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Aalesund to Tetuan 
 
 A JOURNEY 
 
 CHARLES R. CORNING 
 
 ♦ 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 CUPPLES AND HURD 
 
 1888 
 

 Copyright : 
 
 By CHARLES R. CORNING, 
 
 i 888. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 Or CONGRESS 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 pfllNTED By ^ ~ 
 
 '<"- CONCORD, N. H 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Portsmouth and the Dockyards — The Victory — Isle of Wight — Chines — 
 Scenery — Alum Bay — Carisbrooke Castle — Southampton. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Channel Islands — Climate — Government — Customs — Guernsey — Coast 
 line — Water lanes — Jersey — St. Helier's — Drives — Land tenure — 
 Cows — Vegetation — Ancient churches. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Normandy — Granville — Fishwomen — Caen — St. Pierre — Tomb of Will- 
 iam the Conquerer — Trouville bathers — Rouen — The cathedral — 
 St. Ouen — Palais de Justice — A comfortable inn. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 On the Riviera — Nice — Its pleasures — Chateau Hill — The Old Monas- 
 tery — Cimies — Monte Carlo — Gambling — M. Blanc and his ivory 
 gods — Monaco — Prince Charles. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Genoa — Palaces and churches — Chapel of St. John — A storm — Naples — 
 Vesuvius — Santa Lucia — Street sights. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Naples — Via Toledo — Horses — Guides — National Museum — Religion — 
 Gennaro the Saint — Palace and theatre — Churches — Chiaja — Villa 
 Nazionale — Aquarium — Virgil's tomb — Grotto of Possilipo — Grotto 
 del cane — Pozzuoli — Baja — Lake Avernus — Bacoli — Prisons. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Neapolitan funerals — Scenes at the Potter's Field — Castellamare — Sor- 
 rento — Sea and groves — Deserto on the hill — Piccola Marina — Tem- 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 pie of Neptune— Capri— Blue Grotto— Holiday in Sorrento— Pro- 
 cessions — Fire-works — Yankee tooth-puller — Custom-houses. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Rome — Churches and Basilicas— Baths— Appian Way — Vatican — Col- 
 iseum — Sunset on the Pincian hill — Florence — The weird Mis- 
 ericordia — Pisa — Leaning tower — Landscape — Railway tunnels — 
 Bologna — Stillness — Sausages — Apostolic art — Venice — Gondolas — 
 Inundation on St. Mark's Square — Cathedral — Palace — Arsenal — 
 Pleasure park— Pictures on the Sclavonian quay — Through the Mer- 
 ceria — Shylocks on the Rialto — On the Grand Canal — Monastery of 
 San Lazero — Verona — Juliet's tomb — Amphitheatre — Fortifications 
 — San Zenone — A venerable bridge — Aged cypresses — Monuments 
 of the Scaliger family — Gems of scenery — Milan — The Cathedral — 
 The great arcade — A flayed saint — Turin — Through the mountain 
 into France. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Norway — Brilliant nights — Christiansand out-of-door pleasures — Soldiers 
 — Christiania — Wooden houses — Hotels — Scenery — Fjords — Buying 
 a cariole — Across Lake Mjosen — Travelling — Peasants — Changing 
 horses — Eating — Station-houses — Religion — Love of pictures — An- 
 tique furniture and ornaments — A Norwegian Thermopylae — Herr 
 Tofte of royal descent — A silent station — Struggles in making a bed 
 — A jolly parson — His rude church — Splendor of the Romsdal — A 
 blockade of travellers — Aak — Wet to the marrow — Soup — Through 
 clouds to Molde — Aalesund — Superb skies — The famous Geiranger — 
 Lonely Merok — The government physician — How he manages to 
 live — Zigzagging to Bergen. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Bergen — Fish and fire — Warehouses of the Hanseatic League — Up the 
 Hardanger fjord — The Norwegian Niagara — The stupendous falls — 
 Vossevangen and quaint costumes — The grand valley — The moun- 
 tain summits — Borgund's grotesque shrine — Good cheer at Nystuen 
 — Out of Norway — Gothenburg — Swedish Sundays — Up the great 
 canal — Royal autographs — Stockholm — Oscar's palace — The Em- 
 peror of Russia — Royal dead — National Museum — Pleasure gardens 
 — Classic Upsala. 
 
CONTENTS. . v 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 c 
 
 Passports — Finnish students — Abo — Droskies — Helsingfors and the sol- 
 diery — At anchor in Cronstadt — St. Petersburg and its charms — 
 Domes and spires — The wonderful city of the Neva — Architecture 
 and ornamentation — Nevski Prospekt — Street scenes — The famous 
 Monastery — Trying to speak Russian — A silver shrine — Priests. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Distances in St. Petersburg — Public buildings — The Alexander Monolith 
 — Palaces of the War and the Navy — Winter Palace — How it was 
 built — A weather-beaten bridge — The citadel — The Fortress church 
 and the imperial graves — Statues. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Blessing the river — A bridge shrine — Religious pictures — Servants and 
 watchmen — Cabmen — The Hermitage and its treasures — Gallery of 
 Peter the Great — Its wonderful contents — Russian restaurants — Tea- 
 drinking — Shops — Chimes — St. Isaac's — Its glowing interior — Ser- 
 vices — Drives. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Rail to Moscow — Smoking — Pillows and sleeping — The guard — Tvar — 
 The city of the Kremlin — The unexpected in sight-seeing — Bazars — 
 Icon manufactories — Trading — The environments of the Place of 
 Skulls — Through the St. Nicholas Gate — The Kremlin not a ruin — 
 Church and State — Religious sentiments — Cathedrals — Anniversary 
 services — Up into the lofty bell-tower — Love of noise — Beauty and 
 fantasy. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Countless bells — Caught in a vortex of bell-waves — The Bell of Moscow 
 — Veneration for saintly bones — My experience in St. Michael's — 
 Welcoming Ivan's dead son — Sacred pageants — The Metropolitan — 
 Walks through French cannon — A monster of war — The Palace — 
 The famous old red stair-case — The wild designs of the builders — 
 Splendid halls and strange apartments — Polishing floors — Napoleon 
 in the Kremlin — His ambitious dreams — The Treasury — Jewels, 
 thrones, and spoils. 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Pretty nuns— A conceit in architecture — A barbaric temple consecrated 
 to an idiot— Cathedral of our Saviour— Catherine's mammoth hospi- 
 tal—Russian babies — Next to the empress is the faded icon — Mos- 
 cow's eating and drinking places — Pleasure parks — Art and learning 
 — Many types of men in glass cases — On Sparrow Hills — Eastern 
 scenes— A hobgoblin horizon— Long journeys— Smolensk— Over the 
 Vistula — Warsaw — Military government — Poor Poland — The People 
 and their pleasures — The royal palace— Sobieski and his Villanov — 
 Children of Israel — Into the realm of ideas. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Berlin — Monument and statues— The Emperor — German soldiers — Pots- 
 dam — Frederick and Voltaire — Sans Souci — Cologne and its Cathe- 
 dral — The old bridge at Coblentz — The rain on the Rhine — Drink- 
 ing the waters at Wiesbaden — Heidelburg castle and students — Sor- 
 rowing Strasbourg — A pickpocket's Paradise — Paris in the ceme- 
 teries — Marseilles. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Into Spain — Smugglers — The Pyrenees still hold up their great heads — 
 An empire of tobacco smoke — Catalonia — Cooking — Table manners 
 — Scenery along the way — Peasants at the stations — Arrival at Bar- 
 celona — Hotel systems — The shady Rambla — Cruel dames and pret- 
 ty maidens — Mammoth cafes — Beautiful boulevards and squalid 
 streets — Bodegas — Campo Santo and its practices — Frowning Mon- 
 juich — Time-tables — Annoyances on the train — On to storied Valen- 
 cia — The terrible tartana — The Sereno and his midnight announce- 
 ment — Decorated mansions — Valencia's splendid church — The mar- 
 ket-place and its surging crowds — Oranges. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Madrid — Station experiences — Decorations for the wedding — Sea of 
 heads — Puerta del Sol — People and pageant — The wedding proces- 
 sion — Court carriages — An exiled queen — The king — Return to the 
 palace — Festivities — Royal Corridas — Bull-fights and patrons — Keen 
 discrimination of betting men — The Plaza de Toros of Madrid — 
 Pictures — Scenes — Spectacles — Blood, agility, nerve. 
 
£ONTENTS.\ vii 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Towering Toledo — A sad and quiet city — The cathedral — Sword works 
 — Churches — Streets — Spain's West Point — Don Quixote's plains — 
 Tangiers — Sunrise — Landing — Moorish streets — A swarthy deliverer 
 — Life and action — Shops — Manner of trading — The camel camp and 
 the story-teller — To Tetuan — Getting ready — The silent policeman — 
 Moorish cultivation — Camel trains — Fondac and its inhabitants — A 
 soldier of the Empire — A parley at the gates — The gentle Jew — Mar- 
 ket-place — Accommodation for thirsty travellers — Native concerts — 
 Ceuta — Cock mass. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 England's sentry-box, Gibraltar — Cannon and flowers — Galleries — Sig- 
 nal station and its shy visitors — Population — Evading the customs — 
 Turkeys and tobacco — Soldiers — A well earned medal — Tarifa and 
 Trafalgar — Trouble at Cadiz — Spanish kitchens — A beautiful city — 
 Balconies — Sherry at home — Queen city of Spain — A world's fair 
 — Seville's cathedral — Holy Week — Miserere — Dancing at the altar 
 steps. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Seville and charity — What a reformed rake did — La Caridad — Seville 
 painters — Tobacco factory — The cigarette girls — Alcazar — Pedro the 
 Cruel and his grim jokes — House of Pilate — An exquisite garden — A 
 Patio — Foundling hospital — Jews and Moors — Cordova — My priest 
 — The Mosque and treasures — Roman bridge — To Granada — Arrival 
 — Precincts of the Alhambra — Within the courts, gardens, and 
 apartments — The king of the Gypsies — Hanging Gardens — General- 
 ife — Tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella — The phantom cross — The 
 Vela tower. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Diligence to Baylen — Royal highways — The stronghold of Jaen — Eufrasio 
 and the devil — Mule targets — Guardia Civile, and how they maintain 
 order — Dos de Mayo at Madrid — The Escurial and its thousand 
 windows — The cell where Philip died — The crypt of kings and 
 queens — The sword of the Cid — Madrid picture gallery — Shops — 
 Out of Spain — Biarritz — The Landes — Bordeaux — Southampton — 
 The last of seven hundred days. 
 
AALESUND TO TETUAN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PORTSMOUTH— ISLE OF WIGHT. 
 
 WHEN I left London one exquisite autumn day to go 
 to southern France by easy stages, the idea of extend- 
 ing my wanderings to Aalesund and Tetuan never for a 
 moment entered my head. While I had heard of Khar- 
 toum and Merv, and could point them out on maps, Aalesund 
 and Tetuan were strange looking words, whose significance 
 might belong to biography as well as to geography ; and 
 had I been asked to explain them, my discomfiture would 
 have been complete. Lying so remote from the routes 
 usually taken by travellers, and being so unimportant in 
 the world's eye, these widely separated towns are rarely 
 visited, although of late they are getting into society a little 
 more, and are beginning to lose some of their shyness. 
 The odd circumstance connected with my journey was, that 
 I never dreamed of such places until chance set me down in 
 them. As I never heard old travellers speak of them, I often 
 wondered how I happened to go there, unless it was because 
 the names attracted me. Having abundant time at my dis- 
 posal, there was no occasion to hurry and rush, so I allowed 
 myself two years for the journey, lingering here and there as 
 long as it suited my fancy ; then moving on, regardless of 
 plans, until I knew both Aalesund and Tetuan, and many 
 other towns beside. 
 
 The Channel Islands, with their quaint self-independence 
 
2 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 and pride, had always interested me ; and the opportunity 
 had at last come when they lay directly in my path, and not 
 the shadow of an excuse remained for not visiting them. 
 There is no more interesting way to Paris than by these 
 islands and northern France, where every step brings one 
 face to face with charming scenery, and that conservative 
 manner of living which is as delightful as it is fresh and 
 rare. The wheels of time go slowly there, and every hour 
 has sixty minutes. For the moment one becomes a subject 
 of the Norman dukes — a pleasing dream, surely, as it may 
 be broken at one's will. The ancient" ruins, with mosses 
 and ivies, assume their wonted splendor ; pageants and cer- 
 emonials again bedazzle the beholder ; and Paris and Lon- 
 don seem thousands of leagues away. All this is very 
 pleasant and dramatic, and is thoroughly enjoyable in these 
 declining days of the nineteenth century. A deep-seated 
 consciousness that steam is the servant of man actually 
 serves to enhance the romance and sentiment caused by 
 these venerable scenes. As soon as Norman associations 
 become heavy, all one has to do is to take a rapid train, and 
 a few hours later be landed in the midst of that glittering 
 world revolving round Paris. If ever a century held out 
 special inducements to travel, this that we call our own is 
 unquestionably the one. 
 
 Before leaving England for these deep-sea allurements, I 
 spent a day at Portsmouth, where every lamp and window 
 breathes war and glory, and where even the hitching-posts 
 are disused cannon. Portsmouth, better than any spot in 
 Great Britain, illustrates the military and naval power ot 
 the country, and affords a reasonable explanation of the old 
 claim of Britannia ruling the waves. Profound peace pre- 
 vailed, the horizon held no clouds at the lime I saw it, and 
 yet the great dockyard displayed an activity such as war 
 might call forth. Every one seemed overburdened with 
 
ENGLISH WAR SHIPS. 3 
 
 duties ; — soldiers rushed about, bearing messages ; officers, 
 in half uniform, bristled with importance ; sailors were as 
 thick as monkeys in Brazil ; and workmen plied their voca- 
 tion amid a din of hammers so terrific as almost to make 
 one deaf. If this was an every-day scene, then extraordi- 
 nary occasions must be wonderful. Portsmouth is one of 
 England's strongest ports, and is accounted impregnable. 
 Money has never been a consideration with the people when 
 fortifications were called for, and millions of pounds have 
 been expended to make them complete. In a military 
 point of view, the English have reason to be proud of this 
 old garrison, and they rarely lose a chance of calling the at- 
 tention of strangers to its strength and massiveness. For 
 my part, I should consider Portsmouth an admirable school 
 in which to give visiting Zulus and Maoris sound lessons in 
 British supremacy and authority, so that they might depart 
 to their people filled with astonishment and fear. In this 
 way some of England's needless and annoying wars with 
 natives might very likely be averted, and at the same time 
 the leading chiefs could enjoy a royal tour, and go back to 
 their tribes in broadcloth and silk hats. Even to us civil- 
 ized mortals the martial aspect of the town is very impres- 
 sive, and ought to compel admiration from Quakers them- 
 selves. 
 
 While these sights are certainly interesting, one must 
 spend time to see them, a day at least. Then one gets a 
 vivid conception of that infinite labor which is ungrudgingly 
 given to the iron walls of the queen's empire, and even the 
 anglophobe begins to entertain a respect for the nation that 
 has the foresight and patriotism to so protect her honor. 
 
 Armed with the necessary passes, I went on board the 
 Thunderer, that monstrous iron-clad, and was shown all I 
 desired to see. The officer in charge kindly explained 
 the working of the battery, which is simple in its manage- 
 
4 AALESUND TO TETUAM. 
 
 ment, and might be handled by a child. Then he enlarged 
 upon the guns, claiming for them a projectile force so tre- 
 mendous that I could almost fancy this terrible ship outside 
 of Portland, Maine, flinging solid shot across the summit of 
 Mount Washington. While I was on the Thunderer they 
 were making active preparations for sailing ; and the hurry 
 and confusion incident to departure made the decks any- 
 thing but ship-shape. In less than two months later this 
 terror of naval warfare had reached the Bosphorus as a living 
 menace to Russian and French influences, and, to more fully 
 demonstrate its fearful claim, began exercising this wonder- 
 ful battery of thirty-ton guns. At almost the first discharge 
 one of these celebrated guns burst into fragments, killing a 
 score of officers and men, and, for aught I know, my guide 
 might have been among the number, — thus teaching to the 
 gunnery boards of England a wholesome lesson in more 
 careful inspection. 
 
 The British admiralty rejoices in a nomenclature so awe- 
 inspiring as to cause consternation among its foes. The 
 Dreadnaught, the Inflexible, the Devastation, the Hercules, 
 and the Dictator are among its choicest specimens ; and if 
 there is any virtue in a name, the battle may be half won. 
 This European craze for constructing mammoth ships-of- 
 war has by no means run its course. Every nation vies 
 with every other ; and a new idea, no matter how unsound 
 it may be, or how expensive, is eagerly seized upon and 
 incorporated into the prevailing architecture. England is 
 always experimenting ; and her experiments have caused 
 sorrow and humiliation, as every traveller who has read the 
 bronze tablet, commemorating the crew of the Captain, in 
 Saint Paul's cathedral, will testify. Now France leads in 
 the race ; while Italy, not to be outdone, has startled the 
 world by producing such monsters as the Italia and the 
 Lepanto, with armor 36 inches thick, with a displacement 
 
THE VICTORY. 5 
 
 of 14,000 tons, and carrying batteries of four 100-ton guns. 
 Where this extravagant competition will end nobody knows, 
 but it is safe to assume that a good share of it will fetch up 
 at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 Not far from the granite walls of the arsenal lies the his- 
 toric Victory, mournfully tossing on those waves whose 
 mistress she once was. Like a scarred veteran, she is an 
 object of compassion and interest; but her day has gone, 
 and ruthless decay has seized her for its own. At the risk 
 of being somewhat disrespectful, the Victory, with her vast, 
 almost square, bulk of four stories, reminded me of a shoe 
 factory painted black. The four rows of ports dotting its 
 bellying sides look highly ridiculous in these days ; and the 
 carved balconies around the stern, admirably adapted for 
 flower-pots and moonlight flirtations, add another comical 
 feature ; but once on deck, and there comes over one the 
 becoming sentiment which the memory of Lord Nelson 
 always inspires. The decks are low, yet not gloomy, owing 
 to the abundance of light admitted through the port-holes, 
 and are kept clean and orderly. There is quite a museum 
 of Trafalgar mementos on board, comprising, of course, 
 cannon balls, swords, guns, flags, cutlasses, and innumera- 
 ble objects bequeathed by battle ; but the most precious 
 amonsr them is the coat and vest, blood-stained, and vet well 
 
 perserved, that were worn by Nelson on the glorious Octo- 
 ber day three quarters of a century ago. On the quarter- 
 deck a silver star marks the spot where the French musket- 
 man shot him down ; and around it stood little knots of 
 sight-seers, lost in reverie. This venerable pensioner is now 
 used as a school-ship, where the youth of England may 
 learn, amid hallowed influences, how to be brave and patri- 
 otic. So long as the old frigate tosses upon the waves, she 
 will be an object of fondest devotion. Fathers will carry 
 their children there ; and generation after generation will 
 
6 A ALE SUN D TO TETUAN. 
 
 pour over the lofty sides, and ramble about the quaint old 
 decks, and come away thanking Heaven that no matter 
 what the future may have in the way of chance, the glory of 
 the Nile and of Trafalgar can never fade. 
 
 Beside the satisfaction of standing on the quarter-deck of 
 Nelson's flag-ship and contemplating the history of nations, 
 I came away full of an additional satisfaction, which is 
 rarely permitted to strangers visiting such scenes : that 
 ubiquitous pest, the seller of relics and mementos, never 
 once put in an appearance. Neither canes nor pin-cushions 
 carved from the timbers, nor paper-weights made from can- 
 non balls, were offered for sale. The locality was refresh- 
 ingly exempt from such irrepressible creatures, whose stock 
 in trade is as inexhaustible as the sacred relics of Rome. 
 
 In the city, back from the barracks and arsenals, Ports- 
 mouth has that peaceful English air which is so full of 
 charm. The streets are quiet, the walks shady, and the 
 houses have peaked roof and awkward gables. The sea 
 views are exquisite, so that when the eye is tired of broad 
 arrows and bristling bayonets, the marine pictures in the 
 beautiful roadstead furnish an agreeable change. The views 
 from the Parade and the Clarence Esplanade looking toward 
 the Isle of Wight are exceedingly lovely, giving a rare 
 blending of war and peace. In the foreground are the 
 iron-clads and the land batteries, while across the harbor 
 is that emerald island sleeping as tranquilly as it did on the 
 great creation day long before wars were a part of civiliza- 
 tion. In the season the town is full of strangers, who seek 
 its favored situation to catch the soft, invigorating breezes, 
 and to lay in a winter's stock of national conceit ; and the 
 South-sea park is gay and vivacious all clay long. 
 
 Portsmouth, like all these coast towns, is undergoing 
 constant improvements. The crooked streets are becoming 
 scarce, and the narrow ones are taking on that dignity 
 
THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 7 
 
 which breadth alone can give them ; the open and long dis- 
 used parts bordering the water have been converted into 
 lively promenades, with music-stands and flower-beds and 
 works of art ; new hotels look out upon the change, and 
 their coffee-room windows embrace as pretty scenes as one 
 could wish for. Not only in this way has the town put on 
 a new appearance, but also in the fortifications has a new 
 order begun. The ancient bastions and ravelins are fast 
 disappearing ; their uselessness is no longer questioned, and 
 more solid works rise up in their stead ; the massive gates, 
 once so formidable, are allowed to crumble ; the wet ditches 
 are no longer looked upon for defence ; and the solemn old 
 ramparts, with their strangely uniformed grenadiers, have 
 all but disappeared. 
 
 Ryde, that most fascinating introduction to the Isle of 
 Wight, just across the harbor from Portsmouth, is a mixture 
 of sea resort and business place, and boasts of an impor- 
 tance, as such things go, in this sweet little gem of the sea. 
 No doubt its people love their homes, and, that they may 
 the more surely keep them, cater to the numerous wants 
 of summer visitors, and so lay up a competency that keeps 
 the wolf from the door, and makes life worth living. 
 
 The long iron pier, stretching a half mile or more into 
 the ocean, affords a delightful promenade, and is almost like 
 going to sea. To enjoy its attractions costs as much as a 
 matutinal stimulation, but its effect is more sanitary. As 
 an appetizer, it stands unrivalled. 
 
 In a most comfortable conveyance I left Ryde one fair 
 morning. The air was scarcely tinged with autumn, and the 
 skies were as propitious as any Virgil ever gazed at. Under 
 such benign conditions no wonder I thought it was the par- 
 adise of old through which I was passing. Verdant and 
 flourishing hedges enclosed the highway for miles and miles. 
 The finishing touches of man's hand were everywhere visi- 
 
8 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ble. If the face of nature on this island ever wore an un- 
 sweet expression, it must have been when the savagest of 
 barbarians shed their blood in its presence, for its gentleness 
 and loveliness make it the abode of peace. The Bucolics 
 might have been inspired amidst the charms of this favored 
 isle, for the lazy hum of bees seems to float in the air all the 
 day long. 
 
 Among such quiet charms the sight of the old-fashioned 
 stocks in the market-place at Brading gave me a gentle 
 shock, and the remains of a bull-ring quite took away my 
 breath. I soon recovered, however, and charged them all 
 to the influence of ancient Rome. Poor old Brading is 
 sadly out of date ; the dust of antiquity has settled thickly 
 on its shapely form ; and yet, notwithstanding all this, the 
 town presents a rare and attractive simplicity. In a few 
 minutes the blue sea comes in sight again, and the pretty 
 scenery which greets the eye culminates in the prim little 
 watering-place of Sandown. Being Sunday, the church- 
 goers regard my equipage with curious intent, for on week 
 days these simple people have other things to look after, 
 and the rolling into town of a single landeau does not 
 seriously affect them. Even the frequenters of the cheerful 
 ale-houses came to the door, and exchanged salutations 
 with the driver. In England, including the Isle of Wight, 
 churches and drinking-places are open on the Lord's day, 
 thus catering to both extremes of society. 
 
 As Shanklin offered a pleasant resting-place, I drew up 
 before "Daishes," a comfortable and liberal inn, and had a 
 mid-day lunch. Having in mind the geographical fact that 
 the Isle of Wight is only twenty miles long, I procras- 
 tinated, lest I should find myself at Freshwater, the extreme 
 edge of the island, long before sundown ; so I became very 
 critical in the choice of meats and wine, and the waiter, on 
 his part, assisted by delaying everything except the bill. 
 
THE ISLE OE WIGHT. 9 
 
 Chines, which may be roughly described as deep gorges 
 made by the constant trickling of water-courses in their 
 efforts to reach the sea, are plentiful all over the Isle of 
 Wight ; and no well regulated resort would be complete 
 without one at least. The chine at Shanklin was about 
 two hundred feet deep, with sides thickly shrouded with 
 brush-wood and undergrowth, amid which rustic walks in- 
 tertwined. Miniature bridges and shady seats added to the 
 abundant charms of the picturesque ravine ; and with plenty 
 of time to dissipate, I found it quite a satisfaction to get lost 
 and then try to find my way out of these leafy labyrinths. 
 On emerging from the chine I noticed a shield close by a 
 rustic fountain, containing these very sweet and appropri- 
 ate lines : 
 
 ' O traveller, stay thy weary feet ; 
 Drink of this fountain pure and sweet ; 
 
 It flows for rich and poor the same : 
 Then go thy way, remembering still 
 The wayside well beneath the hill, 
 
 The cup of water in His name." 
 
 I quaffed my draught in accordance with the poet's sug- 
 gestion, and tendered him my heartfelt thanks. 
 
 Between Shanklin and Bonchurch is a succession of ter- 
 races and undulating patches of earth, rather unusual in 
 appearance, so I inquired what it meant. My driver, who 
 was a native of the island, told me that the section through 
 which we were riding went by the name of Undercliff, and 
 that the eruptive nature of the country was due to a series 
 of land-slides in years gone by. He also gave it as his 
 opinion that the same process might be expected at any 
 moment, owing to the action of the sea on the soft and yield- 
 ing substratum of the island. I could but think how awk- 
 ward it would be to have one of these big slides during our 
 passage. I did not encourage the coachman to unfold his 
 1* 
 
IO AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 geological theories, as he fostered a habit of walking the 
 horses during each conversational period. As scenery goes 
 in the Isle of Wight, the UnderclifF road is very rugged and 
 wild. Great boulders, loosely hanging over the highway, 
 seem ready to quit their settings and drop on the unwary 
 traveller ; and to increase the startling effect, loose stones 
 are constantly rattling down, and, like skirmishers in battle, 
 may be the forerunners of something more terrible. Threat- 
 ening as this road is, it creates a splendid contrast to the 
 calm meadows and intervales, and the glistening waves of 
 the ocean. 
 
 The villages are so exceedingly neighborly that my car- 
 riage rolled out of one and into another before I had time to 
 read their names in the market-place. I could not help think- 
 ing what a lively chase constables must have hunting petty 
 law-breakers from town to town. 
 
 To show how quickly one goes from place to place, my 
 talkative driver pulled his horses into that slow walk that 
 presaged his conversation, and began telling me about Bon- 
 church and its attractions. I listened intently, only waiting 
 for a pause in the description, and when it came I told him 
 I would like to stop a few minutes and pay my respects to 
 the beauties of Bonchurch ; but Jehu sadly shook his red 
 curls, and informed me that we had passed Bonchurch and 
 were then in Ventnor. 
 
