Book,.__iM^f\ CopyiightN" copyRrGHT DEPosre I Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2011 witii funding from Tine Library of Congress littp://www.arcliive.org/details/memoriesofredletOOmeeli MEMORIES OF A RED-LETTER SUMMER. :i~IXne- ELEANOR fCHILDS) MEEHAN. ■&& -mw- CINCINNATI: THP: ROBERT CLARKI-: COMPANY. 1903. Copyright, 1903, by Blkanok Childs Mbbhan. THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Received AUe t5 f90§ Copyright Entry CUAS^ COPY B, ^ XXft No ^ 53 PRESS OF THE KOBBBT CliARKE OO. OINOINNATI, U. S. A. gleMcation. ON THE SHRINE ERECTEL) IN MY HEART OF HEARTS TO THE MEMORY OF MY BEI.OVED PARENTS I LAY THIS LITTLE TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE AND AFFECTION. CONTENTS, CHAPTER I. P.^GE Our .\rri\al in England i CHAPTER n. \\'i;si\\nNSTER Abbey 1 1 CHAPTER HI. The Tower oe London 30 CHAPTER IV. London 47 London Streets and Footsteps of Dickens — British Museum. CHAPTER V. London to Scotland 57 Shakespeare's Home — Ancient ]\Ionasterics — Edin- burgh — Rosslyn Castle — Sir Walter Scott — Mel- rose Abbey — Robert Burns CHAPTER VI. London to 1ki;i. \.\d 79 Dublin — O'Connell — Emmet — Olasnevin — Drog- heda — Cromwell — Froude — Father Tom Burke. (V) VI Contents. CHAPTER VII. PAGE Irei^and 98 Parsonstown, or Birr — Lord Rosse's Telescopes — ■ Irish Character — Killarney — Innisfallen — Tom Moore — ^ Glengarifife. CHAPTER VIII. Ireland to France; 118 Cork — ■ Blarney Castle — Shandon Bells — Gerald Griffin — Returning to London — Leaving England — Paris — Cemeteries — Exposition — Versailles — Fontainebleau. CHAPTER IX. France and BeIvGium 142 Lourdes — Antwerp — Rubens — Quentin Matsys — Brussels — Waterloo — Cologne — The Dom — St. Ursula. CHAPTER X. The Rhine and Switzerland 157 On the Rhine — Ruined Castles ^- Lorelei — Bingen — Lucerne — Interlaken — Mt. St. Bernard — His- toric Associations. CHAPTER XL Switzerland and Germany 175 Geiieva — Castle of Chillon — Return to Germany — Neuenahr — Strasburg — Black Forest — Freiburg — Munich. CHAPTER XII. Oberammergau 186 Oberammergau and the Passion Play — Innsbruck. Contents. VI I CHAPTKR XIII. P^Gg Italy 206 Italy — Verona — Venice — Si. Mark's — Padua — St. Anthony's Shrine — Florence — ^lichacl Angelo — The JNlisericordians — Galileo — Dante. CHAPTER XIV. R( ).M !•: 232 Rome — The Forum — Coliseum — St. Peter's — Domine, Quo Vadis — Catacombs — Year of Jubilee — Golden Door — Papal Audience — Leo XIII. CHAPTER XV. Italy to Glr.maxy — Rkturx Ho^rI•; 271 Naples — Vesuvius — Capri — The Blue Grotto — Pompeii- — Customs of People — Return through St. Gothard Tunnel — Pisa — Milan — To Germany — Last Days on the Continent — Sailing — Captain's Dinner — Farewell — Home. LLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Grape Gatherer Frontispiece Band on Steamer Deck 2 Steerage Passengers 10 Coronation Chair, \\"estminster Aobev 13 Stratford on An'On 57 Shakespeare's Home, Stratford on Avon 58 Anne Hathaway's Cottage, Stratford on Avon. 60 .Mary, Queen of Scots 68, " Hoot, Mon " 76 Famous Rosse Telescope, Birr, Ireland 98 Irish Jaunting Car and Cabin 108 Corner in Muckross Abbey, Ireland 112 Blarney Castle 118 His Democratic Highness 128 Grotto of Lourdes 142 Familiar Scene in Belgium 149 The Mouse Tower on the Rhine 159 Restored Castle of Riiicixstein, on tiii'. Iviiimc. . 160 On the Axenstrasse, SwitzivRlaxd 167 Hospice of Mt. St. Bernard 168 Swiss Cottagers 173 Castle of Chillon, S\vn/i:Ri,Axi) 176 (IX) X Illustrations. PAGE LiNDERHOP, Bavaria 192 One of the palaces of the " Mad King." View from the Passion Pi^ay at Oberammergau, Christ Entering Jerusalem 194 Statue oe King Arthur 204 One of the twenty-eight bronze statues surrounding the tomb of the Emperor Maximilian I. in the Hof Kirche at Innsbruck. The Winged Lion oe St. Mark's, Venice 208 St. Mark's Church an.d Plaza, Venice 216 Historic Bronze Horses, St. Mark's Church, Venice 218 On the Grand Canal, Venice 220 Dante Observing the Giotto Tower, Florence. . 225 Galileo's Tower,, Florence, Italy 228 View from Hotel Veranda, Capri . . . 276 In Old Pompeii 282 Old Capuchin Convent, Amalfi 286 Happy Days on the Atlantic 290 INTRODUCTION. These pages were written with the idea, at first, of merely elaborating my jonrnal for the perusal of my family and friends, especially some young people in whom 1 am much interested, and to inspire those young people with the desire to study the history and literature of other lands; but, as the subject grew^ I concluded to offer it to other readers. I have illustrated some of the spots visited by scraps of history and incidents indicative of the char- acter of the people, C]uoting almost altogether from those who dift'er from me in religious conviction. And now I invite you to share with me the reminis- cences of a summer that, to me at least, is marked by a Red Letter. Among my souvenirs of travel, an album is j^rized, containing flowers and leaves from spots visited, and the scenes where I plucked them come to my mind in loved association. This bit of ivy recalls a romantic Irish ruin; this l)unch of jnn-i)le heather, Scottish scenes; this haw- thorn blossom, the snowy hedges along perfect Eng- lish roads, where we sauntered in leafy June. Here is a wild tlowcr from the forest of h^ontainebleau; a tuli]) from a (icrman garden, a liclien from an Alpine XII Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. rock, a rose from Capri, and an orange blossom from Sorrento. Here I sat, forgetful of time, in the dark- ening valley of Interlaken, and watched the fairy scene on the summit of the Jungfraii as the setting sun coquetted with the snowy peaks, or drifted away in a gondola to tuneful melody on the Grand Canal in Venice. Here, watched the surf beat on the Mediterranean shores, as restless as in the days when her islands were peopled by the fabled gods and goddesses; or in beau- tiful Florence sat with Dante, admiring the famed Giotto Tower; gazed with Galileo through the first telescope into the wonders of the heavens, or fol- lowed the Misericordians in their solemn offices of charity. Here, contemplated the grim walls of silent, sad Chillon, and with Eyron compassionated the lonely prisoner; or with Napoleon penetrated the sublime fastnesses and stony crags of the Pass Saint Bernard; drifted along the picturesque Rhine and peopled the crumbling rums of her old castles with the knights and robber barons of old. Here, languished in the Mamertine prison with Peter and Paul, knelt in the sacred galleries of the Catacombs, and at the shrine of "Domine, quo Vadis" heard the Divine reply to the remorseful apostle; in the Coliseum listened to the cries of the brutal pop- ulace the roar of the wild beasts, the triumphant pray- Memories of a Red-Letter Sionnier. xiii ers of the martyred Christians, and the call of the gladiators. " Caesar, we. who are about to die. salute thee!" in old Pompeii walked with blind X}(lia. heard the oracle, looked in at the feast in the house of Diomed; saw the warning " Cave Canem " at the tloor of the house of Glaucus. and tied with the af- frighted populace from the ashes of Vesuvius. At Oberammergau's Passion Play we knelt with Mary and John at the crucifixion, and awakened again in Rome, m the presence of the most august monarch of Christendom, though throneless. Leo XIII. So, if you have visited these spots, we will share the rehearsal; if not. may mine be the pleasure to dej)ict. if in l)ut a faulty v.ay, some of the pleasures of foreign travel. MEMORIES OF A RED-LETTER SUMMER. CHAPTER I. OUR ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND. And so. one lovely May morning- in the year of our Lord 1900. a happy family group, we stepped on board the good ship that was to be our home for a week, and as we were swung out of the harbor at New York, and saw the land gradually disappear, a feeling of sadness was combined with the happy pros- pects of a long antici]:>ated trip al:)road. However dear home may be, still there is implanted in e^•ery breast a longing for something be^'ond, else should we be but clods. Soon we were indeed " out on the ocean sailing," and as the shadows of evening fell our hearts were raised to Mary, " star of the sea," committing to her tender care our own fortunes and the loved ones left behind us. " Ave Sanctissima, 'tis nightfall on the sea: guard us while shadows lie dark o'er the waters spread! " And so we sailed and we sailed, until one day the spectral shadows of the eclipse fell over us, and all eyes were turned on the great phenomenon of nature 2 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. which, viewed at sea, seemed to be particularly im- pressive. Nothing occurred to relieve the monotony of the daily routine; a tracing of smok€ in the far dis- tance, indicating our nearest neighbor in a passing vessel, created the only excitement, until at last a faint line appeared, and we approached the coast of France at Cherbourg, where "many of our passengers left us directly for the great Paris exposition. Now came aboard the welcome newsboy, bringing packages of the Paris edition of the New York Herald, dating from the day of our departure, and we felt, as we greedily obtained our share, that we were once more in touch with the great half of the world behind us. Carefully guarding our precious newspapers for a favorable time to look them over, we turned our attention to the strange shores with their long lines of fortifications, the blue bloused laborers assisting in the unloading of the vast cargo of mail and baggage, and waved goodbye to the friends who boarded the puffing tender that was to carry them to the shore. At last our vessel's head was turned northward, to cross the channel, passing the beautiful Isle of Wight, with its many attractions and memories of Charles I., and soon we reached Southampton, where we disem- barked and watched with regret the graceful, reced- ing vessel continuing to Bremen. Our Arrival in England. 3 A strange feeling possessed me as I stepped first on England's shore, foreign, yet native, for from this land one of my ancestors came, while from the " Green Isle," so near, another forsook castle and lands to follow a lo\'ed husband's fortunes to the new world. In both cases their descendants later took up arms to defend their adopted country from the tyranny of King George, pledging " their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor " for the securement of the blessed liberty we no^v enjoy. Yet, we go back now, as children grown too large for parental leading strings, and defiant of parental injustice, still turn with affectionate remembrance to the old home. The \-isitor to the old world is at once brought face tc face with the mighty past. Here, at Southamp- ton, King Canute rebuked his flattering courtiers by taking his seat on the sands, and commanding the ")cean's waves to recede. Here. Philip of Spain landed when he came to England to marry Queen Mary; and here, on the only remaining gate of the city are the figures of Sir Bevis and the great giant whom he killed, Ascapard. From here, Richard of the Lion Heart led his crusade; and in 1620, the Mayflower left for America with her Puritan passengers. From here, we took the cars for London town, and found the hotels filled on account of the famous 4 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. " Darby Day." A horse belonging to " His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales," was to run, and all loyal England was on tiptoe. How lovely were the English roads, with their carefully kept thorn hedges full of snowy bloom, and the smoothly clipped lawns surrounding the comfortable, pretty homes. The fields were full of peaceful looking cattle and sheep, with their young; and we mentally contrasted the jolly crowds of both high and low degree, hurrying, in all sorts of conveyances, noisily to the racing grounds, with the poor fellows of their own blood in Southern Africa engaged in most unholy struggle ag-ainst a people contending for their liberty. Soon after this came the tidings of the fall of Pretoria, and then Lon- don ran wild. Our curiosity had led us to Epsom Downs to witness the scenes of the long heard of " Darby." but as our late arrival on the previous night had given us no time to exchange our money, the hard-hearted gatekeepers only looked askance at our beautiful American gold pieces, and we were obliged to return without witnessing the races; feeling, how- evei, well compensated for our disappointment, by the amusement the outside had allforded us. The next morning being Sunday, and the bells calling to holy Mass, we went to Kensington, to the Oratory of St. Philip Neri, the church of the famous Our Arrival in England. 5 Cardinal Newman, a fine statue of whom stands near the door, and whose life has been compared to those of Saints Ambrose and Augustine. His secession from the Protestant Church, after a long and bitter struggle, and his reception into the Catholic fold in 1845, when he said, "To apprehend the ancient church as a fact, is either to be a Catholic or an infidel." was described years afterwards, by Lord Beaconsfield. as " a blow from which the Church of England still reeled." Mr. Gladstone, England's " Grand Old Man," referring to this event, said: " It has never yet been estimated at its full importance." In 1879 he was created Cardinal, and his master mind illuminated the literary and religious world of the centur)'. His beautiful verses, " Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom," written about this time, have been loved and quoted by thousands, both in and out of the Church, and his influence has led many souls out of doubt and despondency into the blessed ha\-en of rest, in perfect trust and truth. How sad for many who do not accept the lead- ing of the " kindly light " that would guide them, but for human respect, for pride, or self-interest, they ignore it, or hesitate under the shadow of ritualism! " So near the gleaming, kindly light. So near the path to lead them home ; So near the aid of priestly rite, So near the outstretched arms of Rome." 6 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Like a weak Catholic was the Lord Mayor of London, a few years ago, who said he would attend the Protestant churches in his official capacity, and some one inquired of him if he should die in office, would he do so privately or officially. The community at ' the Oratory is under obe- dience, but without vows. It was introduced into England in 1847 by the then Father Newman, under Father Faber, also a convert. The church is mag- nificent. Among the numerous side chapels is one of particular note, in honor of the Seven Dolors of the Blessed Virgin. An inscription on a tablet reads: "This altar was erected by Flora, Duchess of Norfolk, who died in 1887, to the Mother of Sorrows, that they who mourn may be comforted." Opposite is the inscription: "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." There is a picture of the " Mater Dolorosa," her heart transpierced by seven swords, representing her "seven sorrows," and above all a copy of the entombment of our Lord. Truly the pious Duchess was afflicted in her hoped-for son, heir to the oldest and greatest of names and titles, being a helpless paralytic, and indeed a hopeless one, save by the intervention of a miracle, for which both she and her equally pious husband have appealed unceasingly to high heaven, by pilgrimages and vows and charities. The altar Our Arrival iji Biiglaiid. 7 of the patron of the church, St. Philip Neri, was donated by Henry. Duke of Norfolk. Five silver hanging lamps are votive offerings in memory of Alexander Gordon Lennox, who died in 1892. In the sanctuary the floor is of the finest inlaid wood; this, with the ivory inlaid stalls, was the gift of Anne, Dowager Duchess of Argyll. The gilt canopy is a copy of that suspended in the shrine of St. Anthony in Padua. The surrounding paintings are very fine; the frieze and molding of gold mosaic are inscribed in blue letters, " My house should be called a house of prayer, saith the Lord." The pair of branched lamps are after those on the arch of Titus, taken from Jerusalem; the marble stands bearing the arms of the donor, the noble convert. Marquis of Bute, whose conversion created such a sensation in Eng- land that Beaconsfield, Lord Disraeli, made him a character in one of his novels. INIexican onyx faces the walls of St. Wilfrid's chapel, and the i^anels are occupied by pictures of the English Saints Wini- fred, Gregory, Bede, Edward, Alban and Thomas a-Becket. In the seventh century St. Wilfrid founded a Benedictine Monastery at Ripon, and his noble soul was well fitted for the moral combat he had to wage against crime in high places. The Lady Altar is another fine jiiece of work. The Oratory profited 8 Memories of a Red-Letter- Summer. by the persecution of the church in Italy, when church property was confiscated. This fine altar of Carrara marble was purchased for £16,000, and con- veyed to England. The Purgatorian Altar brings our hearts to the »Suffering Souls. Cardinal New- man, in his " Dream of Gerontius," beautifully de- picts the doctrine of the church on this subject. The walls of the chapel to St. Patrick are of Irish marble, erected by the confraternity. A statue of St. Peter is a reproduction of that in St. Peter's in Rome. I have only noted a few of the main points in this grand Oratory, raised by the faithful for the refreshing of the weary souls of life's pilgrims. Here, from the busy streets, one may enter an atmosphere of peace and prayer, and the soul is lifted above earthly dross and pain by the contemplation of things heavenly, conscious ever of the Sacred Presence. One of the English daily papers, giving an account of the funeral of Lord Russell, the great Chief Justice, occurring here during our trip to Scot- land, says: " They kept strange vigils with Catholic fidelity to the dead, who watched all night beside the coffin of the Lord Chief Justice, while the four high tapers around the catafalque flickered upon the ghostly shadows of the vast nave, and the silent mys- tery of the altar was touched with sanctuary gleams. . Until those obscure hours, when all prayers are sighs. Our Arriz'al in England. g were penetrated !)}• the dawn, the great Oratory was the solemn vestibule of eternity. This was the pre- lude to the Requiem for Lord Russell of Killoween." During our stay in London, quite lengthy for tourists, we made frequent visits here, as the most convenient to our hotel, and I look back with deep affection to the restful hours spent in the Brompton Oratory, with its many sacred associations. Out from these peaceful walls into London's busy streets, where the living hurry and jostle in the daily struggle for existence, or for power, how iew ever give thought to the fact that beneath their cease- less tread lies the dust of so much greatness, and that the vast city, civilized under the mild sway of the cross, was once the scene of Roman contention and conquest. Roman London lies about eighteen feet below the present surface. Discoveries have been made, during excavations, of pavements, of tombs, statues, coins, ornaments and weapons, and, over all, ashes as if from fires. The London of the Britons lies yet beneath all this. We visited the Houses of Parliament, but they were not in session. The Houses of Lords and Com- mons are separated by a hall, the Queen's throne C(jmmanding a \'iew of both houses. We stood where Charles L was tried and sent to the block. On the tower is the great clock, whose dial measures lo Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. ninety-two feet in circumference, and requires five hours to wind. The bell weighs thirteen tons, and is known as "Big Ben." In the House of Commons we were told of the Mace — a club-like emblem of the Speaker's dignity, and always in his custody. It is borne on the shoulder of the sergeant-at-arms, and there is no business transacted in its absence. We regarded with becoming respect the London Bank, the " Old Lady of Threadneedle Street," and just here will remark what we learned in our banking experience. When we asked for gold money, it was scooped on to scales and weighed — then we could count it, to be sure. One thousand sovereigns weigh twenty-one pounds, and their notes, printed on white paper and used only once, require five hundred and twelve to weigh one pound. The site of London Bank is said to have been once occupied by a Roman palace. Steerage Passengers. CHAPTER II. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Over the ruins of a temple to Diana rose " Paul's Cross," as the seat of the Bishop, while farther west rose a Benedictine Monastery, Westminster. St. Paul's has risen phoenix-like from the great fire of London in 1666, commanding attention from histo- rical interest and as a triumph of architectural art; but Westminster holds our affection. We spent much time in wandering through its dim aisles and cloisters, and peopling it with those whose dust lies below. Here is a perpetual sermon against the folly of attaching the heart to the pomps and vanities of life. This grand old pile, the fruit of patient lal)or of hand and brain for centuries, is now a vast cemetery. The vaulted ceilings, that once resounded with praise and prayer, now echo back the footsteps of the vis- itor, be he but the careless sight-seer, the reverent antiquarian, or the pious Christian bent on homage to the saintly relics still remaining here in spite of the vengeful wrath of the fanatical destroyer. No longer burns here the perpetual lamp, cheer- ing the heart of the worshiper as indicating the Sacred Presence of our Divine T^ord! It was extincruished 12 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. centuries ago. Shall it ever be re-lighted? Services of the Church of England are held here, and a Cath- olic entering Westminster feels as one who, entering his father's house, finds another in possession. Tra- dition carries the first foundation back to the early days of the introduction of Christianity into Great Britain by St. Augustine, when the See of Canter- bury was instituted. Mellitus, a noble Roman, con- secrated first Bishop of London, and Sebert, King of the East Saxons, began the church. His tomb is here, dated 6i6. We also hear of a fisherman ferry- ing over a stranger on the evening before the dedi- cation, who proved to be St. Peter; the church was lighted up and angel choirs singing. Edward the Confessor next added to it. He was buried in front of the altar in 1066. So much beloved was he, that kings, nobles and all great men vied in honoring his memory and desired sepulture near him. He was canonized, and events of miraculous nature occur- ring at the time of the changing of his tomb, proved his sanctity. From the days of William the Conqueror to Vic- toria, every sovereign has been crowned here. The coronation chair incloses the famous stone of Scone. It is said to be the stone on which Jacob rested his head at Bethel; carried to Egypt, thence to Spain, thence to Ireland, where it is said to have pillowed Coronation Chair, Westminster Abbey. Westminster Abbey. 13 the head of the d}'ing St. Cokimba. It was placed on Tara's Hill, and Irish kings were crowned on it. It was said to gToan if the claimant were of royal blood, but remained silent if he were not. It was received in Scotland about the year 850 and depos- ited in the Monastery of Scone. Upon it the Scot- tish monarchs were crowned. When Edward the First overran Scotland, the stone was seized and car- ried to England, and deposited in Westminster in 1297. A magnificent chair was made to contain it, and it still stands there, battered indeed by time and the abuse of visitors, before it was more carefully guarded. On coronation occasions it is covered by cloth of gold. It has never been taken from the Abbey but once, and that was when Oliver Cromwell was installed Protector. The Abbey suffered from his soldiers in the demolition of grand and beautiful works of art of all descriptions. The once magnifi- cent shrine of Edward the Confessor, with its gold, silver, precious stones and curious mosaics, is now l)ut a bare structure. Still it stands high above all, the center of pious ]:)ilgrimages. The fine tomb of Henry the Fifth, the hero of Agincourt, close by, had the solid silver head knocked of¥, and the sheets of gold that covered the efifigy were torn from it. Of him Shakespeare wrote: " I lung be the heavens in black," etc. 14 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Edward the First lies near, and the good Queen Maud, or Matilda, who by her marriage with Henry the First united the Norman and Saxon lines. It is recorded of her that in Lent she would walk bare- footed from her palace to the shrine, clothed in a hair garment, aild spend long hours in prayer and penance. • Here also lies Eleanor of Castile, in whose honor crosses were raised w^herever her body rested on the way to the tomb. The last of these is Char- ing Cross. She accompanied her husband, Edward the First, on his crusades, and once saved his life by sucking the poison from a wound. Here, too, are Katherine of Valois, the ancestress of the Tudors; and Philippa, so beloved of her hus- band, Edward HI., that after her death and that of his son, the Black Prince, his fortunes failed, and he died broken hearted and neglected. Near by is the chapel of Henry the Seventh, once " Lady Chapel," built by him as a burial place for himself and family, where Masses could be said for his soul, " pperpetually, forever, while the world shall endure." This w^as once magnificent and adorned with curious emblems. By his grave is a bronze dragon, that asserted his claim to descent from King Arthur, and a crown on a bush, commemorating his hasty crown- ing on Bosworth field with the crown of Richard. Westminster Abbey. 15 found on a bush, and many other emblems significant of his rank. The carvings on doors and ceilings, and all the works generally, are most admirable. High up still remain stone statues of the saints; while along the walls are the seats of the Knights of the Bath, each with his coat-of-arms and banner above. The " reformers " made sad work of this mag- nificent place when they began the spoliation of the Abbey, at its dissolution by Henry VHL, with all other religious houses. At the head of Henry the Seventh's toml) lies James I. of England, son of the unhappy Mary, Queen of Sects. After her death by the headman's ax, at Fothcringay, in 1587. her body was interred at Peterborough Cathedral, but James, after his accession to England's throne, had it re- moved to Westminster, where he had the same honors paid to Queen Elizabeth and his " dearest mother." A facsimile of his letter hangs on the screen by the toml). They lie opposite each other, and beneath Elizabeth is the body of her half-sister, Mary, daughter of Catherine of Aragon. In this chapel also lies the l)0(ly of Edward VI., son of Henry the Eighth and Jane Seymour. At his funeral was first used the burial service of the Eng- lish Church. He died at sixteen. Council under him ordered the " purging of the library of all mis- 1 6 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. sals, legends and superstitious volumes." The tomb of the mother of Henry Seventh is- surmounted by her effigy, most beautiful. Her life was full of good works. Her funeral sermon was preached by her friend and confessor. Bishop Fisher, afterwards be- headed by her grandson, Henry VHI. The eulogy- was a model of concise and perfect praise, " Every one who knew her loved her, and everything she did became her." The bodies of the young princes murdered in the Tower were found at the foot of a staircase, and removed here by order of Charles H. This chapel has been described as " sown with the dust of kings," for beneath the pavement lie many royal bodies of lesser note and many children. Here, also, is the tomb of General Monk, Oliver Cromwell's aid, close to that of his royal master, Charles H., whom he aided in restoring. A tablet to Oliver Cromwell marks where his body laid, together with some of the prominent leaders of the commonwealth; but at the Restoration they were dug up, thrown into a' lime pit, and their skulls set on Westminster Hall. Here lie, also, many clergy and confessors for the faith. The Abbey begun in early ages, adorned by the patient labor of loving hands and gifted with pre- cious offerings befitting the house of God, has wit- nessed many stormy scenes. Westminster Abbey. 17 Attila's hordes had at least the apology of being heathen, but here, under the guise of religion, hun- dreds of years later both Thomas and Oliver Crom- well's men destroyed works of art, rifled the shrines, burned in ignorant hatred precious manuscripts, the result of patient labor of studious and learned monks, and committed many other sacrilegious outrages. Of the old painted windows but little escaped; such pieces as could be recovered were made into a kind of patchwork by the respecters of antiquity. Dean Stanley deserves special mention for this care, and he. too, lies in the Abbey. Edwin, the first Abbot, lies in the ancient chapter house. Part of a stairway yet remains by which the monks used to descend at night into the church to pray. The Abbey had a ghost in the person of Brad- shaw, who died in 1659. He presided at the tribunal which condemned Charles I. He lived a while by permission in a little chamber in the corner. The last coronation by Catholic rites was that of Eliz- abeth; the last Requiem Mass w-as Queen Mary's, excepting one for Charles V. of Germany, soon after- wards, by order of Elizabeth. This ca])ricious Queen was a queer compound, one day attending holy Mass, another giving orders for wholesale persecutions. A victim of remorse, she died flung on her cushions on the floor. In the Louvre Gallerv, in Paris, we saw 1 8 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. a most terrible and realistic depiction of the last sad scene. In Westminster, Nelson craved a tomb, but while he has here an effigy in wax, he is buried in St. Paul's, inclosed in a wooden coffin, made from a mast of the Orient, underneath a magnificent sarco- phagus made by order of Wolsey for his own inter- ment, but confiscated with his other properties when he had fallen under the displeasure of his royal master, Henry VIII. No one knows where the monks buried Wolsey, the broken-hearted Cardinal. En route to the Tower for imprisonment, on the charge of treason, illness compelled him to stop at the Abbey of Leicester, and to the monks who met him he said: " I am come to lay my bones among you. Had I but served my God as diligently as I have served the King, He would not have given me over in my gray hairs." In St. Paul's also lies England's other great sol- dier, Wellington. In Westminster are remembered, if not buried, the world's brightest literary lights, from Chaucer, born about 1340, whose " Canterbury Tales " still delight all readers, down through five hundred years. Among them Spenser, of the "Faerie Queen," laureate under Elizabeth. A number of his contemporaries, including Shakespeare, dropped into his grave eulogies on him, together with the pens with which they were IVestiiiinstcr Abbey. 19 written. Burns, whose l)0(ly lies in his own l^eloved Scotland, has here a memorial; and Dryden, so well known by his " Hind and Panther," written after his conversion to Catholicity. Cowper and George Her- bert have a memorial window placed by our own gen- erous compatriot, George W. Childs. There is a bust to Milton, whose body lies in St. Giles' Churchyard, and a bust to Shakespeare, who lies in the church at Stratford on Avon. Some suppose that the reason why his body has never been brought here is out of respect to the words of his epitaph: " Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare To dig the dust enclosed heare," etc. Our own Longfellow has a bust from his English admirers, and Thackera^• a memorial, but his body lies at Kensal Green. There is a bust to Gray, who lies at Stoke Pogis, the scene of his " Elegy in a Country Churchyard." Wordsworth has a statue, but is buried at Grasmere, his old home, whose sur- roundings are woven in so many of his sweet poems. Here, too, is Thomas Campbell, whose " Hohenlin- den " was the delight of my childhood, and is always associated with a little, chubby, rosy-cheeked boy, whose favorite recitation it was. Ifis black eyes would sparkle under the inspiration of the martial words, little dreaming that one day his fate wotdd be as those for whom '" the snow should be their wind- 20 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. ing- sheet " when he fell in the conflict between the North and the South in our own Civil War. There is a memorial of Sir Walter Scott, whose body lies in Dryburgh Abbey, near his Scottish home; Robert Southey, once laureate; Coleridge, of "Ancient Mariner" fame; Thomson, of the "Sea- sons" ; while side by side lie Browning and Tennyson, late laureate. His last verses are so beautiful: "Sunset and evening star and one clear call for me, And may there be no moaning of the bar when I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving, seems asleep, too much for sound and foam. When that which drew from out the soundless deep, turns again home. "Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark. And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark. For, though from out our bourne of time and place the flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face, when I have crossed the bar." " Rare Ben Jonson," the friend of Shakespeare, is buried standing on his feet. There is a statue of Joseph Addison, of the Spectator, who died in 1719, " the noblest purifier of English literature." At his death, after lying in state in the Jerusalem chamber of the Abbey, his body was carried at night, by torch- light, around the shrine of the "Confessor," while the IVestniinsier Abbey. 21 choir sang a funeral hymn, and was deposited in the Henry Seventh's chapel. Here lie Macaulay, the his- torian, Charles Dickens, the beloved of all readers, and Sheridan, of the " Rivals." These are names most familiar in the " Poets' Corner." Strange to say, among all these brilliant lights lies the body of ■' Old Parr," who died in 1635, aged one hundred and fifty-two years, having lived in the reigns of ten sovereigns. In this neighborhood also is Anne of Cleves, one of Henry Eighth's wives, who died a Catholic, and was buried here by the monks; and it is believed that the wife of Richard the Third is also buried here. Among the statesmen are William Pitt, so famil- iar in our own revokitionary history; Grattan, the great defender of Ireland, and his devoted friend, Charles James Fox. England's Prime Ministers, Palmerston. Peel, Disraeli, also a great writer, and Gladstone, the " Grand Old Man." During our stay in London his wife, aged eighty-eight years, died, and was laid in her husband's tomb. The burial was pri- vate. The account read : " The proceedings were as simple as possible, the coffin of plain oak, and there was an utter absence of display. As the body was lowered into the grave, one could not help recalling the pathetic incident of two years ago, when this woman, now gone to join him, sat at the font of her 22 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. husband's open grave, a bowed and weeping figure." The anthem sung was, " Their bodies are buried in peace, but their name liveth for evermore." Besides a telegram from the Queen to the bereaved daughter, the Prince and Princess sent a wreath with verse, breathing the gentle soul of the Princess so much beloved: "In Memory of Dear Mrs. Gladstone: " It is but crossing Avith a bated breath And white set face, a little strip of sea, To find the loved one waiting on the shore, More beautiful, more precious than before. " Alexandra." Here is Cavendish, first Duke of Newcastle, whose devotion to Charles I. cost him nearh^ a mil- lion pounds. Warren Hastings has a monument, but is not buried here. His eulogy, by Macaulay, is very beautiful: " With all his faults, and they were neither few nor small, only one cemetery was worthy to contain his remains. In that temple of silence and reconciliation, where the enmities of twenty genera- tions lie buried, in the great Abbey, which has in so many ages afforded a quiet resting place to those whose minds and bodies have been shattered by the great Hall, the dust of the illustrious accused should mingle with the dust of the illustrious accusers." The Westminster Abbey. 23 trial of Warren Hastings in Westminster Hall occu- pied seven years, and brought him financial disaster. but he was at length unanimously acquitted of the charges brought by his enemies, and closed his days in honorable retirement, being provided for by the West India Company. He was buried at Daylesford with his people. Here lie Richard Cobden, the champion of free trade and the repeal of the corn laws; Sir Thomas Hardy, the excellent soldier, present at Nelson's death; and Major John Andre, who was hanged by Washington as a spy in 1780. For forty years his body lay on the banks of the Hudson, and was then transferred here. The chest is shown which was used in place of a coffin, to disarm the superstitions of the sailors. On the monument is a bas relief of Wash- ington receiving the petition in which Andre begged for a soldier's death by shooting, instead of a felon's death by hanging. A wreath of autumn leaves, an American offering, is over his monument. Side by side lie Herschel, the astronomer, and Sir Isaac New- ton, the great mathematician and formulator of the law of gravity. A slab on the floor bears the name of Darwin, whose theories of evolution have caused much discussion. George Peabody, the great Amer- ican philanthropist, rested here a while, and was then removed to his native Massachusetts. Stephenson, 24 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. the great engineer, and James Watt, the improver of the steam engine ; and Livingstone, the great Afri- can explorer, who died in Africa, and was carried by his faithful servants to the coast, where his body was shipped to England to be interred here. A monu- ment to Sir John Franklin, the Arctic explorer, con- tains a beautiful inscription from Tennyson's pen: ■' Not here! the white north has thy bones; and thou, Heroic sailor soul, Art passing on thy happier voyage now, ' Toward no earthly pole." The persistence of his devoted wife, in organizing searching parties for him, has made his name and hers household words and enlisted the world's sym- pathies. There is a memorial to John Wesley, the father of Methodism, buried at Marylebone; and Wilber- force, the philanthropist; General Wolfe, who fell at Quebec, and has there a joint monument with his brave opponent, Montcalm, who has here also a monument, but is buried at Greei\vvich. Among the musicians are Balfe, the Irish composer; Henry Pur- cell, once organist of Westminster, of whom Dry den wrote: " He has left this life and gone to that blessed place, where only his harmony can be exceeded." Another organist and composer, IJr. William Croft, has the inscription on his tomb: '' He emigrated to IVesttninstcr Abbey. 25 the hea\'enly choir, \\ith that concert of angels, for which he was better fitted, ackhng" his hallehijah." Hantlel has a fine statue, and beneath it is a l)ust to Jenny Lind Goldschniidt. who so weh niterpreted his music. Among dramatists and actors are Congreve. considered Shakespeare's only rival; Anne Oldfield, whose fame as the greatest actress of her day has come down to the present; Barton Booth, ancestor of the American Booths; Beaumont, David Garrick, Mrs. Siddons and her brother. John Kemljle; Barry, the tragedian of 1777; and Mrs. Bracegirdle, noted in both the dramatic and political world. While on the subject of great men and w^omen of England, I will mention beside the tombs of Wellington and Nelson, in St. Paul's, the ri\al in antiquity of foundation of Westminster, lie also John of Gaunt; the painter Van Dyck, who was in England the last nine years of his life by request of King Charles; General Gordon; Ilallam, the historian; General Brock, killed at Oueenstown, Canada, i(Si2; Sir John Moore; the ])ainters Turner and Reynolds; General Pakenham, defeated at Xew Orleans in 181 5 by General Jack- son; and Lords Howe and Cornwallis, both of whom figured so largely in our struggle for independence. Here also lies Sir Christojiher Wren, the great archi- tect, under the canopy of this most fitting monument to his genius, the great v^t. Paul's. Returning to f 2) 26 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Westminster, I must recall that this once possessed the right of sanctuary, which was abolished by James the First. By this right the Oneen of Edward the Fourth twice took refuge here. On the first occa- sion her son, Edward V., was born and baptized, and the second time, thirteen years later, she returned with her young children, fleeing from the Duke of Gloucester. She- was persuaded to give them up to their uncle, who later had them murdered in the Tower. I was told that Westminster once contained the quaint and very true old epitaph: "How now, who is heare? I, Robin of Doncastire, And Margaret, my feare, That I spent, that I had, That I gave, that I have, That I left, that I lost." But we were too much interested in the personality, so to speak, of the tombs, to search for something merely curious. On one of our visits to the Abbey we noted a Chinese woman in native costume come in and kneel with rosary in hand to recite her pray- ers. To those interested in the burials of royalty I will mention that in the vaults of Windsor Palace, just out of London, lie the bodies of Henry VIII. and one of his Queens, Jane Seymour, and the beheaded JVcst)}iinster Abbey. 27 Charles I. Byron says: '* By headless Charles, see heartless Henry lies." Here lie Kings Edward IV., Henry V^L, George HI., William IV., George IV. and his only child, the mnch l)emoaned Princess Charlotte. I have Init touched on the names and incidents most familiar to the casual reader. I always love to stroll among the resting places of the dead, be the}" great or humble, and Gray's " Elegy " runs through m\- mind. Especially appropriate here are these lines: " Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ! Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust. Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ! The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power, And all that Beauty, all that Wealth e'er gave. Await alike the inevitable hour. The path of glory leads but to the grave !" Longfellow also writes so beautifully of the dead: " Take them, O Grave ! and let them lie Folded upon ihy narrow shelves, As garments by the soul laid by. And precious only to ourselves." Westminster memories crowd thick and fast on one who, like myself, has in youth studied history onlv through tiic narrowest of Calvinistic spectacles. Henrv the iCighth was once a pions child of the Church, when learning llounshcd, and the bodies as 28 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. well as the minds of his people were cared for; but his baser passions led to the destruction of this state of prosperity, uprooting of schools and colleges; pulling down and confiscating for himself and his favorites what years of labor had erected, his title as " Defender of the Faith '' became a mockery. On his own brow he placed the crown of spiritual su- premacy. Green's EiiglisJi History says: " All that men saw was politicar and religious chaos, in which ecclesiastical order had perished, and in which poli- tics was diving down into the squabbles of a lot of nobles over the spoils of the Church and crown. Divinity ceased to be taught in the universities, stu- dents fell off in numbers, libraries were scattered and burned, and the intellectual impulse died away." Hallani, the historian, writes: " The most striking effect of the first preaching of the Reformation was that it appealed to the ignorant." The historian Spelman writes that when Henry's Council was slow o\er passing one of his bills, he angrily said: " I will have that bill pass, or I will have some of your heads." Of course the bill was passed. The apostate Bishop Cranmer did his spir- itual bidding, while Thomas Cromwell, low born and bred, was the fitting tool to enforce anything else. Monasteries founded by such a good king as Alfred, and his tutor, St. Swithin, were speedily undone by Westminster Abbey. 29 this other jiair. As one exam])le alone of the occu- pation of the monks in what is called the Dark Ages, the most beautiful \olume in the Congressional Lil)rary in ^^^ashing■ton is a Bible transcribed in the sixteenth century by a poor, unknown monk. Writ- ten on parchment in German text, the lettering is so perfect that even a magnifying glass fails to detect any irregularity. So in the British Museum I have seen examples of similar work, some of the few rescued from the destruction so general then. TJic BibliograpJicr says: " The Religious Orders used to have almost the monopoly of copying l:)Ooks. as few laymen possessed the requisite skill. The Car- thusians made it one of their chief labors for sup- port. In the Abbeys a certain room was set apart, called the Scriptorium, for this purpose, and here the monks doing this work met every day. The Missals, Bibles, and books reciuiring the greatest skill and learning, were only executed by priests of mature years and experience. The monks were enjoined to work in strict silence, to avoid distraction, and guard against errors in grammar or spelling. Every pos- sible precaution was taken to secure strict accuracy. Some illuminatcrl the co]:)ies, while others again bound them. Tn the Cotton Library is a copy of the Gospels, written by Eadfud. Bishoji of Durham. The illuminations, capital letters and jiicturcs of the 30 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. evangelists were skillfully executed by his successor, Ethelwold, and the Avhole bound by Bilfud, the Anchorite, with gold and silver plates and precious stones." Cobbett writes: "That the ruffians of Thomas Cromwell, to whom Henry VIII. had given license, tore down altars to get the gold and silver, tore off the covers of books, all manuscript, that had been ornamented with the precious metals. Single books that had taken, in many cases, half a long lifetime to compose and copy, whole libraries, that had taken ages to get together and cost immense sums of money, were scattered abroad by them when they had robbed the rich covers of their ornaments." But let the waves of persecution dash as they will against the rock on which the Church of God is founded, all must come at length to agree with Macaulay's tribute. He says: "She was great and respected before the Saxon had set foot in Britain, before the Frank had passed the Rhine; when Gre- cian eloquence still flourished in Antioch, when idols were still worshiped in the temple of Mecca; and she may still exist in undiminished vigor, when some trav- eler from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of »St. Paul's." A few years ago Lord Salisbury, a good Church Ji\^sfjiiiiistcr Abbey. 