 
 fire. They form themselves in little assemblies ; and 
 if they travel in comparative silence by day, they are 
 noisy as laugh and song can make them, in their so- 
 cial groups in the early part of night. The camels, 
 weary with the heat and toils of the day, lie down at 
 their side and are fed. They then prepare their own 
 humble meal. 
 
 It was thus day after day and night after night. At 
 a certain time, being little inclined to sleep in the 
 novelty of such a situation, I walked out at midnight. 
 The moon was in all its brightness. The sky, with- 
 out a cloud to suggest the idea of form or limitation, 
 seemed vast as eternity ; and being studded all over 
 with stars, it was bright with the brightness of God. 
 The camels, stretched out at length upon the ground, 
 were large dark shadows in the moonlight. The men 
 slept at their side. There was no sound. But the 
 soul heard the silence. I have stood at the foot of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 335 
 
 Niagara ; — I have listened to the deep moaning sound 
 of the vast forests of my native land ; I have been on 
 the ocean when each wave had its voice and that voice 
 was thunder ; but these great voices entered less deeply 
 into the ear of the spirit than the mighty silence of 
 the desert at midnight. At such a time the soul opens 
 its capacities. It magnifies and expands itself in the 
 greatness of its dilated conceptions ; and takes hold 
 of eternity ; and in the voice which is then sent forth 
 — a voice uttered in brightness without a shadow, in 
 vastness without limit, in harmony without variation, 
 it hears the proclamation, so dear to every holy soul, 
 of the unutterable tranquillity of God. 
 
 At the distance of sixty-four miles from Cairo, we 
 passed the place called El Mugdala, supposed by 
 many to be the Migdol of the Scriptures, which is 
 mentioned in connection with the departure of the Is- 
 raelites from Egypt. History always adds interest to 
 a place. I stopped a moment to look at Migdol, if 
 such it was ; but it was only a repetition of desola- 
 tion. I noticed no buildings at the place — nothing 
 but two barren hills of considerable size. We passed 
 on. The Red Sea is not far distant. Our course 
 from Cairo to Mugdala had been nearly east ; but the 
 road after leaving these hills runs in a southerly direc- 
 tion towards the sea till it reaches Suez. 
 
 The line of our route was marked from time to 
 time with the bones of camels. This too brought with 
 it its train of thoughts. God, who made the desert, 
 fitted the camel to it. I will not assert that the camel 
 is beautiful ; though on the principles of Hogarth, 
 who justly ascribes so much attraction to a curving 
 
336 LETTERS iESTHETIC, 
 
 outline, he ought not to be wanting in beauty. His 
 large spongy hoof is suited to the sand and gravel. 
 He eats but little, and carries his own supply of water. 
 He bears immense burdens over the burning sands, 
 and is generally tractable in his disposition. When 
 his master loads him, he utters an amicable growl in 
 protestation against any oppressive adjustments ; but 
 with a fair load and kind treatment he rises manfully 
 to his task and patiently bears the heat and burden of 
 the day. 
 
 The Bedouin loves his camel. When we started 
 from Cairo, a large number of camels were brought 
 out, which we were to try by riding ; and were to 
 make a selection from them for ourselves. I told our 
 Shekh that I should leave the selection of mine to 
 him. With the true spirit of an Arab, who never fails 
 to return all the confidence which is given him, he as- 
 signed me one of the best among his own. Repeat- 
 edly I saw him in the course of our journey turn his 
 own wearied feet aside, and gather the coarse grass 
 of the desert, and then come and feed his camel from 
 his hand, and utter words of recognition and kindness 
 which were well understood between them. I could 
 easily understand, that there was a relationship of 
 hearts, as well as of interests. 
 
 The camel, like everything else, has his history ; — 
 his place, his habits, his labors, his sorrows, his youth, 
 his age. He labors faithfully. In his old age he lays 
 down his burden, and turns aside to die. He says to 
 his master with all the power of utterance which a 
 camel possesses ; — " My hour is come. I shall no 
 longer bear my master's burden, nor sleep beside his 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 337 
 
 tknt. Dying, I remember the hand that fed me. Let 
 me go to my last rest." His master's heart under- 
 stands this sad language ; and he takes the cord from 
 his faithful servant's neck. Wearied and staggering, 
 he gets away to a retired place under the mountains ; 
 eats something which he finds, or if he does not find 
 it, he patiently does without it ; and in a few days or 
 even hours he dies. When I saw his bones, scattered 
 on the sands and beneath the mountains, I felt that I 
 knew something of his history. His master goes home 
 to his hut ; he tells the old camel's fate to his children ; 
 they have seen him for the last time. He has died, 
 but he is not forgotten. 
 
 A little beyond Migdol the Red Sea came in sight. 
 Narrow, and lined with sands often of a reddish color, 
 it runs back into the desert on the easterly side of Suez 
 some eight or ten miles. Between this portion of the 
 Red Sea, and the lofty barren mountains, which turn 
 down from the pass of Migdol on its western side, is 
 a large level plain, not less than twelve miles in cir- 
 cuit. In the opinion of some learned men, it was on 
 this plain that the Israelites were hemmed in between 
 the mountains on one side and the sea and the vast 
 burning deserts on the other, with the king of Egypt 
 and his furious chariots in the rear. If so, the Lord 
 opened the sea, for the passage of the Israelites and 
 for the destruction of their pursuers not far from Suez. 
 It is the opinion of other biblical archaeologists, that 
 this great occurrence took place some ten or twelve 
 miles lower down, opposite the wells of Moses, where 
 the sea is wider and deeper. At one of these places 
 it is generally conceded, that the miracle took place. 
 29 
 
338 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 His people cried unto the Lord ; and the Lord heard 
 them. In the language of Scripture the Lord tri- 
 umphed gloriously. The horse and his rider were 
 thrown into the sea. 
 
 We found Suez a place of some business. Much of 
 the travel between the East Indies and England pas- 
 ses through it. There were many vessels here of small 
 size. An English steamer, which had arrived two days 
 before, floated proudly a few miles below. We passed 
 the sea at Suez in a boat. Soon after landing, and 
 when we were hardly seated upon our camels, the 
 wind began to rise, the wind of the desert, the much 
 dreaded Sirocco. In the course of half an hour, it 
 increased to a whirlwind. The agitated sea was hid- 
 den from our sight. The barren mountains on the left 
 were no longer seen. The violence of the wind lifted 
 the vast masses of sand, and they rolled by in torrents. 
 The faithful camels, true to their duty and their des- 
 tination, struggled on. The cry of the Arabs encour- 
 aged them ; till blinded with dust, and overcome in 
 this unequal effort, we were glad to find a stopping- 
 place and a place of refuge at the wells of Moses. 
 
 We left Cairo on Monday, the twenty-eighth of 
 March, and reached the wells of Moses on the after- 
 noon of Friday, the first day of April. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 339 
 
 (XXXVIII.) 
 
 Arrival at the wells of Moses — Gardens and fountains — Next day's 
 encampment — Sabbath in the wilderness — Religious emotions — 
 The bitter fountain of Marah — Valley of Elim — Wadee Ghurun- 
 del — Meeting with an old Bedouin — Ascent of Sarabiet-El-Ivha- 
 dem — Egyptian temple — Mount Sinai — Reflections. 
 
 DESERT OF THE RED SEA, PLAIN OF EL-KHADEM, 
 
 APRIL 6, 1853. 
 
 I wrote in my last letter, that we had reached the 
 Wells of Moses. This is the name given to what has 
 the appearance of a little village ; — consisting of a 
 number of gardens and small houses, fenced with an 
 enclosure made partly of stones and in part of stalks 
 and reeds. They occupy a rising piece of ground, 
 nearly a mile in length by less than a quarter of a mile 
 in width. The gardens are watered from the remark- 
 able fountains which are found there. The fountains, 
 as we were informed, are seventeen in number ; and 
 probably the number might be increased by additional 
 excavations. The water is brackish, but is used by 
 the people of the place. In the gardens are cultiva- 
 ted the vegetables which are common in Egypt. A 
 few flowers were in bloom. The trees are acacias and 
 pomegranates with a few palms. Some of the palms 
 are outside of the enclosure. The white sand of the 
 desert had drifted around them. They do not rise 
 high, and throw out their lofty and waving tufts, like 
 the palms of the Nile. It was pleasant, however, to 
 see a tree or flower, even with diminished beauty. 
 As I walked in the gardens, I heard once more the 
 
340 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 singing of birds. It reminded me of the gardens of 
 Cairo. 
 
 In this interesting spot, associated with the name 
 of the great leader of the Israelites in their memora- 
 ble march over these very places, we were glad to find 
 a refuge from the storm of scorching wind and sand 
 which I mentioned in my last letter. The place is in 
 sight of the Red Sea, — situated on its eastern shore, 
 and twelve miles from Suez. On the opposite side 
 of the sea, and in full sight of the place, where we 
 lodged, are lofty mountains with a pass between them, 
 through which the sea can be approached. It was 
 Friday when we reached there. The next day we 
 marched twenty miles further, and pitched our tents 
 in a little valley ; the Red Sea a mile and a half dis- 
 tant on our right. It was a solitary place ; — no vege- 
 tation, no dwellings, no man or woman out of our 
 little circle, no beast or bird, no flowers, no trees. 
 The Arabs drove their camels to another place, where 
 they expected to find something for them to eat. 
 
 We spent the Sabbath here. It was a good Sab- 
 bath to me. Is it wrong for me to speak sometimes 
 of my religious emotions ; — and to say in connection 
 with them that God dwells in the desert ; — and to 
 rejoice that my soul, cut off from some of its dearest 
 earthly sympathies, had sweet communion with him ; 
 — the nothings if I may so express it, with the All and 
 the Universal, the finite with the Infinite ? How could 
 it be otherwise? God, who is a present and living 
 spirit, always speaks ; and if there is not communion 
 with Him, it is because the heart is too dull to hear. 
 It is true, He speaks in the " still, small voice," and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 341 
 
 i 
 
 very often the noises of the world, the contentions 
 within and without, prevent his being heard. But 
 what noise is here ? Even the sound of the cricket's 
 note is banished. The desert is the empire of silence. 
 The heart, keeping pace with the eye, widens with the 
 immensity around it. The mind is open to the slight- 
 est influences. The smallest whispers of the Almighty 
 come distinct to the soul. And I should do injustice 
 to the instincts of remembrance and gratitude, if I 
 did not say, that I found them the whispers and the 
 divine accents of love. 
 
 The cold by night, the heat by day, 
 
 The feverish pulse, the aching head, 
 
 Let these or other ills array, 
 
 As thus I trace the desert's way, 
 
 Their thorns around the path I tread. 
 
 But never, never may I know 
 
 That grief of deepest agony, 
 Which carries with it more than woe, 
 The spirit's hopeless overthrow, 
 
 The grief of being left of Thee. 
 
 We were now on the track of the Israelites, as they 
 Went from Egypt to the promised land. The next 
 day about noon we came to Marah, and drank of its 
 bitter fountain. It is known to the people of the de- 
 sert by the Arabic name Ain Howarah. This is the 
 place spoken of in the book of Exodus. "And when 
 they came to Marah, they could not drink of the wa- 
 ters of Marah, for they were bitter. Therefore the 
 name of it was called Marah." The fountain of Ma- 
 rah is in a rock on a small hill, with other large scat- 
 tered rocks near. It is a picturesque place. There are 
 a few trees and shrubs around. The camels browsed 
 29* 
 
342 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 among them. The trees are small in size ; — chiefly 
 acacias, and of that hardy and durable species, called 
 the sont acacia. We all drank of the water. It is 
 brackish, like the water of the Wells of Moses ; but 
 it has also a bitter taste. This is one of the places 
 where the people murmured against God. How hard 
 it is, even amid the most wonderful manifestations of 
 the power and goodness of God, to learn the lesson 
 of simple and unwavering trust ! 
 
 Next day at a little less than twenty miles distance 
 we came to Elim. This also is one of the places 
 mentioned in the Scriptures, in the account of the 
 departure of the Israelites. It is a long and pleasant 
 valley, with numerous palm-trees, generally small in 
 size, and with fountains of water ; — but only a few 
 of the fountains are open and accessible. The water 
 is good — unlike that of Marah and the Wells of Mo- 
 ses. The statement in Exodus is this, "And they 
 came to Elim, where were twelve wells of water, and 
 threescore and ten palmtrees ; and they encamped 
 there by the waters." There is said to be another 
 place, not far distant and still more pleasant, which 
 has its claims to be regarded as the Elim of the Scrip- 
 tures. 
 
 The next day we came into a rocky and mountain- 
 ous region, destitute of trees and with but little water ; 
 — a sort of entrance porch to the wild mountainous 
 region of Sinai. In all these regions there are wide 
 mountain passes, running in different directions, the 
 origin of which may perhaps be satisfactorily. account- 
 ed for on geological principles, but which, viewed in 
 another and not less interesting aspect, may be regar- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 343 
 
 ded as left open by the foresight of Providence for 
 the convenience of man. Without them the region 
 would be impassable. In a region so difficult or so 
 desolate that a bird is scarcely seen to fly there, man 
 has great need of such natural openings. Sometimes 
 they are steep and narrow. More frequently they are 
 wide and level, easy to the foot of the camel, and 
 presenting, in the rocky and richly diversified ridges 
 that border them on both sides, a ceaseless source of 
 pleasure to the traveller. The direction which we 
 took led us through one of these wide mountain roads, 
 called the Wadee Ghurundel. 
 
 We had learned, that in one of the mountains situa- 
 ted in the vicinity of the pass of Ghurundel, were 
 still to be seen the remains of an ancient Egyptian 
 temple. Meeting an Arab who was coming through 
 the pass, we learned from him, that he was acquaint- 
 ed with the locality of these ruins. This man lived 
 among the rocks. He looked as wild and desolate as 
 the places where he lived. His feet were bare. The 
 sun had burnt blackness into his countenance. He 
 had a gun in his hand ; and part of his dress was a 
 sheep-skin. Under the leadership of this wild-looking 
 but faithful old Bedouin, I went with Mr. Thompson 
 in search of this old Egyptian temple. Our friends, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Walcott, proceeded on to the place of 
 our encampment. 
 
 We first ascended the side of a mountain for a con- 
 siderable distance ; — and then, passing the head of a 
 deep gorge, reached the side of another mountain. 
 Here we ascended still higher, but with great difficul- 
 ty ; — sometimes obliged to creep along on our hands 
 
344 LETTERS J2STHET1C, 
 
 and feet on projecting points of rock, not more than 
 two or three feet in width, over precipices hundreds 
 of feet in depth. Repeatedly we passed from moun- 
 tain to mountain at the head of deep gorges, which 
 rose successively one above another. As near as we 
 could judge, we proceeded in this circuitous and peril- 
 ous way a distance of two miles. The scene was as 
 terrific as deep caverns, and rocks piled one above 
 another, and blackness and desolation and the inten- 
 sity of silence, could make it. Through excessive 
 fatigue we were inclined at times to abandon our en- 
 terprise and go back again ; but our old Bedouin, 
 feeling that an Arab's honor was at stake, encouraged 
 us to proceed. At last we reached the summit of the 
 mountain. And we felt at once, that we were repaid 
 for our trouble. 
 
 Such a place, with such monuments and associa- 
 tions attached to it, could not be without a name. 
 We learned that it is called by the Arabs, the moun- 
 tain of Sarabiet-El-Khadem ; but without ascertain- 
 ing that the name throws any light on its history. 
 A pile of rocks in the sky, overlooking the surround- 
 ing heights, it presented, as we looked with wonder on 
 every side, a prospect of great sublimity. It was here, 
 on the long level space on its top, remote from human 
 footsteps and which the eagle's wing did not fan, 
 that we found the remains of the Egyptian temple, 
 which had been the object of our search. It was a 
 temple erected to the Egyptian god Athor, whose "gra- 
 ven image" we had so often seen in the sculptures on 
 the temples of the Nile. In long ages past the ham- 
 mer of the workman had been here. Excavated in 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 345 
 
 part from the solid rock, it was originally an edifice 
 of very considerable extent ; and it still exhibits in its 
 finely sculptured walls and its remaining columns the 
 art, and the untiring industry, of which we had seen 
 such striking evidences in other places. 
 
 It was to me an affecting thought, that the blind- 
 ness of superstition, groping after the truth but una- 
 ble to find it, had thus climbed these almost inacces- 
 sible heights. 
 
 In connection with this temple we noticed what we 
 had not observed elsewhere. Erected at short distan- 
 ces from each other, were numerous tablets of stone, 
 from four to five feet high, straight at the sides and 
 oval at the top, and covered with hieroglyphics. This 
 remarkable place has been visited by travellers, learn- 
 ed in Egyptian antiquities, though but very seldom. 
 Judging from the inscriptions which have been found 
 upon its walls and upon the tablets connected with it, 
 among which are discovered the names of Ositarsen 
 and Thothmes, they appear to have come to the con- 
 clusion that this temple existed as far back as the 
 time of Moses, and probably at an earlier period. 
 
 But this was not the only object, which arrested 
 our attention and which gave a character to our 
 thoughts here. Far beyond the intervening moun- 
 tains, the lofty peaks of Sinai rose sublimely in the 
 distance. God has never deserted the world, and 
 never ceased to be merciful. In all ages of the world 
 he has spoken to men, in order that they may have 
 wisdom. It was on the sacred heights of Sinai now 
 seen by us for the first time, and in view of the tem- 
 ple and the worship where we stood, that Jehovah, 
 
346 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 speaking in flame and thunder as well as by the voice 
 of the Hebrew shepherd, condemned, not Egyptian 
 art but Egyptian idolatry, not Egyptian genius but 
 Egypt's debased and cruel superstition, and all idola- 
 try and all " graven images," and all gods that are 
 not the " true God," in all countries and in all ages. 
 The place, the recollections, the vast antiquity sculp- 
 tured and living in the rocks, man's mingled greatness 
 and weakness, the light and skill of science and art 
 overshadowed and dishonored by the groping dark- 
 ness of the religious affections when God does not 
 guide them, heathenism in its best estate and heath- 
 enism judged and condemned, the past uniting itself 
 with the present and reaching forth to the future, time 
 with its changes and eternity with its immutable rela- 
 tions ; — such various objects and reflections, crowding 
 upon the mind at once, could not fail to excite within 
 me conflicting and strong emotions. 
 
 It was near the close of the day when we began 
 to come down. We descended in part by a nearer 
 route, and over still more precipitous places. The 
 sun, hidden by the lofty cliffs, shed his parting rays. 
 Long lines of shadow stretched darkly from the rocks. 
 Our camels awaited us at the foot of the mountain. 
 It was now dark. Our Arab, who was familiar with 
 these places, knew the way we were to take. Thought 
 took the place of conversation. We followed in the 
 silent starlight the track of our friends who had gone 
 before us. It was pleasant to see once more the light 
 of our encampment. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 347 
 
 (XXXIX.) 
 
 Arrival at the Shekh's village — The Shekh's son — Shepherd girls — 
 Character of the Arabs — Pass of Niekeb Hawy — Plain of El 
 Kahah — Peak of Sussafeh — Arrival at the Greek Convent at the 
 base of Mount Sinai. 
 
 GREEK CONVENT, BASE OF MOUNT SINAI, APRIL 9, 1853. 
 
 In my last letter I gave a concise sketch of our 
 journey from the wells of Moses to the plain of El 
 Khadem. A little before we left our little caravan for 
 the purpose of ascending the mountain of El Khadem, 
 it turned off in another direction towards a large plain 
 not far distant. Our Shekh, whose name is Seely- 
 man, resides on the edge of this plain. He is the 
 Shekh or hereditary chief of a tribe of the Tor Arabs, 
 who hold all the country in the vicinity of Mount 
 Sinai ; — in subordination, however, to the Pasha of 
 Egypt. It is in the little valley on the borders of the 
 plain that the Arabs of Seelyman have their princi- 
 pal village ; where they find water and a little her- 
 bage for their sheep and goats. 
 
 The communication had gone in advance of us, that 
 our company was approaching. The Shekh, who is 
 a man of moderate size, but like every other Bedouin, 
 walks erectly and with a firm step, felt the dignity of 
 the occasion, as well as its domestic interest. At the 
 head of the expedition entrusted to his care, which 
 magnified itself in the eyes of these poor Arabs, he 
 put on the long red robe which he had bought at 
 Cairo, as he came near to the tents of his people and 
 the home of his wife and children. With his girdle 
 
348 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 around him, his short sword at his side, and his 
 white turban, and turning neither to the right hand 
 nor the left, Shekh Seelyman passed in front of his 
 people's humble dwellings to the place which his fore- 
 sight and a regard for our convenience had selected 
 for our encampment. The women stood at the door 
 of the tents, and were glad to look upon the faces of 
 their husbands and brothers. They too had hearts. 
 To them, who had never left the shade of the neigh- 
 boring hills, Cairo was a distant place ; and the ab- 
 sence of their friends had been long. The children 
 too shared in the joy of this beneficent and unusual 
 advent. The little boy of the Shekh, about ten years 
 of age, with a mild but beautiful countenance, and 
 dressed especially for the occasion, was placed upon 
 the back of a camel, and carried in triumph to the 
 encampment. 
 
 As I mentioned in my last letter, those of our party 
 who had ascended Sarabiet-El-Khadem, arrived at the 
 encampment after dark. I was not present, therefore, 
 when the Shekh reached the village of his tribe; but 
 learned what I have now said from our associates 
 who had gone before us. The Shekh, however, called 
 upon us in a few moments after our arrival in the 
 evening. His little son, whom I have already men- 
 tioned, was with him. The just pride of a father 
 glistened in the eye of Seelyman, as he brought his 
 boy to our tent. We had the pleasure of being in- 
 troduced to him ; and looked with no small interest 
 on this young eagle of the desert, as he stood mod- 
 estly but firmly before us. What thoughts, what feel- 
 ings, what destinies, if I may so speak, were hidden 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 349 
 
 in the mind of this small boy ! In these still soli- 
 tudes, unknown to generous culture, he will grow up, 
 without books, without a knowledge of the name of 
 Jesus Christ, under influences the power of which it 
 is difficult to estimate ; — the subject of hopes and 
 joys, of sorrows and passions both good and evil, 
 which constitute him a world in himself; — a world 
 which not only has its beginning, but its progress and 
 its immortality. As I beheld his intelligent counte- 
 nance, and as my imagination unrolled the uncertain- 
 ties of the future, it was natural that I should feel a 
 sympathy in his situation and a sincere desire for his 
 welfare. 
 
 Two young girls, who had been absent during the 
 day on the side of the mountain, were returning home 
 with their flock of sheep and goats when our tents 
 were pitched. One of them was a relative of Seely- 
 man. They turned aside to participate for a short 
 time in this new and exciting scene, influenced per- 
 haps by the novelty of the occasion, as well as by af- 
 fection to their friends. They had ornaments on their 
 arms and heads ; and as they looked once more upon 
 those whom they loved, they seemed to be conscious, 
 that beauty has power even among the sands and rocks 
 of El Khadem. That night the fires shone brightly 
 and beautifully in all the tents of the tribe. The stars 
 above them were not brighter. There was joy in the 
 hearts of the people of Seelyman. 
 
 I have repeatedly had occasion to speak in favora- 
 ble terms of the Arabs, into whose company we fell ; 
 — both those of the Nile and those of the desert. In- 
 tellectually, it is true, that the Arab race may properly 
 30 
 
350 - LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 be regarded as inferior to the other races, which are 
 found in these regions. Their countenances are less 
 intelligent than those of the Copt, the Turk, and the 
 Armenian; and their national history, though not 
 without its distinguished names in science and litera- 
 ture, is characterized more by the achievements of 
 war, than by the trophies of art and knowledge. It 
 is not easy to look upon the remains of Arabian or 
 Saracenic architecture, (terms which in the history of 
 the nation are often used as convertible,)without feel- 
 ing that they are works, as compared with the re- 
 mains of Greek and Roman and also of Assyrian and 
 Egyptian art, which indicate less greatness of con- 
 ception, and less simplicity and purity of taste. But 
 the Arab, if inferior in quickness and breadth of per- 
 ception so that he has found it difficult in the most 
 favored periods of his national history to reach the 
 highest achievements of science and art, possesses, 
 nevertheless, a generous sociality of nature. His do- 
 mestic affections are strong. He loves his own family; 
 and he does not appear to be wanting more than oth- 
 ers in the love of his neighbor. Everywhere and in 
 all places, if you penetrate the depths of his nature 
 so as to find the secret sentiments which are lurking 
 there, you will discover also a strong sense and spirit 
 of independence. His very being opposes itself to 
 that form of authority, which circumscribes and tram- 
 mels liberty. Undoubtedly the Bedouin Arabs, who 
 inhabit the deserts and live a wandering life, give suf- 
 ficient evidence of wild and untractable dispositions ; 
 — and I am obliged to admit, that it would not be 
 easy to measure them by the common standards of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 351 
 
 civil and political legality. The Bedouin, perhaps 
 more than almost any other race of men, has the eye 
 and the step of a freeman. And I must confess there 
 is something which pleases me much in this indomi- 
 table spirit, which prefers the rock and the cavern 
 with liberty, to the cultivated field and the palace 
 without it. But neither the Arab of the city nor of 
 the desert, so far as I can perceive, can be rightly 
 charged with the injustice, cruelty and faithlessness, 
 which have been so freely alleged against him ; and 
 certainly not to the extent, in which the charge has 
 been made. 
 
 It is not always safe to judge of men from the 
 representations of others. In order to judge them 
 accurately, we must know them. But knowledge is 
 the result of intercourse and confidence. In order to 
 know them, therefore, we must love them. Let the 
 Arab be judged by these tests, — fierce and jealous as 
 his comparative ignorance and poverty have contribu- 
 ted to make him, — and it will be seen, that he has 
 his good as well as his unfavorable traits ; and that 
 hearts can be found beneath the dark tents of the 
 Bedouins, which can be trained to virtue, and be en- 
 nobled by affection. 
 
 I hope you will excuse this irregular and incidental 
 method of writing. We spent the night on the plain. 
 Early the next morning we started for Sinai, whose 
 lofty peak we had seen from the top of Sarabiet-El- 
 Khadem. Our Shekh had directions to take the 
 short route, which would enable us to approach Sinai 
 through the plain of El Rah ah. Leaving, therefore, 
 the course, which would have brought us to Sinai 
 
352 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 through the comparatively pleasant route of Wady 
 Feiran and Wady Esch Shekh, we followed the rug- 
 ged and difficult mountain pass of Niekeb Hawy ; 
 which means, 1 believe, the Pass of the Winds. We 
 had reasons which justified us in taking this route ;— 
 and if it is attended with much fatigue and some 
 danger, I think it can be justly added, that it amply 
 repays all by its wild and stupendous scenery. The 
 first day we passed over a portion of the desert, marked 
 by its usual characteristics of heated sand and gravel, 
 without water, and without tree or flower. On the 
 second day after a few miles travel, we entered the 
 mountain pass which I have mentioned ; and were 
 shut in for some eight or ten miles by vast rocks on 
 each side piled one above another, immense, rugged, 
 and rising so high that they shut out the light of the 
 sun. For a long time the winding path which we took, 
 kept continually ascending ; but while we went up, 
 the mountains around us did not seem to diminish 
 their elevation ; but kept pace, if I may so express it, 
 with each step of our own ascent, and rose higher 
 and higher ; while deep caverns began to open at our 
 side, and below us. The foot of the camel trembled 
 on the edge of precipices ; and the admiration which 
 we could not help experiencing was sometimes min- 
 gled with the sense of danger. At last the door of 
 this great mountain cavity opened before us, and with 
 slow and cautious steps we descended from its lofty 
 and rugged bosom into the memorable plain of El 
 Kalian. 
 
 The plain of El Rah ah, which has become an ob- 
 ject of much interest to travellers in consequence of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 353 
 
 its connection with biblical history, is two miles and 
 a half in length by an average of three fourths of a 
 mile in breadth ; uneven in some places, but generally 
 level; having a little herbage and some shrubs upon 
 which camels and goats can feed ; and suitable by 
 means of its hard surface of clean gravel for the en- 
 campment of a people dwelling in tents. It is bound- 
 ed at its south-eastern extremity by Mount Sinai, 
 where it is approached and entered by the wide and 
 level Wady, which bears the name of Esch Shekh. 
 The Israelites, in their memorable march through the 
 wilderness, having met and defeated on their way the 
 warlike Amalekites, appear to have entered the plain 
 of El Rahah through this Wady ; — filling not only 
 the whole plain but some of the neighboring valleys, 
 in front of that dark and lofty mountain, which was 
 soon to be robed with the lightnings and to be shaken 
 with the voice of God. 
 
 It was into this plain that we had now descended 
 from the rocky bosom of Niekeb Hawy. Mt. Sinai 
 was before us. With such remembrances, and in the 
 sight of such localities, the mind would not be true 
 to itself, if it did not turn from the outward to the 
 inward. On the side of the plain a flock of goats 
 was feeding. Here and there a camel plucked the 
 thistle that grew in the crevices of the cliffs. But the 
 eye and the heart seemed to be closed to outward 
 nature. Silent we rode over the plain, and in sight 
 of this sacred mountain ; — listening to the secret as- 
 pirations of our immortal natures ; thoughtful as if 
 its fires were yet burning and its mighty voices were 
 even now sounding in our ears, Such a moment, 
 30* 
 
354 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 striking deep by its suggestions and sympathies 
 into man's moral and immortal nature, is an era in • 
 his life. If he is a Christian, he knows that the an- 
 nouncements made from that mountain and in pre- 
 sence of the vast multitude assembled upon the plain 
 which he is traversing, have connections with his own 
 destiny, which his own limited mind cannot penetrate, 
 and which are deep as the bosom of the Infinite. 
 
 It was at the close of the day when our camels came 
 under that portion of Sinai, which bounds the south- 
 eastern extremity of the plain. This part of Sinai, 
 lifting itself perpendicularly above the plain, consti- 
 tutes a distinct and lofty elevation. The Arabs, in 
 allusion to a few willow trees which grow near it, 
 have given it the name of the peak of Sussafeh. The 
 last rays of the sun glittered on its rocky summit. 
 Advancing a little farther, we descried at a small dis- 
 tance an opening in the mountains, which gave signs 
 of the residence of men. That night, for the first 
 time since we left Suez, we did not sleep in tents. 
 The piety of primitive ages, holding in veneration 
 the locality which God had honored, had erected a 
 habitation. Entering the narrow valley between the 
 eastern base of Sinai and the mountain E-Dayr, 
 which bears the name of the valley of Shu-Eib, we 
 made our way to the ancient convent of St. Cathe- 
 rine. Its solid walls reminded us of distant ages, 
 when man had less confidence in his fellow-man. 
 The monks opened its doors; — and wearied by toils 
 of the body, and hardly less by memories and emo- 
 tions of the mind, we found a place of rest. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 355 
 
 (XL.) 
 
 Greek Convent — Situation and extent — St. Catherine — Of the use of 
 the terms Horeb and Sinai — Visit to the valley of El-Leja— Sinai- 
 tic inscriptions — Rock of Moses — Ascent of Mount Sinai — Grotto 
 of Moses — Chapel of Elijah — Remarks on traditions — View from 
 the summit of Sinai — Descent from Jebel Musa or peak of Moses 
 to the peak of Sussafeh — The giving of the Law — Return to the 
 Convent. * 
 
 GREEK CONVENT, MOUNT SINAI, SECOND LETTER. 
 
 In my last I mentioned, that we had reached the 
 Greek Convent at the foot of Mount Sinai. Its loca- 
 tion is in the narrow and comparatively fertile valley 
 of Shu-Eib ; — the place, which an old tradition desig- 
 nates as the residence, or rather one of the residences 
 of Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses. The convent 
 is situated, therefore, on the eastern side of Sinai, 
 and between Sinai on one side and the high rocky 
 mountain E-Dayr on the other. It is surrounded by 
 a high and thick wall, with towers ; and it seemed to 
 me, with the great strength of its enclosure and with 
 here and there a projecting cannon frowning darkly 
 upon those without, to be as well adapted and per- 
 haps more so, to military than to religious and eco- 
 nomical purposes. 
 
 "Within the limits of the convent, which is quad- 
 rangular though somewhat irregular in form, and 
 about two hundred feet in extent on each side, are a 
 number of small open areas or courts, in some of which 
 vegetables and flowers are cultivated and a few trees 
 are growing. Around it on the inside, and in differ- 
 ent parts of the building, are the small cells, which 
 are occupied by the monks. Contracted in size, and 
 
356 LETTERS JSSTHETIC, 
 
 almost entirely destitute of furniture, they are un- 
 doubtedly suited to the limited wants and the unam- 
 bitious life of their occupants ; but they can be con- 
 sidered comfortable only by those, who accept of in- 
 conveniences as a means of the fulfilment of a sup- 
 posed duty. In the upper story of the building are 
 rooms on a larger scale for travellers, fitted up with 
 low divans running round three sides, and with a 
 pleasant piazza in front of them. Attached to the 
 convent on the north side, and entered by a low pas- 
 sage which leads under the northern wall, is a well 
 cultivated garden, running a little distance down the 
 valley of Shu-Eib. This garden, with its almond and 
 apricot trees, its mulberries and its tall dark cypresses, 
 is an attractive object as it is first seen by the traveller, 
 when he comes in from the desolate country around. 
 The monks, who are few in number at the present 
 time, received us kindly, and assigned us such rooms 
 as are usually appropriated to visitants. They showed 
 us their church, — an ancient building rich in archi- 
 tectural ornaments ; and whatever objects they con- 
 sidered of special interest connected with it : — such 
 as the tomb of St. Catherine and the reputed place of 
 the burning bush mentioned in Exodus. The convent, 
 venerable by its antiquity and its historical reminis- 
 cences, bears the name of St. Catherine. This is the 
 name of a rich and noble lady of the city of Alexan- 
 dria, renowned for her learning as well as her devoted 
 piety. She was one of the early worthies of the Greek 
 and Roman churches, who suffered martyrdom for her 
 religion; and her memory is cherished with distin- 
 guished honor. The origin of the convent which bears 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 357 
 
 her name, is involved in some obscurity ; but it is 
 generally understood to have been founded by the 
 emperor Justinian. Its location, its structure, its as- 
 sociations, all render it an object of interest. The 
 monks, who are under the direction of a Superior re- 
 siding here, probably do not differ much from the 
 same class of persons found in other situations. They 
 have the appearance of being assiduous and sincere 
 in the performance of the religious duties prescribed 
 by the Greek faith ; but without giving evidence of 
 much intellectual culture. But this is probably the 
 fault of their situation, as much as of their disposi- 
 tions. One of them complained to me that they had 
 but very few books of value, though I noticed in one 
 of their cells a few volumes of the Greek Fathers. 
 
 It may be proper here, in order to avoid confusion 
 hereafter, to make a single remark in relation to some 
 of the geographical terms, which I may have occasion 
 to employ. I refer particularly to the terms Horeb 
 and Sinai. I think there is ground, without stopping 
 at this time to give reasons for it, for regarding Horeb 
 as a general term, somewhat indefinite in its use, but 
 still particularly applicable to the group of mountain 
 heights in the immediate vicinity of El-Rahah, and of 
 course including Mount Sinai. The name Sinai, as 
 it seems to me, should be employed in a more definite 
 and limited manner ; and as applicable, not to a series 
 or group of heights occupying a considerable extent 
 of country, but to the one immense mountain which 
 has so long borne that name, and to the subordinate 
 but lofty peaks, which shoot up like towers and bat- 
 tlements from its base and sides. According to this 
 
358 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 view Sinai, properly so called, is the lofty and irregu- 
 lar mountain pile, which occupies the space between 
 the valley of Shu-Eib on the east and the valley of 
 El-Leja on the west; terminating at its highest point 
 in Jebel Musa or the peak of Moses. 
 
 In consequence of the ill health of Mr. Thompson, 
 on whom the interest and success of our visits and 
 inquiries very much depended, we delayed the ascent 
 of Mount Sinai for a short time. Meanwhile I em- 
 ployed myself, as far as my strength, and our limited 
 time would allow, in examining the noble plain of El 
 Rahah, and the deep gorge or valley of Horeb between 
 Sinai and St. Catherine, called the valley of El-Leja. 
 The excursion to El-Leja will well repay the traveller 
 for his trouble, especially if he keeps in mind that it 
 has some historical as well as natural interest attached 
 to it. I was accompanied in this excursion by Mr. 
 Walcott. We left the convent of St. Catherine, situa- 
 ted, as I have mentioned, in the valley of Shu-Eib at 
 the base of Sinai ; and proceeding a little more than 
 a mile, turned to the left and passed for some dis- 
 tance under the sharp lofty peaks which overlook the 
 plain of El- Rahah. We left the wady of Esch-Shekh 
 on the right. The projecting and comparatively ele- 
 vated point of land between the valleys or wadys 
 Esch-Shekh and Shu-Eib, is the traditional place oc- 
 cupied by Aaron, while the people at a little distance 
 on the plain of El-Rahah were dancing in honor of 
 the golden calf he had made. And it was here, in 
 accordance with the same traditions, that Moses, on 
 coming down from the mountain on that occasion, en- 
 countered Aaron, and gave utterance to his dissatis- 
 faction and rebukes. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 359 
 
 Proceeding a mile and a half, we entered the valley 
 of El-Leja. In the excursion up this wild and rocky 
 valley, and soon after entering it from the large plain, 
 we were gratified at the sight of gardens with fruit 
 trees and other trees growing in them. These gar- 
 dens are said to have been the sites of the ancient 
 convents of St. Peter and St. Mary, which have now 
 passed away. It was obvious to me, that the valley 
 of El-Leja, impressive and even sublime by the lofty 
 walls of rocks on both sides of it, was susceptible at 
 the same time, in many of its small nooks and reces- 
 ses, of profitable cultivation. It was perhaps owing 
 to this combination of qualities and attractions, — soli- 
 tude, silence, sublimity, and the means of a limited 
 but not self-indulgent support, and all beneath the 
 mountain rendered sacred by hallowed memories and 
 by clouds and fire, — that it became a favorite resort, 
 in the early centuries of the Christian era, of those 
 Christians, who adopted, as the anticipated means of 
 their greater progress, the silence, the privations, and 
 hopes of a solitary life. In the upper part of the val- 
 ley the convent of the Forty Martyrs still stands. — 
 The cave of Onuphrius, who had previously dwelt 
 near Thebes, is found here. It was in this valley 
 that the justly celebrated John Climachus spent a 
 considerable portion of his life ; — but whether he dwelt 
 in a convent or in some solitary cavern, is unknown 
 at the present time. 
 
 In this valley are said to be found, although I no- 
 ticed none in that part of it which I visited, some of 
 those celebrated Sinaitic inscriptions, — the written 
 characters of a language now unknown, — which have 
 
360 LETTERS — ESTHETIC, 
 
 excited so much interest and inquiry among antiqua- 
 rians. They are found, however, in greater numbers 
 in other places in these regions. A few have been 
 discovered in the rough mountain pass, called Niekeb 
 Hawy. And they are very frequent in the vicinity of 
 Mount Serbal, and also on its sides and near its sum- 
 mit, — a celebrated mountain, some thirty or thirty-five 
 miles distant in a northwest direction from Sinai. It 
 is not unreasonable to suppose, that these inscriptions, 
 in the new developments which time is constantly 
 making, may yet throw some light upon the events 
 which have occurred here. 
 
 In the central part of this valley, and not far from 
 the base of Mount St. Catherine, is the rock, accord- 
 ing to the traditions repeated and preserved here, that 
 was smitten by Moses ; and from which he miracu- 
 lously brought the water, which supplied the thirsty 
 Israelites. So much has been said of this rock, that 
 I looked upon it with much interest. It stands on 
 the Sinai side of the valley with a water-course be- 
 fore it, through which at certain seasons of the year 
 the descending water flows from the mountains around 
 towards the plain of El Rahah. It 4s separate from 
 the other rocks around ; a hard, reddish piece of gran- 
 ite, about ten feet in height and twelve or fourteen in 
 length, and slightly curved at the top. It is certainly 
 an object worthy of the traveller's notice, although it 
 might not be safe to assert its identity with the Mo- 
 saic rock. On the side facing from Sinai towards the 
 water-course of the valley, it presents a flat surface ; 
 and on this surface, rising one above another, are long 
 indentations, which suggest the idea of having been 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 361 
 
 left there by a succession of blows powerfully im- 
 pressed upon it. There is also an opening in the rock, 
 which easily reminds one of the sculptured openings 
 or mouths, through which the water is sometimes seen 
 to gush out in large artificial fountains. The rock 
 also has a discolored appearance in some places, — 
 such as one naturally supposes might have been oc- 
 casioned by the flowing of water. 
 
 The position of the rock in relation to the plain 
 where the Israelites were assembled at the giving of 
 the Law, is not at variance with its traditional reputa- 
 tion. It is true they were not encamped, at the time 
 of its being smitten, on the plain ; but at Rephidim, 
 which biblical geographers locate in the valley of 
 Esch Shekh. But it is worthy of notice, that the 
 valleys of Esch Shekh and El-Leja are closely con- 
 nected ; so much so that the waters of El-Leja, which 
 collect there at certain seasons of the year, find their 
 outlet through Esch Shekh. And Rephidim also, 
 though located in the wady or valley of Esch Shekh, 
 is understood to have been at no great distance from 
 the Horeb mountains, to which Moses was expressly 
 sent forward on this occasion. And soon afterwards 
 the whole people moved onward to the plain of El- 
 Rahah, and took a position at the foot of Sinai ; — 
 which I understand to be one of the group of moun- 
 tains to which the more general name of Horeb is 
 applied. 
 
 After the favorable results of a day or two's rest, 
 the whole of our party were in a situation to attempt 
 . the ascent of Mount Sinai. The mountain is an im- 
 mense pile of broken granite ; rising steeply and rug- 
 31 
 
362 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 gedly to the southwest of the convent. Without the 
 assistance of the Arabs, who were employed for that 
 purpose, it would have been difficult for me to have 
 reached its summit. The mountain corresponds to 
 the associations which are connected with it ; — vast, 
 lofty, unchangeable ; suggestive of the greatness and 
 immutability of God. It has long seemed to me to 
 be difficult for a man to live among lofty mountains, 
 and be an infidel. I say this in view of the im- 
 pressions which they have oftentimes made upon my 
 own mind. Suggestive by their vastness of the ideas 
 of causation and power, they can hardly fail to 
 nourish religious thought and sentiment. If all 
 things which exist, are God's, there seems to be 
 reason for saying, that the mountains are peculiarly 
 His. They are His, not only by creation, but by the 
 impressive attributes which pertain to them, — by 
 their vastness and fixedness, by the permanency 
 which they give to the rock-ribbed earth, and by 
 the changeless sublimity of their solitude and silence. 
 But more than this can be said of Sinai, which 
 is His, not only by its rocky base and its tower- 
 ing summit, which exceed human power and are al- 
 most beyond human conception ; but is His also, by 
 special manifestations and by holy history. 
 
 We stopped and rested a short time, after having 
 ascended no small distance, at the grotto and foun- 
 tain, which is called the grotto of Moses. This is the 
 name which was given to the place by those who at- 
 tended us up the mountain. It is a small, circular 
 chamber, opened and rounded in the rocks, ; — beauti- 
 ful in its form, a protection from the heat, refreshed 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 363 
 
 by living waters, and undisturbed by the noise of men. 
 It is evidently no work of human art ; but fashioned 
 by the hand which made the mountain itself. I was 
 taken by surprise in finding so delightful a place ; — 
 suited as it seemed to be, not only for quiet and repose, 
 but for religious contemplation and for the nourish- 
 ment of high and holy purposes. Ik seemed to me 
 altogether probable, that, in this very place, the in- 
 spiration of the Almighty, which could not be absent 
 from a heart devoted and consecrated like his, had 
 given rise to many of the thoughts and purposes, 
 which have stamped an immortality on the writings 
 and the history of the great Israeli tish leader. 
 
 Other names besides that of Moses have been as- 
 sociated with these memorable places. It is related 
 in the book of Kings, that the prophet Elijah, after the 
 destruction of the prophets of Baal, fled into these 
 regions. As we advanced farther up, perhaps thir- 
 teen or fourteen hundred feet above the valley of the 
 convent, we came to a small plain or basin, in the 
 elevated bosom of the mountain, near which we were 
 shown a large cavern bearing this prophet's name. 
 A small chapel, called the chapel of Elijah, is built 
 over this cave. Ascending hundreds of feet higher, 
 and very near the summit of the mountain, our atten- 
 tion was directed to the cleft in the rocks, in which 
 Moses is said to have hid himself when the glory of 
 the Lord passed by. 
 
 It will be understood of course, that many of these 
 things depend upon tradition ; but tradition, without 
 always being accepted as the truth, may still have a 
 degree of truth for its foundation; and may some- 
 
364 
 
 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 times be an innocent and even a profitable helper of 
 the imagination. Tradition often localizes and clothes 
 with particular incidents a general and indefinite tran- 
 saction. We do not necessarily accept of the tradi- 
 tional part as a truth or fact ; but if it be not contra- 
 dicted from other sources of evidence, we admit it as 
 announcing what is possible and in some cases proba- 
 ble. The imagination seizes upon this probability or 
 even possibility. And the result is, that the fact, which 
 we never doubted in its general aspect, becomes more 
 of a practical reality, binds itself more closely to the 
 soul, when, without ascribing any undue weight to 
 traditions, we are able by their aid, to assign to it the 
 length, and breadth and height, of a probable, or even 
 a possible particularity. But I ought to add, that the 
 imagination hardly needed this aid here. That Mo- 
 ses trod these rocks, and that God walked with him 
 and talked with him on these wild and solitary heights, 
 I could no more doubt, than I could doubt the exis- 
 tence of the rocks themselves. It is true the footsteps 
 of the prophet could no longer be seen ; but it was 
 enough for all the purposes of thought and of the 
 heart, to know that those footsteps had once been 
 here. This strong conviction, sustained by the pre- 
 sent reality of the things around me, annihilated ages. 
 The proximity of space destroyed, if I may so express 
 it, the separations and distances of time ; and Moses, 
 who had become comparatively dim in the distance 
 of ages, seemed to be seated on the rocks or walking 
 by my side, as I was climbing over the heights of his 
 own rugged and solitary mountain. 
 
 We at last reached the highest part of the moun- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 365 
 
 tain ; and looked abroad from its elevated summit 
 under the light of a clear, blue sky. The extreme 
 summit, more than six thousand feet above the 
 level of the sea, is an immense rock ; — or more ac- 
 curately a number of large rocks slightly sepa- 
 rated from each other; furnishing an irregular area of 
 some eighty or an hundred feet square. The rock is 
 a gray granite. On the eastern portion of it is a small 
 building of great antiquity; which was once used as 
 a chapel. With some assistance from the Bedouins 
 who attended me, I was enabled to ascend upon its 
 top. Remaining for some time on this dizzy height 
 alone, I contemplated in silence the magnificence of 
 the scene around me. 
 
 There has been no accurate survey of this region, 
 and a glance even from this towering eminence could 
 give but an imperfect idea of the relative position of 
 surrounding objects. But still, although Mount Sinai 
 is shut in with other mountains, it seemed to me 
 pretty well denned. I looked to the south-west , and 
 below me was the deep, narrow valley of El-Leja, 
 which I have already described as holding in its bosom 
 the smitten rock of Moses, and as being in ancient 
 times the residence of many religious anchorites and 
 the location of a number of ruined convents. Beyond 
 the valley in the same direction, is the lofty and mag- 
 nificent peak of St. Catherine. I looked down the 
 immense perpendicular wall on the southern side into 
 the valley of Sebahyeh. There is a small opening 
 there at the foot of the mountain, which seemed to 
 me worthy of special examination. Perhaps it will 
 at some time give a new phase to the history of this 
 31* 
 
366 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 wonderful mountain. I was desirous to know more 
 about it. But the head grew dizzy in the attempt 
 to ascertain even in the most general manner, its fea- 
 tures and extent. In the north-east direction the rocky 
 heights of E-Dayr expanded their broad and level 
 summit beyond the valley and gardens of Shu-Eib, 
 from which we had ascended. In another direction 
 was the peak of Sussafeh, and other lofty peaks over- 
 hanging the great plain. 
 