 Here the wind is tempered to the shorn invalid. The 
 climate is equable and genial for those afflicted with lung 
 diseases, and merits the name of the English Madeira. It 
 fronts the sea, and is protected behind by a range of hills 
 which keep out the saucy north wind. As at all the resorts 
 on the island, sea-bathing is generously indulged in, the 
 shore being peculiarly favorable for such sport. Nearly 
 every house was adorned with the sign, ''Apartments to 
 Let ;" and vacant lots were made interesting by the infor- 
 
THE ISLE OF WIGHT. II 
 
 mation conveyed to the passer-by, in large letters, that leases 
 for 999 years could be effected, and in two or three instances 
 2000 years was the limit. I could only hope that the owner 
 did not require pay in advance. There are several large 
 and sunny hospitals for consumptives in Ventnor, besides the 
 usual number of hotels and boarding-houses ; so, owing to 
 its immunity from the fierceness of winter, the little dingy 
 fishing village of 1836 has become one of the largest and 
 most expensive places on the island. It is growing rapidly, 
 and some over-sanguine patrons are beginning to compare 
 it with Nice as a gay and festive resort ; but Nice will, in 
 my opinion, still continue to entice all but the very consump- 
 tive Britons to its Circean spells. 
 
 From Ventnor to Blackgang the scenery is wild in 
 places, then gentle and beautiful as a cultivated garden, 
 and always fascinating. I think my driver would have 
 cried if I had missed the celebrated chine at Blackgang, 
 for his tongue had been portraying its grandeur and mar- 
 vels for miles. The chine is as wild and ugly a gorge as 
 ever robber chief infested, — deep, barren of verdure, with 
 sides dripping with moisture, and at the bottom trickles a 
 sluggish stream on its course to the sandy beach beyond. 
 Standing at the very foot, and looking up at the oozing 
 sides all so dark and forbidding, I almost fancied myself 
 in the gloomy hold of some large steamship. The chine 
 was too damp for a long stay, so I made my way towards 
 the warm sunshine streaming from overhead, when my steps 
 were arrested by a small building set across the path. The 
 means of ingress were numerous, but there seemed to be 
 only one way out, and that lay through the architectural 
 blockade in front. It was a bazar, with a full assortment of 
 sticks, pin-boxes, prayer-books with wooden covers, and a 
 hundred other mementos of the locality. It required much 
 firmness on my part to resist the blandishments of a young 
 
12 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 saleswoman, who kept insisting that I ought to buy the 
 entire stock in trade. I was adamantine, however, and 
 succeeded in getting off with some trifling article, which I 
 gave to a small child playing near the entrance. It after- 
 wards occurred to me that the child with flaxen locks was 
 acting its part in the drama of the bazar. 
 
 Blackgang hotel, high on the brink of a cliff', commands 
 an extensive sea view, which in fair weather enables one to 
 discern the blue outlines of the coast of France. Under the 
 assiduous assertions of the waiter, I fancied I made out a 
 faint streak which looked like France. At all events, I was 
 willing to receive it as such. From here to Freshwater 
 the highway takes a turn inland, but the same beautiful 
 landscape lies round about, — peaceful farms, with thatched 
 and vine-clad cottages, symmetrical hedges and venerable 
 bridges, and distant spires ; while closer, flocks of sheep, 
 with foot-worn shepherds, come trudging along the dusty 
 road. Through Shorwell, Brixton, and Brooke we glided ; 
 and soon after the sun went down we drew rein before 
 the hotel at Freshwater. 
 
 The next morning I joined a party to visit Alum bay and 
 the Needles, at the extreme north-west of the Isle of Wight. 
 The cliffs about there are variegated with the liveliest colors, 
 each stratum having its own way as to the hue it should 
 favor — some gray, others yellow, and still others red ; so 
 that from a little distance the effect is very pretty. 
 
 The Needles are sharp, spire-like rocks rising out of the 
 ocean, and presenting strange forms as one looks at them 
 from different positions. A fair imagination would be able 
 to make a lively panorama of things terrestrial and things 
 celestial out of the erratic rocks at Alum bay. One gentle- 
 man succeeded in creating Sinbad the sailor, the Jew Fagin, 
 and the Indian chieftain, feathers and all, by observations 
 taken at different angles. I was not so fortunate in my dis- 
 
THE ISLE OE WIGHT 1 3 
 
 covery, but the Needles are really most prodigal of figures 
 and forms. Our guide informed us that the highest rock 
 tumbled into the sea about a century ago — a fate which he 
 deeply deplored, inasmuch as the lost Needle was 120 feet 
 high. Humanity has now taken possession of the loftiest 
 pinnacle, and placed a light-house there, 700 feet above the 
 waters that surge around its fantastic foundations. 
 
 The drive from Alum bay to Newport was through the 
 same garden-like country as before, — broad fields and sweep- 
 ing downs as far as I could see on either side, here and 
 there a village, and here a party of harvesters who swung 
 their hats as we hurried past. 
 
 Newport enjoys the mild distinction of being the capital 
 of the island ; and a cleanly and sweet little capital it is. 
 Quiet streets, imposing dwellings, and an old church prove 
 that the people of Newport are proud of their heritage, and 
 mean to preserve the dignity of the place. 
 
 Carisbrooke castle, a mile out of town, is one of the most 
 celebrated and most beautiful ruins in Great Britain. It 
 stands on the crown of a high hill, and commands a wide 
 view of the exquisite landscape. Charles I was imprisoned 
 within the walls of the castle, and the very casement, with 
 its thick bars, is still pointed out where the royal captive 
 attempted to escape. The crumbling castle was built about 
 the time of the Conquest, and traces of that rough architect- 
 ure may still be seen at every turn. The time-worn walls 
 are under kind protection ; so in all probability Carisbrooke 
 will continue to adorn the pretty Isle of Wight for many 
 years to come. The ivy-mantled keep is highly picturesque, 
 while the machicolated gateway affords a study to one inter- 
 ested in medieval structures. The sightly position was not 
 unappreciated by the Romans, for villas have recently been 
 discovered that showed unmistakable Roman origin ; and 
 the Celts, also, had their day on this lovely eminence. In 
 
14 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the court-yard of the castle is a quaint old well and a most 
 historical ass. I do not think it was the well so much as 
 the means of raising the water that made the attraction. 
 Over the mouth of the well a large wheel is hung, worked 
 by this venerable and patient beast. There, in his gentle, 
 meek-eyed way, he paces his never-ending path. Resigned 
 to his fate, he hauls up the cold, clear water from the cav- 
 erns below ; and his master offers it at a penny a cupful. 
 Whether Charles slaked his thirst at this fountain, history 
 does not record ; but this ass, so they say, is a direct de- 
 scendant of the mouse-colored quadruped that turned the 
 wheel in the time of the Stuarts. 
 
 With Carisbrooke lingering in my memory, I took the 
 mail-packet Diana at Southampton, and resigned myself 
 to the night. The passage was to the famous Channel 
 Islands, that sea-girt empire of cream. The Diana was 
 a state-roomless craft, and the passengers were turned into 
 a somewhat limited common cabin, with sleeping-berths 
 arranged around the sides, so that no one could be sea-sick 
 during the passage without every one's knowing the fact. I 
 have never been a victim of that dread malady, but that 
 night I almost succumbed out of sympathy with my fellow- 
 voyagers. There was one sour, dyspeptic man, with a 
 frightful shock of off-colored hair, who kept exclaiming " I 
 shall die ! I shall die ! " He was vociferously ill, but long 
 before daybreak I began to lose hopes of his promised dis- 
 solution. 
 
 When I went on deck the next morning we were passing 
 the dangerous Casquets, the sharp, fanged ledges on which 
 thousands of brave men have met their death ; and Guern- 
 sey and Alderney were in plain view. The arrival of the 
 boat must be the great event of the day, as a large commit- 
 tee awaited us on the pier at St. Peter Port. The harbor is 
 well protected by massive stone moles, which run out into 
 
 
THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 1 5 
 
 the sea, and form a sort of breakwater. Owing to the state 
 of the tide, we landed on what might properly be called the 
 ground floor of the pier. It was covered with shells and 
 sea-weed, and was most uncertain of foot. The assembled 
 populace was ready for us. Eye-glasses were adjusted, and 
 we, poor travellers, like the early settlers of North America, 
 passed the gauntlet as best we might. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 JERSEY— GUERNSEY. 
 
 THE Channel Islands are illustrations of autonomy in 
 government. They were possessions of the Duchy 
 of Normandy at the time of the Conquest, and assisted 
 in the missionary work laid out by William ; but when 
 a later king of England lost his continental territory, 
 these little landing-places alone adhered to his cause, 
 and amid all the turmoil of politics since that time Jer- 
 sey and its neighbors have remained loyal. Their people 
 claim that England is a part of themselves : at any rate, 
 the imperial laws must mention these islands in order 
 to obtain any efficacy and force. The sturdy islanders 
 reason in this way : We went over with William and con- 
 quered the Danes and Saxons, and we remained there in 
 a political point of view: hence, being the direct descend- 
 ants of the Norman prince, England belongs to us. This 
 view of the question is entitled to considerable weight, 
 for England has never once attempted, during these centu- 
 ries, to free herself from the grasp of the Channel Islands, 
 but silently acquiesces in the claim, and does everything in 
 her power to cater to the independent ideas of her insular 
 owners. So far as law and customs are concerned, the 
 government at London never troubles itself with the islands. 
 It only exercises its authority on the subject of garrison and 
 fortifications. This is pleasing to the inhabitants, inasmuch 
 as the presence of the troops furnishes a ready market for 
 the farm produce, and for the much better reason that the 
 pay and expenses of the soldiery do not entail a shilling's 
 
THE CHANNEL ISLANDS. 1 7 
 
 burden on the islanders. Whatever income they may receive 
 from the garrisons is so much clear gain. The money 
 comes from Great Britain — the Channel Islands not being a 
 part thereof for the purposes of taxation — and is left in St. 
 Peter Port, St. Helier's, and the other towns. In this sense 
 it is better to be born a Channel Islander than to be born 
 rich. They enjoy all the pleasures of the participation 
 without incurring the inconveniences of the excise. This is 
 almost a beatific state of affairs. 
 
 Besides these material advantages, the climate makes the 
 islands a favorite resort, both to persons suffering from 
 disease and to persons in good health. While the mean 
 average temperature is not many degrees different from that 
 of Greenwich, the average range is noticeably small, being 
 only 8° or 9 . These figures are from a record extending 
 through ten years, and were taken for the purpose of com- 
 paring the climate of Guernsey with other resorts in Eng- 
 land and France. Under conditions so favorable, no wonder 
 vegetation is luxuriant and profitable, and milk is rich. 
 Aside from fishing and cultivating the land, the inhabitants 
 find little to do ; but two industries like these are quite 
 enough to kill all the time at their disposal. The people 
 are hard workers, rising early and going to bed late year in 
 and year out, and then yielding up the ghost at a very ad- 
 vanced age, but working to the last. I cannot say whether 
 this vigor is the result of heredity, or the mode of living 
 coupled with the climate ; but I observed more active octo- 
 genarians during my stay on these islands than ever before 
 in my life. When I inquired of some shop-keeper why this 
 was so, he only smiled, and said he had never noticed it. 
 When a hearty old man of seventy or eighty autumns acts 
 in the capacity of chore-boy, to carry out bundles and to 
 make himself generally useful, it is not expected his master 
 will observe anything unusual. Pauperism and its accom- 
 
1 8 AALESUND IV TETUAN. 
 
 paniments are rarely seen. The conditions of life are 
 hostile to social evils like these, and crime, too, does not 
 flourish. Drunkenness may or may not be common ; but 
 I should think it might be, as every encouragement to 
 drinking is held out by the exceeding cheapness of all kinds 
 of spirits and wines. Being free ports, liquor and tobacco 
 ought to be plentiful, and probably they are, as drinking- 
 places are as numerous as barber shops in Bologna. If 
 such a paradise as this existed in Ireland or Scotland, it 
 would paralyze the imagination to conceive a Saturday 
 afternoon. 
 
 The government of the islands may be said to be wholly 
 a home rule, in which are retained many of the forms of 
 ancient Normandy. The proceedings of parliament and 
 the law courts are wholly carried on in the French lan- 
 guage, or a modification of it, accordingly as it strikes one's 
 ear. Some call it a patois ; others consider it too complete 
 for that ; and as for myself, I quickly made up my mind 
 that I did not care to learn it, and so let it alone. I have 
 seen it written, and, with a knowledge of French, I found 
 I could translate most of it ; but the words are strangely 
 mutilated and accented, so that at first sight a page of 
 Guernese may be taken for so much early English. The 
 islands form three political divisions, each with a parlia- 
 ment, a system of courts, and local functions. The chief 
 official is the bailiff', who, with his associates, reminded me 
 of some of Offenbach's creations, for they are pompous 
 with wigs and three-cornered chapeaux, resplendent in red 
 gowns and heavy in deportment. 
 
 Just how far coinage of money is permitted, I am unable 
 to say, although I have distinct recollections of being brought 
 face to face more than once by a flat refusal to accept my 
 small coins because they were of another island. French 
 money, even more than English, circulates in all the islands, 
 
ST. PETER PORT, GUERNSEY. 1 9 
 
 but the inhabitants have not yet reached that degree of 
 pride that prevents them from accepting shillings and sover- 
 eigns. 
 
 St. Peter Port, the largest place in Guernsey, is English 
 in all its details, policemen and all, and, with the excep- 
 tion of a few old crumbling lanes and corners, would pass 
 for any venerable English town. Perhaps the contact with 
 English people has weakened the primitiveness that for- 
 merly prevailed ; if so, it is lamentable, for when these 
 islands fall into the front ranks of to-day, their climate only 
 will be left to attract the stranger. The hotel was clean, 
 and the table excellent ; the proprietor was an out and out 
 Guernsey man, who knew every foot of the island, and 
 could lay out an itinerary that would introduce one to every 
 bay, settlement, and water lane. 
 
 To a certain degree Guernsey disappointed me. The 
 island is well worth visiting, but my preformed idea of what 
 its civilization was like was as unreal as the dreams of the 
 night. I fancied I should see a people as backward in 
 manners and usages as the grandsires before them. I did 
 not for a moment consider that these little out-of-the-way 
 places had cast off much that was original and interesting. 
 As I found St. Peter Port, so I found the entire island : the 
 tone was decidedly English. Notwithstanding the laws 
 and language, the Guernsey men might pass anywhere as 
 full-fledged English yeoman. 
 
 The coast-line is rugged, and deeply indented with pict- 
 uresque bays, which add a lasting charm to the general 
 recollections of the island. Fermain bay is a grand speci- 
 men, being enclosed by high cliffs, upon whose crests sturdy 
 Martello towers were placed, as if an attack by sea was ex- 
 pected. When the carriage could proceed no farther, we 
 walked to the shores of the bay through a lovely lane lead- 
 ing down past several Arcadian-like farms. It was a charm- 
 
20 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ing spot, where the weariest body might obtain absolute rest 
 and freedom from the cares of the world. It was the inspi- 
 ration of scenery like this that gave the world "Les Trav- 
 ailleurs de la Mer." For years Victor Hugo lived on this 
 island, and from the windows of his house at St. Peter Port 
 he looked out on the mysterious sea and the imposing cliffs. 
 His house Hautville may still be seen, but it has no out- 
 ward indications of interest. It is prim enough, as houses 
 go in Guernsey, to adorn the straggling street of some New 
 England village. It is not built of wood, and has no staring 
 green blinds : otherwise it would be very orthodox. Old 
 buildings are not wanting. Many of the houses bear evi- 
 dence of that period long since passed out of the memory of 
 man. And one church in particular, St. Apolline, is con- 
 structed of the rudest stone-work laid in mortar made from 
 small shells. This ecclesiastical structure was never done 
 under a government contract. During my ride I came 
 across several trickling brooks, so exquisitely placed amid 
 the shades and lights of the overreaching foliage that I could 
 not withstand their gentle teasing. 
 
 These "water-lanes" are found in the other islands, but 
 it is in Guernsey that they attain that perfection which has 
 no rival in the wide world. The lane is made out of the 
 bed of the brook or rill, cut deep, and then laid with flat 
 stepping-stones, while the water bubbles along the sides 
 unmolested. It is all shut out from the rough landscape by 
 high banks, and oftentimes high moss-covered walls hem in 
 the clear little water-course for a long distance. The un- 
 wonted luxuriance of ferns and emerald green foliage is 
 scattered along the banks, while overhead the interlaced 
 branches of the elm trees keep off the inquisitive sun. So 
 peaceful are these sylvan lanes, that I was startled when the 
 sound of breaking waves fell upon my ear, for I had fancied 
 the sea was thousands of miles away. The little silver 
 
JERSEY. 21 
 
 thread only glides through the enchanting lanes to drop into 
 the world of water, and be lost forever. 
 
 It does not take many hours to see all there is of interest 
 in this island, for, aside from the bays and cliffs and stretch- 
 ing beaches, Guernsey has but little to offer. The water- 
 lanes are certainly as lovely as they are unique, and charmed 
 me more than anything I saw. Of course one might spend 
 weeks here without getting tired, but I fancy the time would 
 hang rather heavily after a few days, for the old island is 
 dull and uneventful, notwithstanding its numerous marine 
 attractions. If one wants a complete idea of what the 
 Channel Islands are in sights and customs, it is well to visit 
 them all ; but to the ordinary traveller, whose purpose is not 
 to examine closely, but to visit comprehensively, a few w T ell 
 spent hours between the steamers — generally twenty-four — 
 are quite enough to give to Guernsey ; then let him betake 
 himself to that greater and more famous isle, whose gentle 
 cows have crowned it with a sort of bovine immortality 
 more lasting than monuments of brass. 
 
 I was impatient to reach Jersey, so I cut my stay short at 
 Guernsey, and took the morning boat for the fair isle of the 
 sea where the cow is almost as sacred as the white elephant 
 ofSiam. It was a very comfortable sail of three or four 
 hours from island to island, and our landing was accom- 
 plished under the same popular auspices as at Guernsey. 
 The tides about here are almost as ambitious as in the Bay 
 of Fundy, rising thirty feet or more, and entailing consider- 
 able inconvenience to travellers. The long mole, however, 
 enables the boats to discharge their cargoes under most any 
 circumstances ; but in the forefathers' day there must have 
 been a good deal of profanity. 
 
 St. Helier's, the capital, is a large and flourishing town ; 
 and before I had been there four-and-twenty hours I came to 
 the conclusion that its name was a striking illustration of 
 
11 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 onomatopoeia. St. Hellious would have hit the nomenclatic 
 nail on the head. Sounds of revelry by night, and loud 
 strains of gossip and trade during the day, are among the 
 peculiarities of the place. The accoustic properties of the 
 town are very remarkable, and I detected the true Gallic in 
 all this uproar. These people are more marked in their pe- 
 culiarities than the steady-going Guernseyites, who, by the 
 by, claim a somewhat higher rung in the social ladder than 
 the dwellers in Jersey. If silence almost to the verge of 
 positive dumbness be the token of aristocracy, then the 
 latter are a good way off from ribbons and garters. 
 
 The island is twelve miles long and seven wide, and there 
 are about sixty thousand pairs of lusty lungs thriving there- 
 on. The general features of the coast bear a resemblance 
 to Guernsey, being bold and indented ; but the surface of 
 the island is under a higher cultivation, and the drives are 
 ten-fold more charming. The way to see Jersey is to divide 
 the island into so many parts, taking one part for each day : 
 by so doing, very little worth seeing escapes the observant 
 tourist. I devoted four days to Jersey, and only wished it 
 could have been as many weeks, so delightful were my 
 experiences among the embowered lanes and along the ro- 
 mantic promontories. I would certainly recommend every 
 American, who can spare the time, to enter France by the 
 way of Jersey ; then cross to St. Malo or Granville, delight- 
 ful old towns ; then to Caen and Paris. I fear verv few 
 indeed will follow my suggestion ; if they only would, 
 what mines of pleasure and incidents they might possess ! 
 I have approached Paris by five different routes, and this is 
 the most interesting and picturesque of them all. 
 
 The attractions of climate, schools, and markets induce a 
 large family immigration from England, where such things 
 are highly prized, but are not always within the reach of 
 moderate incomes ; and as grass is green throughout the 
 
st helier's. 23 
 
 entire winter, I should choose Jersey myself in preference to 
 many more fashionable and less comfortable resorts. If 
 there are many invalids on the island, they become so merg- 
 ed with the healthy and active that one does not observe 
 them. The habits of the Jerseyites are vivacious, and pre- 
 sent diversion enough to interest the seeker after health, and 
 it is a great medicine to be amused by watching the amuse- 
 ment of others. 
 
 It was the middle of October when I was at St. Helier's, 
 a date indicated by the calendar, not by the weather. The 
 night air was warm and salubrious, surcharged perhaps 
 with the excesses of the dog-days, and I slept with the win- 
 dows of my chamber thrown wide open. By this sanitary 
 expedient my lungs were filled with fresh air, and my ears 
 with fresh noises. After night fall, the streets are given up 
 to foot passengers ; scarcely a carriage is ever found infring- 
 ing on the time-honored prerogative of the place. King 
 street vies with High street in the twilight revels, which 
 take place on all but rainy and inclement evenings. Men, 
 women, and children meet on the stage of friendly darkness 
 and drink the cup of harmless pleasure year in and year out. 
 The very night resounds with their laughter, nor does the 
 quaint old town still its antics until the new day has come. 
 These nocturnal entertainments are, I dare say, the special 
 property of St. Helier's. The thoroughgoing farmer beyond 
 the city walls seeks his couch at early sundown, and rises 
 refreshed and ready for another long day's work, just as the 
 merry revellers are fumbling for their night-keys. 
 
 Dublin and Jersey pride themselves on their exquisite 
 types of womanly beaut} 7 , and the claim is generally allow- 
 ed, for it would indeed be a foolhardy act to discuss this 
 proposition too earnestly ; but certainly the Jersey women are 
 far above the average both in looks and health, and when 
 Millais drew one of the beautiful faces on his canvas, the 
 
24 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 joy of the islanders knew no bounds. Copies were for sale 
 in the shops, and everybody appeared to take a personal 
 interest in the victory achieved by this favored native, who 
 has since become as well known to the people of a distant 
 continent as she was to her own neighbors. With this in- 
 digenous charm, which so few countries possess, no won- 
 der that Jersey feels she is the most important part in the 
 system of imperial government ; and if her people have the 
 habit of looking down disdainfully on the sister islands, why 
 need we wonder? 
 
 The best way to see the nooks and corners of the island is 
 to get a map, hire a gig, and push resolutely on, always 
 bearing in mind that the people you meet will gladly answer 
 your questions and often give useful information relative to 
 the object of your curiosity. 
 
 Jersey is a complete maze of embowered lanes and pass- 
 ages ; so, go where fancy leads, you will find an entrancing 
 loveliness and charm. What the water lanes are to Guern- 
 sey, these dry but shady paths are to Jersey. The sides are 
 high with moss-covered walls or mounds of earth, over 
 which, in tangled confusion, run vines and trailing plants, 
 while above the interlocked foliage sparingly admits the 
 sunlight. These lanes are very narrow and winding, so 
 that care has to be exercised to prevent collision. Bays are 
 arranged at certain distances, into whose kindly recesses 
 one carriage turns, while the other glides past. At the 
 openings in the walls or hedges I caught glimpses of the 
 snug little farms within, and exchanged salutations with 
 the proprietors. The system of feudal land tenure still ob- 
 tains ; and I believe inherited land cannot be devised, but 
 must follow the laws of succession. The island is sub- 
 divided into small parcels, for the consolidation of land 
 is not favored by law or by public sentiment. The eldest 
 son takes the house and a few acres of land (five vergees) 
 
JERSEY. 25 
 
 and one tenth of the remainder, the residue being allotted 
 to the other sons and daughters, the former taking two 
 thirds and the latter one third of the entire estate, rents 
 and all. As land is always liable for its owner's debts, 
 even after he has sold it, a purchaser must exercise great 
 caution, or he will wake up to find his hard-earned acres 
 laid hold of by stern and unyielding creditors, who are 
 strongly backed by the law. If land is the basis of wealth 
 and property, then Jersey must be one of the ideal spots, 
 for every farmer owns his little farm, or the little farm owns 
 the farmer, which is better. Few farms contain more than 
 ten or fifteen acres, and some are much smaller ; but the 
 reigning passion among the inhabitants is the cultivation 
 of the soil, and the possession of only a fair sized garden 
 would not discourage a bred-in-the-bone Jerseyman. Lon- 
 don furnishes a great market for their farm produce. It 
 may be shipped one day, and the next morning the stalls of 
 the city markets are laden with its richness ; and then the 
 cows are transported to the four quarters of the globe. No 
 farmer is so poor as not to own one, at least, of these celebrat- 
 ed animals, whose pedigree ante-dates that of William the 
 Conqueror. The cows must possess so many points — thir- 
 ty-four, I believe — in order to pass a satisfactory examina- 
 tion ; but my knowledge of fancy farming is so slight, that 
 milk, instead of a crumpled horn, or a small hoof, or a finely 
 adjusted tail, would be my sole criterion of bovine excel- 
 lence. And surely Jersey is the milk-drinker's paradise. 
 On the whole, the farmer has drawn a prize in the uncertain 
 lottery of life. With acres of his own, horses, and rich 
 cows, abundant harvests, and ready markets, — with whole- 
 some social surroundings, and a friendly climate, — what 
 more could fall to his lot? 
 
 In riding about the island I had a good opportunity to see 
 for myself how generously nature treats the farmers in the 
 
26 AALESUND TO TETUAAT. 
 
 way of abundant harvests. It was not the amount of the 
 produce, but the quality, that caught my attention. I saw 
 cart-loads of pears, any one of which would weigh nearly if 
 not quite a pound ; in fact, this fruit is sold by weight. It 
 would be a rather awkward undertaking for a small boy to 
 steal many of these tempting pears in the period of time 
 generally allotted to such predatory excursions. The proper 
 punishment would be to compel the young pirate to eat a 
 half dozen at one sitting. Apples and grapes are most proli- 
 fic, and so are vegetables of all kinds. But the most riotous 
 plant is the cabbage. Its ambition is not restrained by the 
 lankness of its growth. Up, up, towards heaven it shoots, 
 until the startled American begins to expect a visit from Jack 
 of the fable tales. Twelve and fifteen feet usually mark the 
 height attained by the Jersey cabbage, although now and 
 then a much greater size is found — a circumstance at once 
 eagerly seized upon by the local newspapers. The frugal 
 native turns this vigorous plant to practical use by convert- 
 ing the stalk into a walking-stick. I bought one as a sou- 
 venir, and a man from California teased it away from me 
 because he had never seen anything like it. His confession 
 was such a curiosity to me, that I willingly parted with my 
 small telegraph pole. Cider and cream are not popularly 
 supposed to get on well together, but I managed it by de- 
 voting one day to oysters and cider, the next to vegetables 
 and cream. Cider is one of the chief sources of income, 
 and vast quantities of this most delicious juice are made 
 each year. To the American palate the name oyster sug- 
 gests a feast ; and of all places outside our own Eastern and 
 Southern coasts, the shores of Jersey may be commended 
 for their bivalves. They are smaller and blacker than our 
 Cotuits, and have a more brackish taste ; but they answer 
 the purpose exceedingly well, and may be made susceptible 
 of relish. Gorey bay is the meeting-place for the vessels 
 
MONT ORGUEIL. 1*] 
 
 engaged in the oyster trade, and I have seen the broad tide- 
 deserted beach black with them. 
 