31 of Eiii^-land man, said: "The ,£^reat and beneficent Reformation itself was set rolling in England because Henry A^III. got tired of his wife and fell in love with her maid." The Protestant rector. Dr. Jesso]). sa\'S. among other things equalh- just: "The religious houses were then, as now, hives of industry. Every- thing that was made or used in a monastery was pro- duced on the spot. The grain grew on their own land, the corn was ground in their own mill; their clothes were made from the wool of their own sheep. They had their own tailors, shoemakers, carpenters and l)lacksmiths; they kept their own bees, they grew their own garden stuff and their own fruit; they knew more of fish culture than we moderns; they grew grapes and made their own wine. No traveler of any degree was refused food or shelter; the mere keeping of their accounts re({uire(l a number of clerks, for every nail was accounted for; they could not have l)een idle to do this in such a minute manner to the fraction of a farthing.'' Macaulay pays this tribute to the Jesuits: " They were to be found spade in hand, teaching the rudi- ments of agriculture to the inhabitants of Paraguay, perfecting themselves in the language, translating books, caring for the sick and instructing children." " The Jesuits have always been the pioneers of civi- lization and Christianit\'. In their foreign missions. 32 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. they first make the savages men, and then make the men Christians." The Cathoh'c clergy have ahvays befriended the poor, ahvays advocated peace and submission to proper authorities. Note the noble conduct of Car- dinal Manning as he stood between capital and labor on the London docks, representing the Church in all ages. Papers of twelve years ago say that, of the one hundred thousand strikers, but one-fourth were of his faith. - CHAPTER III. THE TOWER OF LONDON. 'J'his ancient l)nilcl!ng stands on Tower Hill, on the banks of the Thames. From articles found in making" excavations, it apj^ears of Roman origin. In Shakespeare's Richard Sccoiui, he makes the Queen refer to it as " Julius Caesar's ill erected tower." Under William the Conqueror it was continued for the purpose of defending the city, and served as fort- ress, prison and palace of kings. A moat, now dry, once surrounded it, and from the ri\'er the Traitors' Gate was much used for landing prisoners. We stood for a moment, to imagine the scene of unfor- tunates entering to their doom. How man\' ha\-e passed this arch with bursting hearts, uncertain of their sentence, perhaps for mere imprisonment, per- haps to the block! To this fate passed two miserable Queens of Henry VHT.. Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. The Bloody Tower was the scene of the murder of the infant Princes by order of tlieir uncle, the Duke of Gloucester. Under its stairway, marked by a plate, their remains were found, and buried in Westnu'nster. The most ancient ]).'n-t, the Wakefield To\\er, is now the rei)ository of the crown jewels. Among these is first noted the crown of \'ictoria. 34 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. weighing over thirty-nine ounces. One of the jewels is a large rub}^ given to the Black Prince in Spain in 1367, and worn by Henry V. in his helmet at Agin- court. It contains twenty-seven hundred diamonds, seven sapphires and eight emeralds. St. Edward's crown is here, also his staff, a golden scepter, four feet seven inches long, and said to contain a frag- ment of the true Cross. There are badges of knighthood; the Sword of Mercy, pointless; the royal baptismal font and plate used on different sacramental occasions; the royal scepter and crowns belonging to different sovereigns; a recess, shown as a chapel used by Henry IV., and the scene of his murder. Adjoining this Tower once stood a hall used at the trial of Anne Boleyn. The White Tower was built by the " Conqueror " partly from an old Roman city wall, which had been con- tinued by King Alfred in 885. Many illustrious pris- oners have lodged here, among them David, King of Scots, John, King of France, and the Duke of Orleans, captured at Agincourt by Henry V. Here Richard Second signed his abdication in 1399. The chapel of St. John was used by William the Conqueror and family, and the state apartments were reached by a narrow, winding stairway. But one or two fireplaces have been found, and the whole place is more of the nature of a prison than a palace; and The Toivcr of London. 35 even during our summer \'isit we shuddered at the bleak surrounchngs in the dark stone rooms. "Ban- quet halls" and "ro}al chambers" seemed Init mock- ing appellations. From here monarchs proceeded to Westminster for coronation. The Armory contains a curious col- lection of articles used in ancient and modern war- fare. The armorers of early date, chiefly German and Italian, were most ingenious workmen. When we examined the curious and intricate armor and remem ■ berecl that every part was labor of the hands, we won- dered at the careful, unique productions. Mounted figures display protection for both horse and man, and it seemed incredible that human strength was equal to the burden of the armor and the immense implements (if ^^■arfare — spears, battle-axes, swords and helmets. It is possil)le, though, that only the rich were able to afford this expensive work, as leath- ern and f|uilted protection is also seen. One figure is especially noticeable, the " Crusader " co\-ered with chain mail. The Ja])anese were also most ingenious workmen in this art. Coming down to the use of gunpowder, old cannon are noticed here, being formed of stri])S of iron welded together and encircled with hoops. One old gun is from the wreck of the "Mary Rose." sunk in 15.15 during an engagement with the l-'rench. 36 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Here is the cloak worn by General Wolfe at his death in Quebec, in 1759; also the block and ax used at the beheading of Lord Lovat in 1747, for his siding with the Pretender, and marks of the ax are on the block. Here are also instruments of torture — a not very creditable exhibition, since they have been admittedly added to for effect. In the Queen's House, now occupied as the Lieu- tenant's lodgings, is the door through which Lord Nithsdale, disguised as a woman, escaped in 1741, the night before he was to have been executed In one of the rooms Guy Fawkes, accused of the famous " Gunpowder Plot," was examined in 1605. Adjoining is the house occupied by Lady Jane Grey during her imprisonment, and here she is said to have ^een her husband's headless body carried by, while the scaffold was prepared for her own execution, in 1554. The Royal Chapel contains the tombs of herself and husband, Lord Guilford Dudley, several Scotch Lords beheaded for their share in the rebel- lion under the Pretender in 1745, the Dukes of Monmouth, Somerset, Northumberland; also the Queens, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. The Tower green, in front of this chapel, was the place of execution; and here also suffered Jane, Viscountess Rochford, in 1542, and Robert, Earl of Essex, in 1601. The Tozi'cr of London. 37 But sad as were the memories connected with these spots, where ambition, revenge and other human passions he buried, the place most appeahng to the heart was the Beauchamp Tower. Dark and gloomy, it was Hghted only by sHts in the walls, until some years ago a large window was opened for light- ing the main apartment, converted into a mess room. The walls are covered with inscriptions, carved by the unhappy prisoners to while away the sad hours of their confinement, while awaiting death or whatever the caprice of those in power should dictate. Entering the door, we see the name of Paslew and the words, " My hope is in Christ." The name of Robert Dudley appears, created Earl of Leicester by Elizal)eth, once so hig"h in her favor as to hope for her hand; again, so far under her displeasure as to be here a prisoner. He finally died at his castle of Kenil worth, around which spot Sir Walter Scott wove one of his most charming romances. The name of Peveral, with curious device, em- bracing a cross, a death-head and arms of the Pever- als, seems to mark him a religious prisoner under Elizabeth. Further on, the same armorial bearings, three wheat sheaves, are again seen, and a cross in- serted in a heart, showing another member of the family a ])risoner. The name of William Tyrcll. 1541. with a shield; 38 Memories of a Red-Letter Slimmer. is supposed to be a Knight of Malta, who wrote to the Prior in London of some irregularities of another Knight. The Latin inscription reads: " Since for- tune has chosen that my hope should go to the wind to . complain, I wish the time were destroyed; my planet being ever sad and unpropitious." Another inscription reads: " The more suffering for Christ in this world, the more glory with Christ in the next. Thou hast crowned him with honor and glory, O Lord! In memory everlasting he will be just." Arundel, June 22, 1587. This was Philip Howard, son of the Duke of Norfolk, who died in 1573. The name Arundel was from his mother. As he was a devoted Catholic, it was easy to bring accusations against him; among others, that of harboring priests and having Mass for the success of the Spanish Armada. Although Hhzabeth spared his life, he was confined to prison, not even being permitted to see his wife and infant son, who was born after his incar- ceration. She offered him liberty to renounce his faith, but he refused, and died a prisoner in 1595, aged thirty-nine years. Nearly thirty years later his body was removed to the family church; and I have heard that the late wife of the present Duke of Nor- folk, herself of a most deeply pious nature, has his skull encased in gold as a relic of a martyr. The name of John Dudley, son of the Duke of The Tozver of London. 39 Nortluiml)eiian(l, joined with his father and others tr}''ing to prevent the. succession of Queen Mary to Edward the Sixth. He was condemned, reprieved, but died in the Tower. He was, however, treated with leniency, and allowed the company of his wife and attendance of his church. The carvings he made to while awa}' his time are very interesting'; the family arms, surrounded by a wreath of oak, geranium and honeysuckle, emblematic of his brothers' names, one of them the husband of Lady Jane Grey, and four lines of quaint verse. The name of Charles Bailley, the bearer of dis- patches, in cipher, of a conspiracy in favor of Mary Queen of Scots, by some of the Scotch and English nobility; was seized, put to the rack, and confined to the Tower. He moralized thus: " Wise men ought, circumspectly, to see what they do; to examine before they speak; to j^rove before they take in hand; to beware whose com])any they use; and above all things, to whom they trust." John Store, Doctor, 1531, was a learned man, whose offense was adherence to the Catholic religion. Although over seventy years of age, he was executed. Near by is Thomas Miagh, an Irishman, of whom mention is made in a treatise on the use of torture in England. 1 Ic was seized in connection w ith the cor- respondence with rebels in h-cl;md, and rc])eatcdly 40 Memories of a Red-Letter Sunnner. tortured, but without effect. His inscription reads: " O Lord, which art of heaven King, grant gras and hfe everlasting to Miagh, thy servant, in prison." Farther on he again carves: " Thomas Miagh, which lieth here alone, That fain would from hens be gon; By torture strange my troyth was tryed, Yet of my libertie denied." 1581. The name of Poole is in several places, but ap- pears to be that of Edmund, Arthur and Geoffrey. The two former were implicated in a conspiracy for seating" Mary Queen of Scots on the English throne. Geoffrey gave evidence against his brothers. An inscription in another place of the same date, 1568, is ascribed to the Poole brothers; while Arthur Poole later carved his name and the words " I. H. S.," " To serve God, to endure penance, to oljey fate, is to reign." Another monogram tells the sad story of Dr. Abel. It consists of a bell, on which is carved the letter "A." He was the chaplain of Queen Cath- erine of Aragon, first wife of Henry VHI. For his devotion to her cause, his opposition to the divorce proceedings, and denying the King's supremacy, he was beheaded in 1540. Cardinal Pole suffered from Henry's displeasure, on account of opposing his di- vorce from Catherine, l^ut as the King could not lay hands on him, being in foreign lands, vengeance was The Tozcer of London. 41 wreaked on his unhappy mother, the Countess of SaHsbury. This aged lady, having given no cause by which they could reasonably accuse her, was sen- tenced by "attaint" — that is, condemned without trial, only on general jirinciples, — by a council imder Thomas Crom\vell. She was of royal blood, the last of the Plantagenets, and more than seventy years of age. She was carried to the scaffold, but when bidden to lay her head on the block, said: " No; my head shall never bow to tyranny; it never committed treason, and if you will have it. you must get it as you can." The executioner pursued her art)und the scaffold, striking at her with the ax. her gray locks hanging loosely, until at last he brought her down. This in Christian England! Cobbett spares no invec- tive, of which he was certainly master, in denouncing the deeds done in the name of " Reformation." An interesting device and inscription, of which, however, there is no history, is noticed mainly for the laborious effort it must have required and the registering of the agony of a sad heart. A circle contains a shield in one corner of a slab, three salmon in another, the date 1622; the name T. Salmon, the inscription, " Close ]M-isoner, three months, twelve weeks, two hundred and twenty-four days, five thou- sand three hundred and seventy-six hours." Latin inscriptions signifying " Neither rashly nor with 42 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. fear" ; encircling a star and cross, "So live that thou mayest live." Surrounding a death's head the in- scription, "Et morire ne morieris" — "And die that thou mayst not die." Adjoining this the name of Thomas Roper, 1570, and the words: " By the pain- ful passage let us pass to the pleasant port." He is supposed to be the Catholic husband of a daughter of Sir Thomas More, who was also beheaded under Henry VHI. More's body is buried in St. Peter's Church at the Tower, and his head is at St. Dunstan's Church, Canterbury. There is the name of Thomas Fitzgerald, an Irish nobleman, who was the victim of kmgly treachery and cruelty in 1538, his whole family threatened with extermination. And next Adam Sedbar, Abbot of Joreval Monastery. For opposing Henry VHL, he was, with others, executed at Tyburn, 1537. Doc- tor Cooke, 1540, Prior of Doncastle, for the same offense, was hanged, drawn and quartered in the same year. The name John Martin, and an Italian inscrip- tion, " O unhappy man that I think myself to be!" John Seymour, 1553, evidently the Seymour who was confined to the Tower in 1551 as an adherent of the Duke of Somerset. This gentleman, with Stanhope, was beheaded. The name John Prime, and inscription, " The The Toxi'cr of London. 43 word of the Lord remains," is that of a priest who suffered under Klizal)eth; also. John Colleton, priest. 1581, was a learned clerg-yman, admired by all of both religions. His wanderings, apprehensions and imprisonments exteniled over many years. He com- posed several works, an.d died at the age of eighty- five. Egremond Rad(dyffe. 1576, " to arrive at," son of the Earl of Sussex, a Catholic, and charged with high treason. He also suffered banishment, then impris- onment, and death in 1578. An interesting inscription. Init without history or explanation, is the simple word " Tane," probably that of Lad)' Jane Grey, and carved by her husband, as she was never confined in the Beauchamp Tower. Many of these who suffered for the faith are some of the " martyrs not mentioned by Fox." . Sir Walter Raleigh was imprisoned in the Tower for thirteen years for treason, which season he im- proved by literary work. Released and again impris- oned, he was finally executed in front of Westminster Palace, and lies in St. Margaret's Chapel, near by. Thomas Cromwell was the tool of Henry VHL, w'ho coolly cut off his head when lie had no further need of him. Cobbctt relates of 1'homas Cromwell, that " he rilled the tomb of St. Thomas a-liccket, de- 44 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. stroyed the tomb of King Alfred the Good, sent Sir Thomas More to the block, and in every way was the pliant tool of his master, Henry VIII." As historical research is ever brushing the cob- webs from the chronicles of these times, posterity has come to award to the great and good Sir Thomas More the justice due him. He had been Lord Chan- cellor of Henry the Eighth, but, wearied with his labors, had retired, still in favor. The King, being refused by the Pope a divorce from his good wife, Catherine of Aragon, the pliable Cranmer granted him one, and proclaimed him head of the Church. The conscience of the godly Sir Thomas More would not subscribe to this, and he was condemned to the Tower. - Every inducement was held out to him to yield; his friends, and even his son visited him in his damp and gloomy cell and pleaded with him. To his son he said: " Cease, my child, to persuade your father to an unworthy act. Tell the King I am not his enemy, but I can not obey his commands to over- turn the altars of my God." Sir Thomas More was beatified by Pope Leo XIII. in 1886. A Httle over one hundred years later was born Titus Oates, a consequence of the political and re- ligious agitation of these times. Pretending to be a convert to the Catholic faith, he entered, in turn, two Jesuit seminaries, but was expelled from both for bad The Toivcr of London. 45 conduct. He then invented a great plot, pretending that the CathoHcs were to rise, murder the King, exterminate the Protestants, burn London, and in- volved hundreds of innocent people. He found num- berless dupes and plenty of perjurers to back his scan- dalous charges. After several years reason began to dawn on the people; he was seized for perjury, stripped of his honors, sentenced to the pillory to be. whipped, and imprisoned for life. A few years after- wards he was released. One of his victims, Sir Wil- liam Howard Stafford, who was a Catholic nobleman, was beheaded. Macaulay calls it a judicial murder. He says: " During several generations the Roman Catholics were in no condition to demand reparation for injustice, and accounted themselves happy if they were permitted to live unmolested and in silence. At length, in the reign of George the Fourth, more than one hundred and forty years after the day on which the Ijlood of Stafford was shed on Tower Hill, a law annulling liis attainder was passed unanimously, re- stcjring the injured family to its ancient dignities." Green's English History says '' that Thomas Crom- w^ell's administration was the ' English terror.' By terror he mastered the King; l)y terror he ruled the people." Oliver Cromweli came later to linish up the de\astation. Cobbclt. whose llistorx of the Rcf- ornialimi holds u\) to execratit)n the deeds done in 46 Memories of a Red-Letter Swmner. England and Ireland at this period, concludes thus: "When I considered the long, long triumph of cal- umny over the religion of those to whom we owe all that we possess that is great and renowned, when duty so sacred made me speak, it would have been baseness for me to hold my tongue. To be clear of self-reproach, I pray God to save my country from further devastation, and can safely say that neither expressly nor tacitly am I guilty of any part of the cause of her ruin." He quotes many authorities, among them the London Quarterly Review of 181 1: " The world has never been so indebted to any other body of men as to the illustrious order of Benedic- tine Monks," and after long praise concludes: " The Church offered the only asylum from the evils to which every country was exposed. It was regarded as a sacred realm by men. who, though they hated one another, believed in and feared the same God, and afforded a shelter to those who were better than the world in their youth, or were weary of it in their age. The wise, as well as the timid and gentle, fled to this Goshen of God. which enjoyed its own light and calm amid darkness and storms." Even Voltaire, referring to monasteries, says: " For a long time it was a consolation to the human race that these refuges were open to those who wished to escape Goth and Vandal tyranny." CHAPTER IV. LONDON STREETS AND FOOTSTEPS OF DICKENS — BRITISH MUSEUiAI. Down Fleet Street we wandered, and thought of the many pageants and processions of different kinds that had passed over its pavement. It has ahvays been one of the main thoroughfares, and quaint old houses still occupy space on it, but they are grad- ually disappearing. Temple Bar, which separated Fleet Street from the Strand, was removed in 1878. Originally it was onlv posts and chains, but later a house was built on it. On the occasion of royal pro- cessions, the King's herald would knock loudly, de- manding admittance. The city herald would ask who desired to enter. Then the gates would open, and the Lord Mayor would advance on foot to offer the city sword to the King or Queen. The sword would then be returned to him. and he \\(nild ride up Fleet Street l^eside the royal .carriage. Queen Eliza- beth passed through the IJar w hen going to St. Paul's to return thanks for the destruction of the Spanish Armada. It was called the Golgotha of English traitors, for on its spikes were set the heads of those executed. The b(Klv of Henrv the I'ifth rested here while on 48 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. its way to Westminster Abbey; also, Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington. During this century the throng of travel was so great that the London Coun- cil decreed its removal. A column, surmounted by a dragon, now marks the spot. Close to this spot is " Childs' Bank," the oldest in London. The original sign of the " Sun and Marigold " is preserved in the bank over the door. I wondered idly how it would do to enter and announce my name, proclaiming my ancestry from a Childs family, pose as a poor relation, and see the blank and haughty stare at the presump- tion of the wild American. From Fleet Street to Holborn runs Chancery Lane. Izaak Walton once had a shop here. Around Fleet Street and the Strand are many "inns," as they are called — colleges of law. Lincoln's Inn is his- toric. The site was once occupied by the residence of Henry the Third's Chancellor, and the ancient monastery of Black Friars, given to the Earl of Lincoln. I studied the Gothic gateway for some time. It was built in 1518, and bears the arms of Sir Thomas Lovell and the date. At the corner of Chan- cery Lane once stood the older Temple. The pres- ent old Temple Church and gardens have figured in fiction. Oliver Goldsmith lies near the church, his name being sufficient epitaph. Dickens makes these gardens the scene of charm- London Streets and Footsteps of Dickens. 49 ing" little ei)isocles in his ]Mctiires of Tom Pinch, Little Rnth, and honest John Westlock. Holborn, with its (|uaint old tim1)ered houses, re- calls Lhe unfortunate genius. Thomas Chatterton, who lived and suicided here at the early age of seventeen. His pitiful shade haunts the old neighborhood, and his pauper grave has been lost in the improvements of the city; but his native town of Bristol has erected a monument to his memory. His life may be com- pared to the flight of a brilliant meteor. Wordsworth referred to him as " the marvelous boy, the sleepless soul that perished in his pride." A sketch of the short life of this poor boy moves one to tears. Certainly his youth was molded to Christian reverence when he wrote concerning some of the early dramas: " Plays made from holy tales I hold unmeet ; Let some great story of a man be sung ; When as a man we God and Jesus treat, In my poor mind we do the Godhead wrong." Driven by poverty an.d discouragement, he fell into intemperance: then his lox'c for his mother drox'c him to fits of remorse, and hnally. after destroying much of his literary work, he ended his short, sad life bv poison, in i 770. Another Inn of Cotu't. Gray's, in Ylolborn, was once monastic pro])erty, biu at the sei/unx of all such possessions l)\- 1 k'nr\ \ III., ])assed to the crown. U) 50 Memories of a Red-Letter Sutniner. Barnard's Inn, in this neighborhood, figured in the " No Popery Riots " of 1780. Dickens mentions it in this connection, and the reader of Baniaby Riidge will go with interest over these streets, where the Gordon rioters held high, bloody and fiery carnival. Newgate was wrecked in- rescuing prisoners, and as Dickens writes: " Business was quite suspended; the greater part of the shops were closed; most of the houses displayed a blue flag in token of adherence to the popular side; even the Jews in Houndsditch, Whitechapel, and those quarters, wrote on their doors: " This house is true Protestant." The crowd was the law, and never was law held in greater dread or more implicitly obeyed. At 6 in the evening the vast mob poured into Lincoln's Inn fields; and Barnard's Inn was next to the distillery burned by the mob as the property of a Catholic. This place is also mentioned in Great Expectations. Pip says: " We entered the Httle square, that looks like a burying ground. I thought it had the most dismal trees in it, and the most dismal sparrows, and the most dismal cats, and the most dismal houses I had ever seen." Even at this day London's old and winding streets are all but cheerful in this neighbor- hood. In one of these lost corners stands the " Old Curiosity Shop," which Dickens describes as " one of those receptacles for old and curious things which London Streets and Footsteps of Dickens. 51 seem to crouch in odd corners of the town and hide their musty treasures from the public eye in jealousy and distrust." We stepped into the low room, which is now a little shop, in which the dweller probably derives more profits from literary pilo-rims than the sale proper of his wares. Here we spent a little while with the ghosts of I^ittle Nell and her poor old grand- father, and fancied Ouilp and Mrs. Jarley and the other characters once visiting here. The old gabled houses of Holborn once numbered among them a famous tavern, called the " George and Blue Boar." Prisoners conducted by officers from Newgate along this way often stopped here on their way to Tyburn. Swift wrote: " As clever Tom Cinchj when the rabble was calling, Rode stately through Holborn to die of his calling, He stopped at the George for a bottle of sack. And promised to pay for it as he came back." But as he left his life at Tybiu^n, the landlord evidently lost the ])ricc of the drink. The highwayman. Jack Sheppard, had also his name connected with W'ych Street, a little way off the Strand. Tybiu'n, where criminals were executed, was close by where now stands the magnificent " Marble Arch," one of the entrances to Hyde Park. It is biu'lt of Carrara marble, and is modeled from the Arch of Constan- tine, in Rome. The grand bronze gates open into 52 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. the beautiful grounds once used by Henry VIII. and several succeeding monarchs as hunting grounds. Bigotry ran riot for many years after the so-called Reformation; even the great fire in London in 1666 was attributed to the Catholics, and the monument upreared to commemorate it bore the legend to that effect, calling forth Alexander Pope's lines: " Where London's column pointing to the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies." St. James' Palace was another of Henry VIII. 's seizures. It was once a hospital, and the surround- ing grounds he turned into a " faire park, for his greater comodotie and pleasure," now St. James Park. The "Bird-cage Walk" still retains its name as in the time of Charles II. For a long time the Park was a kind of sanctuary, the use of arms being forbidden in its limits. The gate tower bears a clock that was made in the time of George II., and had but one hand, and the dial curiously constructed. It was once removed, as too heavy for the tower, but re- placed at the petition of the neighborhood. In the palace court each new sovereign is proclaimed on his or her accession. The Horse Guards' entrance is imposing, and here on each side sit, like statues in the sentry boxes, soldiers in splendid uniforms on magnificent horses. " London Stone," a Roman relic, is preserved in London Streets and Footsteps of Dickens. 53 St. Swithiii's Church, incased 1)_v another stone within an iron raihng. It is the same as the mihary stone in the Roman Forum, from which distances were measured. Shakespeare, in Henry J ^11., makes the rehel. Jack Cade, say: " Here sitting upon London Stone. I charge and command, that, of the city's cost, the concUiit run nothing 1)ut claret wine this first }-ear of our reign." This stone is but one of the reHcs of Roman occupancy of London. Parts of the old wall are yet to be seen, the London of those da}s lieing composed mostly of that part between the Tower and where the Bank of England now occupies the site of a Roman palace. We tried to follow the footsteps of Dickens where we could. In Chancery Lane we met little Miss Flite, still hoping for an early decision in the case of Jarnd}ce \-ersus jarndvce We met the Pecksniffs and the Smallweeds, Ladv Deadlock and ]ioor Joe. little Dora and Agnes and .\unt P)etsy Trotwood. ^Ir. Micawber was still waiting for something to turn u]); while at the vegetable stands we watched Betsy Prig stuff her wonderful pockets with the greens anrl "cowcumbers" to be unloaded at her famous tea- drinking with v^airc}' Gamp, where her unwillingness to " drink fair " prcci])itated the dissolution of their friendshi]) and the downfall of her belief in Mrs. Harris as " there being no sich a person." 54 Memories of a Red-Letter Snuimer. Honest Sam still followed Mr. Pickwick, while the elder Weller continued to bid his hopeful son " Bevare of the vidders." In the great mansion of Mr. Dombey, little Paul, with his old face, asked, " Papa, what is money?" and the patient, loving Flor- ence watched from the background, with adoring eyes, her little brother. Captain Cuttle still exhib- ited his wonderful watch; and the sight of a spoiled lapdog, of which his fair owner was making much, recalled little Dora Copperfield's " Jip " worrying imaginary cats. The sound of a Yorkshire tongue brought back John Browdie, Tilda, Nicholas, Squeers and poor Smike; while in the country, at the canal locks, we saw the " honest man who earned his bread by the sweat of his brow." Dear, delightful Dickens, whose fertile pen has peopled London's streets with never failing interest in your funny, quaint or sol- emn characters, peace to your ashes! Your mantle must inclose them, for it has descended on no other shoulders. The British Museum was a center from which it was hard to tear ourselves, and weeks could be spent profitably and delightfully among the priceless col- lections. Especially to be noted is a copy of Magna Charta, the " bulwark of English liberty," and signed by King John; also, of special interest to Catholics, London Streets and Footsteps of Dickens. 55 the Anglo-Saxon charter of Edward the Confessor to St. Mar\'s .\])bey. Coventry, founded in 1143, a relic of Catholic times and the devotion of King Edward to the service of God and His dear Mother. Here we also saw the Rosetta Stone, four thousand }-ears old. the key to ancient hieroglyphics, captured 1)\' the British at Alexandria. Egypt. Here also is the famous Portland Vase, of cameo glass, very ancient. This, sometimes called the Barberini Vase, is a fine specimen of the skill of Greco-Roman work. A vis- itor had accidentally broken it, but the parts had been skillfully put together, thus saving to the art world this antique treasure, which was found in a Roman tomb four hundred years ago. Hyde Park was near our hotel, and here we spent much time in driving and strolling. The Alloert Me- morial, in honor of Queen Victoria's husband, is one of the grandest of monuments. America, Europe. Africa and Asia are represented in magnificent marble grou])ings. and all the arts are paying tribute to the Pi'ince. whose statue is seated under a towering can- oj)y. To defray the expense of this, the government assisted, while offerings came from the poorest to the richest tf) the amount of six hundred thousand dol- lars. " Rotten Row " is a long and beautiful dri\'c in this ])ark. the name being ])robabl}- a corru])ti()n 56 Memories of a Rcd-Lettcr Sninmef. of " Rue de Roi." The Kensington Museum is of great interest. We especially noticed a skeleton of an immense deer, found in an Irish bog. London Bridge is the most crowded highway in the world. Of course we must cross it, and so we viewed the palaces and art galleries, the monuments of great men and the far-reaching charities of devoted women. Each has a charm. On the Thames Vic- toria embankment stands one of the numerous obe- lisks which have been taken from Egypt, known as '' Cleopatra's Needle." This one was presented to King George IV. by Mehemet Ali, ruler of Egypt. It is a single block of red granite, covered with hiero- glyphics. In order to transport it to B'ngland an iron vessel was expressly built. It passed safely through the Mediterranean, but in the Bay of Biscay parted from its tug. It was found afterwards, and towed into a Spanish port, where it remained three months for repairs, when a powerful tug was sent from Eng- land, and the great obelisk was safely landed and set up. „,,«..^«W'3^' ■< CHAPTER V. SHAKESPEARE'S HOME — ANCIENT MONASTERIES — EDINBURGH — ROSSLYN CASTLE — SIR WAL- TER SCOTT— MELROSE ABBEY- ROBERT BURNS. Stratford-on-Avon, the liome of the immortal Shakespeare, the great Mecca of hterary pilgrims, is a typical English town, with agricultural surround- ings. We were told that curfew rings and the town crier proclaims tidings of importance. We went at once to the Red Horse Inn for lunch, the old build- ing under whose roof many distinguished visitors to Siiakespeare's home have rested. We entered through an arch into a stable yard, recalling some of Dickens' sketches. It was clean and tidy, and on either side there were rooms and ofhces. We were shown into the a])artmenl ()ccu])ied by our own com- patriot, Washington Ir\-ing, during his x'isit here. A large chair was inscribed with his name, and the \er\- poker was called " GeolTrcy Craxon's scci)tcr." C )f course v^hakespeare's is the master spirit that i)er- vades the town. At his home we \-isited the room in which he was born, the kitchen or li\ing rooui. u]) the stairs, and all around the humble home, where his genius de\elo])ed and ga\e to the world those 58 Memories of a Red-Letter Suuimer. writings that have never been equalled. On the queer little window-panes, as well as over the walls, are scratched the names of many who came to pay tribute at his shrine. His desk, books and old sur- roundings are religiously preserved by a Board of Trustees, who take care of his relics, his dwelling and that of Anne Hathaway, the old grammar school, the church in which we saw his baptismal record in 1564, the font and his tomb. A fine memorial theater has been erected for the enaction of his plays on the banks of the Avon, with valuable library and picture gallery attached. The Gower monument contains exquisite statues of some of his heroes and heroines, while our own George W. Childs has here erected a fountain and a clock tower with appropriate Shakespearean quota- tions. Here, in the old Trinity Church, Americans have a window illustrating- by Scriptural subjects the " Seven Ages of Man." We stood by Shakespeare's tomb, to the left of the altar, and read his last injunction: " Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare To digg the dust enclosed heare ; Blest be ye man yt spares th's stones. And curst be he yt moves my bones." His bust, said to be from a death mask, is above his CO K X Shakcsf^carc's Home — .liicicnt Moiiasfcrics. 59 grave, and, undenicntb, a I.atin inscrii)li()n, which, interpreted, reads: " The earth covers, the jieople mourn, and Paradi.se possesses him, who was in jud.g- ment a Nestor, in intellect a Socrates, and in art a Virgil." The tablet to his wife's memory reads: " Here lyeth interred the body of Anne, wife of William Shakespeare, who de]:)arted this life the sixth day of August, 1623, being of the age of sixty-seven years." This is followed by a Latin inscription. This church is but another instance of the ancient Cath- olic pro])erty seized, des])oiled, confi.^'cated. It was formerl}- connected with the Abbey Evesham, and ser\ed by a college of priests. The Dean Balsall, who relmilt some of the older parts, died in 1401, and is l)uried here. I^ike all old churches, the Holy Water stou]) is at the door and at x'aricnis other places; and on the door is the ancient knocker with ring, such as were found where sanctuary was ac- corded. Three niches ox'cr the door renu'nd us of the dedication to the Trinity, but the statues which once occu])ied them shared the fate of other sacred symbols. Tlie old oaken stalls .are (juaintly car\-ecarc's Home — .liiciciif Monasteries. 6i a movement to oro-anize Shakespearean chil)s all over the world, with hea'l(|narter.s here, beliex'ing" such a federation would inspire more appreciation of the poet's works. A few miles from Stratford stands Warwick Castle, with its picturesciue view^s and priceless art treasures. Near this route lies Banbury Cross, to which Mother Goose has danced all the babies for years; and Oxford University, with its pile of build- ings, founded by King" Alfred, and the center of scholarly interest. Many of our tourist companions stopped here to visit the famed seat of learning. The whole world of scholars will soon unite in honoring Alfred the Great on his one thousandth anniversary. By strength of arms he brought peace to his cotm- try. and for fifteen years he strove to repair the waste of years of strife. A present-day eulogist says: " Throughout all the land that owned his rule. Saxon craftsmen were at work and public buildings rose, he in\iting to his realm sk"illed \vorkmcn, that his people might benctlt from their knowledge. Religion was fostered, and the monks, as sole repositors of learn- ing, prospered under Alfred's enlightened patronage. So great was his zeal for the study of literatm-e that some of his nobles found their subnn'ssion irksome. " Ihit the 1 )anes broke loose again, and resistance to their inxasions made him nmch trouble. When 62 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. he died, he had sown the seeds of learning, for the harvest of which the reapers are still at work." England, Ireland and Scotland abound in old churches and sacred spots desecrated and appropri- ated by those to whom might makes right. One of these is at Glastonbury, which, tradition says, was founded by Joseph of Arimathea, whose stafif, stuck in the ground, grew and blossomed always on Christ- mas day. A fanatical Puritan cut it down, but the spot is marked by a stone. Slips of the thorn have been taken to other places; one is known to be still thriving in the grounds of the Wells Cathedral. The author of llie Origin of tlic British Nation says of Glastonbury: " It stands alone among English Minsters as the one link which does really bind us to the ancient church of the Briton and the Roman." The last Abbot stood up against the robbery of Henry VIII., who in turn confiscated this property, and the brave Abbot was dragged out, hanged, drawn and quartered. In ihe crypt, in the time of Henry II., was found a coffin containing the bones of a large man, and the smaller ones and golden hair of a woman. The coffin was inscribed: His jacct, sepnltus inclytis, Rex Arthur ns, in insula Avalonia. So Arthur was not, after all, a myth. Another shrine, so dear to the Catholic heart, is that of the Canterbury Cathe- dral, the foundation dating back even before St. Sliakcsf'carc's Hojiic — Ancient Monasteries. 63 Augustine. Under him the site was created cathe- dral and monastery. After the murder of St. Thomas a-Becket on the altar, and his burial here, the shrine was made most magnificent by pious offerings. Thomas Cromwell, under Henry V'lIL, destroyed the shrine, confiscated the treasure and burned the body. The pavement is worn by the knees of pil- grims. The old Winchester Cathedral shared the same fate. Under the Tower is an old tomb, reputed to l)e that of William Rufus. Six mortuary chests contain the remains of Ethelwolf, Canute. Egbert, and other early kings unidentified, as also the body and shrine of St. Swithin; while in the church of St. Swithin, in London, is preserved the lapis miliaris of Roman days, from wluch distances were calculated. In an old l)ook in mv liljrary I have read an ac- count of the finding of the body of King John in Worcester Cathedral. The book is of 17Q7, aiid re- cords that " on Monday, in beginning the repairs of our Cathedral, the body of the King, which had been (le])Osited in 1216, was discovered." and goes on with full description, reading, after o\-er one hun- dred years, like an item from a morning ])aper of the twentieth century. The Ely Cathedral, dating back to 1083, contains also many old and interesting tombs, and has been added to and iniprn\(Ml through the centuries. .Vt 64 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Ely the Saxons made their last stand in 1071. The Oxford Cathedral is of the same antiquity. In one of the old stained windows a Puritan trooper struck out the head of the figure of St. Thomas of Canter- bury, and one of plain glass has been substituted. Peterborough Cathedral was founded in 656 at- tached to a Benedictine Monastery. Here the mar- tyred Mary, Queen of Scots, reposed until her son James removed her body to Westminster. Here lies Catherine of Aragon, first victim of Henry YHI.'s apostasy. In 1643 the Puritans destroyed the fine stained gdass windows and desecrated the tombs. Some English ladies have placed here a slab bearing the single name " Mary " to mark the spot where Mary, Queen of Scots, rested. York Cathedral goes back to 627, and Chester to pre-Roman period. Car- lisle Cathedral is of the time of William Rufus, mod- ernized, of course, and here Sir Walter Scott was married. Owing to its strategic position, the ancient town of Carlisle has witnessed many stormy scenes for centuries. The beautiful Salisbury Cathedral dates back to 1220; St. Osmond, 1079; Chichester, 1085; and Lingard says that "Battle Abbey of the Benedictines was founded by William the Norman in performance of a vow that he would build one on the spot where God should give him victory at the battle of Hastings in 1066. It was originally called St. Shakespeare's Home — Aiicieiif Monasteries. 65 Martin's, where perpetual ])rayers were to be offered for all who fell there in battle." The altar is on the spot where Harold fell. Henry VIII. seized and pre- sented it to one of his officers at the Reformation. The ]:)nrchase of the Abbey is now being considered b}' one of our countrymen, who has transferred his allegiance to England. He is said to crave royal notice, and is anxious to acquire ancient properties. The ])resent owner sa\'S the black marble staircase is worn and hacked l)y the heels and swords of the Cru- saders. Rochester Cathedral was founded by St. Augustine. So on for pages might we continue the mere sketch of these buildings, sanctiued by iM'ayers and alms, and again desecrated by covetous fanati- cism. W'e had not the pleasure of visiting all these places, but studied them with interest. The old cathedrals and historic churches of England are numberless. A night's ride from London brings us to Edin- 1)urgh. The Castle was imposing, on its high rock, and on our way to visit it we passed by the magnifi- cent Gothic memorial to Scotland's famed son, the great Sir Walter Scott. His statue is in a sitting ])()sition, with his fa\'orite dog Be\'is beside him. Ixeaching the top of Castle 11 ill. we alighted to enter the gates, and here met a pretty sight. .