 Even natural greatness has power ; but it was not 
 the mere physical expansion and wildness of the scene, 
 which left its deep impression on the mind. That 
 principle of association, which attaches deeds to pla- 
 ces, and magnifies the one by the magnitude of the 
 other, added the greatness of character and events to 
 the greatness and sublimity of physical nature. 
 
 The principal summit of Sinai, called by the Arabs 
 Jebel Musa or the peak of Moses, rises solitary and 
 apart. It was this peak which we had now ascended ; 
 but it is worthy of notice, that, about midway or per- 
 haps two thirds of the way from the valley of Shu-Eib 
 towards the mountain's top, the Jebel Musa subtends 
 a large and irregular base towards the west. I did 
 not notice this so much in ascending the mountain, 
 as in coming down. We descended the narrow and 
 precipitous path perhaps a thousand feet ; although I 
 ought to repeat here what I have intimated in another 
 place, that I do not profess to have the means of en- 
 tire accuracy in distances. The mountain at this dis- 
 tance from the top, as if seeking to lay down a part 
 of its mighty bulk on the neighboring plain, widens 
 its vast granite base in the direction of El Rahah ;— 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 367 
 
 throwing itself into many varieties of form and aspect ; 
 — sometimes rising in sharp pointed cliffs, and some- 
 times sinking in ravines and small valleys. 
 
 At this place Mr. Thompson and myself separated 
 from the rest of our party, and came down to El Ra- 
 hah and the Greek Convent by the way of the peak 
 of Sussafeh. The way was wildly romantic ; and in 
 general rocky and barren. From time to time, how- 
 ever, we passed over small level patches of ground, 
 bearing a species of coarse grass and a few trees. 
 Repeatedly a cold clear fountain sparkled from the 
 foot of a rock. We passed over this part of the moun- 
 tain for more than a mile. This struck me as being 
 a remarkable place, — the chosen residence of solitude 
 and silence ; — and yet a degree of beauty, shining in 
 the ripples of a fountain or in a tree or tranquil flow - 
 er, diversified and softened its solitary and silent gran- 
 deur. There are many caverns here. The fragmentary 
 remains of some rude stone edifices are also to be 
 found. 
 
 There was something in this singular place, so 
 unique, so shut out from the world, so fitted to soli- 
 tary contemplation, that it not only seized hold of the 
 imagination ; but had its marked attraction for cer- 
 tain tendencies and moods of the heart. It was once 
 the residence undoubtedly of that class of men, com- 
 memorated in history and poetry, whose life of lone- 
 ly prayer possesses, in these speculative and practical 
 days, the aspect almost of religious romance. 
 
 " Far in a wild, unknown to public view, 
 From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ; 
 The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, 
 His food the fruits, his drink the chrystal well." 
 
368 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 It was in such a region as this, a region which finds 
 in its want of fertility and its difficulty of approach, 
 a security against the influx and presence of mere 
 men of the world, that this class of persons dwelt ; 
 and in few places did they reside in greater numbers 
 than in the valleys and wild mountain recesses of Sinai. 
 Soon the mountain begins to rise again ; lifting itself 
 up gradually and slowly in its massive majesty; and 
 terminating at a point where it looks directly down, 
 at the height apparently of some twelve or thirteen 
 hundred feet, upon the large and tranquil plain of El 
 Rahah. This is that peak of Sussafeh, the peak of 
 the willow which I mentioned in my last letter as 
 having particularly attracted our attention, when we 
 came down into the plain of El Rahah out of the 
 dark and lofty bosom of Niekeb Hawy. 
 
 I think that that this peak may be called with 
 scarcely an impropriety of speech, the tribune or pul- 
 pit of Sinai. Its position, its solitary grandeur, its 
 historical associations, seem to me to entitle it to that 
 appellation. I have seen the rock in which it termi- 
 nates ; and therefore speak with the greater con- 
 fidence. I have stood upon it ; and shall ever remem- 
 ber it well. And if the impression, which can hardly 
 fail to be left upon those who visit the spot, be a just 
 one, — then what scenes, unequalled in the history of 
 man, have been enacted at this place. It was there, 
 that the visible and the invisible, that earth and 
 heaven may be said to have met together. It was 
 there that the Almighty came down, and planted His 
 foot. His form of Infinitude embodied, if I may so 
 express it, rested upon the peak of Jebel-Musa, which 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 369 
 
 rose behind him. His arm extended itself over the 
 plain that lay beneath him ; and over the countless 
 multitude who filled it. A thick cloud was around 
 him ; and flaming fire was at his feet. The trumpet 
 sounded. The mountain trembled. It was at that 
 hour of mingled grandeur and goodness that the word 
 was spoken, which unveiled the foundations of error. 
 And truth, which had been obscured and distorted or 
 had been wholly driven away from the habitations of 
 men, was led back again by the hand of the Infinite, 
 and restored to its primitive position and power. 
 
 I shall look for a description of the scene and asso- 
 ciations of this remarkable place from the learned 
 and eloquent pen of my companion. I listened to the 
 reading of the law from his lips on this portion of 
 Sinai. The words of those great instructions were 
 heard again upon the rocks. It is hardly necessary 
 to say, that it was a deeply interesting and impressive 
 moment. 
 
 There are two great publications of truth, for which 
 I find no parallels in human history, and which will 
 never cease to stand pre-eminent both by their nature 
 and by the circumstances under which they were 
 made ; — the law of Sinai and the Sermon on the 
 Mount. The law of Sinai is essentially a republica- 
 tion of those great principles of natural religion which 
 are engraven on the human heart, but which sin had 
 obscured and almost obliterated. It places in an ob- 
 jective or outward position that which had been writ- 
 ten within; and re-writes in letters of fire, and on 
 mountain-tops, and in sight of the whole world that 
 which had grown dim and illegible in the subjective 
 
370 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 chambers of man's erring and fallen spirit. It is one 
 of the fatal attributes of sin, that it makes men blind 
 and puts them to sleep ; — so that they do wrong al- 
 most without knowing that it is wrong. But the law 
 of Sinai is a trumpet voice, waxing louder and louder, 
 which rends the rocks and wakes the dead ; but utter- 
 ing its declarations in the form of prohibitions rather 
 than of precepts, it only wakes them to a sense of 
 their deadness, without giving them the living princi- 
 ple of a renovated life. So that in giving moral light 
 and in verifying to men's stupid consciousness the 
 facts of their multiplied transgression, it may be said 
 to slay, rather than to make alive. But still, con- 
 sidering the condition of the human race at the time 
 it was given, the moral ignorance, the idolatries, and 
 the crimes which every where prevailed, — it was a 
 declaration which was essential and indispensable in 
 the progress of man's restoration. 
 
 As my footsteps trod upon the peaks of Sinai, I 
 looked, therefore, upon the scenes around me with the 
 deepest interest and the sincerest gratitude, because I 
 felt that they were theatres of necessary transition 
 points in that great history of Redemption, which, 
 beginning with the promise that the " seed of the 
 woman should bruise the serpent's head," terminated 
 in the crucifixion of the Virgin's Son. Law, how- 
 ever, is not life. The true progress of man's restora- 
 tion is from the outward to the inward, from the law 
 which restricts action to the principle of holy love 
 which inspires it. It is through the crucifixion of 
 Christ and his resurrection from the dead, and in con- 
 formity with the Sermon on the Mount, that the true 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 371 
 
 life comes ; that life of faith and holy affection, which 
 makes man like his heavenly Father. This is the 
 little leaven, spoken of in the Scriptures, which leavens 
 the whole lump ; — which, gradual, but sure in its pro- 
 gress, restores the individual and reforms and im- 
 proves society; — which breaks down and equalizes 
 the enormous distinctions resulting from selfishness ; 
 — consolidates brotherhood, humanizes and elevates 
 humanity, and makes God all in all. 
 
 In coming down from the peak of Sussafeh into 
 the plain of El Rahah, I was greatly exhausted, after 
 having travelled all day in feeble health. The descent 
 is exceedingly steep; requiring strength as well as 
 great care in those who come down. Indeed it would 
 have been hardly possible for me to have made the 
 descent and to have returned to the convent that day 
 without the personal and persevering assistance of 
 two Bedouin Arabs, to whose kindness I have already 
 had occasion to refer. Night was rapidly approach- 
 ing, and in more than one instance they took me in 
 their arms and carried me. They supported me down 
 precipices where a false step would have dashed me 
 to pieces. In the rude and solitary tents of El Kha- 
 dem and El-Leja, they may cease to think of me ; be- 
 cause they might have found nothing worth remem- 
 bering except my infirmities ; but I should think un- 
 worthily of myself, if I ceased to retain a recollection 
 of the kindness of these untutored but warm-hearted 
 men. 
 
 They came with me slowly along the foot of the 
 mountain ; and we turned again into the valley of 
 Shu-Eib. We passed very near an Egyptian encamp- 
 
372 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 ment. I heard the sound of fife and drum. The 
 sound seemed strange and mysterious here. The 
 mists and shadows were gathering upon the valley. 
 The drum rolled again, and its sound was echoed 
 from the rocks. It was natural that I should say to 
 myself, in the words of Joshua to Moses, uttered not 
 far from this very place, "There is a noise of war in 
 the camp." The signs and voices of human strife 
 have reached even these solitary places. That tide of 
 desolation which has overwhelmed Europe and which 
 at different periods has rolled along the banks of the 
 Nile, has driven its fiery wave across the sajids of the 
 desert also, and has dashed itself against the foot of 
 Sinai. Depravity hardens itself in defiance of the 
 Law. Will it not yield to the self-sacrificing spirit of 
 the Gospel? 
 
 There is something within me, which bids me go 
 hence. It is not safe for weak and erring humanity 
 to stop at Sinai. I will endeavor to find a teacher 
 and a guide greater than Moses. Following his foot- 
 steps on the banks of the Jordan and on the shore 
 of Tiberias, in the garden of Gethsemane and on 
 the hill of the Crucifixion, I will hope in the great- 
 ness of my own weakness and wants, to catch some- 
 thing of his benevolent spirit. I will listen to that 
 voice of angels, which still echoes over the plain of 
 Bethlehem ; " Peace on earth ; good will to men." 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 373 
 
 (XLI.) 
 
 Departure from Sinai — Last view of the great plain — Group of Arab 
 women and children — Wady Esch-Shekh — Route from Esch-Shekh 
 to the Elanitic gulf — Mountain scenery — Wady Hudhera — Elani- 
 tic Red Sea — Idnmea and Mount Hor — Eziongeber — Arrival at 
 Accaba — Shekh Hassan — Leave for Niekel and Gaza — Fortress of 
 Niekel— Amelekite territory — Beersheba — Reach Gaza — Historical 
 references. 
 
 GAZA, PASHALIC OF SYRIA, MAY 7, 1853. 
 
 We left Sinai on the 13th of April on our way to 
 Palestine. When parties set out upon the long jour- 
 neys of these deserts, it requires some time to adjust 
 the baggage to the camels, and in general not less to 
 settle the rivalries and jealousies among their owners. 
 During the time when things were thus in a process 
 of preparation for our departure, I occupied myself 
 in going a little distance up the steep granite side of 
 Mount E-Dayr, and took a last view of the walls and 
 gardens of the ancient convent, of the rugged and 
 towering heights of Sinai, and of the great historical 
 plain below me ; and felt once more that I stood in 
 the midst of scenes, which had witnessed events and 
 were associated with names as memorable as any in 
 history. 
 
 As I stood thus, I noticed at a little distance, hud- 
 dled together in the sunless clefts of the rocks, a num- 
 ber of Arab women with their little children around 
 them. They were the wives and children, I supposed, 
 of the Arabs who had gone up with us in our ascent 
 of Mount Sinai, or of those who were preparing to 
 conduct us on our journey. Knowing that I had 
 come from a distant land, — a land less poor and deso- 
 32 
 
374 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 late and suffering than their own, — they extended 
 their hands and uttered in their own language their 
 petition for some small present. This was not unex- 
 pected to me, because it is the custom among them ; 
 — a custom which is, in some degree, justified by 
 their necessities. I saw them seated among rocks 
 which the ploughshare does not enter, and where 
 wheat does not grow. I saw that they were raggedy 
 and I could hardly doubt that they were hungry. 
 The women in their poverty and ignorance, and differ- 
 ing also in race and in religion, were nevertheless my 
 sisters. Christianity required me thus to regard them. 
 The children were everybody's children who has a 
 heart to love them, and I could not believe, although 
 I might differ in this from the opinion of other travel- 
 lers, that it would hurt either my pocket or my heart 
 to give them the small sum which they asked. 
 
 When the camels were ready, we mounted and set 
 out. The course which we took led us through a 
 portion of the beautiful wady Esch Shekh, which I 
 have already had occasion to mention. I speak of the 
 wady or valley which bears this name as beautiful, 
 because, contrary to the anticipations which one is 
 apt to form, there is sometimes surpassing beauty in 
 the physical aspects even of these desolate regions. 
 The succession of lofty cliffs, through which Esch 
 Shekh passes, forms, in this direction, a sort of out- 
 works and entrance gateway, if I may so express it, to 
 the secluded and mysterious region of Horeb, of which 
 Sinai is the centre. After leaving this wady at the 
 end of a few hours' march, and altering our course 
 with a view to reach the Elanitic gulf, we passed 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 375 
 
 through other wadys and mountain gorges, which 
 continued to gratify in a high degree that sentiment 
 of the beautiful and sublime which is natural to man, 
 and which, in its wonderful power to mark and to re- 
 flect the numerous and minute aspects of surrounding 
 objects, may be said to exist like a living mirror at 
 the bottom of the human heart. 
 
 Our route, after leaving Esch Shekh, led us through 
 Orfan, Murrah, and Hudhera. In many places in 
 these wadys, which form portions of the more com- 
 mon route from Sinai to Accaba, the mountains rise 
 abruptly on both sides, leaving a narrow path between 
 them, and with such distinctly marked relations on 
 the corresponding sides, that they have the appearance 
 of being worn down or cut in two in the centre. Lay- 
 ers of rock of every variety of kind and color, granite, 
 sandstone, limestone, green-stone, intermixed with 
 slate and veins of porphyry, attracted a degree 
 of notice, which in other countries would have been 
 given to the beautiful varieties of trees and flowers. 
 No earth covers them. Washed occasionally by the 
 fains, and polished, if I may so express it, by the blaz- 
 ing contact of sunbeams, they sometimes shine like 
 gems. In some instances the forms were as remarka- 
 ble as the colors ; and the rocks were worn by the ac- 
 tion of the elements into variegated shapes of beauty, 
 which reminded us of the columns, statues, and tem- 
 ples of human art. It was often a magic scene, a 
 wilderness of enchantments, probably unseen any- 
 where else; — which recalled, while it may be sup- 
 posed to give an explanation in part, of the gorgeous 
 fictions of the Arabian tales. 
 
376 
 
 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 It may be proper to say here, that the wady Hud- 
 hera, or rather the fountain of Hudhera in its vicinity, 
 is supposed by biblical geographers, and for reasons 
 which have much weight, to be the Hazeroth of the 
 Scriptures, If this view should generally be adopted 
 as the correct one, it will be found important as indi- 
 cating with great exactness the first portion of the 
 route of the Israelites from Sinai towards Palestine. 
 
 Reaching after a number of days the Elanitic branch 
 of the Red Sea, we encamped at night on its shores, 
 and were refreshed by its welcome breezes. The 
 transition to this novel scene was pleasant, although 
 the desolation on both sides of the gulf was not less 
 marked and complete than that of the regions behind 
 us. But there was this difference. There had been 
 unbroken silence before. Day had succeeded to day, 
 without a sound to break their stillness, — but now 
 the voice of the waves, as they dashed gently on the 
 shore, was like sweet sounds of music. This gentle 
 and refreshing voice from the ocean seemed to have 
 a power over the heart unknown before. But this 
 was not all. In the barren region from which we 
 had just emerged there were neither trees nor flowers 
 to attract the eye with their verdure and variegated 
 beauty; but scattered along the shore of the sea 
 there were numberless sea-shells of exquisite tints 
 and of every variety of form. Often we stopped to 
 gather them; and we found a new species of com- 
 panionship iu the suggestive power of their beauty. 
 
 Continuing along the western side of the sea, we 
 now proceeded, by an easier march of a number of 
 days, some iifty or sixty miles to Accaba. In only 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 377 
 
 one instance, when a mountainous rock came jutting 
 down upon the water, were we obliged to leave the 
 level shore, and take a more difficult route. The sea, 
 or gulf as it may be as properly called, varies in its 
 upper portion from five to twelve miles in width. 
 Such, at least, is the opinion, which one would be 
 likely to form, in estimating it by the eye alone. On 
 the side opposite to us, lofty and barren heights 
 touched in some places upon the water ; and suspen- 
 ded their huge cliffs over it. This rocky and moun- 
 tainous region extending along the eastern shore — 
 a region which includes Mount Hor within its limits, 
 — is the ancient land of Idumea, — the residence of 
 the descendants of Esau, and the burial place of 
 Aaron. 
 
 At the head of this branch of the Red Sea were 
 once towns of importance, which have now passed 
 away; — particularly Eloth mentioned in the Scrip- 
 tures, which is the same, I suppose, as the Aila or 
 Aela of the Romans, and Eziongeber, the port of 
 Solomon. David, the father of Solomon, had con- 
 quered the Idumeans ; and the possession of this port 
 which was the channel of Arabian and Indian com- 
 merce, was a principal source of Solomon's wealth. 
 It is stated of this king, that he "made a navy of ship3 
 at Eziongeber, which is beside Eloth, on the shore of 
 the Red Sea, in the land of Edom." The site of Eloth 
 was two miles south of Accaba. The latter is a mod- 
 ern Turkish town of small size, with fortifications of 
 considerable strength ; and is the residence of a gov- 
 ernor. Reaching it in safety, but not without con- 
 siderable fatigue, we pitched our tents on the plain of 
 32* 
 
378 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 Accaba and near its walls, with the Red Sea in front 
 and the mountains of Edom behind us. 
 
 The arrangement, which we had made with our 
 Arabs for our conveyance, terminated at Accaba. We 
 could not advance further without the assistance and 
 aid of Shekh Hassan, the chief of the Alloween Arabs. 
 We waited for him some time. He was absent in 
 the Idumean mountains which are inhabited by his 
 people ; and did not come to us till after the lapse of 
 seven days. He gave explanations of his detention, 
 which seemed due to the patience with which we had 
 waited for him so long on the burning sands. We 
 were glad to see the old chief, though he brought us 
 unfavorable news. Shekh Hassan has often been 
 mentioned by travellers. We were seated beneath 
 some palm-trees which overshadowed our tents, when 
 he made his appearance. He is an old man, seventy 
 years of age ; but with no want of elasticity in his 
 step, and with no dimness in his keen, piercing eye. 
 Dressed richly in the oriental manner, and seated erect 
 on a fine horse, which bore him majestically from the 
 mountains behind us, he wheeled slowly and proudly 
 into our presence. As he rode he bore a beautiful 
 spear in his right hand ; — some twelve feet in length. 
 He held it gracefully and proudly, as if conscious of 
 elevating upon its sharp and glittering point both the 
 emblem and security of his barbarian bower. He was 
 accompanied by his brother and son. He heard our 
 story, and promptly returned his answer. 
 
 He informed us, that in consequence of some very 
 recent difficulties, which had sprung up among the 
 Arab tribes, it would be impossible, in accordance 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 379 
 
 with our original intention, to reach Palestine by the 
 way of Hebron ; and would b>e very difficult to ad- 
 vance even as far as Petra, the ancient capital of Idu- 
 mea. We knew something of the power of this Edom- 
 ite Chief, and that we could not go without his assis- 
 tance. And although we offered him inducements 
 and made various propositions, he still insisted, that 
 the attempt to reach Hebron, in particular, would be 
 at the risk of property and lives; — and with an hon- 
 orable frankness, he declined entirely the responsibility 
 of conducting us. 
 
 Under these circumstances we were obliged to give 
 up some of the objects we had in view; especially our 
 visit to Petra which was but a few days distance from 
 us ; and whose remains of dwellings, tombs and tem- 
 ples, excavated with taste and skill in the lofty rocks 
 which overhang its narrow valley, have been the ad- 
 miration of travellers. Altering the plan of our route 
 with the view to reach the shore of the Mediterranean, 
 and in the expectation of entering Palestine by the 
 way of the old Philistine town of Gaza, we at once 
 made preparations for our departure. The old Al- 
 loween chief, who showed in his intercourse with us 
 that he was neither wanting in kind feelings nor in a 
 good share of practical shrewdness, readily furnished 
 the requisite camels and men. The Bedouin Arabs, 
 under whose guidance we were now placed, have the 
 reputation of being among the rudest and wildest of 
 this peculiar and remarkable race of people. Their 
 appearance, as they came around us and took posses- 
 sion of our tents and baggage, was not at variance 
 with their reputation. The chief Hassan, thinking it 
 unnecessary to attend us in person, or perhaps called 
 
380 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 to more urgent duties somewhere else, committed our 
 escort to the charge of his brother. 
 
 A few moments before we started, I was interested 
 to see this old man, the head of a fierce and powerful 
 tribe, call around him those of his people who were 
 to attend us. Their rude and coarse garments showed 
 their poverty ; but each one, I believe, or with scarce- 
 ly an exception, had a gun in his hand. At the voice 
 of their leader their discordant clamors were hushed. 
 The aged chief took an elevated position on a rock ; 
 and the men seated themselves in a circle in front of 
 him on the rocks and sand. Standing but a few feet 
 back of the enclosure formed by the Bedouins, I was 
 able to hear what was said without understanding its 
 import. I learned, however, from our interpreter, that 
 he gave them advice as to their conduct ; and cer- 
 tainly the propriety and earnestness of his gestures, 
 and the falling tear that shone in his eye, and the visi- 
 ble effect upon the men, showed that even the fierce 
 chief of a rude Arab tribe feels something of the obli- 
 gation to be the father, as well as the leader and 
 governor of his people. 
 
 We left Accaba on Monday the 25th of April ; re- 
 tracing for a short time our steps around the head of 
 this branch of the Red Sea, till we reached, in the 
 mountains on its western side, the great pass, which 
 is annually trodden by the caravans between Egypt 
 and Mecca. Turning into this pass, in which there 
 are obvious traces of an old Roman road, we ascend- 
 ed for a long distance with mountain heights on each 
 hand ; and amid that peculiar mountain scenery which 
 I have already mentioned. Arrived at the summit of 
 this long and difficult ascent, we once more cast a 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 381 
 
 look upon the waters, which once floated with the na- 
 vies and riches of Solomon, and upon the lofty moun- 
 tains of Edom on the other side of them. We then, 
 without descending into valleys again as we naturally 
 anticipated, passed over elevated plains of vast extent ; 
 of a hard and pebbly surface, and blackened by the 
 sun ; and I think we found no part of these great de- 
 serts more destitute of vegetation and of every form 
 of life than this. In four days' travel from Accaba, 
 and at the distance of about ninety miles, we reached 
 the village and fortress of Niekel. 
 
 The country around the fortress of Niekel, unable 
 to supply with provisions even the little community 
 here, is a wide sandy desolation ; not less barren than 
 the country we had passed over. So that both the 
 fortress and the little village connected with it, draw 
 their supplies from distant places ; and chiefly from 
 Suez and Cairo. A few artificial wells and fountains, 
 however, are found here ; which is a great convenience 
 to the travellers and pilgrims that pass this way. 
 The fortress of Niekel is not far from the borders of 
 the Pashalic of Egypt in the direction of Syria ; and 
 seems to have been established with the combined 
 object of keeping the neighboring Arabs in awe, of 
 protecting and aiding the caravans between Egypt 
 and Mecca, and of indicating the fact of Egyptian 
 authority, exercised in full power at no great distance 
 from the lines of a distinct and rival dominion. 
 
 There were sounds of music in the village and for- 
 tress on the night of our arrival there. It was an 
 hour of feasting, and of that rude joy, which in these 
 regions accompanies the ceremonies of marriage. I 
 
382 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 sat in my tent and heard it, at a little distance ; and 
 was not sorry to know, that human sympathies may 
 exist amid the desolations of nature ; and that love 
 has a place even in the sands of the desert. 
 
 We spent the Sabbath here, and on the next morn- 
 ing, the second of May, renewed our march towards 
 the shore of the Mediterranean. At this place we 
 ceased to be conveyed by the camels and Bedouins 
 of Shekh Hassan ; and came under the protection 
 and were conveyed by the men of another tribe. This 
 change in the men who conducted us, had been the 
 cause of some delay. 
 
 As we advanced from Niekel towards Gaza, we 
 passed through a portion of the territory once occu- 
 pied by the Amalekites ; — an ancient and warlike peo- 
 ple, whose power seems to have extended from the 
 plains and valleys of Philistia to the mountains of 
 Sinai. Their fierce wars with the Israelites are known 
 to the readers of the Bible. Our course led us a little 
 to the south of the ancient Beersheba, and at no 
 great distance from it. Beersheba, which still retains 
 its ancient name and whose wells and scattered ruins 
 indicate its position, is situated upon the southern 
 border of Palestine. It was at one time the residence 
 of Abraham and Isaac. Passing onward in a south- 
 west direction, and going through what we supposed 
 might be that portion of the Philistine territory which 
 bears in the Scriptures the name of Gerar, we reached 
 in five days' travel from Niekel the shores of the 
 Mediterranean ; and were lodged in the quarters of 
 the quarantine of Gaza. 
 
 In our approach to this city, and at the distance of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 383 
 
 about twenty miles, we began to pass from the un- 
 broken sterility of the desert to lands susceptible of 
 cultivation. The heart harmonizes with nature ; and 
 is gay or sad in correspondence with the joy or sad- 
 ness of that which is without. I cannot forget the 
 delight I felt when we came to a small brook. Grass 
 and reeds grew upon its banks ; and as it played with 
 its pebbly channel, its prattling music seemed to have 
 a voice of social welcome in its sound. We saw once 
 more flocks of sheep and goats, and the playing child- 
 ren who watched them ; and droves of camels going 
 to the watering places ; and husbandmen gathering 
 in the barley from the fields. Life, that had been bu- 
 ried in the sands, was again struggling upward into 
 form and beauty. Flowers, unknown in colder cli- 
 mates, sprung up by the wayside ; and as I gazed 
 upon them with continual delight, it seemed as if I 
 had known nothing of their radiance before. They 
 seemed to my pleased imagination, to vindicate to 
 themselves the principle of life ; and to arise from 
 the earth like conscious and social beings, desirous of 
 expressing their joy. They revealed, in their pure 
 and bright expression, a religious import. Is it not 
 true, that the glory of God is written on the leaf of 
 the flower. Or is it the state of the mind, writing 
 the inward beauty on the outward object, which 
 makes it shine so brightly ? 
 
 "We are now in Gaza in quarantine. And it is here, 
 that I am writing, or rather finishing this letter, which 
 I had begun during our seven days' stay at Accaba. 
 The detention here I suppose is necessary ; or at least 
 is deemed to be so. I have no fault to find with our 
 
384 LETTERS — ESTHETIC, 
 
 accommodations. And the harmony of our little com- 
 pany, strengthened by piety, and cheered in Syria as 
 on the Nile and in the Desert by woman's presence, 
 has made every situation pleasant. I can see from 
 the windows of the rooms which we occupy the site 
 of the old city of Gaza. The ancient city, situated 
 at the distance of a mile and a half or two miles from 
 the modern Gaza, was a place of no small note, as 
 far back as the time of Joshua and the Israelitish 
 Judges. Its position in the vicinity of the Mediterra- 
 nean was favorable to it ; and commerce enriched it 
 and gave it strength. Its site is now covered by an 
 immense pile of sand ; so wide and so deep that the 
 traveller who seeks for some memorial of its former 
 greatness, can scarcely find the fragment of a broken 
 column. 
 
 That lofty pile, which the winds and waves of ages 
 have drifted together, and beneath which the city and 
 its gates and temples are buried, is a sort of monu- 
 mental pillar, of that which is passed away and gone. 
 The pride of the Philistine states, the city of Gaza at 
 successive periods was the place of commerce, arts, 
 battles, sieges. It withstood for a long time the fierce 
 attacks of Alexander the Great, who found it stand- 
 ing in his way in his triumphant march from Egypt 
 to Phenicia. And at an earlier period it had a con- 
 nection, in various ways, with Scripture history. It 
 was the gates of Gaza, which Sampson in his con- 
 tests with this people, took away at night, and set 
 upon a distant hill before Hebron. It was here that 
 he was destroyed. And this is the scene, therefore, 
 of one of the magnificent poems of Milton. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 385 
 
 It is thus, wherever our journey leads us, that past 
 deeds and generations spring up at our feet. As I am 
 seated at my window and let my eye roam over these 
 scenes — that eye which becomes also a window to 
 my heart and lets in the floodlights of memory, — I 
 call to mind the names of the men of distant ages ; — 
 of the son of Manoah, the Hercules of the wild and 
 heroic age of the Scriptures, who fought with Dagon 
 and subdued him ; — of the Macedonian conqueror, 
 the mighty but wayward child of a mysterious provi- 
 dence, who was led onward to the destruction of cities 
 in fulfilment of the denunciations of the Hebrew pro- 
 phets; — and of the wonderful bard of the Isle of the 
 Ocean, who was illuminated with a brighter light 
 when he became blind, and who, in his Sampson 
 Agonistes, has poured forth a song of sorrow and of 
 triumph, which matches the noblest melodies of Greek 
 and Roman fame. 
 
 The story of Sampson is one of the touching and 
 instructive passages of biblical history; varied and 
 wonderful in its conflicting aspects ; and not unworthy 
 of the sympathetic remembrances and the sublime 
 song of the great English poet. Strong in his earthly 
 passions, strong in his love of God, but vacillating 
 from heaven to earth and from earth to he'aven, he 
 was an object, which angels might look upon with 
 pity; — sad and terrible in his inward conflicts. When 
 he looked upon Delilah, he fell prostrate to the earth. 
 When he remembered the prayers and faith of his 
 father and mother, and of the ancient and great men 
 of his people, his soul gained strength, and soared up- 
 ward to celestial regions. And it was thus, not firmly 
 33 
 
386 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 fixed to the Central Life, and rent asunder by at- 
 tractions from different sources, he passed and repassed 
 from heights to depths, from good to evil. But God, 
 who loved him, closed his earthly sight ; in order that 
 the eye, which was closed and dark to earth, might 
 be open and illuminated from heaven. With light 
 came strength; and the influx of strength into his 
 soul gave strength to his physical nature. His hour 
 was come. He was ready to die, because death, which 
 is only a method of transition, is the gateway of the 
 resurrection. But in that final conflict between the 
 true and the false, between the perishable and the 
 eternal, his arm grew mighty in God ; — he shook the 
 strong foundations and pillars of falsehood; and the 
 idol and the temple " crumbled into dust." 
 
 (XLII.) 
 
 Quarantine — Its occupants — Thoughts on experiences in the wilder- 
 ness — Poetry — On President Edwards' system of pure or univer- 
 sal love — The slain lamb — Achmed the Syrian — The bird of Ac- 
 caba— The tame fishes of Hingham— The little girl— Poetry. 
 
 PASHALIC OF SYRIA, QUARANTINE OF GAZA, 
 
 SECOND LETTER. 
 
 My last letter found me in Gaza. I date the pres- 
 ent letter from the same place in quarantine. The 
 prevalence of pestilential diseases in the countries of 
 the East, renders establishments of this kind necessary. 
 The quarantine buildings are erected around a square 
 open court. One side of this open area is adorned 
 with shrubbery and flowers. They are watered from 
 a large well which stands in the centre of the court ; — 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 387 
 
 and around which persons are constantly gathered. 
 People from different countries, detained for the rea- 
 sons which detain us, are assembled within these 
 walls ; — travellers to Jerusalem, traders from Cairo, 
 Arabs from the desert, — and all differing from each 
 other, almost as much in their situations in life, as in 
 their habits, dress, nationalities and language. 
 
 At a little distance from the room which we occupy 
 there is a company of slaves. They were brought 
 down the Nile from Nubia, sold to a slave purchaser 
 in Cairo, and are on their sad and desolate way to the 
 interior of Syria. In another part of the building, as 
 if in contrast with this scene of degradation and suf- 
 fering, is a party of young Englishmen, full of activity, 
 joy and hope ; among whom are students from the 
 University of Oxford. Beyond the walls, but in sight 
 of our room, which is the higher story of the quaran- 
 tine building, a large company of Bedouins have just 
 come upon the wide and beautiful plain, which ex- 
 tends to the south and west of the city. They have 
 pitched their dark tents. Their children are at play. 
 The camels, relieved from their burdens, are strolling 
 around. The smoke of their fires is ascending. 
 
 But I will let these things pass now ; and permit my 
 thoughts to take another direction. I will go back 
 again for a short time to the wilderness ; and the rea- 
 son is, that the detention of a number of days at Gaza, 
 under the restrictions and confinement of a quaran- 
 tine, has afforded an opportunity, not only to give an 
 outline of our journey to this place, but to record 
 some of the thoughts and feelings to which it has 
 given rise. 
 
388 LETTERS JESTHETIC, 
 
 I have left the remarkable scenes of the desert ; and 
 in all probability have left them forever. But I hope 
 it will not savor of affectation when I say, that my 
 intercourse with this extraordinary and memorable 
 locality has been an intercourse of the affections, as 
 well as of the senses. Such certainly has been the 
 case. Leaving, therefore, its geography and geology 
 to other and more appropriate hands, at least in their 
 more specific and particular aspects, it will be enough 
 for me, in the circumstances of physical weakness in 
 which I have come here, merely to give an account 
 of the general appearances of the country and some 
 little record of my feelings. So that my descriptions, 
 such as they are, may be expected to take their charac- 
 ter in some degree from the heart, as well as the sight. 
 
 A man never knows the length and depth of his 
 own nature, who lives in one place and deals with 
 one class of men alone ; but must expand and explore 
 himself — must both enlarge his capacity and must 
 understand his capacity — by exploring and exhaust- 
 ing many varieties of situation. And when he is 
 wandering in places desolate and without an inhabi- 
 tant, it will not be surprising, if, in the yearning of his 
 heart to find some object that can meet its wants, he 
 should learn to love the fountains and even the rocks. 
 A tree or a flower, so frequent in his own distant land 
 as to diminish in some degree the sense of their value, 
 will wake up an enthusiasm of thought and feeling, 
 which he had hardly known before. Flowers have no 
 tongues and therefore have no outward speech ; but I 
 think they may be said to speak with the heart; and 
 sometimes they utter or suggest thoughts and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 389 
 
 enter into little affectionate conversations, which are 
 quite interesting. Some of the weary hours, which 
 were occupied in traversing the peninsula of Sinai, 
 were relieved by these little soliloquies. Allow me to 
 give you an instance ; which, for the sake of your 
 younger and less critical readers, I will put into verse. 
 
 One day in the desert 
 
 With pleasure I spied 
 A flower in its beauty 
 
 Looking up at my side. 
 And I said, Oh sweet flow'ret, 
 
 That bloomest alone, 
 What 's the worth of thy beauty, 
 
 Thus shining unknown ? 
 
 But the flower gave me answer, 
 
 With a smile quite divine ; 
 'Tis the nature, oh, stranger, 
 
 Of beauty to shine. 
 Take all I can give thee, 
 
 And when thou art gone, 
 The light that is in me, 
 
 Will keep shining on. 
 
 And, oh gentle stranger, 
 
 Permit me to say, 
 To keep up thy spirits 
 
 Along this lone way, 
 While tby heart shall flow outward 
 
 To gladden and bless, 
 The fount at its centre 
 
 Will never grow less. 
 
 I was struck with its answer, 
 
 And left it to glow 
 To the clear sky above it, 
 
 And the pale sands below ; 
 Above and around it 
 
 Its light to impart, 
 But never exhausting 
 
 The fount at its heart, 
 33* 
 
390 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 There is a system of philosophy supported by a 
 great and memorable name — and none the less me- 
 morable because he who bore it pursued his sublime 
 and difficult studies in the woods of America ; which 
 maintains that "virtue consists in the love of being 
 in general." That, I believe, is the form of expres- 
 sion — or very nearly the form of expression — in which 
 its leading doctrine is conveyed. It condemns isola- 
 tion. It frowns upon selfishness. Like the Sermon 
 on the Mount, which indeed may be supposed to have 
 suggested its leading principles, it looks favorably 
 and earnestly in the direction of wide and universal 
 attachments — not excluding even our enemies. It is 
 a sublime doctrine, and indicates the thoughts and 
 experiences of a far-reaching mind. Supported by its 
 precepts, which anticipate and require the restoration 
 of universal harmony, I am unwilling to set narrow 
 limits to my sympathies. And certainly, if I thus felt 
 sympathy with inanimate nature, the alliance of pri- 
 mitive harmony, if I may so express it, with the rock, 
 the fountain and the flower, I could not feel less with 
 anything and everything which has life in it. And 
 when at intervals I saw a bird flying in the air, or even 
 a lizard basking upon the heated, noonday sand, or a 
 mole excavating its dim mansion under the starlight, 
 I recognized that great and sacred tie, too long sun- 
 dered, but still reclaim able, which binds together all 
 existences. I will give one or two incidents in illus- 
 tration of my feelings. 
 
 When we entered upon the elevated plain extend- 
 ing to the southwest of the Elanitic Red Sea, I 
 noticed a little lamb following our caravan ; at first 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 391 
 
 led by some Arabs, and then left by them to fol- 
 low at his own will. I loved it as soon as I saw 
 it. It will be remembered that we were in the desert. 
 And there is only one solitude which the soul cannot 
 bear — that which is destitute of any object of affec- 
 tion. For some time this little lamb, which had thus 
 suddenly established a place in my affections, gave 
 me some trouble, because I was afraid it would stray 
 away and be lost. And I sometimes allowed my 
 companions to advance, while I lingered behind and 
 watched its motions. But my anxiety was perhaps 
 unnecessary. It would stop, and go aside from the 
 path among the rocks, and try to find something which 
 it could eat; and then looking up, and seeing the 
 company at a distance, it hastened with all the speed 
 of its little feet to rejoin it. I thought of the time 
 when God brought the creatures he had made to 
 Adam ; and he " gave their names to the beasts of the 
 fields and the birds of the air." A long way in the 
 wilderness did the lamb travel in this manner. At 
 night it slept like a little child, by the side of our 
 tents. There was something plaintive in its bleat as 
 it ran along through the day by the side of our camels, 
 as if some feeling or presentiment of sorrow mingled 
 with its affection. When we arrived at Niekel, which 
 I have mentioned in a former letter as one of the 
 frontier towns of Egypt, the lamb was killed. It had 
 followed us a long way over the desert. It came sadly 
 but confidingly to the place of its destruction. It 
 loved the hand that slew it. And I felt that a tie of 
 the heart was sundered, when I saw its blood in the 
 sand. 
 
392 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 In referring to these feelings, which I might not 
 have noticed so much at another time, they do not 
 seem to me to be at variance either with philosophy 
 or religion. The love of our Maker is one of the first 
 principles of practical religion. But is it possible for 
 man to love God as he ought to love him, without at 
 the same time loving, in an appropriate manner, all 
 the creatures he has made ? Perhaps it may be as- 
 cribed to emotional weakness ; but still it is difficult 
 for me to conceive of a man as bearing fully the di- 
 vine image, who has so little sensibility that he mars 
 the face of nature, by needlessly crushing a flower ; 
 and still more difficult, if he dishonors and offends 
 God by causelessly diminishing the happiness of any 
 sentient being, however insignificant it may be, which 
 is capable of happiness. 
 
 Now that I have availed myself of the broad title 
 which I have given to these letters, and have ventured 
 incidentally upon this subject, I will venture to give 
 one or two more illustrations. We have in our com- 
 pany a Syrian, whose name is Achmed. His home 
 is in Beiroot ; but he has come with us from Cairo. 
 He has with him a two-barrelled gun, which he uses 
 with skill. And while we were in the deserts, if a 
 bird or any living thing appeared, he endeavored to 
 shoot it. I strove to make him understand my feel- 
 ings ; but it was to little purpose. All I could do, 
 when I saw him aiming his gun, was to give a signal 
 by voice or action to the devoted bird ; or whatever 
 animal it was ; and this I did not fail to do, although 
 at the expense of incurring his displeasure. We were 
 very good friends, however, except in this matter ; in 
 which we found it impossible to agree. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 393 
 
 At Accaba our tent was pitched near the Red Sea; 
 and daily two large, beautiful birds sailed in the air 
 above us. I was delighted with them. One day the 
 report of a gun was heard. One of the birds fell up- 
 on the shore dead ; and Achmed brought his trophy 
 to our tent. I was offended. I knew that not a sparrow 
 falls to the ground without God's notice. I stood 
 silent. I could not praise his marksmanship. He soon 
 took the bird and carried it away, not very well satis- 
 fied at his reception, and threw it down under the 
 walls of Accaba. 
 
 I can hardly explain upon what motive or principle 
 I acted ; but I soon went away to the place, and sat 
 down upon the sand amid a ragged group of Arab 
 and Turkish children. They were not strong enough 
 to use guns, and were not old enough to lose their 
 natural sympathies. We sat there for a little time, 
 admiring the yellow beak of the bird, its fading eye, 
 and its long white wings ; and not without a feeling 
 of common sorrow. And I must confess that my 
 feelings of regret and grief were not diminished, when 
 I looked up, and saw its mate soaring above us with 
 uneasy wings. I suspected the object of his visit. — 
 His eye caught a sight of his dead companion. He 
 stooped his flight ; and passing directly above us, ut- 
 tered a low, moaning sound, which was full of sad- 
 ness ; as if he had said, — Farewell, companion of the 
 rocks and waves! Farewell, the light and joy of my 
 heart ! Our nest is desolate ; and the life of the living 
 is more sad than the death of the fallen : — 
 
 I see thy heaving heart with throbs dilate ; 
 I mark the shadows of thy closing eye j 
 Yes, thou art fallen lew, but shalt not die 
 Without a friend to mourn thy cruel fate. 
 
394 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 When there is so little life in the desert, either of 
 man or animals, why should man hesitate and be un- 
 willing to let it live ? I hope I shall give no offence 
 in saying, that both my instincts and my convictions 
 attach a sacredness both to life and to all the inno- 
 cent and right enjoyments of which it is susceptible. 
 Man, and the beasts of the field and the birds of the 
 air, once constituted but one family. And man can 
 not be restored to a millennial state without the res- 
 toration of the family in all its parts. The bird shall 
 sing to cheer him ; the beast shall feed from his hand ; 
 " the lion and the lamb shall lie down together ;" and 
 even the fishes of the river and sea shall again hear 
 man's voice in their deep habitations, and shall enter 
 once more into the circle of human sympathies. Al- 
 low me here to forget that I am on the borders of the 
 Mediterranean, and to return in memory for a few 
 moments to America. 
 
 A few years ago I read in a newspaper in America, 
 that the fishes in a certain pond had been tamed, and 
 brought back again, at least in some degree, into the 
 original association with humanity. Being at leisure 
 at a certain time, and having some curiosity to ascer- 
 tain the truth of this statement, I embarked in a boat 
 in Boston harbor, and in the boat I went down to 
 Hingham. It was near night. Next morning, and 
 quite early in the morning, I went towards the pond, 
 which was said to be the theatre of this interesting 
 and unprecedented state of things. I recollect that I 
 went through a long piece of woods, which was with- 
 out habitations, and which, in its tranquillity and 
 beauty was favorable to benevolent dispositions and 
 thoughts. The early sunbeams were playing with 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 395 
 
 the dew-drops ; and the birds were singing in the 
 branches. After passing through the woods and com- 
 ing in sight of the pond of water, I went to a farmer's 
 house not far from it. I knocked, and a good-looking 
 woman, with that intelligent and benevolent aspect 
 which marks the women of America, came to the 
 door. Making such apology as I was able for a visit 
 so early, I remarked that I had come for the pur- 
 pose of seeing the fishes in the neighboring pond, 
 which were said to be tamed. Readily accepting my 
 explanations, she pointed to a place on the brink of 
 the water, and said that one of her children would 
 soon come down there. 
 
 I had not stood there long before a little girl, appa- 
 rently anxious not to detain me, came running down. 
 She seated herself on a rock on the shore and looked 
 into the mirror of the morning waters, which reflected 
 back the delightful image of her innocent beauty. 
 She called to the fishes ; calling them sometimes by 
 the names of their tribes and sometimes by particular 
 names which she had given them. There was one, a 
 large one, which she called Cato. But Cato was in' 
 no hurry to come. She said it was rather early for 
 them. They had not yet left their places of slumber. 
 But repeating still more loudly the invitation of her 
 sweet voice, they began to make their appearance. 
 The smaller ones came first, and then the larger ones 
 of many varieties ; and at last Cato, who was a sort 
 of king and counsellor in this finny congregation, 
 came among them. Delighted with this renewed visit 
 of their virgin queen, although they seemed to be 
 conscious it was rather early in the morning, they 
 
396 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 thrust their heads above the water ; and she fed them 
 from her hand. And I fed them also. 
 
 Observing something peculiar at a liitle distance in 
 the water, I was surprised to see two turtles making 
 their way towards her. Her voice of affection had 
 penetrated beneath their dark, hard shells. And I no- 
 ticed that they came with great effort and zeal; as if 
 afraid of being too late at this festival of love. One 
 of them, as soon as they reached the shore, scrambled 
 out of the water, and climbed upon the little rock 
 beside her. And she fed them both. I shall not ea- 
 sily forget this interesting scene ; — this little episode 
 of millenial humanity. 
 
 It will not be considered surprising, I hope, that I 
 entered into conversation with this affectionate and 
 charming child. In the course of our conversation, 
 she told me she once had a brother, a little older than 
 herself, who had aided her in taming the fishes. But 
 he was now dead. This too touched my feelings. 
 How sad it was, thought I to myself, for such a sister 
 to part with such a brother. But she spoke of her 
 brother in such a way, that his benevolent spirit seem- 
 ed to be not far distant ; but to fill the air and to be 
 with us and around us where we stood. The expres- 
 sion she employed was, that her brother was dead. 
 And that is the way in which we are accustomed to 
 speak of those who are taken away from us. But I 
 always have a feeling that it can be said with much 
 propriety, that there is no death, and no possibility of 
 death to those who love. But it must be acknowled- 
 ged that this depends in part upon what we under- 
 stand love to be. Practically it seems to me to be a 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 397 
 
 heart, or rather a tendency of the heart, in harmony 
 with the happiness of all existences ; — a benevolence 
 which does not save one and smite another, but ac- 
 cepts and saves everything which does not reject and 
 spurn its offers of affection. This is the doctrine, I 
 suppose, of the distinguished American philosopher 
 to whom I have already referred. Such a principle, 
 having for its basis a correspondent faith, a principle 
 which can call down the birds of the mountain, and 
 tame the fishes of the lakes and sea, and when clothed 
 in song can make the very trees dance around it ac- 
 cording to the old Orphic melodies, — and what is 
 more, can make the lofty mountains move from their 
 places, according to the doctrine of Jesus Christ, — 
 such a principle, in passing upward through succes- 
 sive heights of glory, can change its form, but can 
 never lose its immortality. 
 
 Selfishness may perish. Indeed, it is dead already. 
 But love can never die. Poets say so. Prophets, 
 who are poets gifted with religious insight, say so. 
 Humanity, which in its better moments embellishes 
 poetry with the inspirations of prophesy, says so. 
 Love not only recognizes life, but is life. He who 
 does not know how to love, does not know how to 
 live. His life is the negation of living. The true 
 life is not in him. 
 