 Rozel bay is a charming dash of rough scenery, with 
 its cluster of castle-shaped ledges threatening the passing 
 sail. Near the sea, but secluded in the pretty fret-work of 
 winding lanes, is an estate called La Chaire, where most 
 beautiful plants and flowers abound, furnishing within a 
 small space the complete flora of the island. Besides these 
 are exotics growing in the open air, exposed to the caprices 
 of the sky, and yet they flourish as if protected by glass and 
 nurtured by artifice. 
 
 No place would be tolerated on the map of Europe that 
 did not possess some ruin or other ; and here, again, Jersey 
 jumps to the front, leaving out of sight, for the time being, 
 cows, cabbage-stalks, and Chaumontelle pears, and points 
 with unaffected pride to the picturesque old castle of Mont 
 Orgueil. This crumbling mass, dignified even in its decad- 
 ence, is older than the Christian religion. Its battlements 
 have not known the angry voice of strife for many centu- 
 ries — not since the time of the chivalrous Du Guesclin, who 
 once laid siege to the castle ; and to-day its utter desolation is 
 touching. At its base reposes the hamlet of Gorey, famous 
 for its oysters ; and a few leagues away over the glittering 
 foam of La Manche lie the low outlines of the French coast, 
 with an occasional spire breaking the monotony of the hori- 
 zon. As I gazed into France, I could but recall how saucily 
 England has stationed herself in the front doors of so many 
 nations. With these islands, which geographically do not 
 belong to her, she keeps an eye on Gallic enterprise. Then 
 Heligoland, Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, Aden, Campobello, 
 and Bermuda occurred to me. I cannot say how strategic 
 any one of these points may be, but their position, if not 
 actually menacing, is somewhat irritating. 
 
 Each day's ride took a new direction, though the paths 
 
28 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 often crossed each other ; but Jersey charms do not fade and 
 crumble with one glance. They bear repeating, and there 
 was mixture enough in my saunterings to give everything a 
 dash of novelty. The rough and threatening ledges guarding 
 the long, hard floor of the beach furnished me with vigor- 
 ous exercise ; and a turn inland brought me among the 
 shady lanes, with their refreshing wayside springs where 
 thirsty throats love to linger, or into the very presence of 
 home life where the housewife sat spinning or milking, and 
 in the background the array of buildings with their tiles 
 and thatches and scrambling vines : — these were some of the 
 hourly-met-with pleasures of the tourist in this garden of 
 the sea. 
 
 Scattered about the island are two or three ancient 
 churches. One, St. Brelade's, built in the twelfth century, 
 is full of interest to the archaeologist and the owl, for, while 
 not literally deserted, its mouldering aspect invites that 
 impression. The church-yard is black with grave-stones, 
 which, having been on guard for so many ages, now 
 topple and bend in utter weakness, and are scarcely de- 
 cipherable. St. Martin's is a fit companion to St. Brelade's, 
 and is worth a moment's study. 
 
 I most reluctantly turned my eyes toward France, and as 
 the steamer did not ply every day, I had to go ; but I carried 
 with me the tenderest recollections of old Jersey, and prom- 
 ised myself to return some day when the autumn treasures 
 were plentiful. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE COAST LINE OF NORMANDY. 
 
 THREE hours from the time the stout little steamer 
 left the stone pier at St. Helier's, it was running 
 through what looked like a vast fissure in the rocky coast 
 of France ; and quick upon the view came the grim granite 
 houses of Granville. Built on terraces receding from the 
 shore, the town struggles up the uneven hill until its ambi- 
 tion is crowned with a fierce looking fortress, over whose 
 ramparts floated the tricolor. There are two Granvilles — 
 one by the sea, the other on the hill. The restless dis- 
 position of the Atlantic hereabouts accounts for the massive 
 stone moles which extend far into the harbor, and impress 
 the observer with the importance and mightiness of the 
 place. 
 
 The fish business gives employment to the people from 
 the time they are born until they are overtaken by death or 
 age ; and a livelier and more vivacious population would be 
 hard to find. Although the catching and selling offish have 
 their hardships and dangers, there still lurk about the business 
 a certain briskness and exhilaration that are peculiarly its 
 own. No other calling: encourages such mirth and such free 
 and easy address. The poetical part belongs to the brown- 
 faced fisher maidens, shapely of limb and prodigal of health 
 — proud and defiant, but always displaying that touch of 
 female consciousness which gives a ribbon to the hair and 
 a little flower to the gown. The practical part is largely 
 engrossed by elderly matrons, rotund of form and wrinkled 
 of feature, who conduct the commercial transactions with a 
 
30 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 voice and vigor scarcely impaired by age, and certainly not 
 improved. Years ago these Granville fishwomen were as 
 pretty as the black-haired maiden of to-day, and artists were 
 accounted fortunate in capturing them for models. Even 
 now, under the adverse influence of so many March winds 
 and equinoctial tempests, these seared and marred old 
 dames are necessary to a faithful sketch of Normandy, for 
 were it not for their lofty headdresses and clanking chains, 
 the rich old towns along the coast would lose half their 
 charm and picturesqueness. 
 
 The market-place at Granville, on the day of my visit, 
 presented a strange scene of activity, for the fish-wives were 
 assembled to ply their vocations. What a babel of hoarse 
 cries and unintelligible language. One ventures through that 
 labyrinth of fins and scales at considerable danger to one's 
 clothes ; but I succeeded in safely passing the whirlpool of 
 controversy, and the rough projections of limpets and lob- 
 sters and glistening eels. On reflection, I think I prefer the 
 fish-wife in the singular rather than in the plural. A near 
 approach tends to dissipate the antique charm of the Gran- 
 villaises. Their wrinkles are like furrows, and their voices 
 are coarse, and exhale a strong tobacco scent ; besides, 
 many of them bear unmistakable indications of a hirsute 
 character on their chins. These personal traits are not en- 
 tirely classical. No, these lusty venders of Granville are 
 more interesting in a frame than as living realities. 
 
 The men wear a peculiar costume, handed down, very 
 likely, by the early princes of Normandy, consisting of 
 woollen caps, flowing blouses, and more flowing trousers 
 which expand like small umbrellas over the clumsy wooden 
 sabots. 
 
 The sidewalks of Granville are steep and uneven, and 
 missteps are frequent ; and when one of these sabots, — 
 which, by the way, bear a striking resemblance to the rude 
 
GRANVILLE. 3 1 
 
 models of the Pinta and Santa Maria, of Columbian history, 
 — slides from a projecting stone on to another, the strident 
 neighborhood is still further stimulated. 
 
 I noticed that the male portion of the community was 
 content to smoke short, black pipes, and to take life easily, 
 as if unmindful of the vociferations of their better halves, 
 with whom competition would be impossible. These hardy 
 "toilers of the sea" were unconcerned about the doings of 
 the market-place : all that was trusted to the not over-polite 
 females with little chin whiskers. 
 
 The natural slope of the upper town affords good wash- 
 ing-places for those of the fair sex not interested in the treas- 
 ures of the deep ; and along the banks of a small water-course 
 that chafed and murmured at its narrow confines, scores of 
 elderly women and young girls were busy. I am not sure 
 whether these laundry-workers occupy a higher rank in the 
 social world of Granville, but they are by no means so gar- 
 rulous or demonstrative as their sisters in the noisy market 
 below ; nor do they bawl out those left-handed compliments 
 which set the assemblage in loud laughter ; and for that rea- 
 son I was inclined to prefer the red-handed destroyers of 
 shirts and collars. These busy women make a great clatter as 
 they slap a tender piece down on a board, and then proceed 
 to pound and beat the crumpled thing into pulp. When 
 the entire company happen to do this in unison, how the 
 buttons fly ! 
 
 Granville is what the French call triste; and, aside from 
 the first interest excited by the population, the town does not 
 offer any inducement to prolong one's stay. Historically and 
 architecturally considered, this granite-capped sea-port does 
 not call out much wonder. But Granville, however, is a 
 good place from which to make an advance on Paris, for 
 this part of France is full of interest and beauty ; and yet, 
 owing to its out-of-the-way situation, it never will be popu- 
 
32 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 lar with those travellers whose object in life is to fly through 
 the world at a break-neck pace. 
 
 Not far distant is venerable Caen, where the Conqueror 
 lived and held his court. It is naturally taken for grant- 
 ed that the musty spirit of Caen would have succeeded 
 in frowning down the encroachments of the new order 
 of things ; but scarcely so, for its encircling walls contain 
 striking evidences of the busy world we live in. The 
 familiar but untrustworthy placard, '* English Spoken 
 Here," may be seen ; and the shops are filled with all the 
 agonies of fashion. The medievalism of the rude fore- 
 fathers has fled, and the old city is changing. Even the 
 shop-keepers seemed out of place as they tried to allure 
 me into purchases of lace at less than cost. What the 
 future may have in store does not matter, for the master- 
 pieces of medieval architecture make the city famous and 
 beautiful. The shapely spire and graceful lancet win- 
 dows which adorn St. Pierre, well repay one for a day's 
 delay ; and besides, the great interior, with nave and 
 choir replete in all the possibilities of Norman genius, 
 furnishes an additional reason why one should visit Caen. 
 I did not admire the harsh whitewash on the walls, as 
 I thought it gave to the interior a cheapness, and above 
 all, a roominess, not in keeping with the requirements of 
 the builders. A custodian informed me that it was done 
 in order to make the interior light. It has succeeded in 
 making it light and monotonous. Like the majority of trav- 
 ellers, I found the Abbaye aux Homines, or St. Etienne, the 
 most interesting structure in Caen — interesting because of 
 its history and its strong, determined plan. William founded 
 it, and within it is his tomb. The style is Norman Roman- 
 esque, and marks the transition period of the eleventh cent- 
 ury. Ornamentation is reduced to the least possible pre- 
 tension, the outlines are bold and uncompromising, but 
 
CAEN. 33 
 
 symmetrical, with two massive towers tapering off in grace- 
 ful spires. Inside, the dimensions, though most liberal, do 
 not lose their proper proportion. Still, grand and impres- 
 sive as the exterior certainly is, the freshness of the interior, 
 like that of St. Pierre, is utterly out of keeping with good 
 taste. William does not repose in a very elaborate mauso- 
 leum : in truth, desecration has left little except a slab, 
 which is pointed out, and may be mourned over. The 
 loquacious official who showed me the sights in St. Eti- 
 enne had been wound up, and there was no stopping him. 
 He related a vast amount of history and incident, and 
 evinced so much familiarity with the Conqueror as to im- 
 press me with the idea that he had served under him ; and 
 I half expected to behold this Norman Euphorbus take 
 down the shield he had worn at Hastings. 
 
 Caen has churches, monasteries, and convents in abun- 
 dance, but they are not worth visiting, so I amused myself 
 by exercise in the open air. The streets, like those of every 
 town of character and antiquity, are a mixture of math- 
 ematical accuracy and hyeroglyphics, while the houses con- 
 form to nameless styles. The old town is a good field for 
 studying fantastic windows and casements, many of which 
 are embellished with animals cut in stone, while the roofs 
 delight in projecting water-spouts representing lions' heads 
 and dragons' jaws. 
 
 The French have a mania for advertising, and it breaks out 
 in the most unlooked-for places. Even the sacred precincts 
 of the churches do not wholly escape ; so the holy walls and 
 the grim old edifices of the town become the medium of in- 
 forming the public that the Bon Marche is selling goods for 
 nothing, or that the Petite Journal has the largest circula- 
 tion of any newspaper. Pear's soap, disguised in French, 
 occupies a conspicuous place, and in friendly rivalry comes 
 the Singer sewing machine. But, after all, Caen is very 
 
 2* 
 
34 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 interesting, although its commercial importance has suffered 
 somewhat of late ; still, there is enough left to invite a visit. 
 The crumbling walls and the -picturesque ruins and the 
 splendid churches more than compensate for the heartless 
 air of trade and improvement. Year by year these ancient 
 landmarks, so closely connected with William and Matilda 
 and the English Edward, are vanishing ; but the citizens 
 are not lacking in local pride ; — the inevitable will be 
 stayed as much as possible, and St. Etienne and Trinity 
 will long continue to adorn the earth. 
 
 From the grave of William the Conqueror to Trouville 
 is quite a change, as it took me out of the middle ages and 
 landed me safely in the most modern of modern eras. 
 
 Sea-bathing is reduced to an aquatic science in France, 
 and curiosity led me to that nautical Eden, where Paris 
 comes to enjoy a sea-breeze. Thither flocks the fashion 
 of the French capital to spend the summer. Extravagance 
 reigns supreme, but it is worth a few Napoleons to mingle 
 with the gay promenaders and follow in the wake of so 
 much fashion, to watch it and to reflect on its actions. Men, 
 women, and children immediately assume an amphibious 
 nature when once there, and the same hilarity that charac- 
 terizes them on land bears them company in the water : and so 
 the consistency of the Trouville reputation is maintained. The 
 daily routine is bathing and riding in the morning ; lunches, 
 excursions in the country, and promenading in the after- 
 noon ; while the evening is patchworked with the cassino, 
 where flirtation and cards and the sweetest of music hold 
 their votaries fast bound. To be sure, the company may 
 be more or less mixed ; but ten to one the company is busy 
 criticising itself according to certain well known formulas, 
 and comes to the same conclusion. Nobody lets this im- 
 pression interfere with the generous enjoyment of the place. 
 It is all like a grand masquerade, and no questions asked. 
 
TROUVILLE BATHERS. 35 
 
 Prim watering-places are not popular in France, whatever 
 may be the sentiment across the channel ; and, to tell the 
 truth, the English, with all their paroxysms of virtue, find 
 evident pleasure on the hard sands of these Normandy re- 
 sorts. In the height of the season I know of no other scene 
 half so entertaining as the bathers make at Trouville. The 
 arrangements in the way of bathing-houses are as complete 
 as those of a ball-room, for the French know how to 
 manage these things better than most people. The variety 
 of costumes that appear on the scene would furnish material 
 for a Dore or a Turner, so bizarre are the designs. The 
 human form appears before the naked eye of heaven, decked 
 in the riotous phantasies of a dream. Things terrestrial and 
 things celestial are brought forth for the morning frolic. 
 All the absurdities of the pantomime are reproduced for 
 the occasion, and spectacular plays are outdone. Hundreds 
 of people of every station in life, from royal dukes and 
 duchesses to the demi monde, plunge into the gushing sea, 
 and disport in common pleasure. Such costumes ! — harle- 
 quins, nuns, lobsters, sea-serpents, fisher-girls, pages, cross- 
 bones and skull, convicts, knights-errant — every conceivable 
 dress, plain, iridescent, and startling. It is refreshing to 
 watch them ; and one can overlook their seeming extrava- 
 gances in toilet later in the day, when one meets the beauty 
 and fashion out on the promenade, or making its way against 
 the playful breezes on the pier. Surely ozone and diamonds 
 invite the world to the sands of Trouville. 
 
 There are so many watering-places dotting the head- 
 lands of this coast, that a person may take his choice, from 
 Dieppe, high priced but delightful, to Cherbourg, the Ports- 
 mouth of France. Then, turning towards the south, the 
 long array of bathing-places ends at Granville, which, up to 
 the time of my visit, had not been seriously invaded by 
 fashion. 
 
36 A ALE SUN D TO TETUAN. 
 
 Progress has plied its magic wand to some purpose in 
 Rouen. Another Paris greets the stranger in search of 
 antiquarian richness, — shops, boulevards, screeching whis- 
 tles, and a ceaseless traffic at every turn. Joan of Arc once 
 dwelt there, but that was centuries ago ; and the gentle 
 smoke that wafted her spirit upward has its counterpart 
 to-day in the black, disagreeable clouds that tell of com- 
 merce and its furious gallopade. The splendid old churches, 
 the Palais de Justice, and a few other ancient edifices, have 
 thus far insisted upon their right to live ; but they bear a 
 sorrowful countenance, and excite commiseration because 
 of their wrinkles and wounds. I presume the cathedral 
 and the clock tower at Rouen will last for years to come ; 
 but really the onward rush of sandstone and plate-glass 
 must create some uncertainty. It would be little less than 
 downright sacrilege for the municipality to tear down the 
 picturesque old tour de la grosse horloge; but, alas ! the 
 skilful hands that gave it so much richness saw proper to 
 place it in a massive arch, which bends over one of the 
 busy streets, where, instead of measuring the lives of men, 
 it seriously impedes their progress. Poor old Temple Bar, 
 with its rugged associations, has disappeared ; and it will 
 not be long before this pride of Rouen will also disappear. 
 
 Under the shadow of the clock-tower a trickling stream 
 invites attention to a medieval fountain of exquisite design, 
 which, like Horace's fountain of Bandusia, has become 
 noble. Garlands innumerable have been honored by being 
 dipped in its crystal waters, and thirsty generations have 
 paused to bless its hospitality. While I stood by it, a 
 shambling and stupid soldier, with hands in his pockets, 
 cast a reproachful glance at this masterpiece, and passed on 
 as if disappointed at not finding a cheap cafe instead. All 
 along this street— it is called the Rue de la Grosse Hor- 
 loge — quaint gables and old-time carvings are everywhere. 
 
ROUEN. 37 
 
 The grand Gothic facade of the cathedral, with its grace- 
 ful traceries and ornamentations, fills the looker-on with 
 admiration. But do not venture too near, for the charm 
 will be dispelled. Like the elaboration of stage settings, 
 it will not bear a too close scrutiny. Like the faces of 
 the Granville fishwomen, it becomes marred and cor- 
 rupted with criss-cross grains and furrows. Let one take 
 a position at a distance from the celebrated facade, and 
 the full splendor of this magnificent work will stand out in 
 all its completeness, leaving on the memory of the beholder 
 an impression never to be forgotten. To me the glory of 
 the cathedral consisted in the great rose-colored windows 
 that admitted the light into the transept. In the delicate 
 tints of the old glass how superb must have been the effect, 
 as holy processions moved slowly through the vaulted aisles, 
 with songs and incense and a bewilderment of glittering 
 candles ! And yet this splendid church is insulted by hav- 
 ing placed upon it a long cast-iron spire, reminding me of a 
 Pennsylvania oil well. This spire raises its impudent head 
 500 feet towards heaven, as if ashamed of the venerable pile 
 on which it rests. As one writer has said, it is a pity that 
 its material insures it against fire. 
 
 St. Ouen is the church of Rouen, and to my mind one of 
 the grandest in Europe. For grace in form and good taste 
 in decoration I have still to behold an edifice that sur- 
 passes it. Its position is such that one may see its beau- 
 ties through the trees of the adjoining park, and from what- 
 ever point one sees it, the same pure outlines appear. The 
 interior is 500 feet long, and unobstructed save by the rows 
 of tall and graceful pillars, which break the delicate flood 
 of colored light streaming in through the strange old dia- 
 pered windows. St. Ouen is the Cleopatra of churches, so 
 eventful and pathetic has been its history. It has suffered 
 from all kinds of foes ever since it was dedicated. The 
 
38 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 middle ages did not spare it, and later wars have bared and 
 bruised its shapely walls with barbarous ferocity. Like the 
 unfortunate queen, its fascination and charms seemed to 
 mark it for destruction. 
 
 The "Maid of Orleans " has been honored with a monu- 
 ment, which rests on the spot where her gentle soul took its 
 flight. As a work of art I tarried but a moment to gaze at 
 it ; then crossed the Place de la Pucelle to the Hotel Bourg- 
 theroulde, one of the 15th century structures, attractive even 
 to-day for the wealth of bas-reliefs that encircle the court- 
 yard. Age has dimmed a few of them ; — knights have lost 
 spears and helmets; ladies, unconscious of any incongruity, 
 are promenading without heads ; while heavily mailed steeds 
 prance contentedly without legs. It is interesting to note 
 the strange pranks time has played w r ith these elaborate 
 figures. 
 
 Hard by is the Palais de Justice with its ancient assize hall. 
 This edifice of gothic design was largely devoted to commer- 
 cial uses, for an assembly of men were busily engaged in 
 carrying on noisy transactions. The Salle des Assises was 
 once the parliament hall of Normandy, but, aside from its 
 purely historical renown, the rich carvings and fretted oaken 
 ceilings alone make it a valuable addition to Rouen. Out 
 in the court-yard the same mania for bas-reliefs shows itself, 
 while overhead a large family of knights and ladies recline 
 in the niches intent on this modern invasion ; but it was not 
 until a party of " Cook's excursionists " made their appear- 
 ance that my attention was particularly called to the gorgon- 
 headed water-spouts peering over the edge of the leaden 
 roofs, vainly endeavoring to follow out the mythological 
 process of turning the new arrivals into stone. 
 
 The valet de place who had me in charge was as enthu- 
 siastic over his calling as a newly made physician. He 
 imparted a fund of anecdote, both medieval and modern, 
 
ROUEN. 39 
 
 and local history was at his fingers' ends. Observing that 
 he limped as he walked, he told me that he was wounded 
 in the late war, which, it will be remembered, raged about 
 Rouen with the real Teuton persistency. The subject of the 
 Franco-Prussian war was his hobby ; he criticized its sali- 
 ent features with the air of a field marshal, and from the 
 lofty tower of St. Ouen, where the landscape is spread 
 put like a map, this veteran showed me the positions of 
 the opposing armies and the successive changes that took 
 place during the hostilities. It was very refreshing to hear 
 him relate his own experiences, what he had done and seen, 
 for our previous intercourse had been wholly on medieval- 
 ism. From William the Conqueror to William the Empe- 
 ror was a long distance, but under the circumstances I 
 welcomed it. 
 
 Down along the docks, where not the faintest trace of 
 Normandy is detected, this indefatigable guide conducted 
 me, explaining, as he limped by my side, what surprising 
 steps commerce had made since he was a boy. 
 
 Rouen has taken a high place among the ports of France, 
 and means to keep it if the activity that met my gaze is any 
 indication of intention. I lodged at a quaint inn, decidedly 
 quaint, where the dame dn comptoir was perched in a lofty 
 pulpit, and where the sanded floor had been ingeniously 
 marked with various designs intended to represent Bacchus 
 gazing at a steamship — an exceedingly original subject, and 
 worthy of attention. The guide told me that his young 
 nephew was the artist, and he evinced considerable pleas- 
 ure at the precocity of his relative. The aged hostelry, with 
 its simple dignity and courtly bed-chambers, was a fitting 
 ending to my saunterings in Normandy, and as I went forth 
 from its hospitable archway and turned my face toward 
 Paris, I felt sure that the most picturesque districts in France 
 lay behind me. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NICE— MONTE CARLO. 
 
 A MONTH later, when the saucy winds and rains made 
 life in Paris a constant struggle for safety and good- 
 nature, I took the train for Nice, the capital of the midi. 
 They call every district in southern France the midi, but 
 the name is more euphonious when applied to the shores of 
 the Mediterranean, where the first soft winds float in from 
 Africa long before they become charged with the tingling 
 atmosphere of central France. 
 
 The train carried me to Nice without mishap, through 
 Marseilles, then along the red hills, picturesque with 
 gnarled olives and sequestered stone houses, through gar- 
 den-like scenery, skirting the classic sea for miles, till 
 finally, as I came nearer my destination, the blue waves 
 almost beat against the rails in their endeavors to be com- 
 panionable — Toulon, Les Arcs with its salubrious climate, 
 Frejus founded by Caesar, Cannes with its migratory col- 
 ony, the most select in Europe, then Nice, the modern 
 Cave of Adullam, whither flock the hilarious and the dis- 
 contented. There the Romans have bestowed their favors, 
 and given the slopes of the adjacent shores a historic charm, 
 which is kindled by the ruins of amphitheatres and temples. 
 
 I met an English lady in the train — a dowager, per- 
 haps — who told me that she had spent many seasons at 
 various places in the Riviera, and that the constantly in- 
 creasing mobs of people were killing all the attractions. 
 Cannes was her destination, and Cannes was the only 
 decent town on the coast. She told me of Nice, when there 
 
NICE. 41 
 
 was nothing beyond the old town, — before the great cara- 
 vansaries and their noisy guests had made existence a bur- 
 den, — and said it was simply charming ; now it is anything 
 but that, and the worst is not yet. Before I had been there 
 a week I saw what she meant, for Nice is anything but 
 simple. It is Paris, London, New York, and St. Peters- 
 burg thawed out. It is the common meeting-place of 
 people away from home, where they are in a great measure 
 relieved of the strait-jackets imposed by venacular society. 
 No wonder Nice is so popular, and the prices of living so 
 exorbitant. Even the shopkeepers are as migratory as the 
 pleasure-seekers ; they come early and stay late ; and when 
 this class packs up, it is a sure sign that the dissolution 
 has taken place. These itinerant merchants represent the 
 best shops in Europe, and their goods are of the finest 
 quality. Like birds, one sees them in the north during 
 summer, — in Geneva, Stockholm, Christiania, Carlsbad, and 
 Baden, — and in winter, in these sunny resorts of the south. 
 Jewelry, wood-carvings, and furs, with an occasional 
 modiste and tailor, constitute the commercial colony of 
 Nice ; and when one pauses to consider what a comprehen- 
 sive display these combined windows make, there is no 
 need of mentioning the English apothecaries and the Amer- 
 ican bar-tenders, whose ubiquity sends them Niceward. 
 Each nation carries its gods to Nice, so that the pleasures of 
 exile may not be embittered by the pangs of forgotten 
 necessities. Vodki and prime cocktails may be had, and 
 the red pyramids of Bass adorn cafes and grocery shops. 
 
 Nice is a fertile field for missionary work, but neither 
 during my stay nor since have I heard of its vigorous prose- 
 cution. The trouble seems to be that the climate and the 
 surroundings are opposed to attempts tending to hard work 
 of any but a secular kind. 
 
 I had an excellent opportunity to see the way in which 
 
42 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the winter visitors gradually took possession of the city, for 
 I was one of the first to arrive, and I only departed when 
 the shops began to show a jaded and half-forsaken appear- 
 ance. I found the season in its infancy ; I left it in its 
 decline. Kind friends had provided me with letters to our 
 consul, Mr. Vesey, and the pleasures of my sojourn in Nice 
 were in a great measure due to the thoughtful nature of that 
 genial gentleman, whose recent death has been sincerely 
 regretted by many friends on both sides of the Atlantic. 
 
 History is rapidly made at Nice, and the consul related 
 many interesting stories of his experiences with his fellow- 
 countrymen and countrywomen. Those homelike parlors 
 on the £hiai du midi are happily blessed with silent walls, 
 but the tales they have listened to would fill a volume. 
 Monte Carlo is near enough to exercise its baneful influence 
 in more than one way, and the right kind of consul is a 
 better confessor than a holy father. Even the city clubs, of 
 which there are several, allow gambling, and in the hotels 
 the Puritan and the black-leg sit side by side. Once in 
 Nice, and the fascination of playing seizes hold of those 
 whose whole lives have been a protest against such weak- 
 ness, and they enter into the sport with all the zeal of 
 neophytes. The evident difference between these Nicene 
 players and those pilgrims who toil up the rosy paths of 
 Monte Carlo is merely a matter of degree : one gambles for 
 fun and francs, the other for gain alone. I remained long 
 enough to see many shades of indulgence, and never have I 
 heard casuistry discussed with so much self-satisfaction. 
 Of course the laws are rigorous against gambling, but the 
 eyes of Justice were never more tightly bound than in this 
 sunlit province. Neither can she hear the ivory balls rattle 
 into their little cells, for her ears are filled with strains of 
 enchanting music. The evasion of the Maine liquor law is 
 not more complete than these Riviera performances. 
 