\ company of soldiers, in their picturesque Highland costume 66 Memories of a Red-Lefter Suimiier. and led by the shrill bagpipes, passed rapidly by us, evidently amused at our curious American gaze. A tiny chapel interested us much. It was built by St. Margaret, the Queen of Malcolm, daughter of Edward the Outlaw and mother of David, " who, oftener on her knees than on her feet, died every day she lived." We tried to imagine the scene, when, after long watching for her husband and sons away at the wars, she entered this little chapel, and press- ing the holy Rood to her breast, so received the tidings brought by her son Ethelred of the death of his father and brothers, and her cry: " I thank thee, Lord, that givest me this agony to bear in my death hour." Near by, on the ramparts, stands the immense g'un, '' Mons Meg," with which many traditions are connected; it is held in much respect by the people. And here, also, is the grate for ancient beacon fires. The crown room is a small place of great strength, and contains the famed regalia of Scotland, consist- ing of crowns, scepter and sword of state. Sir Wal- ter Scott traces the crown back to Bannockburn, when Robert Bruce wore an open crown over his helmet, which crown is the foundation of the present one. The scepter contains precious stones dating back to Druidical days. So much political conten- tion existed concerning the Scottish regalia, that, to Shokcsf^carc's Home — Ancient Monasteries. 67 preser\'e it, it was concealed for a hundred years. Around the rooms of Queen Mary ckister saddest memories. A smaH chamber is shown wliere her son, afterwards James VI. of Scotland and I. of England, was born, and the window o\'er the high steep rock, down which as an infant he was lowered in a basket and taken to Castle Stirling. For many hundred vears Edinburgh Castle was the scene of contention, and once, in 1650, Cromwell captured it. Holyrood Palace was once an Al)bey, founded by King David. The chronicles say that it was erected as a repository for the holy Rood*be(|ueathed by Queen Margaret to her sons, and was the scene of learning and pious study in the midst of the rude sur- roundings. The relic was for ages considered as the palladium (^f Scotland. The history of the .Abbey from its foundation., for manv years, is \-irtu<'dl}' the history of Scotland, for here kings and (pieens were entertained, crowned and married — ^ among them, poor Mary, Queen of Scots, to the weak Darnley, — until at the Rcfc^rmation it went the wa\- of other religious houses. Entering the palace, we passed through a long and interesting picture gallery into Eorfl Darnley's apartments, where there are again many portraits and some ancient tapestrv, on which expert needle women were making rej)airs as it hung on the walls. P>ut most we cared for the \'iew of 68 Memories of a Red -Letter Summer. Queen Mary's apartments. We passed through the audience chamlDcr, and it seemed haunted with the shades of Mary and her rude opponent, John Knox, who, frequently here, contended roughly with his gentle young Queen. He was not content to thunder against her from the pulpit, but privately insulted her faith, and by his abuse stirred up trouble against her, and made of her short reign a season of terror. Pos- terity is gradually awarding to this unhappy Queen the justice so long denied her; and one has only to read James Meline's excellent and painstaking refu- tation of Froud^'s attacks in his Mary, Queen of Scots, and Her Latest English Historian, to see in its true light this period of history. I must insert here a few lines from a letter written by Mary to Elizabeth in the fourteenth year of her captivity, as showing the cruel suffering of mind she endured: " The vilest criminals in your prisons, borne under obedience to you. are permitted to justify themselves, and to know both their accusers and their charges. Why, then, should not the same order be taken with me, a sover- eign, your nearest relative and lawful heiress. Your prison, without any right or just cause, has already destroyed my body; there remains only to me my soul, which is beyond your power to make captive." For twenty years she languished in prison, after throwing herself on the protection of Elizabeth, be- •Mauv, Qukux or Scots. SJiakcsf'carc's Home — .liiciciif Monasteries. 69 fore she was at last led to the l)lock. liven here the consolations of her own religion were denied her. Declinini^- what her conscience revolted against, she prayed for her son, for Elizalieth, for Scotland, lier enemies and herself, and with crncifix in hand ex- claimed: ■■ As tliy arms, () God, were stretched ont npon the cross, so receive me into the arms of tliv mercy, and forgive me my sins." Then kneeling hy the hlock: " Into thy hands. O Lord, I commit my spirit." Here is the last prayer of Mary. Oneen of Scots, written in her prayer-])ook the morning before her execntion: Translated. " O Domine Deus, " Oh, my Lord and 1113^ God, Speravi in te. I Iiave trusted in Thee. O, Care mi Jcsii, Oh, Jesu.s, my love, Nunc libera me. Now liberate me. In dura catena. In my enemies' power. In misera poena, In affliction's sad hour, Desidero Te. I languish for Thee. Langucndo, gemendo. In sorrowing, weeping, Et genutlectendo, And bending the knee, Adoro, impioro, I adore and implore Thee Ut liberes me." To liberate me." Ivaising a corner (»f tapestry, we were shown into a small room, in which the (Jiiecn sal at her supper (in the fatal night when llu' hrntal assassins rnshed in and slabbed Ivizzio in her jiresence. .All know how Darnlev held the Queen in her chair, while Ruthven 70 Memories of a R^d-Letter Summer. and others in their rage overturned the table, while the trembling victim clung to her skirts, hoping Her Majesty might be his protection. We looked down the narrow private stairway by which they entered and the way by which the bleeding body was dragged. The little dressing-room v/as very tiny for a queen's robing, and her bed. still standing, has the silken hangings dropping from it in decay. The chapel royal is the last remnant of the church attached to the monastery. We strolled around the ruins, now open to the sky, and ende.avored to read some of the inscriptions on the tombs and to imagine it at its early glory. In 1896 Queen Victoria had the relics of her an- cestors, the Stuarts, collected and reverently cared for, for here the Reformers had also desecrated the tombs. As John Knox said' " Pull down the rook- eries and the craws will flee awa'." Some stone coffins were discovered a few years ago, which were supposed to be the tombs of the early monks and abbots, probably from the years 1200 and 1300. Leaving this interesting spot, we drove through the city, and observed on the pavement a heart- shaped design, marking the site of the old jail: " The Heart of Midlothian." Farther on, in the pave also, trodden daily by thousands of busy feet, are the initials " J. K.," and here the disturber, John Knox, Shakespeare's Home — Ancient Monasteries. 71 lies buried, as Doctor Johnson wished he should be. Knox was no respecter of persons, having the cour- age to even refer to Queen Elizabeth as a " weik instrument." We visited the ancient church of St. Giles, dating from 1259. and closely connected with the city's his- tory. At the Reformation it was despoiled, and the sacred vessels sold to pay for the altering of the build- ing" for the convenience of those who seized it from the rightful owners. From its stolen pulpit John Knox thundered his maledictions, and a tablet in the f^oor marks the place where Jeannie Geddis threw her stool at the Dean. Here are the tombs of Montrose and the Earl of Moray. The tomb of Montrose is very beautiful. This Scottish nobleman and soldier had left the Presbyterian army and joined the King. He defeated the Covenanters in several engagements, but \\as finally captured, and after suffering many indig- nities, the sentence was executed, that he be hung, drawn and quartered and his ashes scattered to the n-inds. I particularly note this, as the lines are very beau- tiful and hopeful, which he scratched on the window of his prison with a diamond the night before his death: " Let them bestow on every airth a limb, Then open all my veins, that I may swim 72 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. To Thee, my Maker ! in that crimson lake ; Then place my parboiled head upon a stake ^ Scatter my ashes, strew them in the air; Lord ! since Thou knowest where all these atoms are, I'm hopeful Thou'lt recover once my dust, And confident Thou'lt raise me with the just." We visited the site of the old Grey Friars' Monas- tery, called the Westminster of Scotland, where lie many noted personages. On a small column, on the street, Lady Burdett Coutts erected a memorial to a little dog that died of grief on his master's grave. A tablet on a house marks the early home of vScott, and a cottage is shown as the residence of his heroine, Jeannie Deans. There are many attractions about here, among them the Grand Drive, Arthur's Seat, St. Bernard's Well, the great Forth Bridge, the re- mains of the ancient Dumferline Abbey, where lie Queen Margaret and the mother of Wallace, and the body of Robert the Bruce, although his heart is in Melrose Abbey. Now we drive out to Rosslyn Castle, on the banks of the romantic Esk. This was founded by Sir Wil- liam Sinclair, Lord Rosslyn, Earl of Orkney, whose many titles "might weary a Spaniard." He built the castle, where he lived in royal splendor, and founded a chapel, which is of the most rich and florid Gothic stvle of architecture. SJiakcsf^carc's Home — .liiciciif Monasfcrics. 73 Queen X'ictoria, on the occasion of a ^'isit here many years ago, requested that " so unique a gem should be preserved to the country." h contains the ''apprentice pillar,'' of which the story is told that the architect in charge, despairing of producing a pillar according to orders, went to Rome for farther study. In his absence an apprentice undertook and com- pleted the beautiful work, and on the master's return he was so consumed by jealous rage that he struck the apprentice a death blow. At the Reformation the Laird was summoned to destroy the altars and statues. Remonstrance was of no a^-ail; the orders must be obeyed; the emblems of his faith came down; whereupon the chronicles tell us " the general, provincial and Presbyterian assem- blies were fully satisfit, for which the brethren praysit God." His son, vSir William, was buried in the chapel on the very da\- that the l)attle of Dunbar was fought. Tradition says that on the death of a member of the family, the cha]:)cl seems on (ire \vherc the former knights were buried in their armor. Sir Walter Scott says: " Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, Wlurc Rosslyn's chiefs uncoriined lie. Each baron for a sable shroud Sheathed in his iron panoply." (4) 74 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. The " chapel fire " legends were, perhaps, imported by the Earls of Orkney, as tomb fires are mentioned in most of the Sagas. We approached the castle by a bridge and along the wildest precipices. We were guided through the ancient rooms, down into the dungeons and soldiers' rooms, built on the solid rock. We marked the places for arrows to be shot through, and the great yew at the entrance, from wliich arrows were made, which we could readily believe was, as we were told, eight hundred years old. This magnificent structure was often besieged and repaired, but the worst dam- age was done by that portion of Cromwell's arm.y under General Monk, when they stabled their horses in the lovely chapel. Like all old ruins, it has a legend, which says great treasure is buried in one of the vaults, guarded by a lady of the ancient house. When she shall be awakened from her long slumber by the sound of a trumpet, she will point out the treasure. The precipices along the banks of the Esk are clothed with verdure, and the whole of Rosslyn Glen is sublimely beautiful. One should visit these places with Scott's poems in hand. Of this he says: " Through woods more fair, no stream more sweet Rolls to the eastern main." Hawthornden. near by, is closely connected also with early history. Sir Walter has preserved, in his Shakespeare's Hone — Aiicie)if Monasteries. .75 matchless fiction, ninch of the lore of these old ]>laces. We had the ])leasnre of visiting' his home at Abl)Ots- ford. of which some one has said: "A visit to Abbots- ford would make an oyster enthusiastic." This home seemed part of himself. Here he planted nearly all the trees, and the place was doul)ly endeared to him. that by the failure of his bankers he was compelled to redouble his exertions to save it. Of this period he wrote: " I have walked the last time on the do- mains I have planted, sat the last time in the halls I have built. I find my eyes moistening; but this will not do; I will not yield without a fight for it. In prosperous times I have sometimes felt my fancy and powers of language dag, but ads'ersity, to me, is a tonic and a bracer." Then came failing health and the loss of his loverl wife; yet in two years his fertile pen brought to him f^rtv thousand pounds. All honored and loved him. and he jokingly alluded to the liDUiirs ]);ii(l him: " W hal a tail of the al])babet I should draw after me if I were to sign with the indi- cations of the dift'erent societies I belong to." The collection of curios would seem to be the work of a lifetime, outside of his literary labors and the time he gave to otiiers. The studw with his chair, desk and books; the many paintings; the last suit worn by him ere he expired and was laid in the beautiful and \-en- erable Drxburgh Abbe\'. were all of nnich interest. 76 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Among the curios we particularly noted the key of the old Tolbootli Jail, the '' Heart of Mid- lothian," the genuine Genevra casket, and the cru- cifix held in the hand of Mary, Queen of Scots, at her execution; Rob Roy's gun, a pistol found in Napo- leon's carriage after Waterloo, the portal and key of old Tolbooth, Marie Antoinette's clock, and number- less other articles of value to a collector. The armor and hundreds of priceless curios, collected by the great novelist, would require pages to describe. The present owner of the home is his kinswoman, Mrs. Maxwell Scott, whose husband adopted the family name, as there was no male heir. She has written most interestingly of the home and its contents, besides other works. 1 understand that she is a Catholic convert. Melrose Abbey, near by, was much beloved by Scott, and is one of the most beautiful of ruins. It was founded in 1136 by St. David. Here lie the re- mains of Michael Scott, the wizard, whose book of magic is said to be buried with him; and the heart of Bruce, where it was deposited after an unsuccessful attempt to carry it, according to his wishes, to the Holy Land. Sir James Douglas was chosen to exe- cute this pious wish, and with Sir William Sinclair, of Rosslyn, and other noblemen, started to Jerusalem; but learning that the King of Castile was engaged in " Hour, AloN." Shakes/Scare's Home — .liieieiif .^foiiastcrics. II war with the ]\Ioors. and wishing- to take part in what he considered a 'hoi}' \\-arfare, he joined the King's forces. Pursuing the iiying enemy with too much ardor, he was surrounded l\v them, ^^•hen, taking from Ills lx)som the casket which contained the heart of Bruce, he cast it from him, and exclaimed: " Now pass onward, as thou were wont, and Douglas will follow thee, or die." He fell in death. His l)ody and the casket were found the next day on the battle- field, and the heart was consigned to Melrose Abbey, while the Douglas was buried with his family. A noble companion. Sir .Simon Lee. was the custodian of both to Scotland. In the Abbey also lie Alexan- der Second and his Queen. Joanna, and man}- vener- able clergy and noble warriors. Here Sir Walter was wont to spend many hours in meditation, and in his Lay of the Last }finsli-el he has woven many memo- ries. The villagers will ])oint this or that place as " Sir Walter's favorite seat." He has described its cxf|uisitc traceries and scrolls, " that teach thee to live and die," and bids us — "If thou wouldst view fair Melrose right, Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; Then go. but go alone the while. To view Saint David's ruined pile. And home returning, soothly swear Was never scene so sad and fair." yS Memories of a Red-I,etfer Summer. But now we must take our departure, hoping some time to repeat our visit here, and go also to Burns' country, to the banks and braes of " Bonnie Doon," the ''Auld Brig," the scene of. Tarn O'Shan- ter's ride; the Alloway's- haunted Kirk, the Castle of Montgomery, and the home of Highland Mary, who inspired his tender verse, "To Mary in Heaven" : " Thou lingering star, with lessening ray, That lovest to greet the early morn, Again thou usherest in the day, When Mary from my soul was torn." Truly, poets are born, not made, for from the home of the humble plow-boy have come some of the ten- derest and sweetest songs as well as cutting satires. Returning to London, we prepared to visit Ire- land. CHAPTER VI, DUBLIN — O'CONNELL — EMMET — GLASNEVIN — DROGHEDA — CROMWELL — FROUDE — FATHER TOM BURKE. From London we leave for Holyhead, to cross the Irish Sea. There is a popular saying- that only fools and Americans travel first-class, as in Europe the trains are first, second and third class. We are con- tent to be classed among the fools, as even the first- class is snfificiently comfortless; and as for " lug- gage." our English cousin seems to wish to have all his impedimenta of travel crowded around him where he can view it, regardless of the convenience of his fellow travelers. The umbrellas, canes and " gowf " sticks, the rugs, hat boxes and bags, that accompany him, and with his high hat set firmly on his head, make him a character. The guard, or conductor, runs along the side of the train, locks you in your compartment, gives a whistle, aufl off you are. Arriving at your destina- tion, )'ou must look out for your own baggage, and then they will pile it all on ^•our conveyance, until, as we tra\'cled from our station in Dublin to our hotel, we felt like i^art and parcel of the contents of a great mo\'ing van. En route to Tlnlyhearl we passed. 8o Memories of a Red-Lctter Siiiiuner. among- other noted spots, the Castle Conway, an immensely solid structnre, dating back to about 1284, erected by King Edward. From Holyhead to Dublin we had a chilly, sickening passage, soon for- gotten, though, when we found ourselves comfort- ably settled on Erin's shores. Opposite our hotel in Stephen's Green we strolled and sat to observe the new surroundings. On Sackville Street, the great thoroughfare, are a number of monuments, notably one to Father Mathew, the a]wstle of temperance, who visited our own country on his missic^n about fifty years ago. Truly, the good men do li^■es after ihem, and the seed sown In* this earnest Irish priest has thriven and blossomed and borne goc^d fruit. At the end of the O'Connell Bridge, across the Liffey, stands a fine statue of William Smith O'Brien, the great Irish leader. Statues are erected to Tom Moore, whose songs have delighted the world, and to Burke and Goldsmith. The library of Trinity College contains many val- uable works — the Books of Kells, of Darrow, and of Armagh, and a Book of Leinster in the Irish lan- guage. Referring tc^ the Book of Kells as an ex- ample of ancient Irish art. I shall quote a sentence here and there of an article written several years ago to the iYczc York Sun bv Rev. Bernard O'Reillv: " In Dublin — 0' Council — Eninicf — Cromn^ell. 8i the library of Trinity College, where there are pre- served wonderful remains of ancient Irish art, I had come to behold with ni}' own eyes and touch with my own hands the book of Kells. the copy of the four Gospels, written and exc|uisitely illuminated by the great Saint Columbkille, thirteen hundred years ago. The city of Kells grew up early in the ninth century, whien the Northmen first swooped down on lona and forced the sons of Saint Cohmiba to take refuge on the neighboring island, among their own kinfolk. Kells grew up aroimd tlie monastery they founded in North Meath. And there, after the suppression of the monasteries. Usher, first appointed Bishop of Meath. and afterwards Bishop of Armagh, found this book, antl be(|ueathed it. with his library, to Trinity College. Here it is before me, incomparably beau- tiful! No wonder that people who looked upon this exquisitely formed writing sliould have said, in* their despair of reproducing anything like it, that ' it was the work of an angel.' " After an attempted descrip- tion, he arlds: ' I must despair of conveying to the reader, even were I master of word-painting, anything like a correct j^icture of this magnificent specimen of Christian rui. ICxamined with a magnifying glass, every tracing is sim])ly perfect. The fancy which guided the hruid tl.at traced these lines seems to be one of exhaustless \:u'iet\' in its designs; the hand 82 Mejuorics of a Rcd-Letter Summer, itself must have been ]:)OSsessed of a skill of which no modern artist or penman could boast. These infin- itely correct and delicate traceries are not to be found outside of the Celtic schools, where Irish scholars kindled the flame of learning" from the fifth to the ninth century." The harp of Brian Born, the Irish king who fell in battle in 1014, is also shown. Moore eulogizes his reign in the poem, " f^ich and rare were the gems she wore," when one could, in those troubled times, travel in perfect safety all over the realm. Dublin is rich in libraries and museums. In Phoenix Park, once a part of Kilmainham Priory, is an ancient cromlech, and the curious note the pillar that marks the spot where Burke and Cavendish were murdered, and also the dueling groimd. Glasnevm Cemetery contains a magnihcent monument to the great liber- ator,- O'Connell, a round tower one hundred and fifty feet high. He died in 1847, '^i''^ bequeathed his " body to Ireland, heart to Rome, and soul to hea- ven." He was deservedly the idol of his people; his character was the purely ideal Irish type, witty and fearless, and his eloquent tongue gave rapid utter- ance to the emotions that stirred his noble heart, magnetizing the sympathies of his listeners. His monument in the city is a noble one, surmounted by his statue, while around it are grouped figures sym- Dublin — O'CohucU — liiiniicf — Cro]iiii'cU. 83 holizin^- liis marked traits. iMdclity, Courai^c, Elo- (|ueiice, and Patriotism. I lis heloN'CMl coiintv)- is rep- resented by a female ti<;ure, ])()intini;- to liim as her liberator, while in the other hand she holds the emancipation l)ill. The ])oet Mani;an, the statesman C'nrr;ui. and scnlptor lloL;an lie here. The t^raxe t)f Charles Par- nell attracts nuich attention, and shows loving" care. The plat surrounding it is covered with memorial wreaths under glass. Near here is the grave of I>arry Sullivan, surmounted by a beautiful statue of liim as Hamlet. Kilmainham llospital, founded in 1 174, is not far from the Kilmainham Jail, wliich is well remem- bered by the present generation as the place of deten- tion of political offenders. The jail is dark, damp and gloomy. We were told that often ])eople in passing make the sign of the cross, with the words: Ma)' (jod in his merey keep me and mine from all harm. .Amen." Charles I'arnell was im|)risone(| here for holding up to execration the system of Irish land- lordism, declaring it the cm'se of this fair laud. We were shown the house where the patriot, i'jnmet, was ca])tured, and in huhlin he was executed. He is supposed to he buried in (ilasnexin C'emeter\', where a nameless gra\e is shown, as according to his own re(|ucst no man should write his c'ljitapii niUil Ireland 84 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. should be free. This recalls the pathetic story of the lady of his love, of whom Moore's lines were written: " She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps." He was well born, but his heart burned with indignation at the sight of the indignities suf- fered by the poorer class, and with true patriotic ardor he resented their oppression. He sacrificed all on the altar of his country, even his life, and greater love than this no man could show. His speech, on being found guilty of treason, is a masterpiece of oratory, and one of the most touching appeals to posterity. When asked what he had to say — I give a sentence here and there — ^ he replied: " I have nothing to say which can alter your predetermina- tion. When my shade shall have joined those martyred heroes, who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field in defense of their country and of virtue, I wish that my memory and name may animate those who survive me. I appeal to God and to the murdered patriots who have gone before, and I con- fidently hope there is still strength and union in Ireland to accomplish her emancipation. If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the cares and concerns of those who were dear to them in this transitory life, oh, ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father, look down with scrutiny on the conduct of your suffering son, and see if I have for a moment deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your care to instill into my youthful mind, and for which I am now to offer up my life. I have but one request to make at my departure from this w'orld : it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph, for as no man, who knows my Dublin — O'CointclI — Bin met — Croiirarll. 85 motives, dares now to vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignor- ance asperse them. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written." We drove out to Donnybrook, which name has ahvays been connected with shillelahs and l)roken heads, but it is now a quiet Httle village, the fairs having been abolished. The Hill of Howth, at the entrance of the bay, contains a castle, church, and cairn, reputed to be the tomb of one of the early kings, and one said to be that of the wife of Oscar, son of Ossian, dying of grief for her husband, who fell in the l^attle near Tara. Here, also, is a small rocky island, called Ireland's Eye, noted as the last stand of the Danish invaders in the beginning of the eleventh century. Tara's Hill we were obliged to leave for a hoped-for future visit, for it is not the place to be visited carelessly, surrounded as it is by sacred traditions, as also the land of St. Columba. vSt. Patrick's Cathedral is said to have been founded by the saint himself. His well, from which he bap- tized his converts, was here, but has been closed. This church was scixed, with hundreds of others, from the rightful owners, and the old faith is no longer i)racticed here. We noticed a has relief to "Carolan, the last of the Bards," and tablets to Dean Swift and his Stella. Swift's earlv childhood's cir- 86 Memories of a Rcd-Lcttcr Sii miner. ciitustanccs cnibittorecl liiiii. lie kept his birtlulavs sad, instead of rejoicing, readitio- in ]o\) and lament- ing' " the day a man child is born." ble was secretly married to Stella; and once, while contemplating a decaying' elm, predicted that he also shconld " die at the top." His reason ilid give way. lie left a for- tm\e of ten thonsand ponnds for a Innatic asylum in Dublin. '■ Ho loft tho littlo woalth lio had To build a house for fools or mad, To show, by cmic satiric touch. No nation wanted ono so much." His epitaph reads: " Here lies the bc^dy of Jonathan Swift, ]\\m of this Catlunlral, where bitter indigna- tion can no more lacerate his heart. Go, traveler, ami, so far as thou art able, imitate this strenuous aiU'ocate of liberty." With all Swift's bitterness, he luul the fine feeling to place a tablet in the church in memor)- of his faithful scrx-aut, Alexnutler McGee. 'The eminent John PhilptH <.\u"ran also has a monu- ment here. CrcMuwcll's men made a Ixarrack of this oUl chtu'ch. Christ's Church Cathedral has about the same history, fouud.cd in I he elex'cnth century. St. Lawrence O'Toole and Strongbow aitled in its erec- tion, ami Slrongbow's tomb and that of his A\-ife, Kx'a, arc here. St. Patrick's sialT was among the relics here. The Norman Stroni:Tun\'s tomb is marked hv Dublin — O' Co II II ell — li III met — Cromxvcll. ^"j a stone elTii^^y, while beside it is one of half length, supposed to he that of his son, whom, it is said, he cut in two for some ofl'ense. The eountry is fidl of prehistoric ruins; round towers, tunuili. and cromlechs, or supposed Druids' altars; raths or royal hills, such as Tara, and great Irish crosses. From Dublin we drive out to a re- markal)le charitable institution, a hospital for the dying. " Each bringeth here his cross, that no one shares." "Notwithstanding the knowledge that they were here but awaiting death, nearly all seem cheer- ful, antl to appreciate the privilege of being under the care of the kind religious, who certainly do all they can to smooth the way for them, until the summons, ' Come, the Master wills it so.' " "And rests him hero so sweet, and Idiihwilh fares (Jut 111 tile iii;^lu. the starli<;ht nii^lit, again." " Yon wish him (M)(ls])ccd as a frit-nd on land watches the dei)arlurc of an cxploi'cr of llic iniknowii seas." We were taken through the beauliful park sur- rounding the mansion of Lord Koberts, or " Little Bobs," as the hjiglish aiTi'Ct ionaU'b' cal]i'(| him, then commanding in SoiUh Afiica; biU with all the honors the government has since lu-apcd npon him, what can comfort tlu' ln'.nt ol him wIki mourns a son, as his (jnl\' son dird tai' noin Ii()n)r and nioiluM"! 88 Memories of a Raf -Letter Sii miner. From Dublin I took a day to visit the spot once occupied bv an ancestor, but the remnants of the old castle walls were built into a con\ent, and g'entle nuns now teach where once dwelt the Presbyterian soldier knioiUed at the siege of Derry. En route we passed through Drogheda, on the river Boyne, so famous in Ireland's history of contentions between the different factions. Moore writes: " As vanquished Erin wept beside tlie Boyne's ill fated river, She saw where discord in the tide had dropped his loaded quiver. ' Lie hid,' she cried, ' ye venomcd darts, where mortal eye may shun you ; Lie hid, lor, oh, the stain of hearts that bled for me is on yon.' Rxit vain her wish, her weeping vain, as time too well has taught her ; Each year the tieiul returns again and dives into that water. And brings triumphant from beneath his shafts of desolation, And sends them, winged with worse than deatli, throughout her madding nation. Alas ! for her who sits and moiims e'en now beside tliat river. Unwearied still, the fiend returns, and stored is still his quiver; \\'hcn will this end, 3'e jiowers of Good, she weeping asks forever. But only hears from out that flood the demon's answer. Never." \A'e see this fact demonstrated each year by the celebration o{ the battle of the Boyrie, not only in the Ih'itish Isles, Init also in some places in this cotmtry. 1 ha\e iust recei\-ed a letter frcMU a friend in Canada Piihliii — O' Council — Lliiiiiicf — Cromwell. 89 telliiii;' nic of the enioNiiionl of the seene in a ehiirch of wliich she is a nieml)er. of the eelchration of the iJth of Jul}', when the ( )raiijj'enien niarehed to ehureh. L;"uns in liand, to 'j\\<- thanks to (lod for their vietory over tlie wretelied Irish. A thousand mem- ories of Oliver Cromwell's atrocities came to us at Drog'hecla. C'romwell needs no nionnnient to im- mortalize his name, the crnnihlinq' ruins of al)l)eys, the sacred spots desecrated and defaced all o\'er the desolated land, are connected with it. ITis motto seemed to be, ''Arise and sla\-."' A present writer says: " Cromwell came with his Ironsides to Ireland, P)il)le in one hand, sword in the other. Like a tor- rent thc\' swept the land, leax'iuL;' in their w.ake blaz- ing- homes, ruined altars, hecatombs of slain." Crom- well and his men went with psalm-sini^ino^ to their butchery, and an example of their fanaticism may be seen in the incident wliere a youns;' Puritan, who lay dying on the b.-Utlefield, told Cromwell, who bent over him, that the one thing th.'it la\' on his spii'it was that Ood had not suffered him to be an\- more the executioner of his enemies. Cromwell thus men- tioned Prince Rupert's men: "Cod made them as stubble to our swords." Creen's I fislory of the flii^- lisli J\'oplc says: "Among tlu- bitter nu-mories which ])art Ireland from h'.ngland. the memor\' of the blood- shed and confiscation which the Puritans wrout^ht go Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. remains the bitterest; and the worst curse that an Irish peasant can hurl at his enemy is the ' Curse of Cromwell.' Mor© than forty thousand of the beaten Irish were permitted to enlist for foreign service, and found a refuge in exile under the banners of France and Spain. Thousands perished by famine and the sword; shipload after shipload were sent over the sea for sale in forced labor in Jamaica and the West Indies. No such doom has fallen on a nation of modern times." Cromwell describes his own acts at Drogheda: " I forbade them to spare any one in arm.s in the town. I think that night they put to the sword about two thousand men. Eighty then took refuge in the steeple of St. Peter's Church, whereupon 1 ordered the steeple to be fired. Of those in one of the towers, when they submitted their officers were knocked in the head and every tenth soldier killed, the rest shipped to Barbadoes. All the friars were knocked in the head promiscuously. Of the three thousand defendants, we put all to the sword." Then, as if to justify himself, he says: " It was done by the Spirit of God." Even Thackeray, writing of Drogheda, says: " Is not the recollection of this butchery enough to make an Irishman turn rebel?" Crom- well seized the lands for his own men, banishing the rightful owners to the wilds of Connaught. He sent Dublin — 0' Co unci! — Bin met — Croniwcll. 91 eighty thousand men to the sugar j^lantations of the Barl:)adoes. and so great were their sufferings that in six years hardl}- twenty were left. Mr. Froude says that CromweH's mission to Ireland was pacification, but the historian ]\Tacaulay says it was to extirpate the Irisli. Froude says. " that there was peace and the land was a garden." Father Burke replied: " Crom\\ell made a solitude and called it peace; his garden was a wilderness, five-sixths of the people per- ishing. A\"olves increased, until they came within a iew miles of Dublin's gates, and a premium was offered for their heads." He added in his lecture: " He would rather let by-gones be by-gones. but he would rise from his deathbed in defense of Ireland." This is laudable, but visiting these places and look- ing at their history, justice should be attempted, and these thoughts possess one at Drogheda. Mr. Froude came to America in 1872 to "a])peal," he said, "to an American jury for a verdict justifying Eng- land's right to occujiv and govern Ireland." Father Burke's biographer states that had Froude been unopposed, the result would have been dissension between Anglo and Irish Americans. Froude was scholarly. plausil)le, and had his lectures leisurely pre- pared; Father Burke was here on a religious mission and under orders from lu's superior. He was impor- tuned to re]5ly, but was out of health and unjirepared. 92 Meinorics of a Rcd-Lcttcr Siiiiuiier. A friend offered him the use of his hbrary; so, with the borrowed books, his love of couiitrv and the helo of God, he undertook and completed the masterly effort. The subject had excited great interest, and in the Academy of Music in New York, to audiences of five thousand people, he delivered five lectures in an able, convincing and courteous style. Fair-minded people said: "Why, here is an Irish friar fresh from the Old Sod, and he could teach you history the rest of your life!" I ha\'e in an old scrap-book a synopsis of one of his lectures, delivered at this time, every word from the depths of his honest, faithful Irish heart, vindicating Ireland's claim to the sympathy of the world. He AAas the typical Levite, humble and obedient as a child, hard working and forgetful of self, so full of merry quips and pranks, so gentle and tender. How l)eautiful is the climax to one of his sermons on the Immaculate Conception! " O Mother mine, O Mother of the Church of God, O Mother of all nations, O Mother that kept the faith in Ireland, that never, through temptation and suf- fering, lost her love of thee, I hail thee! As thou art in heaven to-nigdit, clothed with the sun of divine justice, with the moon beneath thy feet, upon thy head a crown of twelve stars, God's brightest gift, I hail thee, O Mother!" His tribute to Ireland is lovelv: "And I, far awav Dublin — 0'Co)i.iicll — Etiuntt — Croiinvcll. 93 from thy green 1)osoni, hail tliee, as the ])rophet of old l:)ehol(hng' the i^lains of the ])roniise(l land, and proclaim this da\- there is no land so fair, no si)ot on earth to l)e compared with thee, no island rising ont of the wave so beautiful as thou, that neither the sun nor the moon nor the stars of heax-en shine down upon anything so lovely as thee, O Erin!" Such was the man who put to confusion the scholarly Init prejudiced English historian Froude, who also re- ceived some hard whacks from our own James Meline, when taking up the cudgel so eti'ecti\-ely in defense of Mary, Queen of Scots. Air. Fronde's remarkable methods of presenting history arc^used the resentment of U'endell lMiillii)S also, and caused a general hue and cry among critics; but when James Meline's refutations appeared, there was a general interest aroused. Mr. Fronde's friends had arranged a series of lectures througiiout the United States for him, but unalde to face the de- mands for explanation oi some of his assertions, he canceled his engagements and returned to his own country. Mr. Theodore Konscvelt, in his Life of Cromi>.'cll, differs very materially from sexcral other writers of ecpially credible autlutrity. ilis n.'u"i"ati\'e is an a])ol- ogN', and near its close he sees a happy C()nse(|uence of Ireland's sulfermgs and persecutions, that " she 94 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. has not remained a Celtic nation, but shared in the expansion of the British race," — an opinion not likely to be shared by many. So, in his ambition to revolutionize the religious world, the historian Green says: " Every Puritan be- lieved his gun should be heard in the Castle of St. Angelo, and Rome itself bowed to Cromwell's great- ness." This led Cronnvell step by step to the crime of regicide, and at last, on an anniversary of the battle of Dunbar, " a storm that tore roofs from the houses and prostrated great forest trees, seemed a fitting pre- lude to the passing of such a soul, and the turbulent spirit was summoned to the tribunal of God." The Protestant Bishop Tanner says: " All the monasteries were in efit'ect great schools and places of hospitality, and besides the entertainment of trav- elers, relieved many poor every day." At the time of the so-called Reformation, Great Britain con- tained numberless schools, convents and monasteries. Oxford, for example, Avas founded by the Catholic King Alfred. One has only to open the pages of The History of the Rcfonnation, written by the Prot- estant William Cobbett, to be undeceived of many illusions. While on the subject of education here, I can not refrain from quoting an article by the Rev. Father Conaty, and published in the Worcester (Massachu- Ihibliii — O'CoimcU — Hinuicl — Croun^'ell. 95 setts) Spy, in repl)' to a statement 1)\- a minister on the "illiterate Irish." and laying the hlame on the Catholic Chnrch. I i"m only ([note here and there from this strong article. Tie says: " To understand the question thoroughly, it is necessary to read the historj' of Ireland at a per-'od wi.en she was Christian, Catholic and free, and compare her with Ireland, Catholic, but ruled by Protestant England, aided by an Irish Protestant Par- liament, and I think we shaM find thousands of reasons which made her, not a culprit and guilty of blame, but a victim and deserving of sympathy. Without wasting time on the story of Catholic Ireland's love for learning, it may be well to remember there is no doubt concerning her position in the world of letters from the fifth to the ele\'enth centuiies. Her name was sj'nony- mous with education. To her schools, famed for philosophy and literature, taught by her monks, students went from ever}' coun- try in Europe. Cordially welcomed, as Venerable Bede says, and often supplied with food and clothing gratuitously. So great was her renown that even children of the royal families went to her for education, as did Alfred the Great, or sent for her monks to act as tutors, as did the daughter of Charlemagne. Danish ^nd Norman invaders began the work of pillage and confiscation which the so-called period of the Reformation completed. The schoolmaster, the priest and wolf," Father Conaty continues, " were recognized by law as three wild beasts, and a reward of one pound was placed on the head of each. The Catholic parent could not teach his child at home, nor send him to other coun- tries for education, under penalty of loss of property, transporta- tion or death. While the Protestant had all the advantages of a school where his religion and letters were taught at the expense, often, of the Catholics, whose best land was confiscated and appropriated for school purposes. The Irish I'arliameiit, which 96 Memories of a Rcd-L.etter Summer. was Protestant, and landlord doomed five-sixths of the nation to perpetual ignorance. Ireland's crime was a thirst for knowledge without forfeiting religion. Catholic Ireland refused education under such conditions. Compare this state of Ireland, from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, under England, with Ireland from the fifth to the twelfth century, and who is to blame for the illiteracy! '' Paulding said: " England first denied them the mean? of improvement and then insulted them with the imputation of barbarism. For nearly a hundred years after the treaty of Limerick, in 1691, no Cath- olic school was tolerated in Ireland. During all these years Catholics risked everything to preserve, not only their faith, but some shreds of education. Children were smuggled to Europe, teachers were smuggled to Ireland, and under cover of a hedge or in the caves of the mountains, men who had occupied chairs of philosophy in Continental universities were found teaching the Irish peasants to read. Hunted from cover to cover, with scouts watching for the enemies' dragoons, the famous Nicholas Sher- rett, afterwards Archbishop of Galwa}^ taught a hedge school for years. " Since the removal of these dreadful restrictions, religious communities have established schools for the gratuitous educa- tion of Catholic poor. The Puritan is lauded for leaving home to save his conscience, while the Irish Catholic is upbraided for shunning an education which forfeited conscience. Previous to i860 no teacher, excepting by stealth, could speak of Ireland's battles for liberty, or the deeds of Irish heroes, but as they were misnamed Englishmen." I despair of giving justice to this article of heroic defense of the Irish people; it is too long to be quoted more freely. Dublin — O'CoimclI — Bmuict — Croiuzx'cll. 97 Returning" to Cromwell, it may be interesting to note a fact I ha\'e just read in a very old book in mv possession, that in the fourth generation after Charles the First and Oliver Cromwell, there was a marriage between their descendants. It is illustrated thus: Charles II. Lady Falconberg Lady Litchfield. Lady Russell. Earl of Litchfield. Sir Thomas Frankland. Earl of Litchfield. Diana Frankland. This old chronicle also states that King George the First could speak no English, and his Prime Min- ister, Sir Robert Walpole, no German, so they con- versed in Latin. (5^ CHAPTER VII. PARSONSTOWN, OR BIRR — LORD ROSSE'S TELE- SCOPES—IRISH CHARACTER — KILLARNEY — INNISFALLEN — TOM MOORE — GLENGARIFFE. We now proceed to Birr, or Parsonstown, con- taining in its vicinity recollections dear to one of our party. It has the usual history. Passing from the O'Carrolls, whose castle still stands — stormed, lost, and regained, — the title of Earl of Rosse was con- ferred on one of the Parsons family. Here are the famous Rosse telescopes. Rosse Castle is most beau- tiful, situated in a park whose verdure only Ireland can produce. In this neighborhood we never tired of our excursions. We enjoyed the novelty of riding in a jaunting-car, and, once accustomed to its sway, we chose it often as a means of locomotion. But once I had a prcT\oking experience. J. and I were to make a little trip c^ut to a farm, and we merrily set out on our jaunting-car. Alas, for me; some- thing went wrong on the affair on my side, and every revolution of the wheel gave me a hearty bounce. My arms ached from tr}-ing- to keej) my balance. My protests only brought the comforting assurance from our happy-g'o-lucky driver: " Sure it's only a bit of H fa Killanicv — fi'i'isfiillcn — Tom M oorc. 99 a houncc, nia'aiii; nou'II i;cl used to it." lMnall\- 1 (Iciuandcd to ho let do\\ii, and told tlk'ni to ooiitiiiiK' their )ounie\': I should \\an< slo\\l\- haek and lliey should o\erlake me. ^^trolliui^' aloui;' the eouutry road. I had a i;(_)od onpoiinuity to olxerxe the hog's and lurf eutters. The hoi^'s are a \ery interesting" slud\. Ik'sides I'uriiishin^' tui.'l, the\- ha\e heen ref- n,L;"es in the ancient da\s I'or the |)erseeute(l peojjle, who knew how to a\ oid the dangerous parts. \ al- uahle treasures, L;'reat trees, and ewn human hodies ha\e heen t()un' stood, on the top of a hilK within his recoUection one hnnth'ed families had homes, where now one man and a dog cared for the sheep and cattle ]iastnrc(l there. Eventually I reached the town, glad not to lie overtaken b}' my micomfortable vehicle and breezy driver, whom J. had taken wandering" over the fields. There is a salutation in use among the Irish people on entering a house, " God save all here," and the response, " God save you kindly." that evinces the kind, warm heart and then' ever-present thought of God. " In other lands they know not well How priceless is the lore That hedges with a sacred spell Old Ireland's cabin door; To those it is no empty sound Who think with many a tear Of long loved memories wreathing round The praj'er, ' God save all here.' " The old Gaelic language luay be re\ived, as stej^s are being taken, in our own coimtr}- also, for the study of the tongue in which the ancient bards rehearsed the deeds of earl\- warlike days. The following eloquent ])ravcr is one of the many handed down from remote ages, translated from the r,aelic. and nmch u.sed l'\' the faithful jieople: " 'I'he will of God may we do; the law of God ma\' we keep; I02 Memories of a Red-Lctter Snmuier. our own peryei'se will may we restrain; on our tongue may we put a bridle. Timely repentance may we make. On the Passion of Christ may we think; every offense of sin may we avoid; on our last end may we meditate. A blessed death may we attain. The music of the angels may we hear. The face of God may we see. Praising and loving Him may we be through all eternity." " Soggarth Aroon " is an affectionate appellation of the priest, and these lines are very touching, as evincing the love of home in the heart of an Irish exile: "Oh, Soggarth Aroon! sure I know life is fleeting; Soon, soon in the strange earth my poor bones will lie ; I have said my last praj^er and received my last blessing, And if the Lord's willing, I'm ready to die. But, Soggarth Aroon ! can I never again see The valleys and hills of my dear native land? When my soul takes its flight from this dark world of sorrow. Will it pass through old Ireland to join the blest band? " Oh, Soggarth Aroon ! sure I know that in heaven The loved ones are waiting and watching for me ; And the Lord knows how anxious I am to be with them In the realms of joy, with the souls pure and free. Yet, Soggarth, I pray, ere you leave me forever. Relieve the last doubt of a poor, dying soul. Whose hope, next to God, is to know that when leaving, 'Twill pass through old Ireland on the way to its goal." Miss Mulholland beatitifuUv tells of an Irish exile. Killanicy — hinisfallcii — Tom Moore. 