 But this is a digression. My apology is that I am 
 in a prison, which is called by a free license of speech, 
 a quarantine. The sight has its limitations ; but 
 thought, which employs itself with that which is be- 
 yond the reach of the senses, is not bound. And 
 this reminds me of a stanza of one of the touching 
 34 
 
398 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 poems of Madame Guyon, written when she was in 
 the prison of Vincennes : — 
 
 " My cage confines me Tound j 
 
 Abroad I cannot fly ; 
 But though my wing is closely bound. 
 
 My heart 's at liberty. 
 My prison walls cannot control 
 The flight, the freedom of the soul." 
 
 America is a great way from the wilderness of Sinai 
 and from the sandy ruins of Gaza. The memory of 
 the beautiful apparition, the loving and lovely daugh- 
 ter of the American woods, who stood upon the wa- 
 ter's brink and charmed its pleased and obedient in- 
 habitants, does not restore the slain lamb of Niekel 
 or the wounded and dying bird of Accaba. But in 
 the great law of progress mercy is preceded by suffer- 
 ing; and truth is established on the falsehood which 
 it destroys. Perhaps some flower of the desert will 
 spring up from their blood. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE MAIDEN FISH-TAMER. 
 
 Oh maiden of the woods and wave, 
 
 With footsteps in the morning dew ! 
 
 From oozy bed and watery cave, 
 
 The tenants of the lake who drew. 
 
 Thy voice of love the mystery knew, 
 
 Which makes old bards and prophets true. 
 
 They tell us of that better day, 
 
 When love shall rule the world again ; 
 
 When crime and fraud shall pass away, 
 
 And beast and bird shall dwell with men ; 
 
 When seas shall marry with the land, 
 
 And fishes kiss a maiden's hand. 
 
 The iron age has done its best 
 
 With trump and sword and warriors slain ; 
 
 But could not tame the eagle's nest 
 Nor lead the lion by the mane ; 
 
 With all its strength and all its woe, 
 
 There was an art it did not know. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 399 
 
 >Twas fitting that a maid like thee, 
 
 In childhood's bright and happy hour, 
 
 Should teach the world the mystery 
 That innocence alone has power j 
 
 That love the victory can gain, 
 
 Which is not won by millions slain. 
 
 Oh man, if thou wouldst know the art 
 
 The shatter'd world to reinstate, 
 Like her put on a toying heart, 
 
 And throw away thy guile and hate. 
 A maid shall tell thee how 'tis done, 
 A child shall show the victory won. 
 
 (XLIII.) 
 
 Reference to Egypt — Topics omitted — Wilderness of Sinai — The his- 
 torical and literary interest which attaches to it — Early history of 
 Moses — Scholars of the desert — John Climachus — Analysis of the 
 influence and love of solitude — Personal recollections — Poetry. 
 
 QUARANTINE OF GAZA, PASHALIC OF SYRIA, 
 
 THIRD LETTER. 
 
 You will not expect me, while shut up in these 
 narrow walls to give very extensive details of what I 
 am seeing ; but rather, if I write anything, of what I 
 am thinking. It does not follow, because the sight is 
 restricted that the principle of thought is restricted 
 and bound in an equal degree. And I find that 
 this season of detention, in refusing to gratify the 
 outward curiosity, is, on the whole, favorable to in- 
 ward reflection. 
 
 In justice to myself, and still more in justice to 
 the memorable scenes through which we have so far 
 passed, I ought to say something in the way of apolo- 
 gy. In passing through Egypt, I wrote a number of 
 letters from Thebes and other places, in which I gave 
 a brief account of some of the numerous objects which 
 
400 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 came under notice, and of the impressions which 
 they left upon the mind. But for reasons which it is 
 unnecessary to detail, I was obliged to leave many 
 things unsaid, — to some of which I will take this op- 
 portunity briefly to refer ; — not with a view, however, 
 to fill up the deficiency at the present time. 
 
 And one of the subjects thus passed over is the 
 primitive religion, or rather the system of religious 
 opinions, which prevailed in ancient Egypt. This 
 subject, it is true, is briefly mentioned in the histories 
 of ancient philosophical opinions ; but it seemed to 
 me that it ought to be more fully meditated and stu- 
 died. And this more complete examination of it can 
 be made to the fullest advantage only in one place, 
 namely, in its own appropriate locality, among the 
 mountains and tombs of Egypt and in the presence of 
 the hieroglyphics and symbols, which show the hope- 
 less but great. struggles of that remarkable people to 
 ascertain those moral and religious ideas, which throw 
 light upon man's position and destiny. Another topic, 
 which I was compelled to pass by without remark, 
 but which can hardly fail to force itself upon the at- 
 tention of every traveller who is capable of serious 
 reflection, is the perplexed and obscure question of 
 the origin and history of Egyptian culture. From 
 what lands did this people come ? What earlier civili- 
 zation was the parent of their own ? Did it find its 
 way along the course of the Nile from those distant 
 Ethiopians, who are celebrated for their noble quali- 
 ties by Homer ? Or did it come more directly 
 from some Oriental source? There is also another 
 subject, on which I have omitted hitherto to remark ; 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 401 
 
 I mean the peculiarities of Egyptian art, and espe- 
 cially, as compared with Grecian, Roman, and mod- 
 ern art. Any view of Egypt, which is unattended 
 with some suggestions and explanations on these sub- 
 jects, must fail of giving full satisfaction. But one, 
 who knows the difficulty of such subjects, even with 
 the aid of leisure and books, will hardly expect me 
 to make the attempt under the existing unfavorable 
 circumstances. And perhaps it may be thought with 
 reason by some, that such discussions, involving as 
 they do mental problems as well as material and his- 
 torical facts, are more suited to philosophical treatises 
 than to the slight memoranda of journalizing and 
 letter-writing. 
 
 In my last letter I substituted for my usual narra- 
 tive of our progress from place to place some little 
 memoranda of my personal feelings. In this letter 
 also, I do not propose to continue the narrative of 
 our journey ; but shall occupy it with a few things 
 which I might forget or omit to say at another time. 
 In my last letter I said I had left the desert; but it 
 was in person and not in memory. I had something 
 to say of the desert then ; and I have something fur- 
 ther to say now. The word desert is a very general 
 term, including more than one locality, which is char- 
 acterized by barrenness. The country from Cairo to 
 Suez is a desert ; but it differs much in its character- 
 istics from the desert of the peninsula of Sinai, and 
 has less interest for travellers. The peninsula of Sinai, 
 which, in reaching this place, we have crossed in two 
 directions, is formed by the two arms of the Red Sea, 
 — -the gulf of Suez extending north, and the gulf of 
 34* 
 
402 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 Elan extending east. Remarkable in its natural fea- 
 tures, the wilderness of the peninsula of Sinai is re- 
 markable, as it seems to me, for other reasons. I can 
 not deny that the desolate regions, over which we 
 have so far passed, have to me something of the claims 
 and the aspect of " classic ground" They are the lo- 
 cality of Moses ; — and associated as they are with his 
 achievements and purposes, they are hallowed by the 
 memory of great deeds and of a great name. Pos- 
 sessed of a mind above the ordinary degree of human 
 intelligence, the Hebrew legislator and moralist w T as 
 instructed in the best institutions of Egypt. It is not 
 beyond the bounds of reason and of probability, that 
 he studied in the schools of Heliopolis;— unless there 
 were others at that time, which boasted a higher learn- 
 ing and were more adapted to the children of the 
 families of kings. The book of nature also, laid open 
 in its fairest characters on the beautiful banks of the 
 Nile, was exposed to the meditations of his thoughtful 
 mind; — a book full of positive and suggestive revela- 
 tions. And here also, on the banks of the same won- 
 derful river, were the treasures of art; — the concep- 
 tions of great minds, shaped into stone and marble in 
 the hope of giving perpetuity to thought and affection. 
 On the lofty columns and walls, which existed even 
 in that primitive period, he read the records of early 
 history; — and the lessons also of domestic affection 
 and of moral truth ; — mingled and deformed, undoubt- 
 edly, with the imperfect ideas and the struggling but 
 disappointed hopes of a debased idolatry. " Learned 
 in all the wisdom of the Egyptians," he had read the 
 hieroglyphics before they were read by Champollion. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 403 
 
 And it may be added that his Egyptian training, 
 whatever it was, did not prevent his acceptance and 
 mastery of that other and higher culture, characterized 
 by its Aramean origin, which had quietly established 
 and perfected itself among his own people. There 
 was learning in the land of Goshen ; and Moses was 
 not ignorant of it. The Hebrew culture was religious, 
 and aided by the inward presence and teachings of 
 the God of his fathers, it placed him upon that higher 
 and better position, which enabled him to understand 
 and appreciate the truths and errors of other cultures. 
 Placed in the most favorable position, and prompted 
 by the highest inward inspirations, he beheld all, knew 
 all, appreciated all. 
 
 An Egyptian by adoption, but a Hebrew by birth 
 and by nature, it was natural that his heart should be 
 kindled with generous and zealous sentiments in favor 
 of his own people. Baffled in his early efforts to in- 
 struct and deliver them, because perhaps his wisdom 
 and charity were not yet developed in proportion to 
 his zeal, — God saw fit, so to order his providences as 
 to drive him away into this very wilderness. 
 
 One day as I was travelling in the wilderness, I saw 
 a small Bedouin village in the midst of high hills, 
 skirting and overhanging the level plain over which 
 we were passing. It is but reasonable to suppose, 
 that this little community, like all others, had its ruler, 
 a man unknown to the world, but still the father and 
 chieftain of his small but solitary people, — the Jethro 
 of the desert. At a little distance was a watering 
 place ; — flocks and groups of camels were standing 
 near ; and the maidens of the village drew water 
 
404 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 \ 
 
 and they drank. It was to such a place that Moses 
 fled, — exchanging the fertile valley for the arid plain, 
 the rich Nile for places without rivers, the recorded 
 instructions of towering monuments for the sugges- 
 tive eloquence of lonely mountains; and the teachings 
 of priests and the wise men of Egypt for the conversa- 
 tions of a shepherd and a patriarch in the wilderness, 
 and for woman's love. Jethro had daughters. The 
 Hebrew exile saw, loved and married. He, who with 
 man's energy and unchastened passion, had slain an 
 Egyptian in Egypt, became a little child in Midian. 
 He, who had trod the pavements of palaces and had 
 been in some sense the heir of kingdoms, was willing 
 to dwell in tents, to carry the crook of a shepherd, and 
 to follow after the flock. It is in such transitions from 
 glory to obscurity and silence, from riches to desola- 
 tion, from the city to the desert, that men learn the 
 great lesson of the relation of human actions to God's 
 oversight ; and that there is a power above us which 
 shapes our existence and is the master of our destiny. 
 Napoleon was a wiser man on the rock of St. Helena, 
 than he had been in the palace of the Tuilleries. And 
 Moses, who had slain an Egyptian and hid him in the 
 sand, experienced the inspiration of higher and better 
 thoughts when he watered his flocks and camels in 
 the wilderness, or was seated on its solitary rocks by 
 the side of those whom he loved. 
 
 To what precise part of the peninsula of Sinai Mo- 
 ses went, is uncertain. The country of Midian, which 
 is mentioned in connection with his place of exile, 
 seems to have extended west of the Elanitic Gulf as 
 far as the region of Horeb. If this view is correct, it 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 405 
 
 would harmonize with one of the traditions still re- 
 peated at Sinai, that Jethro, his father-in-law, resided 
 in the narrow valley of Shu-Eib, which runs between 
 Sinai and the heights of E-Dayr. 
 
 Many years he dwelt in these wonderful solitudes ; 
 — recalling the memory of his ancestors, reducing to 
 form in the beautiful language of his own people their 
 unexampled traditions, — pondering the problems of 
 Providence, — studying minutely the geography of that 
 wide wilderness which he foresaw was to be the thea- 
 tre of great achievements, and awaiting that mys- 
 terious hour, when God speaks and man is silent. 
 God spake to him in the burning bush. The Greek 
 monks who still linger in these regions, pointed out 
 to us the traditionary place. It is within the limits 
 of the convent of St. Catherine. It is not especially 
 important, whether we suppose that the burning bush 
 was here or in some other valley or plain in the vicini- 
 ty of the great mountain. Its blaze must have ascend- 
 ed somewhere in this region ; and though it has gone 
 out in the wilderness, and darkness has gathered upon 
 its place, it may be said to exist and to burn forever 
 in the locality of memory , — and the great words, 
 which were uttered in its fires, are still sounding in 
 all lands. It was no false god of Egypt or Syria, no 
 Osiris or Thammuz, but the God without form, the 
 I am, who spake. 
 
 In the fulfilment of the great mission, which the 
 God of his fathers had assigned him, he set out for 
 Egypt. He had fled into exile alone ; and he returned 
 alone. He had learned in the wilderness, that affec- 
 tion can grow up among the sands and rocks. He 
 
406 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 left behind him his aged father-in-law, and his wife 
 and children, who fed his flocks, and kept the fires of 
 his tent burning; till he, who went forth as a father, 
 should return a father, a law-giver, and a prophet. 
 He planted his foot on the banks of the Nile. He 
 came back to the palaces of Memphis. He said what 
 God gave him to say. He, who speaks for God, has 
 no other than God's message. Kings trembled. The 
 nation mourned. The Nile ran blood. The chain of 
 the people of his fathers was broken. 
 
 I think, therefore, there is no impropriety in speak- 
 ing of the peninsula of Sinai, though a land without 
 rivers or verdure, as classic land. In these solitudes 
 was written a code of laws, differing from any other, 
 but still remarkably adapted to the times and the peo- 
 ple, which places their author in the records of civil 
 and political history by the side of Solon and Lycur- 
 gus. The learned commentaries of Michaelis will 
 justify a remark, which might otherwise seem an ex- 
 aggeration. In these regions, stretching from the Nile 
 to the Jordan, were written those remarkable annals 
 of the beginnings of the human race, which are the 
 starting-points and the foundations of human his- 
 tory. As a moralist, he spake as no one had spoken 
 before him ; and as a poet, touching the varied strings 
 of human passion, he has passages, which remind one 
 sometimes of the tenderness of Virgil, and sometimes 
 of the sublimity of Pindar. 
 
 In these regions, thousands of years later, but still 
 in a venerable antiquity as compared with the present 
 time, have resided no small number of Christians ; — 
 some of whom fled from persecutions in Egypt and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 407 
 
 other lands ; and others sought these remote solitudes 
 with a view to greater retirement from the world and 
 more intimate communion with God. Strange as it 
 may seem, it is undoubtedly true that men of distin- 
 guished talent and learning have formerly dwelt in 
 these places. Sometimes they resided in convents, 
 the ruins of which are still found in the gorges of 
 these mountains ; — and not unfrequently they took up 
 their solitary abode in lonely caverns, excavated by 
 nature or by the hand of art. Among the residents 
 who once gave a celebrity to places which are now 
 scarcely trodden by human footsteps, some of whom 
 were named in a former letter, mention is made by 
 ecclesiastical historians of Sylvanus and Nilus ; — 
 names worthy of remembrance, but better known to 
 Catholics than Protestants. Either in a cell in the 
 rocks of El-Leja or in a small convent of that valley, 
 a few miles distant from the convent of St. Catherine, 
 the celebrated John Climachus spent many years of 
 his life. It is difficult to conceive how he could have 
 developed the powers of his mind under such circum- 
 stances; but he was favorably known as a scholar and 
 a writer. His " Ladder of Christian Perfection," ori- 
 ginally written ill Greek, has been translated into 
 other languages ; — a work which discovers great in- 
 sight into the human heart; and which, in some of 
 its passages, will compare favorably with the celebra- 
 ted " Imitation of Christ." 
 
 An interesting literary and ecclesiastical history 
 might be written of the men who resided during the 
 first centuries of the Christian era in the mountains 
 and rocky gorges of the Thebaid and of the peninsula 
 
408 LETTERS— ESTHETIC, 
 
 of Sinai. And it is in the history of these men and 
 of others similarly situated, that we find one of those 
 problems of human nature, which suggest inquiries 
 and furnish food for reflection. 
 
 On what principle is it, that men in all ages of the 
 world, men of great capacities and the finest sensi- 
 bilities, have valued much the places and hours of 
 retirement, and have loved to be alone ? In some 
 cases such persons have chosen solitude as a necessary 
 condition of an ascetic life : — with them solitude is a 
 means to an end. They have first chosen suffering, 
 and then have chosen solitude as an auxiliary of suf- 
 fering, and both as an expiation for their personal 
 sins, and as a means of propitiating the Divine favor. 
 The sincerity of these persons, though it may lay a 
 claim upon our charity, furnishes no reason for an ac- 
 ceptance or mitigation of their error. It is not wis- 
 dom on the part of man to undertake that, which is 
 appropriate to a Divine nature. The Lamb of God, 
 " slain from the foundation of the world," is slain for 
 ever. The expiation is made ; the door of entrance 
 is opened ; God wants and asks no other atonement. 
 
 Others, again, without any idea of meriting heaven 
 by ascetism or by any form of human suffering, have 
 fled into the wilderness, to avoid the temptations of 
 great cities and of too much intercourse with the 
 world. In the desert they supposed, that riches could 
 not tempt, that honor could not allure, that beauty 
 could not entice them. The desire of finding a place, 
 in which he should be exempt from temptation, seems 
 to have been the principal motive, which influenced 
 St. Jerome, when he left Italy and the palaces of the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 409 
 
 imperial city, for a residence in the Syrian desert. 
 And this is a motive certainly, which is worthy of 
 respect, though not without its dangers and its disap- 
 pointments. 
 
 And there is something further. To thoughtful and 
 expansive minds, whatever may be the peculiar inci- 
 dents of their situation, solitude is to some extent a 
 necessity. Oftentimes, in the case of such men, the 
 harmonious development of their own thoughts and 
 feelings is perplexed by the discordant alliances and 
 claims of society ; and they seek retirement as a neces- 
 sary means to the proper adjustment and perfection of 
 their inward nature. In solitude they escape the 
 storms around them ; and outward harmony is the 
 precursor of inward peace. The history of the dis- 
 tinguished men of all ages will illustrate and confirm 
 these remarks. It is in the reflections which are en- 
 gendered in solitude that the soul, turning in upon it- 
 self discovers the endless filaments of its mysterious 
 destiny, and unites itself with God in uniting itself 
 to everything to which God is related. It goes down 
 into the depths and it finds him there ; — it ascends 
 into the heights and it finds him there ; — it turns in 
 upon its own centre, and in the spirit of penitence 
 and of faith it finds him there also. 
 
 And on this subject I may perhaps claim the liberty 
 of saying something from experience. It is still true, 
 as it was in the times of the ancient prophets, that 
 there is a voice in the wilderness. It is still possible 
 for the soul, in some of its aspects, to be nurtured in 
 solitude and among the rocks. The mighty desola- 
 tions, through which we have passed, operating upon 
 35 
 
410 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 the heart as well as upon the intellect, have some- 
 times called out spiritual tones and harmonies from 
 the soul's depths, and have filled the whole mind with 
 various and high emotion. The desert, which may 
 be regarded as the imperfect hieroglyphic of the great 
 thought which made it, presents, in its first impres- 
 sion, the idea of vastness in chaos. And when we 
 were working our way through sands without verdure, 
 and among immense rocks piled together in mys- 
 terious confusion, it sometimes seemed to me, as if 
 we were carried back, by a transposition of places and 
 ages, into the primitive workshop of experimental 
 creation. The hand of the Almighty, as mountains 
 from summit to base were opened before us, appeared 
 to be laying the foundations of some mighty habita- 
 tion. And then again, seeing in other places the ad- 
 justment of rock to rock, and of the successive strata 
 and layers in which the earth's materials arrange 
 themselves, I discovered the beginnings of order grow- 
 ing out of confusion ; and had new conceptions, both 
 of the world's strength, and of the strength and wis- 
 dom of its great architect. And if the mountains and 
 the rocks gave the idea of power in action, the vast, 
 arid plains, wide as a bright and motionless ocean, 
 gave the additional conception of power and majesty 
 in repose; — the one being the image of God in agen- 
 cy and the other of God in rest. 
 
 I am obliged to say, therefore, that a journey through 
 the wilderness of Sinai, which brings with it so many 
 great thoughts as the product of its chaotic vastness, 
 not only furnishes no apology for irreligion, no apolo- 
 gy for atheistic unbelief ; but on the contrary, pro- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 411 
 
 claims hostility against a light and irreverent spirit. 
 God is there. His footprints are in the sand. His 
 voice is heard in the winds. His name is written with 
 sunbeams on the rocks. The very silence utters him. 
 I wanted repose ; and I found it in the desert. I 
 wanted communion with God ; and I found it there. 
 I found it in the day, in the vastness of its objects 
 and its silence. I found it still more in the night, 
 when magnitude enlarges itself, and silence becomes 
 more silent. I found it in the earth beneath ; and in 
 the heavens above. Often I watched the stars. Beau- 
 tiful as the heavenly mansions, they looked out from 
 their blue abodes, — clear and lovely — as if they were 
 the eyes of that great Being who fills their urns with 
 light. There was one with its large angelic eye that 
 came with peculiar sweetness. It danced upon the 
 mountain tops. It had no audible utterance ; but 
 there was a divine language in its smile, which spoke 
 of heavenly peace. It was in the desert of Sinai, that 
 I gave it a place in my memory. It was in the vast 
 wilderness, which had inspired the prophetic impulses 
 and the songs of Moses, that I watched the mild 
 splendor of its beams, and endeavored to record the 
 emotions excited by its mysterious but lovely presence. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN IN THE WILDERNESS OF SINAI. 
 
 I marked the bright, the silver star, 
 
 That nightly deek'd our desert way, 
 As shining from its depths afar, 
 
 Its heavenly radiance seem'd to say ; 
 Oh look ! From mists and shadows clear, 
 My cheering light is always here. 
 
 I saw thee. And at once I knew, 
 Star of the desert, in my heart ;— . 
 
412 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 That thou didst shine, the embiem true 
 
 Of that bright star, whose beams impart, 
 From night to night, from day to day, 
 The solace of their inward ray. 
 
 There is a beam to light the mind ; 
 
 There is a star the soul to cheer ; 
 And they, that heavenly light who find, 
 
 Shall always see it burning clear ; 
 The same its bright, celestial face, 
 In every change of time and place. 
 
 Star of my heart, that long hast shone, 
 To cheer the inward spirit's sky ! 
 
 Illumin'd from the heavenly throne, 
 Thou hast a ray that cannot die. 
 
 'Tis Gad that lights thee. And with Him 
 
 No sky is dark ; no star is dim. 
 
 (XLIV.) 
 
 .Arrival at Askelon — City of Azotus, the ancient Ashdod — Territory of 
 the ancient Philistines — Jaffa, the ancient Joppa — Biblical refer- 
 ences — Town of Lydda — Town of Ramleh — View from the Tow- 
 er of Ramleh — Valley of Ajalon — Kirjath Jearim — Arrival at Je- 
 rusalem — Poetry. 
 
 PALESTINE, CITY OF JERUSALEM, MAY 16, 1853. 
 
 We left Gaza on Tuesday, the tenth of May, and 
 arrived at the city of Jerusalem on the thirteenth. 
 After leaving the place of quarantine, where we had 
 been kept four days, we went into the modern city of 
 Gaza, which is a mile and a half distant from the site 
 of the ancient Gaza, and spent a short time in its ba- 
 zaars and streets. We could only look and pass on. 
 But judging thus, it had the appearance of being a 
 place of considerable enterprise and business ; though 
 like the cities of the east generally, it is but the shadow 
 of the greatness of the ancient city. In leaving the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 413 
 
 city we passed numerous gardens in a high state of 
 cultivation. These gardens were protected for the 
 most part by the high natural fence, formed by the 
 intertwining branches and the large leaves of the prick- 
 ly pear. The gardens were succeeded at a little dis- 
 tance from the city by a forest of olive trees, the most 
 of them very old, which extend a number of miles. 
 
 We reached about the middle of the same day, the 
 city of Askelon, another of the Philistine cities ; and 
 spent a short time in wandering among the numerous 
 scattered columns and "broken walls and arches which 
 testify strongly to a former period of wealth and pow- 
 er. Like Gaza it is on the shore of the Mediterra- 
 nean, and was once a place of commerce. Askelon 
 is often mentioned in the history of the Crusades. 
 
 About sunset of the same day we came to Ashdod. 
 It was to this place, that the Ark of the Lord, after 
 the defeat of the Israelites in the time of Samuel was 
 brought, and was placed in the house of Dagon, the 
 god of the Philistines. This town, called in the Old 
 Testament Ashdod, is the Azotus of the New Testa- 
 ment. And hence it is said of the Apostle Philip after 
 his separation from the Ethiopian eunuch, that he 
 was found at Azotus. The country around Ashdod 
 is not without fertility and appears to be well cultiva- 
 ted. As we approached it, we passed through large 
 fields of grain, occupied by busy reapers. In a wide 
 open space near the entrance of the city were numer- 
 ous piles of wheat and barley ; and oxen, generally 
 four abreast, were treading out the grain after the 
 oriental manner. In a grove outside of the city we 
 pitched our tents and encamped for the night, 
 35* 
 
414 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 It seemed obvious to me, that the territory of the 
 ancient Philistines, though of very limited extent, was 
 originally of great fertility, and capable of sustaining 
 large numbers of people. Some of the passages of 
 the Old Testament which refer to them, imply that 
 they had a knowledge of the mechanic arts. They 
 were certainly a powerful people at an early period ; 
 and their wars with the Israelites, in which, in the 
 confidence of their strength, they defied the armies of 
 the living God, are familiar to the readers of the Bi" 
 ble. The character and location of the country, con- 
 sidered in relation to the territories of the Israelites, 
 and the location of the principal cities so often men- 
 tioned in the Bible, are such as to strengthen one's 
 confidence in the exactness of the Scriptural narra- 
 tives. 
 
 From Ashdod, which we passed through without 
 stopping, but which had the appearance of being a 
 populous and comparatively nourishing town, we pro- 
 ceeded early the next morning on our way to Jaffa, 
 the ancient Joppa. — Deviating from the direct route 
 to Jerusalem, we reached this city the same day.— • 
 Jaffa is situated on a rocky eminence overlooking 
 the Mediterranean ; and seen at a distance, had an 
 aspect beautiful and imposing ; but which failed, how- 
 ever, to be realized, when we had entered its narrow 
 streets. It is a walled town with fortifications. It once 
 had a good but small harbor, formed and protected by 
 the natural sea-wall of a continuous line of circuitous 
 rocks ; but the depth of water is so diminished by ac- 
 cumulations of sand and other things, that large vessels 
 anchor beyond the rocks in the open ocean. The stea- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 415 
 
 mers from Beirout to Alexandria and Marseilles touch 
 at this place. A small portion of the inhabitants of 
 this city profess the Christian faith. The American 
 Consul at Jaffa is a native of the country, and in his 
 religion an Armenian ; but of that class of Armenians 
 now known as Bible or -reformed Armenians. He is 
 a man of intelligence and wealth ; and insisted on 
 lodging us at one of his own beautiful residences a 
 little out of the city. He seemed to understand and 
 appreciate the rising wealth and power of the Ameri- 
 can States ; and spoke in high terms of the character 
 and influence of the American missionaries in Syria, 
 with whose labors he appeared to be well acquainted. 
 
 This city, which holds a conspicuous place in po- 
 litical and military history, has also its biblical and 
 religious associations. Only about forty miles distant 
 from Jerusalem, it has always been regarded as the 
 sea-port of that city. The wood of Lebanon, used in 
 the great edifices built in the time of Solomon, was 
 brought in " floats by sea to Joppa," and transported 
 from Joppa to Jerusalem by land. It was to this 
 place that Jonah came, and from which he set sail 
 for Tarshish, in disobedience to the command, which 
 required him to go and preach against Nineveh. It 
 was here that Dorcas resided — celebrated for her good 
 works ; and who was restored to life by the apostle 
 Peter. Here was the residence of Simon the tanner 
 whose " house was by the sea-side," and with whom 
 Peter " abode many days." 
 
 We reached Joppa, — if I may be allowed to use the 
 ancient and historical name, — on the eleventh ; and 
 proceeded the next day to the pleasant and flourish- 
 
416 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 ing town of Ramleh ; — visiting on our way the village 
 of Lyd the ancient Lydda, mentioned particularly in 
 the Acts of the Apostles. It is said of the Apostle 
 Peter, that " he came down also to the saints which 
 dwelt at LyddaP It was here that he miraculously 
 healed iEneas, a man who had been eight years sick 
 with the palsy. And it is added by the historian, in 
 speaking of iEneas, that " all that dwelt at Lydda 
 and Saron saw him and turned to the Lord." Lydda 
 is spoken of as being " nigh to Joppa ;" and Peter 
 was here preaching the Gospel to the people when 
 the people of Joppa sent for him on the occasion of 
 the sickness and death of Dorcas. Christianity was 
 early established in this retired place ; and the proba- 
 bility is, that it was sustained, and that it flourished 
 here for some time. There are still to be seen the 
 beautiful remains of an early Christian church. 
 
 Accepting and valuing the Bible as revealing the 
 foundations of Christian hope, I cannot express the 
 satisfaction I feel, in finding everywhere the confirma- 
 tions of its truth. I found these confirmations at 
 Rome, at Naples, at Malta. And on the Nile which 
 washes the land of Goshen and at the Red Sea which 
 was divided by the rod of Moses, and in the deserts 
 of Sinai, and among the mountains of Idumea, these 
 confirmations have been repeated. They are written 
 as a part of a nation's history on the walls of Thebes. 
 They are inscribed, in fulfilment of prophecy, on the 
 fallen columns of Askelon. I find them here. 
 
 Proceeding from this early scene of the Apostle 
 Peter's preaching and miraculous labors, we reached 
 the town of Ramleh on the afternoon of the same 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 417 
 
 day ; — which indeed, is but a short distance, some 
 three or four miles from Lydda. It is a walled town 
 of considerable size. It was near sunset when we 
 arrived. At the distance of half a mile from its walls 
 there stands a lofty and lonely tower ; a memorial of 
 past ages but with a history unknown. It is an hun- 
 dred and thirty feet in height; and is erected of hewn 
 stone in successive stories, which dimmish in size as 
 they approach the top. Around it at no great distance 
 are vaulted sub-structures, which will probably be 
 found to have a connection with its history, when 
 that history shall be ascertained. It already threw its 
 long evening shadow ; but we had time to ascend it ; 
 and in the last rays of the setting sun to witness the 
 wide and varied prospect from its summit. It was a 
 scene of surpassing beauty ; — the land of fields and 
 gardens, of the fig-tree and pomegranate, the " olive 
 and the vine." The shepherd was returning with his 
 flocks from the fields. The fertile territories of an- 
 cient Philistia were beneath us. The eye rested upon 
 the vales of Sharon, whose bloom has not yet withered. 
 The rocky heights of the "hill country of Judea," 
 were in sight. 
 
 On the morning of the next day, and only at a few 
 miles distance from Ramleh, we passed in sight of the 
 valley of Ajalon ; — the scene of the hard-fought bat- 
 tles and the stupendous miracle of Joshua. "And he 
 said, in the sight of Israel, sun, stand thou still upon 
 Gibeon ; and thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon" 
 And it was thus, from this time onward, that almost 
 every mountain and valley had its Scriptural associa- 
 tions and interest. After a few hours travel further, 
 
418 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 we stopped again for some time at the ancient town 
 of Kirjath Jearim. Here also, as well as at Ramlah 
 and Lydda, were what we supposed to be the remains 
 of a place of early Christian worship. Situated on 
 the side of a hill, this town is strong and imposing in 
 its position ; and has a picturesque appearance. The 
 valleys below and the heights around are covered with 
 groves of olives. The circumstance, that for twenty 
 years the Ark of the Lord rested at Kirjath Jearim, 
 gave it a peculiar interest. 
 
 We now rapidly approached the termination of our 
 journey ; or perhaps I should rather say, approached 
 the principal object we had in view in journeying ;— 
 the city, which embodies, to the Christian at least, 
 more interesting associations than any other in the 
 world. The city of Jerusalem is built upon a hill, or 
 rather a connected range of hills ;— the hill of Zion, 
 the hill of Moriah, the hill of Acra. But considered 
 in reference to the lofty eminences around it, it seems 
 to be almost in a valley. So that in looking upon it, 
 we readily felt the propriety of the expression of the 
 Scriptures, — " the mountains are round about Jerusa- 
 lem." We approached it over one of these surround- 
 ing heights, which is almost without trees and with- 
 out verdure. It is thickly covered with rocks. And 
 the narrow way which winds over it, is exceedingly 
 rough and difficult ; — so much so as to perplex even 
 the careful tread of the camel and the experienced 
 foot of Syrian horses. As we passed the summit of 
 this difficult height, which we were a long time in 
 reaching, we came in view of the long irregular line 
 of the city walls. We met many poor people, for the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 419 
 
 most part women, returning to their homes in the 
 neighboring villages. They had a cheerful aspect. It 
 was near night. The shadows were settling in the 
 valley of Jehoshaphat. We entered the city on the 
 western side, over the hill of Zion and through the 
 Bethlehem gate. This gate opens nearly under the 
 massive tower of David. As I passed beneath its 
 heavy arch I felt that the desire of a life was accom- 
 plished. What a scene! What associations! Other 
 lands have their history, their character, their associa- 
 tions, their greatness. But Palestine, as compared 
 with all others, is emphatically the sacred land; — 
 the dwelling-place of patriarchs, prophets, apostles; — 
 the scene of visits and holy communications between 
 heaven and earth. Every valley is a tomb ; — every 
 mountain a monument. Wherever I turn my eyes, 
 the dimness of distant history becomes actual vision. 
 I look from my window, and my eye rests upon the 
 hill of Moriah, upon the site of the Temple of Solo- 
 mon, upon the Mount of Olives and upon the sup- 
 posed place of the Crucifixion. 
 
 Oh land of men of other days ! 
 
 Where bards and ancient prophets trod. 
 The land of rapt Isaiah's lays, 
 The land of David's psalms of praise, 
 
 Land of the men of God. 
 
 And if 'tis not enough of fame, 
 
 To be the home of prophets, — then, 
 From all thy hills and rocks proclaim 
 The higher and more glorious name 
 
 Of Him who died for men. 
 
 In vain, like birds on ocean's foam 
 
 When tossed amid a troubled sea, 
 In vain the sad in spirit roam, 
 In search of resting place or home, 
 
 Who turn away from thee. 
 
420 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 By thee the seal of doubt is broken, 
 
 Which long to human hearts had pressed ; 
 By thee alone the words are spoken, 
 Which "peace on earth" and love betoken, 
 And give the weary rest. 
 
 The clouds of Sinai's mount proclaim 
 
 The law that wakes the spirit's fears ; 
 From Calvary's height the message came, 
 The law of love for that of flame, 
 Love for the coming years. 
 
 Land of the soul ! forever dear ; 
 
 Wide o'er the world the words impart, 
 Which turn to hope despairing fear ; 
 Which dry the penitential tear, 
 
 And heal the bleeding heart. 
 
 (XLV.) 
 
 Excursion from Jerusalem — Village of Bethany — Tomb of Lazarus — 
 Road to Jericho — Fountain of the Apostles — Bedouins — Mountain 
 of Quarantana — Fount of Elisha — Brook Cherith — Modern Jeri- 
 cho — The river. Jordan — The Dead Sea. 
 
 PALESTINE, CITY OF JERUSALEM, SECOND LETTER. 
 
 On Tuesday of this week, the seventeenth, we left 
 Jerusalem on an excursion for a few days to Jericho, 
 the Jordan, and other places of interest, from which 
 we have just returned. I propose to give a little ac- 
 count of this excursion. 
 
 We left the city by St. Stephen's Gate, which is on 
 the eastern side of the city, and is said to be the same 
 with the " Sheep Gate" of the Scriptures. Descend- 
 ing the steep side of Mount Moriah into the valley of 
 Jehoshaphat, and crossing the brook Kedron, which 
 flows through this valley, we went a short distance 
 along the base of the Mount of Olives ; and then turn- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 421 
 
 ing and passing its southern extremity, we came to 
 the village of Bethany. This village is two miles dis- 
 tant from the city of Jerusalem by the route which 
 we now took, although a little less, I suppose, by the 
 more direct path over the summit of the Mount of 
 Olives. The road which we took, is the great road 
 from Jerusalem to Jericho ; the same which was trav- 
 elled in the time of Christ, and which had been trav- 
 elled hundreds and perhaps thousands of years before. 
 At the distance of about a mile and a half from Jeru- 
 salem, on a point of land projecting into a deep val- 
 ley, and on the right of the road, we noticed the re- 
 mains of an ancient village, which is supposed by 
 some to have been the village of Bethphage. This 
 village is mentioned in the New Testament in con- 
 nection with Bethany, as being " at the Mount of 
 Olives." 
 
 The village of Bethany was the favored place, to 
 which our Saviour frequently resorted. Situated in a 
 retired spot near the base of the Mount of Olives on 
 its south-eastern side, with a little valley below and 
 the mountain rising gently behind it, and surrounded 
 with groves of fig-trees, olives, and oaks, it had espe- 
 cial attractions, both in its natural aspects and in the 
 peace and silence of its seclusion, for a serious and 
 contemplative mind. Here dwelt the family of Laza- 
 rus and his sisters, whom " Jesus loved," and in whose 
 company he found a confidence and sympathy suited 
 to his social nature. What the precise appearance of 
 Bethany was in the time of the Saviour it may be diffi- 
 cult to say. It is now a small village called by the 
 inhabitants Lazarieh } or the place of Lazarus, con- 
 36 
 
422 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 taining about forty houses, inhabited chiefly by Arabs, 
 who support themselves by cultivating small olive 
 gardens, or by feeding their flocks on the neighboring 
 hills. In this village was performed one of the Saviour's 
 great miracles, — the raising of Lazarus from the dead, 
 — the last miracle, I believe, that is recorded as being 
 performed by him. The tomb of Lazarus, in which 
 he was placed after his death and from which he was 
 called by the Saviour's voice, is still shown to the trav- 
 eller. We descended into this tomb over a flight of 
 steep and narrow steps which terminate at the depth 
 of eighteen or twenty feet in a dark sepulchral cham- 
 ber excavated in a rock. Early tradition, older than 
 the time of Eusebius, assigns this as the tomb in which 
 Lazarus was buried and from which he was raised ; 
 and the incidents of the place seem to favor the tradi- 
 tional opinion. 
 
 As I stood near the tomb of Lazarus, and as I went 
 in silence through this small but memorable place, I 
 felt but little disposition, — as indeed I had but little 
 strength for any such thing — for geographical and 
 other inquiries ; but my soul was full, and my affec- 
 tions meditated. The heart fed on the food of mem- 
 ory. It was here, I said, that the Saviour often came. 
 I looked behind me and upward, and saw the nearer 
 and more solitary path by which he was accustomed 
 to cross the summit of Olivet. It was here that he 
 composed and rested his weary spirit in the bosom of 
 a beloved family. It was here that Martha " received 
 him into her house," and Mary, her sister, " sat at his 
 feet," and listened to his teachings, and chose that 
 good part which could not be taken away. The walls 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 423 
 
 of their humble mansion had crumbled ; but the ground 
 stood, and memory clung to the soil. The earth upon 
 which I looked had been trodden by Him, to whom 
 divine grace and the experience of God's goodness 
 and truth had taught me to give my own affections. 
 And now a new link of union seemed to be estab- 
 lished between those affections and their great and di- 
 vine object ; and He seemed nearer than ever. It was 
 a scene and an hour never to be forgotten. 
 
 We had started early in the morning ; and this visit 
 to Bethany was in the early part of the day. We pro- 
 ceeded towards Jericho by the old Jericho road which 
 I have already mentioned ; — rocky and often precipi- 
 tous, winding for a few miles among heights on both 
 sides, on which camels and goats were feeding, and 
 then descending into a plain. Near the head of this 
 narrow plain, or more properly speaking, valley — for 
 it was shut in by hills on each side — we passed, on 
 the right of the road, a large fountain. A drove of 
 camels had come down from the hills and were stand- 
 ing near. A few women from the neighborhood were 
 seated around it ; and some were carrying away its 
 waters in large jars on their heads. The place is at- 
 tractive in its situation ; the waters flowed fresh and 
 full ; and the tradition of the country is, that it was 
 visited not unfrequently by the Saviour and his disci- 
 ples ; and this is a tradition which would harmonize 
 well with the Scriptures. It is called the " fountain 
 of the Apostles." 
 
 As we proceeded towards Jericho we met with no 
 incidents particularly worthy of being mentioned. — 
 Prospered by a kind Providence, which had followed 
 
424 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 us at every step, we did not " fall among thieves." 
 From time to time we saw in the openings of the hills, 
 the dark open awning, which generally forms the tent 
 of the Bedouins. Their sheep and goats feed upon 
 the coarse grass of the rocks. They offered us no 
 molestation, but seemed to be pleased that we had 
 come among them ; for we were under an escort of 
 their own people, who were faithful to us here as they 
 had been in other places. The Arabs who attended 
 us took a natural pleasure in occasionally displaying 
 their skilful horsemanship before us ; and were ex- 
 ceedingly happy when we were disposed to enter into 
 conversation, and to form something like an intimacy 
 of acquaintance. 
 
 In the afternoon of this day, when we had entered 
 the edge of the plain of the Jordan, we passed the 
 lofty and barren mountain of Quarantana, or mount 
 of forty days. It is perforated in many places with 
 natural and artificial caverns, which in former times 
 were the abodes of hermits, who in this desolate soli- 
 tude spent their days in fasting, and vigils. It is to this 
 mountain, — undoubtedly wild and desolate enough to 
 have been the theatre of that remarkable portion of 
 his history and not unsuited by its position, — that tra- 
 dition assigns the locality of the Saviour's forty day's 
 fast, and of his temptation by the devil. A large ex- 
 tent of country in the vicinity of this mountain is bar- 
 ren and mountainous ; scarcely exhibiting anywhere 
 the least signs of vegetation, and is called in the Gos- 
 pel " the wilderness of Judea." 
 
 It was in sight of this mountain and not far from 
 its base, that, on entering the plain of the Jordan, we 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 425 
 
 turned aside from the direct path to the modern Jeri- 
 cho, for the purpose of visiting the bright and beauti- 
 ful fountain, which was miraculously healed by the 
 prophet Elisha. The prophet was tarrying at Jericho 
 at that time. On hearing the complaint of the peo- 
 ple of the city, who represented the water as not good, 
 he asked for a cruise with salt in it. " And he went 
 forth unto the spring of the waters and cast the salt 
 in there, and said : Thus saith the Lord, I have healed 
 these waters." It is now called the fountain of Elisha. 
 We went to its spring or source. Flowing suddenly 
 up from the recesses of a large hollow rock on the 
 side and near the base of a hill, it gushes onward in 
 a clear swift current over a hard bed covered with 
 stones and overhung with small trees and with shrubs 
 in flower. The scene recalled the history of the pro- 
 phet ; and I recollected with gratitude the goodness 
 of God in raising up from time to time teachers and 
 benefactors who administered to the necessities of the 
 people, at the same time that they gave them moral 
 and religious instructions. 
 
 * It was only an hour or two before, that we passed 
 the brook Cherith, which flows through a part of the 
 plain of Jordan and empties into the Dead Sea. It 
 was near this brook that the prophet Elijah, the pre- 
 decessor and spiritual guide and teacher of Elisha, 
 was commanded to hide himself; and it was here 
 that he was miraculously fed by ravens. The chan- 
 nel where we crossed it, was deep and of considerable 
 width ; but there is but little water in it at this sea- 
 son of the year, as it is fed from the rains, and by the 
 springs from the mountains, which are now dried up. 
 36* 
 
426 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 The fouutain of Elisha, on the contrary, gushing from 
 the unknown riches of a rock, seems to flow with a 
 source and a current always full. 
 
 From this remarkable fountain we proceeded over 
 a plain, which was once exceedingly fertile and is still 
 profitably cultivated in some places, to the modern 
 Jericho. The precise site of the ancient Jericho is un- 
 known ; but the mounds of earth in the neighborhood 
 of Elisha's fountain exhibit appearances which fur- 
 nish ground for conjecture that it may have been there. 
 The modern Jericho is a large Arab village, full of 
 people, with a small fortification near it which was 
 occupied by a Turkish guard. It was dark when we 
 reached it. We were much fatigued with the day's 
 journey, although the place is but little more than 
 thirty miles from Jerusalem. The next morning very 
 early, and while the stars still lingered in the sky, we 
 completed our journey to the Jordan. We saw the 
 rising sunlight shine upon its banks. It is very deep 
 and apparently a little more than an hundred feet in 
 width, as it flows now within its lower channel. Ris- 
 ing in Mount Hermon and running from North to 
 South, it passes through the lakes Merom and Galilee, 
 and empties into the Dead Sea a few miles south of 
 the place where we reached it. It rushes on with a 
 swift, impetuous current, carrying onward at all times 
 a large volume of water. Trees and shrubs grow 
 thickly upon its steep sides ; so that it is difficult in 
 many places to reach the brink of its channel. We 
 approached it where there is a bend in the river, and 
 where the trees had been cleared away. But, at a 
 little distance both above and below us, the waters 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 427 
 
 were shaded by the thick foliage around it; — the 
 oleander dipped its flower in its wave, and countless 
 birds, unseen and unheard in the desert, were singing 
 in the overhanging branches and leaves. When the 
 waters are high, and when it overflows its upper banks, 
 it must have the appearance of a large majestic stream. 
 
 As far back as the time of Abraham and down to 
 the destruction of Jerusalem, the Jordan is closely 
 connected with many of the interesting incidents of 
 biblical history. It is associated with the histories of 
 Joshua, Elijah and John the Baptist. And in the 
 psalms and the prophetical writings, like Hermon, and 
 Carmel and Sharon, it is one of those poetical ele- 
 ments which furnish food to the imagination and give 
 harmony and beauty to truth. 
 
 To me the most affecting recollection connected with 
 it was the fact that the Saviour was baptized in its 
 waters. It was here that the " heavens were opened" 
 and the mystic Dove descended; and here was uttered 
 the voice from Heaven, saying, " This is my beloved 
 Son, in whom I am well pleased." It was immediately 
 after the baptism of the Saviour in the Jordan, and 
 the utterance of this heavenly declaration in confir- 
 mation and testimony of his character, that he was 
 " led by the Spirit into the wilderness." As the rug- 
 ged and barren "wilderness of Judea," including the 
 desolate mountain of Quarantana, is in this vicinity 
 and indeed in full sight of the Jordan, we find some- 
 thing in this circumstance in support of the tradition- 
 ary opinion that this region, remarkably fitted by its 
 wild and majestic desolation for such an experience, 
 was the scene of the Savour's seclusion., fasting and 
 
428 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 temptation. The precise place of the Saviour's bap- 
 tism is unknown. 
 
 After spending the early part of the day in the neigh- 
 borhood of this river, to which so many and interest- 
 ing allusions are made in all parts of the Scriptures, 
 we went southward a few miles to the head of the 
 Dead Sea ; an expanse of dark gloomy water, from 
 seven to ten miles in width, and forty in length, thrown 
 into shadow by the mountains of Judea on one side, 
 and the mountains of Nebo and Moab on the other, 
 with no tree on its banks, no bird in its air, and no 
 fish in its waters ; but sad, silent and motionless as 
 the guilty cities which lay buried in its bosom. The 
 water is salt and very unpleasant to the taste. A bi- 
 tuminous substance is found on its surface, and is 
 sometimes deposited in small pieces on its shores. 
 This dark sea, with its rim of barren rock or of burn- 
 ing sand, occupies the place of the lower portion of 
 the beautiful valley of the Jordan. It is called by the 
 Arabs of this region Bahr Lut, or sea of Lot ; and 
 is the site of the ancient cities of Sodom and Gomor- 
 rah, of Admah and Zeboim. The subjects of the Di- 
 vine displeasure, and smitten and sunk from the sight 
 of men, they are wrapped in its sulphurous and heavy 
 winding sheet ; — and everything around, without life 
 and without a smile, has that sinister and gloomy as- 
 pect which is significant of a locality where curse and 
 ruin have followed upon crime. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 429 
 
 (XLV, Continued.) 
 