NICE. 43 
 
 But Nice has also the fascination of lovely scenery. In 
 any direction the walks and the drives are full of charm, 
 both of land and sea. Half the people speak Italian, and 
 say Nizza instead of Nice; it sounds more musical, and 
 makes one think it is farther away from home. 
 
 It does not go amiss for visitors to have a few select 
 Italian phrases with which to regale the natives, but first 
 be sure he is of that way of speaking ; they like to feel that 
 they are as important as the rival French, and that their 
 language is in the mouths of strangers. Ever since Napo- 
 leon — the nephew — laid hold of Nice as a part of his war 
 booty, there has rankled an inextinguishable fury in Italian 
 breasts, which time has not wholly allayed. To have 
 Garibaldi's birthplace pass into the hands of the French 
 wounded Savoy pride to the quick, and when we look it all 
 over, it does seem unjust. The old town is unmistakably 
 Italian, with narrow streets, rough with cobbles, and al- 
 most entirely dedicated to men, women, and children, for 
 horses and cabs are voted trespassers, and are kept out. 
 Above the house-tops, or shop-tops, extends a long and 
 wide promenade, whence one gets the seaside laundry 
 scenes of Nice and the noisy and ceaseless hubbub of the 
 crowded streets below. This elevated boulevard is made 
 safe by parapets sufficiently high to keep one from tum- 
 bling over, and there on a pleasant morning I used to stroll 
 and watch the interesting theatre of the people. 
 
 At the further end of this house-top walk is the shapely 
 Chateau Hill, with its tumble-down fortress, the work of 
 Louis XIV ; but, with true French adaptation, the battered 
 casemates and the mouldering parade have been transformed 
 into a most charming esplanade, somewhat like the Dur- 
 ham Terrace at Quebec, bordered by an abundance of palms 
 and aloes, which afford a grateful shade in sunny days. 
 From the platform the entire surroundings of Nice are 
 
44 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 spread out, and the panorama is generous enough to 
 include Antibes and the Alps. Here one meets the towns- 
 people and the foreign birds of passage, who love to 
 linger over the attractions of Chateau Hill. On Sundays 
 this promenade is crowded, and under the magic influence 
 of the military band dancing parties spring up, and the 
 assemblage assumes an unwonted gayety. The French 
 evidently believe that Sunday was made for man, and they 
 practise it. 
 
 Nice is not so new as to be wanting in Roman remains ; 
 and besides these, hard by Phoenicians have left their traces 
 in this winter-Paris. On one of the hills overlooking the 
 town a Roman amphitheatre still attracts hundreds of visit- 
 ors. The Carabacel highway runs across the ring, where, 
 in days gone, the fighters used to slay and be slayed. It is 
 harmless now, and the taciturn driver will, if you get senti- 
 mental, pause in his journey and permit you to inspect the 
 desolation. Times have indeed changed when a new civil- 
 ization sits in its cabs at so much an hour and contemplates 
 the irregular rows of stone seats that encircle the old ruin. 
 The size of the amphitheatre makes it evident that no great 
 combinations ever performed in it. The space is not large 
 enough to butcher many lions or carve up many captive 
 Christians at once : still, the old barbarians may not have 
 been particular as to quantity. But the aged masonry is 
 sadly going the way of the world ; grass grows in the crev- 
 ices, and damp moss thrives in the sun-denied angles and 
 ante-rooms. 
 
 The cloister of the old Franciscan monastery, hard by the 
 Roman ruins, is lonely indeed, but the square, well in the 
 centre of the little court, lends a certain charm to the soli- 
 tary surroundings. Around this fountain birds twitter, and 
 wake the solemn silence as if they wanted to teach free- 
 dom to the pious brotherhood ; but they have had their 
 
NICE. 45 
 
 noisy frolics for centuries, and the venerable institution still 
 sleeps on. 
 
 The church is gloomy, and the few faint candles on the 
 altar threw weird and fitful glances into the deep recesses. 
 The monotonous intonation of a brother at prayer caught 
 my ear, and in the deepening shades I made out his 
 form. There he was, praying to God that virtue might be 
 given to all mankind, and only a mile away the most terri- 
 ble maelstrom vice ever knew insults heaven with its up- 
 roar. For centuries these holy men, with brown gowns 
 corded at the waist, have told their beads with unfailing 
 regularity ; their lives have been spent within the gloom of 
 convent walls ; and when death at length has overtaken 
 them, the little plot outside has received all that was mortal. 
 I hope the influence of these monks of Cimies may be as 
 powerful as the surroundings are sweet, for on this sightly 
 elevation one seems suspended between earth and paradise. 
 
 Cimies must have been popular with the Romans, owing 
 to its location, for within a short distance of the monastery 
 are the ruins of a city and the visible traces of temples and 
 baths. Indeed, what a superb sanitarium Cimies afforded 
 to those fearless fighters, who, wounded in the sports of the 
 amphitheatre, might nurse their mangled bodies under the 
 balmy influences of these sun-bathed heights. 
 
 Unlike the descent into Avernus, the return to Nice is 
 not easy, that is to say, the motion is not exactly cradleish ; 
 still its discomforts are of short duration as the cocker urges 
 his horse past wayside shrines whose worshippers pause in 
 their devotions to look at us, then through dusty hedges, 
 half concealing the orange groves and villas beyond, and 
 out on the dusty embankment of the Paillon, whose bed is 
 full of sand and pebbles, so that fishing, the self-appointed 
 recreation of the average citizen, is utterly discouraged, 
 while navigation is not to be mentioned. In the middle of 
 
46 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 its broad bed a small and insignificant brook steals slug- 
 gishly on its way, but is not quick enough to elude the 
 army of washerwomen who nearly succeed in choking out 
 its life with their loads of linen. 
 
 Another turn, and the colony of laundry-women is left 
 behind, and we rattle over the bad pavements of the old 
 town, and then come out on the gay promenade, with its 
 crowds of pleasure-seekers. Now we are in the Nice of 
 modern times: the gardens are brilliant with rank and 
 fashion, all listening to the latest opera airs as they eddy out 
 over the still, warm atmosphere, while carriages innumer- 
 able block the wide boulevard ; and beyond, next to the 
 splashing waves, the esplanade is radiant with the gayest of 
 the gay. 
 
 As a health resort, Nice does not enjoy the distinction 
 accorded to Cannes or Mentone. The winds are more vio- 
 lent, and the temperature more subject to sudden change ; 
 but for the tired body, longing for rest and mild indulgence 
 in the excitement of living. I commend this elegant town, 
 stretching along the crescent shores of the classic sea, where 
 art and nature have showered their charms until the taste is 
 almost surfeited. It is one of those laughing nooks of the 
 earth, where 
 
 " Jove accords a lengthening Spring, 
 And Winter 's wanting Winter's sting." 
 
 Of course Monte Carlo lay within my plans. Why not? 
 All Americans ask themselves the same question when they 
 stand in the shadows of the bold promontory that once shel- 
 tered the Grimaldis, and I have observed they generally 
 answer it by going up the marble steps. Our more virtuous 
 British cousins literally encamp on the sunny slopes of 
 Monaco ; they have even gone so far as to erect a chapel 
 in which to record their vows, provided they need record- 
 ing; and here in this exquisite Eden the sons of Adam dwell 
 
MONTE CARLO. 47 
 
 in tempting proximity to the forbidden fruit. All national- 
 ities, from the Russian to the Sandwich Islander, help form 
 the promiscuous throng that pours over the terraces from 
 midday to midnight. The inhabitants of Monaco and the 
 Alps Maritime, which embraces Nice and most of the re- 
 sorts along the neighboring shores, are forbidden to pass the 
 softly swinging gates that lead to this elysium : these favored 
 citizens may revel in the luxuriance of the gardens or drink 
 in the inspiration of the orchestra, but they may not enter 
 the famous Egyptian hall where little ivory balls perform 
 their noisy tattoos. This exemption does not in the slightest 
 degree affect the income of the bank, for the people who 
 form the bone and muscle of the interdicted localities have 
 no money to spend in the pursuit of so gorgeous a sylph as 
 the handmaid of M. Blanc. Monte Carlo is only one of the 
 spots where the universal passion of man comes to the sur- 
 face and shows itself — nothing more. The Empire drove 
 M. Blanc from his German possessions, and he brought 
 his ivory gods and glittering temples to this earthly para- 
 dise, through whose groves the modern Hydaspes brings its 
 yearly tribute. 
 
 M. Blanc must have been a man gifted with rare business 
 foresight and sagacity, or he would never have chosen this 
 out-of-the-way spot for his bank. At the time of his ad- 
 vent the Riviera was not a Mecca as it now is, but rather a 
 way-station for those going to Italy ; and as for Monte Carlo, 
 the people of the town of Monaco used to pity anybody 
 unfortunate enough to dwell upon its sides. It was nothing 
 more than a rugged hill, running up back of the town, and 
 so rough with ledges and rocks that the gymnastic goat 
 might have felt uneasy on his excursions. Certainly the 
 few thousand inhabitants clustered at its base did not put 
 much value on it. But, Presto, change — and what a trans- 
 formation ! And all in twenty years. The most celebrated 
 
48 AALKSUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 landscape gardeners of Europe levelled the uneven surface, 
 until now one finds only plateaus, terraces, pavilions ; de- 
 lightful paths bordered with geraniums and heliotropes and 
 camellias ; while within the great conservatories the rarest 
 plants flourish, in blissful ignorance of what they adorn. 
 Architects, too costly for kings, have fairly revelled in their 
 extravagances of design, and legions of artists of every 
 calling have elaborated their works in ebony and gold. 
 Splendid pavilions with richest merchandise allure the 
 visitor, and hotels rivalling in excellence the favored cafes 
 of Paris tempt a sojourn amid the dangerous paths and 
 flowers. Shooting-matches are arranged, and the best 
 marksmen of the world compete for the valuable prizes 
 offered by the management, and swimming-baths furnish 
 agreeable waters to cool excited nerves and to steady them 
 for the battle of trente et quarante later on. Every franc 
 planted in this soil has yielded abundant return in the way 
 of making the place so irresistible that the wandering 
 Ulysses succumbs to the spell, and stops. Here, on the 
 sunlit rocks, heaven and art have been married and made 
 one. 
 
 The history of Monaco comes slowly out of the mists of 
 antiquity, unfolding leaf by leaf, until its chapter in the 
 annals of nations is nearly complete. In the last century 
 or two this small state has been battledored by Spain, 
 Italy, and France, until nothing but the town of Monaco 
 and this splendid home of the sorcerers is left to the heir 
 of the Grimaldis. Notwithstanding all this spoliation, 
 Prince Charles is not downcast, neither does he lie awake 
 nights meditating on some prodigious scheme of revenge 
 on those wicked neighbors who have divided his birthright. 
 Oh ! no ; he spends his time in princely pursuits, and, de- 
 spite the crown, his aged head rests easily. He is at peace 
 with all the world, and, being actually blind, does not see 
 
MONACO. 49 
 
 the goings-on at M. Blanc's dazzling establishment; and if 
 he did, it would make no difference. So far as Charles 
 is concerned, he has no more power to interfere with the busi- 
 ness or management of the Casino than with the affairs of the 
 Bank of England. He granted a charter or concession to M. 
 Blanc, guaranteeing the latter absolute control of the dis- 
 trict comprised in Monte Carlo, reserving to himself, of 
 course, political and military jurisdiction, which practically 
 amounts to nothing. So, then, the owner of the Casino is 
 absolute monarch of all he surveys, and the moral tempests 
 every now and then generated in England and France pass 
 lightly over his possessions, without so much as rustling the 
 slender stalks of the camellias. Of course the price for such 
 a franchise is large, — how much I am unable to say, but 
 large enough to maintain the prince, his army, navy, courts, 
 schools, religion, and local burdens, in fact his entire prin- 
 cipality, without levying the slightest tax. What a Utopian 
 realm is Monaco, with all the bounties of heaven and not 
 an assessor or tax collector ! In view of these supernal 
 privileges, earthly morality must present itself to the Mon- 
 acoite in a strangely altered aspect. 
 
 Monaco furnishes a good study of microcosm, for it has 
 all the appliances essential to great empires. All the wheels 
 found in well equipped governments have their places and 
 perform their appointed functions here, as well as in Italy 
 or France. There is a prime minister, who sits at the head 
 of the cabinet table and yawns ; there is a council of 
 state, comprising several distinguished members ; high 
 courts of judicature ; and a state religion under the charge 
 of a bishop. About the time M. Blanc arrived herewith 
 his roulette wheels, Pius IX honored Monaco by making it a 
 see by itself — a strange coincidence, surely ; but the bishop's 
 name is followed by the words in fiartibus, which in this 
 case are very suggestive. In the palace, which is sump- 
 
50 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 tuously furnished, reside a brilliant crowd of secretaries, 
 chamberlains, almoners, chaplains, and military aids, who 
 carry more gold lace and heavy trappings on their persons 
 than it had ever been my fortune to behold. One is un- 
 certain whether to give a fee or make a salaam. I gen- 
 erally found, however, when in doubt, that it was safe to 
 adopt the first course. Pomp and ceremony flourish with 
 a vigor that would drive the prim old German court into 
 diplomatic hysterics : it is a constant scraping and bowing, 
 from the peasant up to the marquis quelque chose who holds 
 the keys of the princely domains. The standing army is an 
 adaptation from the French, and consists of sixty-five sol- 
 diers and several times as many officers, while the navy is 
 modelled after ours in America. There are admirals, com- 
 modores, and captains, but not a ship of any rating. The 
 national gendarmerie wear three-cornered hats and the 
 same kind of uniform, even to the moustache and imperial, 
 as the French officials of the same rank, so it is next to 
 impossible to tell when one enters Monaco. Nothing, I 
 believe, would indicate the fact if it were not for the stam- 
 pede that takes place when the train-men sing out " Monte 
 Carlo." 
 
 Charles has constructed his government on the most 
 approved Gallic principles, and has, it is said, a leaning 
 towards that country. It is related that the prince declared 
 for neutrality during the late Franco-Prussian war — a pro- 
 ceeding that advanced him very high in the estimation of 
 Mr. Chancellor Bismarck, and rendered lighter the trials of 
 Fatherland. French money is commonly used, although 
 the prince has a gold coin of his own which faithfully por- 
 trays his features on one side, while on the reverse is the 
 Grimaldi coat of arms. The coat of arms represents a 
 shield supported by two men with clubs in their hands. 
 Thus it will be seen that history repeats itself. The pro- 
 
MONTE CARLO. 5 1 
 
 genitors of the house depended on clubs, and so does their 
 living descendant, although diamonds, hearts, and spades 
 figure equally to his temporal advantage. 
 
 But let us return to Monte Carlo. You may sit in the 
 gorgeous marble halls and listen to the sweetest music in 
 Europe, and like many good travellers confine your curios- 
 ity to a mere peep into the splendid room with its rich 
 frescos and bizarre decorations, and then pass the remain- 
 ing hours of your stay in the innocent pleasures of the 
 orchestra, in the reading-room — for the Casino is not un- 
 mindful that books may be prized by its votaries — or in 
 sauntering through the perfumed gardens where virtue and 
 sin meet face to face, only to disappear among the winding 
 walks. If you care to enter the hall, you must leave your 
 hats and outer garments, umbrellas and canes, with the 
 porter, and then apply to the superintendent for a permit. 
 This is not altogether an idle form. The management is 
 strict, and you must give your name, country, age, and tem- 
 porary residence, or the card will be denied you. Children 
 and youths are admitted under no circumstances ; they must 
 content themselves with the picture-books in the library. If 
 the examination is satisfactory, the secretary hands out a 
 card containing your name, with a number which tags you 
 and serves to identify your body in case of sudden death. 
 The system of the Cercle des Etrangers is absolutely per- 
 fect ; even the undertakers' department is under the same 
 admirable supervision, and the bodies of the poor suicides 
 are properly cared for. A servant opens the elaborately 
 inlaid door, and you enter the Moorish hall. This is a large 
 room, with curiously carved ceilings and walls, which with 
 the ingenious designs are intended to represent as closely as 
 possible the originals at the Alhambra, and the floor is ot 
 highly polished wood, which shines like ice under the 
 magic influence of the lamps. The furniture consists of the 
 
52 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 long, green-covered gambling tables and their complement 
 of chairs, while ranged around the sides are sofas and 
 divans, and a profusion of tropical plants. The servants 
 are dressed in the showy livery of the Blanc family, and 
 perform their duties with noiseless footsteps. The affairs 
 of the place are conducted with the regularity and precision 
 indicated by the monotonous tick of the handsome clock 
 on the marble mantel at the end of the hall. Soon after 
 noon the players begin to arrive, and the game does not lag, 
 save at the dinner hour, until midnight, when the crowd 
 rushes for its wraps, and hurries down the broad steps to 
 catch the last train for Nice. 
 
 There were six tables in the room, two being devoted to 
 rouge et noir, the others to the more popular game of 
 roulette ; but business was fast increasing, and now there 
 may be a dozen tables. Rouge et noir attracted the older 
 and more reckless players, for the stakes are higher and 
 the game requires considerable experience ; but roulette is 
 admirably adapted to the novice and the man of small 
 means. There are so many combinations and alluring 
 chances in roulette, that the four tables are frequently sur- 
 rounded with several rows of anxious players, and it is then 
 necessary politely to request the persons nearest the cloth 
 to make bets for you. There is no credit system at Monte 
 Carlo. The money must be placed on the tables, and once 
 placed there must not be removed. When the customers 
 have made their bets, the banker cries out " Le jeu est 
 fait 7-ien ne va fins" and the wheel of fortune is set in rapid 
 motion, the ball drops into the groove around the edge 
 where it runs like a race-horse until the impetus grows 
 weaker and weaker, when it falls into one of the thirty-five 
 little stalls into which the wheel is divided ; and then that 
 particular game is ended. The keen-eyed banker announces 
 the result, and with the quick assistance of the croupiers 
 
GAMBLING. 53 
 
 rakes in the gold and paper belonging to the bank, and then 
 proceeds to pay the fortunate players the amount of their 
 winnings. The dexterity with which the bankers fling the 
 coins down the table on the exact spot required surpasses any 
 legerdemain I ever saw. They rarely miss the object, so un- 
 erring is their aim. Men and women play with an intensity 
 that makes one shudder. They are professionals, probably, 
 and are always cool and calculating. They watch the prog- 
 ress of every game, carefully keeping count on small tablets 
 by pricking a hole as the ball records its vagaries, and when 
 the calculation is made they cover some number or color 
 with their money, and mechanically await the favors of the 
 fickle marble. Their countenances are no tell-tales of their 
 feelings, and if they lose heavily they are not despondent 
 and reckless ; they merely leave the ill-luck until another 
 time, and stroll out into the starry night, or eat ices in the 
 cafe. 
 
 Unfortunately all who risk their Napoleons are not so 
 evenly balanced in mind and body, and it is these that 
 emphasize the terror of the game. I said to a croupier one 
 night, "Why is it that the bank makes so much when its 
 chances are so small?" He smiled and said, "Monsieur, if 
 those that won never came back to lose, the bank would 
 close." This is the secret in a few words ; it is the fascina- 
 tion of play and the love of gain that makes the bank rich. 
 My observation of this resort was not confined to one visit, 
 but to many ; and I am free to say that a large proportion of 
 the money left there does not come from professional gam- 
 blers, but rather from the opposite class. Most respectable 
 ladies and gentlemen edge up to the green tables and drop 
 their gold on some favorite combination ; and never yet have 
 I seen these philanthropic reformers in exile neglect to 
 gather in the profits awarded them. I am sure if it were 
 not for these migratory bands of hypocrites, the showers of 
 
54 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 gold would not be so abundant. Here is what the British 
 consul at Nice says : "In England a public opinion hostile 
 to Monaco does, no doubt, exist ; but it is nevertheless a 
 fact, notorious to all living along the Riviera, that, instead of 
 Monte Carlo being shunned as a plague spot by respectable 
 English people, it is, on the contrary, thronged with them, 
 and is rapidly becoming a fashionable English watering- 
 place. . . . No less than i ,406 of our countrymen and 
 countrywomen sojourned at the different hotels of Monte 
 Carlo from the 1st of October, 1882, to the 1st of March, 
 
 1883." 
 
 Italy and France manifest considerable solicitude about 
 the Monte Carlo question, more perhaps than seems consist- 
 ent, and England continues to shiver at the sin while per- 
 spiring at the sport. The kingdom on one side helps 
 support itself by the sale of lottery tickets stamped with the 
 royal seal, so the weight of its moral force as regards gam- 
 bling may be lightly estimated ; then, on the other side, 
 republican France presents a fine picture of gay spirits 
 gathered around the roulette tables of private clubs. As 
 for American morality, I have nothing to say. 
 
 With such neighbors as Italy and France, I do not won- 
 der that the establishment, hidden amid the cactus plants, 
 feels secure in its position and certain in its income. The 
 glittering theatre, where the finest singers and actors inspire 
 and charm fashionable audiences night after night, is the 
 direct creature of the Casino, and so are the other amuse- 
 ments on land and sea. All these attractions are too pow- 
 erful to be easily pushed aside, and yet it is all the song of 
 the same old sirens. This age of reform and moral princi- 
 ples sends its yearly increasing swarms to Monaco, the 
 nations are bewitched, and up through the flowering paths, 
 to strains of enchanting music, they wend their way to the 
 ebony portals and into the fatal presence. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 GENOA— NAPLES. 
 
 GENOA is really beautiful, and no wonder she is glad 
 to be called the u Proud." Her history has been the 
 story of tireless devotion to liberty, to enterprise, and to 
 commerce, and her citizens have made her name honored 
 throughout the world. To-day her trade is not what it 
 used to be ; but she is not idle, nor does she sleep in business 
 hours. Her merchants are alert, and their flags fly from 
 many a masthead. 
 
 The celebrated marble palaces, with their wealth of de- 
 sign and ornamentation, the pride of centuries gone, are, 
 many of them, still standing in all their glory, to testify to 
 the power and opulence of Genoa in the days when brave 
 Andrea Doria sailed to meet the Turk at Lepanto. Their 
 gorgeous halls no longer resound with the mirth and music 
 of princely banquets ; their rich tapestries are either wo- 
 fully faded and worn, or entirely gone ; and save the tramp 
 of the custodians, or the rush of business, the spacious court- 
 yards are silent. Many of these masterpieces of architec- 
 ture have, by the requirements of business, been transformed 
 into a strange and unnatural existence. The Balbi and the 
 Nuova are rich in palatial architecture, each possessing an 
 unusual number of beautiful facades, showing the resources 
 of that brilliant era when the magnificence of Genoa and 
 the valor of its citizens were by-words even to the savages 
 across the sea. A strong passion for coloring was a pecu- 
 liarity of the early builders, and it is common to see great 
 palaces painted red, green, blue, and yellow, the latter 
 
56 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 color being - an especial favorite ; and yet, strange as this 
 lavishment of the brush may at first seem, the effect, when 
 heightened by the bright sunshine, is fascinating. The 
 grouping of the palaces lends an additional charm, as each 
 stands out as if independent of companionship, so that, as I 
 paused in the streets to survey the long rows of splendid 
 edifices, with various designs and singular colors blazoned 
 over their wide fronts, I quickly experienced a mild attack 
 of that enthusiasm that belongs to the true Genoese. 
 
 Even down along the water front these splendid facades 
 meet the eye, but, alas ! they have become contaminated 
 with the turmoil of the mart, and have taken in lodgers in 
 the guise of counting-rooms, banks, and shipping agencies. 
 But kindly Fate has preserved the picturesque palace of 
 Andrea Doria, the George Washington of his country, and 
 it stands like a sentinel on a slight elevation commanding a 
 clear sweep of those blue waters that made its honored owner 
 so famous among the heroes of history. Among the churches 
 of Genoa is a conglomerate edifice known as Saint Lorenzo, 
 made attractive, and perhaps noble, by columns, jewels, 
 chapels, sculptures, and paintings. I sauntered through 
 the gloomy naves, past the priests and their kneeling wor- 
 shippers, and into the choir, where I saw exquisite speci- 
 mens of wood-carvings. There was one panel represent- 
 ing a bird in a cage, and I had to rub my fingers over 
 the imaginary wires in order to convince my doubting dis- 
 position. The little bird did not stir, nor has it for centu- 
 ries. The one feature of Saint Lorenzo that I bear most 
 vividly in my memory is the gorgeous chapel of Saint John. 
 My guide had been trying to explain some regulation — he 
 spoke, by the by, in Genoese-Basque — concerning this rich- 
 ly adorned chapel, but I was unable to understand what he 
 meant. Suddenly he pulled me violently by the sleeve, and, 
 from ear to ear, pointed to one of my country- 
 
SAINT LORENZO. 57 
 
 women, whom a saturnine priest was pushing back from 
 the steps. She was denouncing the gowned functionary 
 in permissible English, and he answered back in rapid 
 Italian. This international episode aroused my lagging 
 curiosity, and I inquired the cause. She said she had at- 
 tempted to enter the chapel, and the priest refused to allow 
 her : hence the scene. Now, this chapel is dedicated to 
 Saint John, and women are not permitted to profane it by 
 their presence except on one day in the year, and the day of 
 her visit did not happen to be that day. Since Saint John 
 lost his head, the holy fathers have regarded the fair sex 
 with a certain degree of suspicion, which manifests itself in 
 small persecutions of this nature. The daughter of Herodias 
 little dreamed that her essay in decollation would, many years 
 after, rouse to passion the resentment of an American lady 
 in fashionable attire. In the memorial chapel to Saint John 
 are several precious relics, among them the sacro cativo, 
 and the plate from which Christ ate the paschal lamb ; but 
 I saw them not, and I began to feel like the repulsed female, 
 who stood in the deep shadows of the nave busily engaged 
 in studying her red-covered guide-book. I was told these 
 treasures were captured during the crusades and brought 
 back to Italy, and that they were not publicly exhibited. 
 
 I peeped into the Jesuit church of Saint Ambrogio, the 
 most ornate in Genoa. The mosaics are superb, but the 
 especial charm is the highly colored frescoing as I saw it 
 under the influence of the noon-day sun, which brought out 
 the dull tints, mingling them in the most dazzling confu- 
 sion imaginable, and highly increasing the splendor of the 
 painter's art. 
 
 From the churches to the narrow street, resplendent with 
 silver shops, is not far, and my guide — sly dog he was — 
 thought to have me make some purchases, so that he might 
 reap a liberal commission ; but I disappointed him. I was 
 
 3* 
 
58 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 pleased with what I saw, for Genoa's filagree work is well 
 known, and here in these small shops the most beautiful 
 designs are ingeniously wrought out in gossamer-like strands 
 and fibres, all so delicate looking that a breath might seri- 
 ously damage them or perhaps blow them away. If the 
 sunshine could only get into these argentine quarters, it 
 would cover the dainty trinkets with a shower of snow- 
 flakes so irresistibly fascinating that the most obdurate 
 tourist would buy in spite of himself; but the houses are 
 high, and the little sunshine that dares venture there does 
 not penetrate farther than the upper stories. 
 