103 wild liad carried with liim to the New World a few hlocks of turf fi-oin the lioine 1)0!^', and when partic- iilarK' homesick, would lnu'u a hit on the chiuuiev- piece as one would a pastille, and weep a heart ful he- fore the last white ash had fallen, seeing in its red heart visions of home, and breathing in its fragrance more gratefnll)- than choicest perfume. Traditions abound, and here, in the land of romance, fairy tales and sacred associations, one takes delight in listening to and tr\ing to l)elie\e then.i. ( )ne exists among the ])easantr}' of {placing a chair b\- the clean-swept hearth on the eve of All Souls' Day for the welcome of some dear one ])assed away. I )ur (hi\-er took us respectfully around St. Kier- nan's bush, growing inmiediately in the middle of the road. Xo one might remove this; but one per- son had undertaken to defy the rule, and in cutting at the bush, had cut oFf his own arm. While visit- ing this ])lace, we had good opportunit\' to stud\- Irish character under most favorable aus])ices. and some of our cxi)eriences combined circimistances both amusing and pathetic. I ha\e just read such a touching eulogy on the " Irish Mother." detining so completely the character which has gifted her chil- flren with those pure and steadfast traits which dis- tinguish them: the slu'ew dness, the pathos, the poc- tr\-. that makes them the onl\ nation with a musical I04 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. instrument for an emblem, the shamrock-wreathed harp. A few lines from this eulogy say: " I wonder if she is still in the old land, the blessed Irish mother, who put a cap around her comely face between the twenties and the thirties, and covered her brown waves from sight. To her simple soul, marriage meant consecration, and her faith in the divine right of husbands was unshaken by any little weaknesses. What confidence she reposed in the brave boys, that overtopped her at sixteen! Her unquestioning trust and earnest teachings kept them pure and honest in their early days, and later, when they discovered that the dear mother was only a simple,' illogical, unlet- tered w^oman, their loyalty and devotion deepened to find what Avonders she had w^orked with her few talents. What a tragedy Shakespeare could have woven around her, haunted all her life by a phantom ship at anchor in some harbor, waiting until the chil- dren of her love were old enough to take passage and leave her forever! How sorrowful must have been her joy when seeing them rise to the stature of men and women! I wonder if she is still in the old land, stealing out of the lonelv home at nightfall and look- ing with her tender eyes always westward! And when no one is by, falling on her knees and lifting her hands in such intensity of supplication that they touch the hem of His garment, and the blessings fall Killantcy — Imiisfallcii — Tom Moore. 105 on her flesh and l)loo(l in the far-oil" land, and her faith has made them whole. If flowers, emblematic of then- li\-es, conld sprino- from the dust i)eneath. it would he eas^• to hnd the graves of the Irish mothers. Roses would be clustered in the emerald moss around the head, violets at the feet, and among the sweetest of the clover Idossoms, just al)ove the heart, there woiild be lilies." From Parsonstown, or Birr, we continued our journey, im|)atient for the enchanted Lakes of Kil- larney. How sad that, with all Nature has done for Ireland, her people should still see such faint hopes of rescue from the oppression of cenrunes through which she has passed! A'et, may not the hand of Providence be seen even here? Driven by want and fiercest persecution from their native land, the Irish have been the apostles of the Faith all over the world, where their faithful hearts have carried and kept it. Denied their own country and flag, their blood has been laxishl}' shed wherever England has sent ihcm. or their adopted cr)untries liax'C had need of their strong arms. Witness Patrick Sarsfield, enlisted in the French service, and falling in 1693 grasping his heart's blood and raising his hand to heaven, cried: " Oh, that this was shed for Ireland!" In the history of our own countr\- no names stand hiirher on its io6 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. annals than those of Erin's sons. They appear in the Continental Congress and as signers of our Declara- tion of Independence. During the darkest hours of our revolutionary struggles, when Washington united with Congress in an appeal for pecuniary help, twenty-seven members of the " Friendly Sons of St. Patrick " contributed over a half million ot dollars, and Thomas Fitzsimmons, a member of the Continental Congress, alone subscribed twenty-five thousand dollars to the loan for carrying on the war. Mr. Galloway, Speaker of the Pennsylvania Assem- bly, being questioned as to the nationality of the Continental army, answered, "One-half were Irish." " Saucy Jack Barry," as he was called, wore the title of the " Father of the American navy." George VV. P. Custis asked for " eternal gratitude to the Irish nation " in commenting on the part taken in those dark days. Mr. Thomas Murray collected the names of two hundred and fifty Irish soldiers in the Revolution bearing the name of Patrick. As to the women, their deeds in pestilential places and on the battlefields as nurses need no comment. Some one, writing of the Irish people, said: "They have sailed over every ocean, They have lived under every star, And the world's cold faith and devotion Grow warmer wherever thej' are. Klllanicy— I I'.iiisfiillcii — Tuni M Oi)rc. 107 "The coUa<;f llK-y'\-t' l)uill on Ihf ])rairiL', 'I'lu- (.■liurcli tlu-\' lia\r raist'cl oii [hv wild, Ami arouiiil ihv whok- world Ihc 'Hail Mary' Is lis])(.'d by Ihr Irislmian's idiild." Tlieir ])()cts liaxc siiiil;' llie sweetest songs. What could l)e sweeter lliaii this of Dennis Florence AlcC\artliy: " Ah, my heart is wear}' waiting, Waiting for the May, Waiting- for the pK;asant ranililcs, Wlu'i'c tlu' fragrant hawthorn brambles With the woodbine aUernating Scent the dewy way; Ah, my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May." At McCarthy's death, I-'ather Kelly wrote a mcni( inam, hcgiiniing: " Nevermore your heart will weary, Wailing for the May; Nevermore, sweet Celtic .singer, March and Api-il. when tlu'v linger, Will appear as dark and dreary As they did that day, Wlu-n your sighing Iieart was weary, \\'aiting U^r the May." Trcland's hraim iiu'ii have excelled in statcs- niaiishi]); licr l)r;i\e ]M"icsls ha\e f()ll()\\ed the exiled C'hm'ch inlo caws ami fastnesses, knowino- of ilu> price set on ihcir hcad>. and l.aiudn liic xotino- c]\\\ io8 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. dren, who were denied education but in an alien faith, under the hedges, or wherever sheher could be obtained, and have followed the soldiers to the battlefields, or gone fearlessly into pest-ridden places to minister to the sick and dying. ^ Her noble women have been no less courageous. Go where you will, and meet in any walk of life an extraordinary woman, it is not very difficult to go Imck far enough to find a streak of "Irish blood. Even the heavens weep over Ireland's woes; yet to them have been given light hearts and poetic natures, to which their fairy tales and fireside legends are ever true. Every rock has its name, every island its story. No nation loves more their own country; her sorrows bind their hearts to her more firmly. One young Irish poet has particularly voiced the heart-cry of his people. I select but two verses: " I would rather live in Ireland, and the thought comes from my heart ; I would rather toil in Ireland, on the barest, bleakest part. Spurned by every village magnate, smote by every minion's hand, Than abide in pomp and panoply in any other land. " I would rather live in Ireland, for although the spoiler's breath Locust like, may sweep her valleys, spreading ruin,, dearth and death, Still it can not still the sunshine, and it can not yet, thank God, Hush the murmurs of the river, chase the shamrock from the sod." a o k'illaniry — finiisfallcii — Tom Moore. 109 The Irisli ])casaiU has no encoui'ag'cinenl to make his place aUracli\"e, as it would thus only conunand more rent. A popular Irish writer says: " Ireland is the land of jioetry. It is tlie country of traditions and memories; the country of the ideal. Monuments of epic combats, of the royal splendors of religious faith, co\'er her soil. The humblest peasant toils under the shadow of ruins that tell him his father- were not slaves. These ruins, in the field bedewed by the sweat of his brow, speak to him of ages past, and repeat within his heart the echo of the voices of heroes, of sages and of saints." At our Killarncy hotel, three miles from the town, we were awakened every morning by one of the "Come all ye's" of an old blind man who walked out every morning and sang with great gusto. His rep- ertoire was extensive. Verse after verse rolled from his tongue of Irish ballads. One our young people occasionally recall: " I'or she was a charming young maiden, on the green, sunn\' banks of the Lee." Clean, fresh, cheerful, his eighty-two years sat lightly on him, and he received the pennies thrown him from coaches and hotel windows with the usual blessings, and wished for good luck to the giver. If the little curly head of our parly fall heir to all the blessings hca])e(l upon him, he will be rich inkni ot my iiritivc land, By tender love kept frcsli and green, The pressure ot an '.nifelt liand. Tile kisses of a lip unseen: A tlirol) from my dead mother's heart, -My fatlu-'s smile re\ived once more, Oh. }-onlh ! oh, lo\e! oh, hope thou art, Sweet shan-rock from tlie Irish shore." IJlarne}' Castle is one of the oldest and most strongly built, and its romatnic history is not exceeded hv any other in Ireland. It helonoed to the McCarthys, and man\- and 1"ii.l;' were the contests for its possession. IJnilt on a rock, with w.'ills eighteen feet thick, it could withstand e\en so \igorous a siege as that laid to it by Cromwell. William of Orange was more successf'.il in his attacks. Tradition sa\s thai much treasure was thrown into the lake, the secret to be passed, only \erbally, from one to another, until the McCarth\'s come nmo iheir own, when it shall be recoN'ered. The famous stone has been the subject of nnich conjecture. Some su])posed it to be a I )ruidical talisman. halher Trout wrote an anuis- ing and interesting account of it. We strolled down by the lake and wandered through the " C,ro\-es of l)larne\'," fancied the eiudiauled cows that pasture I20 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. here, and wished we could meet the poor Lord of Blarney, who once a. year walks out of the lake, long- ing to be addressed, for he may not first break the silence. Hugh O'Neill is remembered, and legends are told of a troop of the great chief's lancers lying in a trance in a cave, each holding in his hand his horse's bridle, waiting for the spell to be broken, that they may strike for their country; and once, when a traveler entered the cave where they were lying, one raised his head and asked: " Is it time?" We often wished for the vivid imagination to see the fairies dancing on the green. On Sunday we attended Mass at St. Matthew's Church, ai'id after lunch our party separated, to fol- low their own fancies. I had long wished to hear the " Bells of Shandon, that sound so grand, on the pleasant waters of the river Lee." So I bade a cabman take me there. The foundation is old, but the present church modern. It is known as " Shan- don Bells," and the obliging sexton rings the bells for tourists, who, of course, do not forget the usual tip. The Reverend Thomas O'Mahony, better known as Father Prout, has made it famous. I went to his tomb and plucked from beside it a bit of wall- flower, and asked the sexton : " Why do he and his family lie here?" " Oh, they have a right," he re- plied, " as this ground was all once consecrated." Cork — Paris — Versailles. 1 2 1 The inner church was modeled for a different style of worship, and we were shown into the crypt by an out- side door, where cotT[ins were stacked, tier upon tier, some even exposing the poor skeletons. There was not the least odor. I could not learn why this most unchristian act was permitted. Next, I bade my driver take me to the grave of Gerald Grififin, whose writings I always so much admired. Of course cabby did not know where to go, but I directed him to the monastery, and we entered the long, winding drive, where, as we reached the front door, we met a monk, to whom I made my errand known. I told him I was from Kentucky, and he was much interested to hear from America. He courteously directed me to the little cemetery, and here, marked by a simple stone, with the inscription, " Gerald Griffin," his age and the date of his death, I knelt a moment with a prayer for the pure soul of the genius who lay be- neath, h little flower from his grave was added to my souvenirs. As the driver held open the carriage door for me, he permitted himself the ejaculation: " Well, now, would you think it? A lady clear from Ameriky to see this grave, and there be thousands in Cork who know nothing of him." Besides Griffin's numerous prose writings, his poetry was also very fine. I have so much admired his lines on a Sister of Charity, beginning: (6) 122 Memories of a Red- Letter Summer. " Her down bed a pallet, her trinkets a bead, Her luster, one taper that serves her to read, Her sculpture, the crucifix nailed by her bed. Her paintings, one print of the thorn-crowned head. Her cushion, the pavement that wearies her knees. Her music, the psalm or the sigh of disease. The delicate lady lives mortified there And the feast is forsaken for fasting and prayer." The Cathedral of Finbar is very fine, built on the site of a Druid temple. The remains of the saint, who died in 630, were afterwards placed here in a silver case. The grounds are connected with sacred memories, as the burial place of many holy people. Father Mathew, the great temperance advocate, has here a memorial chapel and a fine bronze statue, and his name is revered by all, without respect to creed. While in Ireland we must remember that name so dear to the hearts of her people, St. Patrick. It is very amusing to hear of some of the sects trying to claim him. I will quote what I have read in some ancient chronicles preserved by the Irish Archaeolog- ical and Celtic Society. This old story goes on to say that in the year 851, the fifth year of the reign of Maelsechlainn, or Malachi, a terrible naval battle occurred between the invading Danes and the Loch- lanns, or Norwegian settlers, near what is now Carl- ingford Lough. The Danish chief said to his people, who had been defeated: " I,ook sharp to the battle Cork — Paris — Versailles. 123 Avhich you shall next wage with the Lochlanns. This Saint Patrick, against whom these enemies of ours have committed many evils, is Archbishop and head of the saints of Erin. Let us pray to him fervently, and let us give honorable alms to him for our gaining victory and triumph over them!" They all answered him: " Let our protector be the holy Saint Patrick, and the God who is Lord over him also!" The next battle was a hard-fought one. The whizzing of lances, the clashing of swords, the clattering of shields, the shrieks of soldiers when subdued, were heard. But the Lochlanns were defeated, and the Danes gained a victory on account of the tutelage of Saint Patrick, although the Lochlanns were three or four times their number. This battle gave good courage to the native Irish on account of the defeat of the Lochlanns. King Malachi sent ambassadors to the Danes, and found the victors cooking over the dead bodies of their slain enemies. These Scandina- vians were pagans, whose delight was in war; they drank from the skulls of their enemies and indulged in other like fierce pastimes. So it reads strangely that they should resort to Saint Patrick. Returning to Dublin, I much desired to visit the "sweet vale of Avoca," the scene of "the meeting of the waters," so sweetly sung of by Tom Moore, and endeared to me by recollections of a dear mother's 124 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. cradle songs; but we had been misinformed as to time and distances, so after reaching Bray, we were obhged, in order to return the same day, to content ourselves by driving about between trains, and visit- ing Powerscourt, with its beautiful waterfall and deer park, and the charming Dargle. Leaving Ireland, we could heartily echo Moore's words, " The last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see," and — " As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still looked back To that dear land 'twas leaving." " First tlower of the earth and first gem of the sea, More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom and thy showers, Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours." Now we return to London to prepare for our trip to France, and find it hard to leave again. Although called the wickedest city in the world, the police reg- ulations are very fine. The " Bobby," as an ofHcer is called, is especially the terror of the small boy, but he is also the protector of the traveler, the guide to everywhere, an encyclopedia of general knowledge, and courteous to all. Serenely he stands in the middle of the Babel of the London streets; he but raises his finger, and the whirling speed of cars, cabs and heavy wagons is stopped as if by magic, while the frightened pedestrians, fleeing for life, regard him Cork — Paris — Versailles. 125 as an ang-el of deliverance. One wise provision Lon- don has. In the middle of a wide street there will he a little curhed space, with a gas lamp, and the line of drivers must strictly keep to their own side, so per- sons wishing to cross must watch their chance from one' sidewalk, and landing safely in the center refuge, watch an opportunity to reach the opposite curb. So we go hither and thither for a parting glance, grudg- ing almost the time for meals. Some day I hope to come again, when time presses not so strongly, and visit the land of iVrthur; go into Cornwall, to Tin- tagel, Camelford, and Caerleon, and with Tennyson or Sir Thomas Mallory in hand, visit the birthplace of Arthur the Good, Merlin the Wise, Guinevere, the beautiful but false and bitterly repentant Queen; Elaine the Lily, Tristan and Yseult, Launcelot and Gawain, and try to follow Sir Galahad in his quest of the Holy Grail. Cadbury is supposed to be Camelot, the favorite spot for the assembling of the Knights of the Round Table. All England claims Arthur, but here is the spot where legends ma\- be better traced to a foundation. The little river Camel — " Frantic ever since her Britisli .Xrthur's blood, By Mordred's murtlicrous hand, was mingled with her flood " still rr)lls its course along. 1 shall look for the waters 126 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. into which Sir Bedivere cast Excalibur by the King's command. "And the hand reached forth and caught and brandished it three times," and dream of the riders "in white samite with silver shedde, ivory saddle and white steed, each Knight in green habit, with olive branch in his hand, betokening peace." But before leaving England I would pay a tribute to the lovely summer weather we there enjoyed. Hawthorne's words do so much more justice than I could, that I shall quote him: " Each day seemed endless, though never wearisome. The EngHsh summer day seems to have no beginning and no end. When you awake at any reasonable hour, the sun is already shining through your curtain; you live through unnumbered hours of Sabbath quietude, with a calm variety of incident softly etched upon their tranquil lapse; and again you become con- scious that it is bedtime again, while there is still enough day- light in the sky to make the pages of your book distinctly legible. Night, if there be any such season, hangs down a transparent veil, through which the bygone day beholds its suc- cessor; to-morrow is born before yesterday is dead." From New Haven to Dieppe we select our route to France, and knowing the reputation of the Channel for its bad treatment of travelers, expected to be roughly used, but by keeping bravely on deck, we escaped seasickness, and drew up beside the pier at Dieppe. The first sight to greet the eye was an im- mense crucifix on the quay; and we wondered to see Cork — Paris — Versailles. 127 women working beside the b]ue-l)loused men, tug- ging at the ropes attached to the boats. We tim- orously cHmlied the steep incHne, delighted to set foot in France, for we should always have a fraternal feeling for the country that aided us as struggling colonies in our war for independence. Passing through Rouen, with its memories of Jeanne D'Arc, we reached Paris in the evening, meeting by ap- pointment a courier who had been recommended to us by some acquaintances. Of course our first business the next day was a trip to the great Exposition, and so for several days we dutifully gave it our undivided attention; later returning at intervals. The moving sidewalk, with its amusing experiences; the EifTel Tower, most won- derful in its inception and execution; the Trocadero and shows of different nationalities; Old Paris, the galleries, and endless varieties of objects, with trips up and down the Seine, were bewildering. \Yt hailed our own beautiful Stars and Stripes over the United States Building. Onlv ^vhen in foreign lands can we fairly appreciate its b>"auties, for then the homesick heart greets with deserved affection its glorious star- spangled foUls. Some one has said: " Man never made, and nature never produced, anything more beautiful than the American flag." On the 14th of July the fall of the Bastile was eel- 128 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. ebrated, and all Paris ran wild. During the day there was a steady marching and reviewing of troops, and one would think that half the world was at Long- champs; but it remained for nightfall to cap the climax. Such illuminations, and setting off of fire- works, and people dancing madly on the streets! Intoxicating Paris! What a study for the more cold- blooded stranger! We hear martial music, and here comes a great array of soldiers in their clumsy look- ing uniforms of blue, with red, baggy trousers, ap- pearing very slovenly to us, accustomed to the trim appearance of our spick and span American troops. Presently another band appears, and some one starts up a song; some begin to dance; Bedlam seems loose. Perhaps this crowd scarcely passes, when a funeral comes along. All is hushed and every head uncov- ered as the dead passes. Then we hear the shrill notes of a pipe; a shepherd rounds the corner with a flock of goats, and they are stopped at doorways or where^'er any one asks for a glass. Fast upon this pastoral scene whirls the very modern automobile, scattering people in all directions. For the first weeks we can only stare and wonder and tramp around industriously, then settle down to view things more calmly. On Sunday we go to the Madeleine for holy Mass, and remain afterwards to study this historic structure, so beautiful in its Gre- His Demuckatic I In, ii nkss. Cork — Paris — Versailles. 129 cian architecture. Later we drove to Notre Dame, the great center of religious interest in Paris. The foundation dates back twelve hundred years. The first view is disappointing, but time and many changes have altered the surroundings. It was once a])- proached by a fiiglit of steps, but is now level willi the street. If these old walls could speak, what won- ders they could tell! Peter the Hermit preached here the first crusade, about IT95; the people, seized with his own enthusiasm, raising their battle-cry: " God wills it; God wills it." It was here, in the rev- olution of 1793, that a woman was enthroned as God- dess of Reason, and worshiped with wild orgies ac- cordingly, while a statue of our Blessed Lady was removed to make way for one of Liberty. The hor- rible desecration cau.sed the church to be closed for several years, but it was afterwards opened for wor- ship by Napoleon, who said: " No nation can exist without religion." During ilie frightful scenes of the Commune, in 1S71. it was again desecrated, used as a military deixjt. and when the Communists were driven out. they attempted to burn it. Tlic treasury contains most precious articles; the martyred I!isho])'s relics are also here. While gazing on the towers and reflecting on the stormy scenes they have witnessed, the great bell tolled out. its deep tones impressing one still more with the solenm memories. 130 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. The Pantheon is built over the tomb of St. Gene- vieve, the patron saint of Paris. This grand build- ing has several times been changed from temple to church, and back again. Victor Hugo lies here; Marat and Mirabeau were once here, but were re- moved. Monuments to Voltaire and Rousseau seem out of place under the same roof with the painting of St. Denis, the baptism of Clovis, and St. Genevieve imploring Attila the Hun to spare Paris. The paint- ings are very fine and instructive, showing the inti- mate connection of the life of St. Genevieve with Parisian history. On the heights of Montmartre, or Hill of the Martyrs, which has been the scene of many bloody contests, now rises a church dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The cemetery of Pere la Chaise has even been occupied by soldiers, and several hotly contested en- gagements took place here, both by foreign and civil troops. Probably in no other modern cemetery lie so many known to fame in various walks of life. The National Guards, who fell in the defense of Paris, are gratefully remembered. In the center of the main avenue is the grand " Monument aux Morts" — People pressing forward to the portals of the tomb, over which several have already passed; and the artist has well depicted the varying emotions of each. The actress Rachel, Le Fontaine, Moliere, Victor Cork — Paris — Versailles. 131 Noir, killed by Pierre Bonaparte in a duel; Balzac, Beranger, Rossini's memorial, as his bod}' was re- moved to Florence; Alfred de Musset, whose own beautiful lines are inscribed on his monument; Chopin, Cherubini, Auber, Wilhelm and Bellini, Thiers the statesman, St. Hiliare, Marshals Massena and Lefebre, Sir Sydney Smith, Napoleon's conqueror in 1799; Michelet, Due de Morny, and many others whose names have been written high in the annals of fame; also, Abbe Sicard, who w^as so interested in the education of the deaf mutes; and the much visited tomb of Abbe Abelard and Heloise, with bronze effigies. The good Louis Veuillot lies in the ceme- tery of Mont* Parnasse. his tomb bearing the simple inscription, "I have believed; now I see." His last poem has been frequently translated. The following is one which obtained a prize, offered some years ago for the best: " Place by my side my pen, — it lells my story, Upon my heart the crucifix, — my glory, And underneath my feet the Book must rest, Then seal the coiTin lid above my breast; After the lingering last prayer has been said, Plant on my grave the cross, above my head. And if some friend should give me then a stone, ' I have believed, I see' carve there alone; Say then, my friends, ' fit sleeps' to those who ask, Completed miw ami finished his hard tasks, 132 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Or rather say, ' He wakes.' He sees at last The things that he has dreamed and sleep is past. In Jesus is my hope; in all the strife His word has been my guide through this sad life; Before His Father's throne, at the last day He will acknowledge me, nor say me nay." In some of these tombs are reminders to the Hving to pray for the souls of those whose ashes He beneath, and we recite a De Profimdis to their appeal. From the quiet spot, where their once busy feet are forever at rest, we turned again to the busy Paris streets. Home for luncheon and rest, and again we go out, along the g-reat thoroughfare, the Champs Elysee, to the Place de la Concorde, where the terrible guillo- tine once stood. Here were executed Louis Six- teenth and Marie Antoinette, who' went with head erect to her death, knowing that absolution awaited her from an upper window. There was Madame Eliz- abeth, the King-'s sister, whose noble spirit inspired her last words: " I have made to God the sacrifice of my life; I go now to rejoin in heaven those whom T have so much loved on earth." The brutal execu- tioner had disarrang"ed her kerchief. " In the name of your mother, cover me, sir," she commanded, and she was obeyed. The father of King Louis Philippe, Charlotte Corday, and numberless others, here met death. Guizot says: " The concergerie contained Cork — Paris — Versailles. 1 33 great lords and noble ladies, bearing the most illus- trious names in the history of France. Madame La- fayette was here awaiting death, but happily she did not recognize in the hoarse voice of the criers, who called off each day the list of those who " had gained the prizes in the lottery of St. Guillotine," the cher- ished names of grandmother, mother and sister. Truly the reign of terror was here; in a little more than two years twenty-eight hundred persons met death by the ax. As if in retribution, Danton, Des- moulins, and other leaders, finished up the list; even Robespierre himself, after attempted suicide. The Egyptian obelisk here, presented by the Vice- roy of Egypt, is from the time of Rameses Second, as hieroglyphics show. The magnificent Vendome Column was erected by Napoleon to celebrate his victories, and is an imitation of the Trajan Column at Rome, with its spiral rows of figures. It figiu"ed largely in I'arisian troubles, from alterations and de- facements, to final o\erturning l)y tlie Connnunc in 1871, but it was re-erected, and is one of the city sights. The Palace of the T.ouvre barely escaped destruction (hiring tlic Conunnne. This is closely connected with tlic llui^iu'iiot troubles, of which so many coullirting stories are told. The art collec- tions, to wliicli it is now de\'oted, are priceless, con- sistini^' of liiiili modern and anti(ine, Roman, Egyp- 134 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. tian, Phoenician and Greek; among them the famous Venus de Milo. The gardens of the destroyed Tuileries Palace are very beautiful. The Arc de Triomphe occupies an eelvation, from which radiate twelve differtent boule- vards, and resembles the arches in Rome, built to commemorate great battles. This one contains the names of Napoleon's famous victories and magnifi- cent bas reliefs. We take the avenue to the Bois de Boulogne, and enter this grand park of over two thousand acres. It was once a dangerous wood, in- fested with evil characters; but being presented to the city, it was improved and beautified. We had pointed out to us here the residence of our American Countess, Anna Gould Castellane. My democratic blood was stirred a little on passing this mansion, re- calling the slurs often cast on our American girls as willing to make any sacrifice for a title. One gentle- man in a group of Americans ahead of us began loudly and defiantly to whistle " Yankee Doodle." The Column of July now marks the spot occu- pied by the dread Bastile for nearly four hundred years. During the revolution of 1789 the Bastile fell, after a fearful struggle. The head of Delauny, the Governor, was carried on a pike, and all the scenes of horror were enacted of which the French people, under frantic excitement, are capable. T Cork — Pans — Versailles. 135 have seen the key of the Bastile at Mount Vernon, where Lafayette had presented it to our own Wash- ington. I was told that vaults, under the column erected here, contain the bodies of those who fell in defense of the Castle, as well as some of the victims of the Revolution of 1848. On one of the barricades erected in the streets then, the venerable Abbe Afifre fell, while attempting to quell the rioting. One of the permanent attractions of Paris is the Eiffel Tower, a monument to the wonderful skill of its engineer, for whom it is named. Nine hundred and eighty-four feet in height, it rises above any tower known in history. It was included in the Exposition grounds, and some of our party proposed the ascent. I went to the first platform, nearly two hundred feet al)ove ground, took tea, and prome- naded around its immense area to look at the shops and view the illuminated grounds, but declined to go higher, as even from here the people below looked almost like ants; and, descending, was glad to be safely on terra firma. The second platform, three hundred and eighty feet above ground, contains a theater. From this ])lace a fine view is had of Palais du Trocadero, on the opposite bank of the Seine, approached by a fine bridge, Pont d'Jena, completed in 1830 to commemorate the battle. The tomb of Napoleon I. lies imdcr the dome of the In- 136 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. valides. Here might well be inscribed, "After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.'" The mighty man, before whom Europe once trembled, dying in exile, like a caged eagle, lies here a handful of dust. According to his wishes, that his body might repose on the banks of the Seine, it was brought here from St. Helena in 1840. Near him are his beloved Generals Duroc and Bertrand, while above him, in mournful drapery, are the flags captured in battle. The mosaic pave- ment about the tomb bears the names of notable battles, and all that human aid could bring, through art, to do him honor, seems done. Two sarcophagi contain the remains of his brothers, Joseph and Jerome, the latter figuring in our own history as the husband of our beautiful countrywoman, Elizabeth Patterson, but whom he was obliged to repudiate through Napoleon's am1)ition. The Palace of Versailles takes another day. Through a long avenue of stately trees, whose branches, meeting above us, formed an arbor, we approached the great Parade in front of the Palace. Its foundation was in 1624, but later Louis Four- teenth, the Grand Monarch, continued its erection and decoration. He would not be forgotten, for we are confronted at every turn by his statue, or paint- ing, or something to remind us of them. This Palace has occupied a prominent position in the history of Cork — Paris — Versailles. 1 37 I'rancc. The ^rouiuls, dcsii^ncd l)y Lenotrc, to- gether with the roads leachng here, cost two huiuh'cd millions alone. The fountains arc marble, the water having to be forced up hill. The " Royal Walk," with its carefully tended sward, lined with statuary, and leading from the front of the Palace to the foun- tain, is a dream. Turning to the Palace, we pass through room after room decorated by Vernet and Lebrun's paintings, gold, marble, satins, Ck)belin tapestries, magnificence piled upon magnificence. The various galleries contain priceless paintings; and to the honor of the German soldiers, when this place was occupied by them, after the conquest of France by Germany in 1871. nothing was mutilated nor de- stroyed, but the paintings covered and protected. In (he " Glass Gallery " the King of Prussia was pro- claimed Emperor of Germany; Queen Victoria was entertained when visiting Napoleon III. in 1855; and here in 1(804 ^''^is vScventh gave a Pontifical bene- diction. Under the new Republicm form, President Carnot presided at a grand function. As we strolleernadette was bap- (7) 146 Memories of a Red-Letter Stiminer. tized, and learned with regret that it is to be demol- ished and rebuilt. Around the little town many curious customs were observed; and here, as in many other places. we saw cows used as beasts of burden, sometimes hitched to a wagon wath a donkey. Here among the Pyrenean scenery, so close to Spain, we noted many pilgrims in their peculiar dress, and drove for miles thrpugh the mountains. Doctor Verger, a learned physician, Fellow of the Faculty of Montpelier, has made searching investiga- tion of miracles at Lourdes. He says: " I am asked what I have seen at Lourdes. In answer a few words will suffice. I have seen well authenticated facts — facts beyond the power of science or art; works wrought b}' hand of the Divinity. Miracles! I have seen natural water gifted with supernatural powers. I have seen this water restore to health a child in the agony of death. I have seen it restore sight to an eye injured beyond any aid from science. I have seen it restore life and movement to totally para- lyzed limbs; I have seen it cure ulcers of the worst description. Such were some of its first operations. The harvest has been rich, abundant, and of long duration." Thanking God for having permitted us to visit this holy spot, we returned to Paris, with its funny Loiirdcs — Aiiti^crf' — ]l\itcr.hio — Cologne. 147 looking" horses, with straw hats for protection from the sun and heavily fringed hoofs, like pantalettes; the sidewalks crowded with little tables, at which people sit, merrily dining, drinking or smoking. At the hotel, with its "rosbif," which we do not accept without a doubt, we at last pack our belongings for departure, l)i(lding farewell to the good madame,who, with her English-speaking husband, has endeavored to niake pleasant the stay and comforting the meals, as nearly as possible to the tastes of the American ladies. The French women seem to have an apti- tude for business, and in many shops we visited took precedence of the husband. Here our party separated, some taking cars for Cherbourg, where they embarked for the States. Business calling us to London for a few days, we embarked from there for Antwerp, thinking, as the name suggests itself, of the "Ankworks package," by which Sairey Gani]) saw the attem])tcd departure of Jonas Chuzzlewit and jjoor Mercy. I hope, for the ccjmfort of the tras'eling ])nblic. that the packet may not always be so crowded as when we took it, and three of us were crushed into tiny quarters with two talkative -English women, whose giggling merriment betokened numerinis libaticjus, a conunon custom among them. Entering the ri\cr Scheldt, we Sdnn reached the 148 Memories of a Red-Let fer Summer. old city of Antwerp, once queen of commerce, but now much reduced. The beautiful Cathedral towers are the first object to attract the eye. The bells seem to be ever ringing; the musical chimes like me- lodious notes tumbling over each other out of the sky. Rubens' masterpieces are here, the Elevation of, and the Descent from the Cross. I stood spell- bound before the former, as all was so real; the living muscles in the straining arms, the intent faces, the impending agony of the Divine Savior; one almost heard the words, "Father, forgive them!" A num- ber of Vandyck's pictures are also here. The massive pulpit was elaborately carved. We were shown a fine piece of iron work, reputed to be by the " Blacksmith of Antwerp," Ouentin Matsys, before he laid down the hammer for the painter's brush. He has a mon- ument on the public square. In a large space stood a screened statue of Our Lady, said to have miracu- lously appeared there, and around which the church was built eight hundred years ago. Of course we obtained the removal of the screen to inspect it. An hour's ride brings us to Brussels, the capital, and called the " Paris of Belgium." Our first visit was to the old Cathedral of St. Gudule, where the pulpit is a masterpiece of the carver's art. The base represents Adam and Eve being driven from Eden by the angel with the flaming sword. It seems in- pq Loiirdcs — Antwerp — Waterloo — Cologne. 149 cre(lil)le that this should be carved; one would think it must have grown so. The toml)S of the Dukes of Bra1)ant are here. The fiower market attracted us by its beauties, and the ride through the Bois de la Cambre was much like that through the Parisian Bois de Boulogne. The Church of Notre Dame du Sablon, or Churth of the Crossl)Owman, is very okl, and attending Mass here we noted, instead of pews, the European custom of renting chairs, used also as l^ric diciix. On this square are fine statues of Counts Egmont and Hoorn, decapitated in 1508 during the Spanish wars. A fountain is here, surrounded by ele- gantly fashioned iron railings, held in place by forty- eight stone pillars, each adorned l)y a smaller statue. One is everywhere confronted with memories of the struggles against the Spaniards. A grand equestrian statue of Godfrey de Bouillon, in Crusader's dress, stands on the spot where he aroused the people to enlist under the banner of the Cross in 1097, and being made the first King of Jerusalem, refused to wear the ro}'al crown where his Savior had worn one of thorns. The Palace of Justice and that of the King; the Bfjurse, Hotel de Ville — magnificence everywhere confronts the eye. Outside the city is the famed site of Waterloo. We could imagine how — 150 Memories of a Rcd-l,etter Summer. " There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd there Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men," when the gay revelers at the ball given by the Countess of Richmond heard the booming of the cannon that announced the opening of the battle, when WelHngton and Napoleon met on the fatal field which was the first step to St. Helena. Passing through Aachen, or Aix la Chapelle, we recalled memories of Charlemagne, of whom many relics are here, as also sacred relics of our Lord and his Blessed Mother in the ancient Cathedral, exhib- ited once in seven years. Like the Cologne Cathe- dral, his Satanic majesty is credited with the plan, stipulating to the architect that the first living being passing the door after its completion, should be his property, but a wolf was sent through first. A brazen wolf stands here, but whether to commemorate that fable or as a reminder of Romulus, during the early occupation by the Romans, is uncertain. Cologne comes next, with its inagnificent " Dom " overlook- ing everything; the great center of interest for tour- ists, for historic and religious interest. Founded twelve hundred years ago, one may easily believe that the present structure was eight hundred years in building. We also hear the legend of Satan's fur- Lotinics — - //,'/Ti'(',"/' — II 'atcvioo — i\ilogne. 151 nishing the plans in rctni'n for the architect's soul. The guide who directed us was not sure of the archi- tect who ])lanned it, l)Ut the name Gerald von Rile has been recognized. One l)eautiful legend con- nected with this grand edifice is that related of Albertus Magnus, the famed Dominican, who is buried here in the Church of St. Andre. Once, while engTossed in the idea of a grand cathedral, he had a vision, in which foiu' men with white cassocks, with crowns of burnished gold on their heads, entered his cell, followed by our T^ady in all her celestial beauty. One man bore a pair of compasses, the second a mason's square, the third a rule, and the fourth a le\-el. At a sign from our Lady, thev proceeded to sketch in lines of fire on the walls of the cell a mag- nificent plan. " The pillar's rose, the arches curved to meet them, and two majestic towers soared into the blue vault of heaven." The vision vanished, but the plan was traced on his memory, and he drew it and presented it to Archbishop Conrad. This was carried out. and the building rose from generation to generation, until it now stands a wonder of the world. Tn this connection T select these words from an address by an eloquent priest: " It is our faith, this vivid realization of the supernatural, that enabled men in ages long gone by, to rise superior to their 152 Memories of a Rcd-Lcttcr Snnirncr. mortal destiny and fashion works so grand and deathless, that we, in these late*- times, when faith is cold and weak, can but gaze upon them and admire, but never hope to imitate. It was ■ that faith, laboring not for time or man alone, but for eternity and God, that inspired the brush of Raphael and Murillo, the chisel of Angelo and the pen of Dante; that drew heavenly music from the soul of Mozart, and kindled the fire of matchless elo- quence in O'Connell's Irish breast. It was this faith, whose effects are the same in every age, that fired with most miselfish heroism the heart of man and gave the world that host of noble souls from John de Malha to Damien of Molokai." Returning to the Cathedral: Much to the shame of the French, they stabled their horses here, and rings in the walls still remain where they placed them. The Prussian Kings, Frederick and William, finally took the matter in hand, and saved the venerable pile, completing it in 1880. So solid, imposing, majestic, yet, taken in detail, how delicate each carven, taper- ing pinnacle! One interior column is eighty feet in circumference. One bell weighs twenty-five tons. In the treasury is the reliquary of the Magi, magnifi- cent, as becomes such a repository, with its gold, pre- cious stones, and elal:)orate workmanship. Among the many relics is a monstrance, a solid rock crystal, hollowed out and surrounded by precious stones, two thorns from our Lord's crown, links from St. Peter's chains, and the staff of his crosier. A curious crucifix from the ninth centurv is here, the crown of thorns Lourdcs — Aiitivcrh — Waterloo — Cologne. 