 Leave the Dead Sea for the city of Hebron — The Gazelle — Convent of 
 Mar Sabas — Valley of the Ivedron — Reach the city of Hebron — 
 Burial-place of Othniel — The king's pool — Cave of Machpelah — 
 Burial-place of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob — Plain of Mamre — 
 Character of Abraham — Ain Simim — Pools of Solomon — Tomb 
 of Rachel. 
 
 Leaving the borders of the Dead Sea, we now di- 
 rected our way towards the city of Hebron. As we 
 entered again into the mountainous region, a wild ga- 
 zelle started up on the side of a sloping hill, in the 
 neighborhood of the brook Cherith. At the hotel, at 
 which our party stopped in Jerusalem, I noticed one 
 of these beautiful animals. He wandered at will over 
 the house ; and I became well acquainted with him. 
 But this was the first time that I had seen the gazelle 
 in what may be called his native home. The sight 
 was the more beautiful, because it was life, beauty? 
 and motion starting up suddenly in the rudeness and 
 barrenness of the desert. The gazelle is timid, but 
 he curves his neck with pride ; and nothing can ex- 
 ceed the brilliancy of his large dark eye. Swifter 
 than the foot of the huntsman who pursued him, he 
 bounded from rock to rock, as if his little feet had 
 wings. 
 
 We stopped on the night of the second day of this 
 excursion, at the Greek convent of Mar Sabas or St. 
 Sabas, — one of the memorable and justly cherished 
 names in early religious history. This massive and 
 well-built convent, founded in the sixth century, is 
 situated on the side of the brook Kedron, which, at 
 
430 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 certain seasons of the year is sometimes enlarged by 
 heavy rains to an impetuous river, and finds its way 
 from its source in the neighborhood of Jerusalem, 
 through rocky and mountainous denies to the Dead 
 Sea. At this place it has worn a passage by its im- 
 petuous and long continued action through a rocky 
 hill of great height, cutting it down perpendicularly 
 from summit to base, and forming for itself a deep 
 unchangeable bed with walls on each side, hundreds 
 of feet in height. The convent is situated on the south 
 eastern side, about half way down. In company with 
 my travelling associates, descending through passages 
 cut in the rocks and in part by means of a wooden 
 ladder, I went down into the deep bed below, which 
 was dry at this time ; and walking for some distance, 
 it was with no small surprise, that we saw, high in 
 the wall of limestone which enclosed it, a multitude 
 of excavations. Many of them were obviously artifi- 
 cial ; and were opened in the rocks with great labor. 
 Such was their number, and such the labor which had 
 been evidently bestowed upon them, that they re- 
 minded us of what travellers have said of the rocky 
 excavations of the city of Petra. It was remarked 
 to us, but on how good authority the assertion was 
 made I am unable to state, that in the early perse- 
 cutions to which Christianity was subjected, many 
 Christians fled to this deep and secluded valley of the 
 Kedron, and concealed themselves in its rocky reces- 
 ses and caverns. It is well known, that John of Da- 
 mascus, a monk of the eighth century, celebrated for 
 the great powers of his mind and for his various learn- 
 ing, resided here. The Greek monks, who occupy 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 431 
 
 the monastery at the present time, were attentive and 
 kind to us ; — showing us their church with its solid 
 architecture and its rude fresco paintings, the tomb of 
 Mar Sabas, and whatever else there was of interest. 
 
 On the third day, going nearly in a western direc- 
 tion, and leaving Jerusalem on the north, we reached 
 Hebron. This city was originally a city of the Ca- 
 naanites, and was called Kirjath Arba, in honor of 
 Arba the father of Anak ; — and it is said in the book 
 of Numbers to have been built seven years before Zoan 
 in Egypt. Among the old cities of Palestine He- 
 bron, in the historical interest which attaches to it, 
 stands second only to Jerusalem. For many miles, 
 in our journey towards the city of Hebron, our road 
 had led through a region very uneven and hilly ; and 
 for the most part unfruitful. But in coming near to 
 the city the aspect of the country round it changed 
 very much. After the cultivation and the exhaustion 
 of thousands of years, it is still exceedingly fertile. — 
 In coming up by the route which leads from the Dead 
 Sea, and which connects with the road from Bethle- 
 hem, we entered the city from the north; passing 
 through the long narrow valley of Eshkol, which now, 
 as it was in the days of Moses and Joshua, is cover- 
 ed with vines, whose thick and heavy clusters attract 
 the notice of the traveller. The modern city is built 
 for the most part on the sides of two hills, which are 
 separated from each other by the^small valley between 
 them. It is said to contain eight thousand inhabi- 
 tants, the greater number of whom are Jews. Near 
 the little grove outside of the city where we pitched 
 our tents, is the large excavation which has the repu- 
 
432 LETTERS— AESTHETIC, 
 
 tation of being the burial-place of Othniel, who was 
 in the army of Judah, when that tribe first conquered 
 Hebron, and was afterwards one of the judges of 
 Israel. On entering this tomb, which was capacious 
 enough to hold many people, we found it filled with 
 Jews, who were occupied in reading the Scriptures 
 and going through their forms of worship. In that 
 sad blindness, to which a retributive, but just Provi- 
 dence has left them, they still cling in sorrow and 
 hope to their native land. It was at Hebron that David 
 was anointed king over Judah ; and it is stated that 
 he reigned there " seven years and six months." In 
 going through the eastern or Mohammedan part of 
 this ancient place, — the part of it which was the site 
 of the city as it existed in the time of David,— our 
 attention was directed to a large artificial pool of 
 great antiquity, formed of hewn stone, and coated 
 with cement. It is more than a hundred feet square, 
 and at least twenty feet in depth ; and is called to 
 this day " the king's pool," in allusion probably to 
 David. There can be but little doubt, that it is the 
 same pool which is mentioned in the second book of 
 Samuel, where it is said of the murderers of the son 
 of Saul, that " David commanded his young men, and 
 they slew them ; and hanged them up over the pool in 
 Hebron." 
 
 At a little distance, perhaps the third of a mile, from 
 the king's pool, and on the side of one of the hills oc- 
 cupied by the city, is the " cave of the field of Mach- 
 pelah," which was bought by Abraham of Ephron the 
 son of Zohar. The field, of the purchase of which we 
 have a particular account in the book of Genesis, was 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 433 
 
 bought by Abraham at the time of the death of Sarah, 
 who died in Hebron. Abraham, who seems to have 
 left Mamre after the destruction of the cities of the 
 plain and to have been dwelling at this time in Beer- 
 sheba in the land of Gerar, came to Hebron to " mourn 
 and to weep" for Sarah. His conference with the sons 
 of Heth and with Ephron in relation to a burying- 
 place for her, may be regarded, I think, as one of the 
 most graphic and touching passages of the Old Tes- 
 tament. This cave, in which nearly four thousand 
 years ago Sarah was buried, and in which Abraham 
 and Isaac and Rebecca and Leah were afterwards 
 buried, is now covered by a Turkish mosque, into 
 which Christians are not permitted to enter. So that 
 we could only go to the place, which contained the 
 hallowed dust of these early followers and friends of 
 God, and walk around it without going into it. No 
 sculptured tombs of Beni Hassan or Thebes had for 
 me the attraction of this ancient burying-place of the 
 patriarchs. Among the sacred remembrances which it 
 suggested, I could not forget that it was the dying re- 
 quest of the patriarch Jacob, when he breathed his last 
 far away in the unbelieving land of Egypt, that he 
 might be buried "in the cave in the field of Machpelah," 
 which he describes as the burying-place bought by 
 Abraham of Ephron the Hittite. "There," he adds, 
 "they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife ; there they 
 buried Isaac and Rebecca his wife ; and there I buried 
 Leah: 1 
 
 In returning from Hebron we left, for a-short time, 
 the main road leading to Jerusalem with a view to 
 reach by a nearer path the plain of Mamre, which for 
 37 
 
434 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 a long time was the residence of Abraham. In speak- 
 ing of distances I remark again that I do not profess 
 to be very accurate, because I merely give them in 
 many cases as they seemed to me, — judging from our 
 usual rate of travel and the time occupied. But judg- 
 ing in this way the plain of Mamre at its northwestern 
 extremity is, by the nearest path, two miles and a half 
 or three miles from Hebron. In reaching it we pass- 
 ed over a portion of the vine-bearing valley of Esh- 
 kol ; and then going up a gradually ascending height 
 of land which was partitioned into small fields by ter- 
 races and walls of stone and everywhere carefully cul- 
 tivated, we came as we passed its summit, into the 
 elevated and beautiful plain where Abraham is said to 
 have dwelt. It appeared to be a plain on a moun- 
 tain ; — a beautiful place on earth and yet expanding 
 itself on such an elevated position that it seemed very 
 near to heaven. The plain, sinking in its centre into 
 a narrow valley where the waters collect in the rainy 
 season, runs in an easterly direction ; and then turn- 
 ing southwardly, appeared to me gradually to descend 
 and terminate in a level open space, which we had 
 previously noticed to the south of and in sight of 
 Hebron. 
 
 The tradition in relation to this plain is, that Abra- 
 ham dwelt in the highest part of it ; and we were con- 
 ducted into a large square building, supposed to be 
 of great antiquity, made of hewn stones of great size, 
 which is shown as indicating the precise spot of his 
 dwelling-place. But however this may have been, 
 we could not doubt that we were in the region where 
 he spent no small portion of his life. His hand had 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 435 
 
 cultivated this soil ; he had been seated beneath these 
 oaks ; he looked upon these heavens filled at night 
 with the stars which he could not number, — the bright 
 emblems of his spiritual children in all ages and climes. 
 It was here that he held that memorable conversation 
 with God, when he plead so earnestly and eloquently 
 for the wicked cities of the plain. Ten righteous men 
 would have saved them, because Abraham, the friend 
 of God, had asked it, but the ten were not there. The 
 place of the " cities of the plain," is in full sight of 
 the elevated plain of Mamre. In a direct line it is 
 probably not more than twenty miles distant. With 
 a mind filled with these great memories, I looked in 
 that direction. My eye reached over the rocky hills 
 of Judea, and over the dark sunken abyss which 
 bounds them, and rested upon the mountains of Moab 
 beyond. It was from the low level plain, overlooked 
 by these hills and mountains, that the smoke ascended. 
 It was in the sunlight of the morning when we stood 
 on this memorable place ; — and it was in the morning, 
 — " early in the morning," — that Abraham arose, and 
 " looked towards Sodom and Gomorrah and towards 
 all the land of the plain, and beheld, and lo, the smoke 
 of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace." 
 
 And here I feel inclined to delay a moment, in a 
 remark or two upon the great patriarch. There are 
 some men, whose thoughts and achievements, aided 
 sometimes by the peculiarities of their position, have 
 been such, that they may be said to fill the eye of na- 
 tions ; — and not more when they are living, than when 
 they are dead. They re-appear and exist without cessa- 
 tion in the world's thought, which becomes so vivid 
 
436 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 and clear in its apprehension of them, that it illumi- 
 nates the ancient night of ages, and restores the dead 
 to life. And it makes but little difference, whether 
 they are men of great ideas or men of great actions ; 
 though the life which they thus live in the locality, if 
 I may so express it, of the human mind, is more dis- 
 tinct and impressive, if their ideas have found an ex- 
 pression and a confirmation in their own personal his- 
 tory. The Patriarch Abraham was such a man ; — a 
 man who knew the truth, — a man who illustrated the 
 truth by his deeds. 
 
 We find him in early life on the plains of Chaldea. 
 It was there that he first tended his flocks. Whether 
 it was by means of religious traditions communicated 
 through his father Terah, or that God himself by a 
 direct inspiration was the source of his great wisdom, 
 it was at this early period that he became acquainted 
 with some of those great religious truths, (such as the 
 unity of God and the relations of faith and love 
 which ought to exist between God and man,) which 
 have always perplexed the best and most persevering 
 efforts of mere human philosophy. In his journeyings 
 from place to place, and from nation to nation, he 
 went from Chaldea to Palestine, and from Palestine 
 to Egypt, — but always in accordance with the open- 
 ings of Providence, and always guided and sustained 
 by the great religious truth, that God exists, and that 
 he is the friend and rewarder of all those who are 
 willing to believe on him. He was emphatically the 
 man of faith. It was faith, which gave strength to 
 his purpose ; which imparted purity to his inward na- 
 ture. His great mind saw intuitively, that the very 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 437 
 
 idea of God imposes the obligation to believe. He 
 had stood beneath the Chaldean stars ; he had looked 
 upon the broad Euphrates and the mighty Nile ; he 
 had crossed vast deserts and wildernesses ; he had 
 trod the majestic mountains of Palestine ; and as he 
 cast his illuminated eye around and above him and 
 perceived things in their greatness and in their rela- 
 tions, he felt deeply in his soul, that there is no mid' 
 die ground between the true and the false ; that the 
 negation of God is the affirmation of chance ; and 
 that the affirmation of chance is the inauguration of 
 moral and intellectual weakness and wrong. 
 
 To accept God was a necessity. In accepting him, 
 he accepted the faith which honors him. And on 
 Mount Moriah, when called upon as a test of his faith 
 to offer up his beloved son in sacrifice, he showed 
 not only the truth of his own soul, but the truth and 
 mighty power of a principle, which elevates and saves 
 humanity, by bringing God and man into harmony. 
 History is right, therefore, and honors the God who is 
 the living and controlling power in the series of its 
 own varied events, in taking such a man out of the 
 common ranks of men, and in establishing him among 
 the guides and teachers of the human race. 
 
 Leaving the plain of Mamre, — a place so closely 
 associated with this great and remarkable man, — we 
 regained in a short time the main road to Bethlehem 
 and Jerusalem; — passing at the distance of a mile 
 and a half, the place called " Ain Simim," or the 
 fountain of Simeon. 
 
 There is a large stone building here, erected appa- 
 rently for military purposes ; and in its neighborhood 
 37* 
 
438 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 are said to be some very ancient tombs excavated in 
 the rocks ; but we had not time to stop and examine 
 them. The fountain gushes out from the side of a 
 small hill on the right of the road ; and directly op- 
 posite is the plain, rendered memorable by a battle 
 fought in 1192 between Richard of England and Sul- 
 tan Saladin, in which Richard was defeated and driv- 
 en back to Askelon. Going on about two miles fur- 
 ther, over rugged and rocky hills or along the edge of 
 cultivated valleys, we came to the stupendous water- 
 reservoirs, called the pools of Solomon. We had 
 passed them in our journey to Hebron ; but stopped 
 to examine them more particularly on our return. 
 There are other great " pools " or water-reservoirs in 
 other places, the erection of which is ascribed to Solo- 
 mon. There are three in this place, rising one above 
 another on the side of a hill, and supplied by water 
 from heights still more elevated ; the largest of which 
 is nearly six hundred feet in length, by an average 
 breadth of more than a hundred and fifty feet, and is 
 fifty feet in depth. All of them are of solid masonry, 
 and are coated with cement. They are entered by 
 steps cut in the sides. The water, collected in the 
 highest from the rocky eminences around, gushes from 
 one to the other ; and is then conducted by conduits 
 under ground to the city of Jerusalem. I recollect in 
 early life to have heard a person, whose faith in the 
 Scriptures had been shaken, objecting to the state- 
 ments made in the Bible of the great wealth and 
 power of Solomon ; but he had not been in Palestine ; 
 and had not seen the works and the remains of works, 
 which furnish overwhelming evidence not only of the 
 riches and power, but of the science of that period. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 439 
 
 Going a few miles further, we came to the city 
 of Bethlehem, the birth-place of the Saviour. " The 
 Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." But 
 I must leave what I have to say of this city and of 
 the events connected with it, to another letter. 
 
 At two miles beyond Bethlehem we came to the 
 tomb of Rachel, the wife of Jacob, who is said in the 
 book of Genesis to have been " buried in the way to 
 Ephrath, which is Bethlehem." A pillar was erected 
 over her grave by Jacob. He was journeying with 
 her from Bethel to Bethlehem at the time of her death. 
 The pillar of Jacob has disappeared. The present 
 tomb is a Saracenic work ; but there is no difference 
 of opinion as to the place where she was buried. The 
 burial-place of Rachel, — where the traveller naturally 
 stops to indulge in the recollections connected with 
 her touching story, is on the side and near the sum- 
 mit of a hill, furnishing a wide and beautiful prospect. 
 And he naturally thinks of the village, with which her 
 name is associated, in one of the sad and bloody pas- 
 sages of history. It is to the northwestward of her 
 grave, some three or four miles distant, that we find 
 the village of Rama, to which reference is made in 
 the second chapter of Matthew ; — " In Rama there 
 was a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping and 
 great mourning; — Rachel weeping for her children, 
 and would not be comforted because they are not." 
 
 Half-way between Bethlehem and Jerusalem we 
 passed on our right the large Greek convent of Elias. 
 It is on a hill. We did not stop to visit it. At a little 
 distance from this convent, as we descended the hill 
 towards Jerusalem, we came in sight of the plain of 
 
440 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Rephaim or plain of the Giants. It was on this beau- 
 tiful plain, which was waving as we passed it with 
 fields of wheat, that David fought twice with the 
 Philistines, who seem to have become alarmed on ac- 
 count of his increasing power, and who had come up 
 here to attack him, after he had established himself in 
 Jerusalem. The same night, crossing the deep rocky 
 ravine called the valley of Hinnom, and then ascend- 
 ing the steep sides of the hill of Zion, we reached the 
 city of Jerusalem after an absence of four days. We 
 entered it at the tower of David, by the Bethlehem 
 gate — which is also called the Jaffa gate. 
 
 (XLVI.) 
 
 Visit to Bethlehem — Appearance of the country round it — The city and 
 its inhabitants — The convent and church of the Nativity — View 
 from the top of the convent — St. Jerome — The grotto of the Sa- 
 viour's birth — Reflections on the Incarnation — Poetry. 
 
 CITY OF JERUSALEM, THIRD LETTER. 
 
 In my last letter I gave a brief account of an ex- 
 cursion from Jerusalem to the river Jordan and the 
 Dead Sea ; — and thence to the ancient city of Hebron. 
 In the course of this excursion we had the satisfac- 
 tion of visiting the city of Bethlehem twice. In going 
 westward from the northern extremity of the Dead 
 Sea to Hebron, by the way of the convent of St. Sa- 
 bas, we found that Bethlehem was so nearly on the 
 best and direct line of our route, that we took the 
 road leading through it. As I remarked in my last 
 letter, we spent a night at the convent, which I have 
 named. Starting early in the morning, and passing 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 441 
 
 over a number of lofty and barren hills between St. 
 Sabas and Bethlehem, we at last ascended from a 
 picturesque valley ; and having passed through some 
 comparatively large and well cultivated fields on the 
 sides and summit of the height, we arrived at the 
 limits of the celebrated city where the Saviour of the 
 world was born. 
 
 In coming from St. Sabas, we approached Bethle- 
 hem on the east. This was the first time that I saw 
 it ; and it seemed to me, as if Jerusalem itself had 
 not excited a deeper interest and a more profound 
 emotion. But the view of the city was not very good. 
 In coming from Hebron on our return to Jerusalem, 
 we approached it on the western side. At this time 
 the city was seen very distinctly on its lofty height at 
 a considerable distance, and made a very impressive 
 appearance. Our ascent to it in this direction was 
 more steep and difficult, than in our approach from 
 the east. And again, on our way from Bethlehem to 
 Jerusalem, which placed us upon its northern side, we 
 often turned to look back upon it. There was an at- 
 traction in the name and in the histories connected 
 with it, which we were not willing to lose. So that 
 we had good opportunities, notwithstanding the short 
 time which was left us, to see and to impress its in- 
 teresting features upon the memory. 
 
 The country around Bethlehem, diversified with 
 hills and valleys, had to my view a very pleasant as- 
 pect. I think it may be regarded as fruitful, — even at 
 the present time. And in former times, before the 
 earth became exhausted by long and ill-directed cul- 
 tivation, it probably was a very fertile region. The 
 
442 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 name Bethlehem, which means the house of bread, 
 and the name Bethlehem Ephratah, which was also 
 sometimes applied to the city and which means Beth- 
 lehem the fruitful, seem to indicate that such was the 
 case. It was once a land of shepherds ; and flocks of 
 sheep and goats, and droves of camels, are frequently 
 seen now. From time to time, we saw in all these 
 regions the dark, open tents of the Bedouins. Their 
 flocks are always near them. About a mile's distance 
 from the city in an eastern direction, — in a low green 
 valley, — is the place, where the shepherds are said to 
 have been watching their flocks, when the Saviour's 
 birth was announced to them. 
 
 The lofty limestone hill, on which the city itself is 
 situated, runs from east to west. And on all sides the 
 approach to it, with the exception of the route from 
 St. Sabas, is abrupt and steep, — particularly on the 
 northern and southern sides. These abrupt ascents 
 are built up in many places with terraces, which are 
 planted with flourishing fig-trees, vines and olives. I 
 have already referred to the general aspect of the city. 
 On approaching it in almost any direction, it has 
 quite an imposing appearance, though in different de- 
 grees. On entering it, however, it does not realize the 
 expectations, which are raised on seeing it at a dis- 
 tance. There are no evidences of wealth and splen- 
 dor ; nor on the other hand are there signs of great 
 poverty. The houses are generally one story in height, 
 and built of stone ; — many of them with flat roofs ; 
 but frequently they are surmounted with a dome. As 
 a general thing they have no windows towards the 
 streets. Many of them are well-built ; and notwith- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 443 
 
 standing the idea of almost entire seclusion which 
 they are apt to suggest, they have an aspect of neat- 
 ness and comfort, which is seldom seen in these re- 
 gions. Bethlehem resembles nearly all oriental cities 
 in the narrowness and irregularity of its streets. A 
 few Turks and Arabs make their residence here ; but 
 the greater part of the people are understood to re- 
 ceive the Christian religion, — chiefly, though not ex- 
 clusively, in the forms of the Greek and Catholic 
 churches. The population is variously estimated from 
 three to four thousand. We found the principal street 
 which leads from the open area in front of the church 
 of the Nativity towards Jerusalem, occupied for some 
 distance by a large number of persons, who had come 
 in from the neighboring villages with vegetables, oran- 
 ges, and other fruits of the country for sale. Nor was 
 there any want of traffickers in other articles; — par- 
 ticularly in rosaries and crosses, and representations 
 of holy persons and places ingeniously carved in olive- 
 wood and mother-of-pearl. I thought I could dis- 
 cover, as I walked through the streets and mingled 
 with the people for a short time, the marks both of 
 increased comfort and intelligence, as compared with 
 what we had noticed in other places. 
 
 A portion of the eastern extremity of this rocky 
 height rises steeply over the large and beautiful plain 
 and valleys in that direction. A convent is built upon 
 this part of the height. Its massive walls and battle- 
 ments, like those of the monastery of St. Sabas, give 
 it the appearance of a fortress. We entered it through 
 a small, low opening in the bottom of the western 
 wall. It does not belong exclusively to one Christian 
 
444 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 sect ; but the different parts of it, including the church, 
 are divided among Catholics, Greeks and Armenians. 
 Within the large area which is enclosed by the con- 
 vent walls, is the church of the Nativity, — built in the 
 form of a cross. It is said to have been built by the 
 Empress Helena; — though the origin of the convent 
 buildings around it is attributed to the pious zeal of 
 a distinguished Roman lady by the name of Paula, 
 whose tomb is still shown here. Passing through the 
 large entrance-porch or vestibule of the church, we 
 paused a few moments in the lofty nave, which is 
 adorned with numerous Corinthian columns, and is 
 architecturally an object of much interest. And from 
 this place, under the guidance of men of the different 
 religious sects, who claim and hold possession, we pro- 
 ceeded to see and examine what is worthy of notice 
 in this remarkable spot. 
 
 Ascending to the top of the convent, we had the 
 whole city at our feet. We also had a fine view of 
 the surrounding country ; — particularly of the moun- 
 tainous region in the direction of the Dead Sea. — 
 The lofty cone, which has borne for many ages the 
 name of the Frank mountain, was in sight to the 
 southeast ; — and apparently not more than four or five 
 miles distant. This mountain, including a portion of 
 land at its base, is the supposed site of the ancient 
 city and castle which was built by Herod, and which 
 was called Herod ium. The ruins, which are still 
 found on the mountain and in its vicinity, support 
 this view. 
 
 At a little distance south of the Frank mountain, is 
 another lofty eminence, which is visible from this 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 445 
 
 place. It is the ancient Tekoa, — the birth-place of the 
 prophet Amos, and the residence of the wise woman, 
 who was consulted by Joab in the case of Absalom. 
 In coming from St. Sabas we passed these places on 
 the left. The ancient Hebrew name of the Frank 
 mountain was Beth-Haccerim. Such, at least, is the 
 supposition of some biblical critics. It was upon such 
 lofty heights that those naming beacon-lights were 
 kindled, which gave notice to the surrounding country 
 of approaching dangers. Hence the expressions in 
 the prophet Jeremiah. " Blow the trumpet in Tekoa, 
 and set up a sign of fire in Beth-Haccerim." 
 
 Going into the lower part of these ancient edifices 
 — into that portion denominated the Latin Convent 
 — we visited the place where the justly celebrated Je- 
 rome spent a considerable portion of his life, and where 
 his tomb still remains. The tomb of Eusebius, the 
 ecclesiastical historian, is also here. 
 
 A peculiar interest, which the biblical student will 
 easily understand, attaches to the fact, that St. Je- 
 rome dwelt so long in this place. And perhaps I 
 shall be pardoned for recalling a few incidents of his 
 life at this time. Born in the times of the Roman 
 empire, and in a small Roman town near the province 
 of Dalmatia, he was sent to Rome by his father, who 
 was a man of wealth, in order that he might be early 
 and thoroughly instructed in the literature, the arts, 
 and the philosophy of that day. Aided by the best 
 masters in the city of Rome, among whom was a 
 learned grammarian by the name of Donatus, who is 
 still known by his commentaries on Virgil and Te- 
 rence, he soon became a proficient in Greek and Ro- 
 38 
 
446 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 man learning. Embracing the study and the profes- 
 sion of the law as a business for life, his great ability 
 and high mental culture, gave him reason to hope, 
 that he would ultimately reach positions of influence 
 and honor, — such as would fully satisfy a high ambi- 
 tion. He soon found, however, that the world has its 
 enchantments, as well as its honors. The fascinating 
 pleasures of Rome held out their allurements, and he 
 had begun to feel both their power and their bitter- 
 ness ; — but the lessons of piety which he had received 
 in early life, recurred to his mind ; and a divine voice, 
 perhaps in answer to a father's or mother's prayers, 
 whispered to him the vanity of human philosophy and 
 fame, and urged him to seek the knowledge and the 
 honor which come from Christ. He was then in the 
 midst of his travels in France and still in the ardent 
 pursuit of knowledge ; but he had the wisdom to listen 
 to this higher and better voice ; and accepted the sim- 
 ple but sublime philosophy of Christ for that of the Gre- 
 cian and Roman schools. In accordance with the ascetic 
 principles and practices of his age, he left Rome, which 
 seemed to him to present too many temptations to a 
 young Christian, and finding his way after some time 
 into Syria, he took up his residence in a desert and 
 solitary place near Chalcis, — though not very far from 
 the city of Antioch and the banks of the Orontes. In 
 this Syrian wilderness, which he has rendered celebra- 
 ted in his eloquent writings, he resided four years. It 
 was in the year 377 that he first came into Palestine ; 
 and after the year 386, he made it his permanent resi- 
 dence. He dwelt at one time on the Mount of Olives ; 
 — but subsequently took up his abode at Bethlehem ; 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 447 
 
 — diligently pursuing his studies, as he had done dur- 
 ing a large portion of his life, even in the deserts of 
 Syria ; and investigating with great zeal the various 
 subjects, which throw light upon the history, the per- 
 sons and the doctrines of the Bible. 
 
 I refer thus particularly to this distinguished man, 
 so well known to biblical scholars, because undoubt- 
 edly the locality of many of the sacred places in Pales- 
 tine, particularly in Bethlehem and its vicinity, is con- 
 sidered as settled, in concurrence with his opinions 
 and authority. And when we consider the early pe- 
 riod in which he lived, his long residence in Palestine, 
 his great learning, and the deep interest which he 
 could not fail to take in the subject, I think we may 
 feel a good degree of confidence, that many of the 
 most important localities are satisfactorily known. 
 
 The reader of the Bible cannot forget, that many 
 events of interest have occurred in Bethlehem and its 
 immediate vicinity, besides that great event, which su- 
 persedes and overshadows all others. This is the 
 scene of the beautiful story of Ruth and Naomi, — in- 
 imitable in its simplicity and touching pastoral allu- 
 sions. Bethlehem is interesting also, as being the 
 birth-place of king David. He was the keeper of his 
 father's flocks in the neighborhood of Bethlehem, 
 which is spoken of as being at that time in the wilder- 
 ness, when he was called to engage in contest with 
 Goliah. It is still more interesting, — perhaps we may 
 say it exceeds all other places in the world in inter- 
 est, — in being the birth-place of the Saviour. The pro- 
 phecies of the Old Testament, — full of intimations 
 and glimpses of the future, — led the Jews to expect 
 
448 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the birth of the Saviour in this place. "But thou, 
 Bethlehem Ephratah," says the prophet Micah, "though 
 thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out 
 of thee shall He come forth unto me, who is to be 
 Ruler in Israel ; whose goings have been from old, 
 from everlasting." 
 
 The church of the Nativity, which is understood to 
 enclose the Saviour's birth-place, is built over a large 
 grotto. Descending the flight of stairs which leads in- 
 to it, we found it brightly illuminated with rows of 
 costly lamps, which are kept constantly burning. Art, 
 coloring, drapery, lend their aid to give beauty and 
 impressiveness to the place. The figure of a large and 
 beautiful star, formed of marble and jasper laid in 
 mosaic, indicates the place where the Saviour was 
 born. Golden lamps are suspended above this star, and 
 throw their light down upon it. Around it, in the 
 Latin language, are the words, Hie de Virgine Ma- 
 ria Jesus Christus natus est. 
 
 I am not ignorant of the doubts and queries which 
 have been started by the learned. And still the argu- 
 ment, depending upon facts and circumstances too 
 numerous to be detailed here, which may be brought 
 to bear in support of the identity of this part of the 
 hill of Bethlehem as the birth-place of the Saviour, is 
 so strong, that my mind found no difficulty in receiv- 
 ing it. It was here that the prophecies were fulfilled. 
 It was here that the Saviour was born. 
 
 In giving myself up to profound emotion, I could 
 not forget the accessories of that great event. I saw 
 the wise men coming from the East, with their offer- 
 ings of frankincense and gold, I remembered that 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 449 
 
 the very heavens were bright with transcendent glory. 
 I recalled the watching shepherds, and the song of 
 the angels. But these were only incidents ; and were 
 important chiefly, by the relations which they sus- 
 tained. It was the event itself, which absorbed mem- 
 ory, thought, emotion. I repeated to myself the ex- 
 pressions, which seemed to me to describe that great 
 occurrence. I said the Divine Mind became embod- 
 ied ; — the Infinite reposed in the arms of the finite ; — 
 God manifested himself in the flesh ; — on the place 
 where I now stand. 
 
 I do not profess to understand precisely the import 
 of these expressions, which may well be supposed to 
 suggest thought rather than accurately define it. But 
 it was through the medium of such emphatic and sug^ 
 gestive forms of speech, which could not fail to have 
 an important influence upon early thought and belief, 
 that I had been taught in childhood. It was thus, be- 
 fore I was capable of thinking for myself, that I had 
 been instructed in distant America ; — in her primitive 
 and humble assemblies, and in the books which had 
 come down from my Puritan ancestors. Undoubtedly 
 a hereditary belief, though sanctioned by the wisdom 
 of those who have gone before us, and taught in the 
 young home which we always love, is a proper sub- 
 ject of re-examination and further inquiry. Such ill* 
 quiry I have not been unwilling, — and indeed have 
 thought it right and proper, — >to give to the wonderful 
 doctrine of the Incarnation. Considered in its time 
 and its incidents, in itself and its relations, I have en* 
 deavored to compare the advent of the Messiah with 
 other advents and manifestations of supposed power 
 38* 
 
450 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 and greatness which men in their blindness have ac- 
 cepted and idolized ; and without professing to be 
 aware of the full import of my own expressions, I am 
 still obliged to say, not only because it is authorized 
 by the Bible, but because all other expressions come 
 short of the convictions and aspirations which strug- 
 gled in my own breast, " God was manifest in the 
 flesh: 1 
 
 I am aware that human philosophy, reasoning more 
 from the head than the heart, is likely to be perplexed 
 on this subject. In its doubts and difficulties, it pro- 
 pounds the question, whether it is possible for the In- 
 finite to embody itself in a finite form. I answer, if 
 God is merely an impersonal infinite presence, — in 
 other words an infinite power, but not an infinite per- 
 sonal agent, — then I feel the pressure of this inquiry ; 
 but I do not feel it, if He is what Christians suppose 
 Him to be, an infinite personality. In the view of the 
 matter as it presents itself to my own mind, the inca- 
 pacity to manifest himself in a form, in connection 
 with which He should communicate with his crea- 
 tures, would be an imperfection. 
 
 And it is to me an interesting circumstance, that all 
 nature, — I may perhaps say, — certainly all races of 
 men,. — demand such a manifestation. It is an in- 
 stinct of the human mind, — demonstrated, as it seems 
 to me, by the religious history of our race, — which re- 
 quires that the Infinite should subject itself at par- 
 ticular times and in particular forms, to the limita- 
 tions of the finite, in order to satisfy the finite want 
 and to perfect the finite communion. To one tribe, 
 (I speak of those portions of the human race, which 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 451 
 
 are not enlightened by the Bible,) God is in the sun ; 
 — to another He is in the moon and stars ; to anoth- 
 er He is embodied in the clouds, or floats in the rivers 
 and the ocean. And others again find Him embodied 
 and incarnate in some lower animal, which they fall 
 down and worship. 
 
 God has done homage to the great instincts he has 
 implanted. He knew the wants of men and was ready 
 to meet them, when man himself, disappointed in all 
 false manifestations, had sufficiently recognized and 
 felt those wants. He met them by his presence. But 
 in coming into the world he gave the preference to 
 the weak over the mighty. He paid homage to hu- 
 man wants but not to human pride ; and passing by 
 Rome and Athens, and whatever other names and 
 places had dazzled by their greatness and splendor, 
 He selected the little city of Bethlehem. 
 
 Philosophy, or rather imperfect human philosophy, 
 perplexed in the fact of his coming, is equally per- 
 plexed in relation to the form of his coming. It thinks 
 more of greatness than of innocence ; and vainly im- 
 agines, that a descending God cannot come in less 
 than a king's chariot, and with the noise of trumpets, 
 and with royal purple and gold. But such is not the 
 expectation of that better and divine philosophy, which 
 attaches the highest value to purity and love. Divine 
 wisdom, without stopping to inquire at the great 
 schools of human learning, chooses its own form. 
 And what form, helpless though it may be, is more 
 beautiful in itself, or more significant and emblematic 
 of truth and beauty, than that of an infant ? Or what 
 place is more fitting and suitable to such an advent 
 and manifestation, than a mother's arms ? 
 
452 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 And I may say further that I personally sympathize 
 in those deep instincts of the human heart, to which 
 I have referred; — I mean those instincts which need 
 and require the manifestation and presence of a di- 
 vine nature ; — and that I rejoice also in the manner 
 in which these yearnings of the heart have been re- 
 sponded to. To those who are weak in spirit like 
 myself, the manifestation of Divinity in humanity, so 
 that in our helplessness we may feel the hand of the 
 Infinite and be lifted up, is not only a possibility but 
 a necessity. Believing as I do, that in the name of 
 Jesus the many evils which exist in the world are to 
 be subdued, its sorrows ended and its discordancies 
 harmonized, it is not without emotion that I have 
 come from a distant land, to the place which the 
 guiding star has illuminated ; and that I offer here the 
 " myrrh and frankincense " of a penitent and believ- 
 ing heart. 
 
 The star, which shines over this sacred spot, — em- 
 blematic of the heavenly radiance, — is to me the source 
 of light. I endeavored in my early days to study the 
 philosophies, and to become acquainted with the mas- 
 ters and teachers of men. I felt that I needed illu- 
 mination. But standing as I now do on the hill of 
 Bethlehem, and by the cradle of the manger, I am 
 not ashamed in these last years of my life ; and after 
 the labor of many hopeless inquiries, — to say, that I 
 accept of the coming of this infant Jesus, and that I 
 am willing to be taught by a child. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 453 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF VISITING THE BIRTH- 
 PLACE OF THE SAVIOUR IN BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Philosophers of other days, 
 
 In learned schools, their wisdom taught, 
 
 And earned from human tongues the praise 
 Of guides and lights of human thought ; — 
 
 But here, an infant's lips declare 
 
 A wisdom which they did not share. 
 
 The kings and conquerors of old, 
 Who marched to power through seas of gore, 
 
 Kode in their chariots of gold, 
 And crown and sceptre proudly bore ; — 
 
 But here an infant's sceptre bears 
 
 A weight of power, which was not theirs. 
 
 The weak are great in outward show, 
 
 Magnificent in high pretence ; 
 But God, descending here below, 
 
 Appears in peace and innocence ; — 
 He seeks no power of arms or arts 
 But that of conquering human hearts. 
 
 Temples, and towers, and thrones may fall, 
 
 And learning's institutes go down, 
 But in the wreck that sweeps o'er all, 
 
 Christ shall come up, and wear the crown; — 
 And from their scattered dust shall spring 
 The empire of the infant King. 
 
 He reigns, — to judge the poor man's cause ; 
 
 He reigns, tyrannic sway to bind ; 
 He reigns, to renovate the laws, 
 
 And heal the wanderings of the mind ; — 
 Restoring, in his mighty plan, 
 God's empire in the soul of man. 
 
454 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 (XLVII.) 
 
 Introductory remarks — Visit to the Mount of Olives — Historical noti- 
 ces — Mount Zion — Valley of Hinnom — Church of the Holy Sep- 
 ulchre — Hill of Scopus — Titus — Return from the mountain — Gar- 
 den of Gethsemane — Poetry. 
 
 CITY OF JERUSALEM, FOURTH LETTER. 
 
 The objects of interest in Jerusalem and its vicini- 
 ty are very numerous. I shall not undertake a minute 
 description, which is better left to those who have 
 more time ; and who come here with the requisite 
 qualifications, and under circumstances which are 
 more favorable to extended and specific inquiries. — 
 There is much work in Jerusalem and its vicinity for 
 profound scholars, for painters, poets, historians ; — a 
 work which, it is very certain, cannot be satisfactorily 
 performed, especially so far as relates to its contro- 
 verted antiquities, by transient visitants. There are 
 men, however, who in due time will be found adequate 
 to the task. Without mentioning all the names which 
 I now have in my mind, I will only say here that Dr. 
 Robinson of our own country has made a good and 
 very thorough beginning, which entitles him to the 
 gratitude of the friends of biblical science ; and fu- 
 ture inquiries, connected with the same ability and 
 energy, will throw great light upon these interesting 
 topics. At the same time I think there may possibly 
 be some value in those more general writings, where 
 the moral, social and physical are mingled together.— 
 I shall describe, or rather make the attempt to describe, 
 only generally and briefly. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 455 
 
 I went one day to the top of the Mount of Olives, 
 in company with my American friends. From this 
 commanding position, we endeavored to arrange and 
 fix in our minds the objects around us. With an esti- 
 mated height of more than two thousand feet above 
 the Mediterranean, carrying it high above Jerusalem, 
 this celebrated mountain, which in itself is an object 
 of great interest, was favorable to our purpose. Stand- 
 ing on that part of the summit, which is occupied by 
 the chapel of the Ascension, — so called because it 
 was supposed by its builders to be erected over the 
 place where the Saviour ascended, — we gazed with 
 deep interest upon the various objects which here pre- 
 sented themselves to view. Looking in one direction, 
 we had before us Jerusalem, and the deep ravines 
 which enclose it on the south and east, and the moun- 
 tains which arise above it on every side. In the other 
 direction was the rough and elevated region, bounded 
 by the valley of the Jordan and the Dead Sea, and by 
 the mountains of Moab beyond. 
 
 But this first visit, which enabled me to fix in mind 
 the outlines of objects, was calculated to satisfy the 
 head rather than the heart. Perhaps I may more clear- 
 ly express myself thus. The mind went out to the 
 objects ; but the influence of the objects had not time 
 to come back, and to write itself upon the mind. The 
 Mount of Olives must take its own time, and have its 
 visitant all to itself, in order to make present and to 
 convey into the soul all that it is capable of revealing. 
 
 This, I suppose, will be easily understood. Places, 
 as well as persons, have power. Thoughts, whose 
 seeds are in the soul, are oftentimes the product and 
 
456 LETTERS— AESTHETIC, 
 
 the out-growth of situations. The influence, which 
 such situations or places possess over the human mind, 
 is very various in its origin ; — sometimes from the 
 greatness of nature and sometimes from the greatness 
 of art ; — sometimes from the power which they still 
 hold, and not unfrequently from the power which they 
 have lost, — sometimes from sympathy with the living, 
 and sometimes from the memory of the dead. Many 
 are the places, which thus speak to the soul, either 
 with a natural or associated power. 
 
 One of the many places which have this power in 
 a remarkable degree, — perhaps as much so or with 
 very few exceptions as any in the world, — is the 
 Mount of Olives. Irregular in its surface, with here 
 and there a few olives and fig-trees still growing among 
 its projecting rocks, it adds to the impressions which 
 naturally attach to its rough and majestic form, the 
 power which it derives from its history, its associa- 
 tions, and its position. 
 
 I had gone through the streets of Jerusalem ; and 
 had rapidly examined, both within and without its 
 walls, the various objects of interest, which the pens 
 of numerous travellers have sufFciently made known. 
 But before our little company left the city on our way 
 to other parts of Palestine, and on the route prelimi- 
 nary to our return to America, I felt a secret and strong 
 desire to ascend once more the Mountain where the 
 Saviour had so often been ; — and aided by its lofty 
 summit, to look again upon the theatre of the great 
 scenes and sufferings which the Scriptures record. On 
 the occasion to which I now refer, which was a day or 
 two before our departure, it was convenient for me to 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 457 
 
 go alone. This solitary visit, like a visit to the tomb 
 of a departed friend, harmonized with the state of my 
 feelings; — because my object was, not to converse 
 with men, but with God, nature, history and eternity. 
 I easily found a secluded and lofty position suited to 
 my object ; and as I looked abroad from that memo- 
 rable height, I felt how one short hour could re-pro- 
 duce and live over again the growth and the decay, 
 the agonies and triumphs of ages. 
 
 Jerusalem, as it is now, and in its natural features 
 as it always has been, was all before me ; — a place 
 more closely associated than any other with the des- 
 tinies of men, and going back in its history to the 
 early periods of the human race. Taken by David 
 from the Jebusites, and in the reigns of David and 
 Solomon advancing to great wealth and splendor, — 
 destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar, — rebuilt in the times 
 of Nehemiah, — captured and laid waste by the Ro- 
 man armies under Pompey the great, — restored and 
 beautified by Antipater and Herod, — destroyed again 
 by Titus and in part restored by Adrian, — and at later 
 periods successively captured and held by the Per- 
 sians, Arabians, Turks and Crusaders, it still stands, 
 amid all these changes and revolutions, an object of 
 deep interest and attraction. 
 
 Checking this natural tendency to indulge in his- 
 torical recollections, that I might the better under- 
 stand the place which gave rise to them, my eye first 
 ran along the circuit of its beautiful but irregular 
 walls ; and then glancing rapidly upon the valley of 
 the Kedron and over the steep rocky heights beyond 
 it, rested upon the magnificent mosque of Omar. This 
 39 
 
458 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 great structure, a sad memorial of the vicissitudes to 
 which Jerusalem has been subject, is built within the 
 present walls of the city on the eastern side, and over- 
 looks the abrupt, rocky valley of Jehoshaphat ; — occu- 
 pying the top of that Mount Moriah, which is sup- 
 posed to be the place where Abraham was directed to 
 offer up Isaac. The place, which is occupied by this 
 imposing Mohammedan edifice, is the precise spot, 
 which was occupied in other times, and under other 
 and different influences, by the great temple of Solo- 
 mon. 
 
 Imagination, which controls time as well as places, 
 and has the power of changing and remodeling all 
 things, was not slow in banishing the mosque and in 
 remodeling and replacing the temple. It was there, 
 I said to myself, that the wonderful structure stood, 
 of which I had read so much in my childhood; and 
 which, described in history and rendered visible in 
 paintings, had become a part of my thoughts and 
 dreams ; — on the place which is now before me ; — -the 
 place, ascertained and identified with the concurrence 
 of all antiquarians ; and which, as I looked upon it in 
 its marked and imposing outlines, seemed to *ne to 
 carry the evidence of its historic claims in itself. It 
 was there, then, that the great edifice was erected, — 
 the " Lord's house," shining in cedar and gold, which 
 required a nation's wealth in building, which held the 
 ark and tables of the covenant and the cherubims of 
 glory ; and which, by its history, its position, and its 
 rites and ceremonies, became the central and con- 
 trolling element in that system of religion, which was 
 superseded by the mission and the doctrines of Christ. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 459 
 
 The subterranean crypts, arches and gates, and the 
 immense blocks of granite, constituting together the 
 vast substructions which still remain, — some above 
 ground and some below, — but which will be likely to 
 be better known in the explorations of future times, — 
 furnish evidence, that what is said in the Bible of the 
 glory both of the first and second temple, and of the 
 wealth and skill of the times of Solomon, is no exag- 
 geration. 
 
 As the traveller stands upon the Mount of Olives, 
 the ancient as well as the modern Jerusalem, at least 
 in its essential outlines, is restored and made present 
 to his eye. Following the attractions of sight and 
 memory, and crossing the deep Tyropceon valley, 
 which, however, is now nearly filled up and is hardly 
 perceptible from this elevated position, he next as- 
 cends the hill of Zion. Here, in the neighborhood of 
 the Bethlehem gate, is the tower of Hippicus, stand- 
 ing in grandeur to the present hour, — whose strong 
 foundations hardly less immovable than the mountain 
 itself, carry the mind back to distant ages. Some an- 
 tiquarians assign the laying of these massive founda- 
 tions to the historic era of king David. Beyond the 
 wall, and within the court or enclosed area of a Mo- 
 hammedan Mosque, is David's tomb. " His sepul- 
 chre," says the Apostle Peter, " is with us unto this 
 day." Around the tomb are small cultivated fields. 
 The denunciations of prophesy are fulfilled. The 
 ploughshare has passed over the summit of Zion. 
 
 It was here, in this part of Jerusalem, that the son 
 of Jesse, the warrior and Psalmist of Israel, had his 
 residence. This, then, is that hill of Zion, which he 
 
460 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 describes in his own matchless language, as " beauti- 
 ful for situation, the joy of the whole earth." This 
 is the place, which for ages held the sword and the 
 seat of empire. From this mountain rock, which lifts 
 its southern brow so proudly over the deep valley of 
 Hinnom, the tide of aggressive war has been scattered 
 and driven back. Conquering armies, proud to obey 
 the greatest king of Israel, have stood upon its frown- 
 ing height. 
 
 But with all these lofty recollections, thronging 
 around this memorable place, I could not suppress tjie 
 thought, that this was not its chief honor. It is not 
 the spear but the lyre of David, 
 
 " The harp the monarch minstrel swept," 
 which survives most deeply and distinctly in the 
 memory of later generations. The hill of Zion may 
 perish, but I ^think it may be said of the songs of 
 Zion — estimated by those who have the true insight 
 of poetry as well as religious feeling, — that they have 
 a life which cannot die. 
 