 Genoa, old as it is, has paid attention to new streets, wide 
 and well kept, some of them leading to the park of Aqua 
 Sola, where the liberty-loving Genoese spend their evenings 
 promenading to the lively airs of the military band. The 
 city is situated in an amphitheatre-like curve, rising grace- 
 fully from the sea, and its back is sheltered by the Apen- 
 nines, while in the distance the lofty peaks of the Alps show 
 their snows all the year round. Winding in semi-circular 
 track are sturdy fortifications. Some of them are moss- 
 grown and russet-colored, while others are modern, so that 
 with its harbor defences Genoa is one of the best fortified 
 places in the world. 
 
 The poorer the country, the more numerous the soldiers 
 and priests. In England both these classes are reduced to 
 their minimum, in France the increase is marked, while 
 here in the realms of King Humbert the streets literally 
 swarm with troopers and ecclesiastics. I must confess the 
 scenery of these ancient towns would lose much of its inter- 
 esting detail if there were no soldiers lounging about, or 
 marching up the crooked and narrow streets to the fanfare 
 of the bugle. 
 
 My day in Genoa was ended, and I reluctantly left its 
 charms and palaces for the more renowned attractions of 
 
NAPLES. 59 
 
 Naples, whither I was borne in a steamer bound for the 
 Levant. The shallowness of the Mediterranean harbor does 
 not allow of quays, but imposes on the traveller a disagree- 
 able journey in a small boat. This necessary marine adven- 
 ture becomes morbid in a dark night, when the course winds 
 in and out through hundreds of craft, with flashing lights 
 swung fore and aft to puzzle the stout Ligurian boatman. 
 The hoarse Genoese is neither musical nor romantic while 
 tossing about the harbor in the gloom of night. Once aboard 
 the steamer, and the twinkling lights of the town seemed 
 like an illumination, or a scene from the latest spectacular. 
 One by one they disappeared, or moved past as in proces- 
 sion, until our altered course blotted them from my vision. 
 
 What a storm we had in going to Naples ! Of course 
 the captain repeated the time-worn formula by telling us 
 that it was "the worst he had ever experienced," but I 
 didn't believe it. Still the " Sagesta " was banged about 
 that night as she never was before. 
 
 The next morning we had either sailed out of the storm, 
 or the tempest had abated, for the sea and sky were master- 
 pieces of beauty, and our sail along the coast gave me a 
 lively anticipation of that gorgeous Italy I had so often read 
 about. Toward sunset we entered the Bay of Naples, that 
 sparkling basin, half encircled by the exquisite curve of the 
 shores, which extend like shapely arms around the city. 
 Vesuvius was in a state of maudlin activity, and occasion- 
 ally belched out flames for my edification, but the exhibi- 
 tion was not terrifically grand as I had hoped for, and there 
 was no way to touch it up. Among our passengers was an 
 American who felt the slight very deeply, and he insisted 
 on comparing the crater and its lurid flashes with one of his 
 small blast furnaces at home. 
 
 The steamer lay all night in the harbor, and a noisy place 
 it was. Sleep would not visit our ship, nor the custom 
 
60 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 officers either — so there was no help : we had to endure the 
 inconvenience. I did not regret it, for the encircling hills 
 were resplendent with the lights of the great city ; and in 
 the faintness of the night Vesuvius sent forth its intermittent 
 tongues of fire, shooting them up into the skies, then as sud- 
 denly subsiding into the friendly shades, — but all night long 
 the straggling array of gaslights, so generously sprinkled 
 along the quays and in the hilly and winding streets of the 
 town, twinkled and sparkled as if glad of their office. 
 
 I should recommend entering Italy through the Bay of 
 Naples, and making that city the starting-point for subsequent 
 wanderings. My reasons are two-fold. In the first place, 
 the scenery about Naples is unsurpassed, and it bursts upon 
 virgin eyes with all its glories ; you have come into a new 
 land, and are full of anticipations, and eager to see and to 
 do. The marvellous loveliness of land and sea and sky 
 reaches its perfection here, and your soul, once filled with 
 its images and memories, will never admit a rival ; — so, then, 
 see Naples first, then live to see Italy. My second reason 
 is purely physical. In no city in Italy that I visited is there 
 so much to do in the way of excursions as there is about the 
 Neapolitan capital. Not to see these historical landmarks 
 is wholly inexcusable, provided one has the strength ; and 
 so, by all means, come to Naples when you are fresh, and 
 the ascent of Vesuvius, the sail to Capri and the Blue 
 Grotto, to Ischia and its baths, the rides to Pozzuoli, Baja, 
 Cumae, the classic Avernus, Bacoli, Herculaneum, Pompeii, 
 and the orange groves of Sorrento, will not weary you. Go 
 to Naples by sea, and enter Italy through its most beautiful 
 gateway. 
 
 The sea journey has its disadvantages, and all is not rose- 
 colored. Nothing short of the most Christian resignation 
 can withstand the vexations and turmoils of landing. Our 
 cabin passengers were not numerous, but the landing steps 
 
NAPLES. 6 1 
 
 at the custom-house were crowded to the water's edge with 
 a rabble of hotel porters, boatmen, loafers, thieves, beggars, 
 and every other known species of movable pests. They 
 threw themselves upon us, seized our trunks and travelling 
 bags, and, like ravenous wolves in Siberia, fought over each 
 piece, but, alas ! unlike the wolves, they did not kill each 
 other. In order to avoid delay and unpleasant scrutiny on 
 the part of European custom officers, you must have thirty 
 pieces of silver in your pocket all the time. Such tribula- 
 tion seasons one's experience, and gives a zest to life. 
 These initiatory ceremonies are not without their lessons, 
 for having once passed through, all will be easier the next 
 time : at all events, you are better prepared to take care of 
 yourself, as you have some idea of what to do. Be philoso- 
 phic and firm, and you will be the better for it. 
 
 From the landing to my hotel — the Bristol, excellently 
 kept, and well situated on the Corso Victor Emanule — I 
 saw the hideous face of Naples in all its disgusting dirt and 
 blotches. What a sight ! On one side the tideless sea, 
 crowded with sails innumerable, lay blinking in the morning 
 sun ; on the other, a long, unbroken line of wretched habi- 
 tations, black with age and filth, looming up six or seven 
 stories — vast layers of pens, where dwell countless thousands 
 of Naples poor. How they manage to live, huddled in 
 sickening confusion, is more than I want to know. That 
 they live is bad enough. The row of houses is broken with 
 zigzag passages or narrow lanes, and a moment's glance 
 reveals the depth of this misery. These rents in the walls 
 and passages lead into gloom more horrible. They are criss- 
 crossed with clothes-lines, upon which sag the sparse wash- 
 ings of the poor. When the weather becomes warm — and 
 it is generally comfortable in the sunshine all winter long — 
 these romantic lazzaroni crawl out of their caves and dens to 
 seek the grateful blessing of its warmth. They appear to live 
 
62 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 entirely out of doors, though a reasonably severe shower 
 will send them under shelter quicker than anything yet 
 known. They detest water. Their persons are so en- 
 crusted with layers of the earth's surface, that cold winds 
 have little effect on them. As I rode along that morning, 
 the sidewalks were alive with bareheaded women, engaged 
 in spinning or knitting, or in roasting chestnuts, while 
 groups of ragged children circled about them. The usual 
 tonsorial exhibition was ever present, and the docility with 
 which the urchins submitted to the maternal search for the 
 insect was very beautiful. At first this public exhibition 
 used to stop me, but the process was too frequently seen to 
 occasion more than a temporary attention, and in a day or 
 two flea-baiting lost its originality. I must say the women 
 were more addicted to work than the men, for the latter, 
 rugged and indolent, lay sprawled out over the pavements, 
 unconcerned as to all mundane things, and, I presume, 
 were perfectly happy in their torpidity. The filth that 
 naturally accumulates along the docks, the world over, is 
 most intolerable in Naples, but no one seems to mind it. 
 The best plan for cleansing the city would be, first, to exile 
 these plague-breeding citizens to some distant isle, and 
 then proceed to raze every one of these dilapidated tene- 
 ment-houses to the ground. So this picture of misery and 
 squalor followed me with its hideous face almost to the very 
 threshold of my hotel, disappearing as I came to the royal 
 palace and the Piazza del Plebiscito, then showing itself 
 again as I came into the Santa Lucia, with its supplement 
 of tumbling houses, suckling babes, and dirty children. On 
 the seaside, oyster hucksters intrench themselves behind 
 huge piles of shells and other frutti del mai'e, as the na- 
 tives call lobsters, crabs, and fish. Strident, too, are the din 
 of hand-organs and the resounding cries of venders. 
 
 As the dragon's teeth produced armed men, so every 
 
BEGGARS. 63 
 
 curse bestowed on Naples by its enemies has brought forth 
 a beggar ; and these persistent vagabonds have increased in 
 geometric ratio for so many centuries that they actually fur- 
 nish a subject for reflection. Numerically, the fleas are 
 ahead, but that exceedingly spry insect has the virtue of 
 keeping concealed, while the beggar always manifests a 
 fraternal interest in you. It would never do to show them 
 any pity, for as soon as you do they telegraph the fact to 
 their associates, and your doom is sealed. I have heard of 
 a traveller who hired one of these beggars to accompany 
 him at so much a day, and I believe the experiment saved 
 the man considerable annoyance, as the hired professional 
 kept oft' the others. Indiscriminate charity is soon banished 
 amid supplications like those in Naples. It would be wrong 
 to encourage these lying and maimed professionals, for they 
 are only doing what their ancestors did ; and if we of to-day 
 have a decent respect for the generations to follow, not the 
 tribute of one poor soldi ought we to pay. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NAPLES AND ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 NAPLES more than justifies all the praises she has won 
 from the pens of travellers. Her beauty is acknowl- 
 edged, and her soft charms still continue to delight the 
 stranger. Her position is unrivalled among the cities of 
 Europe. Gifted by nature and adorned by art as few spots 
 have been, her name will always be potent to conjure 
 the imagination and to attract pilgrims to her shores. If 
 ever the fabled horn of plenty was shaken over our sphere, 
 Naples surely got her share, for scattered about the neigh- 
 borhood are many of the master- works of man, to say noth- 
 ing of the wealth of nature. For weeks I lingered in the 
 city, although a few days would have sufficed for its archi- 
 tectural sights ; but one does not go to Naples to see churches, 
 or porticos, or even paintings, — those would better be left to 
 the cities further north, — but I found enough to do in the way 
 of making a day's journey to this place or to that, or in idly 
 strolling through the labyrinthian streets and seeing the 
 people. 
 
 Naples was not laid out in accordance with modern plans, 
 even in so far as these plans have reference to straight lines 
 and ordinary breadth, but follows the old-time custom of 
 twists and curves and narrow passages, which, though in- 
 convenient, present an interesting study for trans-Atlantic 
 eyes. The principal street of the city is the Toledo, or the 
 Roma, as it is now called, a long, unpretentious-looking 
 thoroughfare, neither narrow nor serpentine, and by no 
 
VIA TOLEDO. 65 
 
 means broad and dignified ; and yet the Neapolitans view it 
 with the deepest satisfaction and pride. It is the jugular 
 vein of Naples, through which the life-blood of the great 
 city courses night and day ; fashion and direst poverty 
 claim it, but it is the principal strada, and commands re- 
 spect. Into it empty the lanes and alleys of misery and 
 pestilence, but they become purified in its atmosphere and 
 made better. Still, when one looks far into their deep 
 recesses and beholds the squalor, the sensation is not 
 altogether reassuring. It is just the locality for cholera, 
 or the old historic plague. The Toledo, like its cele- 
 brated namesake blade, cuts the town into two well de- 
 fined parts, just as the blade might cut a mouldy cheese ; 
 and Naples from some points is exceedingly suggestive of a 
 mouldy cheese. Here are the best shops and cafes ; but the 
 street is not adapted to showing wares and merchandise, 
 nor are its sidewalks wide enough to permit of out-of-door 
 tables, at which one may sip beer and ogle the stream of 
 passers by. 
 
 One cannot get an idea of living Naples by remaining 
 pent up in hotels or picture galleries ; it is absolutely neces- 
 sary to be on the go if one would see the conglomerate half 
 million inhabitants that infest the town. Soon after noon the 
 Toledo is an animated stage of action ; the people are out 
 in full numbers, and while nobody seems anxious to accom- 
 plish any work either in buying or selling, the shops are 
 crowded, and a brief period of prosperity spreads over the 
 scene. Restricted as is the space between the curbs, cab- 
 men do not hesitate to venture, nor dray-men either, 
 although a constant blockade is the inevitable consequence ; 
 but time does not count with them, and they choke 
 the public way without pny misgivings. The Neapolitan 
 Jehu has an attractive outfit so far as the harness is con- 
 cerned. The collar is high, and fantastically ornamented 
 
66 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 with brass trimmings, or figures representing steeples, pa- 
 godas, whirligigs, comical puppets of men and women, and 
 other original conceits, generally accompanied by jingling 
 bells, which give a soothing effect to the pistol-like reports 
 of his long whip, which he cracks without intermission. 
 The horses are small, and the carriages conform in size to 
 the steeds ; and this is fortunate, owing to the steepness of 
 the streets. But the cruelty of the average driver is some- 
 thing terrible. When the pony is doing his best, these brutal 
 drivers will club and kick him unmercifully, and, worse 
 than all, nobody notices it or cares a straw about it. Naples 
 is the national whipping-post for dumb animals. Donkeys 
 get the hardest blows, but they take them more philosophi- 
 cally, and only blink — poor creatures ! — but their burdens 
 are heavier than their cudgelling. Donkeys, with bulging 
 panniers crammed with bricks or mortar, or something 
 quite as heavy, amble along this fashionable street, but the 
 sight calls forth no remark, nor do the loud and unmu- 
 sical cries of fishmongers and the gutteral supplications of 
 candy venders. 
 
 Local guides persecute the observant tourist, offering 
 their so-called indispensable services for a small sum, and 
 hideous mendicants dog one's footsteps. Refuge in the 
 shops or cafes affords no immunity, for on coming out they 
 meet you with bleeding stumps or sightless eyes, and renew 
 their hoarse solicitations. In the midst of turmoil and 
 haste comes the slow and measured step of a funeral, wend- 
 ing its way to some church. The body is borne on men's 
 shoulders, and a long train of singers, with trailing white 
 gowns and black masks, and carrying flickering tapers, 
 mournfully chant the requiem for the dead. As this solemn 
 procession passes, the rudest cab-man and the loud-voiced 
 peddler lift their hats reverently. This mark of respect is 
 rarely wanting in Italy, but the next moment the imposed 
 
THE NATIONAL MUSEUM. 67 
 
 silence is broken by their renewed vociferations. The 
 quick notes of bugles announce the coming of the king's 
 troops, and a squad of the famous Bersaglieri, — jolly-looking 
 young soldiers, with broad-brimmed hats plentifully be- 
 decked with ostrich feathers, — march proudly past, and the 
 next moment a handsome priest, attended by his pupils, 
 passes up the Via. The noise is varied by the wailing of 
 barrel organs, and head-splitting pianos, which are pounded 
 with a vigor quite out of keeping with the requirements 
 of the score. But all this gives flavor to the scene, and 
 makes the great Toledo what it is. 
 
 From the stately porticos of the National Museum, at 
 the top of the Toledo, one may watch the carryings on 
 below r , or, if weary of them, go within and behold a 
 perfect mine of art wonders. It is one of the world's great 
 museums, and merits the fullest devotion on the part of 
 the visitor. The collections of bronzes, statuary, mar- 
 bles, mosaics, vases, manuscripts, paintings, and those 
 inexpressibly beautiful mural decorations brought from the 
 buried city across the gulf, are the honest pride not alone 
 of Naples, but of Italy. These ancient paintings gave me 
 more pleasure than anything I saw. Buried for so many 
 centuries, they have come back to us in all their brilliancy 
 and coloring. After hours spent in nearly every great gal- 
 lery in Europe, face to face with the masterpieces of inspired 
 painters, I never lost from my mind those exquisite frescos 
 at Naples. The marvellous grace and expression of the 
 dancing-girls in their singular dresses, the marriage of Bac- 
 chus and Ariadne, and the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, do not 
 easily fade from one's memory. The imagination of the 
 Pompeian painters was very riotous, to be sure, — but the 
 taste of that age craved satyrs and fauns, as well as deities, 
 fishes, fruits, and birds. Finely drawn and wonderfully 
 natural, they challenge the admiration of the world. Had 
 
68 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Pompeii gone the way of many cities and fallen into 
 utter decay, it is more than probable that we never should 
 have been enriched with these works ; they would have fol- 
 lowed the fortunes of their owners, and been lost ; but a 
 divine intervention planned otherwise, and preserved them 
 under the cloak of destruction. In the statue-lined vestibule 
 is the famous mosaic representing the battle between Alex- 
 ander and Darius, and a more perfect illustration of what 
 may be accomplished with mosaics does not exist. Here, 
 too, is the Farnese Bull, once the admiration of Rhodes, — 
 and well it deserved to be. A more stupendous piece of 
 sculpture was never looked at — stupendous in its effect on 
 the senses, for its marvellous action overwhelms one, and its 
 frightful reality almost takes away one's breath. From roof 
 to cellar this museum delights and astonishes : the marbles, 
 the bronzes, the paintings, the glasses, the Egyptian collec- 
 tion, — everything in its hundred rooms marks off the cen- 
 turies of human history as developed by mind and matter. 
 
 Naples is not remiss in her devotion to the church, and her 
 religious pageants and festivals still excite the enthusiasm of 
 her people, but they do not come up to the ancient standard 
 in their effects. Times change, and the enthusiasm that once 
 burned so fiercely has been gradually growing cooler, and no 
 longer blazes with forests of torches as in the halcyon days 
 of the Spanish kings. The churches of Naples are numerous, 
 but uninteresting both in history and in architecture. The 
 cathedral has a primitive appearance, decidedly out of char- 
 acter with its interior, which shines with lavish ornamenta- 
 tion. This edifice, commenced in the thirteenth century 
 and resting on one of Neptune's temples, has been re- 
 modelled and restored so often that it now bears the handi- 
 work of many generations, the last touches being given half 
 a century ago. It was fitting that this church should be 
 dedicated to the patron saint of the town ; accordingly Gen- 
 
THE ROYAL PALACE. 6$ 
 
 naro has taken up his technical abode within its solemn 
 shadows. This pious priest was beheaded in the fourth 
 century, and buried near the place of execution ; but two 
 phials of his blood were saved on that occasion and brought 
 to Naples, where they have since been religiously guarded, 
 and to-day rest secure in one of the most costly chapels in 
 the world. These little bottles have preserved the city from 
 the horrors of the pest and the calamities of war, and thrice 
 averted the fiery wrath of Vesuvius. These potent corpus- 
 cles certainly deserve the splendid shrine decreed by a 
 grateful people. The chapel is the glory of the cathedral, 
 and in any country other than Italy would be a church in 
 itself. Within are eight altars of richest marble, while 
 ranged about are pictures in copper framed in gold 
 and silver, and a dazzling altar containing the precious 
 blood of the saint. Thrice each year, amid the intensest 
 excitement and demonstrations, these phials of blood are 
 taken from their golden cases, and the head of the mur- 
 dered saint is likewise taken from its casket, and shown to 
 the populace. As soon as the dusty-looking blood comes in 
 contact with the head, it loses its inertness and begins to 
 boil and bubble, and is soon trickling down the phials in 
 constant streams. This liquefaction, as they call it, often 
 lasts a week, and then ceases as suddenly as it began. 
 
 One palace is much like another, and that in Naples did 
 not astonish me either by its grandeur or by its meanness. It 
 is a large and expensive structure, situated in the midst of 
 trade and noise, but commanding a splendid view of the 
 bay from its flowery terraces. The grand staircase is im- 
 posing and stately enough for any palace on the continent, 
 but the rooms and salons are too formal to be cheerful. 
 The furniture is gaudily painted in white, and streaked with 
 gilt bands and circlets, and upholstered in canary and blue. 
 This furnishing is decidedly theatrical in its effect ; but then, 
 
70 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 San Carlo, that monarch of theatres, stands hard by, only 
 across the gardens, and, for all I know, the property man 
 may have free access to the royal ante-chambers and state 
 dining-rooms. 
 
 My guide showed me no cosy little nooks and corners 
 where a king might be a husband and father as well as a 
 sovereign. If these home-like rooms exist, they are not 
 shown to the public, which may be a mistake when we re- 
 flect that the domestic life of a king ought to command the 
 love of his subjects. The common people always manifest a 
 keen interest in the every-day life of kings and queens ; they 
 like to peep into their private apartments, to see how they 
 are furnished and adorned, — for it is either in war or in the 
 affairs of life that monarchs make their thrones secure. In 
 the middle of a vast hall, with shining floors, is the cradle 
 presented to the }^oung prince of Naples by the municipal- 
 ity. It is a gem in its way, made of pearl, and lined with 
 satin of delicate tint held firmly by slender bands of gold, 
 and plentifully sprinkled with jewels, — diamonds, rubies, 
 and amethysts, — while dotted round the sides are exquis- 
 ite cameos of laughing baby faces. As I admired' the 
 crib, the loud cries of the dirty, friendless children play- 
 ing in the square beneath came floating through the palace 
 windows. 
 
 As I had never seen Rome, I thought the church, with its 
 Ionic peristyle form and columns, very imposing; but I 
 afterwards stood in the shadows of the Pantheon, and this 
 feeble Neapolitan imitation vanished like smoke. The altar 
 is handsome, and is worth seeing. But to the happy trav- 
 eller whose face is turned toward Rome the Neapolitan 
 churches have few attractions ; still, I found the sculptures in 
 Santa Anna de Lombardi and the frescos in Santa-Chiara 
 well worthy of attention, provided one has the time, — and so 
 the strange, allegorical marbles in the little out-of-the-way 
 
NAPLES. 71 
 
 chapel of Santa Maria della Pieta de Sangri — a terrific 
 name for so small a place — furnish an hour's pleasure. 
 
 But the open air is the place for one visiting Naples. It is 
 preeminently an out-of-doors city, not only for the poor,: 
 but for the rich and titled, every one enjoying the sunshine as 
 naturally as fish enjoy the water. On a warm afternoon the 
 Chiaja is resplendent with gay people, in carriages and on 
 foot, all oggling one another with the air of psychological 
 connoisseurs on the lookout for something novel and rare. 
 From the earliest times this beautiful bay has been the 
 pleasure resort for every race that has inhabited it. The 
 colonists from distant Cumae felt its potent charm, and 
 then the Romans came, and so on down to the idle rag- 
 amuffin of to-day who begs pennies as a pastime. The 
 taste for pleasure is one of the birthrights of the Neapolitan, 
 and it waxes as strong now as ever. 
 
 The small but exquisite Villa Nazionale is a fashionable 
 park, laid out in the sensuous Italian style, with statues and 
 fountains, where music regales the ear and animation de- 
 lights the eye, and where the tired sight-seer may recline 
 on the benches and get bewitched, — on one side the Med- 
 iterranean, with its brown and picturesque sails and the 
 hills beyond ; on the other, the noisy promenade, where 
 mirth reigns supreme, keeping up its revelry far into the 
 night. Here, too, if one wish to take a look at the secrets 
 of the sea, is the celebrated Aquarium, with its treasures 
 brought from far and wide, and a small fee will show the 
 horrible contortions of the octobus. The common people 
 gather round its tank, and watch the long, boneless arms 
 stretch forth after the victkn crab. They like to see the 
 creature's belly expand in sweet anticipation of the feast, 
 and to note the small, bead-like eyes peer from behind their 
 folds of wrinkles and seams, just as the awful mouth opens 
 for its prey. 
 
72 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Far along the strident strada, almost at the entrance of 
 the darksome grotto of Possilipo, is the tomb of Virgil. It 
 is strongly doubtful if the ashes of the poet ever reposed 
 there, but the urgent necessity for historic spots assigned 
 this sightly mound as his last resting-place ; and thither, in 
 full faith, generations of pilgrims have made their annual 
 visits. In the early days of the Christian era this part of 
 the city was inhabited by the aristocracy and wealth of the 
 empire ; but this favoritism has long since been lost, and 
 now the vicinity absolutely reeks with dirt and squalor. 
 Blacksmiths' shops and haberdashers' stalls line the high- 
 way, wretched urchins shriek at their sports, and hideous 
 beggars pluck at your coat-sleeves. A few coppers open 
 the wooden gate, and a short series of steps leads to the top 
 of the natural elevation where the tomb is situated. This 
 mortuary structure possesses none of the charms of archi- 
 tecture. It is plain in design, containing one large chamber 
 about fifteen feet square, within which are placed niches for 
 the urns. To-day the sacred precincts are completely strip- 
 ped of any ornaments they may once have possessed ; and 
 unless one's credulity is most subservient, it becomes diffi- 
 cult to believe that Virgil's ashes were ever deposited there. 
 The spot is singularly blessed with a charming view of the 
 city and the purple mountains and the beautiful bay, so that 
 if the poet's spirit comes back from across the Styx, it could 
 not find a more delightful spot from which to contemplate 
 the new order of things. It is certain that the poet lived 
 somewhere in this immediate neighborhood, and it was his 
 dying wish that his ashes might forever rest in the midst of 
 that glowing picture of sea and sky which he loved so well. 
 
 The entrance to the famous grotto is only a few steps 
 beyond, and the appearance, on approaching its portals, is 
 that of a tall and narrow arch, as black and forbidding as the 
 grave. Up and down its sides and over its top vines and 
 
THE GROTTO. 73 
 
 shrubbery grow in profusion, and dangle down like curls over 
 the forehead of some swarthy giant. This is the famous tun- 
 nel built by the Romans under Augustus, and subsequently 
 enlarged and improved by lesser monarchs. At the en- 
 trance its height is considerably greater than in the middle, 
 for the roof has a large incline toward that point. Its width 
 varies from twenty to thirty feet, and its length is about a 
 third of a mile. It was currently believed at one time that 
 this work was the result of a magician's will, so marvellous 
 it seemed, but it may all be safely ascribed to purely human 
 agencies. If it were not for this means of communication, 
 the people dwelling along the shores of the gulf would be 
 cut off from Naples as if by a mountain range ; but this 
 piece of engineering has saved them great inconvenience — 
 a fact which they appreciate by unceasing patronage. The 
 shades of Hades never generated a greater tumult than this 
 Neapolitan thoroughfare. The dense gloom is surcharged 
 with cries, yells, cracking whips, prolonged shouts, and the 
 usual choice assortment of persiflage which these southern 
 mouths love to utter. Prominent above the human din rise 
 the bleating of sheep and the yelps of persecuted dogs, while 
 in angry protest comes the excited cackle of hens on their 
 way to execution. Into this cave of gloom gas has been 
 introduced, but amid the clouds of dust its influence is 
 reduced to a minimum ; still it does some good, and in 
 several places in the tunnel its kindly light leads to shrines 
 before which indistinct worshippers say their prayers. The 
 sensation brought forth by a journey through this grotto is 
 unique and satisfactory, but once is quite sufficient for ordi- 
 nary mortals ; and yet its dismal confines and noise lead to 
 a scene beyond where the very perfection of land and sea 
 seems to have been reached, for, on emerging, one stands 
 confronted with the full beauty of that classic shore, curling 
 like delicate smoke from the mouth of the grotto, and 
 
 4 
 
74 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 expanding in widening curves and rings to the cape of Mise- 
 num. There in splendid array repose Pozzuoli, Baja, Bacoli, 
 Misenum, and many other spots made famous by nature and 
 by the words of poets and historians. 
 