153 absent, the sacred feet separately ])ierce(l, reciniring four nails; the wound in the side is not seen. A most remarkable painting- is liere, tlie " Dom- bild." a threc-wino-ed |)iece of work, set up in elegant framing", and dating from I-I50. One of the bells is called the Emperor's Bell, and is cast from cannon captured in the war with iM'ance in 1871. It bears a long Latin inscription, testifying to gratitude for the success of the (icrman arms. One side bears a figure of St. Peter, the other the German escutcheon, and \'erse translated reads: " I'm called the Enipcror's bell, the Kinperor's praise I tell. On holy ground I stand, and for German land, Beseech God may please to L^rant it peace and ease." A stained glass \\'ind()w from 1509 rci)resents the family tree of otu' v^avior. springing from Abraham. Tdcre is a gigantic statue '')f St. Christo])her, beai-ing the Christ Child, under whose tin_\- form the saint labors with straining nuisclcs; and we noted through Euro])e nuich. de\-oii(in to him ,-nid vSt. Roche, always represented willi his slafi" and dog. .\t the Cathedral we had the pleasure of witnessing a grand nuptial affair, and noted the customs, so strange to trs. In the Chin-ch of St. I'rstda, formerly k-nr)wu as the Cluu-ch i>\ the Virgins, are ranged .about the walls, in friezes ,'ind grim ilccdi'Ml i( ms. and vvcrv possible I 54 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. place, the bones of eleven thousand Virgins, who in 405, with St. Ursula, suffered martyrdom by the Huns under Attila. The story goes that at that time the Picts and Scots had so annoyed the Christians of the southern part of England, and the Anglo-Saxons, whose aid they had asked, had grown covetous, and had in turn made them miserable; many went to Ger- many to seek refuge under the milder Roman gov- ernment. St. Ursula, of noble birth and great vir- tues, became the center of pious females, whose fathers and brothers had either perished, or were with the armies. When the fierce Huns swept through the country, St. Ursula and her attendants were cruelly massacred by arrows, swords and clubs. Their pilgrimage to Rome is depicted in many places. In later years their bones were gathered, and this church was built on the spot. Those of the Saint were especially honored by a golden casket. Many of the skulls are in glass cases, encircled by silver bands, and some bear the marks of the cleaving sword. Here is also an alabaster water jar from Cana, brought to Cologne by a Knight from the Holy Land. In the Church of St. Gereon lie the bones of some of the martyred Theban Legion. The Church of St. Mary Capitola was founded by the grandmother of I.i'iinlcs — Aiitwcr[> — IWUcrloo — Cnlogiic. 155 Charlemaq'ne. Her tonil) is in the ery]n, the marble effig"}" iiuich worn by time. I'ortions of the original ehurch are well preserx-ed. and near by, below the pave, are remnants of a i\oman wall exposed. We observed a house, from the attic of which two wooden horses were looking out. They commemo- rate a remarkable event, which took place during the raging of the plague in 1400. The \\'ife of a noble gentleman was seized, and apparently died. Her wedding ring, which had 1)een left on her finger, was noted by the grave diggers, who attempted later to steal it. 'i'he effort awakened her from the trance in which she was, and, esca])ing from her opened coffin, she ran lo her husband's house, who refused lo admit her, saying: " My dearest wife is dead, and it were as possible for my horses to ascend to the top of the house and look out of the windows, as that she should return to life." Immediately the horses' feet were heard on the stairs, and they ascended, as he said. The wife was joyousl)' recogiu'zed, and lix-ed for years afterwards. The rn'ms of Cologne are ele\'en llames for the Virgins and lin-ee crowns foi- tlu' {\\\\-v Kings. in Cologne Rubens was born, and Marie de Medicis died. From Cologne we took steamer for a trip on the classic Rhine, along whose shores e\ery foot of 156 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. ground is historic. Here nearly all the great war- riors have fought, down to the present generation. Here on the Rhine is a hridge of boats. We spent considerable time in this old city, going and returning, and our memories of it are golden. The majestic '' Dom " seemed to overshadow everything. CHAPTER X. ON THE RHINE — RUINED CASTLES — LORELEI — BINGEN — LUCERNE — INTERLAKEN — MT. ST. BERNARD — HISTORIC ASSOCIATIONS. Leaving Cologne, the city of Bonn is soon passed, with its famous Univei\sity. It was the birthplace of Beethoven, and the foundation of one of the oldest Roman fortresses. Under the new Rhine bridge is a seated statue of Caesar, and here is one of the points where he crossed the Rhine. " Buttress, battlements and tower, Remnants hoar of Roman power. Monuments of Caesar's sway, Piecemeal mouldering away." We soon enter the moimtains and the ruined castles on the stony crags, recalling the days of the robl)er barons. Kach ruin has its legend. On the sunnnil of tlic liiglicst of tlie seven moimtains stands Drachcnfels. " The castled crags of Drachenfels Frown oer the broad and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between tin- l).-inks wbicli ln-ar the vine." Below is the cavern, where Siegfried slew the dragon 158 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. and bathed in its 1)lood, and winCvS produced here are called Dragon's blood. Travelers on the Rhine are treated to a little l)ook, called " Legends of the Rhine," which read very prettily, but are not always authentic. One tells of Rolandseck, where Roland, one of Charlemagne's Paladins, built for himself a castle to overlook a convent, where he might every day behold among the nuns his sweetheart, who had taken the veil on hearing of his death, and his and her despair accordingly. Accepted traditions say that Roland died in battle in Spain, and that Charlemagne had his remains brought honie and tenderly interred. Coblentz is a finely fortified place, and has a bridge of boats. The junction of the Moselle and Rhine recalls not only song, but the reputation of fine wines. Two of France's most noted Generals, and most beloved, Marceau and Hoche, are remem- bered here. " Their mourners were two hosts, their friends and foes." Here, also, history relates that Caesar crossed in 53 B.C. At Mayence, Germany, was lately commemorated the five hundredth anniversary of the birth of the pious monk, Guttenberg, the father of printiui;. The first use he made of his movable types was to print a co]>y of the Bible, thus refuting the falsehood that the Catholic Church was hostile to the spread of the Scripture. She preserved the Bible for fifteen hun- The Mouse Tower on the Rhine. The Rhine — Bingen — Lucerne — Intcrlaken. 159 dred years, until Henry VIII. and his associates began their so-called " Reformation." We passed the famous Lorelei Rocks, but the sirens have probably abandoned their luring of poor sailors by their songs, in the presence of steamboats and the penetration of their haunts by a railroad tunnel. An odd-looking building in mid stream had several marvelous stories told of it. It was probably a toll-house, and also a prison, as there are said to be dungeons beneath. At beautiful Rheinstein, on a high cliff, stands the castle famous for many years in history. It was re- stored by Prince Frederick of Prussia about 1825. At his death his body was interred in the tiny chapel. We obtained admittance, and were shown around the many chambers, perfect treasure-houses of most in- teresting antiques. The view of the Rhine and sur- rounding country ffom the battlements was lovely, and as we contemplated the scene, we dreamed over many of the romances connected with the classic " Vater Rhine." Below us, near the water's edge, stands a chapel, dedicated to St. Clement, built many years ago, tradition tells us, for the repose of the souls of the robber barons executed by order of Rudolph of Hapsburg. The Mouse Tower, made so nnich of by Southey, is a sort of signal station for boats and pilots. Imoui the Lorelei to Bingen the rocks are so treacherous as to recpiire special pilots. Opposite i6o Memories of a Red- Letter Sttnimer. Bingen, high up on tlie Neiderwakl, is the great national monument, composed of guns captured from the French. Germania stands with crown and lau- reled sword, proud and possessing. We heard at our hotel some students singing " The Watch on the Rhine," which seemed here so approjM'iate: '■ A roar lilcc tlnindcr strikes the car, Like clang of arms or breakers near, On for the Rhine, the German Rhine^ Who shield tlu'c, my beloved Rhine. ' Dear Fatherland, thou needst not fear — Thy Rhineland waich stands firmly here." Bingen is a pretty German town. From here we drove in several directions, one up a long, winding road, through heautiful forests, to St. Roche's chapel, on the sunnuit of a high hill. Mrs. Norton's beautiful lines are recalled here: " A soldier of the legion lay dying in Algiers; Inhere was lack ot woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears. Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine, For I was born at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine." While in London we had met an American gentle- man, who was an experienced traveler, and he advised us to always buy Cook's tickets. This did not neces- sitate joining their excursions, for we preferred to " personally conduct " ourselves, thus being confined Pi 77k' Rhine — niiii^cii — Lucerne — I nterlakcn. i6i to no particular time or j)lace. Purchasiiii^ these tickets at their agenc}', and mentioning- the places we wished to visit, our itinerary was completely planned ; we had only to enter the cars, hand our tickets to the guard, stop off where and when we pleased, and re- sume our journey the same, thus avoiding the con- fusion and trouble of railway offices and strange lan- guages. Several times we left our trunks, traveling only with hand baggage, which the porters at the sta- tions speedily relieved us of. We had only to men- tion our destination, our class or hotel, and follow our leader. The comparati\'ely short distances between different frontiers made this ])lan less troublesome, avoiding the dragging of hea\'y baggage from the vans to be inspected at the custom houses. Euro- ]3ean travelers have many discomforts to endure at the best, and we often longed for our Pullmans, with the buffet, ice water, and ventilation. At every hotel we found an English-s])caking clerk, and as each of us had some kncnvledge of other languages, our only trouble was shopping in Germany, as we had not mastered the intricacies of that one. Leaving Bingen and continuing to Lucerne, the scenery continues to grow more grand. Here lies the beautiful lake, surrounded by mountains, one thousand four hundred and thirty-three feet above sea level. Sweet io the ear was the sound of the 1 62 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Angelus bell, pealing from the tower of the old Church of St. Leodgear, built in honor of the Saint, who was put to death by order of Theodoric's rep- resentative. This building has two tall, tapering towers, dating from 1506; the organ from 1651. Around the church lies the cemetery, surrounded by cloisters, each tomb with holy water stoup and brush, asking prayers for the souls. This part of Switzer- land remained true to the Faith during the stormy period of the so-called Reformation. A remarkable monument is here, to the fidelity of the Swiss guards who fell in defending the French Palace in 1 792 — a lion carved on the .side of a gfeat rock, wounded to death, but still protecting the standard; the inscrip- tion, "Helvetiorum fidei ac virtute" — "To the fidelity and courage of the Swiss." Near by. Mass is often offered for their souls. An altar cloth in the chapel is a gift of one of the children of Marie Antoinette, whom they defended. A very ancient covered bridge across the river Reuss contains many old paintings. This is the Tell country, Switzerland's cradle of Hberty, and abounds in Tell memorials. Tell's Chapel is on the spot where he sprang on shore from Gessler's boat, when the tyrant had had his fetters removed to aid in steering in a storm, and here Mass is offered once a year, and the patriotic Swiss come in pilgrimage. At Altdorf, The Rhine — Biii^^cii — l.iiccnic — Intcrlakcn. 163 where he shot the apple from his son's head, a statue represents them in an affectionate pose — a crossl)o\v o\er the father's shoulders, the hoy's face bearing a look as if " assured that heaven its justice will pro- claim, and to his father give unerring aim." Near l)y is Rutli, where tradition says the three founders of Swiss liberty met and bound themselves by oath. Referring to the thought thaf Tell may be a myth, the English scholar Buckle says he " relies more on the strength of local traditions and native bards than anything else." Near l)y is the scene of the patriotic self-martyrdom of Arnold \-on Winkelreid, who, com- mitting his wife and children to his people, cried, "I will open a path to lil)ert}-." and rushing forward on the lances of the Austrians, led his OAvn men to ter- ribly bought \'ictory. In Lucerne the glacial gar- dens are of much interest to geologists. The national c|uay forms a lovel\' promenade, and from here the views of the lake and mountain are su])erb. Of the Alpine sunrise, our own ]:)oetess. Helen Hunt Jack- son, writes: '■ In Alpine valleys, they who watch for morn Look never to the east; but fix their eyes On loftier mountain peaks of snow which rise To west or south. Before the happy morn Has sent one ray of kindlinR red to warn The .sleeping clouds along the eastern skies, That it is near, flusliins^ in glad surprise 164 Memories of a Rcd-Lcttcr Summer. These ro)'aI hills, for royal watclinien born, Discover that God's great, new day begins. And, shedding from their sacred brows a light Prophetic, wake the valley from its night." The Alpine sunsets are incomparable! And the after glow! " Jnst for one hour to see the afterglow Tinge rosy red the pathless fields of snow, To see it spread across the mountain's breast, From clif^ to clili, till, on some lofty crest It kindles cnQ lone light of crimson ray And softly dies — this last, last fire of day." In the Wein Markt is a foundation with monu- ment containing the statue of St. Maurice in knightly dress, and below him several Knights, in coats of mail, occupy niches. St. Maurice was commander of the Theban Legion, raised in Thebais, or Upper Egypt. They were yoimg Christians, and officered by Christians, were marching with the rest of the Roman army against Gaul, imder Maximian, who ordered the army to offer sacrifice for succor. The Legion refused, and retired to the spot occupied by the monastery of St. Maurice, where their numbers were decimated day l\v day till all were gone. Some of the companies of this Legion were sent to the Rhine country, under Gereon, where they also suf- fered martyrdom for Christianity. At Cologne, in The Rhine — Biiigcii — Liiccnu- — JntcyJakcn. i 65 the Church of St. Gereon, we had venerated them. One of the old 1)ridg'cs across the Reuss here, with l)ictiires from the Dance of Death, recalls these lines: ■ All who go to and Iro nui.-t look on it, Mindful of what they shall lie, while beneath Anions' the v/otiden piles the rixiT rushes impetuously." We rode up the mountain side one morning to hear Mass in the old C\'ii)tichin Chiu'ch, ])assing the stations of the Cross near the con\'ent. ( )ut on the' lake a sail takes us ])ast a large rock, hearing" an in- scri|)tion in honor of Schiller, whose verse emjjalmed the memories of tlu- Swiss heroes. Over Lucerne one great mountain ]:)cak is ca.lled Pilatus. 'Phe stor}' goes that PoiUius I'ilate, being banished from Judea. w.andering oxer the world conscience stricken, threw himself into the lake on its sunnnit. Being so high. a sort of ad\ance peak, the storms gather about it, and the snpei'stilious belief obtained that the rinn- blings were due to the tm(|uict bod\- in the lake. The ascent was fonnci"l\- foi'.biddt'u b\- law, btU it is now nmcli \isitc(l b\- toui'ists. 1 know, when in doubt aboiu the weathei", the nati\e casts his eye to this mountain. .\ chtud like a hood over it indicates fair weather; a streak below like a sword, a storm. " If I'il.itus wear his iiood, The weatlier will I); suri'ly Rood; But if I'ilatus don his sword, Thc-n rain will surely be the award." 1 66 Memories of a Red-Letter Suuuiier. And so Pilatiis' sword prevented ns from ascending the Rigi during' the few days only that we could spare for Lucerne; but the sails around the lake were de- lightful, and noting the chalets away up the mountain sides, and hearing the so*igs of the natives, one could realize how dearly they love their mountains, and what "Heimweh" means to them. Leaving them to " pine and die, their sweet-breathed kine remember- 'ing, and green Alpine pastures decked with flowers." Lovely Lucerne! fitting introduction to Switzerland, wdiich is called the "Playground of Europe." Now we take the Brunig Pass road and climb up up, up, through wildest scener}% past rushing mountain tor- rents and frowning rocks, and note the green pas- tures, where one would think the cattle would scarcely maintain a footing, Avhile far below us the deep, dark lakes reflect the scenery. Here, as in Germany, the women guard the railway crossings. Descending the mountain, we reach Brienz, and take boat for Interlaken. The ride through here about sunset was enchanting, and our ears were suddenly saluted by the song, " She was bred in old Ken- tucky," suggested prol^ably by a glance at one of our valises, on which the name of our proud old State was stamped. So the waters and mountains of Switzerland echo back the names so dear to us. There is a pretty fable connected with Interlaken, The Rhine — I^iniuvt — Lucerne — I nlerhiken. 167 to the effect that when Dix'ine an^er coinniandcd Eden to he remoxech the angels hearing it were so dehg-hted with the scenery around the lungh-au and the lakes that the}' dro])[:)ed it there, and so it is Inter- laken, or " hetween tlie lakes." This is the heart of the Bernese 01)erland. An ancient monastery is here, dating from 1 130, hut heing suppressed, is now' a hos- pital. Trips to the Grindelwald glacier and other points are frequent. We went up Scheinige Platte, and sat on the crags watching the ])la}- of the clouds on the Jungfrau opposite; enjoyed our tea on these sublime heights, and watched the sure-footed goats scampering away at our approach. I'hese mountain railways are certainh' daring" feats of engineering, and our trip down disclosed the fact to us more ])ercept- il)l\- than the ascent. Reaching" our h(^tcl, I sat out in the ground watching the setting of the sun on the Jungfrau. The busy crowds passed to and fro, intent on pleasure; earthl}' sounds seemed to jar on my ears. I tell an awe, as if I were witnessing some mystery of nature, for while in tin- \allc\- around me the lamps were being lighted, a\\a\' u]) in tlie sk\- above me the sun changed, and sliified the lights and shadows from jjoint to poiin, initil the \;\^{ gleam on the virgin snow was like a ti]) of eli'clric light. This sight alone was worth ;i li'i]! across the oC(,'aii to see; and I was told that the \-iew was e\«'ei)lioual, the absence iif clnuds 1 68 Memories of a Red- Letter Slimmer. being infrequent. I was reminded of what might have been the scene when Moses was called up to the mountain. So I turned again, when all was over, to the commonplaces of life, and the welcome dinner to which I had been impatiently summoned several times by others less enthusiastic on such subjects. From Interlaken we continued to Martigny, for from here we make the trip to the Great St. Bernard. The valley has not a good deputation for health, owing to the overflow of the Rhone. Here is much of that affliction called ''goitre." Dickens speaks of this in his travels in Switzerland, where the women, while at work, rested their goitre on a rock. As we approached Martigny, we saw Mt. Blanc towering ahead of us in its mantle of perpetual snow. Over our hotel was an old Roman tower in good preserva- tion. Our second day here found us making an early start by carriage to St. Bernard. The first part of the route was not particularly interesting, along the banks of the Dranse and throug-h a few poor villages. This is the way by which Napoleon, in 1800, crossed the Alps; and at St. Pierre, where the little inn still bears the sign, "Au Dejeuner de Napoleon," we stopped to rest, and dropped into a little church dating from the eleventh century. After ten hours of riding over perfect roads, most of the time under a blistering sun, we reached the famed Hospice just before dark. pq The Rhine — Bliiiicii — I .iiccnw — InicrUikcii. i 69 But hot as the sun had l)ecn. its decline In-onght a chill in the air, which, C(jmhined Avith the great alti- tude, found us at the door cold, and g'lad indeed of the kindly welcome. We noted a number of people on our way, making short cuts up the mountain, ar- ri\ing almost as soon as ourselves, in our carriage, compelled to slowly follow the stee]:), winding road- way. Being Saturday, we found that the pious peas- antr}- come from all directions to spend the night in quarters prepared for them, to hear Mass on Sunday, and return afterwards to their homes. We had a good room, clean, comfortable beds, and were served with i)lain, but well cooked supper and breakfast. The dogs were lil)erated for our inspection, as they had been confined to their kennels for the night. Such great, l)eautiful creatures, running about, leap- ing with delight! Such noble heads and intelligent eyes! We ])lead guilty to coveting one for a com- panion to a certain little curly-headed boy far away in Kentucky. A temple of Jui)iter once stood here, and a plain is nauKMl for the god. Ivemains of Roman pavement and ste])S are seen, and in the . museum, where we were kindly conducted, are many intensely interesting relics of Redman origin found in the neighborhood. Here, eighty-two hundred feet al)o\e the sea, where no bird is seen in the aii', no tlsh in the lake, winch is frozen most of the \ear, these lyo Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. devoted men give their lives to the service of God in charity. The hardships are so great that scarcely ever more than fifteen years can be spent .here, and even then they must descend occasionally to the valley at Martigny to recuperate. Food, wood and hay must be carried for miles. Travelers generally bring the provender for their teams with them. This Pass has always been of importance. Now, in early spring and fall months, it is much frequented by those passing from one country to another for employment, while during the summer tourists are attracted by both natural and historic interest. The present Hos- pice dates back to 962, founded by St. Bernard, while evidence exists that prior to 851 a refuge existed here. Many religious and political revolutions have left their impress here, but still it stands a monument to Catholic charity. We were taken round the place by a priest, an elegant, cultivated French gentleman, who seemed pleased to show the curios and the library. A fine piano, presented by the Prince of Wales, stands in the visitors' room, while the com- . poser, Blumenthal, gave a harmonium. Apprecia- tive visitors have, in gratitude for hospitalities, sent many gifts, which brighten up the place, otherwise solitary, gloomy and desolate. We heard Mass in the chapel on Sunday morning, when the monks chanted the services, and we had opportunity to ob- The Rliinc — Bin gen — Lucerne — hiterlakcn. 171 serve them. They were ah young looking, none apparently over forty; 1)Ul the altitude is very trying, and they do not live to old age. Quite a number of the visitors received Holy Communion. Napoleon erected here a monument over the body of his friend. General Dessaix. Napoleon said to him: " I will gi\-e }'ou the Alps for a monument." A tablet is on the wall in honor of Napoleon, which, translated, reads : " To the always august Emperor of the French, Napoleon First, Restorer of the Valesian Republic, Twice the conqueror of Egypt; Ever to be remembered by the grateful Republic of Valesia. December, 1804." The bodies of those found dead on the mountain were formerly preserved in the morgue, but I luider- stood the_\- had l)een buried. vSoon after l)reakfast we prepared for oui^ dejjarture. There are no stated charges for visitors, htit un^'i-ateful indeed would be one who would neglect to leave some pecimiary ac- knowledgment. A clergyman on a mission through this part of the coimtry thus writes of the Great St. Bernard: " There are nine or ten ecclesiastics belonging to the Regu- lar Canons of the St. Augustine Order, who periodically sacrifice their lives to give assistance tn iluir fillowmcn. I'mni year to 172 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. year they hunt on the barren tcips of the Alps, amidst perpetual snows, frightful storms, and heart-rendering desolation, yet they are cheerful and happy. They have no pretensions; they make no boasts; they write no articles to publish in newspapers to show exaggerated and spurious good works. They love noth- ing else but God and their fellow creatures — making no distinc- tion on account of creed, color, or nation. They expect reward from no one but God. Every stick of wood they burn, and every mouthful of bread they eat, must be brought up from a distance of twelve miles down below in the valley. They plant nothing, because there is no heat to rijien anything; then, where could they plant? There is nothing but naked rocks, covered most of the time by snow. The famous dogs are a cross between the Newfoundland and the Pyrencan, and only live six or seven years. In the midst of storms, when Alpine blasts tear up rocks and shake the mountains; when avalanches rush down with ter- rible roaring, carrying away whatever may be in their way, the monks set out with the dogs to rescue any perishing traveler who may have lost his way. The dogs rush madly down the mountain side, plunging into snowdrifts, with a bottle in a basket seciu^ed about the neclc, furnishing immediate aid to the perishing." We had not realized how steep was the ascent until we started to return. A funny little horse was attached to our carriage, while the great mule, that had been its companion on the ascent, was tied to the back with another one, to l)e left at the village, and we were very glad to have two of their pro- verbial obstinacy to act as drag to our conveyance. Although midsummer, snow patches were all around Swiss Cottac.kks. The f\liiiic — niit^'uvi — Lticcrnc — Interlaken. 1 73 us; our ride down I lie slcci) road was exliilarating, l)iit we shuddered at llie ihou^iit of a winter's day here. 'iMie views weie i;]"aiid, and my hits of Alpine flora, collected along th(.' way, are carefully placed in my herharimii. V>\ noon we were quite ready to attack the somewhat donhtful repast set heforc us at the llalfway Imi, hut which our host e\'idcntly thought (|uite sumptuous. We had a good oppor- tum'ty to ohserve liie hahits of the villagers in the mean little places on our journey. Sometimes the road hetw'een the houses would only admit one ve- hicle at a time. Cattle and people herd closely to- gether, and we note(I the women sitting out on henches taking their v^Mnila\' rest in their i~^un(kay hest, while the men, congregated in clusters, seemed discussing the pigs and cattle. I noticed very few rca(Hng, although in one- \illage we saw al)out a church some little girls in white, as if something spe- cial were on hand, f )\\v appetites for Swiss cheese were not whetted hy the sights we saw and the tales we were tnjil. alllioni^h llie houses and the people were clean. We could hut pity the plodding, aim- less sort of life, shut in so much of the year hy nat- ural harriers, hut these were certainly cases where ignoiance is hliss. .\fl(.'i- all, great Icarm'ng is not essenti.al to the soul's saKation; to know, love and fear (hkI is the great sum of hnman life. I'erhaps if 174 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. some of these simple souls were in other surround- ings, they might lose that innocence they now pos- sess, and so forfeit heaven; and "What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul!" With these reflections to temper our sym- pathy, we continued our journey through the ever beadtiful Swiss scenery, until at last we reached the foot of the mountains, clattered through the Mar- tigny streets, and drew up to our hotel, tired, hungry, and ready for our comfortal^le beds. The lovely valley of Chamounix we must omit this time, as one of our party was unable for the long drive, after the fatiguing journey to St. Bernard; but we had en route a very good view of the " King of the Alps," Mt. Blanc. CHAPTER XI. GENEVA— CASTLE OF CU ILLON — RETURN TO GER- MANY — NEUENAH R — .STRASBURG — BLACK FORES'I'— I'RI'IIUIRC;- MUNICH. W'e left next (la\' for Gene\'a. reachiiii^' there in the ev'eniiiL;". Mere we noticed the stranj^'c t'onlluence nf the Rhone, 1)hie as the lake, w ith the tnrhid Ar\'e, and from the quay we could plainly see Mt. Blanc. The washerwomen work out on the river bank, rubbing and pounding their clothes. Bryant beautifully apos- trophizes the river Arve: " Born where the tluiiidiT and the l)last And morning's earliest iitjjhls are born. From steep to steep thy torrent falls. Till, mingling with the mighty Rhone, It rests beneath Geneva's walls." In the Clun-ch of St. T~>ierrc, of 1024, is the canopy under which Ca]\'in preached during Ids residence here in the troubled times of religious disturbances. In the ITall of .Antiquities are many Roman relics found in tlie .\rve. Geneva has occupied a very im- portant place in the history of Europe; sent forth many learned men, while it has alTorded asylum to others. Rousseau has here a fnie statue on an island named for him. The very atmosphere seems to in- 176 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. spire poetic thoughts. Shelley, Byron, Gibbon, Vol- taire, Lamertine, Dumas, Hugo and Madame de Stael have spent time here, and each has paid a tribute to the lovely lake and surroundings. Neckar was born here, and Sismondi, the histo- rian; Sir Humphrey Davy is buried here, as also Calvin, who burned here his fellow reformer, Servetus, for differing from him on some point. And here John Knox lived a while. Geneva has been called " The Rome of Protestantism." One never tires of the lake view, and the little boats skimming over it with their peculiar sails, reminding one of a flight of swallows. Near the city, on the borders of the lake, is the famed Castle of Chillon, built in 1238, and noted as a political prison. Bonnivard, the " Pris- oner of Chillon," is the pervading spirit. His cell is much visited by tourists, and all seem familiar with Byron's lines: " Lake Leman lies by Chilloti's walls, Chillon, thy prison is a holy place." ■' My hair is white, but not with years; Nor grew it white in a single night As men have grown with sudden fear." The national monument here is fine, " Helvetia and Geneva," in memory of Geneva joining the con- federation in 1 8 14. There is a monument to Charles, CaSTI.E 01' Cllll,r,()\, vSwiTZKKI.AM), Genera — Sfrasbui\s: — Black Forest — Munich. 177 Duke of Brunswick, who left twenty million francs to the city. Jewelry and watches are synonymous with Geneva. The water-works system is the great center of interest, containing twenty turbines of forty- two hundred horse-power, and the drinking water is said to 1)6 the finest in Europe. Visitors are especially reniinded not to miss a trip up the Mt. Saleve for the grand views. We returned to the Rhine, having made our Switzerland trip while the weather w-as suitable. At Remagen, in Germanv, we turned aside for the waters of Neuenahr, a pretty and thri\'ing place at the foot of a hill, crowned by the ruins of a castle dating back to 1226. and having the usual legend attached. Up to the windows of our hotel came every morn- ing the solemn strains of a hymn played by a band, which thus opened, in ])raise to God, their daily con- certs. Pleasant walks arc in cx'cry direction; a beau- tiful ])ark surrounding the s])rings is kept in ex([uisite order, tilled with promenaders of all nationalities en- joying the music and surroundings. Walking down one morning for my usual glass of water, I met the funeral procession of a little child, the cofifin covered with flowers, six little girls in white carrying it. and as they passed where I stood, they left their small burden down on the clean ])ave to rest, while every one around stood uncox'cred. It was carried to the lyS Memories of a Rcd-Lcttcr Summer. little old cluirch on the hill, where I often attended Mass. This structure is evidently very old and out- grown by the congregation, and the grave stones, some almost two hundred years old, crowd up to the walls on every side. Here, as in many German churches we visited, the singing was congregational, and 1 was nuich ediiied by the appearance of one boy of about twelve years, w'hose place was near the seat I always chose. His head was thrown back, his eyes were fixed on the blue beyond the open window, as if he really saw that of which he sang, and his voice, strong, sweet and inire, tloated out unconsciously. Sometimes birds Hew in and out through the open windows during services. I noted curious customs here during Requiem Masses, old, but significant, which I supposed were from the " Mass penny." Driving along the banks of the Ahr, as in all Ger- man)- the vineyards c>n the steep hillsides give evi- dence of nuich painstaking lal^or. They are terraced b\' walls of stone, these filled in by earth, and each \inc seems to know its place and what it is expected to )ieKl. The tlog teams were curious to us. and the good creatures toiled along in their traces, helping their masters or mistresses most lo}all\-. The Ger- -man customs are laudalile in man)- respects; the housekeejiing is famous. The government controls much that in this countrN- is left to chaneine hands. Geneva— -Strasbur'f —lUach Forest — Munich. 179 The pure footl laws arc strict and enforced. The uni- ft)rnied ofiicials give all a military air, and we felt somehow protected. The marks of saher cuts on many cheeks, of which the wearers seem proud, were prohably reminders of dueling or student life. At the old city of Strashurg we stopped to see the wonderful clock. 'iMu)u,L;h not directly on the Rhine, the city has, from Koman days, l:)een of strategetical importance. 'JMie church, dedicated to the Holy Vir- gin, and containing the clock, was founded in the year 600, being of course changed and added to with time. As with all cathedrals, the side chapels are beautiful, and all possible has been done to make it worthy of the Sacred Presence. The original clock dates back to 1352. In 1574 it was repaired, two hundred years afterwards again repaired, and also one hundred years later. It stands inside the clun-ch, and a gratuity is given the custodian for exhibiting it. At noon is the best time for observation, for then the twelve apostles come out and move about the figure of our Savior, a cock Haps its wings and crows, a skel- eton strikes the hours, while the (juarters are repre- sented by the figures of childhood, youth, manhood and (lid age. The <|uarters are struck by an angel with a bell in his hand, while a figure changes the hour glass every hour. Beautiful old iMcibuig. on the edge of the Black i8o Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Forest, claimed our attention for some time. Here an immense package of precious mail reached us from London, where it had accumulated. This old town, after many vicissitudes, has returned to its original owner, the House of Baden. While we were here, the birthday of the present Duke was being cele- brated with great rejoicings, and the houses were gaily decorated with flags. During our attendance on the special religious services, we had an oppor- tunity of seeing many distinguished people, judging from their decorations and military attendants. The music was grand, the organ accompanied by brass and string band, and at the Elevation the bells tolled and a cannon was fired. At the Te Deum the whole congregation joined, and the volume of sound almost shook the staunch old building. As we .left the church, we paused to note the still waiting crowd outside, when presently all knelt, and through the lane formed by the reverent people the venerable Archbishop passed to his residence, dispensing bene- dictions. The Muenster, from the twelfth century, is of red sandstone. The porticoes are very fine, containing rare works of scuplture, the tower over three hundred and eighty feet high, the pulpit over three hundred years old, cut from a single block of stone. The name of the Zahringer family, who were lords of the Geneva — Sfrasbiirg — Black forest — Munich. i8i manor for several hundred years, is evident every- where. A statue on the public square is to the Franciscan monk, Berthold Schwarz, who invented gunpowder in 1330. Concerts in the parks by military bands, and at night at the great hall, are very fine; and many rides through the Black Forest we enjoyed, especially one in the evening, when the great full moon rose over its gloomy grandeur, suddenly flooding the roads with light. Freiburg contains a University and Conservatory of Music. One day, while strolling about, we noticed a lady with striking appearance pass us, who abruptly turned and approached us, saying: " I must speak to you; I know you are American ladies." She stood for some time talking, and told us that her home was in Boston, but she was studying in Freiburg, and, pleasant as the summers were here, she more enjoyed the winters, with skating and other winter sports, and the society of cultivated people, who attended the various places of study. The Rath-House, with its curious outside fres- coes, the old Church of St. Martin's and part of the cloisters, the university, the Martinsthor part of the old fortifications, with its picture on the outer wall of St. Martin sharing his cloak with a beggar, the narrow streets, with streams of fine water along the 1 82 Memories of a Red- Letter Summer. sides, the pretty parks and promenades — past these and many curious objects we drive on our way out to Lorettosburgh, with its chapels erected in honor of the victories gained in 1644 by General Mercy over Turenne. A cannon ball is shown in the wall as having just missed Louis XIV. at the siege of Frei- bourg. The ruins of the Castle of the old family of Zahringer are full of interest. But, oh, the Black Forest! This lovely country would seem to promise health and happiness to those especially who are lovers of nature, and make one sigh for a " lodge in the vast wilderness." My memory was stored with legends of the Black Forest, and here they were all revived. Through its grand, dark, impressive silences we drove, and tramped, and gathered the fragrant branches, and now, as I write, a pillow made of them is near me, exhaling its rich piny perfume. " In the German forest there kirks no ill, But fragrant balsam, all pain to kill; C fresh, green branches, O golden light, O airy freedom on yonder height." Away up through the dim aisles of the enchanted wood we traveled to the shrine of St. Ottilia; but near here, as in so many other charming places, was the ever-intruding restaurant, which, while being some- times a comforting presence, is often repellant to the Geneva — Strasburg — Black Forest — Munich. 1 83 eye, as recalling one too much to creature comforts. Butler's Liz>cs of the Sai)its tells us St. Ottilia was born in Strasburg of illustrious family, and baptized by St. Erhard. Her father erected a great nunnery in Alsace, in which Ottilia conducted one hundred and thirty nuns in the paths of Christian perfection, and died in '/y2. At the Stadt Garten we named the musicians of the company for those of the " First Violin," as we had wondered, in the Cologne Cathedral, which place had been occupied l)y Kugcn Courvoiser and his companion. /\ society, the Schwarzwald Verein, wliic-h h.is here over a thousand members, might be reconunended to our own people, as it is for the pres- ervation and making of new walks and paths, and opening fine points of view. Just here I will men- lion, in (icrnian)' the jjrolcction of the forest is by law, and when one tree is cut down, another is planled. X'owhere has the ini])ortance of forestry received more attention th.an in (.ermany. The ne- cessities for firewood and railroad building required repair and rec-onsirnetion of the snppK . Science and system were resorted to; soils were studied as to their adaptation lo \\h;il trees; schools of foresti'v were establis]ieul, yes, wc may. l''\cr tlic plaint cdinos from the _i;ra\'C. " lla\c pity on mo; lia\c I'itx' on me, at least you, my friends, for the hand of the l.ord is heavy upon me!" And so we kneel beside their lowly bed and piay, " Dear Kord, in thine inluiite mercy, deliver the soul of (his, m\' ln\ed one, and accept this offer- ing to th\- justice"; and then the beautiful petition piescribed b\- the Church, the "He Proftmdis." " Wc kiu'cl in lliini;_;:lu wliorr tho witlu-ii'il grasses l\ustliiiL; away ci'it a diicc l>riglit head, SuinuuT dies ami liie dyiiij? Itoweis Sitili: IxcnieinluT >(iur Irved and deail. Buried friends, ean we e'er forget you, Von wlio felt for our weal or woe? Ciotl he with yon, our silent sleepers, Lying muKr the turf so low. Useless, \ain is our deep hewailiug — Vain aiH" ninrninr .and soh and fear; What, oh, what ean our grief avail yon. Lifeless dust that was onee so dear! Hark! a sigh Ironi eaeh lowlv bed' Oh! pray, pray for the dead!" v^ureh this is one o{ the most comforting teachin£j;s of the C'liiu'ch, we may help our dear tleparted by prayers! • Tennyson, in the " Passing of King Arthin%" makes him sav: " If thou shouhlst never sec my faee again. Pray for my soul! M'ue things are wrought by prayer Ohcrdiiniwri^dii and llic rassioii Play. i .S9 Tliaii tliis world drciiiis of. WluTrfoir. let tliy vuice Risr Iil<(' ;i I'l luntaui for iiic, iii^lil and day- l'"«ir w dial aia uicn lictin- lliaii ^ln-cp or t,^K- r.iund cartli is rvcry way Hound liy I'ojd iliains ahoiil ihc l\cl of Cod!" C.radiialK this (loc-trinc apin'.'irs to l)0 ap])ealing to those scpaialrd trom us in faith. An cmincMit l*rot- I'staiit waiter sa\s: " I'l^aNXT lor the dead is one ol the most anident and authenticated ])raetiees of relio-ion. It (inieki'us the hehtd in the iuinioi'laht \' ol the souh (h"a\\s the \-eil of darkness frou) the o-j-ax-e, and joins this woiid witli the next. I lad it been retaineei"ienee(I so nmeli skep- licism and unhehef amon_o- us." yXnd _\'et another writes: I SCO (lie fac'S of niv dtad, al 11 loinlay, I'roin llir winic (Imids duwn l(wdlc iwilij-dil, 'I'h'.'ir moans coU'c Id nu- lliiDmdi 'lie snlihini; nij^lil rain, Plcadiiip ' I'ray Cod foi- us who stay in prison,' Cryinp, 'Arise, ihon dicaiiifst and wc suffer,' S'pliinp, '() Ciod, wc drink- tlu' awful darkness i'roni eve to e\H'. and all the livnii^ know not.'" 'Idu' composer of the Passion music. " I^c(ller," is here rememheri'(I, .-uid theri' is also a monument to I go Mcifuvics of a Red-Letter Summer. the Reverend 1^'ather 1 )aisenl)erger, reviser and cor- rcct(jr of the Passion Play, and e])itaph, " His works (!o lollovv him." The bust is finely done, the work of one of the Lang family, so prominent in the annals of Oberammerg-an. now of Munich, and who pre- sented this work to his native village. A hermitage, Iniilt of log's and bark, near the village, is the vener- ated spot to which the holv priest used to come for hours of solitary devotion. Also in the neighbor- hood is a crucifixion group, presented by the sad King Ludwig Second. Mass is always read here on the anniversary of his death. The inscription reads: From King Ludwig Second, in memory of the Pas- sion Play, to the art loving' Oberammergauers, true to the customs of their forefathers." Then the gospel words, "Woman, behold thy Son; Son, behold thy mother." The ])eople here date their ancestry to the Romans. Christianity was introduced at the close of the ninth centtu'y. Ethiko the Guelph came, and in 1330 a Benedictine Monastery \\'as foimcled. "Convents ha\'e," says a fine writer, "been, through the centuries, the steadfast bearers of intellectual progress. When intercourse was difficult with the outer world, their schools and farmsteads were closely associated with the development of the district." Wood carving seems to have taken root here, and to ObcraiiiiiicrgUH and ihc Passion Play. 191 the present day it is a great industry in Oberammer- gau, and the work of the people is shipped far and near. An example is cited of the culture acquired l)y attendance at the monastery, of Ulrich Petz, a simple miller, in 1550, who, when wearied from labor, took down from his shelf the classics, whose language he had accjuired in spare hours. This humble Cath- olic wrote on the corner of his Bible: " Believe that the highest good and wisdom is in Christianity. All else is folly, mere dust!'