 With such impressions, I must confess, that my 
 eye was not tired in looking upon the spot, which 
 gave origin to those divine songs and lyric odes which 
 bear the Psalmist's name ; — poems, which embody 
 with such mingled simplicity and power the various 
 forms of natural and religious feeling, of natural and 
 religious truth, that they descend to the level of the 
 understanding and heart of a child, while at the same 
 time, by their great thoughts and sublimity, they fill 
 and satisfy minds of the greatest breadth and culture. 
 It was there that he gazed upon those surrounding 
 heights and mountains, which still look down upon 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 461 
 
 his burial place. It was there that he walked forth at 
 night, and looked again with his poetic eye upon the 
 deep blue heavens, which he had watched and loved, 
 when in early life he tended his father's flocks in 
 Bethlehem. " When I consider thy heavens, the work 
 of thy fingers ; the moon and the stars which thou 
 hast ordained ; — What is man that thou art mindful 
 of him? And the son of man that thou dost visit 
 him ?" 
 
 The hill of Zion is often regarded as the type or 
 earthly emblem of heaven. And why should it not 
 be ? It is . a place, which is lofty and imperial ; and 
 the cavernous depths of Gehenna, hardly less terrible 
 than when its fire and smoke ascended, are still far 
 below it. But it is entitled to this distinction and 
 lifts the mind to a better state of things, not only on 
 account of its elevation ; but still more because it is 
 the hill of song. Song is truth, uttered in harmony. 
 Heaven is what it is, because nothing enters there 
 which " loveth and maketh ~ a lie," and because the 
 truth which enters and is embodied within it, in be- 
 ing always consistent with itself, has no discordant 
 sounds ; but is always uttering, by the very necessities 
 of its nature, a voice which is full of melody. Heaven, 
 therefore, whatever other attributes may attach to it, 
 is the true locality of whatever is highest and best 
 in the conception of poetic harmony. And hence it is 
 natural that the place on earth, which has breathed 
 forth the sweetest and tenderest melodies, should be 
 the sign and emblem of the heavenly inheritance. 
 
 But what a contrast of associations, as well as of 
 height and depth, may be seen at no great distance. 
 39* 
 
462 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 As we approach the edge of the hill of Zion, we look 
 down almost with dizziness, into the deep valley which 
 bounds it on the south and south-western side ; — the 
 valley of Hinnom of the Old Testament ; — the Ge- 
 henna of the New. In this valley there was once an 
 idolatrous image of the heathen god Moloch, who ex- 
 acted from his followers the rites and sacrifices of his 
 cruel worship. In those sad days it was truly the 
 place of weeping and wailing. Gloomy and terrible 
 in itself and terrible in its history and associations, it 
 was afterwards the place where the useless and decay- 
 ing impurities of the city, including the dead bodies 
 of animals and malefactors, were collected together. 
 And this was done, so frequently, and to such an ex- 
 tent, that the fires, which were rendered necessary for 
 the purpose of consuming them, were kept continu- 
 ally burning. This is no place of song. This is no 
 emblem of the heavenly world. These masses of cor- 
 ruption, these ever burning fires, and the columns of 
 smoke continually ascending, furnish the terrible fig- 
 ures, which are employed by the writers of the Bible 
 to indicate the opposite of a state of blessedness, and 
 to shadow forth the end and destiny of the wicked. 
 
 At some distance from Mount Zion, a little outside 
 of the line of the ancient wall, which antiquarians 
 profess to be able still to trace, but within the limits 
 of the modern city, is the rocky height, surmounted 
 by the church of the Holy Sepulchre, where the Sa- 
 viour was crucified. This vast church, which in itself 
 is a history, has been so often described in its length 
 and breadth, in its towering arches and columns, that 
 I will say nothing in relation to it so far as its archi- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 463 
 
 tecture is concerned. The church is adjusted in its 
 foundations, to the hill and rock of Calvary. I had 
 visited it before the time of which I am now speaking. 
 I had ascended the successive flights of steps, which led 
 to the elevated platform, covering the portion of the rock 
 where the cross is said to have been placed, and where 
 the Saviour was crucified. I had gone down into 
 another part of the church at a little distance, and 
 seen the place where he was buried. A small chapel, 
 not wanting in beauty, is built over it. And many are 
 the pilgrims, from many and distant lands, that kneel 
 beneath it. 
 
 At such a time and amid such remembrances, I 
 must confess that I had no disposition to think of 
 painting or architecture, of Greek or Jew, of Saracen 
 or Roman, of Helena or Justinian, — not even of pro- 
 phets and apostles, — but only of that one good and 
 innocent man — the child of Mary and the incarnate 
 Son of God — whose blood, shed upon the elevated 
 rock, may be said to have re-adjusted heaven and 
 earth, by cementing once more the broken links of 
 love, life and immortality. 
 
 I am aware of the fact, that some biblical antiqua- 
 rians have doubted, whether the crucifixion took place 
 on the site of the church of the Holy Sepulchre. I 
 will not undertake to reconcile and measure the pro- 
 babilities of a question, which a life's labors would 
 not be sufficient to exhaust. But seated as I am, on 
 the summit of the Mount of Olives, with Jerusalem, 
 and the objects around it for miles in extent fully in 
 view, I think I can say without impropriety, even if 
 there is a foundation for the doubt, to w T hich I have 
 referred, that my eyes have rested beyond a question 
 
464 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 upon the place where this great transaction actually 
 occurred. Whether it was within or without the walls 
 of the present Jerusalem, it was certainly within the 
 field of vision, as I look outward and around from 
 this overshadowing height. Situated as I now am, 
 and looking upon the general aspect of things without 
 always being certain of particulars, it is not necessary, 
 in order to see the Son of God led to execution, to 
 confine myself to the traditionary limits of the Via 
 Dolorosa. I can behold the cross erected, whether 
 it was within or without the measurements of the 
 church of the Holy Sepulchre. My mind, without 
 accepting or rejecting the glasses of tradition, avails 
 itself of the aid which this lofty height affords me, to 
 see by the light of its own intuitions, and to adjust 
 its own localities. And seeing with the heart also, as 
 well as with the outward sight, every thing becomes 
 a reality. The Divine victim is before me. His gush- 
 ing blood flows down. His dying voice exclaims, It 
 is Finished. I hear the rending of the vail of the 
 temple. I see the quaking and the rending of the 
 rocks. 
 
 The death of Christ was also the death of a great 
 and venerated system ; — a system which had its sea- 
 son and its uses, but which always proclaimed itself 
 to be only the precursor of another state of things, — 
 less striking in the form but more efficacious in the 
 spirit, — and which should be better suited to the ad- 
 vancing intelligence of the human race. And that 
 sad event, witnessed in the very place which my eyes 
 now behold, while it swept away the priest, the altar 
 and the temple, was at the same time the building 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 465 
 
 up of the inward temple and the inauguration of the 
 reign of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 In the passing away of the old system, punishment 
 found the fitting occasion to vindicate its claims and 
 to adjust itself to crime. And a great nation, which 
 had shed the blood of the innocent, was smitten by 
 the hand of retribution ; and the name of its great- 
 ness and power forever passed away. 
 
 I turned my eye away from the church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre. I looked in a little different direction. I 
 saw on the north side of the city, a little beyond the 
 upper valley of the Kedron, and rising above the road 
 which leads to Shechem and Samaria, a gently ascend- 
 ing but lofty height of land, which is called the hill 
 of Scopus. It was on that spot, according to Jose- 
 phus, that Titus, who had marched into Palestine the 
 fierce legions which his father Vespasian had left 
 in Alexandria, cast his proud eye for the first time on 
 the city of Jerusalem. This was that Titus, under 
 whose triumphal arch I had stood at Rome, and saw 
 on its sculptured sides the emblems of his victory. 
 Seated sternly on his war-horse like the sculptured 
 Aurelius in the Roman Campodoglio, he is worthy of 
 our attention — and more than that he at once seizes 
 and fixes our attention, — because he holds forth in 
 his lofty front and his uplifted arm the marks of the 
 man of providential destiny. 
 
 It is true that every man is a providence ; that each 
 one, whether great or small, fills a place which no 
 other one can ; and holds a link in the great chain of 
 events which can be uplifted by no other hand. But 
 it is not true that every man's providential position 
 
466 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 and relations are known ; and not being known, they 
 are not the subject of specific thought and medita- 
 tion. It was not so with the son of Vespasian. As 
 he stands under the combined light of prophesy and 
 history, he is exhibited to the world's view a provi- 
 dential instrument, an agent that fulfills purposes not 
 his own; a man of inevitable destiny. Perhaps he 
 knew not his own position ; but the " blinded beast," 
 says an old writer, " that turns the wheel of the mill, 
 though it seeth not, neither knows what it does, yet 
 doeth a great work in grinding the corn." Neither 
 his knowledge nor his ignorance would have any ef- 
 fect in altering the plans of infinite wisdom, and in 
 disturbing the connection of everlasting adjustments. 
 The man, the hour, and the destiny had met. As he 
 looked once more upon Jerusalem, and pointed out 
 to his soldiers the walls and towers of the devoted 
 city, he bore in that extended arm, feeble in itself but 
 mighty in its relations, the hidden thunders and light- 
 nings of God. 
 
 Such were some of the objects, which were pre- 
 sented to my notice. Such were some of the reflec- 
 tions, which arose in my mind. I had thus stood for 
 the last time upon the mountain, which looked down 
 upon a vast panorama, not more of nature than of 
 great and wonderful events. Resuming my way to- 
 wards the city, I followed the narrow and winding 
 path, which has been trodden for ages. In coming 
 down from the rocky height, I fell in company with a 
 shepherd, who was driving before him a flock of sheep 
 and goats. The keeper of sheep trod in the footpath 
 of kings. It was over these heights that the exiled 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 467 
 
 David fled from the triumphant Absalom. In a short 
 time he drove the sheep into a rude sheepfold made 
 of rocks. And again I walked on alone. 
 
 At a little distance from me I noticed the tradition- 
 ary place, where the Saviour is said to have wept over 
 Jerusalem. Reaching the foot of the mountain, I stop- 
 ped at the garden of Gethsemane. At a little distance 
 on my right was the beautiful chapel and the sepul- 
 chre of the Virgin Mary. The traditionary belief is 
 that the dust of the mother reposes near the garden, 
 which witnessed the heavy trials of her Divine Son. 
 The garden of Gethsemane is now enclosed by a high 
 wall, which overlooks the channel of the Kedron. I 
 entered it and walked among the flowers, which the 
 hand of Christian veneration loves to cultivate on its 
 sacred soil, and beneath the shade of the aged olive 
 trees, the growth of many hundred, — perhaps of a 
 thousand years. 
 
 And this, I said to myself, was the garden of pre- 
 paratory suffering ; — the sad and memorable scene of 
 one of the most trying periods of the Saviour's life. 
 This was the place of his agony. It was here he 
 kneeled and prayed. " If it be possible, let this cup 
 pass from me. Nevertheless not as I will, but as 
 Thou wilt." 
 
 The world of spirits took an interest in this great 
 struggle. An angel appeared, — strengthening him. 
 His prayer was answered. The will of his Father 
 was accomplished. The Son of God was betrayed 
 into the hands of wicked men. His blood flowed up- 
 on Calvary. Jerusalem was destroyed. But a world 
 was redeemed. 
 
468 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE, 
 
 MAY, 1853. 
 
 Oh let me not forget ! 'Twas here, 
 Earth of the Saviour's grief and toil ! 
 
 He knelt ; — and oft the falling tear 
 Mingled his sorrows with thy soil ; — 
 
 When, in the Garden's fearful hour, 
 
 He felt the great temptation's power. 
 
 Here was the proffer'd bitter cup. 
 
 " Thy will be done.' 1 The Saviour said, 
 His faith received, and drank it up, 
 
 Amazed, the baffled tempter fled, — 
 Repulsed, with all his hate and skill, 
 Before an acquiescent will. 
 
 Oh man ! In memory of that hour 
 
 Let rising murmurs be repress'd ; 
 And learn the secret of thy power 
 
 Within a calm and patient breast. 
 " Thy will be done." 'Tis that, which rolls 
 Their agony from suffering souls. 
 
 Such is the lesson that I find, 
 
 Here, in the Saviour's place of tears ; — 
 
 The lesson, that the trusting mind 
 
 Has strength to conquer griefs and fears ; 
 
 And doom'd upon the cross to die, 
 
 Finds death itself a victory. 
 
 (XLVIII.) 
 
 Departure from Jerusalem — Last view of it— Village of Beeroth — Spend 
 the night at Bethel — Visit to the mountain east of Bethel — Well of 
 Jacob — Christ's conversation with the Samaritan woman — Tomb 
 of Joseph — City of Shechem. 
 
 SHECHEM, FOOT OF MOUNT GERIZIM, MAY 24, 1853. 
 
 We left the city of Jerusalem, Monday, the 23d of 
 May. We were delayed in our preparations ; and it 
 was near noon when we departed. Our object was 
 to go into Galilee and the region of Nazareth. The 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 469 
 
 direction'of our route, therefore, was towards the nor- 
 thern part of Palestine ; the country of Ephraim and 
 Manasseh, of Issachar and Zebulon. Soon after leav- 
 ing the walls of the city, we passed through a large 
 grove of olive trees ; in which we met from time to 
 time with groups of people of both sexes, who seemed 
 to enjoy its retirement and shade. At the distance 
 of about a mile in a northwest direction, reaching a 
 piece of rising ground which afforded a wide prospect, 
 we stopped; and turning and looking back, took a 
 last view. The city with its walls and towers, the 
 valley of the Kedron, and beyond it the Mount of 
 Olives, were in full sight. 
 
 From no other point, with the exception of the 
 Mount of Olives, had it appeared to us so beautiful. 
 Was it strange, that we stopped thus to gaze upon it ? 
 Our visit had been short ; but the scene had brought 
 back so much of the past and so vividly, — as if some 
 beloved friend had arisen from the dead and spoken 
 to us once more, — that we naturally felt sad at part- 
 ing. But as the scene, rising above all ordinary forms 
 of association and interest, had a relationship to the 
 soul itself, it was easy to carry away its image in the 
 heart. From that hour, unseen by the outward sight, 
 it became the possession of the mind itself, — the liv- 
 ing child of memory. 
 
 The road we took is called the Damascus road. It 
 leads in the direction of that celebrated city. The 
 same day in the afternoon passing on our left the dis- 
 tant heights of Ramah and Nebi Samuel, we came, 
 at the distance of eight or nine miles from Jerusalem, 
 to the village of Beeroth ; — called by its present Arab 
 40 
 
470 LETTERS— ESTHETIC, 
 
 inhabitants Beereh. A copious fountain, which pro- 
 bably gave its name to the village, flows near it. In 
 the neighborhood of the village are extensive ruins. 
 We spent a little time in walking among massive 
 columns and arches, — the remains and testimonies of 
 the art and power of distant ages. The people of 
 the modern village, which is situated at a little dis- 
 tance on a slightly elevated piece of ground, came 
 down to the fountains. It seemed to be the gather- 
 ing place of men and children. The young women 
 also filled their large water jars, and carried them 
 away on their heads. Camels and horses stood at 
 the watering troughs. 
 
 This place, rendered attractive from the earliest 
 times by the abundance of its water and its fertility, is 
 repeatedly mentioned in the Scriptures. It is situated 
 on the road to Damascus, which is also for some dis- 
 tance the great road to Nazareth ; and there is a tra- 
 dition that it was here, that Joseph and Mary, on re- 
 turning from Jerusalem to Nazareth from the feast of 
 the Passover, first discovered, that the " child Jesus," 
 who had tarried behind without their knowledge, was 
 not in the company with them. 
 
 In accordance with the customs and traditions of 
 the country, which make Beeroth the first stopping- 
 place and the first day's journey from Jerusalem, the 
 people who conducted us, were desirous of remaining 
 here through the night. But this was inconsistent 
 with our arrangements and wishes, and we went on 
 three or four miles further, deviating a little from the 
 main route, and pitched our tents, about the time of 
 sunset, in a field in Bethel. The present name of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 471 
 
 Bethel, is Beiten : the Arabic variation of the orig- 
 inal Hebrew name. It was natural for us to desire to 
 reach this place, which is associated with interesting 
 names and incidents, and is often mentioned in the 
 Old Testament, though I believe it is not mentioned 
 in the New. The country around Bethel is uneven 
 and rocky ; sustaining in that respect the reputation 
 which it seems to have had in the days of the patri- 
 archs. It was here, that Jacob, journeying from Beer- 
 sheba, made at night a pillow of stones, and slept and 
 dreamed, and saw in vision the angels of God ascend- 
 ing and descending upon the ladder of heaven. It 
 was here that the Lord, who styled himself the Lord 
 God of Abraham and Isaac, appeared to Jacob in 
 this midnight vision of angels and of the opened 
 heavens, and spake to him, and promised him the 
 land on which his head was pillowed. And the place, 
 which had been previously called Luz by the Canaan- 
 ites, Jacob called Bethel or the Lord's house ; — the 
 name which it has borne since. We spent the night 
 here ; sleeping among the rocks. . 
 
 • Early the next morning we ascended a lofty hill 
 about a mile from our encampment, which seemed 
 to us to correspond to the description given in the 
 twelfth chapter of Genesis ; — " a mountain on the 
 east of Bethel, having Bethel on the West and Hai 
 on the East," and where it is said of Abraham, who 
 also as well as Jacob had travelled through this region 
 and at an earlier period, that he " builded an altar 
 unto the Lord and called upon the name of the Lord." 
 Here also are the fragmentary remains of buildings, 
 which are worthy of the notice of the antiquarian. 
 
472 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 In the time of the Canaanites Bethel was a royal 
 city and the residence of a king; and in the time of 
 Jeroboam, after the revolt of the ten tribes, it obtained 
 an unhappy celebrity as the place selected for idol 
 worship, in opposition to the worship of Jerusalem. 
 It is perhaps impossible at the present time to indi- 
 cate the precise site of the ancient city. The foot- 
 prints of an hundred generations have greatly dis- 
 turbed and nearly obliterated the lines that were 
 drawn around it. The massive heWn stones, how- 
 ever, which are found at intervals on the surface of 
 the ground or projecting from mounds of earth, and 
 the remains of buildings and other works which are 
 found on the hill I have mentioned, or between it and 
 the village which bears the name of Beitin, indicate 
 the existence in ancient times of a large city in this 
 vicinity. There is a large square pool or water-reser- 
 voir here formed of hewn stones, similar in extent and 
 solidity to the great works of this kind which are seen 
 at Hebron and Jerusalem. We found this ancient 
 reservoir, as we did in some other instances, destitute 
 of water. 
 
 Pursuing our journey we reached, on the afternoon 
 of the second day from J erusalem, the celebrated well 
 which bears the name of the patriarch Jacob. Among 
 the people of the country it is denominated to this 
 day Ain Yacoub, the well or fountain of Jacob ; — 
 though it is sometimes called also Atn Samarieh, the 
 w T ell of the Samaritan woman. By order of the Sy- 
 rian government, as we understood, and for the pur- 
 pose of preventing the injuries resulting in conse- 
 quence of persons constantly crowding around it and 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 473 
 
 into it, the top of the well has been closed for a num- 
 ber of years past by large stones placed over it. We 
 found, however, a small opening, which enabled some 
 of our party to let down a long measuring line ; and 
 thus to assure us of the correctness of the Scripture 
 statement, that the " well is deep." Before it was 
 closed this well had been repeatedly entered and ex- 
 amined by Christian travellers, who agree in ascrib- 
 ing to it a depth of about an hundred feet, Maun- 
 drell says of it, — " The well is covered at present with 
 an old stone vault, into which you are let down by a 
 very straight hole ; and then, removing a broad flat 
 stone, you discover the well itself. It is dug in a firm 
 rock, is about three yards in diameter, and thirty -five 
 in depth, five of which we found full of water." 
 
 It was by the side of this well that the wearied Sa- 
 viour, in his journey from Judea to Galilee, seated him- 
 self. And here, in conversation with the Samaritan 
 woman, he uttered those memorable words; — "Who- 
 soever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, 
 «hall never thirst ; but the water that I shall give him, 
 shall be in him a well of water, springing up to ever- 
 lasting life." And it was here that he uttered those 
 other words also, which are similar but still wider in 
 their import ; — " The hour cometh and now is, when 
 the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit 
 and in truth ; for the Father seeketh such to wor- 
 ship him. God is a Spirit j and they that worship 
 him must worship him in spirit and in truth." 
 
 How often have I thought upon these remarkable 
 sayings of the Saviour, so far beyond and above the 
 thoughts and anticipations of his age and his people, 
 40* 
 
474 LETTERS — -.ESTHETIC, 
 
 not knowing or thinking that I should ever stand up- 
 on the spot where they were uttered. 
 
 It was in this place it was announced, and from 
 this time it was understood clearly and forever, that 
 the true worship of God is mental rather than physi- 
 cal or local. In other words, it consists in the recti- 
 tude of dispositions. The homage which God loves, 
 is the soul's harmony with Himself and his infinite 
 relations. The temple of Solomon, emblematic of 
 the formal and restricted nature of the first worship, 
 covered the small circuit of Mount Moriah. It fell at 
 the bidding of Christ ; and through its sundered col- 
 umns, this new Captain of our salvation led the eman- 
 cipated world into the wide and great freedom of 
 God's spiritual temple. The locality of God's tem- 
 ple, over-topping and out-shining all human temples, 
 is the infinity of space. It is not necessary to go 
 over six thousand miles of ocean and over burning 
 sands in order to find it. The place of the true wor- 
 ship, no longer exclusively at Jerusalem or Gerizim, 
 is everywhere. Every valley, where there is a soul 
 to be tempted and to weep, may be a Gethsemane. 
 Every hill-top, where there are hearts to rejoice and 
 sing, may be a Zion. Every town and secluded vil- 
 lage, no matter in what land or beyond what ocean, 
 may become a Bethlehem ; — and every mind of man, 
 which shall break the bonds of selfishness, and make 
 room for his coming, may be a manger where the in- 
 fant Jesus shall be born. This great announcement, 
 this Magna Charta of spiritual freedom, was made 
 here. 
 ' Jacob's well, which suggested this remarkable con- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 475 
 
 versation, is not far from the narrow entrance, which 
 separates the mountains of Ebal and Gerizim. It is 
 excavated in the solid rock on the side of a gentle ele- 
 vation facing to the northeast, which gives a good 
 view of the large and beautiful plain, generally under- 
 stood to be the land, "bought by Jacob of the children 
 of Hamor." It was here that Jacob resided for a time ; 
 and there are but few places in Palestine more beau- 
 tiful and more fruitful than this. It is watered by a 
 large fountain, which flows at a little distance from 
 the well of Jacob. Beyond this clear fresh rivulet, and 
 less than a quarter of a mile's distance north from the 
 well, is the structure, which bears the name of the 
 tomb of Joseph. That the body of Joseph was brought 
 from Egypt and was buried in this vicinity, there can 
 be no doubt. It is expressly said in the book of Joshua, 
 that the children of Israel brought the bones of Joseph 
 out of Egypt and buried them in Shechem "in a par- 
 cel of ground, which Jacob bought of the sons of 
 Hamor." A square, stone edifice, open at the top, is 
 erected around the supposed place of his interment. 
 But at what time and by whom it was built, is un- 
 known. Within it is a small, unostentatious tomb, 
 such as is frequently seen in oriental burying grounds, 
 far different from the splendid tomb which I had seen 
 in the rocky heights of Beni Hassan, overhanging the 
 broad bosom of the Nile ; — and in which, according 
 to the traditions of the country, his remains were de- 
 posited till the departure of his people from Egypt. 
 
 Leaving this interesting locality, and advancing again 
 upon our journey, we passed at once between the lofty 
 mountains of Ebal and Gerizim. These mountains 
 
476 LETTERS iESTHETIC, 
 
 are twenty-five hundred feet above the level of the 
 sea ; and nearly a thousand feet above the valleys and 
 plains immediately around them. Their sides are 
 rocky and steep ; and they stand face to face, un- 
 changed and unchangeable, as they stood thousands 
 of years ago. In looking upon the rugged heights of 
 Gerizim, I could not forget, that they were anciently 
 occupied by the place of Samaritan worship, to which 
 the woman of Samaria alluded, in her conversation 
 with the Saviour. " Our fathers worshiped in this 
 mountain." 
 
 At the entrance of the mountain pass, which com- 
 mences near the Well of Jacob, the two mountains 
 approach very near each other at the base ; — so near 
 that the human voice, as it seemed to me, might 
 be heard without difficulty from one to the other. It 
 was here, in the beautiful valley between them,-beau- 
 tiful now, and still more beautiful then,— that the Ark 
 of the Covenant once stood, in the days of Joshua. 
 Priests and Levites were gathered around it. The 
 tribes of Israel, rejoicing in their victories over the 
 Canaanites, and if I may so express it, fresh from 
 contemplating the great miracles of God, pressed with 
 their thronging masses into the valley and on the sides 
 of the two mountains. With half of the tribes on 
 Gerizim and half of the tribes on Ebal, they stood and 
 listened to the reading of the Law of Moses, and the 
 blessings and curses of Jehovah ; — blessings upon the 
 good and curses upon the evil. 
 
 The sight of the mountains where these things ac- 
 tually occurred, replaced this remarkable scene among 
 the vivid pictures of imagination and memory ; — and. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 477 
 
 it was not surprising that the mountains themselves, 
 as we passed between them, should seem a sort of 
 proclamation and testimony of the truth of the his- 
 torical events with which they had been connected. 
 
 Proceeding a little further, we reached the ancient 
 city of Shechem, which is called Sychar in the New 
 Testament. It is situated in a place in the valley, 
 where the two mountains recede a little more from 
 each other ; — a mile and a half distant from Jacob's 
 Well, and in a direction nearly west. It is supposed 
 to contain at the present time from six to seven thou- 
 sand inhabitants. At the time of the Roman domina- 
 tion in Palestine, and about forty years after the death 
 of Christ, this city was enlarged and underwent so 
 many alterations and improvements, that it was called 
 Neapolis or the new city. It is from the name of Ne- 
 apolis, which was given to it under these circumstan- 
 ces, that we have the name of Nablous, which is now 
 commonly applied to it. The city of Shechem, if I 
 may be allowed to substitute the ancient and biblical 
 name for that of Nablous, is often mentioned in the 
 history of the Jews ; and at the present moment I 
 think it may be regarded as one of the most flourish- 
 ing and interesting towns in Palestine. 
 
 In this city there are still to be found a few Samari- 
 tans, — the diminished and perishing remnants of a 
 once remarkable people, who retain their primitive at- 
 tachments to the Samaritan institutions and beliefs ; 
 and who are understood to be as far as ever from any 
 harmony or any associations with the Jews. When 
 the city of Samaria, in the vicissitudes of war and 
 conquest, had lost its original importance and had 
 
478 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 gone to decay, it was natural that the Samaritans 
 should select that city as their place of residence and 
 as the centre of their religious authority and polity, 
 which was nearest to the mountain where their fa- 
 thers worshipped. They pride themselves that they 
 hold to the doctrines and ceremonies of the books of 
 Moses without accepting other portions of the canon 
 of the Old Testament ; — and it is said, that the smoke 
 of their sacrifices even now may be seen ascending 
 from time to time from the heights of Gerizim. 
 
 Earnestly did I gaze on the celebrated mountains 
 which enclose the city on both sides with their lofty 
 walls. Ascending a little distance on mount Gerizim, 
 I could not doubt from what came under my own no- 
 tice, that its accessible places had been occupied in 
 early times by the habitations of men ; and that the 
 mountain, grand and imposing in itself, had been 
 beautified by works of art. The heights above, mas- 
 sive and rugged with rocks, — the valley below, filled 
 with shrubbery and flowers, — constituted a combina- 
 tion of beauty and grandeur, which was not exceeded 
 by anything that had fallen under our observation in 
 any other places of Palestine. 
 
 It was at the city of Shechem that we spent the 
 second night after leaving Jerusalem. The trees of 
 the valley waved around our tent. I shut myself with- 
 in its folds, to make some brief records or to commit 
 more deeply to memory the impressions which had 
 been made upon me. And in the silence of the night 
 I did not forget those words, which the circumstances 
 of the day had brought so vividly to mind ; : — " God is 
 a Spirit ; and they that worship him must worship Him 
 in spirit and in truth." 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 479 
 
 (XLIX.) 
 
 Arrival at Samaria — Its ancient greatness — Church of John the Bap- 
 tist — Reach En-Gannim or Jenin — Proceed towards Tabor — Jez- 
 reel — Plain of Esdraelon — Arab horsemen — The Gazelle — Shu- 
 nem — Village of Nain — Arrival at Mount Tabor. 
 
 GALILEE, BASE OF MOUNT TABOR, MAY 26, 1853. 
 
 On the morning of the third day after our departure 
 from Jerusalem, we left Shechem ; — the Shechem of 
 the Old Testament, but bearing in the New Testa- 
 ment the name of Sychar. We started early in the 
 morning ; — on our way to another city of still greater 
 celebrity, the ancient city of Samaria. Our tents had 
 been pitched on a beautiful plain at the foot of Mount 
 Gerizim. Before the light of the morning sun had 
 reached them, they were once more struck ; — our Sy- 
 rian horses were saddled ; — and we went down at once 
 into a deep valley. Through this valley, which great- 
 ly attracted our attention in consequence of its various 
 enchantments, there flows a bright and musical stream. 
 It scatters richness in its path. The trees and shrubs 
 which spring up around it are such as are common in 
 these regions, — pomegranates, almonds, olives, mul- 
 berries, the fig-tree, the vine, the orange and the olean- 
 der. The valley, in its great fertility, seemed to be 
 loaded everywhere with the yellow richness of its fruits 
 and the varied hues of its flowers. The stars gradu- 
 ally retired from the sky. The golden sunbeams crept 
 silently among the dewy branches. I listened to the 
 voice of the rocky stream. The song of the morning 
 birds answered to the song of the waters. Nature 
 
480 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 rejoiced and put on her ornaments at the sound of 
 these sweet voices. 
 
 Proceeding thus some eight or nine miles in a nor- 
 thern direction through a country, contrasting strongly 
 in the whole distance with the barren mountains and 
 plains, which are to be found in many other parts of 
 Palestine, we came to the city of Samaria. This city, 
 situated on the side of a lofty but gently sloping hill, 
 with broad and deep valleys around it, was once the 
 residence of the kings of Israel, after the revolt of 
 the ten tribes against the kings of the house of David. 
 Of the great wealth and splendor of Samaria, at dif- 
 ferent periods of its history, I suppose there can be no 
 reasonable doubt. It is said in the book of Kings, 
 that Ahab built a palace of ivory in Samaria ; and 
 prophetic denunciations, called forth by the luxury 
 and oppressions of the Samaritans, are found in the 
 book of the prophet Amos. " I will smite the winter 
 house with the summer house; and the houses of ivory 
 shall perish ; and the great houses shall have an end, 
 saith the Lord." These expressions indicate with 
 some distinctness the magnificence of the city of Sa- 
 maria at an early period. It had its vicissitudes ; but 
 its wealth and splendor remained for many years. — 
 After the conquest of Palestine by the Romans, and 
 during their authority here, Samaria was selected as 
 a place of vice-royal residence, and was enriched and 
 beautified by works of art. Herod the Great once 
 resided here ; and expending upon it all the vast re- 
 sources of his genius and tyrannical power, he gave 
 it the proud name of Sebaste, in honor of Augustus 
 Caesar. Christianity, also, at a later period, left the 
 impress of its piety and genius. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 481 
 
 Ascending the eastern brow of the Samaritan mount, 
 one of the objects that first met our view, were the 
 lofty remains of a Christian church, said to have been 
 built over the body of John the Baptist. Standing 
 afterwards upon the western brow, at a mile's distance 
 from this church, where the beauties of nature eclipsed 
 those of art, I cast my eye along the valleys of Sharon 
 towards the distant Caesarea and the waters of the 
 Mediterranean. The valleys and the waters live ; — 
 but cities perish, leaving a sad memorial. All around 
 us the dust was literally sown with columns ; — some 
 prostrate at full length on the ground ; — some partial- 
 ly buried and projecting from the side of the hill ; — 
 some standing erect in rows and at stated intervals, 
 but without capitals, like wounded and mutilated sol- 
 diers on the field of battle ; — some leaning towards 
 the ground, as if they were borne down with hearts 
 of sorrow, and were mourning the loss of their for- 
 mer greatness. They reminded me of those newly 
 ploughed fields in America, where the old stumps re- 
 main — the rough and ancient masters of the soil, — 
 refusing with stubbornness to be removed, and pro- 
 jecting raggedly and mournfully from the earth, in all 
 diversities of position. 
 
 Art, genius, power have been here ; — idolatry with 
 its abominations, wealth with its luxurious refine- 
 ments, art with its creative and adjusting eye, tyranny 
 with its kings, the just and purifying dispensation 
 of the Old Testament with the denunciations of its 
 Elijah and Elisha, and the peace, forgiveness and 
 purity of the New with its early and humble teach- 
 ers. The weary foot of the Son of God, the teacher 
 - 41 
 
482 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 from another world, the man unknown, has left its 
 pressure on these hills and valleys. He came from 
 the Jordan to Jerusalem and from Jerusalem to Gali- 
 lee ; and he " must needs go through Samaria." 
 
 In our rapid march, we may be said merely to have 
 looked on this interesting place, and then to have de- 
 parted. We directed our course towards Mount Ta- 
 bor and the Sea of Galilee. In the afternoon we 
 stopped at Jenin, the Ginsea of Josephus, and the 
 place which is otherwise called En-Gannim, the foun- 
 tain of gardens. As usual we pitched our tents out- 
 side of the place. Jenin is a considerable town, said 
 to contain two thousand inhabitants, with some fami- 
 lies of Greek Christians residing in it. Its houses 
 are of stone ; and comparatively it has a marked air 
 of neatness and comfort. It has its bazaar, its public 
 water-reservoir, and numerous gardens fenced in with 
 the prickly pear. We walked through its streets, drank 
 of its fresh and beautiful fountain, made some little 
 purchases, formed the traveller's passing acquaintance 
 with some of its inhabitants ; but were not able to 
 connect with it any Scriptural associations, except 
 that we here first obtained a sight, as we supposed, of 
 the mountains of Gilboa. 
 
 The next day, going in a northerly direction towards 
 Mount Tabor, we passed in the early part of the day 
 the ancient Jezreel. Its modern Arabic name is Zerin, 
 which is formed from the Hebrew by changing El in- 
 to In, a change frequently made ; and by dropping the 
 Yod of the first syllable. It is situated on the eastern 
 side of the great plain of Esdraelon. A few houses, 
 located on a steep rocky eminence, which projects 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 483 
 
 from the mountains of Gilboa and overlooks the plain, 
 but with nothing inviting or remarkable in their ap- 
 pearance, constitute all that now remains of this once 
 considerable place. Travellers speak of a few ancient 
 ruins here ; but we did not go into the place ; and in 
 passing it, noticed nothing but an old and broken Sar- 
 cophagus by the wayside. The celebrated valley of 
 Jezreel, which extends along the northern base of 
 Gilboa, and connects with the great plain of Esdrae- 
 lon, opens into the plain not far from the elevated site 
 of the city of Jezreel. From this valley there are foun- 
 tains, — one of considerable size, — flowing towards the 
 Jordan. It was here at the foot and on the sides of 
 Gilboa, and at the junction of the valley of Jezreel 
 with Esdraelon, and near the fountains I have men- 
 tioned, that Saul and Jonathan were encamped in 
 their last disastrous battle with the Philistines. 
 
 The great plain of Esdraelon is bounded by Mount 
 Carmel on the west and by Tabor, Hermon and Gil- 
 boa on the east. Proceeding over the plain in a north 
 direction from Jezreel, we came, at the distance of 
 four miles, to Shunem, the place of the encampment 
 of the Philistines in the great struggle, which was so 
 disastrous to the Israelites. So that the two armies 
 were encamped in sight of each other. Shunem is 
 now called Solam. Its situation is elevated and pleas- 
 ant. This place was the residence of the Shunamite 
 woman, with whom the prophet Elisha resided, and 
 whose son he raised from the dead. From the high 
 ground of Shunem there is a good view of this great 
 plain in the direction of Carmel. 
 
 As we were passing this part of the plain of Esdrae- 
 
484 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 Ion, our. Arab horsemen had a good opportunity to 
 exercise their skill in horsemanship, for which they are 
 much renowned. Their horses are small but full of 
 life, and exceedingly tractable. I am not prepared to 
 say, that they have all the intelligence, which Lamar- 
 tine and other travellers have sometimes ascribed to 
 them; but whether it be a part of their natural traits, 
 or is owing to that early and familiar training to which 
 they are accustomed, they certainly seem to have a 
 strange perception of their position*, and to sympathize 
 with their masters in a remarkable degree. They are 
 evidently susceptible of feelings of pride and mortifi- 
 cation ; and appear to understand very well, that their 
 master's honor is their own. They are well trained. 
 Their riders are skillful. They move with great swift- 
 ness ; — stopping at once in their rapid course at a sin- 
 gle word. They wheel suddenly. The dust rises un- 
 der their flying feet. They bound over the rocks. 
 
 When we were passing the part of the plain of Es- 
 draelon, which is between Jezreel and Shunem, and our 
 Arabs in great spirits were showing the skill of their 
 horses, they suddenly started a beautiful gazelle, that 
 was feeding quietly on the plain. The fleetest Arab 
 horsemen at once gave pursuit. The gazelle crossed 
 our path directly in front of me ; — taking a course over 
 the partially cultivated fields ; — bounding from furrow 
 to furrow, and from rock to rock. For some time it 
 was a doubtful contest. After a time the gazelle sud- 
 denly stopped and looked round, as if to understand 
 more fully the character of his pursuer. I involunta- 
 rily stopped my horse ; and looked on with sad amaze- 
 ment at this apparently hopeless want of wisdom 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 485 
 
 on the part of the poor animal. But in a moment, as 
 if he had ascertained precisely the rapidity of his ene- 
 my's movement and the danger and necessities of his 
 own position, he started again with renewed speed. 
 Fear or hope carried him over the reeds and rocks, as 
 if his little feet trod on the wings of the wind. I must 
 confess I experienced no small feeling of satisfaction, 
 when the baffled Arab wheeled around his panting 
 and smoking horse, and came slowly back to our 
 company. The victorious gazelle, gaining the top 
 of a rock on a little hill and lifting its sharp horn in 
 triumph, looked round with innocent but indignant 
 astonishment at this sudden and strange invasion of 
 the realm, which God had given and consecrated to 
 its life, its beauty and its freedom. 
 
 Shunem is situated at the western extremity of the 
 mountain, called the little Hermon. Turning the 
 western end of Hermon, we came about noon of the 
 same day to the small village of Nain on the northern 
 slope of this mountain ; — the place where the Saviour 
 raised the widow's son to life. The touching and sub- 
 lime narrative of the miracle performed in this ancient 
 city gave to the place a peculiar interest. Its situa- 
 tion is pleasant ; — so much so as probably to have 
 given origin to its name, which means the beautiful. 
 It is now small and decayed ; but we saw enough in 
 its present ruined condition to satisfy us, that it might 
 have been, and probably was, far different from its 
 present state, in former times. On the same side of 
 Hermon, but further east, and apparently a mile and 
 a half distant, is the village, — or perhaps I should ra- 
 ther say, — the site of the village of Endor ; — the resi- 
 41* 
 
486 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 dence of the strange and mysterious woman, whom 
 Saul in his troubles visited just before his final battle. 
 Endor is in sight from Nain on a gentle slope of the 
 little Hermon ; but was more distinctly seen as we 
 advanced farther upon the plain. Continuing our 
 journey across the plain of Esdraelon in a north-east- 
 ern direction, and passing the dry channels of small 
 streams which seemed to be tributaries of the river 
 Kishon, we have pitched our tents again, early in 
 the afternoon of this day, (May 26th,) at the base of 
 mount Tabor. Tabor is distant from Nain about 
 four miles ; and is sixteen miles, as near as we could 
 judge from our rate of movement, from En-Gannim 
 or Jenin ; — the place from which we started in the 
 morning. 
 
 At the base of Tabor, and at a little distance from 
 our encampment, is the pleasant Arab village of De- 
 burieh. It has its cultivated fields in front, reaching 
 out into the great plain ; its gardens around it with 
 their strong hedges of prickly pear ; and its full, spark- 
 ling fountain of water, the Ain-El-Sherar, which 
 flows into the Kishon. By some persons, I believe, 
 the fountain which rises here, is considered the cen- 
 tral and principal branch of that river. I have ob- 
 served here, as almost everywhere else in this region, 
 flocks of sheep and goats, and numerous oxen and 
 camels. The people of the village, quietly pursuing 
 their labors, are gathering in the products of the fields. 
 In going through this town I have noticed in repeated 
 instances large and deep excavations in the rocks be- 
 neath the surface of the ground ; — but without any 
 suitable opportunity to make inquiries in relation to 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 487 
 
 them. Undoubtedly the region at the foot of this 
 mountain has teemed with population in former ages ; 
 — but time which erases the past in giving birth to 
 the present, has left but few intimations and marks 
 of their existence and history. 
 
 (L.) 
 
 Ascent of Tabor — Fortifications on its summit — Historical references — 
 Death of Saul and Jonathan — Elegy of David — Remarks upon 
 David — The Transfiguration. 
 
 GALILEE, MOUNT TABOR, SECOND LETTER. 
 
 Soon after our arrival at the base of Mount Tabor, 
 we ascended to its top. Entirely separate from the 
 other mountains, which are seen at no great distance 
 around it, it arises out of the north-eastern part of 
 the great plain of Esdraelon, in graceful and solitary 
 beauty. Taking a circuitous route, which was ren- 
 dered necessary by the steepness of the mountain, we 
 were enabled to ascend the greater part of the -way 
 on horseback. There are a number of such winding 
 paths leading from the base to the summit. Select- 
 ing that which commenced at the village near us, we 
 followed the leadership of two Arab horsemen whom 
 we had taken as guides, and who seemed to find in 
 the roughness and steepness of the ascent, something 
 which harmonized with their own wild and unregu- 
 lated spirits. Although the narrow way which we 
 travelled was rocky and difficult, our small but well 
 trained horses had been so much accustomed to such 
 rough places, that the ascent was completed in a little 
 less than an hour. The sides of the mountain are 
 everywhere covered with trees and clumps of bushes . 
 
488 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 The oak tree is frequently met with. A tall, coarse 
 grass grows among the rocks. 
 
 The form of the mountain is that of a sugar-loaf or 
 of a truncated cone ; and standing apart from other 
 mountains, and being clothed with trees and herbage 
 to its top, it justifies, in its appearance, the celebrity 
 which it has long possessed. Its height has been esti- 
 mated at various times by travellers. It rises about 
 eighteen hundred feet above the Mediterranean, whose 
 waters can be seen from its top ; and a thousand feet 
 above the plain immediately below it. From the ir- 
 regular and rocky edge of its summit, we looked di- 
 rectly down upon our tents, which were pitched in a 
 grove of olives at its base. The mules and horses of 
 our little caravan were fastened under the trees. At 
 a little distance from the tents the ancient Arab vil- 
 lage of Deburieh, to which I have already alluded, 
 was also in sight. It is from the centre of this village 
 that the fresh and living spring of Ain-El-Sherar sends 
 out its contributions to fertilize the surrounding plain, 
 and to swell in the rainy season, the waters of the 
 Kishon. 
 
 The summit of Tabor is an oblong plain, nearly 
 level, not far from a mile in circuit, and covered with 
 tall grass, shrubs and trees. The remains of ancient 
 fortifications are found upon it, which appear to have 
 been originally of great strength. It appears from the 
 historical writings of Josephus, who held a military 
 command in Galilee, that fortifications were erected 
 upon this summit by his own orders, with a view to 
 resist the progress of the arms of Vespasian. It had 
 probably been held as a military position at an earlier 
 period. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 489 
 
 The prospect from the top of Mount Tabor can 
 hardly be exceeded in extent and beauty. The region 
 where the Saviour spent a large portion of his life, 
 was spread out in its length and breadth before us. 
 In the eastern direction, and at a few miles distance, 
 is the little Hermon ; and beyond it the celebrated 
 mountain range of Gilboa. The city of Nazareth, 
 not distinctly visible, on account of being shut in by 
 hills, is in the west, and only at the distance of six 
 miles. The sunken valley of the sea of Galilee, with 
 its hills and valleys around, is distinctly seen in the 
 the north-east. The vast plain of Esdraelon expanded 
 itself at our feet. Here is the city of Shunem. Here 
 are the sites of Megiddo, Jezreel and Taanach. Here 
 are the pathway and the waters of the Kishon. 
 
 The plain of Esdraelon, remarkable in its physical 
 features, has other claims upon the traveller's notice. 
 It possesses an historical celebrity which attaches to 
 few other places. In the year 1799, a fierce battle 
 was fought here between the French under the com- 
 mand of General Kleber, and a Syrian army much 
 larger in numbers. Kleber was relieved from his peril- 
 ous position, and the Turco- Syrian army was defeat- 
 ed, by the opportune arrival of Bonaparte, who thus 
 brought his name, which fills a large place in the san- 
 guinary and disastrous annals of men, into associa- 
 tion with the names and places of biblical history. 
 This plain, at an earlier period, was the scene of the 
 severe contest between Barak and Sisera, with which 
 the readers of the Bible are familiar. Barak seems to 
 have made his head-quarters near this mountain. The 
 expressions in the Scriptures are : — " Barak went down 
 
490 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 from Mount Tabor, and ten thousand men with him." 
 Sisera was defeated ; and the triumphal song of Debo- 
 rah and Barak, with its highly poetic allusions to 
 Taanach and Megiddo and " the ancient river of Ki- 
 shon," its eulogy of Jael, and its graphic description 
 of the mother of Sisera, celebrated a victory which 
 gave rest to the land for forty years. It was here that 
 the Jewish king Josiah was defeated and lost his life, 
 in a contest with Pharaoh Necho, king of Egypt. And 
 it was in a great battle with the Philistines, on the 
 plain of Esdraelon and at the foot of Gilboa, that 
 Saul and Jonathan were slain. 
 
 The story of the last battle and of the fall of Saul 
 and Jonathan has a peculiar and melanchoy interest. 
 I had always felt the affecting sadness of its incidents, 
 and my presence among the scenes where their death 
 occurred, renewed those early feelings. The monarch 
 of Israel, standing face to face with what he felt to be 
 the last and decisive hour of his destiny, experienced 
 in his want of faith, the loss and want of that moral 
 strength which was necessary for the encounter. And 
 what a want — what a loss was this ! Man is so con- 
 stituted that he must believe in something. Such is 
 the innate sense of his own weakness, when he is 
 placed in difficult and trying circumstances, that he 
 finds it a strong necessity of his nature, which com- 
 pels him to seek some support. And if he does not 
 trust in God, he will naturally and almost necessarily 
 look round for something else, Saul had ceased to 
 place confidence in the God of Abraham and Isaac, 
 and went to seek counsel of the Witch of Endor. 
 The scene of this remarkable and unbelieving visit 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 491 
 
 is all in sight. It was here, — over these plains and 
 around these mountains — that the humiliated mon- 
 arch, shrouded in the darkness of the night and in the 
 mists of the valley, found his way to her mysterious 
 dwelling. Strange was the vision that met him. The 
 earth opened, and an " old man came up." Terrible 
 was the denunciation which was uttered. 
 
 u Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye; 
 
 His hands were withered, and his veins were dry ; 
 
 His foot in bony whiteness, glittered there, 
 
 Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare. 
 
 Saul saw, and fell to earth as falls the oak, 
 
 At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke." 
 
 The poetry of the English bard has not exceeded 
 the simple, but sublime and terrific statement of the 
 Scriptures. 
 
 In deep astonishment and sorrow the Jewish king 
 arose from the ground, on which he had fallen pros- 
 trate. He went back to the foot of Gilboa, where his 
 soldiers awaited him. He again put on his armor ; 
 but military skill has no power against the decisions 
 of Providence. God had left him. His spear, without 
 a higher power to hold and direct it, was shivered in 
 his grasp. And in dying he left a melancholy name, 
 which has attracted the memory and the sympathies 
 of men, because it was associated with that of Jona- 
 than, and because it is celebrated in song. 
 