 Nature was lavish when this locality became settled, for 
 here within a small compass is situated as choice a collec- 
 tion of interesting sights, to say nothing of their charms and 
 beauty, as the world presents. The fascination of this land- 
 scape really lies in the power exercised by the sea : that is 
 always exquisite in its changes and coloring, but the land is 
 seared, scoriated, and unproductive. 
 
 With true professional pride I was taken to the little cave 
 where the fumes of carbonic-acid gas are so powerful as to 
 extinguish life, and there saw the sickening sight of the dog 
 undergoing the agonies of dying. The cavern is small, and 
 the unfortunate but hardened pup is thrust unceremoniously 
 in, and the struggle begins forthwith. The kind-hearted 
 tourist stands by, and notes developments. The beast's 
 eyes soon take on a terrible lustre, his tongue rolls wildly, 
 he shakes his body furiously, and, after an attack of violent 
 trembling, he sinks to the ground, and lies gasping. The 
 poison has done its fatal work, and the poor friendless dog 
 has passed to a sphere where scientific brutality is not en- 
 couraged by idle curiosity ; — but no, the prudent showman 
 seizes the panting animal and flings him out into the open 
 air, and the resuscitation is brought about with amazing 
 rapidity and completeness. In a few minutes the accom- 
 modating cur frolics with the children of the party, and dis- 
 plays a post mortem appetite truly astonishing. 
 
 A short distance beyond is Pozzuoli. The stranger knows 
 when it is near, by the concourse of guides and ragamuffins 
 who advance to bid him welcome. It is about as bad as 
 any place in Italy, and the only way to escape persecution is 
 to hire a guide, and, through him, politely decline the ser- 
 
NAPLES. 75 
 
 vices and attendance of the willing multitude. I found the 
 plan quite successful, and my rambles among the historic 
 ruins were uninterrupted. Pozzuoli was once a Greek set- 
 tlement, and in later times the most flourishing port in all 
 Italy ; but time has played awful havoc with its grandeur 
 and importance since that day when the south wind wafted 
 St. Paul to its shores. Enough remains of the vast amphi- 
 theatre to show its original size, and its completeness as to 
 arrangements, both for seating the audience and for carry- 
 ing on the barbarous games. The ante-chambers and en- 
 trances are well preserved, and so is the green-room, only 
 the green-room of a Roman amphitheatre must have been 
 more like a prison than a place of delightful recreation. 
 Hard by is the aqueduct, from whose depths the arena was 
 flooded with water, when Nero, satiated with the blood of 
 wild beasts and gladiators, instituted marine spectacles and 
 naval battles. It must have been quite an experience in a 
 man's life to spend a week at Pozzuoli as a guest of an 
 emperor like Nero. If Nature intended to frighten the 
 dwellers along this coast by volcanic means, she signally 
 failed, for within easy gun-shot of the reeking amphitheatre 
 Solfatare has fumed and sputtered for centuries, and still 
 the games went on ; and now that the shows are no more, 
 the mission of the crater does not appear to be over. Smoke 
 and sulphur burst forth from the artificial mouth of the 
 aged volcano, and in spite of the guide's foolhardy example 
 I did not venture too near the hissing jaws of that pent-up 
 sea of fire. 
 
 The crater having had the misfortune to fall in, now 
 resembles a huge potato hill after the potatoes are dug out. 
 It is situated in a basin formed by hills of pumice-stone and 
 other volcanic substances, through clefts in which puffs of 
 smoke issue incessantly ; and to heighten the effect and to 
 give tone to the locality, the earth is everywhere hollow, so 
 
76 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 that the dropping of a stone causes a dull and angry re- 
 sponse. As these volcanic localities are licensed to break 
 out without advertising, I made my observations somewhat 
 hastily, but quick as they were they are nevertheless lasting. 
 
 With bloody spectacles and belching volcanoes in the 
 neighborhood, there is a fitness in having an assortment of 
 temples to appease the slighted deities. The temple of 
 Serapis, discovered a century ago, is a striking specimen of 
 ancient architecture, with its great quadrangular court sur- 
 rounded by lofty columns of marble and granite, and flanked 
 by numerous apartments necessary to the worship of the 
 Egyptian god. In the middle is a circular temple, now 
 marked by an interesting collection of pillars and shafts in 
 confused array. Over these dismal ruins plants flung out 
 their bright flowers, and ivy drooped in graceful festoons 
 from the crumbling capitals. According to scholars, the 
 sea has performed strange antics with this temple in epochs 
 gone, and even now the work of excavation goes on, in full 
 hope of finding more concerning its strange history. Not 
 far distant Neptune has been honored by a temple, but, 
 being a more common god than Serapis, the memorial is 
 only interesting to the pronounced archaeologist. 
 
 The hard road along the sea from Pozzuoli to Baja, and 
 for that matter to Miseno and its cape, is full of pretty 
 scenery, the hills having that peculiar Italian slope so 
 charming as they gradually decline into the blue Mediter- 
 ranean, and above all hangs the precious aroma of the clas- 
 sics. Here it was that Virgil revelled in his art, and here 
 Horace whiled away his leisure ; while Caesar, Caracalla, 
 Tiberius, and a host of other worthies made this locality their 
 winter home. Lake Avernus, over whose fatal surface no 
 bird can safely fly, is the same as it was when ^Eneas made 
 his descent guided by the sibyl, and there it lies, only a few 
 rods distant ; then Lucrinus brings to my mind visions of 
 
BAJA—BA COLL 7 7 
 
 feasts made delicious by its oysters ; while the therma 
 Neroniance still send forth their hot vapors to relieve the 
 pangs of invalids. Although I had never been on the spot 
 in my life, all was perfectly familiar ; so I suffered myself 
 to be dragged through the suffocating passages until every 
 twinge of rheumatism must have fled from my pores in dis- 
 gust. Never afterward did I feel any inclination to explore 
 the dark recesses of ancient bath-houses. 
 
 Baja was once the fashionable watering-place for the 
 wealthy Romans, but to-day its splendid situation is silent 
 in ruins and decay, and rank weeds run riotously over the 
 sites of its palaces and mansions. It is one of the saddest 
 places on the coast. Here Diana had a temple, and so had 
 Mercury ; and to-day it is entertaining to rest awhile within 
 its shades, and listen as the peasant girls chink the castanets 
 while they dance the tarantella. 
 
 A few miles farther on is Bacoli, with its army of ragged 
 inhabitants ready to pounce upon the enchanted traveller. 
 The dilapidated village is very woe-begone, and only wakes 
 up when the winter kindly sends its northern visitors. This 
 promontory, commanding as perfect a view of the unwonted 
 charms of Naples and its bay as any on the coast, was a 
 favorite resort of Nero ; and here it was, in this very Bacoli, 
 that Nero, that sum total of all Roman iniquities, deliberately 
 plotted to kill his mother. Every step brings you to a tem- 
 ple or a ruined villa, or some kind of relic that once played 
 its part in the history of the past. Here are vast subterra- 
 nean prisons, with deep, gloomy cells hewn in solid rock, 
 never admitting the light of day, and whose hideousness is 
 revealed by the blazing torches of the guides. Life and 
 death amounted to about the same thing with the wretch 
 consigned to these graves. In stumbling through those 
 damp, uneven corridors, I banished all thoughts of my 
 guide's unkempness, and clung to his side in a manner 
 
78 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 most fraternal. His dim and unsavory person was my only 
 hope of escape from the death-haunted caverns. 
 
 The natives, whose livelihood is gained by acting as guides, 
 have a way of extinguishing their pitch flambeaux by rub- 
 bing them on the walls of the prison, and the unsuspecting 
 visitor, who constantly feels his way by touching the walls 
 as he mopes along, emerges with face and hands of decid- 
 edly Ethiopean hue. At first I feared I had caught some 
 malignant disease, but the assembled mob set up a shout, 
 and some enterprising one among the crowd handed me a 
 looking-glass, which made me a coal-heaver or an under- 
 done minstrel performer. I willingly paid the usual fee 
 for the revelation, and another fee for water and towel. 
 
 The piscince mirabalis is a grand illustration of the way 
 the masons used to build, and also of the extent to which 
 luxury went. To the very end of the land I rambled, and 
 stood by the sepulchre of Misenus, — a gorgeous spot, washed 
 by the waves and bathed by the pure, soft air of heaven ; 
 and there, away from the tumult of war and combat, the 
 trumpeter of ./Eneas awaits the judgment-day. 
 
 The Grotto, Pozzuoli with its temples and amphithea- 
 tres, Baja, Avernus, Miseno, and Cuma, all lie to the west 
 of Naples, forming an attraction of land and sea and sky 
 unsurpassed. But one must not do them hurriedly : these 
 wonders will challenge more than one day's attention. To 
 them should be given three days, at least ; for to visit these 
 interesting spots only to squint at them is no part of intelli- 
 gent travelling. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CAMPO SANTO VECCHIO— SORRENTO— CAPRI. 
 
 THE Neapolitans have a barbarous and most revolting 
 mode of burying their dead. The catacombs were 
 filled long ago, and no longer afford burial-places for the 
 poverty-stricken wretches who swell the city's death-roll. 
 Accordingly the municipality makes use of the ancient 
 burying-ground known as Campo Santo Vecchio, and there 
 inters its paupers. To be sure, the disposition of the dead 
 seems fearful in all these southern countries. Even in Paris, 
 amid the surroundings of the highest civilization, a visit to 
 Pere La Chaise discloses strange sights ; in Palermo, Bar- 
 celona, and Grenada it is sickening ; but it is left to Naples 
 to surpass all others in horror. There the unfortunates are 
 not buried in coffins and shrouds, but are cast almost naked 
 into a common pit, to fester and to rot. 
 
 The method of burial I had been told of, but the place 
 and its surroundings were left wholly to my fancy. I 
 pictured in my mind a well arranged area, laid out in regu- 
 lar divisions, with gravelled walks, and perchance an occa- 
 sional plot beautified by flowers, or at least clothed in some 
 of that verdure which revels in plenty all around ; and I 
 also pictured in my mind monuments and tablets telling of 
 virtue and valor, and simple wreaths testifying of the love 
 that never dies. It is two miles from the museum to the 
 gate of the cemetery, most of the way taking one through 
 those narrow lanes where death carries on high frolic with 
 the miserable creatures that inhabit them. Verily, these 
 are the paths that lead to the grave, and the horrors accum- 
 
80 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ulated as I neared the place. The nearer I went, the more 
 numerous were the evidences of death. Scores of dead- 
 carts, whose rough drivers were prodigal of ribaldry and 
 garlic, rumbled along ; and scattered up and down the street 
 were men with little coffins swung over their shoulders, 
 stolid and unfeeling as butchers carrying meat to market. 
 The streets leading to the place of skulls are in sad need of 
 paving : the work must have been done by contract many 
 years ago, for my carriage jolted and trembled as it fought 
 its way over the unevenness. A sudden turn, an abrupt 
 ascent, a glittering shrine, and I was there. In front is a 
 low stone building, used, as I saw, for the work in hand, 
 such as living-rooms for the keeper and the officiating 
 priests. At one end was a chapel, from whose cheerless 
 portals strains of dolorous music came, and, on peering in, 
 I saw a youthful priest seated at an organ, and doing his 
 best to persuade Music to venture forth into the gloomy 
 apartment. Passing through a long hall, I found myself 
 in the old cemetery. 
 
 Gabriel Grub could never have come to this desolate 
 spot with his bottle of Hollands. It would have been too 
 much even for his professional nerves, and I further doubt 
 whether the goblins would have felt like dancing around so 
 cheerless a court-yard, for ghosts, even, need more induce- 
 ments than this Campo Santo offers. Within the grim 
 confines there is not a monument nor a head-stone upon 
 which the goblins might go through their fantastic dances, 
 no friendly shadows behind whose forms they might hide 
 from the inquisitive moon: it is a spirit-shunned yard- 
 cold, detested, and shut out from the world. In this 
 cemetery the earth has been excavated, and then the great 
 hollow divided into three hundred and sixty-five cells or 
 pits, made of masonry twenty feet deep and thirty or forty 
 wide. A stone pavement having been laid over them, the 
 
HOW PAUPERS ARE BURIED. 8 1 
 
 grave-yard was ready for business. Over the centre of 
 each pit is a square block, with a number cut in it. The 
 practice is to open one pit on each day of the year and 
 fling the dead into its dismal mouth, then close it until its 
 turn comes round again in the procession of days. This 
 plan is not now strictly practicable, as there are several pits 
 devoted to particular tenants, — the Swiss Guards, and other 
 more distinguished victims of the cholera. These are for- 
 ever closed ; but the keepers are not over scrupulous, and it 
 would not be surprising if they were opened once or twice 
 in the course of the year to receive their sickening quota. 
 Here and there blades of grass peeped out from between 
 the cemented crevasses of the numbered blocks, but they 
 were weak and pale : even weeds, vigorous as they are, 
 hesitate to infest such a place. A few faded wreaths told 
 their touching tale of dear ones laid in the mouldy cells, 
 but Death is too inexorable there to allow sentiment in his 
 precincts. The vault or cell corresponding to the day of 
 the year is opened at six in the morning and closed about 
 sunset. When the day's dead have all been flung in, the 
 slab is replaced, presumably to be undisturbed for twelve 
 months. 
 
 It is next to impossible to estimate the number of inter- 
 ments, for the paupers are innumerable in Naples ; but if 
 the daily average can be based on w T hat I saw, the num- 
 ber is frightful. The city hearses make their dismal rounds, 
 collecting the dead and conveying them hither to sepulture. 
 After visiting this cemetery, I never met one of those black, 
 lumbering vehicles, with lamps staring like dead men's 
 eyes, without shuddering. If burying is going on at the 
 time the bodies arrive, in they go without further remark ; 
 should they fortunately arrive during an intermission, they 
 are placed in narrow trays lined with zinc, and deposited in 
 niches arranged in the spacious walls of the long building 
 
 4* 
 
82 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 containing the chapel, and there they remain until work is 
 resumed. Although the pit is open all day, it is used only 
 at specified hours in the morning and at about sunset, 
 this arrangement being both for the convenience of the 
 undertakers and the priests. Both prefer to work on 
 several at a time. As the hours for interment draw 
 near, little groups of men and women begin to gather, 
 drawn hither from curiosity and morbid interest, or to in- 
 quire into the history of this one or that. Many come to 
 verify a dream, and to note important items, such as the 
 age of the corpse, the number of the vault, the day of the 
 month, so as to complete some combination in the forth- 
 coming lottery. These low Neapolitans furnish quite as 
 interesting a social study to other Italians as to foreigners. 
 Late in the afternoon the men take oft' their coats and begin 
 their work. A small derrick is moved over the numbered 
 block, and a chain attached to the ring ; then the wheels 
 squeak and groan, the cemented edges crack, and the 
 mouth-piece of the pit dangles in the air. Up stream the 
 disgusting effluvia, the festering carrion of a whole year. 
 Even the hardened laborers stand back for some minutes. 
 The ragged edges of the hole are scraped ; then the large 
 iron coffin is brought out and laid by the open pit. This is 
 the vehicle that makes thousands of trips } ; early into the 
 sickening caverns, going full and returning empty. It is 
 box shape, eight feet long and proportionately deep and 
 wide, and so constructed that by touching a spring the bot- 
 tom falls open. The ingenuity of this contrivance is made 
 apparent as the work goes on. The lowering and raising 
 of the coffin is done by the derrick, while a long, flexible 
 iron bar, thrust into the pit, serves as a rail to steady its 
 movements. The dead bodies are now taken from the 
 niches in the wall and laid side by side near the yawning 
 hole, a ghastly array of unshrouded men, women, and chil- 
 
HOW PAUPERS ARE BURIED. 83 
 
 dren ; some almost entirely nude, others in the dirty habili- 
 ments of poverty, all miserable beyond description. The 
 laborers uncover their heads, while the attendant priest 
 mechanically reads a brief burial service, ending it by 
 sparsely sprinkling the departed. The bodies, one at a 
 time, — except in case of children, when several are put in 
 at once, — are laid in the iron box, the cover closed with a 
 harsh clang, and then the horrible mechanism begins its 
 work. The box is raised to an upright position, then care- 
 fully lowered into the darkness, gliding down the iron bar 
 which gradually yields to the pressure until the iron shroud 
 is near its journey's end, when it springs suddenly back, and 
 in the twinkling of an eye the under section of the coffin flies 
 open upon its hinges, and the corpse is dumped prone on 
 the mouldering pile. As the hour's interment drew to a 
 close, I mustered courage and peered into the hole. The fast 
 fading sunlight made the sight indistinct, but there on the 
 horrible and sickening bed were fathers and mothers, hus- 
 bands and wives and little children, dumped in damnable 
 confusion, there to await the swift decomposition which 
 the hole generates. For more than a century this cemetery 
 has been the scene of burials such as I saw on that lovely 
 afternoon in March, and still the harsh coffin performs its 
 dreadful task with revolting regularity. 
 
 In cheerful contrast is the new cemetery, dedicated only 
 a few years ago, and occupying one of those favored sites 
 in full command of the encircling panorama of Naples. It 
 is w T ell to visit this spot, if for no other purpose than to 
 obtain the view it affords, for it is one of the best. Here 
 the exquisite contour of the bay is most fully presented. 
 The shores, bending with almost mathematical curve, may 
 be followed to the dim headlands of distant Sorrento, broken 
 only- by the purple peaks of Vesuvius with just a faint 
 smoke-cloud hovering over them. 
 
84 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 When, at length, I quit Naples, it was to go to Sorrento 
 by this winding road, along the curving shores ; — and I 
 advise every one to adopt this plan if possible. A worthy 
 cab-man conveyed me through the fascinating suburbs to 
 my journey's end, and made clear to me a vast mass of 
 local legends and doubtful archaeological lore. These fellows 
 love to talk, and, overcome by the temptation of willing 
 ears, their garrulousness recognizes no limits. To fly from 
 Naples to the priceless cinders of Pompeii, cooped up in a 
 railway compartment, is as near downright sacrilege as any- 
 thing put down in the sacred book, but nevertheless many 
 do it. I preferred the long ride among the lively people, 
 dwellers beyond the city gates, independent and careless, 
 and yet interesting in the aggregate, where I might see the 
 unvarying consistency of Neapolitan dirt and manners. 
 
 It was the Santa Lucia long drawn out ; but the houses 
 were smaller,- and sunlight and air were more plentiful than 
 in the overcrowded streets of the city. It might properly be 
 called the maccaroni district, for on all sides the manufac- 
 ture of that sweet paste goes on in all the details of form 
 and perfection. Each small hut furnishes its share of the 
 national dish ; all hands work at the trough, or pull the 
 long, plastic stems into their prescribed shape. For sev- 
 eral miles the way lay through a forest of maccaroni, trel- 
 lised up like grape-vines. I felt no desire to step inside to 
 gaze at the process of mixing ; my appetite was well satis- 
 fied by the array of pipe-stems and ribbons hung out from 
 black windows and casements, or thrown carelessly over 
 racks along the street, where ragged children, mouldering 
 animals, and broods of flea-bearing fowls were altogether 
 too numerous. Dust and dirt eddied in the air, perse- 
 cuting human eyes and ears, and settling on the moist 
 cereals festooning the roadside. I meditated on the mac- 
 caroni question for many miles, and thought I had weaned 
 
CASTELLAMARE. 85 
 
 myself, but at dinner a few hours later I forgot my gas- 
 tronomic resolution and fell into temptation. Its early im- 
 perfections are soon forgotten at the hands of Italian cooks. 
 
 Twenty English miles measure the distance from Naples 
 to Castellamare, but the way is miserably desolate and un- 
 interesting. Very soon after quitting Naples the country 
 takes on a sad and mournful face, strictly in keeping with 
 the annals that make it historic. On each side are plains 
 of lava, and there is nothing so sorrowfully monotonous as 
 those dull-colored stones, not even the sands of the desert. 
 I was glad when Castellamare lifted me out of a journey so 
 gloomy and bare. . 
 
 Castellamare is historic because it rests on the ruins of 
 Stabia, and is noted because of its fisheries and dock-yards. 
 I passed the night in a mediaeval castle, kept by an Eng- 
 lish woman who did her best to make her guests happy. 
 From its broad terraces the charms of the bay are shown 
 in all their rare loveliness, while above orange and olive 
 groves mantle the hills with green. My chamber must have 
 been an audience hall in the good old days, for its windows 
 were deep-seated in carved recesses, and the great vacantly 
 staring walls were clothed in sadly faded tapestry. 
 
 Early the next morning, with the leaping sunbeams, I 
 rode to Sorrento. The highway leading to that peaceful 
 village is famous even in a land of famous roads. Through 
 a veritable garden, where Nature fairly revels all the year 
 round in the fierce slants of the summer sun, amid the 
 balmy breezes of spring and the occasional harshness of a 
 misguided winter, this highway takes its beautiful course. 
 Not alone in the perfection of road-making, but in the 
 rarity of its unfolding panorama, is this magnificent road 
 renowned. Broad and hard, with sturdy balustrades along 
 the edges, it skirts the brink of ugly precipices so near that 
 I often saw the waves break on the crags below ; but the 
 
86 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 feeling of security is as complete as the sensation of delight, 
 and danger was forgotten under the spell of the picturesque 
 Mediterranean — on one side the sea of Virgil, on the other 
 the groves of Tasso. For the most part the road follows 
 the tortuous outline of the promontories, close by the water, 
 but, now and then bending inland, winds through the yellow 
 orange-trees and the sun-clad vineyards, showing gems at 
 every turn, — now a sweet village, half hidden in the rich 
 foliage, shy to meet the noisy tourist ; now a pretentious 
 villa, with heavy walls deeply recessed to ward off the sum- 
 mer solstice, peeping from its ambush ; then a long, meander- 
 ing valley, with its lap full of flowers ; and shortly a stone 
 bridge, whose massive arch defies the foaming torrent fresh 
 from the mountains beyond ; — all the varied charms that lead 
 men captive are flung over the path of this highway, until 
 one instinctively feels that the gods have distributed their 
 choicest favors, and watch over them in the softest of skies. 
 Sorrento is a typical resting-place ; there is none other 
 like it. Tourist-trodden as it is, its salubrious air and un- 
 excelled situation, along the horse-shoe bend of the jutting 
 headlands, give it a definite charm that my six weeks stay 
 did not weaken. I went to remain over night ; but it was a 
 case of love at first sight, and I kept lingering along until 
 the north winds were agreeable. Sorrento is a village, 
 straggling after the manner of small Italian towns, contain- 
 ing a few thousand inhabitants, boasting a market-place, a 
 principal street with a generous supply of cab-men hanging 
 round it, and numerous lanes, jealously guarded by high 
 walls. There are exquisite strolls and excursions leading 
 along the rippling sea, or back among the vineyards and 
 olives of the mountains; plenty of narrow, uncleanly alleys 
 criss-crossing the thickly settled portions of the town ; crum- 
 bling churches and monasteries, whose creaking bells are 
 forever summoning the devout to service ; moss-covered 
 
SORRENTO. 87 
 
 houses and damp cellar-like habitations, where the loom is 
 busy ; and beyond it all lay the snow-capped mountains. 
 Then nearer, only twelve miles across the sparkling bay, 
 stands grim Vesuvius, rolling out its smoke, and at its feet 
 great Naples stretches out like a mighty camp ; while in the 
 soft sunbeams Ischia and Capri, graceful nymphs, rise from 
 their beds in the sea to add lustre to the view. 
 
 I passed my time in a most sweet do-nothing way, making 
 excursions to Deserto, with its red-walled monastery cap- 
 ping the hill and commanding a view unsurpassed ; to the 
 telegraph station, where observant operators keep their 
 eyes on isolated Capri, and so furnish the busy world with 
 the latest news from that dozing isle ; then along the con- 
 tinuation of the superb highway to Massa, beneath towering 
 cliffs, over deep gorges, where the legend-loving peasant 
 looks for dwarfs ; beside rippling brooks and the falls of 
 Conca, rashly leaping from lofty pinnacles, losing their 
 slender threads in clouds of mist ; amid the chestnut-trees 
 and the orange groves, pausing now at some rude shrine to 
 contemplate the weather-beaten features of the Christ, and 
 to hear the low murmur of the kneeling sinner ; — and so on, 
 through the lotus land, day succeeded day in perfect peace. 
 
 The town is perched along the promontory that like a 
 fortress resists the attacks of the sea, and to gain the beach 
 to Piccola Marina long passages cut in the earth and rock 
 offer their assistance : so down the steep descent, half 
 choked with black night, you go, and the dancing billows 
 welcome your friendship. There is a small settlement 
 nestling there, and boatmen are ready to bear you over the 
 waves to Capri or to Naples with their russet-colored sails, 
 or row you into the chambers made by the waters. When 
 the donkey-rides among the charms of the town and its 
 surrounding hills and hamlets no longer amuse, and walk- 
 ing and sleeping have lost their interest, seek the cool 
 
88 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 shades beneath the beetling cliffs, or trust your life to the 
 stout mariner, and dash over the white caps of the bluest 
 of seas. These boatmen are picturesque enough in bright 
 handkerchiefs and flapping head-dresses, and their com- 
 panionship is never tiresome. 
 
 In returning to the world above, try one of the many 
 steep lanes leading thereto, cut in rock and winding as a 
 serpent's path, but wide open to the skies : they are the 
 public roads, and there the sure-footed donkeys pick their 
 way followed by belaboring drivers. Shrines are not ab- 
 sent, and near the water's edge is an ancient chapel : it may 
 once have been a temple of Neptune, but it is now a temple 
 of the living God, where hardy sailors pray for favoring 
 winds, or return thanks, after the custom of the Romans for 
 escaping shipwreck, by hanging their dripping garments 
 on its sacred walls. 
 
 Sorrento is fortunate in being so situated that Pompeii 
 and Capri are like next door neighbors, neither being far 
 distant : you reach one by the splendid highway, the other 
 by a daily steamer. The sail to Capri is a pretty one, occu- 
 pying only a short two hours, when the lofty sides of the 
 island are at hand, and likewise a swarm of small row-boats 
 manned by bawling oarsmen. These fellows are ready to 
 row you into the famous Blue Grotto, and it is easy to strike 
 a bargain with them, for they generally outnumber the pas- 
 sengers. Sharp as one's vision may be, the mouth of the 
 Grotto defies the search. There are fissures, but the entrance 
 is not through them : where is it? As our flotilla bobbed 
 up and down on the waves, I could not help bringing to 
 mind the patriotic print at home, representing Washington 
 crossing the Delaware, for every boat was dignified with a 
 flag at its stern, and the novelty of the thing quite made 
 up for the historic floating ice. It was comical to see boat 
 after boat disappear in a small hole not larger than a cellar 
 
THE BLUE GROTTO. 89 
 
 window. In they went, and the shrieks and cries of their 
 freight were swallowed up in the darkness. The manner 
 of getting in is very undignified, but there is no appeal : 
 down you lie, flat on the bottom of the boat, where the 
 chances are that some bulky German will be on top, crush- 
 ing your breath into spasmodic gasps ; and in this utter 
 prostration state all hands patiently wait until a receding 
 wave makes the narrow mouth larger. Then the boatman, 
 whose feet are at liberty to rest on anybody's shoulders or 
 stomach, gives a strong push, and the boat grates and 
 squeaks, and then glides through and swims noiselessly on 
 the pool within. There you are, in the Blue Grotto, sub- 
 merged beneath earthquake-addicted Capri, and shut out 
 from the world by a small aperture which the least breeze 
 from the north may close at any moment. 
 