-' Such is an example of the blood of the village people, who still remain faithful to their traditions and teachings. In 1551, when Philip, King of Spain, came through Ettal. near b\', he and his court walked bareheaded, candles in hand, in the Corpus Christi procession. The village suf- fered from depredations by the Swedes, and finally the dreaded jjlague broke out in 1633. ^'^^ far back as the fourth century sacred i)lays had been held on certain occasions as offerings to God. So these ])ious people determined to vow this representation as penitential offering in supplication for the cessa- tion of the |)laguc. Tt ceased, and has never re- turned. In 1770 a roval edict prohil)ilcd the farther production of the play. The pcoj)lc protested, ap- pealed and j)etitioned, but tlic c(lict stood, i-'inallv the elector agreed to permit it, and in 1780 it was resumed. P>ut opposition again brctkc out, and again 192 Memories of a Red-Letter Sttmmer. appeals were made. Finally lyudwig First ascended the throne, and the play found an earnest advocate in Goethe, whom Fiidwig Second highly respected. Never was king more beloved, so closely did he live to his people; and when, in 1886, his death followed after that of the beloved Pastor Daisenberger, in 1883, the community was indeed desolate. We vis- ited the Palace at Linderhof, where the King resided, and wondered not that in this paradise he chose re- treat, and was so loved by his loyal Bavarians. The historian of the Passion Play speaks of its heroes, and asks the person who comes here to visit it and goes away to criticise, to just sit down and try to compose the music and text; .speaks of the heart's blood of poverty, of patient merit, the sacrifice of art natures, and beautifully says: "To these poor art souls, drooping under the crushing influence of the com- monplace, the Savior had also said, ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavily burdened'; and they came, and brought him the first fruits of their skill, and he received them and took them into his service. Therefore the right to be an Ammergauer and take part in the sacred work must be bought with blood and tears; and woe to him who with careless jest or the unclean spirit of speculation would par- ticipate in the sacred play! The structure, which the spirit of their ancestors has so firmlv founded, must iri ..• o 5 « OS rt Obcraiiniicrs^aii and the Passion Play. 193 fall and crush him." She especially mentions in this connection Father Weiss, the scholar Rochess Ded- ler, and the venerable Father Daisenberger. who renounced ecclesiastical honors to remain in his be- loved home and with his people, to perfect the Pas- sion Play. So, when the year arrives for its produc- tion, the members of the committee attend Mass daily to invoke tlivinc blessing and direction on their work. The parties are chosen for the holiness and purity of their lives; and each villager's ambition is to be worthy to be a representative of some part. We noted, as we entered the village, so many men with long hair, and learned that they were among those who took characters. Even little children be- come imbued with the desire to take part. Some of the little tots bore their pose in the tableaux with almost incredible excellence A few names are insep- arably connected with the play; among them Deimer, whose kinswoman has given to the world such a per- fect history of the village. peoi)]e and ])lay. The evening ])revious to the ])erformance wc walked down to the village through the crowded streets, and visited the home of Peter Rendl, an ideal John, the beloved disciple. ITis face was almost ef- feminate, smooth and gentle, and his hair, parted in the middle, hung over his shoulders. ITe was en- gaged in his little shop among his carvings, some of (9) 194 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. which we purchased ns souvenirs, and then passed to the home of ihe C'hi-islus, Anton l^ang. His face was much as we see so often in sacred ]:»ictures, his eyes 1)lne and imiocent, and a soft l)ro\vn l)eai"d and Ions;' wavy liair made him also an ideal. He and John spoke I^i.^'lish well. We wished to visit the homes of the princi])al actors, hut the crowds were too t^'reat. I'uri^'ouK-isler I ,an_<;- trains the actors. KudwiL;' I,ani;' arranges the tahleaux, Ivlward Lang trains the younj^- nnisicians, jacoh Kutz, who is a hiacksmith, has a most wonderful voice, and led the choir. Andreas Lang, a rahhi of this year, was the Thomas ten years ago. ruid some time since carved the st.atue of hjnperor lM-edeiick. Sehastian Ivang makes a grand C\'iiaphas. The name of I .ang is closely ide'ntiried with the x'illage. and some, who have gone awav and pros])ered. liave shown nmch charity to their less fortunate neighhors in sustaining wood car\'ing when the demand was small, paying ready cash. The family was muuerous. and nt)w' the old- est carver of crucilixes is " 'IVm'csc Lang, nee Lruig, Widow Lang, and remarried Lang, who is the mother of the 'rahhi,' .\ndreas Lang." She is the present head of the fine family, and her hrother is Burgo- nieister Lang. Johann Zwink is the jierfect Judas; and the Pilate of Bauer is one of the grandest figures of the play. We were told that the "Mary" of this 'I' y. "J W Obcramincrgmi and the Passion Play. 195 year postponed her marriagfe to take her part. Each seems so fully identified with his or her part that it seems impossible to discriminate. Even the little children are wonderful. Judas, whose part was one of contradictions, excelled any stage presence I have ever beheld. The struggles of his better nature with the vices of avarice and cupidity, were tragic indeed. His soliloquy, ending in despair and suicide, was thrilling. \\& sat, from 8 to 12 and from i to 5, on hard wooden benches, rapt, absorbed, tears stream- ing, and at the parting at Bethany, the meeting of ]\Iary and her beloved Son, staggering under the weight of the Cross, the Last Supper, and the scenes of the Crucifixion. I could scarcely repress my sobs; yet so cjuiet was the audience all seemed indeed on Calvary. When all was over and we had come to ourselves, we had time to realize it. Early in the morning we had been aroused by the signal gun. the echoes reverberating through the valley. Hastily dressing, we proceeded to church, crowded for sev- eral Masses, the participants in the play fortifying themselves by prayer for their sacred parts. Break- fast is quickly discussed, and we drive down to the theater through the hurrying crowds, which are well handled and seated. The spectators are now under roof, but the stage still stands in o|)cn air, making .'dl more real by the backgrotmd of the pinc-co\ercd 196 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. mountains. We seat ourselves among the expectant crowds, and soon we hear the orchestra begin, and from either side of the stage file in the chorus, led by a magnificent figure in snowy white. His dig- nified person and snowy hair and beard declare him the former Christus, Mayer. After a short prologue, the chorus falls back, and the curtain rises on the first tableau, the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Par- adise. They are clothed in skins, and the angel with flaming sword threatens- them, while Eve looks long- ingly behind her, as if she said indeed: "Must I leave thee, Paradise?" PROLOGUE. " Greetings to all who have come from far and near to wit- ness the sufferings and death of Christ. All here are united in love in memory of the One who has for us suffered the bitterest death, and our tenderest thoughts and love turn to Him. The hour for the fulfillment ol our holy vow has come. Join your prayers with us, we beseech you." Another tableau is the Adoration of the Cross: and now we hear the shouts in the distance, and on the stage proceed a multitude waving palm branches and shouting hosannas. Presently some begin to cast down their garments, and John appears, leading an ass, on which the Christus rides. As he reaches the door of the temple he dismounts and enters, and the scene is verv realistic, of the monev changers and Oberaiiimergau and the Passion Play. 197 venders of different wares; the indignation of the Christus as he beholds the desecration, and the words, "My house shall be called the house of prayer," etc., and overturns the tables, not noisily or rudely, but sadly, and then from the cages the liber- ated doves take flight beyond the boundaries. Each tableau typifies something in the life of Christ, as that of young Tobias leaving his family, and Isaac carry- ing the fagots on his shoulders to the mount, where his father, Abraham, was commanded to offer him in sacrifice, typifies our Lord carrying his cross to Cal- vary. The scenes of the parting at Bethany between Jesus and his blessed Mother and disciples, and the Last Supper and washing of feet were most touching. John assists the Christus in girding himself w^ith a towel, and so he goes from one to another, each re- ceiving him with deprecating look and act. and fol- lowing him with adoring" gaze. The breaking of bread and giving it to his disciples, with his own hands, in the institution of the Holy Eucharist, is so perfectly described by a writer, that I can not refrain from giving it in full as a lesson to those who can not accept this doctrine. ".\s the dying man distributes his property among his heirs, so He. too. His. But He has nothing to bestow but Himself. As the cloud dissolves itself in the millions of rain (Iroj)s and waters the parched ground, so He multiplies llimsclf a mil- 198 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. lion-fold, whereby, in the course of years. He gives comfort to millions of men by means of Holy Com- munion. His Body and Blood are His last will. He gives them to numberless persons, to numberless heirs, and yet He remains one and undivided under each particle of both species. For as an element remains one large unity, even if it dissolves itself into ever so many atoms, as water remains always water, whether it be in single drops or in the ocean; fire always fire, whether in sparks or conflagration; so Christ always remains Christ, in each drop in the cup, or in each particle of the species of bread. He is one, whole and entire, in His divinity and humanity. The Last Supper had been typified by the tableau of the manna in the wilderness and the bringing of the grapes from Canaan by the spies. And now Adam at work and the assassination of Amasa by Joab pre- pared us for the agony in the garden and the traitor- ous kiss of Judas. So Christ is apprehended, and we hear the denial of Peter, at which the cock crows. The mockery of the Jews, the dragging of the bound and patient Victim from Herod to the house of Pilate, who appears a grand and majestic figure, wishing to be right, warned by a message from his wife to have nothing to do with this just man; returning Him to Herod as not under his jurisdiction, returned again, so patient, so meek and humble, when Pilate, fearing Obcraiiuncrgau ami flic Passion Piay. 199 to offend Herod, yields to the demands of the popu- lace, breaks his staff, washes his hands, releases the horrid looking Barabbas, and deli\'ers the Christus to the mob. This is typified by the ta1:)leaii of the 1)lind and lionnd Samson, Isaac, and the setting up of the brazen serpent. Now from one side of tlie stage we see the rabble approaching, and presently the Christus, staggering and falling under the heavy weight of the Cross, goaded on by the cruel Jews. Fearing lest their victim should expire, they summon Simon of Cyrene to help Him with the cross; Veronica approaches and oft'ers Him her handkerchief to wipe His disfigured face; the women of Jerusalem, weeping over Him, are comforted and bidden "Weep not for me, l)ut for yourselves and your children." And then — oh, sad scene! — His Blessed Mother and St. John meet Him. " It is He; it is my son; it is my Jesus. Ah, \\here is sorrow like unto my sorrow!" John says: "Mother, wiff thou not go back to Beth- any? Thou canst not look upon this sight." But Mary replies: "How can a mother leave her child in his last and bitterest need? T will suffer with Him; scorn and disgrace 1 will l)ear with Him, and die witli Mini. Let us ffjllow Iliiu." And so the sad procession moves on. At tlic scene of the Crucifixion the curtain rises on the two thiex'cs bound by ropes on their respecti\'e 200 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. crosses. We have heard the sound of the hammer behind the scenes as the body of the Christus was nailed, and now we see the cross slowly raised and dropped into the hole prepared for it. So realistic is this that a shudder seizes one. The appearance of the nails on the hands and feet is perfect. The Christus says, "I thirst," and vinegar and gall are handed to Him, while the soldiers beneath Him are casting lots for His garments. The dying eyes turn from His mother to His beloved disciple, and we hear: "Son, behold thy Mother. Mother, behold thy Son." Presently the cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me!" then a loud cry, and the dying head falls. Presently the soldiers come to break the bones of the victims, and with stufifed clubs the thieves are disposed of, but they find the Christus already dead. Thus was fulfilled the prophecy that not a bone of His body should be broken. The centurion pierces His side, from which a red fluid flows and bears tes- timony: "Truly this man was the Son of God." Now the bodies of the two thieves are taken down, but the scene of the removal of the Christus was most impressive, and followed the picture of Rubens' " Descent from the Cross." The nails were wrenched, apparently, from the hands and feet, a long linen passed under the arms, and the body lowered into the arms of Mary and John. When it is removed Obcramincrgau and the Passion Play. 201 to the toml), Mary follows, supported by John, say- ing: " This is the last service I can render to my Jesus." Later, the tableau of the Resurrection and the afTrig-hted soldiers, and presently the Ascension, and as the last of the chorus leaves the stage, we sit a moment as awakening from a dream. So the great ])lay is over, and reluctantly we turn to leave the scene. How wonderful! Here in the Bavarian Highlands, far from the outer world, is a people in their daily lives so simple, innocent, pure and un- worldly, yet no where could we see such perfect delin- eation of character, such dramatic force, such losing of self and identification with the character re])re- sented. Surely this alone is the proof of the accept- ance by God of what, under other circumstances, we would regard as blasphemy. In no other place could this l)e produced as here, where it is the fulfillment of a solenni vow. The gentle historian of Oberam- mergau repudiates the idea that has been ad\-anccd, that the outer world l)rings here culture and refine- ment; on the contrarv. there is a strain of Infiv blood in this people, mingled with Christian luunil- ity. Look at the faces, study the characters. The historian says the Ammergauers, exclusive of I'.ttal. are an ancient, civilized and cultured people, their characters formed of the finest and noblest " mind atoms." "When the hjnpei-or, in 900, came o\er 202 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. the mountains, carrying the holy image, and set up the foundation of the monastery, the era dawned of enlightenment, which has matured from implicit faith the finest fruits in art and poesy. Here, as ever, the Catholic missionaries guided these barbaric people to civilization, and brought forth the tree of the cross of the Passion Play, from whose branches, reaching far over the limits of narrowness, the breezes of life- giving faith are wafted into the corrupted and blase world." I could go on borrowing from this charm- mg writer the story of a loved mountain home, but space forbids. The fascination embraces one of this lovely spot, a spirit of freedom and exaltation pos- sesses us, a lingering to say farewell. To those who come here with condescending ideas, I will say, you will go away abashed; only the most confirmed egotists can entertain such thoughts. The mechanism employed in the construction of the crucifixion was explained to me by the Baroness, for the illusion was so perfect, even under the strong glass that I used, I could not have believed the Christus was a living man. but that I saw him turn his head and heard him speak. A corselet with steel loop on the back is fastened to a corresponding hook on the cross, thus sustaining the weight of the body, while silken bands support the outstretched hands and the apparently piercing nails. And so again we Obcraiiuncrgaii and the Passioji Play. 203 l)id adieu, and leave this pretty spot, with its whole- some people in their picturesque Tyrol costumes, and carry with us memories which time can never efface. Now Innsbruck receives us, the capital of the Tyrol, noted for its salubrious climate and its art treasures. The ri\'er Inn flows l)y on its way to the Danube. The history of the town, as of all this country, is full of interest, embracing the early Roman possession, and now Austrian. The Fran- ciscan Church was founded by Ferdinand First, in honor of his grandfather, Maximilian First. The magnificent works of art contained in it l)rought skilled workmen here, and the King was indeed a father to his people. Through Spanish, French and Austrian wars Innsbruck has passed, making her a great history. As a patriot, the name of Andreas Hofer stands i)rominent, and his statue is magnifi- cent, on the beautiful wooded hill. Berg Isel. Dur- ing the struggle, while among the deep gorges, he sent his orders to his chiefs, signed, ".\ndreas Hofer, wherever I am," ami the replies were sent to "An- dreas Hofer, \vhere\'cr he is." The mountaineers repelled the invaders by hurling upon them rocks. trees and earth, and, as ever, the inspiration of love of libcrt\- made tlu-ni \'ictorious. lie bade his peo- ple, "Do not shout, hut i)ray." when in the exuber- ance of their jo\- thcx made glad ;Mid i)rotTcred him 204 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. homage, and added, " The Savior of our country is God himself." Later the French were victorious here, and Ilofer was seized and shot. Yet later Austria gained pos- session, and now holds the town. The National Museum contains rare works; the public buildings are very fine, including a university; the Schloss, or Castle, is much visited by tourists, as the home to which Ferdinand First took his wife. Philippine Welser, the daughter of a merchant. About the tomb of Maximilian First, in the Fran- ciscan Church, stand twenty-eight colossal bronze statues, once torch-bearers, each a work of art, rep- resenting knights and kings from Arthur. " The knight's bones are dust, his sword is rust, His soul is with the Saints, we trust." The tomb itself occupies great space in the center of the church. Christine of vSweden was here baptized a Catholic, There is a pleasing legend connected with the life of Maximilian First, who for his great daring and bravery was called the " Last of the Knights." Yonge's History relates that " he was a most fearless chamois hunter, and liad been in many terrible dan- gers from winds and avalanches in the Tyrolean mountains. Once he slipped down a precipice, Statuk oi" KiiNC. y\KTiui<. One of tlif twciity-fiffht l)ron/(.- stalucs siirromidiiif; Ihc toiiil) i>l" llic l-juix-ior Mnxiinilian I. in the Ilof Kirclii- at Innsbnick. Oberamniergan mid the Passion Play. 205 called the Martinswand, and was caught by a small ledge of rock with a cleft behind it, whence there was no way up or down. The whole population came out and saw him, but could do nothing to help him, or keep him from being starved. He threw down a stone with a paper fastened to it, begging that Mass might be celebrated below, and a shot fired to let him know the moment of the Consecration. At night, however, he suddenly appeared among his friends, saying that a shepherd boy had come and led him through a passage in the cleft through the mountain, and l)rought him back in safety. This shepherd was never seen again, and was l^elieved by the Tyrolese to have been an angel. A little church commemorates the event." CHAPTER XIII. ITALY - VERONA — VENICE — ST. MARK'S — PADUA — ST. ANTHONY'S SHRINE — FLORENCE — MICHAEL ANGELO— THE MISERI- CORDIANS — GALILEO — DANTE. Now we enter Italy, and these lines occur to me: " x\ni I in Italy? Is this the Mincius? Are those the distant turrets of Verona? And shall I sup where Juliet, at the masque Saw her loved Montague and now sleeps by him? Such questions hourly do I ask myself. And not a stone in a crossway, inscribed ' To Mantua,' ' To Ferrara,' but excites Surprise and doubt and self congratulation." Verona is built on both sides of tht Adige River, which sometimes overflows, producing great havoc. The amphitheater here is in excellent preservation, partly due to the efforts of Napoleon to partially re- store it in 1805. The principal attraction to many is the reputed tomb of Juliet, in the garden of a sup- pressed monastery. We also saw what was repre- sented as the veritable balcony to which the lover Romeo climbed, but it was in disagreeable surround- ings. A tablet on the wall testifies, " Here the Capu- lets dwelt." In traveling through such scenes as Italy — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 207 these, viewed through a veil of romance, it gives a shock to the emotions to hear such iconoclasts as "Mark Twain" scoff with irreverent humor at the traditions and pleasing legends attached. For in- stance, he calls Juliet's tomb a "horse trough." Dis- regard traditions, and we should all be like Mr. Grad- grind. in Dickens' Hard Times, mere sticklers for facts, stem facts. The tomb of the vScaligeri, the old Roman theater, and walls and gateways are most interesting. The churches demand much time; that of St. Zeno is said to be the oldest of Northern Italy, and contains his tomb. The Campanile, ancient 1)ronze doors, and, near by, the tomb of Pepin. The Cathedral porch contains reliefs of Charlemagne's Paladins, Roland and Oliver, and the tomb of St. Agatha. The Roman antiquities of Verona are par- ticularly interesting, and, as in all Italian cities, the works of art are too numerous for even passing men- tion. Where some excavations had been made an exquisite mosaic pavement has 1)een uncovered. The Medici Palace is now a workshop. There is a statue of Dante, and the house he occupied when exiled here. Three lunn-s by rail l)ring us to Venice, where we were taken into a gondola and transferred to a hotel on the Grand Canal. All seemed so strange; no sound of wheel or horse, only the lazy lapping of tlie 2o8 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. water and the cry of the gondoher as he approached a corner, to warn another boatman commg in an opposite direction. So skillful are these men that, while swiftly propelling us, they sometimes seem cer- tain to strike a wall or another boat, but a movement of the oar sends us safely past, not even grazing it. A little rest and lunch, and our impatience takes us out to the wonderful St. Mark's. At first we can only stand and wonder. Here, built upon piles, which, unfortunately, are making the beautiful mosaic floor uneven from their slight sinking, stands a marvel of human toil and skill. Pictures in mosaic which deceive the eye; treasures in precious stones around the pictures attributed to St. Luke, and occasionally exposed to view, and which we were so fortunate to see; and the tomb of St. Mark, whose body was only safely landed here by stratagem; the stone on which John the Baptist was beheaded; four elaborate col- umns from Solomon's Temple. St. Mark's chair is here, and the altar stone was brought from Mt. Tabor. We visited this church again and again, always finding something of new interest. We were fortunate in our guide, the one who had conducted Ruskin in his researches here. On the great square in front is the Campanile, which Napoleon ascended on horseback, the ascent being not by steps, but by an inclined plane. The clock tower, opposite, is > o Italy — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 209 curious, the hours being struck by bronze figures, with great hammers, on the bells. 'J'he Palace of the Doges was reached by the (Jiant Stairs, so called from the gigantic statues of Neptune and jNIars on either side of them, on top. Here the Doges were crowned. The Hall of the Grand Council, with its historical reminiscences, its grand paintings, including the largest in the world, by Tintoretto, carries one through much of Venice's glory and troubles. . One painting represents Pope Alexander Third presenting the Doge with the ring to wed the Adriatic, and the museum contains the relics of the vessel in which the ceremony was per- formed. After the inspection of the many grand can- vases, we passed to the Chamber of the Council of Ten. Here was an opening in the wall, once sur- mounted by a lion's mouth, as indeed there had been in man}- ])laces, but Napoleon had them destroyed. Into these openings anonymous letters were cast, denouncing any one for whom another might take a dislike. It is to be regretted that travelers accept so readily the old hackneyed tales of Venetian horrors; they should take the pains to learn the truth. The distinguished writer of Some Lies and Errors of His- tory and Studies in Church History says of this favorite scarecrow: " Certainly there was no more connection between this 'Lion's Mouth' and tvrann\' than there 2IO Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. is between tyranny and the postoffice boxes hanging on our lamp-posts. And as to the anonymous letters addressed to the Inquisitors, a law of 1387 decreed that they should be immediately burned. And when, towards the end of the sixteenth century, such dem- onstrations were sometimes admitted, no proceedings could be taken against the accused without a vote of four-fifths of the Council. And it is to be noted that the precautions taken against false testimony and false accusations were greater in Venice than in any other land." Many insist on connecting the clergy with "secret tribunals" and other bugaboos, but I will here insert a statement by Ruskin, in Stones of Venice, Volume I. In referring to his inability to give proper time to investigation of the restraints to which the Venetian clergy were subjected, he admits that the decline of Venetian power dates exactly from the period of exclusion of the clergy from the Coun- cils of State, and indorses Daru, who writes, "that at the close of the thirteenth century churchmen were not permitted to sit m vState Councils, and in 1434 the Council of Ten, with the Guinta, declared even the relations of clergy ineligible to the post of Am- bassador to Rome, and were expelled. The parish priests were ordered to close the church doors at the Ave Maria, and to not ring the bells at certain hours." This disposes of the connection of the Church with Italy — Michael An^elo — Galileo — Dante. 211 the famous Council of Ten. As to the " Inquisi- tion," intelHgent people are coming to be fair-minded enough to know it ^^■as a State affair. We crossed the famed "Bridge of Sighs," of which Byron wrote — " I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A prison and a palace on each hand," inspected the dungeons and prisons to which trav- elers have given such a bad name, but of which the philanthropist, Howard, said: ''The new prisons are the best in regard to health I have ever visited, while the old prisons are said to be no worse than other European places of detention, although painted so black in romances." Our guide also pointed out to us the ''Piombi," or cells under the leaden roof of the Ducal Palace, where alleged tortures took place, and unhap]iy ])risoners were subjected to the dreadful sunnner heat and winter's cold. Daniel Mannin, the Venetian patriot of 1848, thus rebuked one who had been lamenting the woes of Venice in the establish- ment of those fearful torture chambers, whose terrors romancers were so fond of de])icting: " Can it l)e possible that you. an educated and serious man, be- lie\-e these nonsensical yarns? Do you still credit the tales of your nursery days?' 1 know these Piombi and these Po/.zi: 1 have been conlincd therein, and I 212 Memories of a Red-Let fer Slimmer. can assure you that they are by no means uncomfort- able lodgmgs. Believe me when I say that all this talk about the cruelties of Venice is an old wife's tale." Ruskin measured tlie space between the prison cells and roof, and found them never less than five meters, and in some places nine meters high. This is but one instance. Out again through the Grand Court and across the Grand Canal we see the Church of Santa Maria della Salute, erected in 1632 in performance of a vow for the staying of the plague. The foundations are sustained by one million two hundred thousand piles. rV number of Titian's and Tintoretto's pictures are here, the masterpiece of the latter, the " Marriage in Cana," being especially noticeable. In the "Frari" are several tombs most interesting. That occupied by Canova was designed by him for Titian. The orig- inal was used for Christina of Austria, and is in Vienna, and his pupils executed this one for him- self. To my eyes, as to many others, it was a marvel of beauty. The inscription reads, " Hie Canova." Byron said of him: "Europe, the world, has but one Canova." His heart lies here, his right hand in the Academy of Arts, bis body in the village of his birth. Travelers accept Ruskin's opinions and form their own accordingly, but as T stood before the tomb of Canova, of his own design, Canova the great, I could Italy — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 213 not Imw \\\\ own ideas of the beautiful to those of Rnskin. who styles this tomb "intoleral)le in affecta- tion, ridiculous in conce])lion. null and \-oid to the uttermost in invention and feeling." Later in life, h(n\e\-cr, his views moderated, and he repudiated many of his early utterances. Titian's toml) is just opposite. A magnilicent conception, representing him seated and surrounded by the arts. His inscription, also simple, " Titiano, Ferdinandus." The other tomb most interesting was Foscari, one of the Doges, whose history is one of the most pathetic and tragic on record. His son, being innocently accused, was tortured and banished, .and he, the father, was obliged to pronounce sentence upon him. The Doge was not allowed to abdicate, as he wished, but after he had undergone the anguish of refusing the cry of his son, jileading that he might remain at home, cx'cn to endure the tortures of the rack, ,'uid the father said: " ( )bey what th\- counti'\" conunands, rnid seek nothing else," then the old Doge's enemies commanded his abdication, and then did his o\erstrung heart break in agon\. One of the most remarkable effects in marble that may be imagined is in the Chm-ch of the Jesuits. The puljjit appears to be co\-ered by draper\- and the carpets made to match, but it is .all cunningly car\ed marble, white and \ (.■ifb.antiiiue. The lloor mosaics 214 Memories of a Red-Lettcr Summer. are also remarkably fine, and Titian and Tintoretto are represented here. San Petro di Castillo is very ancient, and the reputed scene of the carrying away of the " Brides of Venice." Venice is indeed a storehouse of histo- rical interest. The churches alone '\vould occupy one for weeks, to say nothing of the galleries, museums and studies of antiquities in general. Once occupy- ing the proud position as Queen of the Adriatic, she has sunk to a collection of decaying palaces. Her connnerce as well as political power was once im- mense. She was the center of attraction to great men of every clime and calling. Here Galileo in- vented the telescope: St. Ignatius organized the Jesuits; Petrarch was honored, and his books formed the foimdation of the present great library. The first book printed in Italy was issued here, in 1460, as well as the lirst newspaper in the world: and the lirst liank was organized. T nnist take space here to describe a very impor- tant and interesting work, a map of the world, exe- cuted between 1457 and 1459 by the cosmographer, Fra Mauro, a monk of the Convent of St. Michele. This monk made another one for Prince Henry of Portugal, while the Venetian Aloise da Mosto, the discoverer of the Cape de Verde Islands, was there. Italy — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 215 Da Mosto informed the monk of the last discoveries of the Portuguese on the western shore of Africa. " South is on the top of the map. The connec- tion of Africa and Asia is strange. A copy of this map was sent to Florence in 1470. It is known that the idea to reach by the sea \Yay the countries de- scribed by Marco Polo arose first in Portugal, and that the Canon Martinez, of Lisbon, wrote to the mathematician, Toscanelli, in Florence, for a map showing the distance l:)etween the Portuguese and Asiatic shores. Toscanelli sent the map first to Mar- tinez, and after to Columbus, who used it for the discovery of America. Toscanelli's map was prob- ably made after Fra Mauro's map. The discoveries of Columbus up to the year 1500 were described by Pietro I\I. d'Aughiera, and translated bv Angelo Trevisan, the secretary to the Venetian Ambassador to Spain, and publisherl in Venice in 1504. The only copy in e.xistence is in the library of St. Mark's. A short time Ijefore the Venetian .\mbassador, Capello. had been, in 1497, I^rc^cnted b)- King Ferdinand with one of the Indian chiefs. Me brought him to Venice, and the government, belie\ing that the Indian was a king, sent him to i'adua, where he lived and died in the palace of the Ciovernor." I ha\c copied this description as a more accurate 2i6 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. account of the work which aided Columbus, and which we regarded accordingly with greatest interest. The square of St. Mark's is a never-failing center of interest. The surrounding corridors, with their bewildering array of beautiful and curious things, the passing of people of all nations, like a great kaleido- scope, the little tables where one may at once digest a lunch and the busy scene, and watch the swarms of doves, which are the delight of not only children, but also those of larger growth, while the corn merchant drives a profitable trade with his tiny bags of grain to feed the greedy little birds. The pigeons of St. Mark's are protected by law, as carrier pigeons once brought important messages to Venice from Dan- dolo. They are regularly fed at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and we were told that in Holy Week, when the bells do not ring, the time may be told by the regularity of their return from all over the city, to be fed. The square may be called the heart of Venice. Of it Petrarch wrote: " I know not that the world has the equal of this place." Here all the principal events of the city occur. Here are concert hall, forum, the points of meeting with friends, the great prome- nade, the scene alike of carnivals and religious pro- cessions, the historical center of Venetian history. Tournaments were once held here, and at the door of the church Barbarossa made his submission to the St. Mark's Church and Plaza, Venice. Italy — Michael rhii^clo — Galileo — Dante. 217 Sovereii^'ii Pontiff; and looking down on all are the bronze horses once ornamenting Nero's and Trajan's arches. These four bronze horses over the portico of St. Mark's have figured largely in history. They are attril)uted to Lysippus, the Greek. During the troul)led. early ages, these were regarded as precious tro{)hies by the conquerors. They were carried to Rome and placed on Trajan's triumphal arch, thence to Constantinople b}- Constantine, thence, after the fourth crusade, by the Venetians under their vener- able leader, Dandolo. In 1797 Napoleon seized and transported them across the Alps, where, in Paris, they graced the Triumphal Arch. In 181 5 Francis of Austria redeemed and returned them to Venice. The ])oet Rogers thus refers to them: ■ In this temple porch, Old as he was, so near his hundredth year, And Miml, his eyes put out, did Dandolo Stand forth, displayinj^ on his crown the cross. There did he stand, erect, invincible. There did he stand with his old armor on. Ere he sailed away, five hundred gallant ships, lie went to die. But. of his Irophiis. inui arrived ere Umir, Snatched from destruction, — the four steeds divine, That strike the ground, resounding with their feet. And from their nostrils snort ethereal flame Over that very porch." (10) 2i8 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. The winged lion of St. Mark's, on its Oriental column, with cavities for eyes, once jeweled, but de- stroyed by covetous captors, has a stormy history. The patron, St. Theodore, from his pedestal beholds the decaying grandeur of his old city and the coming of new peoples from afar to seie and comment. He is represented with the crocodile beneath his feet, sym- bolical of the fact that he destroyed the Eastern idols, the crocodile being held in veneration. For this he was martyred about the year 365. The guides tell us that the shafts which support the statue of St. Theo- dore and the Lion of St. Mark's were set up by a Lombard in 1171, who then and there was granted the right of lottery in the space between them, but at that period no games of chance were allowed in Venice. The injunction was laid upon Venetians: " Let the merchant's laws be just, his weights true, and his covenants faithful." The lion is in frequent evidence. The four guarding the entrance to the arsenal are very ancient, while above the door stands the ever-presiding " winged Lion " of St. Mark's. Entering a gondola, we glide along the Grand Canal, past moldering remnants of forgotten gran- deur, decaying palaces, each having some history, which our gondolier recalls to us as he mentions the name and points it out. Shakespeare and Byron have especially invested this place with a veil of ro- > o m Italv — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 219 niance. In one of the Mocenigo palaces Lord Byron lived and wrote several of his poems; and Tom Moore's brilliant presence once adorned it. The Foscari Palace, one of the finest specimens of Gothic architectnrc, wherein kings and queens ha\'e been guests, is now a commercial school. The Palace of Manin, the residence of the late Doge of Venice, is now a l)ank. Oneriri Palace l)elonged to a famil\- who were engaged in a conspiracy eight hundred vears ago, and it was in consequence as punishment conxerted into a slaughter house. The owner of the Pisarro Palace died in exile rather than behold his l()\ed Venice under the French flag. Tasso once occni)icd here a palace; and coming down to modern da)'s. the Brownings resided here, and a numljcr of rich Fnglish and Americans are buying up these old palaces. The Palace of Dandolo, who w^as elected Doge at the age of eighty-four, and distinguished himself with the crusaders at the siege of Constan- tinople, in sijite of his great age, ninety-sex-en, is now a cafe. The Calergie Palace bears on its outer walls the inscri])tinn, " Xon nobis, Domine, non nobis." Desdemona's Palace is ])f)inted out, and "the house of gold" was once of great magnificence. So. through this array of ancient s])lendor we l1oat. imag- ination busih' at work amr)ng the ruins. ImsIi mar- ket, llour market, ofiices, now sup])lant the ])laces 2 20 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. once sacred to wealth and aristocracy. In the front of many, however, are the painted poles for the se- curing of the gondolas by the marble steps. Even steam launches are invading the waters of the Grand Canal, and their shrill whistle mingles with the cry of the gondolier. So we reach the Rialto, a fine specimen of bridge building, with shops along each side, but ending with a dirty little street full of ven- ders of all sorts of things. This part of the city is very ancient, being the Rialto proper, made familiar by Shakespeare's Mer- cliant of Venice, where Shy lock lived and walked. Shakespeare makes Shylock say: " Seignior Anto- nio, many a time and oft in the Rialto you have rated me about my moneys and my usances." Rialto is one of the largest islands where merchants most do congregate. Of the lovely moonlights Portia said: " The night, methinks, is but the daylight sick." And we realize this as we take a gondola and float out in the moonlight towards the Lagoon, passing the sing- ers grouped here and there in boats, around which gondolas are crowded, filled with happy and appre- ciative listeners. So on and on we glide, no rude sound disturbs us, our world on the placid waters, and the glorious moon above us, out almost to the Lido, one of the islands whose bathing facilities and other attractions bring thousands yearly to visit the o Italy — Michael Avgelo — Galileo — Dante. 221 ancient city for mere pleasure, as well as to revel in its beauties and antiquities. After we bad passed tbe musicians, our g-ondolier M\n^ for us. Let us wliis- per one drawback to our enjoyment bere, tbe " fes- tive mosquito." I must mention, before leaving Venice, the wonderful glass work done here. For centuries this has lieen tbe great center of such work, and the magical creations only improve with time. We walked through tbe shops, admiring the fairy- like production and delicai-e tintings, Init, oh, when wc went in where tbe work was done, and saw the poor workmen sitting, red-eyed and wear}-, in the hot glare of the blow-pipe, our sympathies overcame our admiration. Now we go on to Padua, to visit tbe shrine of our dear St. Anthony, " the wonder-worker," the gentle, lovable saint, who belongs not only to Padua, but to the whole world. To the mere tourist Padua pre- sents the attraction of great antiquity, founded by Antenor, brother of Priam, King of Troy. This \vas the home of Excelino, who was such a demon of cruelty that tbe Pope is said to have preached against him, and Dante pictures his eternal torments in a sea of boiling blood. We noticed a tablet on a wall, which proclaimed it the spot which, in 1237, Excelino kissed tbe gate in joy for tbe capture of l^adua. Tn front of a house once ocnipied by l)ante is a sar- 222 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. cophagTis supposed to contain the remains of the founder of Padua. The university is renowned, and accommodates over a thousand students. Padua is called " the learned," and was a nursery of art. The university was founded in the thirteenth century, and it is said that Petrarch, Galileo and Columbus studied here. Students have numbered as high as eighteen thousand. Its courts and halls still contain coats-of- arms of benefactors. It is now very much reduced. Loml^ardy's rich plain, naturally so well situated, has been called a " pleasure garden." Padua contains several plazas with statues, and the churches, as usual, are the depositories of many valuable works of art by the masters. The older streets have arcades over the sidewalks, and the botanic gardens are the oldest in Europe. But the shrine of St. Anthony was the center of attraction for us, and here we spent much time. Two magnificent candelabra adorn the tomb; in the sanctuary is a reliquary with his tongue, and has reliefs depict many of his miracles. With what fervor we implored the intercession of the great saint, so much the object of Divine love, that the Sacred Infant rewarded his great longing for Him b}^ reposing in his arms. We passed from here to the Church of St. Gius- tina. Over the high altar is a picture of her martyr- dom, painted by Paul Veronese, and her body lies Italy — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 223 beneath. To the right is the body of St. Matthew, and to the left that of St. Luke. We were admitted to the vauks beneath the church, and saw the tiny prison-house of the saint, behind bars, scarcely larger than a coftin, in which she endured imprisonment for five years, by order of Nero, when she was put to death. .\ large well contains the bones of three thousand martyrs, visible by a lighted candle, low- ered. The piazza Victor Emmanuel, with its stat- uary and trees, is very handsome, but the name grated on our ears in connection with those we had just been venerating. The Church of Madonna dell' Arena, dating back to 1300. contains a number of Giotto's frescoes. A stroll arrunid the old city recalled many events in its history, but the large market square, with its busy life, brought one back to the very lively present. Now we go on to Florence, and recall here Bry- ant's apostrophe to the Apennines: " Ages of war have filled tlicsc plains with fear; How oft tlic hind ha.s started at the clash Of spears and yell of meeting armies here, Or seen the lightning of the battle flash From clouds, th:it, rising with the thunder's sound, Hung like an carth-hmn tempe.st o'er the ground." [>cautiful IHorence on Ihc .Xrno! Like other European cities, this was the scene of much con- 224 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. tention between the Guelphs and Ghibellines. ^The Medici family was the prevaiHng power for many years, but they finally became extinct, and a visit to the "Tombs of the Medicis," where the sculpture and designs are by Michael Angelo, is a sad commentary on human greatness. The family, which once dom- inated Florence, lies here in dust, the name only perpetuated in cold marble. Before the tomb of " Lorenzo the Magnificent " I stood, fascinated by the marble figure seated above, with drooping head and finger on lip, as if in deepest thought. Never have I seen a piece of sculpturing which so attracted me, and I found it hard to tear myself from the contemplation of this solemn, mystic figure. The first visit, of course, on reaching Florence was to the Cathedral. The dome, the widest in the world, by Brunelleschi, was a model for St. Peter's in Rome. Giotto's Tower, begun in 1334, was built by the great artist under orders for the " most mag- nificent " the world has ever seen, and after that I leave it to the imagination what it is. Ruskin called it " the model and mirror of perfect architecture." Giotto was but a poor shepherd boy, whose talent was discovered by Cimabue. His fame reaching Rome, Pope Boniface VITL, wishing to prove him, asked for a sign, when Giotto traced with a single stroke of his pencil a circle so perfect that it gave Dante Observing the Giotto Tower^ Florence. Italy — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 225 rise to the Italian pro\-eri). " Ixounder than the O of Giotto." \\'e were shown the stone on which Dante used to sit and watch the work on the Tower, and of course we made most of our observations from that point. Longfellow thus writes of Giotto's Tower: ■■ In the old Tuscan town stands Giotto's tower, The Hly of Florence, blossoming in stone, — A vision, a delight and a desire, — The builder's perfect and centennial flower That in the night of ages bloomed alone." The baptistery, an octagonal building, dates back fifteen lum(h'ed years. Flere all the children born in the city are brought for baptism. The bronze doors are marvels of art; one might stud\' them a long time without tiring. Michael Angelo declared them worthy to 1)e the gates of Paradise. The interior of the building is gloom}', but ihe eye becomes accus- tomed to it. and is delighted with the mosaics and statues. In the pavement is a mosaic of the Zodiac, made !)