 As I stood upon the top of Tabor, and cast my eye 
 towards the region where Saul fought and fell, I felt 
 anew how genius consecrates place — how mind im- 
 mortalizes matter. I remembered the touching allu- 
 sion to Gilboa in the sad elegy of David. I have al- 
 ready had occasion to speak of this great king and 
 
492 LETTERS— .ESTHETIC, 
 
 poet. And here, also, amid the mingled scenery of 
 plains and mountains which he has celebrated in his 
 songs, he is once more brought to mind. In the over- 
 throw of the king who persecuted him and of the king's 
 son who loved him, unable to help, but with a heart 
 full of pity, he could only pour forth his lamentations 
 in such strains of tenderness and beauty as no other 
 one could utter. 
 
 A great poet is necessarily great in his character, 
 — and is great also, or is likely to be so, in the circum- 
 stances which surround him. David was a poet, be- 
 cause in his life and character he was himself a poem 
 i — a great dramatic and epic history, reaching from the 
 shepherd to the king, and filled up with thoughts, af- 
 fections and actions. And worthy to be celebrated 
 himself, he imparted immortality to others, because 
 his intercourse with God had opened in his own soul 
 the fresh springs of immortal life. 
 
 But if mind consecrates and immortalizes matter, 
 it is equally true that material nature, in connection 
 with the incidents of personal situation and relations, 
 give a character and development to mind. The fact 
 that the mind's inspiration, so far as it is really great 
 and true, is from God, is not at all inconsistent with 
 the additional and the obvious fact, that whatever is 
 special in the character and mode of its action, is from 
 the subordinate providence of situation and circum- 
 stances. This whole region seemed to me to claim 
 the great Jewish poet as a child even now. The mind 
 of David, as it is recorded and represented in the Bi- 
 ble, shows too distinctly to leave any doubt, in what 
 land and under what influences of religion and of his- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 493 
 
 tory it developed itself. If Homer, separated from his 
 own enchanted Greece, could not have been Homer, 
 but would have missed and lost the secret of his own 
 powers, amid the strange scenery and manners and the 
 barbarous language of the British Isles, or of other 
 rude and uncivilized places of his time, David could 
 not have been what he was in any other country, 
 among any other mountains, and under any other in- 
 stitutions and histories than those of Palestine. 
 
 This region is connected with another and far more 
 illustrious name than those which have been mention- 
 ed. It was the scene of the early life, and at a later 
 period, of many of the miracles of Christ. I can look 
 from this spot upon the village of Nain, on the west- 
 ern side of the little Hermon ; where he raised the 
 young man to life, the only son of his widowed 
 mother. Brought up in Nazareth, and possessing a 
 heart and eye open to the beauties of nature, it cannot 
 be supposed that he was ignorant of the varied and 
 beautiful scenery between Tabor, Nazareth and the 
 Sea of Galilee. In nature he saw and loved the God 
 of nature. It reminded him only of truth and beauty, 
 and not of sorrow and sin. He visited, no doubt, 
 these very heights. He looked down upon this great 
 plain. He beheld the rising and the setting sun here. 
 His locks were wet with these morning and evening 
 dews. To these interesting incidents, however, I may 
 perhaps take another opportunity to allude, and shall 
 leave them now. 
 
 Of one thing, however, I am obliged to speak here. 
 " And after six days," it is said in the Scripture nar- 
 rative, " Jesus taketh Peter and James, and John his 
 42 
 
494 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 brother, and bringeth them up into a high mountain 
 apart, and was transfigured before them. And his 
 face did shine as the sun, and his raiment was bright 
 as the light." According to a tradition reaching back 
 to the close of the third century or about that period, 
 this was the mountain on which Christ was thus trans- 
 figured. The mere fact of such a tradition has some 
 weight with me. As a general thing, traditions may- 
 well be supposed to have a basis in fact. The nature 
 and instincts of the human mind require this supposi- 
 tion. It is undoubtedly true that traditions may be 
 falsified like everything else. But if nothing specific 
 and reliable can be said against them, the presump- 
 tion, more or less, is in their favor. 
 
 One of the objections, perhaps the leading one, to 
 the tradition that Mount Tabor was the scene of the 
 Transfiguration, is the fact that its summit was at 
 that time a fortified place ; and that the presence of 
 soldiers was inconsistent with that seclusion and si- 
 lence which were appropriate to such an occurrence. 
 To estimate accurately such an objection, a person 
 must visit the mountain itself. It is probably true 
 that soldiers were stationed in the fortifications, the 
 remains of which still exist on the summit of the 
 mountain ; but it is not very likely, under the strict 
 requisitions of Roman discipline, that they were per- 
 mitted to roam about very freely over all parts of the 
 mountain. The base of the mountain is some six or 
 eight miles in circuit at least, and any one who has 
 been upon it must be satisfied, I think, that it would 
 have been easy, in the vast circuit of its sides which 
 fill up such an area, to find many places suited to 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 495 
 
 religious retirement. The transfiguration, witnessed 
 only by a small number of persons, would not require 
 a large place ; and of all the mountains in this region, 
 it will probably be conceded that there is no one which 
 harmonizes so well in its .attractive and imposing 
 character with the sublime and joyful nature of the 
 event. 
 
 In estimating this question, I think we should not 
 forget the mutual attractions of the mind and of out- 
 ward nature ; — attractions which have a permanent 
 foundation and are universal in their operation. Every 
 inward mood of the mind may be well supposed to 
 have its counterpart, its correspondence, in something 
 which is external ; and it is in connection with this 
 mutual adaptation that these attractions exist. Ac- 
 cordingly, the mind in its sorrow, seeks the, shade ; in 
 its joy it seeks the garden of flowers ; in its hour of 
 contemplation it wanders into the place of silence and 
 retirement; in its sociality it mingles with the com- 
 panies of men. When the Saviour was baptized, and 
 the Holy Ghost descended upon him and proclaimed 
 him the "beloved Son," he stood upon the banks of 
 the Jordan. The waters were an emblem of his puri- 
 ty. The balmy incense of trees floated around him, 
 and flowers bloomed at his feet. When he was in the 
 sorrow and darkness of his first great temptation, it 
 was not by the river's side, but in the wilderness. He 
 sought a place where desolation could harmonize with 
 grief. He climbed alone some rugged height — per- 
 haps the traditionary Quarantana — barren, dark, flow- 
 erless, where truth and beauty never come, and never 
 had a disposition to come, except in the hour of trial 
 
496 LETTERS JESTHETIC, 
 
 and of tears. When he was about to be transfigured 
 and to put on, though only for a short time and as it 
 were experimentally, the clothing of his celestial glory, 
 it was a natural instinct of his heart, a law of his in- 
 ward perfection, which led him to ascend a mountain 
 rather than go down into a valley, to go among flow- 
 ers and foliage rather than among desolate rocks, and 
 among all the mountains of his native Galilee to se- 
 lect that which stands apart from all others in its soli- 
 tary but unexampled beauty. 
 
 Such were some of the recollections and thoughts 
 which passed through my mind on Mount Tabor. 
 We descended to our tents just as the sun was shed- 
 ding his parting rays over the distant heights of Car- 
 mel. 
 
 (LI.) 
 
 Departure from Mount Tahor — Appearance of the country between Ta- 
 bor and Tiberias — First view of the lake — Valley and city of Ti- 
 berias — Jews — The Mishna — Emmaus — Turkish regiment — Beau- 
 ty of the lake — Country around it — Scriptural references — Poetry. 
 
 GALILEE, CITY OF TIBERIAS, MAY 28, 1853. 
 
 "We could have spent with much interest a longer 
 time at Mount Tabor and in its vicinity ; -but the in- 
 creasing heat and a desire to reach Beirout as early as 
 possible, did not permit us to delay. The remem- 
 brance of our own country, and the anticipated plea- 
 sure of once more meeting with our distant friends, 
 began to mingle with our thoughts. We left the 
 mountain on Friday, the 27th of May, early in the 
 morning, on our way to the Sea of Galilee ; — the sea, 
 or more properly the lake so often mentioned in the 
 
Social, and moral. 497 
 
 Scriptures, and associated with so many interesting 
 events. We wished to see its celebrated waters, and 
 to catch a view of the surrounding scenery, without 
 being able to allow to it much time. Our destina- 
 tion therefore, was Tiberias,— the principal town which 
 now remains upon its banks. As we left the moun- 
 tain, the beautiful hills of Nazareth, covered with 
 groves of small oaks, were in sight. 
 
 The road from Tabor to the Sea of Galilee runs in 
 a north-easterly direction, and the distance is not far 
 from twelve miles. It runs at first along the lower 
 side of the mountain, among cliffs and clusters of 
 trees , and when it reaches into a more level country, 
 it is frequently broken and irregular. It passes over 
 hills and rocky swells with names unknown to me, 
 and over the plain El-Hamma, which extends in the 
 direction of the Jordan. On our left and not far dis- 
 tant from our route, there is a valley of some extent, 
 which carries its waters westward into the Kishon. 
 It is supposed to be the valley of Jipthah, which is 
 repeatedly mentioned in the book of Joshua. Our 
 route, thus diversified with alternations of ascent and 
 descent, of plain and hill, presented continually some 
 new views* of nature — views, whatever may be their 
 characteristics — which are always interesting to those 
 who have seen the countries of the East for the first 
 time. Leaving a number of high hills on our left, 
 one of which was the hill or mount of Tell Hattin, 
 to which reference is often made by travellers, we ob- 
 tained our first distinct view both of the lake of Gali- 
 lee and of the city of Tiberias, from the brow of a 
 lofty and steep eminence, over which the road from 
 42* 
 
498 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 Mount Tabor approaches the lake and city from the 
 west. We were at that time, as I judged, about a 
 mile and a half distant from Tiberias. 
 
 The descent from the lofty hill which I have men- 
 tioned was over a long line of steep and irregular 
 rocks, so dangerous, as it seemed to me, that I chose 
 to walk a considerable part of the way rather than 
 ride. I had experienced on one occasion, by the fall 
 of my horse on a smooth and slippery ledge, that the 
 good training of the Syrian horses, and a sort of in- 
 stinctive foresight and carefulness which they mani- 
 fest, are not a perfect security against these dangers. 
 The view on the summit and side of this hill is ex- 
 ceedingly interesting. The eye first looks down upon 
 the lake of Galilee, or the sea of Galilee as it is call- 
 ed in the Scriptures, which is in view nearly in its 
 whole extent. It is not a large body of water, being 
 only sixteen miles in length by an average of four or 
 five in breadth. I now saw it, with the exception of 
 the partial glimpses from the top of Mount Tabor, for 
 the first time. The sun shone brightly ; there was 
 scarcely a breath of air stirring ; there was no cloud 
 upon the sky, and in the deep calm and silence of na- 
 ture, the lake lay in the arms of the steep mountains 
 around it, like an infant in the lap of its mother, and 
 with an aspect of tranquil and almost sad repose. — 
 But when the heavy winds and storms, which some- 
 times occur, break over the mountain tops and come 
 down upon its calm and sleeping surface, it is easy 
 to see that it might be suddenly and easily agita- 
 ted and thrown into the white dashing waves of the 
 tempest. Fleets have been built here, and naval 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 499 
 
 battles fought upon its surface ; — but that was in the 
 days of its ancient prosperity, and I saw only one 
 small boat upon it at this time. 
 
 The hills recede from the lake on the side of Tibe- 
 rias, leaving a pleasant plain or valley, though some- 
 what irregular in its surface, between the water and 
 the base of the surrounding heights. There was every 
 appearance to me that this undulating plain was once 
 a place of great fertility. The site of Tiberias, in the 
 centre of this once fruitful spot, was obviously well 
 chosen. The city, which is surrounded on the land 
 side by a strong wall a mile and a half in circuit, is 
 built upon the shore of the lake. It bears the marks 
 and characteristics of antiquity and orientalism, with- 
 out anything in particular which distinguishes it from 
 the old cities of the East. We noticed, however, on 
 the flat roofs of the houses, what we had not observ- 
 ed elsewhere, or but seldom, a sort of temporary tent, 
 erected of long reeds and branches of trees, which 
 seemed to be occupied chiefly as places of rest in the 
 warm nights of the summer. Though the country 
 around the city was once fruitful, it has now an aspect 
 of want and desolation. I missed much the fountains, 
 trees and gardens which sometimes imparted an air 
 of cheerfulness to other towns and cities. On the 
 south side and near the sea are the remains of an old 
 and strong fortification, which has been rent and sha- 
 ken to its foundations by the earthquakes which have 
 occurred here. 
 
 I will not undertake to say much in commendation 
 of Tiberias, although the general impression I receiv- 
 ed was more favorable than that which has been left 
 
500 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 upon the minds of some other travellers. It cannot 
 be denied that the aspect of an oriental city has not 
 much in its favor, in the eye of an European or an 
 American. There is not time to the passing traveller 
 for the re-adjustment of old habits and thoughts. He 
 is apt to forget that he is in another land and under a 
 different climate. And hence, in judging of the large 
 towns of the East, he is liable to make a very low es- 
 timate of them — not only of their material comforts, 
 but of their civilization and their social character. A 
 closer examination might give a more correct estimate. 
 Within the dark and mutilated walls of the houses 
 which line their narrow streets, there is probably more 
 intelligence, refinement and comfort, than would be at 
 first supposed. 
 
 There is a comfortable hotel within the limits of 
 Tiberias, kept by a Jew ; but thinking it better for us, 
 in the pleasant weather which we experienced, to re- 
 main in our tents, we pitched them outside of the 
 walls ; but we were permitted to enter and leave the 
 city whenever we chose. The place is not large ; the 
 number of inhabitants is said to be two thousand ; 
 but that probably, judging from what came under our 
 notice, is a low estimate. It has fallen into decay, but 
 there are still some signs of business. The situation 
 of the place is such, relatively to the other parts of 
 Galilee, that it cannot altogether lose its importance. 
 The river Jordan flows through the lake ; and Tiberi- 
 as is in a situation to command the region both of the 
 upper and lower Jordan. We found a regiment of 
 Turkish soldiers encamped here, a little to the south 
 of the city. This was said to be in consequence of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 501 
 
 some disturbance among the people on the opposite 
 side of the lake. 
 
 There are many Jews in the city. As I was walk- 
 ing along in one of the streets near the sea-shore, I 
 addressed a man for the purpose of making some in- 
 quiries, whom I found to be a Jew, and who appear- 
 ed to be a man of intelligence and culture. He was 
 acquainted with a number of languages, and had 
 some knowledge of th.e English, though he spoke it 
 imperfectly. He conducted me into the Jewish Quar- 
 ter, which is in the middle of the city, and into two 
 Jewish Synagogues, one of which had the appearance 
 of neatness and even elegance. He seemed willing 
 to converse, and I gathered from his conversation that 
 the strong prejudices which formerly existed among 
 his people against Christians, were disappearing to 
 some extent. 
 
 Tiberias is understood to be a favorite resort of 
 the Jews. They attach to it, as compared with many 
 other places in Galilee, a peculiar sanctity. It has 
 also some interest with scholars, on account of the 
 reputation it formerly enjoyed as one of the princi- 
 pal places of Jewish teaching and culture — a repu- 
 tation which it has retained to some extent even 
 to modern times. After the destruction of the city of 
 Jerusalem by the Romans, a number of eminent Jews 
 collected together at this city, and established a school 
 of learning. Some of the teachers in the school or 
 college which was thus founded, were men of high 
 reputation for knowledge. It was here that the Mish- 
 na was written — a work containing the traditionary 
 opinions of the J ews on matters of religious doctrine 
 and practice. It was written or rather compiled near 
 
502 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 the commencement of the third century, by a learned 
 Jew at the head of the school of Tiberias ; and con- 
 stitutes, with its continuation at a later period, under 
 the name of the Gemara, that celebrated Jerusalem 
 Talmud, which has had so great weight with the Jew- 
 ish people. 
 
 At the distance of a mile and a half from Tiberias, 
 and not far from the outlet of the Jordan, is Emma- 
 us — a place of some celebrity on account of its warm 
 mineral baths. The name of Emmaus, which is de- 
 scriptive in its meaning of the places to which it is 
 applied, is given to other places which have warm 
 mineral waters. The small stream which supplies the 
 baths here, issues from the base of the surrounding 
 hills. This place, which is mentioned by Josephus, 
 and has had a long celebrity, was visited by my Ameri- 
 can friends, from whom I learned the most that I know 
 of it. It was once a place of very considerable resort. 
 Buildings suitable for bathing are still erected upon it. 
 The water has been analyzed by chemists, but it is 
 not necessary to repeat the results here. My friends 
 found it of a very high temperature ; so much so as 
 almost to lead one to conjecture that it has a con- 
 nection with those subterranean fires which from time 
 to time rend and shake this volcanic region. 
 
 It was not convenient for me to go there, but this 
 circumstance gave me a little more time to stroll along 
 the lake shore. There was no want of objects, either 
 natural or artificial to take up my attention. It was 
 difficult for me to turn my eyes from this beautiful 
 sheet of water, with the dark mountains hanging over 
 it. I watched the ripples of the gentle waves as they 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 503 
 
 fell softly on the pebbly bank. The water is as clear 
 as a mountain brook. I gathered beautiful shells. I 
 saw flights of birds, such as usually make their haunts 
 near lakes and rivers. I stopped to watch the multi- 
 tudes of small fishes playing near the shore. The fish 
 in this lake are abundant. A person cannot walk on 
 its shores without seeing them in great numbers ; so 
 that it is not surprising that this place was formerly 
 the abode of fishermen, as it is now, though in a less 
 degree. 
 
 And then my attention was arrested by other ob- 
 jects. The drum beat here as I heard it in the des- 
 erts of Mount Sinai — a sound which has its stirring 
 but unpleasant associations. War is everywhere. — 
 My attention, therefore, was diverted from these ob- 
 jects of nature by the military manoeuvres of the 
 Turkish regiment already mentioned, which was sta- 
 tioned on the plain between the shore and the high 
 hills that bound it on the West. The soldiers went 
 through the formulary of military discipline ; and af- 
 terwards at sunset, I noticed that they repeated, under 
 orders and drawn up in line, the prostrations and pray- 
 ers of Mohammedan worship. And then I looked 
 from the floating crescent, the symbol of Mohamme- 
 dan power, to the mountains beyond. On the sides 
 of the surrounding heights which overlooked the en- 
 campment of the soldiers, are numerous excavations. 
 The hand of nature and of human art has been there. 
 "We had not the time at command which was neces- 
 sary to explore these dark excavations and to learn 
 their history, — but it is probable that some of them 
 are the ancient tombs which have been mentioned 
 
504 LETTERS' — ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 from time to time by travellers. Undoubtedly, this 
 remarkable valley and these rocky hills have been a 
 great burying-place. Millions of inhabitants have oc- 
 cupied these now desolate places. Time, which com- 
 pletes the destiny of nations, has swept them away, 
 and their record remains in part in the dust beneath 
 the traveller's feet. As I walked along the shore, I 
 noticed the remains of walls and columns which indi- 
 cate that the ancient city, built or at least enlarged in 
 honor of a Roman emperor, extended in the direction 
 of Emmaus and of the outlet of the Jordan. These 
 remains are sad but convincing evidences, which es- 
 tablish, beyond any reasonable question, the fact of 
 its original wealth, refinement and greatness. 
 
 Attempts have been made to compare the lake of 
 Galilee with other lakes. To me it seemed highly 
 beautiful ; but with such marked and distinctive char- 
 acteristics, that it would be difficult to bring it into 
 comparison. Beauty, however, is the result of two 
 forces or powers, — that which is found in the object, 
 and that which is found in the heart which interprets 
 the object. It thus has two eyes, if we may so ex- 
 press it, which look into each other and complete the 
 image of its contemplation by their combined action ; 
 but when the veil of some inward sorrow or perverse- 
 ness is upon the traveller's mind, one of the eyes of 
 beauty is put out, and only half of her glory is seen. 
 And thus there are differences of opinion, sometimes 
 as to the fact of beauty, and still more frequently as 
 to the degree. But however this may be, eminent 
 beauty has been here. No eye is so blind as not to 
 see it. And yet it is necessary to add, amid the heavy 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 505 
 
 blows of time, nature and providence, that it is beauty 
 in its widowhood — shining in tears. 
 
 I said it would be difficult to bring the lake of Gali- 
 lee into comparison with other lakes. I have not been 
 in Switzerland, but once in the interior of America — 
 in my own land — in the wild mountainous region of 
 New Hampshire — I saw a lake, of which I have been 
 reminded by that of Tiberias. It bears the name of 
 the Newfound Lake. As I was travelling, I came up- 
 on it unexpectedly. It is some eight or ten miles in 
 length. It is near the head waters of the beauti- 
 ful mountain stream which the primitive inhabitants 
 called the Pemigewasset. Like Galilee, it is without 
 islands or nearly so. It lay dark and motionless in 
 the bosom of barren and rocky heights, — and I was 
 much struck with its peculiar expression of thought- 
 ful and solitary beauty. 
 
 This lake and the country around it is the scene of 
 many interesting incidents mentioned in the New Tes- 
 tament. To the northwest on a lofty eminence, which 
 rises some twenty-five hundred feet above the Medi- 
 terranean, is the city of Safed, to which the Saviour 
 is supposed to have made allusion as the " city set 
 upon a hill, which could not be hid." At the head of 
 the lake, on the western and northwestern shore and 
 not far distant from each other, were once the ancient 
 cities of Bethsaida, Chorazin and Capernaum. The 
 site of Capernaum has been ascertained with a con- 
 siderable degree of probability by the learned Ameri- 
 can travellers, Smith and Robinson ; but the precise 
 locality of Chorazin and Bethsaida, though we have 
 reason to suppose it to have been on the same shore of 
 43 
 
506 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the lake and not far from Capernaum, is not definitely 
 known. 
 
 This lake was the scene of the miraculous draught 
 of fishes. The traditional place where it occurred is 
 still pointed out ; and at a little distance from the 
 shore, and in part in commemoration of this remarka- 
 ble event, a Catholic church is erected, called the 
 church of St. Peter. By some, however, this church 
 is said to be built over the site of the house of Peter 
 who resided here, — with the design to commemorate 
 the place of his residence. It was here, on this sea, 
 that the Saviour sat in a boat and taught the throng- 
 ing multitudes. It was here, among the fishermen 
 who pursued their humble and laborious calling on 
 these shores, that he selected a number of his disci- 
 ples. "And Jesus, walking by the Sea of Galilee, 
 saw two brethren, Simon called Peter, and Andrew 
 his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were 
 fishers. And he saith unto them — l Follow me, and 
 I will make you fishers of men.' " It was here that 
 he walked upon the waters. It was here, when there 
 was a great tempest and the ship was covered with 
 the waves, that " he arose and rebuked the winds and 
 the sea, and there was a great calm." And it was 
 probably upon one of the heights rising above these 
 waters, (an old tradition says upon Tell Hattin,) that 
 he uttered those remarkable sayings, — without pre- 
 cedent in the annals of mere human thought and 
 wisdom, — which constitute the Sermon on the Mount. 
 
 At evening I stood at the door of our tent. The 
 stars began to show themselves again. The lake was 
 at a little distance. I heard its gentle voice. Ex- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 507 
 
 cepting the sound of the waters, there was silence on 
 the plain and on the mountains. One feeling occu- 
 pied my heart One thought subordinated all others. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN AT THE LAKE OF GALILEE. 
 
 Strange is the deep, mysterious tie 
 Which makes departed ages nigh ; 
 But God has formed it ; and its power 
 Has marked with me this sacred hour. 
 'Twas thus, I thought, as thy bright sea. 
 Blue-tinted wave of Galilee ! 
 With gentle sound and motion sank 
 Upon the bold and rocky bank. 
 
 Oh, Lake and Land — where memories last — 
 Which link the present to the past ; 
 Whose waves and rocky heights restore 
 Departed scenes and forms once more ! 
 'Twas here He pressed the conscious earth ;— 
 'Twas here His heavenly thoughts had birih. 
 Oh give me back, if yet ye can, 
 This " Son of God," this " Son of man." 
 
 He comes ; — He walks upon the sea 5 — 
 " Have faith," He says, "and walk with me." 
 I go, — I sink, — He takes my hand ; 
 I, too, upon the waters stand 5 — 
 But soon from cliff and mountain side 
 The tempest sweeps the foaming tide ; 
 The lightnings flash ; — the billows rise ; — 
 Storms lift and dash them to the skies. 
 
 'Twas to the weak His hand He gave ; 
 And has He power the weak to save ? 
 Fierce and more fierce the billows roll, 
 But faith has anchored in the soul. 
 Amid the clouds I see His form j 
 I hear His voice amid the storm ; 
 The tempest listens to His will ; 
 The winds are hush'd : — the waves are still. 
 
508 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 (LII.) 
 
 Departure from Tiberias— Reach Cana of Galilee— Miracle of the water 
 and wine — Of other places, said to bear the name of Cana— Village 
 of Raneh— First sight of Nazareth— Its situation and appearance — 
 Mary's fountain— Franciscan convent— Residence of Joseph and 
 Mary— Joseph's workshop— Brow of the hill— Of Jesus Christ— His 
 personal appearance— Christ as a propitiatory sacrifice — Christ as 
 a moral teacher— Results of his teachings. 
 
 GALILEE, CITY OF NAZARETH, MAY 30, 1853. 
 
 We left Tiberias on our way to " Cana of Galilee " 
 and the city of Nazareth. Ascending the lofty hill to 
 the west of the city, we took a last view of the dis- 
 tant Safed, of the plain of Genessareth, of the deso- 
 late sites of Chorazin and Bethsaida, and of the lake 
 and its mountains. About noon we reached Cana — 
 known to the inhabitants at the present time under 
 the name of Kefr Cana. Passing through the village, 
 which covers a portion of a small hill, we stopped for 
 the purposes of rest and refreshment in a grove of 
 olive trees at a little distance. This grove is on the 
 side of the hill. A small brook, from which the vil- 
 lage is supplied with water, flowed at a short distance 
 below us. 
 
 It was at this village, if the common tradition is a 
 correct one, that the Saviour performed the miracle 
 of converting water into wine. And hence the brook 
 or fountain which I have mentioned is an object of 
 interest with travellers, as having furnished the water 
 which was thus miraculously changed. 
 
 The place of this remarkable miracle is called in 
 the Scriptures, " Cana of Galilee," in order to distin- 
 guish it from another Cana near the Mediterranean, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 509 
 
 and within the limits of the tribe of Asher. There 
 are other circumstances in addition to its name, which 
 aid in some degree in indicating its locality. When 
 the son of a certain nobleman at Capernaum was 
 healed, the Saviour was at this place. The nobleman 
 came to Cana, and desirous that Jesus should visit 
 his son at his own residence, he besought him that he 
 " would come down. 11 And again it is said of the no- 
 bleman in his return to Capernaum, " As he was now 
 going' doiun, his servants met him, and told him, say- 
 ing, thy son liveth." We found that these expressions 
 correspond well with the situation of Cana as com- 
 pared with that of Capernaum ; the site of the latter 
 place being, in its relative position, much lower. It 
 does not appear that there are many references to Ca- 
 na in early ecclesiastical writers. It is mentioned, 
 however, by St. Jerome in a letter to one of his friends 
 by the name of Marcella, as a place known in his time, 
 and as being " near to Nazareth ;" — expressions which 
 also harmonize well with the locality of this village. 
 
 And yet it is possible, I suppose, that Kefr Cana is 
 a comparatively new village, which has taken the 
 place and which bears the name of some older and 
 deserted village in the vicinity. Such, at least, is the 
 opinion of some persons. Mr. Thompson and myself 
 were taken by a guide whom we obtained at the vil- 
 lage, to a rocky hill, a mile and a half distant, where 
 the remains of an ancient village may be seen, which 
 the guide seems to have regarded as the original Ca- 
 na. There is another place to the north of this, which 
 bears the name of Cana. It is situated within the 
 limits of the large plain of Buttauf. This place is 
 43* 
 
510 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 some six or seven miles distant from Kefr Cana. On- 
 ly a few remains of buildings are now seen there. We 
 intended to have gone to this ancient and decayed 
 place, but our guide, professing to be ignorant of its 
 situation, and being quite unwilling to attempt to find 
 it, we gave up our purpose. The place last named 
 was visited by our learned countryman, Dr. Robin- 
 son, who gives reasons which are worthy of much 
 consideration, in favor of the supposition that the Cana 
 of Buttauf is the true Cana of the Gospels. 
 
 A few of these questions remain to be settled by 
 time and further inquiries. The resident people and 
 Christians in Palestine, who have the control of the 
 " sacred places," as they are called, seem to have de- 
 cided in favor of the Cana which is nearest to Naza- 
 reth. It was natural that we should take much inter- 
 est in this place, notwithstanding the doubts which at- 
 tach to it. We were shown, accordingly, into the 
 small but neat church, erected over the traditionary 
 place where the Saviour performed his first miracle. 
 Like the other churches of Palestine, both Greek and 
 Catholic, it is adorned with a number of paintings, 
 which, however, are of no especial merit. We saw 
 here also, in the interior of the building, and arrayed 
 in a row on the side of the wall, a number of large 
 water-jars made of stone and capable of holding from 
 ten to twelve gallons each. Of the history of these 
 jars, although they are regarded here as having some 
 connection with the miracle, we could obtain no in- 
 formation which would be entitled to reliance. Large 
 jars of this kind, some of them whole and others brok- 
 en, were seen by us in the fields of this village and in 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 511 
 
 the vicinity of its houses ; just as we had seen in other 
 places the scattered and broken fragments of columns. 
 
 Resuming our journey we went from Cana to Naza- 
 reth. Before reaching Nazareth, and at about two 
 miles distance, we passed a small, secluded village 
 on our right, — beautified by its fountain and trees. 
 There were many people at the fountain, watering 
 their flocks and camels. This is probably the place 
 which has sometimes been mentioned by travellers 
 under the name of Raneh. 
 
 We approached the city of Nazareth over the hill, 
 which lays to the south of it. It was from the sum- 
 mit of this hill that we obtained our first view. Im- 
 mediately below us was a basin or low sunken valley, 
 running in a northeast direction. It connects in that 
 direction with the great valley or plain of Esdraelon. 
 The eye could easily and accurately survey it for the 
 distance of more than a mile. On the eastern and 
 western sides were lofty hills, approaching each other 
 at the base, but gradually separating to the distance 
 of half a mile. The eastern hill is partially cultivated. 
 The city of Nazareth is directly opposite on the rocky 
 slope of the hill on the western side. The deep valley, 
 the precipitous rocks, the city, the hills, the lofty sy- 
 camores, the groves of olives, the green grassy spots 
 upon which the flocks of goats and sheep repose, 
 formed a wild but variegated and romantic picture 
 which is not often seen. 
 
 At the base of the southern hill and on the west- 
 ern side of the valley we pitched our tents under the 
 shade of some tall sycamore trees. A little below the 
 place of our tents there is a fountain, which flows 
 
512 LETTERS— .ESTHETIC, 
 
 through the valley towards the plain of Esdraelon. 
 Many persons, chiefly young women, were almost con- 
 stantly passing and repassing with water-jars on their 
 heads. The fountain is called Mary's fountain, in 
 memory of the mother of the Redeemer ; and it is 
 certainly a reasonable supposition, when we remem- 
 ber the customs of the country, that she often came 
 to its waters in company with the " child Jesus." The 
 fountain cannot have changed its position, and the 
 customs of the country are the same that existed at 
 that time. 
 
 The city, which is surrounded by walls, is at a little 
 distance, occupying in all probability the precise place 
 where it stood in the time of Christ. Bare, frowning 
 rocks tower above it. To the top of these rocks we 
 did not go ; but it is said that their summit, rising 
 some fifteen hundred feet above the sea, furnishes a 
 very extensive prospect, reaching from the Jordan on 
 the one side to the Mediterranean on the other. In 
 the depths of the valley below the city, which is water- 
 ed by the fountain of Mary, are gardens and groves 
 of olive and fig-trees. Such is the place where the 
 Saviour spent the greater part of his life. It is a 
 place which is almost entirely secluded from the world ; 
 and thus is peculiarly fitted for the growth of a pure 
 and contemplative mind. In natural beauty, howev- 
 er, notwithstanding its great seclusion, it is one of the 
 bright and lovely places of the earth. In historical 
 interest it is second only to Bethlehem and Jerusalem. 
 
 We reached this interesting place on the afternoon 
 of Saturday, and remained there over the Sabbath. — 
 Soon after our arrival I left our tent and went into 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 513 
 
 the city. In going through the streets I was cheered 
 by the open and friendly countenances of many of the 
 people, — all strangers to me, — and yet I could not feel 
 that the heart was entirely a stranger. The name of 
 Jesus, operating by the inspirations of confidence and 
 love, constitutes the world into a family. And little 
 does he know of the power of that wonderful name 
 who has not experienced in himself a growth and ex- 
 pansion of the affections, — such as can place the ties 
 of humanity and of a common salvation above the 
 differences of situation, history and language. Mo- 
 hammedans are found here ; but the large majority of 
 the inhabitants, estimated to be four thousand in num- 
 ber, are Christians, — chiefly Roman Catholics and 
 members of the Greek church, — together with some 
 Maronites. Differing from those whom I saw around 
 me in various incidents of situation and of religious 
 belief, it was natural notwithstanding, that I should 
 feel a new impulse of gratitude and love to God — a 
 new strength of the bonds of the common relation- 
 ship existing between man and man — when I met for 
 the first time with groups of men, women and chil- 
 dren within the circuit of the hills which constituted 
 the earthly home of our common Saviour. 
 
 One of the principal edifices of the present city is 
 the Franciscan or Latin convent, which is enclosed 
 with walls and is strongly built. It is on the eastern 
 or lower side of the city, as it slopes down from the 
 western hill, and not far from a steep descent into the 
 lowest part of the valley. Within the walls of the 
 convent is the church of the Annunciation, occupying 
 the traditional place where Joseph and Mary resided. 
 
514 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 On the Sabbath I went there at the hour of worship. 
 The interior of the church, which seemed to me a 
 well-built and in some respects a rich and costly edi- 
 fice, is adorned with paintings and hung with drapery. 
 Many people, decent in dress and quiet and serious 
 in appearance, were assembled. The place itself, in- 
 dependently of the utterance of religous truth and 
 of the methods of worship, could hardly fail to ex- 
 cite sentiments of religious recollection and homage. 
 There is truth, eloquence and inspiration in the sound 
 of the organ ; but it seemed to have a new power 
 of heavenly tenderness, as I heard it for the first 
 and last time over the rocky cavern which is supposed 
 to have formed a part of the home of the mother of 
 Jesus. 
 
 We were shown in another place, at a little dis- 
 tance from the convent, a -small chapel, which is said 
 to occupy the site of the workshop in which Joseph 
 pursued his trade as a carpenter. In another part of 
 the city and under the roof of a small chapel, we were 
 conducted to a large piece of rock, twelve feet long 
 by about nine in breadth, — which derives its interest 
 from the ancient tradition that it had been used by 
 our Saviour and his disciples as a table from which 
 they ate, both before and after his resurrection. 
 
 On one occasion when the Saviour was preaching 
 in the synagogue of Nazareth, the people were offend- 
 ed at the boldness and plainness of his instructions ; 
 and we are told by the evangelist Luke that they 
 u rose up and thrust him out of the city, and led him 
 unto the brow of the hill, whereon their city was built 
 that they might cast him down headlong." There are 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 515 
 
 a number of steep places in the vicinity of the city 
 which would answer to the terms of this statement. 
 The celebrated traveller, Dr. Clarke, who visited this 
 place a few years since, thinks that a precipice a little 
 beyond the limits of the city and above the Maronite 
 church, is probably the precise spot which is alluded 
 to in this passage. 
 
 Such are some of the objects, natural and histori- 
 cal, which interest the traveller's attention in Naza- 
 reth. But I stop here, after what we have thus seen, 
 both here and in other parts of Palestine, to meditate 
 a moment upon the character of that wonderful be- 
 ing, whose history is closely associated with these 
 places. We, who live in these later ages, have never 
 seen personally this great friend and teacher of our 
 race ; but I suppose I may be permitted to say in 
 common with many others, that long and grateful 
 meditations on his history have given an existence to 
 his image in the heart. He lives in the soul ; — always 
 in the consolations of his sustaining and sympathetic 
 presence ; and sometimes in the brightness of that 
 heavenly appearance, of that celestial personality, 
 which imagination loves to originate and to ascribe 
 to him. But perhaps, I may justly add, that these 
 scenes, where he grew up from childhood, and where 
 he toiled and suffered, have given him a greater dis- 
 tinctness in my thoughts ; — a greater nearness in my 
 affections. 
 
 In the passage in the Antiquities of Josephus, where 
 . -a reference is made to Christ, he is spoken of as a 
 man of wisdom, as a teacher, and as a doer of won- 
 derful works ; but no reference is made to his person- 
 
516 LETTERS — ESTHETIC, 
 
 al appearance. Nor is there any account of his per- 
 sonal appearance in the more authentic record of the 
 evangelists. There is a painted portrait, however, 
 which is very ancient, and which purports in the Latin 
 inscription which accompanies it, to be a true portrait 
 of the Saviour. This celebrated portrait, which was 
 brought to Palestine from Spain many ages since, 
 was formerly in possession of the Franciscan convent 
 of Nazareth, and still belongs to it. We made in- 
 quiries for it, but learned that it had been taken for 
 some temporary purpose to another convent. It would 
 be interesting to know more fully the history of this 
 portrait, which naturally attracts a considerable de- 
 gree of curiosity. 
 
 There is also a letter extant, purporting to have 
 been written during the life-time of Christ by Pub- 
 iius Lentulus to the Roman Senate, which gives a 
 description of Christ's person. He says, " there ap- 
 peared in these our days a man of great virtue, named 
 Jesus Christ, who is yet living among us ; — and of 
 the Gentiles is accepted as a prophet of the truth, but 
 his own disciples call him the Son of God." The 
 writer goes on to describe him, as curing all manner 
 of diseases and as raising the dead. He then farther 
 describes him as comely or well formed, and some- 
 what tall in stature; — with a serious expression of 
 countenance, but such as is calculated to excite love 
 as well as reverence. His hair, which is represented 
 as being divided or parted on the forehead, varied in 
 color, — being of the color of a ripe filbert on the head, 
 but where it flowed and curled over his shoulders, of 
 a bright or orient hue. He represents his forehead as 
 
 * 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 517 
 
 smooih and delicate ; — the face without spot or wrin- 
 kle, and expressive of innocence as well as of serious- 
 ness. He speaks of him as a man of great modesty 
 as well as wisdom of speech, — courteous in admonish- 
 ing, — solemn and impressive in reproof. 
 
 These and other things are said in this letter, which 
 is admitted to be ancient, although it is not received 
 by learned men and critics as having been written at 
 the time claimed for it, and by the person to whom it 
 is ascribed. But without being necessarily regarded 
 as genuine in the matter of its authorship, it is not 
 unreasonable to suppose that it may possibly embody 
 some of the traditional ideas of the Saviour's person- 
 al appearance, which were handed down undoubtedly 
 for many ages. Some of the great painters have been 
 aided in their attempts to represent the Saviour's ap- 
 pearance by the ideas embodied in it. 
 
 I have been at the place where he was born and 
 the place where he died ; — to the river where he was 
 baptized and the garden where he suffered his agony. 
 It has been my privilege to visit that " well of Jacob," 
 where he conversed with the woman of Samaria; and 
 in looking down upon the lake of Galilee, I may be 
 said almost literally to have seen the place of his foot- 
 steps on the sea. I am now in Nazareth. With deep 
 emotion I look upon the place where he grew up — a 
 child among children — the son of an humble and be- 
 lieving mother. It was here, on these hills and in this 
 deep and secluded valley — the playmate of the fountain 
 and the rocks — that he walked abroad in the evening 
 shade or in the early morning ray. It was here, in 
 the solitude of nature and in the divine stillness of 
 44 
 
518 LETTERS — AESTHETIC, 
 
 the soul, that he listened to the holy revelations of 
 truth and love. It was here that he "increased in 
 wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man." 
 His story is in the Bible. The scene of it is in these 
 regions, which we have thus been permitted to visit. 
 Whatever doubts may now rest upon his personal 
 appearance, none rests upon the great facts of his in- 
 carnation, his character, his labors, the scenes of his 
 residence, and his history. Unchanging nature stands 
 up in faithful confirmation of the historian's statement. 
 
 Jesus Christ came into the world a sacrifice for sin. 
 He died that the world might be restored from sin by 
 his sufferings and death, and once more brought into 
 harmony with God. From the moment that he as- 
 cended the altar of sacrifice and was fastened there — 
 an offering so pure, so exalted, that all men and holy 
 angels and all holy existences might see it — from that 
 hour of transcendent agony and of infinite victory — 
 all types and shadows and offerings and sacrifices fled 
 away. The cross on the rock of Calvary was the last 
 altar. Christ was the last victim. That great suffer- 
 ing reaches and heals all other suffering. Of its 
 mighty power ill purifying the soul from evil and in 
 giving hope in sorrow and despair, what place, what 
 country, what period of time has been ignorant ? 
 
 But Christ was a teacher also. From the begin- 
 ning of time the question has been asked by wise 
 men of different countries, — what is moral goodness, 
 — what is virtue? Plato, instructed by the example 
 of Socrates and by the priests of Egypt, and aided 
 still more by his own reflections, made some approach- 
 es to the true answer j but spake nevertheless obscure- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 519 
 
 ly and with hesitation. But Jesus Christ, the child 
 of the mountains of Judea, not educated in Grecian 
 and Roman schools, but taught inwardly by the Holy 
 Ghost, spake openly and clearly. He grasped the 
 truth without reasoning upon it ; — because the truth 
 harmonizing with purity, and fleeing from everything 
 which is impure, is the necessary development of 
 holy hearts ; and because it proclaims its nature and 
 its name where there are such hearts to receive and 
 appreciate it, in the very fact of its existence. By his 
 own nature, therefore, he was a prophet of the truth. 
 Being born of God and taught of God, he had the 
 truth in himself; it was incarnated in his heavenly 
 nature , — it lived in his life and spake in his voice j — 
 and he uttered it, therefore, not in the slow process 
 of syllogisms, but by the intuitive impulse and neces- 
 sities of inspiration. 
 
 If virtue may be described very properly as the 
 highest excellence of moral beings, there is one thing 
 according to the doctrines of Jesus Christ and only 
 one thing which can constitute it. He gave it a name 
 on the Galilean mountains ; and he illustrated its 
 reality on the bloody rock of Calvary. It is Love ; — 
 not merely of father and mother, of brother and sister ; 
 — not merely of those of our own name, language 
 and nation ; — but the love, pure by being unselfish, — 
 of all men, of all climes, countries and situations ; — 
 and not only of all men but of all existences which are 
 the appropriate objects of love; — a love which flows 
 from God in its source, is sustained by God in its 
 action, and attaches itself to everything of which God 
 is the author, and in which He takes an interest. 
 
520 LETTEKS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 Such love is Virtue ; — not merely the abstract con- 
 ception of virtue, but its living essence. Being a life, 
 it has life's mighty and living power. It unites God 
 with the creatures of God. It unites the creatures of 
 God with each other. It abolishes all exclusiveness 
 and all limitations, which are not founded in the high- 
 est wisdom and required by the highest good. And in 
 its mighty power and vast extent, passing as it does 
 from the centre to the limits of existence, it may be 
 said to harmonize infinity. 
 
 It was thus that the babe of Bethlehem, the child 
 of the hills and the fountain of Nazareth, without the 
 learning of those who professed to be philosophers, 
 and yet with a wisdom far above human wisdom, an- 
 ticipated and expounded the doctrines of Augustine 
 and Fenelon. 
 
 And yet it is worthy of notice, that he did not an- 
 nounce his doctrines, however novel and important 
 they might be, with any of the forms and affectations 
 of worldly ceremony. Brought up in the mountains, 
 and not in palaces, he was no son of the Caesars ; but 
 a plain humble man of the people. He spake " as 
 one having authority," and yet without the badges of 
 authority. He had no sword by his side, no diadem 
 on his head, and wore no floating and decorated robe 
 of office. The vaulted roof of his church was the 
 clear blue heavens above him. His rostrum was a 
 rock on the height of Tell Hattin, or a fisherman's 
 boat on the sea of Tiberias. His audience was the 
 universal heart of man embodied and represented in 
 the poor and suffering multitudes of men, women and 
 children around him. Humanity with him was some- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 521 
 
 thing which was far above the ordinary distinctions 
 which separate man from man. His insight into the 
 destinies of the future elevated the individual, and 
 gave a vastness to his character by means of the vast 
 sphere of development which expanded around him. 
 He saw in the small circle of man's present low es- 
 tate, an infinity of progress. He saw in the poorest, 
 the most ignorant man, — the man on whom power 
 sets its heavy foot and crushes him to the earth, — if 
 not the seeds and beginnings, at least the possibilities 
 of eternal truth, eternal good affection, and eternal 
 glory. And therefore his heart of love was filled with 
 the deepest sympathy — he recognized a bond of pity- 
 ing and sympathetic union between himself and the 
 greatest sinner, — and whatever he had to say, flowing 
 from the depths of eternal wisdom and goodness, was 
 said in the spirit of self-forge tfulness, — without the ar- 
 tifices of a false rhetoric, — truly, simply and feelingly. 
 But this is a subject on which more might be said, 
 and perhaps more appropriately on some other occa- 
 sion. I will only add a single remark. The truths 
 'of Christ, — I mean those which go most deeply into 
 man's nature and destiny, — are beginning to have an 
 effect which they have not had hitherto, because the 
 day appropriate to them had not yet come. They are 
 gradually, if not rapidly, altering the social and politi- 
 cal as well as the religious condition of things. Jesus 
 Christ, in the result of those great influences which 
 must necessarily originate from him, will be found at 
 last to be a king as well as priest. He came into the 
 world not only to save individuals, but to hold the 
 destiny and to be the Saviour of nations. And ac- 
 44* 
 
522 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 cordingly the secret but mighty virtue which is pro- 
 ceeding from the bleeding hands and side of this great 
 leader of the people, is breaking up old political sys- 
 tems which had extended their gigantic limbs over 
 the world, and which age had strengthened into ada- 
 mant. "What means, during the more recent periods 
 of human history, this falling of towers and bastilles, 
 unable to withstand the billows of the great masses 
 of the world's population which are rising up from 
 their depths and dashing against them ? And at the 
 present moment, states, kingdoms, dynasties, no lon- 
 ger secured by the principles of hereditary authority, 
 are rocking to and fro on their uneasy foundations. 
 The instinct of a great fear, which foresees the com- 
 ing of unknown confusions and overthrows, pervades 
 the thought and heart of millions. It is a fear of that 
 change, or rather of that destruction of everything 
 at variance with the best social and civil interests of 
 man, which is embodied in the doctrines of Christ and 
 which cannot fail to come in its time. 
 
 The first contest is between the past and the pre- 
 sent — between institutions and rights — between ty- 
 ranny and freedom. But freedom, — great and desira- 
 ble as it is, — is rather a condition than a principle ; — 
 is rather the capacity of life than life itself. And yet 
 it is only in the wide area, which the arm of civil liber- 
 ty shall open and consecrate, that truth will be able to 
 establish the great and final empire of Love. The 
 battle-axe of the wars of freedom, lifted perhaps in 
 the severe and forewarning spirit of John the Baptist, 
 and sometimes striking without fully knowing its own 
 object, is nevertheless hewing the way for Christ's en- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 523 
 
 trance. Its heavy sound reminds one of that voice 
 which was heard in the wilderness, " Prepare ye the 
 way of the Lord." 
 