 But these dismal thoughts go begging in this marine 
 chamber, so full of deep recesses and pulpits, with frown- 
 ing ceilings and all sorts of grotesque architecture shown 
 off in that weird coloring. It w T ould be a fine dressing- 
 room for some theatrical Mephistopheles. 
 
 The sensation which at first overcame me as I floated on 
 the azure pool was very vivid, completely taking away 
 every sense but that of seeing. Doubtless we all felt the 
 same, for the chirping French were silent, and the Ameri- 
 can exclamation-points were lost in wonder. At first it 
 seems like some phosphorescence exhaling from the rocks ; 
 then, as the eye becomes accustomed to the scene, the pecul- 
 iar greenish-blue tint takes on more of the thin flame of 
 burning spirits, and the constant movement of the water 
 gives the surface the appearance of many lambent tongues 
 licking the air. At no time could I rid myself of the im- 
 pression that the place was in flames, and that the very 
 rocks quivered in an all-consuming fire. Human faces were 
 ghastly in green flesh and staring eyes, like floating corpses, 
 
go AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 while the boatman, swimming round in the forbidding wa- 
 ters, was like some fabled monster, half fish, half man, as he 
 frolicked about, his arms and back gleaming with silvery 
 scales. Only a few minutes were allotted to us in this fan- 
 tastic cavern, and one by one the little boats sought the 
 open sky. My turn came, and out I went ; but my imag- 
 ination was surcharged with the strange sensation of flames 
 and moving colors, and this clung to me for some time 
 after. 
 
 Capri is such an attractive nest of crags and peaks, inhab- 
 ited by an interesting people, and made sociable by a goodly 
 colony of artists and seekers after health, that I regretted I 
 did not make a longer stay. It is the charming island of 
 the Mediterranean, purified by sweet breezes and kissed by 
 the softest sunbeams. Small as is Capri, Augustus loved 
 its charms, and here Tiberius spent his declining years, fas- 
 cinated by its sweet influences. In later years this little 
 isle has become famous for the physical charms of its maid- 
 ens, and hither artists of many nationalities have found 
 their way, whose skilful brushes have made those rich olive 
 complexions known in all lands. Intermarriage is common, 
 and a cosmopolitan colony is rapidly springing up. These 
 girls have shrewd mammas, who exhibit remarkable ability 
 in managing the matrimonial affairs of their households. 
 They often refuse to allow their beautiful daughters to serve 
 as models, unless the intention of the itinerant painter is 
 pretty manifest ; and often the result is marriage. If this 
 thing goes on, we shall have no end of international com- 
 plications with this sea home of Cupid. Who can wonder 
 that artists are attracted to its quiet charms, and make their 
 homes amid the vines and the trellises, for a fairer spot than 
 Capri can scarcely be found. There is everything to cap- 
 tivate the lover of the beautiful, and encourage him to be 
 contented. 
 
A FETE DAY. 9 1 
 
 I saw the people of Sorrento celebrate the natal day of 
 Antonio, their patron saint, and it brought out every phase 
 of their simple lives. The small square was the meeting- 
 place, and within its limits the celebration took place. The 
 peasants began to arrive early in the morning, and by nine 
 o'clock there was a busy scene on the usually deserted piaz- 
 za. The stone statue of Saint Antonio, with its swinging 
 lamp, was solemn and grave, as if bored by so much hom- 
 age ; but it must have been saintly conceit on its part, for I 
 saw nobody kneel before it : all passed by engrossed with 
 more material things. Wagons, carts, and vehicles of un- 
 certain nomenclature kept arriving, bringing loads of human 
 freight, which they discharged with a genuine trans- Atlantic 
 promptness that startled me. I feared at first they were 
 Cook's excursionists. Bareheaded women, cleanly dressed, 
 men and children in holiday attire, were soon promenading 
 the place, intent on making the most of the day. It was 
 comical to see the men and women put on their shoes as 
 soon as they reached the square. But this was an epoch 
 in their simple careers, when shoes might be worn without 
 exciting criticism. Booths for selling trinkets and nick- 
 nacks and for spinning the lottery wheel abounded, while 
 stalls for selling ginger-bread or its Italian equivalent were 
 as thick as a Yankee muster could ask for, and their patron- 
 age was liberal. 
 
 Few women wore head-coverings, the custom being to 
 let the black braids fall down the back in graceful negli- 
 gence ; but what they lacked on their heads they made up 
 for on their bodies. Their dresses were of many colors. 
 Color is to them what it is to the Indian — yellow shawls 
 in peculiar contrast with blue skirts, or bright red and green 
 in amicable relations ; but, after all, not a hue or a fold could 
 be more picturesquely arranged. 
 
 At last the procession emerged from the winding cathe- 
 
92 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 dral lane, and a hush fell upon the noisy people ; hats were 
 taken off, and a reverential stillness overspread the place. 
 On it came with measured step — and religious paces are 
 measured in Italy, if nowhere else — torch-bearers leading, 
 followed by platoons of singing boys clad in white gowns ; 
 bands of music dealing out sacred strains for this day only ; 
 round-faced monks with cowls flung back ; priests in black, 
 with their schools straggling close behind ; the civil gov- 
 ernment of the district in full dresses and broad yellow 
 sashes, which denoted their local importance ; then the poor 
 old bishop waddling along under the crushing load of mitre 
 and official robes, and supported by attendants, one of whom 
 kept fanning the oppressed ecclesiastic ; and, last of all, a 
 silver image of the patron saint, borne aloft, and protected 
 from the sun by a gorgeous canopy of silk heavily trimmed 
 with gold lace, upheld by eight bearers, and surrounded by 
 a profusion of standards and banners. The long procession 
 straggled through the opening in the crowd, and after per- 
 forming a circuit so that all might see, withdrew to its place 
 of starting, and was seen no more. No sooner had the last 
 banner disappeared, than fireworks, curiously rigged on 
 poles and trellises, were touched off; and the approving 
 face of heaven was shut from mortal view. Such deafening 
 salvos must have been exceedingly gratifying to the kindly 
 saint, for, in point of design and effect, these village pyro- 
 technics taught the Fourth of July a lesson. The end of 
 the religious part was immediately succeeded by a genuine 
 holiday fete. Peddlers and hawkers were numerous ; and 
 here that cosmopolitan rascal with the patent knife-sharp- 
 ener screeched its virtues to the gaping crowd ; acrobats, 
 with wonderful feats, tumbled over the ground, and went 
 into splendid contortions, receiving a hat full of soldi as 
 their reward ; but the most entertaining quack was he of 
 clerical garb, and hair flung back over his shoulders — he 
 
A FETE DAY. 93 
 
 was an American, sure enough. How proudly I watched 
 his gestures and listened to his Italian as he urged his pain- 
 less tooth-pulling on the susceptible peasants. His carriage 
 was surrounded with countless jaws, attracted partly by the 
 loud notes of his cornet and partly by the mysterious art of 
 legerdemain by which he blew fire from his mouth, feeding 
 the flames with the bright colored handkerchiefs of the 
 wonder-stricken women. He did many tricks, and then 
 proceeded to sell his rheumatic cure, or to pull out aching 
 teeth. A peasant would take his seat in the carriage ; the 
 operator pushed back his coat-sleeves, and the fun began. 
 While the patient was writhing in expectancy of pain, the 
 dentist would pause in his work to comment on the process, 
 at which the crowd yelled with delight ; then, resuming his 
 neglected task, out came the tooth, and the patient, too, in 
 many instances. My compatriot captured many a lira that 
 Saints' day, for the good-natured crowd lingered about the 
 square until the warm sun hid behind the western hills ; 
 then it slowly dissolved, taking away the vivacity of a few 
 hours before, and leaving in its place an unwonted stillness. 
 It is in towns like Sorrento that the charm of Italian life 
 becomes thoroughly interesting, for the reason that one can 
 so easily become a part of it. During my stay I engaged a 
 bright young priest to teach me Italian, and in his company 
 I mingled freely with all classes and grades, giving my curi- 
 osity full play. I went into their houses and watched the 
 busy looms, or lounged idly on the benches along the streets 
 so that I might pass a word or two with those disposed to 
 talk, or, in my rambles, paused at some gate-way where the 
 garden was full of ripening oranges, and listened to the loud 
 conversation going on, scarcely a sentence of which I under- 
 stood ; but their gestures were intelligible, and their hoarse 
 laughter reassuring. In pruning the fruit-trees, they manage 
 to climb into the highest branches, so that they may look 
 
94 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 into some neighboring enclosure and enjoy a friendly chat 
 with whomsoever they may see. If their dark eyes chance to 
 light on some being possessed of vocal organs, the exchange 
 of sentiments almost banishes all thoughts of arboriculture. 
 The women do the hardest work, and have less recreation 
 than their lords and masters. At every bend in the narrow 
 lanes leading out of town, one meets troops of women, — not 
 great brawny creatures such as one stares at around Killar- 
 ney, but of finer organization, — with bundles of fire-wood or 
 baskets of fruit on their heads, trudging along as their great- 
 grandmothers did before them. It was new to me, but old to 
 them ; and so when I asked my clerical companion about it, 
 he said they did not mind such customary things as carrying 
 small wagon-loads in the place of bonnets. With bare feet 
 these peasant women trip on their way, knitting industri- 
 ously, and oftentimes singing, while a squad of infants toddle 
 after. That hideous disease, the goitre, afflicts this neigh- 
 borhood, and so mingles its curse with the blessings of 
 warm air and abundant harvests. 
 
 The piazza, where so many rockets and pin-wheels 
 banged and whizzed in honor of Saint Antonio, is the mar- 
 ket-place for the country lying enclosed around Sorrento ; 
 and always on Sunday morning, if the sun is shining, 
 crowds of peasants from Meta and Messa, and from Deserto 
 on the hill, congregate and exchange the pent-up news of 
 the week. Gossip is rife, and sharp bargains, too, judging 
 from the quantity of produce that changes hands. It is very 
 picturesque to see so many bright red caps and polished 
 brass ornaments in constant motion, for these humble toilers 
 are as restless as the waves of the bay that indent their 
 shores. Sunday is the chosen time for trading, but not until 
 mass has been said : then the license takes effect, and eggs, 
 poultry, and vegetables are mixed in indiscriminate confu- 
 sion with candles and maccaroni and tobacco ; and it was 
 
SORRENTINE TRAITS. 95 
 
 not until the day had spent itself that I could even make out 
 the results of the day's negotiations. But about that time 
 the assembly is broken up ; and I used to meet women with 
 baskets on their heads, and men with pipes in their mouths. 
 A fair day's work, no doubt, as the wreaths of blue smoke 
 attested. 
 
 In harsh contrast with the half romantic conditions of life 
 and scenery around Sorrento stands the Cerberus of the 
 custom-house — I mean the Italian link in the international 
 chain that extends from the sands of Morocco to the snows 
 of Siberia. Here, in the sweet-scented atmosphere of these 
 graceful hills, the officer of the octroi stands ready, with wine- 
 gauge and scales, to pry into the secrets of the baskets and 
 the panniers. The little cabin, with the royal arms on its 
 entrance, always blocks the way ; and the peasants have to 
 submit with the best nature possible, while the active custo- 
 dian of the king's revenue performs his hated duty. I have 
 often seen the officers thrust long, sharp pikes into the bales 
 of hay so as to assure themselves that a cask of wine was 
 not concealed within, and look sheepish at not finding some- 
 thing contraband. Wine is tested by boring a hole in the 
 cask or barrel, and letting out a pint or two in order to 
 prove the contents beyond the possibility of a doubt ! These 
 operations give a very worldly touch to the romance of 
 Sorrentine life. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NAPLES TO MONT CENIS. 
 
 THE ride from Naples to Rome may safely be called 
 uninteresting, for the country is unattractive, and the 
 little scenery there is soon becomes monotonous. The 
 journey may be broken at Casserta, and a few hours devot- 
 ed to roaming through the beautiful grounds of the royal 
 palace, where, if the fountains happen to be playing, the 
 attractiveness is greatly enhanced. Good Italians go into 
 ecstasies over the park and its flowery avenues, and look 
 pityingly upon the traveller who slights this national Ver- 
 sailles. With Rome in sight, a score of Cassertas could not 
 swerve the pilgrim to the right or to the left. 
 
 The moon always exercises a magical influence over 
 architecture, but over Rome she certainly pours an afflu- 
 ence of silver which knows no equal. In her fulness she 
 creates a picture of positive splendor, which once seen is 
 never forgotten. I was fortunate in entering Rome under 
 the most benign influence, when domes and walls fairly 
 sparkled, and streets and piazzas were filled with mellow 
 light. 
 
 To make the approach more striking, and to give the 
 picture a venerableness, the great aqueduct lent its aid, 
 running alongside the railway for some distance like a wall 
 of silver, its huge body and massive arches flinging grim 
 shadows upon the whitened earth just as they had done 
 for a thousand years. 
 
 Rome has sights and studies enough for a life-time. 
 Even the three score and ten years are ridiculously inade- 
 
ROME. 97 
 
 quate. I found a month much too short, but in that time I 
 trust I saw the famous sights which one ought to behold 
 before dying. The " Eternal " is a fitting name for Rome : 
 she beat Charles II in the unconscionable time she took to 
 die; then, unlike Charles, she changed her mind, and, having 
 experienced every vicissitude, her eagles again glisten at the 
 head of her legions ; her pristine power and authority are 
 returning ; and she confidently expects to receive in the 
 future, as in the past, ambassadors suing for peace. To-day 
 Italy holds the balance of power in Europe, and has lately 
 managed to secure a plum from every diplomatic pie. Her 
 eye is on Trieste, and the time may come when Austria will 
 be powerless to prevent its cession. And so Rome, on her 
 seven doubtful hills, is still powerful. Progress is fast 
 sweeping the cobwebs from the imperial nooks and angles, 
 and by the pace she goes little will be left standing in her 
 way. 
 
 Those luxurious baths, which contributed so much tow- 
 ard the overthrow of old Rome, now reap the whirlwind, 
 and are fast disappearing, their graves being marked by 
 sumptuous structures dedicated to trade and to learning ; 
 temples and shrines once beloved by the forefathers are no 
 more ; historic ruins, the delight of students, become un- 
 pitied victims of the leaping civilization, and wide and spa- 
 cious boulevards flanked with modern mansions wind majes- 
 tically over the ancient sites : and the end is not yet. 
 
 Rome wears a surprisingly new appearance : the must and 
 grime of antiquity are not so conspicuous as I had pictured. 
 Even the Forum is kept clean and in good order, and the 
 ruins on Capitoline hill receive the same treatment. But 
 there are ruins most ruinous about the city, as a drive along 
 the Appian Way shows. The Tomb of Caecilia Metella 
 above ground, and the Catacombs of St. Calixtus below, 
 furnish errand illustrations of the wrecks of time. A more 
 
98 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 unearthly journey could scarcely be made than the descent 
 into the latter ; but it is a popular one, and the silent and 
 mouldering precincts generally contain troops of visitors, 
 whose feeble tapers flicker and blink in their struggle for 
 self-preservation. A drive along the Appian Way should on 
 no account be omitted, for one gets a wide view of the plains 
 stretching to the Sabine hills, rolling in charming colors 
 past castles and monuments and wavering lines of ancient 
 aqueducts, until lost in the shades beyond. Here one meets 
 those famous Roman oxen with branching horns and pon- 
 derous bodies, striking figures in the landscape of Rome. 
 
 Across the yellow Tiber is the tomb of Hadrian, now 
 sadly changed from its former self, but still serving Italy as a 
 fortress ; and but a short walk beyond looms St. Peter's, first 
 among the churches of earth, — an edifice whose stupendous 
 dimensions puzzle the imagination and excite the senses. 
 Repeated visits fail to give any definite impression as to its 
 size and grandeur. There is so much within its walls, that 
 the human mind becomes overpowered, and incapable of 
 fully realizing this work of centuries. 
 
 The number and elegance of the churches of Rome, — the 
 Lateran, the Liberian Basilica, St. Paul's, the Pantheon, 
 the most imposing of any, Ava-Cceli, St. Peter in Chains, 
 with its famous statue of Moses, very solemn, and yet a 
 trifle peculiar, all master-pieces of architecture, — furnish 
 a never lessening source of pleasure and contemplation. 
 The Vatican, whose wings and angles cover more ground 
 than any palace in the world, is the objective point for 
 strangers. There is an unconquerable curiosity attached to 
 the papal residence, and an unquenchable desire to be pre- 
 sented to the supreme pontiff, which from the force of cir- 
 cumstance is seldom gratified. However, next to seeing 
 the Pope is to see his splendid home, whose art-laden halls 
 and famous frescos delight the soul and leave nothing to 
 
 
ROME. 99 
 
 be desired. If one is permitted to attend mass in the Sis- 
 tine chapel, the cup of his joy is filled to overflowing. 
 
 Yet take away all these marvels, leaving only the Colis- 
 seum, and Rome would still be famous. This crumbling 
 wonder is the most pathetic spectacle in Europe : silent 
 and deserted it stands, solitary in its majesty. I never tired 
 of walking about its corridors, or climbing over its flower- 
 ing ruins. There was always a spell in its utter desolation 
 that held me captive, nor could I escape its fascination 
 by absence : my mind still dreamed about its magnifi- 
 cent pageants, and my feet still lingered among its shady 
 nooks. 
 
 In violent contrast is the Pincian hill, where fashion and 
 leisure catch the first faint breath of evening, and showy 
 equipages roll around the little circle to the lively strains 
 of the military bands. Loungers seek the benches and 
 pass comments on the whirligig of society, young offi- 
 cers succeed in catching the admiring gaze of American 
 heiresses, and sober priests lean on the balustrades with 
 eyes fixed on the glowing west. Idle Rome, having saluted 
 the parting day, deserts the vivacious Pincian, and goes to 
 dinner. 
 
 Hotels in .Rome are good and dear ; but one ought to pay 
 to see the mother city of the world, and leave no maledic- 
 tions. Let him rather seek the bubbling waters of the 
 Trevi fountain, and invoke their blessings on his return. 
 
 Florence is mirth-loving, its people are vivacious and 
 good-looking, and the city bears abundant evidence of care 
 and attention. It is a favorite wintering-place for English 
 and Germans, although its climate does not entitle it to 
 great consideration. 
 
 If every gallery in Europe, except those in Florence, were 
 destroyed, the world would still be rich in art. The price- 
 less treasures of the Tribune would in themselves atone for 
 
IOO AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 any such calamity. The gems displayed on the walls of 
 church, academy, and palace have long been the admiration 
 of our race. Florence is beautiful ; and its situation is all 
 that could be desired. The woods and hills, the parks, 
 the distant mountains, and the sluggish Arno, — its ancient 
 bridges, so strange and comical to modern eyes, its rugged 
 palaces, more like prisons in their ponderous style of archi- 
 tecture, its celebrated churches, the sturdy Campanile, and 
 lastly the Casine, with its landscape gems, — give to the city 
 a charm rarely surpassed. 
 
 Florence is the home of the Society of the Misericordia, 
 and its solemn processions are frequent sights. A more 
 impressive and at the same time chilling spectacle cannot 
 be imagined than that presented by the members of this 
 society when conducting a funeral. To meet them at night 
 almost makes one's blood curdle. It is their province to 
 attend to the calls of misfortune, and they perform this duty 
 with true military discipline. The confraternity is very old, 
 but age has not stoned its heart or palsied its limbs ; and 
 its mission is no nearer fulfilment now than it was in the 
 16th century. A certain number of its members meet every 
 morning ready for duty ; and they seldom have long to wait, 
 for the alarm bell soon sounds its dull signal, and they are 
 off to the rescue. The members wear black dominoes falling 
 to their heels, while their heads are enveloped in hoods and 
 capes, sombre in hue, and almost grotesque with two almond- 
 shaped eye-holes. Among the regulations of the society is 
 one forbidding members to speak to each other while en- 
 gaged in their work, or to refer to it afterwards. Thus 
 silence is enforced and rivalries prevented. At night I have 
 heard them chant as they moved slowly through the narrow 
 streets, — a weird and unearthly scene, as the living silhouettes 
 bearing lighted tapers wound in and out of the gloom. 
 
 Pisa, serene and beautiful on the banks of the Arno, lies 
 
PISA. IOI 
 
 only a few leagues away, and offers to the visitor those 
 master-works of architecture known as the Cathedral, the 
 Baptistry, the Leaning Tower, and the Campo Santo. Any 
 one of them would give an imperishable lustre to stately Pisa, 
 but an indulgent past has been generous and given more. 
 They are placed close to one another, occupying a spacious 
 square in a remote part of the town. This position, how- 
 ever, sets them oft' well, and brings out the architectural 
 effects in noblest proportions. One may journey far and 
 wide, and then go to Pisa and be spell-bound. The builders 
 of the Cathedral were inspired to make their work an epic, 
 for never was an interior more harmonious in perspective 
 than this. It is not a large edifice ; it may be considered 
 small as churches go ; but in few others is there such a com- 
 mingling of symmetry and elegance. 
 
 Almost within the shadow of this grand church leans the 
 celebrated tower, whose enigmatic meaning is as unravella- 
 ble as that of the Sphinx. We know who constructed it, 
 but its use and its original posture we do not know. It is 
 one of the strangest sights imaginable, and yet there is a 
 charm about it which increases the longer one studies it. 
 From the ground to the topmost cornice is 130 feet, and it 
 leans eleven feet out of the perpendicular. The mean diam- 
 eter is fifty-two feet, so there need be no fear in ascending 
 the mystery. The entire structure is composed of a series 
 of arcades, with superimposed arches, presenting an impos- 
 ing exterior, and giving a complete illustration of the early 
 Italian tower. A walk to the top is a good preparation for 
 a sea-voyage ; not that it is an antidote by any means, but 
 it gives one practice, and accustoms the stomach to that 
 sinking sensation so frequently attendant. The view from 
 the upper gallery is enchanting. The surrounding country 
 is like a flash of Turner or Lorraine. Tuscany and all its 
 vineyards are at hand, and none fairer grace the earth. 
 
102 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 The great circular edifice known as the Baptistry makes 
 the total of Pisa's wonders, although the Campo Santo, with 
 its cart-loads of real Jerusalem dirt, and its remarkable mural 
 paintings telling of death and immortality, has its attractions 
 also. I formed a strong attachment for Pisa. I liked its 
 cleanliness and its calm and its appearance of respectability ; 
 and besides, I learned that the early scale of prices still lin- 
 gers among the inhabitants. 
 
 Sunshine and shadow play hide-and-seek along the rail- 
 way from Florence to Bologna. An endless series of tunnels, 
 many of them a mile in length, rudely break the exquisite 
 scenery in its tenderest spots, and cruelly scatter the frag- 
 ments. The engineering exhibited by tunnels, viaducts, 
 bridges, grades, and majestic curves gives one a good im- 
 pression of that care-taking method of constructing railways 
 so general in Europe. They are not laid hurriedly in order 
 to catch the expiring hour of congressional land grants, nor 
 are they so imperfectly built that a master in chancery may 
 administer on the remains. Nowhere in Italy is the scenery 
 grander or more pleasing than through these gorges and 
 smiling plains of Lombardy. 
 
 Bologna is known to the uttermost parts of the globe, not 
 only for its mediaeval architecture, but also for its suspicious 
 but delicious sausage. Its fame is imperishable, and long 
 after the leaning tower and the ancient Etruscan burying- 
 ground have passed beyond the ken of coming historians, the 
 highly spiced meat may yet remain. At the Hotel Brun 
 large slices were offered as a prelude to the dinner : appe- 
 tizing were they, and far more salutary than the more cos- 
 mopolitan sherry and bitters. 
 
 The nearer one gets to Venice the stiller the streets, or, 
 at least, it seems so. In Bologna, with its seventy thou- 
 sand people, was a silence ill becoming the census — a kind 
 of uncanny stillness, such as one might look for in time of 
 
 
BOLOGNA. 103 
 
 public disaster or alarming pestilence ; but no good cause 
 could be assigned for it, considering that the national lottery 
 was in a flourishing condition, and the undertakers weaved 
 clouds of smoke around their disconsolate brows. Proba- 
 bly the temper is indigenous. The rows of arcades up and 
 down the public streets are massive and deep, forming por- 
 ticos for the houses and shops, and guarding their front 
 doors from sunshine as well as from rain, so that in inclem- 
 ent weather they furnish an agreeable promenade. From 
 the number of barber-shops, it might be inferred that no 
 man shaves himself, this important office being performed 
 by another ; but, after all, the Italians love to congregate 
 and let out their gossip. This amenity is very likely denied 
 them at home : hence the popularity of the wig-makers' 
 establishments. 
 
 The cathedral and the churches of Bologna are not 
 remarkable, nor are the public edifices ; and yet the old 
 town has enough in the way of interest to detain the trav- 
 eller a day, at least. Outside the city walls, perched on a 
 hill and surrounded with a military looking colonnade, is the 
 Church of the Madonna of St. Luke, whither hundreds of 
 pilgrims yearly wend their way. From this eminence one 
 may review the splendid scenery made imperfect by the 
 tunnels, and, in addition, contemplate that majestic reach of 
 country stretching over mountain and vale, with horizon so 
 generous as to include the waters of the Adriatic. The 
 church is modern, but the utmost was demanded of its 
 builders, for it was to be the resting-place of that treasure 
 bequeathed by the apostle. As an artist, Luke did not win 
 great renown, but the relic is none the less precious to the 
 faithful, who climb up the rugged ascent that they may 
 breathe in its sacred presence. In the academy of arts is 
 Raphael's gem, Saint Cecelia, one of those marvellous con- 
 ceptions of genius which it seems impossible to attribute to 
 
104 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 mortal agency. A more graceful portrayal of expression 
 and soul does not exist. Around it copyists were clustered, 
 but their most skilful brush could do little more than im- 
 itate, in a weak way, the transcendent faces of the master. 
 
 The approach to Venice does not break upon one unawares. 
 The railway and its sturdy bed are constantly licked by the 
 blue waves, thus making the coming into Venice a sort of 
 sea journey. The real Venetian sensation creeps grad- 
 ually over the stranger some distance away, preparing him 
 for the city itself; for, known as Venice is through genera- 
 tions of writers, it presents as many facets as a diamond. 
 It is full of surprises at every turn ; strange sights appear ; 
 descriptions fail to verify the reality ; things are not what 
 they have been represented ; and so it goes to the end of the 
 chapter. It is this very uncertainty that makes the water- 
 logged town so interesting. I remember my astonishment, 
 and yet I ought to have been prepared for it, on coming out 
 of the railway station, and beholding the gondolas. The 
 canal was blocked with a flotilla of most solemn and fune- 
 real craft, very suggestive of death. I had pictured in my 
 mind gayly painted and caparisoned gondolas, with plumes 
 and ornaments, and boatmen arrayed in fantastic costume ; 
 but nothing of the kind came floating across my vision. 
 Black, plain, ordinary, were boat and boatmen. But once 
 in a gondola, on those soft cushions, feeling yourself gliding 
 noiselessly over the waters, and the perfection of earthly 
 transit has been attained. A balloon may be equally de- 
 lightful, but it is reprehensibly selfish in comparison. Go 
 where you may in Venice, these good-natured gondoliers 
 are present. They are the prototypes of the cab-men, but a 
 vast deal more honest. They serve you more cheaply, are 
 more entertaining, and less piratical. You can drive any 
 bargain with them, and feel tolerably sure not to be swindled. 
 They are good workers, and ply the oar honestly ; but who 
 
VENICE. 105 
 
 wants them to splash and whirl through the still canals, 
 and thus shock the propriety of Venice? Life among the 
 lagoons is made for ease and hurrying slowly. Thrice I 
 skimmed over St. Mark's Square in a gondola, landing at 
 Florian's, whence I gazed upon the newly made lake and its 
 improvised fleet. When the wind is vicious, the waters 
 rush in upon the city without the slightest fear or favor, 
 causing great alarm, and, likewise, considerable sport. You 
 must often trust to men's backs for conveyance ; and water, 
 in any form, never causes much consternation among these 
 swarthy fellows. But the waters recede from the unequal 
 contest with astonishing rapidity, and in a short time the 
 gay piazza is alive again with its motley crowds, and the 
 sacred pigeons pose for corn and bread. 
 