}• an astrologer in 1048. The Misericordiae was next visited, under the direction of oiu^ intelligent guide. We were shown all possible courtesy. The society dates back to 1240, when a pious man. in order to correct some abu.ses, formed a society to impose fines on those who shoidd be guilty of blasphemy. \\ ith this fund they 226 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. were to purchase conveyances for the sick or the burial of the dead. For six hundred years they have pursued these works of mercy, and among the mem- bers are numbered some ilkistrious names. We were shown the name of the King, as an honorary member. A long gown and hood, with merely eye holes, dis- guise effectually the wearer. A gentleman who took us in charge showed us the Htters, explained all their workings, and donned the dress, which is quickly assumed when there is a call for their services. W. D. Howells writes of this Order in a " Florentine Mosaic" : " The sentimentalist may despair as he pleases, and have his fill of panic about the threatened destruction of the Ponte Vecchio, but I say, that while these brothers, ' black stoled, black hooded like a dream/ continue to light the way to dusky death with iheir flaring torches through the streets of Florence, the mediaeval tradition remains unbroken; Italy is stili Italy. They knew better how to treat death in the Middle Ages than we do now, with our vain profanation of flowers to his service, our loathsome dapperness of ' buiial caskets,' and dress coat and white tie for the dead. " These simple, old Florentines, with their street wars, their pestilences, their manifold destructive violences, felt instinctively, that he, the inexorable, was not to be hidden or palliated, not to be softened or petrified, or anywise made the best of, but was to be confes'^ed in all his terrible gloom, and in this they found not comfort, not alleviation, which time alone can give, but the anaesthesis of a freezing horror. Italy — Micharl Aiigclo — Galileo — Dante. 227 "These masked and trailing sable fignres sweeping through the wide and narrow ways by night, to the wild, long rhythm ot their chant, in the red light ot their streaming torches, and bearing the heavily draped bier m iheir midst, supremely awe the spectator whose heart falters within him in the presence of that which alone is certain to be." Near the baptistery is a marble pillar, which has a peculiar history. \\'hen the body of St. Zanobius was passing this spot to its burial, the bier touched a withered tree standing there, and it burst into bloom. On each anniversary a metal branch is placed on the column to commemorate the event. We were shown the house of Cellini, whose Perseus is a marvel of sculpture; also the house of Ghiberti, whose fame is connected with the wonderful bronze gates of the Duomo; residences of Michael Angelo and of Machi- ax'elli, identified with the history of Florence; the gloomy looking house where J3ante wrote his Infcnw, and of Amerigo Vesinicci, whose name our country bears. And up hill we drove to the house of Galileo, stood in the room where his familiar objects still re- main, climbed u\) the tower from which he used to observe the heavens, and sigherl o\'er the fate of blindness which overto(d< him. and which must have been to him especially a terrible aflliction. In this room he was visited by Milton, who also became blind. While on the subject of Galileo 1 wish to 228 Memories of a Rr.d-hetter Summer. insert here some remarks which I hope may stimu- late those who may read these pages, to investigate the other side of the story of what has been presented to a credulous and prejudiced public. I shall quote briefly from the distinguished Reuben Parsons' article on Galileo: " School children are frequently told that in a time of most dense ignorance, Galileo, an Italian astronomer, discovered that the earth moves around the sun ; that this doctrine was contrary to that of the Catholic Church, and that, therefore, the unfor- tunate scientist was seized by the Inquisition, thrown into a dungeon and tortured ; that finally he retracted his teaching, but that, nevertheless, while ostensibly yielding, he muttered: 'And yet the earth does move.' Very few Protestants even suspect any exaggeration in these assertions, still fewer appear to know that Galileo did not discover that the earth moves around the sun; that this doctrine was not contrary to that of the Catholic Church ; that the imprisonment of Galileo was merely nominal, and that he was subjected to no torture whatever; that the famous remark, ' E pur si muove,' is a work of imagination. The Church can not propose any system of merely physical science as a matter of faith, and if any system contradicts her teachings, she has a right to condemn it. Cardinal del Monte wrote : ' If I were living in the olden days of Rome, I think the worth of Galileo would be recognized by a statue on the Capitoline.' ' The fault of Galileo consisted in his confusing revealed truths with physical discoveries, and in teaching in what sense Scripture pass- ages were to be taken, explaining them by demonstrations of cal- culation and experience, and he said that in the Scriptures are G.M.ii.Ko'rt TowKK. Fr.oRENCiv, Itaia'. //c7/_v — Michael Angela — Galileo — Dante. 229 . found propositions which, taken Hterally, arc false. These asser- tions unsettled all science, founded, as it then was, on revelation,' and so on for many pages." This is quoted from Parson's Lies and Errors of History. We saw the house and bridge, Ponte Vecchio, five hunch'ed years old, from which Tito jumped to escape the mob. as George Eliot's romance of Romola re- lates. Coming down to modern persons, we saw the former residence of the Brownings, the " Casa Guidi," on which a tablet has been placed, for Mrs. Brown- ing has endeared herself 10 the Florentines. She is iDuried in Florence. The house of Hiram Powers, our American sculptor, was pointed out to us. and Ouida now resides here. The beautiful Boboli Gar- dens are adjacent to the Pitti Palace, which is one of the great centers of art collections. The Piazza del Signoria is in the center of the city, and has been the scene of many political events. Here was the prison and death scene of Savonarola, and near by. under a grand marble portico, the Loggia of the Lancers, in which stand wonderful works of art, the Per'^eus of Cellini and other famed pieces. It seemed so strange to us to see such treas- ures exposed to open air. Among monuments we noted that of ]*rincc DcmidolT. I lis father was a 230 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. poor blacksmith, who rose, under favor of the Czar, from one post to another, until he received a title of nobility, and the son made yearly visits to Florence and bestowed vast sums in charity. There is a mon- ument to Maharajah Chuttraputti, an Indian Prince, who died here en route from England to his Indian home. His body, according to the customs of his people, was carefully prepared, tenderly laid upon a magnificent funeral pile, and was so consumed. His ashes were carefully collected and sent to his home in a golden vase. There is a statue to Dante, whose troubled life at last ended at Ravenna, which city declined to surrender his body to its native Florence. In the Church of Santa Croce are the tombs of Michael Angelo, who here chose his resting place, Galileo, Alfieri, Machiavelli, Cherubini, and a beau- tiful monument to Dante. Eyron wrote: " In Santa Croce'o holy precincts lie Ashes which make it holier, dust which is Even in itself an immortality, Though there were nothing save the past." In the Museum of San Marco, once a monastery, are many works of Fra Angelico and Fra Barthol- omeo. At the Church of St. Michaele, in the group of the apostles, stands St. Mark, by Donatello, to which it is said Michael Angelo spoke, attracted by its life-like appearance: "Why dost thou not speak Italy — Michael Angclo — Galileo — Dante. 231 to me, Mark?" Beautiful Florence; nature and art have combined to make her a perfect city. To us, strangers, mere visitors of the day, her loveliness ap- peals. WHiat must have been the regrets that filled the soul of her great son Dante when exiled from her! Our brief time deprives us the privilege of visit- ing V^alamlirosa. Milton loved this place, and of him Mrs. Browning wrote: "' He sang of Paradise and smiled, remembering Valambrosa." Pascarel wrote: " Every road, every gable, every tower, has some story of the past in it." Well, we made the most of our little time in drives and walks and gathering mementoes, from the olive branches from " Minerva's tree " and little flowers along the way, to bits of views and other objects associated with the lovely Tuscan city. CHAPTER XIV. ROME — THE FORUM — COLISEUM — ST. PETER'S — DOMINE, QUO VADIS — CATACOMBS- YEAR OF JUBILEE— GOLDEN DOOR — PAPAL AUDIENCE — LEO XIII. After six hours' ride from Florence we reached Rome, the " Eternal City." Proceeding to the Hotel Minerva, by advice of a clergyman friend, we find ourselves much at home, as many connected with the English pilgrimage are here, and our own language has a musical sound, after so long an experience of foreign tongues. In front of our hotel stands an ancient Egyptian obelisk on the back of a marble elephant, dating back over six hundred years B.C. We cross the street, and are in the Church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva. This spot was once occupied by a temple, built by Domitian to the goddess Minerva. On the 2 1 St of April the Romans celebrate the Palilian festival, in honor of Pales, the goddess of shepherds. Everything is done with the idea of re- viving the customs of ancient Rome. It is to com- memorate the tradition of the shepherds, who discov- ered the twin sons of the god Mars and the Vestal, Rome — 77?r Catacombs — Leo XIII. 233 Rhea Sylvia, Romulus and Remus, being nursed by a wolf on the Palatine Hill, where they afterwards began the wall that was Rome's foundation. After our thanksgiving for a safe journey and the privilege of visiting Rome, we turn across another street, and are in front of the Pantheon. This place was the Campus JMartius. The building, now known as St. Mary of the Martyrs, was built by Agrippa, whose name is cut in great letters over the portico. " To the honor of all the gods." A Pantheon. We gaze in awe at this great circular structure, and pass into the portico, forty-four feet wide and one hun- dred and ten feet long, supported by sixteen columns. The Popes have had repairs made since the temple was changed from Pagan to Christian worship. The immense dome is roofless, and the interior is lighted \\\ tliis way; the floor gently sloping, soon carries ofl^ the rain. Tlic niches around the wall, where Agrippa had statues of heathen deities, are now occupied by altars. The tomb of Raphael is here, who willed the statue of the Madonna on the altar, and near by is also the tomb of his promised wife, who died before he did. The tomb of Victor Emmanuel was much noted by the parties visiting, and was covered with wreaths. Many relics of the martyrs arc here pre- servecl. Tlic bronze doors are the same placed here by Agripjia at the l)uil(Hiig of this temple, twenty- 2.34 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. seven years before Christ. The Column of Trajan commemorates his deeds by bas reliefs in spiral bands, and the study of them is the study of his life and his love by his people. He liked the society of literary men, and was the friend of PHny and Tacitus. Among the most noted obelisks was that on the Piazza del Popolo, brought here by Augustus and raised in honor of Apollo. Hawthorne says: " This red granite obelisk is the oldest of old things in Rome, and all assume a visionary character when we think that this monument suppHed one of the recol- lections which Moses and the Israelites bore from Egypt into the desert. Perchance on beholding it they whispered, awe struck, to one another: ' In its shape it is like that old obelisk which we and our fathers have so often seen on the borders of the Nile' ; and now that very obehsk, with hardly a trace of decay on it, is the first thing that a modern traveler sees on entering the Flaminian Gate." The obelisk of the Lateran was brought here by Constantine from a temple of the sun at Heliopolis, where it stood in honor of Pharaoh Thotmes Fourth a hundred and seventy-four years before Christ, Another obelisk from the same place was brought by Caligula, and stands in a piazza in front of St. Peter^s. On the occasion of its removal from where he placed it to this spot, over three hundred years ago, the incident Rome — The Cafacombs — Leo XIII. 235 occurred \\hich James AEeline graphically relates. Owing" to the immensity of the nndertaking, in which nine hundred Nvorkmen were engaged, strict silence among the spectators had been commanded, that the orders of those in charge might be heard and there should be no distractions. Meline says: '■ Suddenly this .silence was broken by a shrill cry, ' Wet the ropes! ' Smoke had been issuing from them, and they were about to catch fire when the warning came. The warning cry was uttered by a Genoese woman named Bresca, whose presence of mind was equaled by her courage, for the threatened penalty of breaking silence was death. As a recompense for her brave disobedience, she obtained for herself and her descendants the privilege of furnishing the palms used at St. Peter's on Palm Sunday, and her family preserve the monopoly to this day." The broken obelisk in front of the Pantheon is from the Temple of Isis. ]\Iany of the triumphal arches have been demol- ished. Among" those remaining we noticed one of Drusus. to celebrate victories over the Germans near the time of the Christian era. The Arch of Constan- tine, erected in 312, is a study of history in l)as reliefs, and is well preserved, while that of Titus commem- orates the destruction of Jerusalem, and bears bas reliefs of the Jewish captives bearing the treasures to Rome, including the golden candlesticks. The Roman baths are a marvel of former magnifi- cence. Thev were nnnicrDUs, and were the resorts of 236 Memories of a Red-Letfer Summer. the fashionables of the day. At the Diocletian Bath three thousand bathers were accommodated at one time. The ruins of the baths of Caracalla, on the Appian Way, give evidence of the high state of per- fection to which these things were brought. Libra- ries, paintings, statuary, gardens, and fountains of hot and cold water, mosaic pave — all show the lux- urious living of old Roman times. Here one thou- sand six hundred bathers had room at one time. The aqueducts brought water for miles to the city, and were stupendous structures; one dating back three hundred and twelve years before the Christian era. On an artificial lake in Caesar's garden, Augustus gave sea fights, in which three thousand men en- gaged. During one period three hundred and thirty- three million gallons daily were served free to the people, and five hundred and ninety-one open reser- voirs contained water for all who came to carry it aw^ay. Fountains are on every hand, with their co- pious flows of water. Sewerage system or drainage was so finely engineered that the walls still remain as firm as when built, nearly twenty-five hundred years ago; one is in perfect order. Over seventeen hun- dred years ago Pliny wrote of this work: " Seven streams are emptied into this channel and sweep like a torrent; and when storm waters are added, the walls shake. The Tiber rises and is beaten back; earth- Rome — The CatacoDibs — Leo XIII. 237 quakes cause the place to tremble; great weights are carried through, yet the work stands uninjured. A monument to antiquity, which is too often unno- ticed." Pliny describes Rome as a city suspended in the air, on account of her fine sewerage. Truly the Romans builded for eternity. One wall, likewise erected twenty-five hundred years ago, being re- quired to l)e remo\'ed for a railway, could onl}' be stirred by blasting. Their roads, constructed centu- ries ago, wherever their conquests led them into Ger- many or Britain, still remain perfect. The Appian Way, " the c|ueen of roads," fifteen feet wide and over a hundred miles long, is a mar\-el of road building. At the Forum we paused among the ruins. The graceful pillars, which once supj^orted the Temple of Saturn, are from nearly \\\<^ hundred \'cars before Christ. Excavations ha\'e brought much to light: Three pillars remain of the Temple of Castor and Pollux; the Basilica Julia; and the rostrum where Marc Antony deli\'ered his oration o\er the dead body of Caesar, and X'irginins slew his daughter, 'i'he head of Cicero hung here after his murder by order of Antony. At one end stood the " Golden Milestone." from whence, as mistress of the world. Bonu- compiUed distances to other ])arts. A tomb is here, regarded as that of Boumlus. 'i'he W-stal Temple is still beautiful. We \isited the theater of 238 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Marcellus, built thirteen years before Christ. It is near the Ghetto, or Jewish quarter. We were con- ducted through the immense parts, still preserved, and over the arches the smoke still marks the de- struction of Rome by fire under Nero. There re- mains of it chiefly the great semicircle of the audi- torium, a double arcade. Our guide bade us look up what seemed an immense chimney, and told us that criminals were sometimes cast down here. Above the ruins of the old theater the palace of the Orsini family stands, while on the streets in the old arches workmen of different trades keep hammer and saw at work. Here was also once the Cenci Palace, and we were shown the room of the ill fated Beatrice, whose tomb is in St. Petro in Montorio. The Tarpeian Rock, down which criminals were once hurled, did not appear so formidable. Haw- thorne's romance makes attractive to tourists Hilda's Tower, where a lamp was ever kept burning. The bronze Aurelius, said to be the finest equestrian statue in the world, stands on a public square. We cross the yellow Tiber on a bridge built seven- teen hundred years ago by Hadrian, as a path to the magnificent mausoleum he erected for his sepulture. It has been repaired and added to, but the original arches remain. The tomb was once surmounted by a statue of Hadrian, and other statues stood around Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 239 the walls, but these were cast down on the Gothic invaders in 537. Where Hadrian's statue stood is now the figure of an angel sheathing his sword, and the tomb is now the Castle of St. Angelo. The statue was erected in memory of an apparition beheld by Pope Gregory in 590, while leading a procession to St. Peter's to pray for the cessation of the plague. The Church of St. Gregory is in honor of the saint who, in the beginning of the seventh century, went as a missionary to Great Britain. Montalembert said: '' Where is the Englishman who can contemplate, without emotion, this corner of the great world, from whicli he received the Faith, the name of Christian, and the Bible of which he is so proud!" The golden house of Nero was built by the tyrant over the immense space, to obtain which, in A.D. 64. the great fire was employed to sweep the grounds he desired to occupy. This house is proven by archae- ologists to ha\'e occupied nearly a square mile. There were gardens, baths, lakes, fountains and temples, and he had his own statue of colossal size in bronze. The tiles of his roof were plated with gold. Titus and others took pains to destroy this tyrant's work, and now, after eighteen hundred \cars, little remains of this crowning piece of \-anity of Nero's life. He pre- sumed too far on e\en the lu\ury-lo\ing ])eo])le, and at last thev revolted, and his downfall came; and as 240 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. he drank the poisoned cup, he exclaimed: " What an artist the world loses in me!" Under Nero the fiercest persecutions raged. The Christians were sewed in the skins of wild beasts to be worried by dogs, or covered with pitch and set up to light the city. The Coliseum! What a monument to the build- ers of ancient Rome! " We stood within the Colosseum's walls Mid the chief relics of almighty Rome. Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth; But the gladiator's bloody circus stands, A noble wreck in ruinous perfection." The Amphitheater occupies six acres of ground, and this is surrounded by four stories of arches. The arena could be flooded with water for mock naval battles, but here on these sands gladiators fought, wild animals were turned loose upon each other, and these ancient walls have echoed the cry:. "The Chris- tians to the lions!" Our guide broke from a step a piece of brick as hard as flint, and I thought of the toiling captive Jews, who under Titus were forced to give their labor to this massive work. After the de- struction of Jerusalem by Titus, many thousand Jews were taken captive to R(jme, and these were com- pelled to labor on the construction of this stupendous afifair. The cost might not be estimated, but Titus RoDie — Th.c Catacombs — Leo XIII. 241 is said to have turned to it the course of a river of gold. It would seat eiglity-seven thousand people. One of the early martyrs was the holy Bishop, St. Ignatius. Cast to the v.ild beasts in the arena, he prayed: " I am the grain of the Lord, to be ground by the teeth of the lions, in order to be made the liread of Christ." \\'e felt that indeed we stood on sacred ground, consecrated 1\\' the Idood of martyrs, from the aged Bishop, through strong manhood, deh- cate womanhood, to the crimson tide from the brave hearts of innocent maidenhood and infancy. The last martx'r of the Coliseum was the pious monk, Tele- macluis. in the }-ear 404. Entering Rome, he fol- lowed the crowd to the a''ena, where the Calends of January were to be inaugurated, and as the games had not commenced, his presence was noted for its fjuiet manner, and conjectures N\ere many as to his identity. The gladiators entered and the fierce combats began. l)Ut Telemachus, seized with horror, leaped from his place, sprang between the combat- ants, and whirled them apart. The wildest frenzy possessed the spectators, while the gladiators stood in wonrler as at the sight of a superior being. The holy monk endeavored to address the ])eople, but in their rage they tore up Ixmches and cast upon him with \vhatc\cr nu'ssiles came to hand, and kneeling on the sands, he expired, a mart\"r. 'idic iCmiJcror (II) 242 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Honorius suppressed the inhuman sport, and thus the sacrifice of Telemachus vv^as accepted in heaven. A ring of tall masts once rose above the walls for the support of awnings, and the immense blocks of travertine were held together by iron clamps instead of mortar. Great holes show where these fasten- ings have been wrenched away for use elsewhere. For many years it was used for a quarry, from which material was carried for other buildings, but the later Popes have endeavored to protect, and in some places restored sufficiently to prevent further decay. We saw the cages where wild beasts had been, and the rooms for the gladiators to await their call to be " butchered to make a Roman holiday." Precious indeed is this place to Christian faith! The arena had a cross erected in the center, and the stations of the Cross around it, but the government under Victor Emmanuel had all these removed, and there are no more religious processions, no more open-air preaching. The venerable Prisoner of the Vatican remains, and receives within his walls the homage of his people. There his life is spent in prayer for them and the return of Faith, whilst against the " rock of Peter " beat wildly, but vainly, the waves of heresy, unbelief and persecution, secure in the Divine prom- ise, that " the gates of hell shall never prevail against Rome — Tlie Catacombs — Leo XIII. 243 her." From the walls of the Coliseum, as other ven- erable ruins, the clinging vines have been torn away, depriving them of the picturesque appearance they presented in Mother Nature's mantle. One recalls the lines: " VAHiile stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls, the world." But who would attempt to do justice to this one spot in Rome! Goethe wrote: "One should have a hundred hands to write, for what can a single pen do here? All else seems little, so vast is this; one can not hold the image in one's soul. We return each time to find it greater than before. Wdien I lea\'e Rome I shall wish I were still coming to it." The Capitoline Hill was a citadel, and near here are the ruins of the Temple Concordia, where Camil- lus, Czcneral and Dictator, weary of contentions, vowed and built a temple to the newly created di^'inity. A ])ious writer says of the palaces of Rome, " Scarcely a trace of personality of pagan life re- mains," and contrasts them with the dreary Mamer- tine Prison, where we saw the water still nnming which sprang at the cnnnuand of the ajxistlc to bap- tize his jailer converts: where Peter and Paul suf- fered, and on the side of the wall, descending into 244 Memories of a Red- Letter Suvimer. the dungeon, protected by an iron grill, remains the impress of St. Peter's face, miraculously preserved, where the soldiers had rudely crushed him against the stone. In the church above, of St. Peter in Prison, especial prayers are offered for deliverance from violent death. At the home of St. Alessio is seen the decaying stairway under which he lived for seventeen years, a disguised beggar in his patrician father's house. So hundreds and hundreds of personal surroundings of the saints remain. Passing out of St. Paul's gate through the walls, we note a pyramid to our right, which is the tomb of Caius Cestius, praetor, priest and tribune, who died twelve years before the Chris- tian era. Along this Appian Way have passed many triumphal processions returning to Rome after con- quests, laden with treasures, and their prisoners chained to their chariot wheels. Here, among others, came Palmyra's captive queen, Zenobia. And these stones have been pressed by the feet of the apostles and the fleeing Christians. Tombs crowd both sides of the way. The family vault of the Scipios is noted, but the " Scipios' tombs contain no ashes now." Here once rested the remains of Barnatus, the great grandfather of Scipio Africanus. who pursued Han- nibal into Africa two hundred years before Christ, but Barnatus died in exile. Rome — Tlw Catacombs — Leo XIII. 245 Two hundred and eighteen years before Christ, Hannibal crossed the Alps, far south. This was a wonderful achievement, as he had to fight his way across the land before reaching the mountains. He started with ninety thousand foot soldiers and twelve thousand horsemen and a large number of elephants. The winter was at hand, yet he accomplished his pur- pose. It is well to recall here the achievements of the philosopher Archimedes, six years later, who at the siege of Syracuse set fire to the ships of the Romans by means of burning glasses, concentrating" the sun's rays, and his construction of pow^erful en- gines of war, which aided in the defense of the city. Scipio Africanus, the conc[ueror of Hannibal, was the father of the noble lady, Cornelia, whose womanly virtues have shone down through the ages, and whose elegant accomplishments made her home a center for the assembly of learned people. Withal her children were her " jewels," and at her death a statue was erected in her honor, with the simple inscription, " Cornelia, llic mother of the Gracchi." We stopped at a modest little cha])el by the road- side, built to commemorate the scene where Peter, fleeing from persecution, met our I)i\-ine Lord, and, in surprise at the apparition, cried: " Domine, cjuo vadis?" — "Lord, where goest Thou?" The l^ord re- plied: "1 return to be crucified in thy place"; but 246 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Peter, stricken with remorse, turned back, and suf- fered, liead downward, by his own wish, as unworthy to be crucified like his Master. The impress of the Sacred Feet was left on the Way, but was removed, and is on the altar in San Sebastian Church. A fac- simile remains here, carved in marble, and surrounded by an iron railing. Two frescoes on the wall keep in mind the incident, also a copy of Michael Angelo's " Christ Bearing His Cross," as St. Peter met Him. The Arch of Drusus, near by, is the most ancient of all the arches built in his honor, and along this Way his body was carried, to be buried by his step- father, Augustus. It was written of this period' "At the moment when Drusus was throwing bridges across the Rhine and cutting roads through the Black Forest, it was time to make haste. For ten years later a town of Judea would give birth to Him whose disciples were to pass along these roads and complete the destruction of barbarism." Now we enter beneath a gateway and ruined tomb and pass dark cypress trees, along a foot-walk, up to a little building, where Trappist monks guard the entrance of the catacombs of St. Calixtus. As we register our names from Kentucky, before starting on the descent, the English-speaking monk smiles and says: "Ah, yes, Kentucky — we have there a house!" and seemed much interested, for at Gethsemane, in Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 247 Kentiickw is their retreat. We received our tapers, and followed him with awe down the steps to the sacred way of the early Christians and martyrs. So sacred is even the dust of the tombs, now merely empty niches, that no one ma}' remove a particle, under pain of excommunication. Numerous pent houses, roofed with glass, stand about the fields for air and light for the larger chambers. The heart is thrilled with sacred emotions on descending into these'repositories of the ancient Christian dead. As we passed, taper in hand, among the silent, empty tombs, we thought of the fleeing Christians, who here in secresy attended the Divine Sacrifice, enter- ing through hidden paths known only to the faithful, but even then often surprised and dragged to torture and death by the pagan soldiery. We are indebted mainly to the efforts of Pope Pius IX., of blessed memory, for organizing, in 1851, a Commission of Archaeology, headed by the great scientist, De Rossi, and composed of greatly learned men. to conduct, in a systematic manner, researches in the catacombs, thus enriching the world with the relics of the past. These galleries are estimated to comprise three hundred and fifty miles, and with their many windings and turnings form many a labyrinth, into which none dare enter without a guide. De- voted to the burial of Christian dead, the inscriptions 248 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. read of hope, of prayers for the souls, of the symbols of faith. Alas! for the scoffer who would enter these sacred precincts. Dead, indeed, to the workings of Divine Grace the heart that would not here bow in humble adoration, and concede the consoling prac- tice of prayers for the dead. Our guide frequently directed us to hold our tapers to some inscriptions and faint frescoes of pious, symbolical nature on the walls. What other proof need one require than a visit to the catacombs, that the Church of to-day is exactly the same as in the time of her Divine Founder? We stood where the body of St. Cecilia had been laid. The pagan rulers desired to dese- crate the tombs of the martyrs, so the early Chris- tians often filled them up to conceal them; and here St. Cecilia was found in the beginning of the ninth century. The fresco of vSt. Peter baptizing is fre- quent, and everywhere the fish, symbolizing Christ Himself, and bread, the Holy Eucharist. Again, a mother and child in arms, the Blessed Virgin and the Divine Infant; Jonah and the whale, typifying our Lord lying in the grave three days; the raising of Lazarus, the dove, and a prayer for rest and peace. Our guide took our rosaries and pressed them into a little place where the blood of a martyr had been in a vial, as their tombs were always thus marked. As we emerged in the open air we noted a storm ap- Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 249 proaching, and hurried to shelter, and while waiting for the wind and rain to sn1:)side, added some me- mentoes of our visit to our very interesting lot of souvenirs. Farther on. above us on the hill, stood an im- mense round structure, the tonib of a noble, virtuous matron. Cecilia ^letella, the wife of the triumvirate, Licinus Crassus, who fell in battle fifty-three years before Christ. Of this Byron wrote: " There is a stern round tower of other days, Firm as a fortress with its fence of stone. What was this tower of strength! Within its cave What treasure lay so locked? A woman's grave. I know not why, but standing thus by thee It seems as if I had thine inmate known. Thou tomb, and other days come back to me With recollected music." Rettn-ning. we sto]:ipcd at the Chiu-ch of San Sebastian, in honor of the young soldier, who. under Diocletian, won the palm of mar^-trdom by being shot with arrows. Being left for dead, his body was borne to the Imusc of a Christian, who revived him. and again he a])pearcd to the t}'rant, who ordered him to be clubbed to death and casl into the great sewer. A charitable womau beheld him in a vision and recovered his brxly. which was regarded as a sacred trust, and over his tomb the lirst Christian 250 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Emperor, Constantine, erected a basilica. To those who have read the beautiful stories of those days the Campagna will present great interest. Sometimes an innocent youth would be selected to carry the Holy Eucharist, unsuspected, to the fugitive clergy for the sick or dying, in order to escape the fierce persecu- tions, and in the catacombs rested the ashes of at least one young, faithful messenger; suspected, but dumb to the questioners, he suffered death rather than betray his Sacred Treasure. Pope Damasus wrote his epitaph, which, being translated, reads: '' Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne, The niob profanely bade him to display. He rather gave iiis own limbs to be torn, Than Christ's celestial to mad dogs betray." In Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola such scenes are depicted. The tomb of Seneca is on the Appian Way, and here also stood the villa in which he sui- cided. So we turn to the city wrapt in dreams of what we have witnessed and dazed with the beauty of the scene. The Alban and Sabine hills in the background, the line of the sea afar off, the mists, piu'ple and gold, over the Campagna — "the moon is up, but yet it is not night; sunset divides the sky with her." The soft tinkle of a bell occasionally, the peasants returning to their homes from labor in Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 251 their picturesque costumes — all is like a dream we do not wish to speak. Another day we go out to visit St. Paul's outside the Walls, and the "Three Fountains." On the road to the basilica is a chapel marking the separation of Saints Peter and Paul, when the latter addressed St. Peter: " Peace be with thee, foundation of the church and shepherd of all the lambs of Jesus Christ." At the Three Fountains is shown the pillar on which St. Paul was beheaded. His head bounded three times, and on each spot a fountain sprung up. Over each fountain stands an altar bearing the head in relief. Here on the 29th of June, in the year 66, St. Paul " l)ore his testiuKju}- and grasped his crown." His body lies beneath the altar of St. Paul's outside the Walls, a most magnificent and modern appearing church, although the foundation dates back to Con- stantine. It was burned, and restored in its present a]:)pearance. A miraculous crucifix is here, and here St. Ignatius Loyola and his disciples received the Order of the Jesuits in 1541. Above the cohunns are mosaic portraits of every Pope, from St. Peter to the present TvCO XHI. During our visit the English pilgrimage was also here in ]M-ocession. and as they approached the High .Altar and stood to intone the Credo, the walls gave back the echoes in tones that thrilled the Christian heart, llcre, over eighteen 252 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. hundred years ago, the martyred Paul was laid, and now, after the lapse of centuries, come people from every clime to bear testimony to the very same doc- trines taught by their Divine Master. No change — the Church is immutable! So great has been the veneration for this spot that when the fire of 1823 demolished the first buildings, foreign rulers, both Christian and otherwise, sent offerings to rebuild it. The Pasha of Egypt gave four columns of Oriental alabaster; the Emperor Nicholas of Russia sent pre- cious malachite. Constantine's first care was to pro- vide for the tombs of the apostles, and with his own hands always broke the first ground. About the church of the Three Fountains the eucalyptus trees grow thickly, and are all along the Campagna. Much has been redeemed of this great plain by reason of planting by the monks of these malaria killing trees. The leaves are long and slender, and much used in preparation of medicines and germ-destroying prep- arations. " Santa Croce in Jerusalem " contains pre- cious relics of the Passion of our Lord. It was founded by St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, who brought from the Holy Land a part of the true cross, one of the nails, two of the thorns, and the title which the Jews placed over our Savior's head. We have, meanwhile, made daily visits to St. Peter's, and been privileged to attend confession Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 253 and recei\'e Holy Communion, hoping to obtain the Jiil)ik'c indulgence. Now we go, kneeling, in at the ■' Golden Door," and at each side stands a priest with extended rod, which we kiss as an act of humility. Only those who have visited St. Peter's can form an idea of the emotion that possesses one on entering tlii> ])lace. Ap])roaching it through the great piazza, or s(|uare, \vc note on each side the grand colonnades, each containing four rows of columns forty-eight feet high, which a pious writer describes as seeming "like the arms of Holy Mother Church opening to receive her children, coming to her from all lands, while the fountains seem to welcome them." Over the door is St. Peter kneeling at the feet of our Savior, who raises him fiTjm sinking in the water, when attempting to walk t(j meet his Master. Michael Angelo's " Pieta " touches the heart, as we see the Blessed Virgin witli her dead Son on her knees, a fitting introduction to the greatest Christian sanctuary in the world. Fyifting the padded leathern curtain, we noted a slab of red porphyry, on which the Christian emperors were crowned. Marion Craw- ford thus describes the entrance to the church: " The heavy leathern curtain falls hj- its own weipht, and the air is suddenly changed. A hushed, half rhythmic sound as of a world breathing in its sleep makes the silence alive. There is a blue and hazy atmospheric distance up in the cupola, a 2 54 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. twelfth of a mile above the pavement. The Church is, in a manner, one of Time's great milestones. Its mere name asso- ciates it forever with the existence of Christianity from the earliest time." Straight up the main aisle we go to the tomb of the first of the apostles, the one to whom the Divine Founder of our Faith committed His Church. "Lovest thou Me? Feed My sheep, feed My lambs." Above the High Altar, around the dome, in letters six feet in length, are the words of our Savior, "Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build My Church." In the aisle is a statue of St. Peter, sitting, and hold- ing in his hand the keys, and, like all Catholics, we paused to kiss the foot worn by the touch of thou- sands. There are many tombs of the Popes, each a gem of art. That of St. Peter is beneath the High Altar, and here nearly a hundred lamps are kept burn- ing. At the altar Mass is read only by the Pope. This grand altar, under the grandest of domes, is a monument as nearly worthy its object as human skill, enthused by deepest piety, could produce. Presump- tuous indeed would be the pen that would attempt a description of this shrine, to do it justice. Christian Reid beautifully says: " Here burn the golden lamps like faithful hearts, and cluster the most glorious memories as well as the most sacred tradi- tions of failh. To this basilica, founded by Constantine, came pilgrims from the then uttermost parts of the earth. Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 255 " There came the proud emperors of the East, Theodosius and Valentinian; there came Cedwalla, fair-haired King of the West Saxons, praying for baptism; there came Ina of Wessex, and Carloman of France, and many another royal pilgrim, until the greatest of all, Charlemagne, knelt to be crowned by Christ's Vicar. And there, in ihe last year ol the reign of Leo IV., Ethehvolf, King of the Anglo-Saxons, came also to be crowned, having with him his son of six years, a child who carried from the Apostle's tomb grace to make him blessed in his land, as Alfred of England." The mosaics are really dreams. On some of them twenty years of labor were consumed, being copies of the best masters in painting, the tiny bits of glass, with their exquisite colorings, reproducing the paint- er's art. Great and wonderful St. Peter's! And we saw it under such favorable auspices, in the Holy Year, when people of every clime on earth came to pay honors, called by the silvery trumpets echoing the voice of him who is the successor of Peter, who was the successor of Jesus Christ. We go yet to visit where St. Peter was crucified, " San Pietro in Montorio." Passing through the chapel of St. Francis, containing the tomb of Beat- rice Cenci and two Irish Catholics banished by Eliz- abeth, Plugh O'Neill and the Earl of Tyrconnel, we enter a court containing a sm;ill icniplc, supported on columns. There is a statue of the saint, and in the center of the floor an opening, over which a lamp is 256 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. suspended, by which we could see the golden sand in which was planted the cross on which, by Nero's orders, St. Peter suffered, head downward. The cus- todian dipped up some of the sand and gave us a Httle. Emerging again in the open air, we paused to enjoy the view. The whole city lay before us, and we noted the places we had visited, and had pointed out to us many of which we had not time to visit, among them the Church of Ara Coeli, where an an- cient sybil had prophesied, "A Virgin should be a mother," and where the tomb of St. Helena is; San Andrea del Fratte, where the Jew Ratisbonne was miraculously converted and became a priest, and hun- dreds of others, to visit which and learn of their his- tories would require months of study. From here we see again the Pyramid of Cestius, behind which is the beautiful English cemetery, where lie William and "gentle Mary Howitt," who became a CathoHc. Of this cemetery Shelley wrote, on the occasion of Keats' death: "It might make one in love with death to be buried in so sweet a place." Poor Keats, sen- sitive, sad and invalid, once wrote: " I could lie down like a tired child and weep away the life of care which I have borne, and yet must bear till death, like sleep, might steal on me." Dying of a broken heart at twenty-five, he requested that his epitaph read: "Here lies one whose name was writ in water." Not Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 257 long after his death Shelley, who had gone to wel- come his friend Leigh Hunt to Italy, was drowned, and when his body was recovered, a volume of Keats was found in his pocket. He was cremated, his heart placed here by Lord Byron, who inscribed on his tomb: " Cor Cordium — heart of hearts." At the Church of St. Agatha, in the Irish College, is preserved the heart of O'Connell. Although com- ing to Rome as tourists, we endeavored to obey the injunction laid on pilgrims to visit the four great Basilicas. This should properly be done on foot, but we may not be able to do this, so we drive from one to another. First to St. Mary Maggiore. Tradi- tion says this place was designated as a shrine to the Blessed Virgin 1)y a fall of snow on the 5th of August. Among the precious relics is the true crib in which our Savior lay in Bethlehem, recovered in the Holy Land by St. Helena, who encased it in silver. In 624, to escape Mohammedan rage, it was brought to Rome and deposited here, where it has since been, covered with magnificent casing by two noble ladies. It is exposed for veneration on Christmas Eve. The mosaics here are very rich. Tlie arch over the High Altar commemorates the decision of the Council of Ephesus in 431, declaring Mary to be the Mother of God, and the other mosaics represent the honors due her as such. This churcli should be of sfreat interest 25S Memories of a Red-Letter Siiunner. and very dear to Americans for the reason I shall name. The first gold which Columbus received in the new land of his discovery was duly given to Fer- dinand and Isabella, who in turn gave it to Pope Alexander VI. This he had beaten into thinnest leaf, and covered with it the entire ceihng of St. Mary Maggiore. Contemplating the beautiful paintings of the Madonna, I am reminded of many of the tributes that Protestants have paid to her, Avhose name causes the pious heart to thrill with joy. Hawthorne, whose daughter and her husband, years after, became Cath- olics, makes Hilda say: "A Christian girl, even a daughter of the Puritans, may surely pa}^ honor to the idea of divine Womanhood." Personally he says: " I have always envied the Catholics their faith in that sweet Virgin Mother, who stands between them and the Deity, intercepting something of His awful splen- dor, but permitting Plis love to stream upon the wor- shiper more intelligently to human comprehension through the medium of a woman's tenderness." Ruskin said: "There has not, probably, been an innocent cottage home throughout the length and breadth of Europe, during the whole period of Christianity, in which the imaged presence of the Madonna has not given sanctity to the humblest duties and sorest trials of woman; and every bright- Rome — 77?t' Catacowbs — Leo XIII. 259 est and loftiest achievement of tlie arts and strength of manhood has been the fnlfiHment of the assured prophecy of the Israehte Maiden: ' He that is mighty has magnified me. and holy is His Name.' " Some years ago Viscoimt Halifax, defending rit- ualistic practice in the Church of England, said: " Shall we allow the figures of our Lord on the Cross and His blessed Mother to be torn down from above the altar of St. Paul's? We rejoiced when the Dean and Canons had placed them there, that as we look on One, we may think on all He has done for us, and as we look at the figure of God's dear Mother, we may recall her who is crowned with all glory and honor, and ^^■ho alone of all God's creatures has dared to say, 'From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.' " Lord Byron wrote: "Ave Maria! blessed be the hour, The time, the chme. the spot where I so oft Have felt that nioment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft! While swuug: the deep bell in the distant tower, Or the faint, dyinj? day hymn stole aloft. And not a breatli crrpt thron;.,di the rosy air. And yet the forest leaves seemed stirred witli prayer. Ave Maria! 