 Everything indicates the voice and the stirrings of 
 a great preparation for the coming of Christ. And he 
 comes, — whoever and whatever may be his precursor, 
 — to substitute his own principles for those of a differ- 
 ent character, and to realize his own pure and pacific 
 conceptions. He comes, therefore, not with the sword, 
 but the olive-branch ; not to reign by violence, but by 
 the authority of wisdom and brotherly kindness ; — not 
 to found dynasties, but to purify, elevate and estab- 
 lish humanity. If old systems of law are abolished 
 and constitutions of government pass away, if the dis- 
 cordant Babel of grey-headed antiquity is shaken to 
 its foundations, the patriot of a single and exclusive 
 interest and a single people, who sees no universe be- 
 yond the metes and bounds of a factitious nationality, 
 will undoubtedly mourn ; but the patriot after Christ's 
 great model — the patriot of all interests and all na- 
 tions — will put on heart and hope, because he fore- 
 sees that the institutions of the past which have al- 
 ways had selfishness and blood at their foundations, 
 will be displaced and substituted by the great charter 
 and kingdom of the Sermon on the Mount. 
 
 And here in the solitary valley of Nazareth, where 
 the beauty and silence of nature come in aid of re- 
 flection and memory, it is not easy for the traveller to 
 forget that the mighty Law-giver, from whom these 
 things proceed, sat in his mother's arms beneath this 
 sun-light; was nurtured beneath these overhanging 
 rocks ; and spent the days of his childhood and youth 
 by the side of this murmuring fountain. 
 
524 LETTERS ^ESTHETIC, 
 
 (LIII.) 
 
 Departure from Nazareth — Mount Carmel — Arrival at Caipha — Ascent 
 of Carmel — View from its summit — Carmelite convent — River 
 Belus — St. John d'Acre — White Promontory — Phenician plain — 
 Ras El Ain — City of Tyre — Historical notices — Remarks — River 
 Leontes — Arabs. 
 
 SYRIA, BANKS OF THE LEONTES, JUNE 1, 1853. 
 
 We left Nazareth on the thirtieth of May, on our 
 way to Mount Carmel. In a short time, we came 
 again into the plain of Esdraelon. — We had not pro- 
 ceeded far when the lofty and beautiful ridge of Car- 
 mel came fully in sight. Descending into the long, 
 level plain, which terminates on the Mediterranean 
 at the bay of St John d' Acre, we came upon the track 
 of the river Kishon, which here collects its waters and 
 becomes a considerable stream. This stream flows 
 for some distance along the base of the mountain. 
 The ridge of Carmel, covered with its groves of small 
 oaks, rose above us on our left. 
 
 Carmel has its place in history and poetry. The 
 events of which it has been the scene, connect it with 
 history. Its numerous caverns, which is one of its 
 peculiarities, rendered it the abodes of men, whose 
 marked and towering characters necessarily made them 
 historical. — It was here that Elijah and Elisha, too 
 stern and uncompromising for the smooth and vicious 
 civilities of palaces, oftentimes made their residence. 
 It was at this mountain that the contest took place 
 between Elijah and the prophets of Baal; which may 
 well be regarded as one of the remarkable historical 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 525 
 
 incidents in the Scriptures. The graceful beauty of 
 Carmel, rising at times into magnificence, connects it 
 with poetry as well as history. Picturesque and often 
 grand in its appearance, it is a mountain which is fit- 
 ted to fill and delight a creative and imaginative eye. 
 And accordingly references, such as naturally suggest 
 themselves to a poetic mind, are made to it in the 
 prophets — Amos, Jeremiah and Isaiah, — and also in 
 the book of Canticles. In those better days, to which 
 the people of God look forward with such great inter- 
 est, the solitary place and the desert shall blossom 
 and rejoice, in the language of the prophet Isaiah, 
 " with the glory of Lebanon and with the excellency 
 of Carmel" 
 
 Originally it was very fertile and well cultivated. 
 I am not surprised that the ancients, struck with its 
 beauty and fertility, called it by the poetic name which 
 it bears, and which means the " vineyard or garden of 
 God." It has not wholly lost its ancient reputation. 
 Unlike the naked mountains in the neighborhood of 
 Jerusalem, it is covered with a variety of trees, such 
 as oaks, olives, pines and laurels. Odoriferous plants 
 and flowers are found upon it. Without laying claims 
 to its ancient fertility, it is still susceptible of cultiva- 
 tion in many places, and furnishes pasturage for cattle 
 on its sides and summit. Flocks of goats browse 
 among its cliffs. The long plains which stretch from 
 its base, are fertile now ; and formerly must have 
 been so in a remarkable degree. — -In the rainy season 
 numerous brooks rush down from its sides. These 
 brooks, sometimes collecting in large pools at the 
 base of the mountain, find their way into the Kishon. 
 
526 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Clusters of bushes and flowering plants grow on the 
 edge of their narrow channels. 
 
 Passing some six or eight miles along the base of 
 these celebrated heights, with but little to diversify 
 our journey except from time to time the sight of a 
 small Arab village or a herd of cattle tended by the 
 herdsmen on the reedy plain, we came at last to the 
 pleasant, maritime town of Caipha; — situated on a 
 small bay by the same name, forming a part of the 
 great bay of Acre. Without thinking it necessary to 
 delay at this town, we passed on through an extensive 
 grove of large and aged olive trees, which is a little 
 beyond it. From this grove, whose grateful shade 
 protected us for a time from the burning heat of the 
 sun, we ascended the mountain by a steep and difFcult 
 path to the portion of the lofty summit, which hangs 
 almost perpendicularly over the sea. As we looked 
 down, the sea was at least a thousand feet below us. 
 We stopped and gazed intently upon the wide and 
 magnificent prospect which was thus opened to our 
 view. Along the shores of the bay of Acre, which is 
 bounded on its southern side by the projecting heights 
 of Carmel, the billows, with their hoarse and unchang- 
 ing sound, fell heavily upon the sandy beach. The 
 town of Caipha, to which I have already referred, was 
 directly beneath us. The dark wreck of an English 
 vessel, at no great distance, lay fastened in the sands 
 and beaten by the waves. A few merchant vessels, 
 with their broad white sails, glittered upon the blue 
 and unruffled ocean. St. John d' Acre, the ancient 
 Ptolemais, was in sight, a few miles distant, on the 
 other side of the circuitous bay. And leaning upon 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 527 
 
 the vapory sky beyond the city, were dimly seen the 
 rough and misty heights of Lebanon and Anti-Leba- 
 non. 
 
 Upon the abrupt and lofty eminence which we had 
 thus reached, there is a Carmelite convent ; — a large 
 and convenient and even elegant building, erected and 
 sustained by the contributions of pious Catholics in 
 different countries. The material, of which it is com- 
 posed, is a light-colored sandstone. Lofty in its posi- 
 tion, and glittering in a bright Syrian sun, it made an 
 imposing appearance. It has been erected within a 
 few years, — and upon the site of an old one, which 
 once occupied its place. — This convent is understood 
 to be one of the richest in Palestine ; and everything 
 which we saw, tended to confirm its reputation in this 
 respect. It bears the appropriate name of the con- 
 vent of Elijah ; whose name and history are associa- 
 ted with Carmel as that of Moses is associated with 
 Sinai. We were very kindly received within its walls. 
 A monk, in the simple garb of a Carmelite, but with 
 no want of propriety or even refinement of manners, 
 
 showed us its various apartments and paintings. 
 
 The circular chapel of the convent, into which we 
 were conducted, is erected over a grotto, which reli- 
 gious tradition has consecrated as having once been 
 honored by the residence of Elijah. Near the close 
 of the day we came down from the mountain, and 
 pitched our tents and spent the night in the vicinity 
 of Caipha. 
 
 E»rly on the next morning, the 31st of May, we re- 
 newed our journey ; — passing along the bay of Acre 
 towards its northern extremity. Our path was upon 
 
528 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 the smooth sands of the beach. The waves dashed 
 at the feet of our horses. Their heavy, but regular 
 and not unmusical sound, is in strange contrast with 
 the silence of the desert. We crossed the river Ki- 
 shon near its entrance into the sea ; and were thus 
 reminded once more of the plain of Esdraelon and of 
 mount Tabor. At the distance of four or five miles 
 beyond the Kishon, we crossed the river Belus ; — a 
 small stream, and at this time easily fordable, but 
 which has some historical interest, in consequence of 
 being connected with the discovery of the method of 
 making glass. This river is supposed to derive its 
 name from Baal or Bel, the deity of the ancient Phe- 
 nicians. Leaving the city of St. John d'Acre on our 
 left, which we had not time to visit, we pitched our 
 tents at the close of our day's journey some eight or 
 ten miles beyond it, — on the shores of the Mediter- 
 ranean. 
 
 St. John d'Acre, situated near the northern extremity 
 of the large bay which bears the same name, is known 
 under the name of Accho in the book of Judges ; and 
 under that of Ptolemais in the book of Acts. The 
 latter name was given in honor of one of the Ptole- 
 mies. Its harbor is small, and unfavorably situated ; 
 but still it is a place of some commerce and much his- 
 torical interest. It was taken by the Saracens in the 
 year 636. In the year 1099, when Europe had be- 
 come aroused by the sense of impending dangers, it 
 was wrested from the Saracenic control by the efforts 
 of the crusaders ; but afterwards, in 1187, was retaken 
 by the Saracens under Saladin. It is connected, also, 
 with the strange and bloody wars of modern history. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 529 
 
 In the year 1799, it was successfully defended by Sir 
 Sidney Smith against the attacks of Bonaparte. It 
 would have been pleasing to have stopped at a place 
 which had become renowned by so many incidents ; — 
 but we were obliged to pass on. The vicinity of Acre, 
 however, reminds us that we are now entering upon 
 the small but celebrated territory of ancient Phenicia. 
 The sites of its great and ancient cities, Tyre and Si- 
 don, are not far distant. 
 
 At the close of this day we are seated in our tents 
 on the side of a gently rising hill. A small, uninter- 
 esting village is at a little distance. Clustering trees 
 wave above us. The sea breaks sadly and heavily 
 upon the long, sandy beach. 
 
 In the morning, June 1st, we resumed our march. 
 We soon began to ascend rocky heights, which pro- 
 ject from Anti-Lebanon, and look directly down upon 
 the Mediterranean. These heights are the Djebel 
 Nakhura. Then we came, in the course of a few 
 miles, to the celebrated place called the White Pro- 
 montory, — the Album Promontorium of the ancient 
 Romans. In order to furnish a passage here, a way 
 has been cufrwith great labor over the lofty limestone 
 rock, which overlooks perpendicularly the waves of 
 the ocean. Both the ascent and descent are aided by 
 these steps, which have given to the place the name 
 also of the " ladder of Tyre." Ascending this worn 
 out and broken ladder, which time and constant travel- 
 ling have altered very much from its primitive shape, 
 we reached the summit at the height of some five or 
 six hundred feet. The road goes upon the very edge 
 of this terrible precipice. We looked down upon the 
 45 
 
530 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 dashing waves. The sea-birds spread their wings and 
 screamed beneath us. A single vessel was in sight, 
 on what was once the great highway of commerce. 
 It was over this dizzy rock that Alexander led his for- 
 ces to the conquest of Tyre. 
 
 As we approached the middle of the day, we came 
 upon the celebrated Phenician plain, bounded on all 
 sides except the west by the rocky heights of Lebanon 
 and Anti-Lebanon ; — a region small in extent, but re- 
 nowned for its fertility, and rendered illustrious in 
 history by the wealth, arts and genius of its two great 
 cities — Tyre and Sidon. The Phenician plain is thir- 
 ty miles in length by an average of two or perhaps 
 two and a half in breadth ; if we reckon it in the usual 
 way as extending from the White Promontory on the 
 north of Tyre to the small river called the Nahr-El- 
 Auly, three miles south of Sidon. Before reaching 
 the city of Tyre, at the distance of two miles and a 
 half from it, we stopped at K/as-El-Ain or the Foun- 
 tain-head. At this remarkable place a subterranean 
 brook, collecting its supplies of water probably from 
 the base of the mountains not far distant, bursts out 
 from the earth. The clear, pure water gushes up with 
 much force ; and is first collected in a number of large 
 reservoirs composed of stones and gravel strongly 
 united with cement. The reservoirs, four in number 
 and varying from fifteen to twenty feet in height, are 
 so constructed, that we could easily ascend them, and 
 walk about on their broad, smooth tops. The water 
 is raised by means of these artificial works to a con- 
 siderable height; and anciently through well con- 
 structed aqueducts, the remains of which are still 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 531 
 
 seen, was conveyed in large quantities, both to the 
 city of Tyre and over the surrounding country. At 
 the present time a single mill is turned by the water 
 which flows from one of the reservoirs. The water, 
 which was once employed for purposes of irrigation 
 by means of aqueducts and for the supply of the city, 
 now flows off for the most part in a rapid brook to- 
 wards the sea. 
 
 Having spent a little time in examining these re- 
 markable remains, we advanced in sadness over the 
 beautiful plain, which was once covered with Tyrian 
 magnificence. We could not help seeing that God, 
 whose great artistic hand is everywhere building 
 homes of beauty out of fragmentary earth and stone, 
 had designed this spot between the mountains and 
 the sea, as the residence of a favored people and a 
 great city. 
 
 Tyre, like Damascus and Thebes, was one of the 
 primitive cities of the Avorld ; — one of the cradles of 
 wealth, knowledge and civilization. It is mentioned 
 as a strong city in the book of Joshua. It is again 
 mentioned in the time of Solomon. The minute de- 
 scription of the city in the prophet Ezekiel is particu- 
 larly worthy of notice. 
 
 The harbor of Tyre, which reminded me, on a minia- 
 ture scale, of that of Alexandria, was formed originally 
 by an island ; but was extended and completed by a 
 sea-wall of immense strength. The ancient city, 
 which is now all swept away by the destructive in- 
 fluences of war, barbarism and time, was built chiefly 
 upon the shore, and not upon the island. This old 
 and flourishing place, renowned for its commerce and 
 
532 LETTEKS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 arts, was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar, the Assyrian 
 king, — or at least that portion of it which was built 
 upon the main land, — 573 years before the time of 
 Christ. A little more than, two hundred years after, 
 the insular city, or that portion which was built upon 
 the neighboring island, was attacked and taken by 
 Alexander the Great, after a siege of eight months. 
 Making use of the materials of the first city, which 
 were scattered in fragments upon the shore, he 
 constructed a vast mole, two hundred feet in breadth, 
 which extended from the continent to the island. 
 The sands have drifted over this great work ; and 
 thus the ancient island, which is at the distance of a 
 half or three fourths of a mile from the shore, is con- 
 verted into a peninsula, upon which the modern 
 city of Tyre now stands. Treading literally in the 
 steps of the Macedonian conqueror, we passed slowly 
 over the isthmus, and went through and around the 
 city. There are still some remains of commerce here. 
 A few small vessels were in the harbor. The tide 
 had receded ; and the rocks were laid bare. Upon 
 these rocks the fisherman spreads his nets. All around 
 the city, — on the sandy shore and the sea-beaten rocks, 
 — were melancholy evidences of the wealth and gi- 
 gantic labors of other days ; — fragments of walls and 
 of numberless large and beautiful columns, which 
 seemed still to have a voice and to utter the story of 
 their greatness and their degradation. 
 
 On this spot, before the city of Alexandria had a 
 being, was the centre of ancient commerce. Tyre was 
 the London of ancient days. Situated at the head 
 of the great sea, midway between the old pillars of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 533 
 
 Hercules on the one hand and the Persian Gulf and 
 the Indian seas on the other, she held her commer- 
 cial dominion for nearly a thousand years. In these 
 streets walked the merchants of Egypt. The loaded 
 camels of Judea and Damascus kneeled at her gates. 
 On these waters rose the masts of Lebanon ; and the 
 sea foamed under the stroke of oars made from the 
 oaks of Bashan. The loud sound of her sailors' 
 voices echoed over the great sea-wall of her harbor, 
 as they came in from distant Spain and barbarous 
 Grecian isles. Arabia poured her spices and balm 
 and frankincense into her lap. The ivory and the 
 costly woods of the Persian gulf adorned her pala- 
 ces. The mother of arts, she clothed the world in 
 her linen and purple. The mother of knowledge, she 
 sent her Cadmus to teach mankind the mystery of 
 letters. States, cities, were born in her bosom. She 
 built Carthage, the powerful rival of Rome, from the 
 treasures of her wealth and "love. And the cities of 
 Cadiz in Spain and Utica in Africa were among her 
 children. But to-day how changed is all this ? 
 
 -With deep interest the traveller looks upon the re- 
 mains of this great but fallen city. He beholds it a 
 mighty and a memorable desolation. It was predict- 
 ed that it should be so. Speaking in the language 
 of the prophet Ezekiel, God is represented as addres- 
 sing Tyre in terms which indicate his displeasure. 
 " Behold I am against thee, Oh Tyrus, and will cause 
 many nations to come up against thee, as the sea 
 causeth his waves to come up. And they shall de- 
 stroy the walls of . Tyrus and break down her towers. 
 I will also scrape her dust from her, and make her 
 45* 
 
534 LETTERS ESTHETIC, 
 
 like the top of a rock. It shall be a place for the 
 spreading of nets in the midst of the sea." 
 
 It is thus, that nations and cities, one after another, 
 have perished and passed away. Since I left Europe, 
 — and Europe itself is only an exception in part, — I 
 have found only desolate cities and nations. It might 
 have been otherwise. At least it seems so to me. If 
 any nation had in the beginning adopted the princi- 
 ples of the Gospel, — the principles which are the op- 
 posite of selfishness, — which bless them that perse- 
 cute us and which do good without asking for reward, 
 — its principles would have conquered the destructive 
 tendencies of time ; and triumphing over death and 
 decay, would not have failed to establish an immor- 
 tality of beauty. Of this it is difficult for me to 
 doubt. 
 
 Principles are the life of action ; and if our princi- 
 ples are the old Tyrian principles of exclusive or sel- 
 fish possession, — everything for ourselves and nothing 
 or comparatively nothing, for others, — with that watch- 
 ful and contentious jealousy which always attends it ; 
 — in other words, if it be a principle or the shadow of 
 a principle differing from that which measures the 
 love of our neighbor by the love of ourselves ; it is 
 necessarily the principle of death ; — in the first place, 
 hostility and death to others, and in the end death to 
 those who adopt it. It is this, and this only, which 
 has spread desolation over the fairest portions of the 
 earth, which has substituted on the banks of the Nile 
 and the Euphrates the sandy plain and the barren 
 rock for the flower gardens of Eden ; — not antiquity, 
 but falsehood', — not time, which is only the measure- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 535 
 
 ment of bright, revolving suns, but the pride, luxury, 
 and enmity which have resulted from not walking in 
 God's glorious and everlasting truth. 
 
 And I ought to say something further. In going 
 from country to country, I have mourned not only for 
 man, but nature. Not only great cities, but the earth, 
 also, is desolate. What was more beautiful once than 
 the great Phenician plain ? But now, — like the cities 
 which once adorned its bosom, — how sad, how desert- 
 ed ! Nature, like nations, has gone to decay. She 
 mourns and weeps, like a sad mother. She is silent, 
 sorrowful and sometimes fretful. She puts on sack- 
 cloth, — she sits upon the rocks, — she throws mud into 
 her chrystal rivers, — she buries her flowers in the sand. 
 But it is not time which has made her desolate ; — it 
 is not the consciousness of guilt which has rent and 
 marred her veil of primitive beauty ; — the cause of 
 her sadness is in others more than in herself. She 
 lives like one in hopeless widowhood, and turns away 
 and hides herself, because man, her child, for whom 
 she built the earth's beautiful home, has ceased to love. 
 She laments the spirit of contention, which has lacera- 
 ted her heart in all ages. She mourns for the millions 
 of her children, scattered and bleeding on every shore. 
 
 And this is not mere imagination, — is not the play- 
 ful or unmeaning metaphor of poetry. Man and ma- 
 terial nature are parts of one great system, which are 
 designed to harmonize with each other, not merely on 
 the principle of adaptation, but on the principle of a 
 true but mysterious sympathy ; and accordingly there 
 is a truth and life in nature, resulting from its corres- 
 pondence with man. Does not the fibrous root of 
 
536 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 trees and plants, as if it were a thing of thought and 
 intelligence, seek the earth and water which are most 
 appropriate to it. Does not the plant itself, seeking 
 to realize the beauties and harmonies of growth, creep 
 along the ground with the same object; Does not 
 the flower turn towards the sun ? Everything shows 
 that nature has a true life, an instinctive but silent 
 intelligence, and also a triumphant beauty, which 
 crowns and perfects that life ; — though now, in conse- 
 quence of the crimes and sorrows which she witnesses, 
 she hides herself in her sad garments of barrenness 
 and mourning. The divine principle of sympathy has 
 been violated. She has been struck and wounded in 
 the heart. Such, and so wide-spread are the miseries 
 which flow from sin. 
 
 And this also may be reversed. A disappointed, 
 grieved and bleeding affection is not necessarily a 
 dead one. When man, from whose heart should flow 
 out fountains of love and whose face should beam 
 with a brightness clearer than the sun's, shall be what 
 he is yet destined to be, and what Christ's loving 
 power shall yet make him to be ; — then shall nature 
 restore itself from the silence and weakness of its 
 mighty sorrow ; — and everything, as if touched with 
 a divine consciousness, shall recognize man's presence; 
 — the leaves and branches shall strew his path and 
 twine themselves about him ; — the flowers shall cease 
 to weep and shall grow bright with smiles ; — the very 
 rocks shall utter a song of joy. 
 
 Snch are my meditations, as I sit thoughtfully at 
 sunset on the banks of the Leontes. To this place 
 have we come after leaving Tyre. We stay here to- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 537 
 
 night. I suppose it to be seven or eight miles dis- 
 tant from Tyre. I love to spend the night at the 
 foot of a mountain or on the bank of a river. I seek 
 some solitary place, where man and his crimes are un- 
 known. The silence sings. The stars dance upon 
 the mountain tops, or look up brightly and smilingly 
 from the water. How beautiful flows this murmur- 
 ing, rapid stream ! The golden sunset throws the 
 veil of its bright yellow over the blue waves. It is 
 comparatively tranquil now ; but in early spring it is 
 covered with foam, and is dangerous to travellers. 
 
 Rising in the neighborhood of the ancient city of 
 Baalbec, it sweeps down through the valley between 
 Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon. It waters the old, ro- 
 mantic gardens and rude terraces of Coele- Syria. It 
 is spanned by a well constructed bridge, near the 
 place of our encampment. A company of Arabs is 
 encamped near us. This is a remarkable people. I 
 love to gaze upon them. Their spears are long, — 
 their horses are beautiful, — they stand erect, and look 
 upon us, through their dark, burning eyes, with much 
 curiosity. But if I understand that dark look aright, 
 I must describe it as the curiosity of indifference. 
 
 Old historians speak of the Leontes. But rivers 
 never die. It flows now as it flowed a thousand years 
 ago ; — old in history, but young in its life of never 
 ceasing movement. At a little distance, on the side 
 of a hill overhanging it, are some rude habitations. — 
 Its steep banks are covered with reeds and flowers. — 
 The light of its flowers, like the light of its waters, is 
 bright in the radiance of the setting sun. 
 
538 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 (LIV.) 
 
 Ruins of Sarepta — Scriptural allusion to this city — Reach Sidon— Its 
 situation — Arrival at Beirout— American missionaries— Services 
 on the Sabbath — Rev. Mr. Whiting— Dr. Eli Smith— Influence of 
 Christian missions—Mount Lebanon— Its appearance — Its inhabi- 
 tants- -America —Thoughts on leaving Palestine— Poetry. 
 
 PASHALIC OF SYRIA, CITY OF BEIROUT, JUNE 8, 1853. 
 
 In going from the banks of the Leontes to the old 
 city of Sidon, June 2d, we passed over the site and 
 among the ruins of Sarepta. Our course was along 
 the shore of the Mediterranean, and over the plain 
 between the mountains and the sea. The site of Sa- 
 repta is near the sea on the old Phenician plain which 
 has already been mentioned, — eight or nine miles 
 north of the Leontes, and seven miles south of Sidon. 
 It was to the city of Sarepta, which is mentioned un- 
 der the name of Zarephath in the Old Testament, 
 that the prophet Elijah was at one time sent. Here 
 he dwelt with a poor widow, whose meal and oil he 
 miraculously supplied ; and whose dead son he restor- 
 ed to life. In the command which was given to Eli- 
 jah, and under which he acted, — of which we have the 
 account in the first book of Kings, — it was said to 
 him: "Arise, get thee to Zarephath, which belongeth 
 to Sidon, and dwell there." The Saviour in the Gos- 
 pel of Luke refers to the event mentioned in Kings j 
 and says of this prophet, that he went to a widow in 
 Sarepta, a city of Sidon. We passed directly over this 
 spot. There was not much remaining of the ancient 
 city, which, I ought to say, is to be distinguished from 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 539 
 
 the modern Sarepta, at a little distance to the east, on 
 the side of a hill. The site of the city is considered 
 as well ascertained, not only by the unanimous tradi- 
 tion which reaches back to an early period, but by the 
 fragmentary remains of streets and buildings which 
 still exist, and by the allusions and statements of his- 
 tory. It is true that the ruins which now remain are 
 comparatively few; but it is a matter of historical 
 record, that those which existed in the thirteenth cen- 
 tury were such as to indicate that it was once a place 
 of much wealth and splendor. 
 
 It must be admitted, however, that the interest 
 which attaches to Sarepta, consists chiefly in the fact, 
 that it was the residence of a poor woman, who had 
 faith in God, and who furnished a home to one of His 
 persecuted and exiled prophets. The Crusaders erect- 
 ed a chapel over the traditionary place of her resi- 
 dence ; but her true memorial is in the Bible. The 
 name of kings and conquerors is forgotten ; but the 
 memory of this poor woman, who in her poverty and 
 suffering never thought of fame, is protected by God's 
 providence, and is written in His imperishable records. 
 
 Our route was from the south to the north. On 
 our left was the sea. On our right were the moun- 
 tains. In some places the mountains came down near 
 to the sea ; leaving but a narrow space between them. 
 
 Following this route, we next came to the city of 
 Sidon. This city was the mother of Tyre ; as Tyre 
 was the mother of Carthage ; — and although the 
 daughter surpassed the mother's splendor, Sidon also 
 had its wealth, its commerce, and its name of renown. 
 The situation of Sidon is beautiful. And this I have 
 
540 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 had occasion to notice in relation to many of the old 
 celebrated places. I have seen and heard of no great 
 city of antiquity, which did not vindicate the wisdom 
 and the glowing heart of its founders, by its relations 
 not only to the useful, but the true, the expansive, 
 and the grand in nature. Sometimes they built upon 
 mountain tops that they might look upon the clear sky 
 above or upon the valleys beneath. Sometimes they 
 built upon the banks of great rivers, like the Nile and 
 the Euphrates ; — which, flowing on forever, and scat- 
 tering around them the seeds of fertility and beauty, 
 filled the heart with great and glowing sentiments. — 
 Sometimes they selected a spot in the midst of moun- 
 tain rocks, with heights on either side, — with a deep 
 valley between and a gentle brook flowing through 
 it, — and there, amid the silence of nature, which is 
 favorable to the activity of thought, made a new world 
 for themselves in palaces and statues carved from the 
 changeless stone. Sometimes they built upon the 
 ocean, — in sight of its immense expanse and in hear- 
 ing of its mighty voice ; but only where it had estab- 
 lished, if I may so express it, an aesthetic or spiritual 
 harmony with the shores, by moulding itself into 
 those forms of beauty which appeal both to the eye 
 and the heart. 
 
 Sidon is situated on a promontory running into the 
 sea, in a southwest direction. It is enclosed by a wall 
 on the land side. It was interesting to look upon this 
 old town, — almost as ancient as the foundations of 
 the world. The eye took in at a single glance the cir- 
 cuitous and beautiful harbor, which was once all that 
 could be desired, but has been much injured from 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 541 
 
 various causes. The rich environs of the city are oc- 
 cupied by numerous gardens, filled and blooming with 
 the various fruit-trees and flowers which are common 
 in this region. It has some remains of the skill and 
 labor of other ages. Our attention was attracted in 
 the distance to an old square tower, — forming a pic- 
 turesque object on the southern end of the promon- 
 tory. At what time and by whom it was first built, 
 is not certainly known. As we spent but a little time 
 in the city, I will not attempt to speak more particu- 
 larly of this or of other objects which claimed a slight 
 notice. All I can say is, that we came, saw, and left 
 it ;- — without time to make minute inquiries, and yet 
 with time enough to receive the general outlines of 
 its image upon the mind and heart. It has its con- 
 venient residences, — some of them built of stone and 
 beautiful, — its flourishing gardens, its mechanic occu- 
 pations and arts ; — and though it is no longer the pos- 
 sessor of its ancient wealth and commerce, it is com- 
 paratively flourishing. Such was the impression left 
 upon my mind, in one of those rapid judgments 
 which a person sometimes forms when merely passing 
 through a place. It seemed to me, that there are 
 some distinct evidences of that recovery of wealth 
 and strength which characterize Alexandria and Jaffa. 
 At Sidon is an American sub-consulate ; and the 
 Americans have a missionary establishment there ; — 
 a branch, I suppose, of the important mission, which 
 has its central operations at Beirout. 
 
 Sidon, as well as Tyre, is repeatedly mentioned in 
 the Bible. It is first mentioned in Genesis. In the 
 book of Joshua it is called "great Sidon." Referen- 
 46 
 
542 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 ces are made to it also in the books of Kings and 
 Chronicles, and in Ezra, Isaiah and Ezekiel. It is 
 repeatedly mentioned in Homer. In the earliest times 
 Sidon was one of the great centres of knowledge and 
 the arts. Before the injuries to its once convenient 
 and beautiful harbor, it was the sea-port to the great 
 inland city of Damascus, from which it is distant by 
 a journey of a little more than two days. The route 
 to Damascus leads in a north-east direction over Mt. 
 Lebanon ; and then passing through the intervening 
 valley of the Leontes, crosses the more distant heights 
 of Anti-Lebanon. The business intercourse of Sidon 
 with Damascus, the most of which is now transferred 
 to Beirout, increased its commerce. Its harbor was 
 once covered with sails. The vessel in which the 
 apostle Paul sailed from Palestine for Italy, touched 
 at Sidon. The Saviour himself visited this region. 
 He had been teaching in the region of Gennessareth, 
 which is not far distant ; and it is added by the Evan- 
 gelist, " Then Jesus departed thence, into the coasts 
 of Tyre and Sidon." It was here that he performed 
 the miracle upon the daughter of the Syro-Phenician 
 woman. 
 
 We encamped the night of this day, June 2d, a few 
 miles beyond Sidon. About the middle of the next 
 day, we reached Beirout, the ancient Berytus. Before 
 reaching the city, and at a few miles distance, we 
 passed the river called the Nahr-El-Tamour, — the 
 same with the ancient Tamyras. The stream is rapid ; 
 and when swollen by rains and melted snows, must 
 be difficult to pass. We noticed a little above where 
 we crossed it, the remains of a stone bridge which had 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 543 
 
 been swept away. Like the Leontes, its banks were 
 lined with oleanders. The near approach to Beirout 
 was through a long grove of pines, succeeded by cul- 
 tivated gardens. Numberless mulberry trees lined our 
 path. 
 
 At Beirout I felt quite at home. The hotel at which 
 I stayed, had every convenience. The presence of the 
 excellent American consul,* who had apartments in 
 the same hotel, gave a sort of reality to the idea of 
 national protection. At a little distance, the Ameri- 
 can flag floated over the consulate. The strong arm 
 of a great though distant nationality, which is rapidly 
 extending itself to every land and sea, placed itself 
 around me. 
 
 I had with the place also some pleasant personal 
 associations. This city had been the residence, a 
 number of years ago, of a former friend and fellow- 
 student, Rev. Mr. Bird, who labored here as a faithful 
 and successful missionary. I was reminded of him 
 not only by the circumstance of his having resided 
 here ; but by an incident which recalled the memory 
 of his self-denying labors. Passing one day a book- 
 store, I went in. The books were chiefly of a reli- 
 gious character. This led to some conversation with 
 the bookseller, who could speak English, and to whom 
 I found that no subject was dearer than that of re- 
 ligious truth and experience. In the great truths of 
 the Bible and the great facts of religious experience, 
 we found a common ground to stand upon, broader 
 than that of sect or nationality. He told me that it 
 was Mr. Bird, who many years ago directed his atten- 
 tion to these interesting topics, and who was the in- 
 
 * J. JHorsford Smith, Esq. 
 
544 LETTEKS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 strument under God of leading him to the study of 
 religious truth, and to inward liberty and life. 
 
 On the Sabbath after our arrival, I went to the re- 
 ligious service in the American missionary chapel. 
 The sermon, imbued with a pure and deep religious 
 spirit, was preached by Rev. Mr. Whiting, whose long 
 and arduous labors as a missionary are well known in 
 America. The sermon was in that plain, simple lan- 
 guage which befits great subjects; — full of well di- 
 gested thought, and practical and serious in its appli- 
 cation. Christ was its theme. Redemption was its 
 object. And it was pleasant to an American, from a 
 land unknown when these great announcements were 
 first made, to hear such a theme dwelt upon and such 
 an object held up with sincerity and zeal on the shore 
 of the Mediterranean and under the shadow of Leba- 
 non. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day I heard another 
 member of the same missionary establishment, the 
 learned and justly celebrated Dr. Eli Smith, preach 
 to a congregation in the Arabic language. I cannot 
 be supposed to have understood the sermon ; but the 
 circumstances were such, — the time, the place, the 
 man, the audience, the language, — that I felt its power 
 in the heart, without the aid of any pentecostal mira- 
 cle to interpret the unknown words in which it was 
 uttered. Mr. Smith had the kindness during my stay 
 at Beirout, to take me over the large printing estab- 
 lishment under the direction of the missionaries. The 
 labors of this learned and devoted missionary are not 
 limited to preaching. He has aided the great object to 
 which he has devoted himself, by the religious works 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 545 
 
 which he has written in* Arabic, or has translated into 
 that language. His geographical labors, the results 
 of which are incorporated into the great work of Dr. 
 Robinson, have given him a claim to the respect of 
 scholars as well as of Christians. He appears to have 
 a critical and entire mastery of the Arabic language. 
 And it would not be hazardous to predict, that his 
 translation of the Bible into the Arabic, — a work 
 which is already considerably advanced, — will in- 
 crease the favorable opinion which already exists, of 
 his learning, untiring industry, and usefulness. 
 
 I should do injustice to my feelings, if I did not 
 here express my opinion of the favorable influence of 
 the various Christian missions which are now estab- 
 lished in many parts of the world. If I may be per- 
 mitted to judge, not only from what I have learned 
 from others but from what I have myself seen, the 
 real impression which the sincere and laborious men 
 of these missions have made, is much'greater than is 
 apparent to the public eye. From their gentle voice, 
 uttered in conversation, in the pulpit, and in the silent 
 announcement of the circulated tract, has gone forth, 
 into the heart of thousands and millions, the thought 
 and the hope of a higher and truer life. The years, 
 which have been spent in missionary labor, have not 
 been lost time. Those who have died far away from 
 their native home, — the good and the beautiful, the 
 men and women of the Christian faith, — have not 
 died in vain. The seed which has been sown on 
 many a barbarous shore, in tears always and some- 
 times in blood, — though it has sometimes lain long 
 buried in the dust, — is springing up at last in the 
 46* 
 
546 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 blade and flower of a freer thought, a liberated hope, 
 a more generous confidence, and a looking on every 
 side and, often with an intensity of desire, for the 
 coming of that kingdom of Christ, without sword or 
 floating warlike banner, which shall bring with it not 
 only individual restoration, but universal harmony 
 and peace. 
 
 My health did not allow me to go into the moun- 
 tains while at Beirout. I could only gaze upon them, 
 as they arose in majesty around the city. The great 
 range of Lebanon, with its irregular and rocky surface, 
 comes down upon the sea, — on the north side of the 
 harbor ; — Lebanon, renowned of old, which has its in- 
 terest for the geologist and naturalist, and which, by 
 its rude grandeur, is the delight of poetry. Unchang- 
 ing in its position and features, it is also a living and 
 eloquent protest against Scriptural infidelity. Al- 
 though the mountain has a desolate appearance, the 
 small patches of earth in its ravines and valleys, wa- 
 tered by the rills and brooks that find their way among 
 the rocks, are everywhere cultivated. Scattered among 
 the mountains are many small villages ; and the gen- 
 eral appearance of wild and rocky barrenness is re- 
 lieved at times by clusters of mulberries, and of fig 
 and olive trees. 
 
 The mountains of Lebanon consist of two great 
 ranges, running nearly north and south, extending 
 the distance of a hundred miles from the neighbor- 
 hood of Tyre on the south, to the bay of Tripoli on 
 the north ; — parallel with the Mediterranean and paral- 
 lel with each other ; — with the valley of Coele- Syria 
 and the Leontes between them. The western range, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 547 
 
 fronting and overlooking the Mediterranean, is called 
 Lebanon. The eastern range, including within its 
 limits the snowy peak of the Great Hermon, which is 
 said to be ten thousand feet in height, and overlook- 
 ing a considerable portion of Palestine, is called Anti- 
 Lebanon. The rock of these mountains is a whitish 
 limestone ; and it is either the white appearance aris- 
 ing from this cause or from the snows which gather 
 upon the high peaks, which has given them their name. 
 Lebanon is a word of Hebrew origin, and means the 
 "White Mountain. 
 
 These mountains, which have now in a great de- 
 gree a naked and barren appearance, were once cov- 
 ered with forests. Frequent references are made in 
 the Scriptures to the fountains, forests and snows of 
 Lebanon. In these celebrated mountains were found 
 the masts for the Sidonian and Tyrian navies. Here 
 were the cedars, wilich were wrought into the temple 
 of Solomon. In a distant and secluded part of the 
 mountains a few cedars yet remain. The memorial 
 of past ages, they still spread their aged arms upon 
 the winds. Travellers of great enthusiasm, who have 
 the requisite time, make it a point to climb over the 
 rugged rocks and visit them ; though they are few in 
 number and are marred and changed by time. 
 
 The inhabitants of the region of Lebanon are ob- 
 jects of much interest. In tfiese mountains, which I 
 here look upon for the first and last time, as they thus 
 overhang the eity of Beirout and the great sea which 
 washes their base, is the home of the Druses. In these 
 heights of Lebanon, like the Savoyards and the Wal- 
 denses in the fastnesses of the Alps, dwell also the 
 
548 LETTERS iESTHETIC, 
 
 remains of a Christian people, called the Maronites. 
 The Maronites accept the Bible as the source of their 
 religious ideas, and are properly called Christians. 
 The Druses are a peculiar people; — adopting Chris- 
 tian ideas and thoughts in part, but mingling and de- 
 basing them with a semi-paganism. In the heights 
 of Lebanon are Christian missionaries from America, 
 laboring diligently and successfully, and carrying back 
 the blessings of Christianity to the lands from whence 
 it came. 
 
 I stop my pen here, so far as the objects around 
 me are concerned, in order that I may indulge in 
 a few thoughts which naturally arise. It is from 
 this place that I begin my return home. I hear the 
 ocean's sound. I look out upon its vast waves, — so 
 vast that they bind together distant continents, — and 
 my heart sighs once more for my native land. It is 
 an hour of thought and solitary meditation. Every 
 man has his history. I have mine. My feet are walk- 
 ing under the mighty shadow of Lebanon. My heart 
 reposes in the mountains of America. It is a season 
 of deep and joyful anticipation. It is a season also 
 of gratitude. God has permitted me to see what I 
 had desired ; but which I had hardly hoped to see. 
 I shut my eyes to the future, that I may indulge 
 a moment in memory, and fill my heart with thank-, 
 fulness. 
 
 Once more I went back in memory to the sacred 
 scenes which I was about to leave. I recalled 
 my wanderings in the various parts of Palestine. I 
 thought again, as one thinks of an absent friend, of 
 the sea of Galilee, of the Jordan, and the Mount of 
 
SOCIAL,- AND MORAL. 549 
 
 Olives. I called to mind the beautiful and varied 
 scenery of Bethlehem, the valleys of Hebron, the hills 
 of Nazareth, and the mountains "round about Jeru- 
 salem." I repeated, both in memory and in the deep 
 consciousness of inward experience, those seasons of 
 sweet and heavenly communion, where I may be said 
 to have walked and conversed with him who bears 
 the title of the " Son of Man," on those hills and 
 mountains which were now fading from my view. 
 But the humble and believing Christian will under- 
 stand what I mean when I say, that I did not leave 
 him behind. I found him there; but he does not and 
 cannot cease to be present with the heart that receives 
 him as the " Truth and the Life." In the deep con- 
 viction of his faithfulness I claimed and possessed, 
 in thoughts and feelings which struggled for utterance, 
 the consolations of his presence. 
 
 0h ; Saviour ! Thus I leave the land 
 
 Which thou hast loved and looked upon ; 
 No more upon the hills to stand, 
 
 Where thou hast stood in ages gone. 
 And yet the breeze, the sail that tills, 
 
 Is whispering to my pensive mind, 
 That, thus in leaving Judah's hills, 
 
 I do not leave her King behind. 
 
 The faithful soul shall know it true, 
 
 That every land and clime is thine ; 
 That He, who trod in Hermon's dew, 
 
 Finds everywhere his Palestine. 
 I go ; — but cannot go from Thee. 
 
 I tread once more the ocean's tide ; 
 But He, who walked on Judah's sea, 
 
 Will not be absent from my side. 
 
550 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 (LV.) 
 
 Departure from Bei root — City of Caesarea—Stop at Jaffa — Reach Alex- 
 andria — Companions in quarantine—Sisters of Charity — Malta — 
 
 Coast of Africa — Carthage Straits of Gibraltar — Arrival at 
 
 Liverpool — Departure in the Arctic for New York. 
 
 CITY OF NEW YORK, AUG. 1, 1853. 
 
 On Thursday, the ninth of June, I left Beirout on 
 my return home. It was a long journey of six thou- 
 sand miles ; but faith and joyful anticipation had an 
 influence in shortening the aspect of the distance. 
 There were many vessels in the bay ; — the larger ones 
 at some distance from the shore. They were of dif- 
 ferent nations, — Austrian, English, French and Sar- 
 dinian. I saw no American flag. It is but recently 
 that American vessels have traded here. Among the 
 vessels was the French steamer, the Tancrede. She 
 floated proudly among the smaller ones around her. 
 As she was to sail immediately for Alexandria, I took 
 passage in her. 
 
 At Beirout I parted with the much valued and be- 
 loved companions, with whom I had travelled from 
 England. Mr. Thompson went to Damascus ; Mr. 
 and Mrs. Walcott to Constantinople. I went to the 
 Tancrede alone ; and there was no one on board with 
 whom I was acquainted. There were passengers from 
 different nations ; but there was no one from England 
 or America, with whom I could recall or establish 
 some community of thought and feeling. As our cap- 
 tain gave the signal for departure, I looked once more 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 551 
 
 upon the city. It rose gracefully from the shores ; its 
 ranges of light-colored stone houses ascending one 
 above another, interspersed beyond the walls with its 
 flowering gardens and with its groves of orange trees 
 and mulberries. I saw the mountains of Lebanon 
 for the last time. 
 
 The sun was setting when the steamer left the har- 
 bor. In the evening I walked the deck. The sails 
 were set. The stars shone brightly. Around us was 
 the great desert of the waters. With the stars and 
 the wide heavens above, and the vast trackless ocean 
 beneath, and with no one with whom I could converse, 
 I felt much as in the deserts of Sinai. My heart was 
 in solitude ; but in that great and glorious solitude 
 which disrobes itself of false and earthly influences 
 and leaves it with truth, with contemplation, and 
 with God. 
 
 The next day we passed the site of the ancient 
 city of Csesarea ; — the work of Herod the great, once 
 so celebrated for its artificial harbor, and which has a 
 connection with the events mentioned in the New 
 Testament. This city was about fifty miles distant 
 from Jerusalem, and thirty-five miles from Joppa, in a 
 north direction from the latter city. St. Paul was 
 kept a prisoner in Csesarea for the space of two years. 
 It was in Caesarea that the Apostle made his eloquent 
 plea before Felix ; and also his speech before Festus 
 and king Agrippa. Cornelius, the praying and alms- 
 giving Centurion, who was converted to Christianity, 
 resided here. This also was one of the remarkable 
 scenes of the labors of the Apostle Peter. 
 
 Near the close of the day the steamer stopped at 
 
552 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Jaffa, the Joppa of the Scriptures ; — of which I have 
 given some account in a former letter. We anchored 
 in the open ocean. Boats from the city soon came 
 out. I took a boat and went on shore ; — the boat- 
 men, for the purpose of saving a little in the distance, 
 carrying the boat through a narrow pass in the boil- 
 ing and dangerous reef of rocks, which encloses the 
 old harbor. I saw once more the excellent American 
 consul, who is a resident of this place, and is one of 
 the reformed Armenians, who are awakening thought 
 and spreading truth in these regions. I was enabled 
 also to make some further and very satisfactory in- 
 quiries in relation to the little company of Americans, 
 to whom I have formerly referred, who are settled in 
 the vicinity of Jaffa, with a view to the instruction 
 and benefit of the Jews. The labors of this small bat 
 devoted band, who pursue their work of benevolence 
 on principles somewhat peculiar to themselves, are 
 known to the Christian community. 
 
 In the course of a few hours we proceeded again 
 on our voyage. This is the third French vessel in 
 which I have sailed since I left America ; and it is 
 with pleasure that I bear a favorable testimony in 
 each case to the good order and conduct of the crew, 
 and the kindness which I personally experienced. In 
 our voyage from Beirout to Alexandria, the weather 
 was favorable, and nothing of special interest occurred. 
 I had access to books, which were placed at my dispo- 
 sal by a French gentleman on board. The crew, with 
 that vivacity and easiness to be amused, which are 
 characteristic of Frenchmen, contrived to occupy a 
 portion of their time with the feats of a young bear 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 553 
 
 which had been recently caught and taken on board 
 from the Lebanon mountains. The bear had made 
 a rather intimate acquaintance with a cat ; and once 
 a day and sometimes oftener they were let loose upon 
 deck, and by an amicable contest of attack and flight, 
 of pursuit and vigilant retreat, in which the cat's ac- 
 tivity had on the whole quite an advantage over the 
 violent but clumsy movements of the bear, they be- 
 guiled many hours of the thoughtless sailors. 
 
 Our next stopping-place was the city of Alexan- 
 dria ; where we arrived early on the morning of the 
 twelfth of June. Slowly the vessel made its way 
 through the narrow, winding entrance into the mag- 
 nificent harbor. It was at Alexandria that we com- 
 menced our journey up the Nile and for the deserts 
 of Sinai. I have said in a former letter what I had to 
 Bay of that city. We had now, however, a new form 
 of experience. Coming from Syria, we were obliged 
 to pass a number of days in quarantine. A state of 
 quarantine, though adverse to action, is generally not 
 Unfavorable to silence and reflection. But this is not 
 always the case. In the room assigned me I had the 
 company of a travelling merchant from South Ameri- 
 ca, and a monk from Palestine of the Franciscan or- 
 der. The merchant was from Colombia. He was a 
 well disposed man ; a man of information ; and made 
 himself entirely agreeable. The monk was originally 
 from France ; — from some small town on the banks 
 of the beautiful Rhone. He had been residing many 
 years in Palestine, and was returning to the place 
 of his residence in early life. He had with him a 
 Bible in the Latin vulgate translation, which he read 
 47 
 
554 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 almost constantly. It was pleasant to converse with 
 him. He manifested no asperity or indifference to- 
 wards those who differed from him in opinions. He 
 was an old man, very gentle in his manners ; — had 
 seen much of men and things ; and I was favorably 
 impressed with his appearance. 
 
 At Alexandria I left the French steamer, which re- 
 turned in a few days to Beirout, on its way to Smyr- 
 na and Constantinople. Abandoning the plan which 
 I had formed of again visiting France, I engaged a 
 passage for Liverpool by the way of Malta, in an 
 English screw-steamer, the Glasgow. This vessel was 
 delayed a few days after the expiration of our quaran- 
 tine, which enabled me to revisit some of the objects 
 and places in the city, to which I have formerly re- 
 ferred. I found that even the lapse of a few months 
 had made changes in its appearance. Additional 
 buildings were in the rapid course of erection. The 
 beautiful English church, which adorns the great Eu- 
 ropean Square, was far advanced towards its comple- 
 tion ; and I saw many signs of growth and prosperity, 
 which led to the opinion that Alexandria might yet 
 recover, by means of its great advantages of position, 
 and under the influence of renovated rights and institu- 
 tions, something of its ancient wealth and importance. 
 
 In the city of Alexandria are collected together 
 many who have fled from the political convulsions 
 and revolutions of Europe. In banishment, poverty, 
 and sorrow, they often sink into the grave, leaving 
 behind them orphan children, who need a degree of 
 sympathy and care, which could hardly be expected 
 in a foreign country and under great differences of 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 555 
 
 religion. But I found on this renewed visit, that the 
 " Sisters of Charity," an organized and permanent 
 community of Catholics, who devote themselves to 
 works of benevolence, had established themselves 
 here ; and had become the adoptive mothers of many 
 of these orphans. 
 
 It was with pleasure that I visited their large Or- 
 phan Asylum. No letters of introduction were ne- 
 cessary in order to gain admission. Giving a signal 
 at the gate which was at once opened, I entered one 
 of the. apartments which was both parlor and library, 
 and was soon introduced to one of the members of 
 the establishment, a native of Ireland. She exhibited 
 a calm propriety and dignity of manner, which in- 
 dicated intellectual and social culture, as well as 
 the quiet and self-controlling influences of religion. 
 When I told her that I was from America, she showed 
 an increased interest, the cause of which I did nofc at 
 first understand. She showed me over the establish- 
 ment, and very cheerfully gave much information in 
 relation to it. At parting she informed me that she 
 -had two sisters in America, who like herself were 
 members of the " Sisters of Charity," and although 
 they resided at New Orleans, far distant from my 
 place of residence, yet the sight of one from the same 
 land gave her much satisfaction and seemed to bring 
 them nearer to her. As a Protestant, but disposed to 
 rejoice in everything which is good under whatever 
 name, I mention these incidents with satisfaction and 
 interest. 
 
 I sailed from Alexandria on Monday, the twentieth 
 of June, in the English steamer which I have men- 
 
556 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 tioned. One of the last objects which I saw in leav- 
 ing this " clime of the sun," and which still seems in 
 its polished and lofty grandeur to stand before me, 
 was Pompey's Pillar. The captain of the Glasgow 
 was a Scotchman by birth, but had his residence in 
 Liverpool. He had often been in America \ and at 
 one time had the charge of one of the Cunard steam- 
 ers which touch at Boston. This led to some con- 
 versation and acquaintance; and made me feel quite 
 at home. The arrangements of this steamer were ad- 
 mirable. There was a clergyman of the Church of 
 England on board, and religious service was regularly 
 held on the Sabbath, at which the crew attended. 
 
 We sailed for a time along the coast of Africa, and 
 then directed our course towards Malta. "We stopped 
 a few hours at Malta, which we reached on Saturday, 
 the 25th of June, but did not go on shore. A number 
 of English ships-of-war were in the harbor ; but the 
 greater number had recently left for Constantinople, 
 in the anticipation of the outbreak of war between 
 Russia and Turkey, which would necessarily involve 
 England. I say necessarily; but in using that ex- 
 pression, I do not refer to any necessity which God 
 has created, or which a higher Christian principle and 
 greater forbearance and love would not obviate, but 
 to those pressing exigences, those necessities of state, 
 which arise out of the complications of diplomacy, 
 and from the strength of human pride, interest and 
 passion. The idea of another general war in this age 
 of Christian progress and civilization — a war without 
 any assignable direction and without any termination 
 which could be foreseen — was exceedingly painful to 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 557 
 
 me. Malta is a great arsenal ; — in the language of 
 Scripture, a " munition of rocks." I had stopped here 
 in going to Egypt ; and gave some account of it in a 
 former letter. 
 
 In going from Malta to Gibraltar, we were for some 
 time in sight of the African coast on the southern 
 side of the Mediterranean. One morning as we were 
 sailing in the neighborhood of Cape Bon and along 
 the Bay of Tunis, the site of ancient Carthage was 
 pointed out to me. The very name excited no 
 small emotion. Among my early recollections there 
 is scarcely any place or any historical event, which 
 affected me more, or has left a deeper place in my 
 memory, than Carthage and the events connected with 
 it. The poets and historians of Rome, though not 
 without biasses unfavorable to strict truth, have elo- 
 quently commemorated the greatness and the terrible 
 overthrow of her mighty rival. The Roman histo- 
 rians say, that when the young Hannibal appeared 
 for the first time as a leader in the Carthaginian army, 
 the old soldiers, now decrepid with years and living 
 upon past memories, saw in his form and countenance, 
 and military step, the restoration and the once more 
 living presence of his father Hamilcar, under whom 
 they had fought in their youth. It was thus that the 
 mere sight of the spot upon which Carthage was built, , 
 now a sandy desolation, restored the city and the sen- 
 ate, and gave a momentary existence to the celebrated 
 names, which are associated in history with the arts 
 of war or the wisdom of legislation. No assembled 
 senate is there now. No ships of war or commerce 
 
 cover the sea with their sails. No Hamilcar or Han- 
 
 47* 
 
558 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 nibal leads armies to battle. No Mago pleads his 
 country's cause. On that sandy shore is the burial- 
 place of a great nation. Her mighty image, as it ex- 
 ists in the dimness of history, — vast but faint in its 
 outlines, — sits in sad but solitary grandeur on the 
 place of her tomb. 
 
 Soon after leaving Cape Bon, our vessel changed 
 its direction from the coast of Africa to that of Spain. 
 We passed along the base of cliffs and mountains, 
 with plains and valleys opening between them ; but 
 no longer resounding with the hum of a busy popula- 
 tion, and destitute of their ancient fertility and beau- 
 ty. This land too, though much changed both in 
 its physical and moral attributes, is the birthplace, — 
 the ancient and celebrated home, — of a great people. 
 I could not fail to gaze with deep interest upon a 
 country, whatever may be said of its present condi- 
 tion, which in past ages has had its varied epochs of 
 bitter trial and successful conflict, and which has been 
 illustrated by renowned literary names ; — a country 
 which the genius of Irving, Prescott, and Tichnor 
 has made familiar, both in its history and literature, 
 to American readers. 
 
 On reaching Gibraltar, Friday, the 1st day of July, 
 our vessel went into harbor ; and gave us an oppor- 
 tunity to wander for a few hours through the streets of 
 the city, and to get some idea of its amazing strength 
 as a military position. The beautiful bay of Gibral- 
 tar, formed by the isthmus and the lofty promontory 
 called the Mountain of Gibraltar on one side, and by 
 the mountains and coast of Spain on the other, is 
 very capacious ; — capable of holding a large fleet. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 559 
 
 The appearance of the rocky and insular height which 
 bears the name of the mountain,and is the same with 
 the Mons Calpe of the ancient Romans, is quite sin- 
 gular. With its northern termination lifting its rug- 
 ged and frowning head above the southern, aided by 
 the slight depression in the part of the summit which 
 is between them, it easily suggests the idea of a lion 
 couchant, reposing in strength, but ready to awake in 
 terrible and irresistible action, at any approach of 
 danger. Numerous cannon, lining the shore or look- 
 ing darkly from the sides of the mountain, are ready 
 to pour forth destruction upon the invader. But Gib- 
 raltar is too well known to require a description. 
 
 In many respects the city of Gibraltar, with its mag- 
 nificent bay, with the straits uniting two oceans, with 
 the varied country around it, its position in relation 
 to the countries on the Mediterranean, its immense 
 fortifications, and its history, is one of the most re- 
 markable of places. At this renowned spot was the 
 termination of the most adventurous voyages of the 
 ancient world. For many ages all that lay beyond it 
 ,was a region unknown. But from that unknown ex- 
 panse a new power has arisen. Strength is born of 
 liberty. What was once a small barbarian island has 
 become, by refusing the claims and domination of 
 slavery, and by being true to itself, a mighty nation. 
 Its presence and authority are felt in every part of 
 the world. England, taking her position here by the 
 right of conquest, though it must be allowed, in viola- 
 tion of the rights of position and nature, — England, 
 the mother of nations, and strong in thought and free- 
 dom as well as in physical power, — holds this great 
 key and pathway of the East. 
 
560 LETTERS iESTHETIC, 
 
 When, in coming through the Straits of Gibraltar, 
 we passed from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, 
 my mind was the subject of a momentary experience, 
 which was powerful but perhaps not unnatural. It 
 seemed to me as if I were passing out of one world 
 into another. The East, though my travels had been 
 rapid, had taken a strong hold upon my imagination, 
 and become a sort of home to me ; but from the new 
 scene, upon which I was now entering, it could be 
 seen and known no more. The transition from one 
 to the other was immense ; so that I was reminded of 
 that celebrated gate of Dante, standing at the bounda- 
 ries of existence, which separated the world of the liv- 
 ing from the world of the dead, where those entered 
 who were not destined to return. In a moment, as it 
 were, countries, climates, the appearances of nature, 
 arts, history, were changed. The strong steamer 
 dashed upon the waves. I stood upon the deck and 
 looked back, like one that is loth to lose a beloved 
 object, upon that eastern world, from which the last 
 ray of light was beaming. It was near the close of 
 the day. On one side were the mountains of Spain. 
 On the other were the mountains of Africa. The 
 lofty heights, which once bore the proud name of the 
 pillars of Hercules, and which the limited knowledge 
 of antiquity had established as the boundary of things, 
 stood face to face. The path of the narrow, foaming 
 ocean was between them. In a few moments, as I 
 stood gazing upon this memorable gateway, more ma- 
 jestic than the gates of Thebes, the clouds and dark- 
 ness of heaven came down upon it, and closed the 
 portal of the Orient forever. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 561 
 
 Farewell, bright vision of an hour ! 
 
 Fading away, like early dew, 
 All passed ; and yet the soul hath power, 
 
 Its varied image to renew ; — 
 Restor'd with tints as clear and true, 
 As sunbeams in their morning hue. 
 
 The olive grove, the mountain height, 
 The vale, where many a flock is tended, 
 
 The shepherd's tent, the starry night, 
 A vision past, but not yet ended, — 
 
 Vanished to sight, and left behind, 
 
 And yet eternal in the mind. 
 
 In memory shines that Eastern sky, 
 By day and night as clear as ever ; — 
 
 In memory flowers, that quickly die, 
 Resume the tint that fadeth never ; — 
 
 In memory frowns the sunless rock, 
 
 "Which shades the shepherd and his flock. 
 
 Oh strange, mysterious power, possest 
 
 Of what is lost to outward sense ! 
 To thee, the mirror of the breast, 
 
 I give this past inheritance ; — 
 Knowing thou wilt not let it die, 
 But hold it for eternity. . 
 
 "With the aid of steam, and of the sails almost con- 
 stantly set, we went rapidly on. Soon after leaving 
 the Straits of Gibraltar, we passed the Cape of Trafal- 
 gar, which projects from the south-western coast of 
 Spain ; — going over the very place in the ocean, which 
 has been rendered celebrated by being the locality of 
 Nelson's last great and bloody battle. Altering our 
 direction at Cape St. Vincent, we approached near 
 the coast of Portugal, so near as to look into the spa- 
 cious mouth of the Tagus and bring the environs of 
 Lisbon full in sight. Altering our direction again at 
 Cape Finisterre, we crossed the bay of Biscay, and 
 favored much by the weather, again came in sight 
 
562 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 of Ireland, and reached Liverpool the second time, 
 July 16th. 
 
 Here I found friends, who had just arrived from 
 America, and gave me news of my family. I was 
 once more welcomed by the valued Christian friend, 
 who had extended to me his hospitality when I reached 
 England the first time. But I could not remain long. 
 I made a rapid visit to London, — which seemed to 
 me after all I had seen, as entitled to be regarded, in 
 comparison with other cities, as the great seat of com- 
 merce, of general intelligence, and of European liberty. 
 I returned to Liverpool, took passage in the steamer 
 Arctic, which sailed for America on the 20th of July ; 
 and after a voyage which was not diversified by any 
 special incidents, reached the city of New York on 
 Saturday, the thirtieth of the same month. 
 
 In another and last letter I wish to say a few words 
 on certain dispositions of mind, which are favorable 
 in distant travelling. But I will say a word more 
 here. It is this. I am satisfied with the land and 
 the home which God has given me. I will say a 
 word more. I thought that I was an American ; but 
 I have found out that the world is my country. I am 
 one of those, who are willing to testify, that man in 
 his central nature, is the same everywhere. In his 
 joys, his griefs, his hopes, his affections, he is one. 
 He may differ in his location, his history, his modes 
 of thought, the form of government under which he 
 lives, his language, his multiplied associations. But 
 his heart, which embodies the secret of universal al- 
 liance, is one. He has learned the folly of separation. 
 He sighs for unity. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 563 
 
 This is the world's hope. And I will add, that it 
 is this, which points to the world's great duty. And 
 that duty is to recognize more and more the idea of 
 central unity ; and to believe in and to aim at that 
 unity continually, under the name and form of uni- 
 versal brotherhood, as the great object and the glori- 
 ous result of Christian civilization. 
 
 The fact that I and my brother man are born in 
 different countries, that we speak different languages, 
 that we live under different governments, — although 
 these things are undoubtedly of the nature of dividing 
 elements and tendencies, — cannot have the effect es- 
 sentially to separate us, while the chords of the heart 
 are united together. To this union,— not so much of 
 the intellect, as of the affections, — all things tend. 
 War and all contention have become obsolete ideas. 
 I do not say, that they have become obsolete in prac- 
 tice. But I will venture to say, that, in the estima- 
 tion of reflecting and enlightened minds, ,and con- 
 sidered as the means of effectual protection and of 
 real and permanent good, they are rapidly becoming 
 obsolete as ideas or truths. The world, — (and by the 
 world I mean particularly the great masses of men, 
 who have at last* awakened to wider and clearer per- 
 ceptions,) is beginning to discover, that amid multi- 
 plied differences there is a common centre ; — that the 
 differences among men are incidental and temporary, 
 and that the central element is essential and eternal. 
 The light of Christ in the soul has revealed it as a 
 matter of speculative truth to them ; and Christ's 
 bleeding and mediating heart will make it good, as a 
 matter of practical and positive realization. Through 
 
564 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the clouds and smoke of the world's long contest the 
 harmonial sky is dawning. I have been at Trafalgar 
 and have seen the ocean wave that was reddened by 
 the dying blood of Nelson ; I saw the lifeless dust of 
 Wellington carried to its grave ; I have stood at the 
 tomb of Napoleon. The day of warriors is over. 
 And I hear once more from the heights of Bethlehem 
 the voice too long disregarded, (the voice uttered in 
 numbers because it is the harmony of the universe, 
 and uttered by angels because it is the announcement 
 of angelic life,) which proclaims good will to men, 
 and heavenly peace on earth. 
 
 (LVI.) 
 
 At home— Home feelings— My own room — Scenery around me — Re- 
 flections on travel — Divine companionship — Illustrations from the 
 circumstances of my departure— Illustrations from the circumstan- 
 ces attending my arrival in England— God seen in his works — God 
 seen in national providences — God seen in the arts — Oneness or 
 unity of religious feeling — God in all places— God within us. 
 
 BRUNSWICK, MAINE, AUGUST 4, 1853. 
 
 I am again at home. The date of this letter is the 
 day subsequent to my arrival. I will say nothing of 
 the joys I experience, in being once more in the bosom 
 of my family. If I could command adequate lan- 
 guage on such a subject, still I should hardly venture 
 to trust my feelings. I will only say that my heart is 
 grateful, not only for what I have experienced in the 
 affections of my own family ; but for every expres- 
 sion of kindness, with which my other friends have 
 received me. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 565 
 
 I am seated again in the room, in which I have 
 spent the hours of a large portion of my life. I look 
 out from my window. Below me is the beautiful 
 village. Beyond the majestic river which encircles 
 it, — which flows in part from the mountains and 
 lakes of my native State, — are the hills of Topsham, 
 crowned with trees and verdure. The clear beaming 
 sunlight comes down in silence on the tranquil forest. 
 The scene fills both the eye and the thoughts. My 
 heart rests. 
 
 But in again returning to other thoughts and cares, 
 and in bringing these letters to a close, I will venture 
 to say a few words on a subject which interests me 
 much, — namely, the moral and religious aspects and 
 influences of travel. 
 
 My general proposition on this subject is, that if a 
 man wishes to travel into other countries pleasantly 
 and profitably, he must take God with him for a com- 
 panion ; — starting with Him when he goes, in order 
 that he may find Him, and know Him, and rejoice 
 with Him on the way. He who travels thus, will find 
 God watching over and supplying his wants, estab- 
 lishing the harmonies between faith and providence, 
 revealing the Infinite in the finite, and showing not 
 only truth and beauty, but how all truth and beauty 
 centre in Himself. What I have further to say will 
 illustrate in some degree this general position. My 
 statements, it is true, are the slight and imperfect 
 records of personal experience ; but I hope, without 
 professing to exhaust the subject, that they will throw 
 some light upon it. 
 
 I left my native country, September 18th, 1852. 
 48 
 
566 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 My leaving at that particular time was somewhat un- 
 expected to myself, and under circumstances which 
 precluded the ordinary preparation. I was unused to 
 distant travel. My health, broken by long anxieties, 
 was quite feeble. I knew not that I had friends, or 
 should be likely to find friends in foreign countries ; 
 and took no letters of introduction -except one to a 
 person in London, which, however, failed of reaching 
 its place of destination. In my physical weakness, 
 which w T as one principal cause of my going abroad, 
 and which naturally produced an unfavorable effect 
 upon the mind's action, I could hardly be said to be 
 able to take care of myself. 
 
 But still, the peculiar combination of circumstances 
 which surrounded me, constituted a voice of provi- 
 dence, which seemed to me to require me to depart. 
 Unwilling to go in my own .will, I believed, never- 
 theless, that I was required to go in the decisions 
 of a higher will. This conviction was a great conso- 
 lation to me, because I had been led to adopt strongly 
 the opinion that a man's safety and happiness depend 
 very much upon his harmonizing with providential 
 arrangements. Harmony with providence is of course 
 harmony with the God of providence ; — and as the 
 providential adjustments which touched my case, were 
 such that I could not well do otherwise than I did, I 
 did not doubt that I went, not so much in self-choice 
 and self-will, as because God required me to go. But 
 where he was to send me, — what I was to see, — 
 whether my health was to be restored, — or whether I 
 should be the subject of increased sufferings and per- 
 haps of death itself in a foreign land,— I did not know, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 567 
 
 nor had I any special anxiety to know. I stood upon 
 the deck of the steamer Arctic, as she proudly made 
 her way down the bay of New York ; feeling that I 
 held the only hand which could rightfully and truly 
 guide me, and satisfied that I was led into this novel 
 situation by a wisdom higher than my own. And 
 this was sufficient for me. 
 
 The ocean was a new scene to me. I had never been 
 upon it before, — at least out of sight of land. Day 
 after day brought nothing but the same expanse of 
 wave added to wave. Space, multiplying itself by 
 time, seemed to enlarge itself; — and man, at least in 
 his relation to material expansion, became a very little 
 thing. And then came the accession of unknown for- 
 ces. The winds and the waves beat upon us ; and 
 at one time, in St. George's channel and near the coast 
 of England, we encountered a very violent storm. 
 Perhaps it was owing to my ignorance, but it seemed 
 to me at this time, as if our situation was a perilous 
 one, — with a rocky coast near at hand, a raging sea, 
 and in the darkness of the night. But I found the 
 -lessons of religious faith available at this trying junc- 
 ture, and sustaining the soul without murmurs or 
 fears. This is an illustration of what I have said in 
 a general way of the relations of God to the incidents 
 and exigencies which occur in journeying in foreign 
 lands. The ocean was a revelation of God ; — the 
 dangers of the ocean were a revelation of the little- 
 ness of man ; — and in the protection which shielded us 
 in the hour of peril, we found the truth of the Psalm- 
 ist's saying, " because thou hast made the Lord thy 
 habitation, there shall no evil befal thee, neither shall 
 
568 LETTERS iCSTHETIC, 
 
 any plague come nigh thy dwelling ; for He shall give 
 His angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy 
 ways." 
 
 I will illustrate the subject in other ways. We had 
 scarcely entered the river Mersey and set foot upon 
 the shores of England, when I formed an acquaint- 
 ance with a gentleman of wealth and piety, never 
 seen by me before, who offered me the hospitality of 
 his house, and in various ways exhibited a strong and 
 generous desire to render my stay in England profita- 
 ble and pleasant. I have referred to him in one of 
 my early letters. My personal obligations for the 
 marked kindness of this excellent man* can never be 
 forgotten ; and it was the more pleasing, because I 
 saw that his wealth, his position and influence in so- 
 ciety and in the church of which he is a member, and 
 his assiduous personal labors, were all devoted to the 
 cause of truth, religion and humanity. I thus found 
 that Providence, in not furnishing at my departure 
 the ordinary letters of introduction, had not left me 
 without friends ; and that full faith in the present and 
 protecting care of God is a letter of introduction and 
 credit, which, the great Being on whom it is drawn 
 would not allow to be dishonored. 
 
 Nor was this the only instance of providential in- 
 terest and care. Other friends were raised up; other 
 arrangements were made, almost without any care or 
 effort on my own part, which gave a new distinct- 
 ness and impressiveness to the great practical truth, 
 that God will take care of those who believingly put 
 their trust in him. 
 
 * Mr. George Pennell, of Liverpool. 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 569 
 
 In regard to the particular places and results of my 
 journeyings, I have already said that I had no special 
 anxiety. I knew that there was one, who could plan 
 for me better than I could plan for myself. I found, 
 however, that the thought occurred to me from time 
 to time, that it would be a consolation to me, in these 
 last days of my life, if that Being in whom I trusted 
 should enable me to travel in those lands and to see 
 those places, which have been rendered memorable 
 by the events recorded in the Scriptures. I had no 
 definite expectations ; — it seemed to be hardly within 
 the range of possibility ; — but still it was natural that 
 I should desire, if it should be God's will to grant it, 
 to see the places where the Saviour was born, lived 
 and died. God was pleased, in a manner unexpected 
 to myself, to raise up friends, by means of whose 
 kindness this desire was fulfilled. The persons, to 
 whom I now allude, were the valued American friends, 
 to whom I have already often referred. They cheer- 
 fully consented to admit me to the privilege of their 
 society, took the most friendly interest in my com- 
 paratively helpless situation, relieved me from many 
 duties and cares which would have been beyond my 
 strength, and contributed in many ways to my happi- 
 ness, as we travelled together in France, Savoy, Sar- 
 dinia, Tuscany, Rome, Naples, Malta, Egypt, the pen- 
 insula of Sinai, and Palestine. It is hardly necessary 
 to say, that I could see nothing but the hand of God 
 in this favorable and unexpected occurrence. 
 
 It was thus, that starting with God, or at least en- 
 deavoring to do so, I found God on the way. And I 
 not only recognized and felt the divine presence in 
 48* 
 
570 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 the arrangements, which facilitated my travels ; but 
 also in other respects. 
 
 In the state of mind in which I was, and which led 
 me to think much of things in their causes or original 
 source, I could not travel without seeing God in the 
 works of which he is the author. With the excep- 
 tion of sin, the origin and relations of which are not 
 easily understood, it is, I suppose, a just and com- 
 monly received idea, that God has a real and positive 
 relation to everything which exists, or which takes 
 place, both natural and moral. He is, therefore, not 
 far from every one of us at all times. And there is a 
 pure and believing state of mind, (of which the soul, 
 as it advances in Christian experience, will not fail to 
 be the subject,) in which all existences, and all events 
 and providences also, will become of the nature of 
 divine revelations. He, therefore, who has an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing most of nature, (I speak now particu- 
 larly of physical or material nature,) may expect to 
 see most of God, if he has within him that opened 
 and purified eye, by which the great fact of the divine 
 presence and agency is perceptible. In other words, 
 the world is God's book — the embodied and finite rep- 
 resentation, so far as it can be made, of that which is 
 Infinite ; and he, who has an opportunity of turning 
 over its pages and seeing most of it, has an oppor- 
 tunity, other things being equal, of seeing and know- 
 ing most of God himself. In passing, therefore, from 
 land to land, from ocean to ocean, along beautiful 
 or mighty rivers, the Seine, the Arno, the Tiber, the 
 Rhone, the Thames, the Nile, the Jordan, and over 
 lofty mountains, the beautiful Tabor, the majestic 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. . 571 
 
 Carmel, the snow-clad Alps, the wooded Appenines, 
 the burning brow of Vesuvius, and the rugged granite 
 peaks of Sinai, the conception of the Deity, aided by 
 these vast objects of sight, greatly expanded and mag- 
 nified itself. It seemed to me, as if my heavenly 
 Father, as he thus went with me from place to place, 
 held me by the hand and opened in my presence on 
 each new river's bank or mountain height some new 
 page or picture in that vast and wondrous volume of 
 nature, which is in part the record and monument of 
 his unsearchable glory. The letters which formed the 
 great name of Jehovah, were made up, if I may so 
 express it, of rivers and oceans, of vast plains and 
 mountains ; and I read and understood them on that 
 account, the more easily. I cannot tell how my heart 
 rejoiced — how it exulted — in these new revelations. 
 
 I must say further, in giving an account of the re- 
 ligious suggestions to which an acquaintance with 
 different and distant countries gives rise, that I was 
 led to think much of God, and to appreciate more 
 fully the excellence of his character, considered as the 
 God of nations, as well as of individuals. 
 
 There is a providence of individuals. There is also 
 a providence of states and empires. And it is to the 
 last I now particularly refer. It is not easy to tread 
 among the ruins of buried or prostrate nations, with- 
 out learning a moral lesson. And the more we know 
 of the mighty power of right and wrong, — whether 
 by the rewards or the sorrows which they bring, — the 
 more we know of God, and the greater confidence we 
 have in Him. I cannot be expected to go into par- 
 ticulars ; but will make one or two allusions. If no 
 
572 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, 
 
 nation of ancient times arose to greater power and in- 
 fluence than ancient Rome, extending her sway as 
 she did over a great part of the world, it is also true 
 I think, that she reached that overshadowing position 
 by a course, characterized not unfrequently by decep- 
 tion, and almost always by pride and cruelty. In 
 completing the measure of her glory, — or rather what 
 the world calls glory, — she completed also the measure 
 of her sin. And in travelling over Italy, we saw every- 
 where, in broken walls and scattered columns, the 
 fragments of a prostrate nation, which had fallen at 
 the touch of Providence, because it had been founded, 
 not on justice and mercy, but on ambition and vio- 
 lence. Not only invading armies had trampled on 
 her gates, but making our way through the ashes and 
 lava of Pompeii and Herculaneum, it was not easy to 
 forget that burning mountains and tossing seas had 
 also risen up in testimony against her. 
 
 At an earlier period Egypt had its grandeur. The 
 Pharaohs were as proud and as cruel as the Csesars ; 
 and the massive monuments of the Nile cannot justly 
 be regarded as inferior in extent and grandeur to the 
 magnificent ruins, which are scattered on the banks 
 of the Tiber. But the greatness of Egypt, — a great- 
 ness which is sufficiently indicated and proved by the 
 extent of its remaining desolations, — could not sup- 
 port itself against that providential law, which pro- 
 nounces death upon everything that is not sustained 
 by principles which meet the divine approbation. If 
 I saw God, therefore, among the ruins of Rome, I 
 saw Him also among the ruins of Egypt. 
 
 Nor was this all. Amid the tottering walls and the 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 573 
 
 sea-beaten columns of the proud cities Tyre and Si- 
 don, I had before me other evidences, perhaps not less 
 striking than those to which I have referred, that God, 
 in the light of his providential dealings with nations, 
 is impressively revealed in his great attributes of 
 power and justice. So true it is, that morality, hav- 
 ing its foundation in the unalterable constitution and 
 relations of things, has its practical development and 
 its commentary in historical events ; and that desola- 
 tion itself, when viewed in the light of a just philoso- 
 phy, will "vindicate the ways of God to man." Pal- 
 estine itself, the land of God's chosen people, found 
 no exemption from this great truth. I looked down 
 from the mountains of Judea on the Dead Sea, and 
 remembered the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah, which 
 sleep in silence beneath its dark waters. And as I 
 stood on the Mount of Olives and beheld Jerusalem, 
 I called to mind the sad prediction of the Saviour, 
 which the sword of Titus and the gathering of the 
 " Roman eagles" had accomplished. 
 
 My religious convictions were strengthened also in 
 another way ; — and so much so as to draw still more 
 closely the bonds of communion and love. Provi- 
 dence so ordered my journey, as I have already been 
 led to say, that I was enabled to travel over lands 
 which have a connection with Biblical history ; and 
 everything which came under my notice tended to 
 confirm that great record of God's intercourse with 
 men. And thus I became more intimately acquainted 
 not only with the God of nature and providence, but 
 with the God of the Bible. I travelled that Appian 
 way — I passed the site of that Appii Forum and the 
 
574 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 Three Taverns, of which I had read, or to which I 
 had found references in the book of Acts. At Puc- 
 cioli, where the apostle Paul first landed in Italy, at 
 the Island of Malta, were he was shipwrecked, and at 
 Rome, where he was a prisoner, and where he was 
 put to death for Jesus' name, I felt I was treading 
 upon soil, honored by eminent religious associations. 
 On the Nile, at the Red Sea, in our long march 
 through the wilderness of Sinai, at Hebron, at Beth- 
 lehem, at Samaria, at Esdraelon, at the Sea of Gali- 
 lee, and in many other places, we found striking con- 
 firmations of the narratives and statements of the 
 Bible. 
 
 I had never doubted the Bible. I ever had a deep 
 abiding conviction of its truth ; — a conviction result- 
 ing not only from the external evidence which may 
 be brought to bear upon it, but especially from the 
 evidence which it carries in itself. And yet in some 
 way which perhaps it would not be easy for me to 
 explain, the Bible seemed to me, when I had actually 
 been amid the scenes of its wonderful narratives, to 
 have more distinctness, more fulness of truth, more 
 transcendent power. I shall not easily forget, how, 
 on Judah's hills and at the base of the mountains of 
 Gilboa, the songs of David echoed through my spirit, 
 as if they were flung for the first time from the mas- 
 ter's lyre. On the hill of Bethlehem, in the valley of 
 Nazareth, and on the Mount of Olives, the Saviour's 
 life assumed a greater distinctness and reality, and I 
 seemed to hear more audibly the divine words, which 
 proceeded from his lips. 
 
 I know not how it may have been with other travel- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 575 
 
 lers, but I am obliged to add further, that the works of 
 art which we saw from time to time in different coun- 
 tries, not unfrequently inspired emotions, which har- 
 monized w T ith and strengthened the highest religious 
 sentiments. It is something to see the judgment 
 scenes of Michael Angelo, and to stand in the pre- 
 sence of the historical events of the Bible, as they are 
 brought to light in the miraculous cartoons of Ra- 
 phael. It would argue but poorly for a person's reli- 
 gious sensibility, who should not find it quickened 
 and strengthened in some degree by scripture scenes 
 and events, as they are combined together, and re- 
 vealed anew, as it were, in the pamtings of Correggio 
 and Murillo and of the other great masters, whose 
 works are so frequently found in the galleries of art 
 and in the palaces of Europe. 
 
 And I think it may be said further, that there is 
 a sense, in which the works of art may be regarded 
 without impropriety as the works of God; and in 
 which we may associate God with them, much in the 
 same way in which we may associate Him with the 
 works of nature. Who made the marble which the 
 chisel has wrought into shape ? Who fashioned the 
 hand that holds the chisel, or which guides the pain- 
 ter's pencil ? From whom came that inspiring thought 
 in accordance with which the marble is modelled, or 
 which gives harmony and inspiration to color ? Ge- 
 nius is not an accident ; but everything which is true 
 and good in it, everything which harmonizes with 
 nature and gives strength to virtue, has a divine ori- 
 gin. To the eye of faith which sees causes in effects 
 and which traces the multiplied relations of things to 
 
576 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 their central element, God sits enthroned in the Ro- 
 man Capitol amid the countless works of art which 
 he has inspired, no less than on the Alps and the 
 Appenines. 
 
 These views might be presented in another and 
 little different light. The traveller not only meets 
 with flowers and trees, with rivers and mountains, 
 which elevate his thoughts to God, — not only with 
 works of art, which also have their moral and reli- 
 gious influences upon the mind ; — but the power of 
 association, operating strongly in connection with 
 memorable localities, restores, and places before him, 
 almost with the distinctness of real life, the powerful, 
 or illuminated men of other days, who have imparted 
 clearness to truth, or beauty to virtue ; — men who 
 have illustrated humanity by thought, or have honored 
 it by suffering and action. I have referred to this in 
 part, — in connection with what I have said of the 
 associated influence of scenes in Palestine. But I 
 would extend the view to all lands, to all periods of 
 time, and to all truly great men. When I came to 
 the places, over which their memory and their spirits 
 hovered, it is hardly an exaggeration to say, that they 
 appeared personally before me. The mind created 
 them anew. Let it not be considered strange, then, 
 if I say, in a sense which is susceptible of a just ap- 
 preciation, that I met with Somers, Chatham, and 
 Burke in the Parliament House of England, — with 
 Wesley and Addison on the banks of the Isis and 
 Cherwell, — with Shakspeare in Windsor Forest and 
 on Dover Cliffs, — with Algernon Sidney on Tower 
 Hill, — with Fenelon at the Seminary of St. Sulpitius, 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 577 
 
 — with Dante at Florence, — with Cicero in the Ro- 
 man Capitol, — with Moses in the wilderness, — with 
 Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at Mamre and the cave 
 of Macpelah, — with David on the hill of Zion. The 
 mind seized upon what remained, and restored what 
 had departed. The inward senses were opened with 
 a power greater than that which belongs to the out- 
 ward. The eye of the mind saw them. The ear of 
 the heart heard them. 
 
 Can atheism thus give life to the dead? Can infi- 
 delity, which has no confidence in virtue, thus restore 
 the men of other ages, whose memory remains, be- 
 cause their life was the teaching and the illustration 
 of virtue ? How can these things be, if there be no 
 God? And how can they be, with that explanation, 
 which a belief in God alone can give of them, without 
 a juster appreciation and a higher love of Him, who, 
 in being the Source of all things, is the Centre of all 
 just thoughts, the Mind of all minds ? 
 
 One of the pleasant things of a religious nature, 
 which increases the interest and happiness of the 
 Christian traveller in foreign countries, is the evidence 
 which he often obtains, of the essential unity or one- 
 ness of character, which exists in religious experience. 
 In Europe, Asia, Africa, America, the child of God 
 is one. Under blazing suns, and in polar snows, 
 under all forms of government and diversities of edu- 
 cation, as well as in all varieties of climate, the image 
 of Christ is the same, — drawn in immortal lines by 
 the same mighty architect, — not always completed, 
 but filling out, with each day's added lines and touch- 
 es, into the likeness of that great and beautiful model, 
 49 
 
578 LETTERS AESTHETIC, 
 
 which exhibited, in the person of Christ in his earthly 
 incarnation, the soul of the Godhead in man's hu- 
 man heart. Names, sects, parties, have no power to 
 hide it, — any more than diversities of language, gov- 
 ernment, and color. This beautiful image, I saw in 
 my travels, in countries and places far remote from 
 each other ; — on the banks of the Po and the Tiber, 
 in London, in Florence, in Alexandria, in Jerusalem, 
 in the cottages of Waldensian Mountains, as I had 
 seen it before in the mountains of America, — differ- 
 ing, undoubtedly, in degrees of completeness, but al- 
 ways true to the great Master's hand. It needed no 
 letter of introduction. I saw it with the eye of the 
 heart. I embraced it with the arms of the affections. 
 I cannot say how much I rejoiced in this multiplica- 
 tion of universal brotherhood. It was more pleasant 
 to me, than the beauties of nature, delightful as they 
 are ; — brighter than the light of the morning sun on 
 the mountain tops. 
 
 Among other developments of religious feeling, or 
 perhaps I should say, of those feelings which have 
 a close connection with our religious nature, I am 
 tempted to give the following illustration. It pre- 
 sents a form of experience, related to, and yet, in some 
 respects, very different, from that which I have just 
 given. 
 
 One day, after reaching Alexandria, I occupied 
 myself, in company with the friends who were with 
 me, in making a short excursion along the banks of 
 the Mahmoudie Canal. On the shore of the canal, 
 engaged in various occupations, or strolling at leisure 
 on its banks, were Turks and Arabs, — and not unfre- 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 579 
 
 quently with a group of children around them. To 
 me they were a new race of beings, — differing from 
 what I had been accustomed to see, in dress, and in 
 outward bearing and deportment, as well as in their 
 history and language. But under these differences 
 of dress and peculiarities of manner, I recognized, in 
 the " human face divine," the signatures of a common 
 heart, a common nature. None of the outward dif- 
 ferences to which I have referred, no diversities of de- 
 scent and history, of language, or even of religion, 
 were capable of limiting my affections. My eyes had 
 no sooner looked upon them, than my heart gave 
 them its sympathy and love as promptly and as strong- 
 ly, as if they had been, as in fact they were and are, 
 u bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh." And I 
 must confess, that this unprompted unity of feeling 
 made me very happy for a short time. I was rejoiced 
 to find, that in every part of the world I could meet 
 a great multitude to whom I could apply, as repre- 
 sentative of my feelings, the sacred names of brothers 
 and sisters, of fathers and mothers. 
 " This was my first experience. Only a very short 
 time, however, had passed, when I had inward mis- 
 givings ; and indeed, the thought was strongly im- 
 pressed upon my mind, as if by some unseen power, 
 that I had done wrong, in thus promptly giving my 
 heart to those of a different religious faith. An in- 
 ward suggestion seemed to upbraid me with placing 
 confidence and affection in a race of men, who re- 
 jected the Christian religion, and had often shown 
 hostility and contempt to that Saviour, in whom alone 
 1 was entitled to place my dearest hopes. What was 
 
580 LETTERS AESTHETIC 
 
 a Turk to me ? Or what was I to a Turk ? Had 
 not the whole history of these Mohammedan races 
 been adverse to Christianity? Had not the scimetar 
 been bathed in the blood of Christians? 
 
 Whether these suggestions came from a good or 
 an evil source, from God or from Satan, I was at a 
 loss to know. The embarrassment, however, and the 
 sorrow arising from this state of mind, were not small; 
 and I was not relieved from them till I had made it 
 a subject of inward reflection. I sought retirement. 
 In simplicity and earnestness of spirit, I carried the 
 matter to God, as the great source of truth. I was 
 soon relieved, and so convincingly and distinctly, that 
 I was not troubled afterwards. God said to me, — if 
 I may be allowed to employ the unusual language of 
 the ancient Mystics, but which, I must confess, more 
 accurately describes the intimations and experience 
 of my inward consciousness than any other, — that my 
 business was to love ; — that God alone could know 
 and appreciate the diversities of situations and creeds ; 
 — that He alone could estimate the un propitious ten- 
 dencies of a birth and education in a heathen or Mo- 
 hammedan land ; — that I could not be born into the 
 image of Him who died for His enemies, while I re- 
 pulsed from my bosom the man of any clime, or any 
 belief; — and that, in all cases, he who wishes to con- 
 vey the truth to any people, and to do them good, 
 must carry before him, as its precursor, the open ban- 
 ner of a generous and disinterested affection. 
 
 One of the results of these long travels, was a clearer 
 and deeper impression than I had experienced ever 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 581 
 
 before, that the presence and influence of God are 
 not limited by locality. 
 
 Every man, who has a truly religious heart, has 
 what may be called his sacred places. What I mean 
 to say, is, that every man, in looking back upon his 
 past religious life, is able to recall places which are 
 associated with religious incidents, — places which are 
 allied in his recollections with resolutions of amend- 
 ment, or with remarkable developments of religious 
 truth, or which have been consecrated by the sorrows 
 of penitence, or by the joys of gratitude. This, I sup- 
 pose to be the general experience ; and I am neither 
 able, nor have I any desire, to plead an exemption 
 from it. My mind has never ceased to recall such 
 places ; and often it has recalled them with profit and 
 pleasure. I remember the Bible which my mother 
 gave me ; nor is the place forgotten in which she gave 
 it. I remember the places where I read it alone. I 
 remember the garden, the wood, the valley, the river's 
 bank, where I spent many hours in pondering the prob- 
 lems of salvation, and in seeking the great Central 
 "Source of light. I remember the humble abodes, 
 rude and solitary perhaps, but yet consecrated in the 
 religious affections, where, in the evening of a long 
 summer's day, I stole secretly apart, to listen to the 
 prayers of gray-headed old men, or to learn from their 
 lips the wondrous things of God in glory, and of 
 mankind redeemed. 
 
 The teachings of God, therefore, and the various 
 religious influences of which he is the source, had be- 
 come associated, in some degree, with places ; and 
 undoubtedly, forgetting the difference between the 
 
 49* 
 
582 LETTERS -ESTHETIC, 
 
 Finite and the Infinite, I had a secret feeling, hardly 
 perceptible to myself, that such gracious influences 
 were more likely to be repeated in some places than 
 others. A wider experience dissipated this natural 
 and common illusion. I found that God could travel 
 as far and as fast as any of his poor children. And 
 when I set my foot on the ocean, to visit, for the first 
 time, climes remote and lands unknown, I left my 
 country and friends, but did not and could not, leave 
 my God behind me. Wherever I went, I found him 
 at my side. On the ocean and on the land, in the 
 storm and in the sunshine, amid the matchless beau- 
 ties of Richmond hill, and in the sterility of Arabian 
 deserts, in mountain tops, and in lowly valleys, in 
 the palaces of the Thames and the Seine, and in the 
 Bedouin's tent and the Fellah's cottage of clay, every- 
 where, and under ail circumstances, I found Him 
 present, to guide, to counsel, and console. And it 
 seemed to be an actual, and not merely a hypotheti- 
 cal and constructive presence, — a presence which is 
 recognized by the heart, as well as by the intellectual 
 conviction, — and which harmonizes with the expres- 
 sions of the Saviour, when he said, " The kingdom 
 of God is within you." 
 
 I have incidentally referred to this experience in 
 some other letters. I made records of it from time to 
 time. I have sometimes thought, that it is the ten- 
 dency of raised emotions, when they have harmony 
 in themselves, by being in harmony with God and 
 the universe, to strive after an outward expression in 
 numbers. Whatever is not in harmony, — whatever 
 is discordant with character, position, and all just re- 
 
\ 
 
 SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 583 
 
 lations, is, at least, not in the highest form of truth ; 
 and hence it was, perhaps, that these slight records of 
 religious feeling, without making pretensions to po- 
 etical merit, often took the form of measure or verse. 
 I will give one or two illustrations. Our boat was 
 one day anchored on the banks of the Nile. I wandered 
 away alone, a considerable distance. I came to the vast 
 silent sands of the Lybian desert, which limits the 
 fertility and the cultivation of the Egyptian river. 
 I sat down. Around me was vastness, desolation, 
 unutterable silence. But this great solitude was peo- 
 pled with the presence of God's company. If, in this 
 vast but lonely place, my heart, as it seemed to me, 
 was emptied of all earthly things, I seemed to be at 
 least equally conscious, that it was occupied and filled 
 with the Infinite. I felt the pressure and the embrace 
 of that mighty arm, which holds the ocean and the 
 land, the mountain and the desert. 
 
 'Tis thus in solitude, I roam 
 
 O'er many a land and tossing sea ; 
 And yet, afar from friends and home, 
 
 I find, God ! a home in Thee. 
 
 I pass from things of space and time, 
 
 The finite meets or leaves my sight ; 
 But God expands o'er every clime, 
 
 The clothing of the Infinite. 
 
 He left me not in that far land, 
 
 Which I have lov'd to call my own ; 
 And walking now on Egypt's sand, 
 
 I feel that I am not alone. 
 
 He walks the earth, He rides the air ; 
 
 The lightning's speed He leaves behind. 
 His name is Love. And tell me, — Where 
 
 Is sea or land He cannot find ? 
 
584 LETTERS J3STHETIC, 
 
 Oh long I've known him. Could it be, 
 
 That, if He did not hold me dear, 
 He thus would travel land and sea, 
 
 And throw His arms around me here ? 
 
 I could not leave Him, if I would ; 
 
 I would not, if the power were given ; 
 'Twould be to leave the True and Good, 
 
 The soul's Repose, the spirit's Heaven. 
 
 On other occasions, also, and not tmfreqently, I 
 made slight records in verse of religious feelings ; — 
 which would not be inserted here, were it not they 
 are to be read by those who will know in what way 
 to understand them. In reflecting, for instance, upon 
 the inward experience of which I had been the. sub- 
 ject, I had a clearer view, perhaps, than ever before, 
 of that passage of Scripture to which I have just now 
 referred, " The kingdom of God is within you." Be- 
 ing in such a number of places, and in such a variety 
 of circumstances, I was enabled to understand more 
 fully what I had already read in books of philosophy, 
 that external things take their character, in a great 
 degree, from the mind ; and that the kingdom of God 
 in the soul, by the diffusion of its own beauty, can 
 change any place, however rude and desolate in itself, 
 into a heavenly mansion. 
 
 And in accordance with this view, I found my heart 
 allying itself with all objects, animate and inanimate, 
 which came under my notice ; and it found alliances 
 and sympathies in return. The rock, which symbol- 
 izes the hardness of a fallen nature, was smitten and 
 pierced within me; the fountain of the central deep 
 was broken up ; and love, which changes everything 
 
SOCIAL, AND MORAL. 585 
 
 into its own beauty, flowed out in rivers. Not only 
 varied and conflicting humanity, becoming harmo- 
 nized at last into universal brotherhood, clasped me 
 to its bosom, but also material and inanimate nature 
 revealed itself as the clothing or outward expression 
 of a divine principle and life within. There was a 
 voice in the winds. There was a song in the ocean 
 waves. The desert struggled to scatter a few flowers 
 at my feet. The very rocks smiled upon me. 
 
 With the kingdom of God in the heart, I found no 
 difficulty in understanding the vision of the New Je- 
 rusalem, and in beholding its descending brightness 
 in everything around me. It is in the influence of 
 such views and experiences, that you will find, in part, 
 the explanation of what follows, with which I now 
 close this long letter ; 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS WITHIN YOU. 
 
 How oft our thoughts and hopes arise 
 To thee, the City of the Skies ! 
 How oft we sit in grief, and sigh, 
 Because thy brightness is not nigh j 
 Forgetting that a power is here, 
 Which makes the high and distant near. 
 
 Oh yes ! To man the power is given, 
 To bring to earth that distant heaven j 
 The power of faith, which has the art 
 To build God's kingdom in the heart j 
 The power of love, which has the skill, 
 With God himself, the soul to fill. 
 
 'Tis faith, that conquers time and space, 
 And love makes heaven of form and place ; 
 
586 LETTERS .ESTHETIC, &C. 
 
 Their strength combined makes all things new ; 
 It mars the false, it builds the true ; 
 It plants on martyr'd heads the crown, 
 It brings the golden city down. 
 
 Oh then arise, poor child of tears ! 
 Put on thy faith, put off thy fears ; 
 And when the power, which faith bestows, 
 Hath met and crushed thy spirit's foes, 
 Light in the heart love's shining gem, 
 And be thine own Jerusalem. 
 
 
 ERRATA . 
 
 Page 130— far Hudson — read Hundson. 
 « 280— for in different ages— read of different ages. 
 " 310— for Greek— read Greeks. 
 
 MAR 30 
 
 1948 
 
mm 
 
 H Ha