'tis the hour of prayer! Ave Maria! 'tis tlie lionr of love! Ave Maria! may our spirits dare Look up to thine and to thy Son above! " 26o Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Longfellow, writing of Italy, says: "This is, indeed, the blessed Mary's land, Virgin and Mother of our dear Redeemer! All hearts are touched and softened at her name; Alike the bandit with the blood-stained hand. The priest, the prince, the scholar and the peasant, The man of deeds, the visionary dreamer, Pay homage to her as one ever present. And even as children who have much oflfended A too indulgent father, in great shame, Penitent, and yet. not daring unattended To go into his presence, at the gate Speak with their sister, and confiding wait Till she goes in before and intercedes." One verse from the beautiful poem of Sir Walter Scott: "Ave Maria! Maiden mild! Listen to a maiden's prayer. Thou canst hear, though from the wild, Thou canst save amid despair. Safe we sleep beneath thy care — Though banished, outcast and reviled — Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; Mother! hear a suppliant child! Ave Maria! " These are but a few of the many such from hearts that instinctively feel the need of that divine Mother love, groping with outstretched hand, like children in the dark, crying, "Mother, Mother!" Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 261 From here we proceed to Scala Santa, the holy stairs from Pilate's house in Jerusalem, brought by St. Helena to Rome. Up these our Blessed Savior toiled, and His blood sanctified them. They are pro- tected by a l)oard covering, and up here Catholics, or persons who revere holy things, ascend on their knees with prayers. We embraced the sacred privi- lege with emotions impossible to be described. St. John Lateran, the Cathedral Church of Rome, l)ears on its front the inscription, " The mother and head of all the churches." The name Lateran comes from the early owner of the land. Senator Plautius Lateranus. Opposing Nero, he was put to death, his estate seized, and when Diocletian ascended the throne, he gave this to his daughter Fausta, the wife o( Constantine. Out of gratitude for his cure of lep- rosy and his conversion to Christianity, Constantine broke the ground with his own hands, and here erected a basilica. The statues were of solid silver, the sacred vessels of gold, with precious stones. Karthquake and fire injured it to such an extent that in 1362 Urban V. restored it as it now stands. The mosaics are priceless; one alone was repaired by order of tlic Iloly Father at the cost of a million. Here might be cause for remark among those not of our conununion. as in earh' davs. "this mifjht ha\'e been 262 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. given to the poor" ; but they do not understand that we desire ever to have a temple worthy of the Sacred Presence, which ever abides in the Catholic Church, and to such work have pious men and women de- voted their talents, genius, time and treasure, pouring out love and labor hke Magdalen's precious ointment. At St. Onofrio's Monastery, where he died, are preserved mementoes of the Christian poet, Tasso, author of " Jerusalem Delivered." Called to receive the laurel crown by Pope Clement VIII., he died be- fore the time for the ceremony, fortified by the con- soling Sacraments. His last words were: " Into Thy hands, O Lord." Recognizing his approaching dis- solution, he said: "Behold, the laurel crown I was to receive has been changed to a better one in heaven." On the three hundredth anniversary of his death, which occurred in April, 1595, literary men all over the world joined in spirit as well as act with the cele- bration in Rome in his honor. A scrap from a paper six years old I have just read on this event. One verse from his immortal work is exquisite; I almost hold my breath in reading it. It is this: " 'Tis eve; 'tis night; a holy quiet broods O'er the mute world; — winds, waters are at peace; The beasts lie crouched, amid unstirring woods, The fishes slumber in the sounds and seas; No twittering bird sings farewell from the trees. Rome — Tlic Catacombs — Leo XII I. 263 Hushed is the dragon's cry, the Hon's roar; Beneath her gloom, a glad oblivion frees The heart from care, its weary labors o'er, Carrying divine repose and sweetness to its core." In the Sistine Chapel we note the " Last Judg- ment,"" the famed picture which Michael Angelo was eight years in painting. The work is magnificent, and by the aid of opera glasses we studied the ceil- ings. So on through the galleries, with their bewil- dering array of art, crowned by the " Transfigura- tion " of Raphael. Like many other seizures of Napoleon, it was returned to Rome after his downfall. The audience set by the Holy Father for the Eng- lish pilgrims is close at hand, and we desire admit- tance to the presence of Leo XIIL, the venerable Pontiff, whose great age and increasing infirmities make it ever more difficult to see him. But our visit to Rome would be crowned by the sight of the visible head of the Church; so we go to the American Col- lege to present oiu' letter of introduction, hoping not only to meet the honorable President, but to obtain cards of admission to the audience; but, alas! we only learn that he is out of the city and the time of his return uncertain. Our flisappointment is great, but we ])ray earnestly tliat some way may l)c found, and in this faith we look over otu" baggage for a proper costume. 'iMic days are passing, and as we see othoi's 264 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. with all arrangements made, we scarcely feel that envy in such a case would be wrong, for it might be called a holy envy; but, all unknown to us, friends had arisen around us, and, unsolicited by us, appli- cations had been made in different directions, induced by compassion for the American ladies. So, only thirty minutes before the appointed hour, behold, tickets! Seldom have ladies made so hasty and so complete toilets for so rare an occasion. The car- riage we had ordered for a drive to another place served for this, and honored by the escort of a certain Monsignore, whose acquaintance we were so fortu- nate as to have made, we happily started to join the throng of English-speaking pilgrims. Through the curious streets, across the vellow Tiber, by the Castle of St. Angelo, we proceed up to the right colonnade approaching the Vatican. Alighting and passing in the entrance, up the long stairs and hall, and stairs again, the Scala Regia; the Swiss guards, in their pic- turesque costumes designed by Michael Angelo, rec- ognizing the purple silk robes of our escort and salut- ing him, we at last reach seats and rest, while enjoy- ing the sight, quite comfortable in the reflection that our own trailing black, with lace mantilla, is quite elegant and correct after such hasty preparation. To our American eyes all was very strange. The black. Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 265 red. purple and lace-robed clergy, the different Orders in white or brown rol)es, the Babel of tongues — all combined to engage our attention during the wait for the arrival of His Holiness. Presently, from our position near the High Altar, we note, far down the church, a stir among the crowd. Every eye is ex- pectant! \- turned; a hum of voices rises into a roar: "Viva il Papa! \'iva il Papa!" The cry is taken up around us, and we see advancing a frail figure clothed in snowy white, borne on a throne, and sur- rounded by guards. The dark, speaking eyes, the true windows of the soul, seem starry bright; the emaciated form, crowned with silvery hair, is slowly borne, swaying, through the crowd, dispensing bene- dictions, and at last the chair is lowered to the ground in front of the altar, and the venerable Pontiff slowly rises and kneels on the steps for a short time, while the thousands of \oices take up the familiar hymns for the occasion. The sight was tear-compelling. Here at last we have the extreme privilege of seeing the Holy I'ather, the Vicar of Christ, the grandest character on earth, Leo XHI. — "Lumen in Coelo." Aged, feeble, his rights usurped, his very liberty re- strained, from the ends of the earth come loyal hearts to do him iKjmage. At length he rises and feebly ascends the altar steps, and turning, bestows the (12) 266 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Benediction, which falls on all hearts with soothing balm. Kneeling thus at the tomb of Peter, in the Jubilee year, we feel that we have indeed been blessed. Fifteen thousand pilgrims were thus received, and as Leo XIII. re-ascended his throne and was borne away, the cheers again rose, mingled with singing, and hats and handkerchiefs were frantically waved. One sturdy Briton by my side, with tears on his rugged face, seemed possessed of Stentor's voice, and in spite of my own enthusiasm, I was reheved when he carried his " Vivas " after the crowd which followed the receding form of him who should bear the title of " King of Rome." It belongs to him by right of conquest of this part of the country, and its gift to the Church by Pepin le Bref in 755, and con- firmed by Charlemagne. Recalling the words of Pope Gregory VII.: " I have loved justice and hated iniquity, therefore I die in exile," — Leo XIII. once wrote : " I have loved justice, therefore have I borne Conflict and labor, plot and biting scorn. Guardian of Faith, for Christ's dear sake would I Suffer with gladness and in prison die." Our visit to Rome was crowned by this day, and we sigh at the thought of leaving, but we expect to first visit the charmed fountain of Trevi, to drink the waters which " insure us to come again." Terribly Rome — TJic Catacombs — Leo XIII. 267 fascinating" are the records of ancient Rome. What now avail the kixuries, fame and glory of the pagan emperors! Each of their rulings seemed more op- pressive than the last; their names were synonymous with cruelty or drunken folly, as witness Caligula bestowing" on his horse the title of Consul. In their vainglory they thought to suppress the new creed, knowing not that the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the Church: little thinking that in eighteen hundred years from all over the world would flock the hated Christians to reverence the successor of Peter, whose followers were once hunted through the Catacom1:)S. To-day rises, fair and prosperous, a college for instruction by a people from the then undreamed of Western world. Proud are we to be represented here! An American institute blossoming among the ruins of the dead past! Here may our youth l)e trained in the atmosphere of the early Church, the seeds of learning sown here to grow and blossom and bear fruit worthx" of the ])lanting in far away America, or wherever the voice of the Church may call the young Levite. Commenting on the contrast between pagan and Christian Rome, Cardinal Manning once wrote: "And now the Vicar of the Prince of Peace holds here his court. ruid offers, over the toml) of the apostle, the 268 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. unbloody sacrifice of our Redemption. The legions of Rome have given way before a people who have never lifted a hand in war. They have taken the city of the Caesars, and hold it to this day. ' This is the victory which overcometh the world, our Faith.' The noblest spectacle on earth is an unarmed man. whom all the world can not bend, by fear or favor. Such a man is, essentially, above all worldly powers, and such, eminent among the inflexible, is he, the Pontiff." Cardinal Newman wrote: " I bear my testimony to what has been brought home to me, as a matter of fact, since I have been a Catholic: the Church would rather save the soul of one single bandit of Calabria or whining beggar of Palermo than draw a hundred lines of railroad. She has her mission, and to do it she will, whether she be in rags or fine linen. She is sent to seek the lost, and she will fulfill it. The Church aims not at making a show, but doing a work." A gifted young writer has paid this tribute to the Church. Referring to the early days of Christianity, he says: " She took her uncouth, barbarous enemy and molded him into the Christian man; of the haughty Gallo, blood-thirsty and revengeful, she made the mild and gentle saint, and by a superhuman power she changed the pagan Clovis into the Chris- Rome — The Catacombs — Leo XIII. 269 tian King of a Christian people. Touched b}- the Baxen-haired youth, she sent lier teachers to the far- off Angles, and those that had come to concjuer car- ried back the spirit of peace. With the hands of toil she again sowed the wasted fields, and here and there stored up the relics of antiquity, and transcribed the olden writings for future generations. \\'here war and rapine and desolation had reigned supreme, there sprang forth the blossom of Christian nations." This was written while commenting on the sub- lime spectacle of the Roman Pontiff, old and feeble, coming to the gates of Ronie bearing only in his hands the cross, to meet the fierce Attila, who proudly boasted he was the " scourge of God and the grass ne\'er grew ^^■here his horse had once set foot." Ac- companied by one hundred and fifty thousand grim warriors, with champing war-horses, glinting spears and clanking' shields, impatient for booty, at the sight of Christ's Vicar. Attila and his barbarian horde turned back, and Rome was saved. But now the time has come for us to continue our journe}-, and I can no better define my own emotions on leaving Rome than by quoting the following from Crawford, whose writings ha\-e dealt so much with the Eternal City: " Let us part here at the- tlircsliold of St. Peter's, not say- ing farewell to Rome, nor taking leave without hoping to meet 270 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. on this consecrated ground again; but since the city lies behind us, region beyond region; memory over memory, legend within legend; and because we have passed through it by steps and by stations, very quickly, yet not thoughtlessly nor irreverently, let us now go, each our way for a time, remembering some of these things, that we may know them better if we meet again. For a man can no more say a last farewell to Rome than he can take leave of eternity. The years move on, but she waits; the cities fall, but she stands; the old races of men lie dead in the track wherein mankind wanders always between two darknesses; yet Rome lives, and her changes are not from life to death as ours are, but from one lite to another. A man may live with Rome, laugh with her, dream with her, weep 'with her, die at her feet; but for him. who knows her, there is no good-bye, for she has taken the high seat of his heart and whither he goes, she is with him, in joy or sorrow, with wonder, longing or regret, as the chords of his heart were tuned by his angel in heaven." A sad incident occurred one day during our stay at the Minerva Hotel. A gentleman who was con- nected with the English pilgrimage, many of whom were stopping here, had just passed out of the dining- room, and stopped at the office desk to direct a postal-card. Without warning he fell to the floor and expired. The crowd who were passing through dropped to their knees, while a priest and physician hastened to him. He was past human aid, and the rites for the dying were hastily administered, while strangers knelt around him in prayers and tears. CHAPTER XV. NAPLES— VESUVIUS — CAPRI— THE BLUE GROTTO- POMPEII — CUSTOMS OF PEOPLE — RETURN THROUGH ST. GOTHARD TUNNEL — PISA — ^[ILAN — TO GERMANY — LAST DAYS ON THE CONTINENT — SAILING — CAPTAIN'S DINNER — FARE- WELL— HOME. Leaving Rome, we reached Naples at half-past one in the afternoon, and found good quarters at the Hotel \'esu\-e. Here we were right on the water, with the x'olcano in front of us. We took much in- terest in watclu'ng the cone, which, \'ery quiet now. occasionally sent u]) a ])uff of steamy looking smoke. We drove out tlirough the classic grounds, conscious of the enchantment which tra\'elers here must feel. " See Naples and die "" wculd he more to otu' liking if it read, "See Naples and live," to enjoy dail}' more of the loN'cly ha\- and surroundings. It seemed easy to transpf)rt (Mie's seh to ancient days, w hen this vicin- ity was the resort of the pleasure-seeking Romans. ^Memories of Nero, C'aHgula, Tiberius and other ty- lauts arc plentiful. IJai.'c was a resort so beautiful that it was regarded a I'ai-adisc. while near by, in the Grotto of I\)silipo. where is the tomb of \'irgil, was 272 Memories of a Red-l,etter Summer. the hell of the poets, the Lake Avernus, the grotto of the Sybils, where ^neas offered sacrifice. Mytho- logical students are here at home. Virgil, Cicero and Pliny hved and wrote here, and the tomb of Agrippa and the villa of Lticullus, or ruins, are shown. It Avould be impossible, in this space, to enumerate the places of interest in this vicinity, connected also with Christian associations of Saints Paul and Januarius and others. I have taken my New Testament and read, with a heretofore unknown interest, the Acts of the Apostles and St. Paul's Epistles. Our Savior had adjured St. Paul: " Be constant. As thou hast testi- fied of Me in Jerusalem, so must thou bear witness also at Rome." Later, brought before King Agrippa and permitted to speak, Paul, claiming the rights of a Roman citizen, said: "1 appeal to Caesar." His eloquence caused Agrippa to say: "Almost thou per- suadest me." Shipped to Rome, he was wrecked on the island of Melita, and for three months testifie(^ of Christ to the inhabitants and healed the sick. Con- tinuing to Rome, the brethren met him at the Appii Forum. He lived two years in his own " hired house," preaching the kingdom of God and teaching the things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ." In his Epistle to Timothy his words read like a familiar home letter: " Take Mark and bring him with thee; for he is profitable to me in the ministry." Naples — J'csui'ius — Poii'pcii — Sf. Gothard. 273 A dri\-e around the l^eantifiil horseshoe Bay of Naples, with its waters as ])liie as the sky. making it sometimes a little doubtful where sky and AX'ater meet, took us through much of sc[ualor and deepest pov- erty, but withal we saw not, in all our sojourn in Italy, the land of the vine, one intoxicated person. 1mt picturesque even in their rags. The little Bam- binos looked like the pappooses of the Indians, and the little nurses carried them around, firmly bound in their wrapjMngs like bun.dles, while the bal:)ies, placid-eyed, surveyed their surroundings, as though sensible a protest would be useless. I thought of our own happy, kicking, crowing little ones beyond the sea, and longed to strip the bandages and turn the little feet loose. When they are large enough to be allowed the use of their feet, they are held in leading strings; and I wondered if this faulty system of dress- ing were not accountable for the many incidents of dwarf legs on large bodies. The little fellows seem born singing, and the clear voices ringing out oper- atic airs seemed to us rather precocious. Nature is kind indeed to her children here. The soft climate, fertile soil, waters teeming with luscious fish, beauty all around them, make their nature poetic and gentle. Poor Italy! Groaning under taxes which rea(di to the humblest, poorest arlicle. no womlcr her chil- dren look beyond the sea for hope for e\en life itself! 274 Memories of a Red-Letter Simiwier. In Naples we saw the misery of the people demon- strated more than anywhere else. The Lazzaroni have been regarded curiously, but on the authority of a native Italian clergyman, connected with his- torical societies in our own country, I will state that this class are the lower, called Lazzaroni from their patron saint, Lazarus. They work, have houses and families, and are contented. When they have enough to eat and drink and a few cents to spare to see a Punchinello, they seem happier than many who are burdened with money. The devotion of the Neapol- itans to St. Januarius is very great. It is here that the miraculous liquefaction of his blood takes place, a fact indisputably proven. When Vesuvius threat- ens, the relics of the saint ire carried in procession to implore his aid. Near by is the beautiful island of Ischia, which has suffered so much from volcanic eruptions. Soon after the terrible scenes of 1883 I met a young naval lieutenant, whose duties had called him to these waters at that time. He had been of that broad re- ligion which gives no special thought to eternity, but the thrilling scenes then and there, and the untiring devotion of the noble Sisters of Charity and the clergy in caring for the sufferers, awoke his admira- tion, and he reverted to it so frequently that the im- Naples — Vcsui'ius — Pompeii — St. Gofhard. 275 pressions on his mind led him to inquire into and embrace the Faith which prompted and supported such heroism. Capri Hes across the Bay, and on the first calm day we boarded the little steamer which bears the tourist to the beautiful Grotto and its historic shores. Wdiere can one find a sheet of water more beautiful than the blue \^esuvian Bay! We enjoyed to the utmost the trip across, and were amused at the per- tinacity of the venders of corals, cameos and other pretty trifles. They accepted generally the price of- fered them, often as a joke, ridiculously low, so that parties were often made owners of what they cared little for. The minstrels, who are everywhere, also accompanied us on board. We regretted that two, with jjarticularly fine voices and dramatic gestures, could not come to our own country to reap the golden harx'est which often falls to those of less abilit}-. .\s we sailed out in tiie Bay, one turned with feeling attitude tu his listeners, and then alternately wax'ing his hamlkerchicf to the shores and j^ressing it to his eyes, sang "Adieu to Naples" — " Addio bella Napnli." Another fa\"oritc song was theirs, but to hear it at its licst il must he sung b\- them with the accomi)aninK'ut of mandolin, guitar and \-iolin. The chorus runs: 276 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. a^^. 4(iyU^^^^— /ha^ '^ iLtA^t a, Sa£t^- ri - -^^ ,^>ta^.9a.- -^ * i V \\\ > '^ \\''' \ y Tl-f 'I I 'I y ' ^ ^/ 6LiI>d'tfaJhblaMi^^f^ « ^^^' -r-iji ^e=^ 'u u ^ * A s. ^ i ^^ ^s V The trip to the Bkie Grotto may be made only when the sea is cahii, as the entrance under the rocks is so small. Parties have sometimes, after reaching there, been detained by the waves. Arriving at the neighborhood of the Grotto, our little steamer was anchored, and we were at once surrounded by small boats. Only two persons besides the oarsman were > Naples — Vcsiiz'ins — Pompeii — St. Gofhard. 277 liennitted to occupy one l)oal, so F. and G. went in one l)oat and 1 in another. Arri\'ing at the entrance, we were bidden to lie down in the boats, and even the oar-locks were removed. A chain is attached to the rocks, which the l)oatman grasps, watches the waves, and in a moment he is hfted into the cave. \\'liat a fair)- land! The atmosphere and water were a sih'cry blue. — the walls, the gently dipping oars — all are an indescribable, heavenly blue. Tibe- rius is said to have had a secret entrance from a1)ove during his residence on the island, where he retired and built twelve palaces, living in the greatest lux- ury and wickedness. This monster's life is known to every one familiar with Roman history. The great precipice at one end of the island is where he cast his tortured victims into the sea. Emerging from the fairy grotto, we boarded our little vessel, returned to the landing, and soon we were driving up the steep road to the hotel, where our lunch was set out on the veranda, in view of the water, and our little steamer was anchored bclnw us. While enjoying the scene and an ap])etizing meal, our minstrels came up to us, and sang and played for our entertainment. " Tro- vatore " seems a favoril'-. with " Margari " for a change. Then lhe\- ]ila\cd " My Country, 'tis of Thee," and I dismis^cfl thrm. fur we did nni want to be made homesick. The lunch was followed bv a 278 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. drive away up on the top of the rocks, where the scenery was most beautiful, and we reaHzed Bayard Taylor's lines: " Far, vague and dim the mountains swim, While on Vesuvius' misty brim, With outstretched hands the gray smoke stands, O'erlooking the volcanic lands. There Ischia smiles o'er liquid miles, And yonder, bluest of the Isles, Calm Capri waits, her sapphire gates Beguiling to her bright estates." Now we descend to the shore and board our boat, and while waiting for the passengers to assemble, watch the gambols of the boys in the water. Call- ing our attention with a few words of English, " Sig- nora bella, money, money; that's all right!" we throw some change to them. They go down like fish diving for it, and come up with it between their toes, whence it is quickly transferred to the mouth, and " More money, Signora bella." The boys take to the water like ducks, and their antics are very amusing. The shores are lined with little boats and fishing smacks and net menders, making a very picturesque scene. As the shore recedes and we turn towards Naples, we see clififs crowned with forts and castles — Castellamarre especially remarked, standing on a promontory. We must not stop now, for the white- caps are beginning to appear on the waves, and we Naples — J'csiii'iiis — Po}iipcii — St. Gothard. 279 keep to our boat till we are landed again at the quay. A night's rest prepared us for a trip to Pompeii, through at first a pretty drive, and presently into a long street, where everybody seemed living on tlie sidewalks, and away out into the country-like road along the bay. What much attracted us was the manufacture of macaroni. It was hanging on poles to dr}- in the open air, looking like long rows of yellow bead curtains. I v/ondered if the festive mi- crobes, bacteria and all other germ-like things infest the air here, and if I shall ever again relish the tooth- some dish, after beholding these scenes. It seems in these countries, everything that is not served with tomatoes is flavored with chestnuts. These are very large, and served everywhere steaming hot. At last we reached Pompeii, and after lunch and rest, eagerly start out to visit the f)ld streets, now silent, which once resounded to the clatter of horses' feet and the roll of chariots, whose wheels left the ruts still marked. To our modern idea of space, bred by life in free America, where we may live without jog- ging our neighbors" elbows, this ancient style of al)ode seemed exceedingly cramped, for most of the streets are extremely narrow, having room but for one velii- clc; no yards or breathing space, even in the homes of the wealthy, save a little interior court. Still Pom- peiian life was luxurious, and we saw many evidences 28o Memories of a Red- Letter Summer. of it. One house, nearl)^ excavated and well pre- served, had been restored sufficiently to give the vis- itor a good idea of the plans. Much like a Mexican home was this, and flowers had been planted around the pool, and were the only sign of life in this dead city, over which Vesuvius still puffs her deadly smoke, like a crying child which has exhausted its rage and grief, and still sobs convulsively at the remembrance. The sea once came up to the city gate, the Porto della Marina, but since retired. The casts of many bodies are seen in the local museum. Plaster has been poured into the cavities discovered where animal life has been, thus the molds preserved. Particularly pathetic was the story of a soldier on duty, sternly braving the terrors of that terrible night of the year 79, when Vesuvius belched flame and ashes, and sur- prised the busy people of Pompeii in their occupa- tions and amusements. Bravely he stood amid that rain of fire, with obedience to his military duty, and now, nearly two thousand years later, the world ad- mires and praises him. Two poor prisoners were found confined in the stocks; the miser clutches his gold; the mother clasps her children; every human sentiment depicted. We saw loaves of bread from the ovens, grain, horses, dogs writhing in agony; rings, keys, lamps, jewelry and boxes, and tear bottles which were placed near cinerary urns. The great jars for A'Oplcs — VcsHZ'iiis — Po})if^cii — St. Gothard. 281 water or oil. perha])s. brought back the story of the forty thieves with AH Rabi, Mustapha, and Morgiana. Stately Minerva still stands guard, broken indeed, but powerless to save the city. The floors in the best houses were curious mosaics: in one place two thou- sand l)its were in a square foot. The Pompeiians had many customs of to-day. On some of the walls we noted what our guide told us were advertisements for the theater, or the announcements for the candi- dates' names for offices, and " Please vote for him — O. V. F." Some of the caricatures remind us of some of our own mischievous boys' pranks with a piece of chalk. The frescoes remained bright, representing cupids at work, or sporting amid flowers to music, showing their aptitude in figures and coloring. And the baths seemed quite modern, with their pipes for hot and cold water, steam rooms and swimming pools, all decorated and luxurious, and were meeting places for gossi]) and music. At the doors would be the saluta- tion, " Salve." At the door of the house of Glaucus, the flramatic poet, is a dog in mosaic and the Latin, " Beware of the dog." At the Temple of Isis, where the oracle was con- sulted, is exposed, after eighteen hundred years, the hiding ])lace of the heathen priest who sj:)okc. The Amphitheater is well i)reserved. and the various tcm- 282 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. pies to the .gods, roofless, all to the open sky. We pass along the deserted streets, swept and cared for now, and almost expect to see an old Pompeiian busy in his shop, so is the place peopled by ghosts of the dead and gone. At a street crossing is a well, the curb worn with the pressure of hands now dust, that once leaned on the stone while drinking or drawing the water. Great stepping-stones are at the cross- ings, between which wheels passed. It seems intru- sion to enter one of these homes and note the way of living. My lady's dressing table of stone still stands in many houses, and the pool in the center of the court marks where the shining waters reflected her charms. The altars, both public and private, gave insight into the pagan worship. The street of tombs was interesting. We passed silently through these records of the past and shuddered at the memory of that awful night. " Go, seek Pompeii now with pensive tread, Roam throitgh the silent city of the dead. E.^:plore each spot, where still, in ruin grand, Her shapeless piles a.nd towering columns stand, And muse in silence on a people's grave." A distinguished writer describes Pompeii as a miniature of the civilization of the age. " Within the narrow compass of its walls is contained a speci- men of every gift which luxury offered to power." I.v Old Pomikii. A^aples — Vesiivi'ts — Po)iipeii — St. Gothard. 283 Sallust, the tragic poet, Pansa, the aedile, Diomed, Glaucus, what familiar names! The house of Glaucus has had an iron gate placed in front, through which one may gaze, and we fancied the feasts at which these other worthies sat. Think of a dish of night- ingales' tongues! Naturally our minds turned to that terril)le night when Pompeii was destroyed; and at the Amphitheater we see. in fancy, the crowds of gaily dressed people, and the gladiators, with their light and springy step, boldly contending in the arena, and breathlessly await the coming of Glaucus, the Athenian, falsely accused, doomed to battle with the hungry lion, whose instinct warned him of the approaching convulsion of nature. Called by the cry of Arbaces, the Egyptian, to the sight of Vesuvius, above whose top the clouds of smoke and ashes assumed the appearance of a pine tree, as the earth shook and the fiery rain began to descend ui)on the city, so full of gay life, we turn to flee with the others. "To the sea! To the sea!" And behold blind Nydia leading Glaucus and his beloved lone to safety, guided by that inner sight the blind pos- sess, that sixth sense. And so both escaped; but the elder Pliny, commanding a fleet at anchor, ap- proached too near in his shij) to note the ])honom- enon, and was killed. The younger Pliny, intent on saving his mother, witnessed the scene, and wrote 284 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. thus: " By this time the murky darkness had in- creased so much that one might have believed him- self abroad in the black, moonless night, or in a cham- ber where all the lights have been extinguished. On every hand were heard the complaints of women, the wailing of children and the cries of men. One called his father, another his son, and another his wife. Only by their voices could they know each other. Many, in despair, begged that death would come and end their distress. Some implored the gods to suc- cor them, and some beheved that this night was the last, the eternal night, which should engulf the uni- verse. Even so it seemed to me, and I consoled myself for the coming death with the reflection, Behold, the world is passing away." Bulwer's romance graphically, but from imagina- tion, describes this scene, and I quote a few lines: "An old philosopher of the Stoic school, in long, loose robes, in the midst of a flying crowd, which had been arrested in despair and doubt, said: ' The world is to be destroyed by fire. Stoic and epicurean wis- dom have alike agreed in this prediction, and the hour is come!' ' Yes, the hour is come!' cried a loud voice, solemn but not fearful. Those around turned in dismay. The voice came from above them. It was that of Olinthus, the Christian, who, sur- Atopics — I'csu'c'ius — Fo»ipcii — St. Gothard. 285 rounded by friends, stood on an abrupt eminence on which was a ruined temple to Apollo. Then again came that sudden illumination, glowing over the mighty multitude, awed, crouching, breathless. Never on earth have the faces of men seemed so hag- gard; never had Ijeen meetings of mortal beings so stamped with the horror of sublimity and dread; never, till the last trumpet sounds, shall such meeting be seen again. And above all the form of Olinthus, with outstretched arms and prophet brow, girt with the living fires. And the crowds knew the face of him whom they had doomed to the fangs of the savage beast. Then their victim, now their warner. Through the stillness came his ominous voice, ' The hour is come!' " At last we turn from this most fascinating spot and return to our carriage, past a number of beggars exhibiting deformities, down a beautiful walk, ])luck- ing here and there a llower or leaf as a memento. The long ride to Naples carried us over the buried streets of Herculaneum. The excavations have not made much progress here, owing to the fact that this city suffered from lava floods, while Pompeii wa-^ buried under ashes, hot water and stones. lUilwer is authority for this, after inspecting the strata. In his stor\- ot tlu' Lust l\iys of I'onipcii he saws he has res- 286 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. urrected the skeleton of his characters as they were found, and reanimated them, to serve their httle time on the stage of the story-teller. Driving back to Naples, we are amused by the antics of little boys running beside us, turning cart- wheels, standing on their heads, going through gen- eral acrobatic exercises, and then hurrying along with grimy little paws extended for rewards. Here is to be seen the extended hand, a custom so annoying over the continent, although worse in Italy than anywhere else. Leaving a hotel, the head waiter brings your bill, in the payment of which you include a tip for him; the chambermaids stand con- veniently around, waiting their tip; one porter car- ries your baggage down to the hall, a tip; another takes it to the carriage, another tip; a boy or man opens the carriage door, a tip; a porter at the depot lands your luggage in your compartment, a tip; the drivers expect one, " buono mana," which in Ger- many is "Trink gelt," in France ''Pourboire," in Eng- land " Something for the driver, lady." Porters run to the arriving trains, and right welcome are they, for tourists go much with only hand baggage, which will accumulate, preferring to do Avith less amount of clothing than have to give so much personal atten- tion to heavy trunks en route. Only a few days may A'apies — VesuTius — Po)iipcii — St. Gothard. 287 be spent in Naples among the contrasting wealth and poverty, picturesque sights, beautiful things on which one must determinedly turn one's back, the enchant- ing scenery and associations. Often shall I feel, I am sure, that — " My soul, to-day, is far away. Sailing the Yesuvian Bay. With dreamful eyes my spirit lies TJnder the walls of Paradise." Now we turn back to the north, for our passage is engaged from Bremen; so we pass through Rome, taking the railway that conveys us through tunnel after tunnel, on one side of us the blue Mediterranean, on through Pisa with its Leaning Tower. Curious indeed is this, one hundred and eighty feet in height, fourteen feet inclined out of the perpendicular. In the grand Cathc(h-al is the lamp whose oscillations inspired Galileo's ideas of the pendulum. Here in the Campo Santo the graves are in earth brought from the Holy Land over six hundred years ago. And now on through Milan, with its matchless Cathedral, which a]s(j we must leave for that hoped- f(jr fiUure visit. 1 am toM that over the triple door- way are tlie inscrijjtions: " .Mi thnt which pleases i^ but for a moment. .\\\ that which troul-les us is but for a moment. That only is iuiportani which is eternal." 288 Memories of a Red-Letter Summer. Arriving at the entrance of St. Gothard's Tunnel, we apostrophize the Italy we are leaving in Byron's words : " Yet, Italy, though every other land Thy wr.mgs should ring, and shall, from side to side. Mother of Arts, as once of Arms, thy hand Was then our guardian and is still our guide, Parent of our religion, whom the wide Nations have knelt to for the keys of heaven. Europe, repentant of her parricide. Shall yet redeem thee, and all backward driven. Roll the barbarian tide and sue to be forgiven." Now we enter the wonderful tunnel through the Alps to Switzerland. What skill was required to engineer such work! It is nearly ten miles long, twenty-one feet high, twenty-six feet wide; was eight years in building, and cost eleven million dollars. Think of hundreds of men working on this great undertaking, thousands of feet beneath the ground, from opposite sides of the mountain, and meeting exactly. The memory of that trip will ever remain with us for comfort, which in European travel is not very common. Even in the tunnel proper there was not the usual stuffy, suffocating sensation, although we were nearly half an hour under ground. From one side to another our glances were directed while pass- ing through the mountains. It was a panorama of beauty, grandeur and sublimit5^ At last we reach Naples — Vcsiii'iiis — Pompeii — St. Gothard. 289 Lucerne, only to rest and spend Sunday, having been liere before. At any rate we have no time to spare, and it is not so inviting here in the last of October as when in midsummer we visited the lovely lake. Xow on again, through ancient Basle and along the Rhine, this time by rail, greeting ''hail and farewell" to the charming spots we had visited before. Soon Cologne is reached, and here we perfect the arrange- ments for home travel, pa}' tieeting visits to spots endeared, wind up our shopping trips, and bid fare- well to our trunks, for here the steamship company takes our baggage for Bremen and the steamer's hold. A loyal German curiosity was aroused by a whis- per that the two fine looking lads seated at the table next to ourselves at the Dom Hotel, and accom- panied by their governors, were the second and third sons of the Emperor. They were in Cologne, incog., attending a celebration in honor of Von Moltke. a fine statue of whom stands on a scpiare. I say nothing of the curiosity of the other guests, all, of course, politely half concealed; our own casual glances revealed a pair of manl\' looking boys in business suits, who strolled imconcernedly about the reading-ror)m, a])i)arcntly enj(jying their freedom as would an\- oihci' lads released from restraint. Now, a dav at liremen. with its cosmopolitan traits, its (13) 290 Memories of a Red-Letter Stmimer, funny street fair, its charming park and quaint church, and now a little more rail to Bremen Haven, and, behold, our good ship, like a friend from home, lying there awaiting us. So we mount her decks and hasten to our room, the same that we had on our voyage over; arrange our trappings in the familiar places, and secure the same seats at table. From the portly captain, in whose care we feel so safe, to the polite stewards, who remember us, and hasten to minister to our comfort, all seems homelike. Down through the North Sea to the coast of France our way was rough, but after a stop at Cherbourg and resumption of our trip, the waters calmed, and our voyage was most delightful. We touched at South- ampton, where we received a parcel and welcome letters from English friends. The passengers on a liner, shut up for a week in a little world of their own, become friends, and many a life's attachment has thus begun. The nights were beautiful; the full moon, bright above us, formed a shining path in our wake, and as I leaned over the guards and watched the golden way, I recalled every spot we had visited, and each happy remembrance seemed a silver milestone along the road, receding as we neared our native shores, to take up again the cares from which we had been for a while released. The nig-ht before our arrival was the usual " Captain's dinner," with its llAi'i'v Days o\ the Axi.amic. A'aplcs — I'cstiz'itis — Poiii/^cii — St. Gothard. 291 conipliincntary extras; the fairy-like iiiarch of the waiters anion^- the tables when the lain])s were extin- guished, and only the illnniinated castles of cakes and creams tiiey carried in ])rocessiun gave us light. And the hand played the " St.'ir Spangled Banner " and " Mail Columbia," for now we are in American waters. Keluniing to the deck, we found our side cleared for dancing, tarpauhiis fornn'ng a ])r()tection. flags of all nations draping the im])rom])tu ballroom. electric iigiits strung along, the band in possession, and happy feet danced away the last hours of our stay on the floating palace that for a week has been our hcjme. Although we feel regret at leaving it, the sentiment of gratitude overpowers us that we are once more at " Hame, where we fain would be," and only a few hours now separate us from the deai' ones we left behind us, foi- what has been to us indeed A l\C(l-Li'Ucr Suuiuicr. UUvAXok Cllll,l)S MlvKllAN. AUG lo 1903 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 020 666 703 5 ii i<