 St. Mark's Square, enclosed on three sides by imposing pub- 
 lic structures, and at one end by the splendid church of the 
 same name, is not large, but most precious to the Venetians. 
 It serves them as a congregating place. They walk up and 
 down the arcades, and discuss questions of moment, while 
 the army of tourists send delegations into its very centre to 
 gaze and gape at the Campanile, the quaint bell-tower, or 
 the bronze horses surmounting the oriental gateway of the 
 cathedral. Very animated, at all hours, is this breathing- 
 place. The cafes retain their glitter and merriment far into 
 the night, the nocturnal pilgrims keep their social corners, 
 and are not admonished of the flight of time by the gigantic 
 Vulcans across the square. As there are no drives into the 
 country, the people perforce must amuse themselves as best 
 they can ; and St. Mark's classic precinct is the chosen meet- 
 ing-place. 
 
 And what square in the world is flanked by a cathedral 
 like this of St. Mark? Absolutely none. Its striking ori- 
 ental character constitutes its charm, for the stranger is 
 brought face to face with one of the most magnificent speci- 
 
 5* 
 
106 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 mens of Asiatic architecture. The five great domes, with 
 their bulbous tops and needle-like spires, proclaim its trans- 
 Adriatic origin, while the broad facade, profusely adorned 
 with mosaics, sculpture, and architectural fantasies, lends a 
 decided touch of that sensuous age long since vanished. 
 The exterior is decidedly original, with numerous arcades 
 and recesses upheld by marble columns many deep, with 
 the arching porch embellished by quaint paintings ; while 
 within, the blaze of gold and flashing mosaics quite makes 
 one's eyes tingle. The entire surface inside is covered with 
 the richest mosaics, representing figures in Sacred history — 
 such gorgeousness as western eyes never beheld ; and the 
 pavement, oppressed by so many generations, still shows its 
 lustre. In places it is very uneven and somewhat slippery, 
 and a fall is possible, owing to the uncertain light. St. 
 Mark's is as much a source of study as a Greek lexicon. 
 Visit after visit but serves to intensify its glories. There is 
 always something new and exquisite to delight the fancy 
 and to stimulate the imagination. The curtain can never 
 drop on this venerable cradle of Christianity. 
 
 In loyal sentinelship stands the lofty Campanile, grim and 
 bald, only a few steps from the principal portal ; and ambi- 
 tious humanity may ascend its easy incline to the uttermost 
 platform, and there survey the ancient confines of the repub- 
 lic. The view is generous, including land, sea, lagoon, and 
 far-off mountain-tops ; but, on looking down upon the city, 
 no one would dream that there were more than a hundred 
 little islands and as many canals, for the buildings are so 
 close to one another that the watery streets and alleys are 
 completely lost in the brown maze of tiles and chimney- 
 pots. At the base of the tower are three tall flag-poles, 
 painted in bright colors, with modest streamers floating 
 from their cross-trees, ready evidently to play their part in 
 holiday dressing ; and beyond, almost resting on the edge 
 
 
VENICE. 107 
 
 of the Grand Canal, are the two granite columns brought 
 from Syria in the twelfth century, — the one surmounted by 
 the winged lion, the other by St. Theodore riding a croco- 
 dile. He was the patron saint for many years, until suc- 
 ceeded by St. Mark ; but why he chose the unwieldy croco- 
 dile, instead of a donkey, to ride, is unexplained. 
 
 The doges' palace, built in the Venetian style, light and 
 airy, and fantastic, too, is by all odds the most interesting 
 edifice in the city. It lacks the bizarrarie of St. Mark's, 
 but its facade displays the taste and opulence of the Middle 
 Ages better than any other ; and, beside, every nook and 
 corner is garnished with those startling events which make 
 the history of Venice so vivid and thrilling. Its interior is not 
 so gorgeous as I had looked for, and yet it is rich in plain- 
 ness, especially the ceilings, which are thick with paintings 
 and frescos. The battle pictures are striking in their real- 
 ism, presenting a fine study of warfare as waged under the 
 doges. The vast council hall is superb with portraits and 
 paintings, the frieze being adorned with doges in oil ; and a 
 monotonous set they were. The artist made them bear a 
 strong resemblance to each other, and the uniform costume 
 of the age prevented innovation in that respect ; but the 
 master-piece of the chamber is Tintoretto's Paradise. 
 
 This is the colossus of paintings, sixty by thirty feet ; and 
 a more conglomerate assemblage of figures does not exist. 
 The entire picture is made up of seraphs and other equally 
 interesting personages, who seem to spin round in awkward 
 antics quite regardless of celestial grace or mundane propri- 
 ety. An attentive study of Tintoretto's massive conception 
 makes one's head swim at the thought of going to such a 
 gymnastic paradise. 
 
 The palace is rich in paintings, sculptures, books, manu- 
 scripts, coins, and archaeology. Every room introduces an 
 era of history, which is now pathetic in spite of all we may 
 
108 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 think. The marbles in the exquisite arcades show the 
 skill of schools lost forever, while the imposing staircases, 
 with elaborately carved balustrades and statues, bear tes- 
 timony to what Venice was under Dandolo and Mocenigo. 
 Their power for vengeance, not less than for art, is con- 
 nected with this marble edifice, and intimately, too. 
 
 You may pass directly across the Bridge of Sighs into the 
 gloomy stone prison, on the other side of a narrow canal. 
 This celebrated bridge is seen to more effect from the quay 
 in front : it then has a certain beauty, but the interior is 
 plain and easily done, and the squalid prison is not inviting. 
 I saw its dismal cells where patriots or traitors prepared 
 themselves for the axe, and indulged in the conventional 
 amount of soliloquy necessary to the time and place : then 
 I came away wholly satisfied. 
 
 Another interesting place is the arsenal, more so, perhaps, 
 to many travellers than the cathedral or the palace, owing 
 to its intelligible contents, although to-day it is only the 
 shadow of its former self. The decadence of Venice is 
 emphasized there, and its halls and galleries tell their great 
 story. In drooping fragments are standards captured at 
 Lepanto, for on that proud day Barbarigo and his Venetian 
 galleys led the left wing, and there also are cannon, am- 
 munition, suits of ancient armor — among them one given 
 by Henry of Navarre — instruments of torture, and, lastly, 
 the shrivelled and unmeaning- relics of that famous barge 
 in which the annual wedding of the Adriatic took place. 
 Its loss is irreparable, but its sacred cinders have become 
 a national trust. I saw the gilded barge that carried Victor 
 Emanuel across the canals on the occasion of his visit years 
 ago. It is very rich in its appointments, reminding one of 
 those last days of Cleopatra. No European museum would 
 be judged complete unless some object, more historic 
 than history warrants, could be pointed out. So here, in 
 
THE ARSENAL. IO9 
 
 Venice, they show you a rude iron helmet once worn by the 
 ruthless Attila. It may be even so, but there is a wide mar- 
 gin for doubt. The work at the arsenal was dull ; its forges 
 were dead, and its mammoth hammers silent. A pall hung 
 over this once busy spot, where thousands of artisans built a 
 navy that swept the seas. The royal soldiers, standing 
 guard, blinked in the warm sun, and doubtless wondered, 
 in their sluggish way, what there was in the arsenal to in- 
 terest strangers. 
 
 Not far from the arsenal, but lying at the very extremity 
 of Venice, are the public gardens, where weary feet recover 
 from the day's labor, and mirth-loving souls are regaled 
 with music and dance. Napoleon, deeming public pleas- 
 ures of greater moment than public morals, tore down some 
 convents that occupied the ground, and set about laying out 
 this somewhat uncompromising park. It can never be beau- 
 tiful, but it is precious to the land-denied citizens, who flock 
 there with their families to enjoy Sunday afternoons or 
 balmy evenings. It was there that I saw the only horses in 
 Venice, for the queen of the sea is an unhorsed city ; but 
 the cavalry have stables in the park, and thus answer all the 
 purposes of a circus for the young people. Their daily 
 evolutions attract admiring crowds of nurses and babies, 
 who get absorbed in the gay spectacle of horsemanship. 
 
 Walk slowly along the broad Sclavonian quay, paved 
 with marble and dignified at intervals with quondam pal- 
 aces, now offices and shops, over bridges, pausing to watch 
 the black gondolas glide into the darkness of remote water- 
 ways, brushing past strange men whose language is not of 
 Venice, and whose negligent and bright dresses tell of orien- 
 tal origin, avoiding the projecting bowspits of the tan-sailed 
 craft, till at last the Grand Canal is reached, and you have 
 traversed one of the famous promenades of Europe. This 
 quay is a sort of neutral ground between Venice and the 
 
HO AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 rest of the world. To its strong masonry sailors tie their 
 vessels, and on its generous flag-stones the rough and pict- 
 uresque fellows recline, and gamble with cards and dice. 
 
 If the rich Church of the Frari, the Westminster Abbey 
 of Venice, becomes overburdening in its splendor, or St. 
 Maria della Salute, imposing and massive, across the canal, 
 or the Academy, with its wealth of Titiens and Tintorettos, 
 fails to interest, then a stroll up and down this noisy, crowd- 
 ed landing-place is stimulating and restful. 
 
 Another favorite promenade is from St. Mark's Square 
 through the Merceria, a narrow and crooked street leading to 
 the Rialto. All the industry of modern times, and ancient, 
 too, for aught I know, has been emptied into the shops of 
 this surging thoroughfare. You can suggest nothing in vain. 
 The skill of every nation and people is spread out in a sort 
 of semi-barbarous profusion, especially jewelry and precious 
 stones, which glitter incessantly in the overarching shadows. 
 The merchants are anxious to sell, and drive sharp bargains 
 with the unwary. All through this stirring street the crowd 
 never breaks, nor do the loud cries of peddlers cease. 
 From morn till night the eager rush of trade goes on, giving 
 a lingering representation of the days when argosies dis- 
 charged their silks and spices. 
 
 At the end of this turmoil is the Rialto, a weather-stained, 
 humpbacked old bridge, choked with haberdashers' stalls 
 and a ceaseless concourse of odd-looking people. This old 
 bridge is famous even at home, and is not without honor ; 
 for years it was the only one spanning the Grand Canal, and 
 over its marble arch doges and Shylocks without number 
 have passed. Their influence has been most dispropor- 
 tionately preserved : that of the former has all but disap- 
 peared, but that of the latter will be more lasting than the 
 foundations of the city. Old Shylocks, with gaberdine 
 and stall, still rub their close fists together and chuckle at 
 
THE RIALTO. Ill 
 
 fate. The Jews are probably rated about their usances just 
 as they were when Bassanio borrowed his ducats. But great 
 exigencies are rare in these days, and the city's merchants 
 no longer worry about their ventures : times are easier, and 
 they take life differently. 
 
 The mention of Jews calls to my mind that section of 
 Venice known as the Ghetto, where these people dwell. 
 The visit may be comfortably made by gondola, and one 
 sees the ideal Israelite in his own territory. The houses 
 are high, and for the most part squalid and pestilential ; not 
 more so, however, than in other parts of the city, — but im- 
 agination has a great deal to do with such casual observa- 
 tions, consequently they are lofty and pestilential. The 
 Ghetto certainly is not a tempting quarter, but one ought to 
 glide through its tortuous canals, if only for curiosity's sake. 
 
 The splendid marble palaces which have invested Venice 
 with its wealth of romance and history are best seen from 
 the gondola, as you float leisurely up and down the grand 
 canal. They revel in all kinds of architecture, — the rennais- 
 sance, the Byzantine, the picturesque Gothic, the Venetian, 
 and other styles not strictly conformable to any recognized 
 school. In the old time their ownership was designated by 
 piles driven in front of the entrances and painted in different 
 colors, which served the purpose of door-plates or hatch- 
 ments. The gondoliers have never been remarkable for 
 literary attainments, but they were never color blind : hence 
 they had no trouble in landing the lords and princesses at 
 the right portals. These parti-colored posts are now fre- 
 quently mistaken for the conventional sign of the hair- 
 dresser, and ludicrous adventures happen. While each of 
 these noble structures presents its own peculiar features, 
 there is still a sameness in gazing at them day after day ; so 
 it is well to read up the history of half a dozen of the more 
 important, and then visit them and behold the elaborate 
 
112 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 embellishments of a real old palace, — its sumptuous court 
 with slender pillars upholding sculptured galleries, its grand 
 staircase leading to magnificent apartments above, where 
 art in every form has adorned the lofty walls with a rich- 
 ness worthy of an empire : then you can return to your black 
 boat and muse over the sights you have seen. 
 
 The pleasantest spot in or about Venice is the small 
 island set like a gem in the silver sea, and the home of the 
 monks of the Armenian monastery of San Lazero. It 
 might be accepted as a bit of true Paradise flung into the 
 waves, so enchanting is its face. The brotherhood take 
 infinite care to make it attractive ; they show a womanly 
 frenzy for house-cleaning, and a botanist's love for flowers. 
 Airy cloisters look out on blooming roses and nodding 
 plants, and hollow echoes are broken by melodious song- 
 birds. The buildings are neat and homelike, and the monks 
 are clean and well clothed. The library, of which they are 
 so proud, is exceedingly rich in oriental literature, many 
 volumes being the only copies extant. Here I was shown 
 specimens of exquisite pen-printing and illumination so per- 
 fect as to deceive the eye. These religious men give great 
 attention to printing, and their work-shop turns out doc- 
 trinal works, thickly interspersed with more worldly pro- 
 ductions. I bought an edition of Byron, — who, by-the-by, 
 once dwelt amid these cloisters for several months, — and 
 other works, some descriptive of the order of Mekhitar, 
 the founder. The monks are glad to receive strangers, 
 taking pleasure in explaining the doctrines of their creed, 
 and in gentle arguments concerning speculative beliefs. 
 
 Venice is so deliciously still, with no dust or rumbling 
 carriages, and no danger of being run over by careless 
 drivers, that one in love with these negative qualities of 
 existence might linger in the ancient city indefinitely. There 
 is enough to do in the way of sight-seeing. Venice was not 
 
VERONA. 113 
 
 made in a day, any more than Rome. There is an endless 
 round of churches, public buildings, palaces, excursions on 
 the lagoon, pleasure parties on moonlit nights, or the operas 
 and theatres, where form and fashion love to go. To add 
 to the allurements, a skating rink was in operation, and its 
 slippery surface was gay with the hilarious youth of the 
 town. There is a sense of eternal peace, both physical 
 and mental, connected with a sojourn in Venice : no other 
 spot seems to possess this boon ; — but then the whole 
 world cannot boast of another city like this lovely queen, 
 whose grace and charm are by-words throughout the 
 world. 
 
 The sun hung low on that May day in Verona, and the 
 sky was fair as a dream ; but such ought to be the conditions 
 in that sleepy and romantic town, whose age and loveliness 
 entitle it to the respect of the most confirmed cynic. Here 
 Shakespeare threw the light of his genius, and conceived so 
 many of his men and women, — Romeo, Valentine, Mercu- 
 tio, and Juliet, surely a galaxy that any place ought to be 
 proud of; and this association, I fancy, exercises an influ- 
 ence on the English and Americans journeying that way. I 
 thought no city in all Italy fairer than Verona. It has a 
 wealth of ruins and marbles, and, better than these, it pos- 
 sesses a situation marvellously beautiful, where it receives 
 the vigor of the mountain air and the fragrance of purple 
 fields and vineyards. Through its precincts dashes the 
 Adige, an earnest river, with capabilities for usefulness ; but 
 like all these streams it does not sing to the accompaniment 
 of turning wheels. 
 
 The tomb of Juliet is the Mecca for sentimental souls, 
 and its lonely neighborhood is infested with legions of migra- 
 tory humanity. Although three days was my sojourn in 
 the city of the Capulets and the Scaligers, this burial-place 
 claimed my first attention, and thither I went. Where its 
 
114 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 original site may have been is immaterial now ; the desire 
 for post-mortem topography has passed, and we must be 
 contented to look at the sarcophagus as we find it. If its 
 present position had been chosen by a Moltke, it could not 
 be more strategical. The environments are impregnable, 
 save to a charge of silver, for the last resting-place of the 
 unfortunate bride is in the back yard of a monastery, whose 
 lofty walls defy the exigencies of impecunious curiosity. 
 At the only gate of this little fortress stands a curt custodian, 
 who takes your admission fee with unemotional counte- 
 nance, dropping it into his pocket with a simple "Thanks !" 
 and at the same moment half despising the credulity of the 
 world. 
 
 At the extreme end of the uncultivated garden, beneath a 
 rude shed, reposes the coffin of Juliet. Unlike so many 
 sacred sights, this is at the liberty of the visitors. They 
 may cry over it, they may indulge in theatrical meditations, 
 or, better still, they may get inside and practise. The reg- 
 ulations are sorely lax, and yet we live in a relic-hunting 
 era. The sarcophagus, it is true, is neither ostentatious nor 
 sculptured. It is only a scooped-out block of stone, devoid 
 of ornament and mortuary verses, and, on the whole, very 
 unromantic and chilly. Its probable cost is not set forth, 
 though, judging by contemporaneous monuments, the Capu- 
 lets did not overdraw their bank account on the occasion of 
 their daughter's funeral — a circumstance which goes to 
 show that they possessed a wisdom which has now fallen 
 into desuetude. Sentiment had strewn wreaths and fugi- 
 tive flowers about the spot, and overhanging was a design, 
 then woefully faded and dusty, attached to which was a 
 card bearing the name of Shakespeare, with the further 
 information that the giver was a descendant of the poet. 
 Her reverential belief, so the card told us, impelled this 
 deed of love. I noticed that the bottom of the sarcophagus 
 
VERONA. 115 
 
 was thickly covered with pebbles and bits of glass, indicat- 
 ing that the guardians were neglectful ; but on inquiry, the 
 filthy old guide startled me with his cold-blooded answer : 
 "We have to do it, sir, or the visitors would hack it to 
 pieces ; so we throw in debris, which serves the purpose 
 and saves the tomb." He further edified me by the infor- 
 mation that it required some labor to keep the tomb sup- 
 plied. As I turned away from the garden toward the truly 
 beautiful scenes of Verona, I thought how much better it 
 would be to use the tomb for a public watering-trough than 
 for the deceiving of honest people. 
 
 Like Rome, Verona rejoices in a massive arena called 
 the amphitheatre, which, in its day, accommodated a hun- 
 dred thousand spectators ; but age and ruthless earthquakes 
 have demolished many of its arches and walls. Still enough 
 remains to give a good idea of its former completeness and 
 importance. Shops have seized hold of the moss-grown 
 arches, and small wares are offered for sale where once 
 rough warriors prepared themselves for bloody games. To- 
 day the great ring is noisy with the songs and speeches of 
 actors, for they have erected a theatre on the old battle- 
 ground — a rather amusing spectacle as one looks down 
 upon it from the upper tiers. If anything is out of place, it 
 is surely this improvised play-house in the stern old amphi- 
 theatre. 
 
 Verona has always been an important town, and is to-day. 
 Lying at the foot of the Alps and commanding the plains 
 of Lombardy, its value as a military centre is readily under- 
 stood. It is one of the strongest places in the country, 
 maintaining a large garrison of artillery and cavalry, whose 
 manoeuvres are calculated to strike terror into the hearts of 
 the travelling Gaul and German. Its fortifications were 
 once the envy of the world, for Sammichelli introduced 
 new features in the w T ay of bastions and walls ; and in his 
 
Il6 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 day he stood at the head of engineers. The names of Galli- 
 enus, Theodoric, and Jovian Charlemagne are connected 
 with the defences of Verona. They all did their work in 
 making the place as impregnable as possible, and still the 
 demands of modern warfare compel constant improvements. 
 
 In the square facing the loggia, or town hall, is the huge 
 statue of Dante, a recent creation, but very striking never- 
 theless, erected a few years ago by the Veronese, who take 
 pride in their connection with the master-poet. It was to 
 Verona that he came when the decree of exile had been 
 pronounced against him at Florence. Verona is the Boston 
 of Italy, and men of letters have always sought its society. 
 Nepos, Pliny, and that ancient singer, Catullus, were born 
 there ; so was Paul Veronese ; — therefore it seemed just the 
 refuge for the great Italian poet. 
 
 The relics of that aristocratic era are thickly scattered 
 about the streets, — palaces profusely ornamented with sculpt- 
 ured frieze or characteristic paintings, Gothic in style, but 
 yet imposing and elegant. Indeed, the Verona architecture 
 is happily in keeping with the natural beauty of the place, 
 which was intended by indulgent Nature to be lovely ; and 
 man seems to have recognized the fact in his handiwork. 
 
 The bridges over the Adige lay claim to picturesqueness ; 
 also, the quaint mills anchored in the stream where their 
 lazy wheels enjoy respite from too hard labor ; while along 
 the banks the arches and lofty houses show off to advan- 
 tage, and lend to the picture a pleasing background. 
 
 In church building the fathers of Verona were not behind 
 the sister cities in generosity and lavish ment. They spared 
 neither time nor money in gracing their city with those 
 splendid Gothic temples which have caused Verona to be- 
 come famous, in an age famous for ecclesiastical produc- 
 tions. Take the exquisite Church of Saint Anastasia, and 
 you get a conception of that delicate Gothic which distin- 
 
VERONA. 117 
 
 guished the republic of Verona from its neighbors. The 
 magnificent cathedral, with its beautiful portals, is another 
 masterpiece of this kind of design. Connected with the 
 edifice is one of the prettiest cloisters in Europe, consisting of 
 two galleries upheld by red marble columns thickly placed, 
 and enclosing a quadrangle of velvety grass and cardinal- 
 flowers. Here I thought might be found that sublime con- 
 dition of mind wdiich lifts the curtain of life and penetrates 
 beyond its mystery. San Zenone, with its great round win- 
 dow and delicate pilasters, is a fine model of the Roman 
 school of the twelfth century. The choir and the naves are 
 imposing and beautiful, and the walls are covered with 
 ancient frescos, now sadly blurred by time. Beneath the 
 church is a mammoth crypt, quite as large as the church, 
 though, of course, not so high ; and here are deposited 
 precious dust in solemn sarcophagi, while ranged about are 
 bas-reliefs and sculptures from the chisels of antiquity. 
 
 When the Corso was laid out, its necessities did not, fortu- 
 nately, demand the demolition of the sightly Arc of Triumph 
 which dates from the reign of Gallienus. It was preserved 
 in its dignity and wholeness, and, although it stretches 
 across the busy thoroughfare and impedes the steady cur- 
 rent, no one has yet been found to proclaim it a nuisance. 
 I regarded it as one of the interesting sights of Verona, and 
 quite in keeping with the vast colisseum not far distant. 
 Another lively picture is the old bridge Delia Pieta, shaggy 
 with drooping mosses, and noisy with ambling donkeys 
 and vociferous drivers. Looked at from any point, the typ- 
 ical Italian scene of gray monasteries with red tile roofs, 
 churches, wandering priests, marching soldiers, lazy sun- 
 bathers, and fruit-venders, unfolds itself, and charms the 
 beholder. Cross this venerable bridge, and the massive 
 gateway of the castle of San Pietro stares you in the face. 
 Guards challenge, but a permit is easily obtained, and the 
 
Il8 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 moat is passed. This was once the dwelling-place of The- 
 odoric the Great, and was not strongly constructed ; but its 
 very strength has twice invited the siege guns of the foe, and 
 twice been overthrown. But a united Italy has again given 
 it a formidable reputation among the strongholds of Europe. 
 Fortresses are very much alike, — the same show of power, 
 deep casemates, massive masonry, ponderous cannon, stacks 
 of small arms, and squads of artillery men lounging in their 
 mess-rooms, or undergoing the daily routine of the ser- 
 geant's drill. Aside from its history, San Pietro calls forth 
 no unusual exclamation, although its elevated position gives 
 a wide view of the surrounding country. For a view of the 
 town, its environs, and the mountain ranges, go to the beau- 
 tiful garden of Giusti, where the famous cypresses grow. 
 There you behold a generous panorama, which includes the 
 marvels of this favored province. What a wealth of scenery 
 is encompassed within the horizon ! Emigration from much 
 of the kingdom might be undertaken without a pang, but 
 to the dwellers beneath the star of Verona there can be but 
 one home. This garden is a gem of horticulture, great care 
 being bestowed on the plants and shrubbery ; but the aged 
 cypresses take care of themselves. They have long since 
 attained the ripe age of half a thousand years. They were 
 flourishing in vigor when the architects began their profound 
 studies, and still they show no signs of jspeedy demise. The 
 cypress is not a symmetrical tree, nor is it graceful ; and 
 these old fellows are heavy with corpulence, and gnarled 
 and seamed with the countless vexations of new men and 
 things. 
 
 No family in Italy, if indeed in all Europe, repose beneath 
 more elaborate memorials than the illustrious Scaligers. Art 
 and ornamentation went to the utmost limit of possibility in 
 designing these tombs. More superb Gothic, with lances and 
 delicate points and graceful tracery, cannot be found either 
 
 
VERONA. 119 
 
 in reality or in imagination. This splendid designing does 
 not present its rare charms as it should, for the tombs are 
 placed too near the church walls ; but enough is exposed to 
 convince one that the old rulers of the republic ought to be 
 happy even in death. 
 
 Hard by is the forum where Verona's statesmen used 
 to harangue the populace, and where the creations of poets 
 have made love or laid dark plots. Now its politics and 
 sentiment have fled, leaving in their stead that concourse of 
 trade and barter, which, if it were not in Verona, would 
 seem vulgar and unpleasant. The Piazza Delia Erbe, as it 
 is called, is spacious enough to contain a brilliant collection 
 of men and women buyers and sellers, who tramp up and 
 down its pavements all day long ; and then, when night 
 comes, especially if there be a moon, these same people 
 make the square as vivacious and picturesque as a spectac- 
 ular at the theatre. The classic facades and the lofty clock- 
 tower, the splendid palaces, the handsome fountain which 
 only strangers notice, the veritable tribune surmounted by a 
 canopy to ward off the sun from the precious pates of the 
 republican rulers, and even ordinary edifices devoid of 
 romance or history, lend their beauty and nobility to the 
 decoration of this romantic and fascinating piazza. 
 
 Even the hotel where I stayed, the due Torri, with 
 unsteady balconies and galleries and roughly paved court- 
 yard, may have served, for aught I know, as a palace, or as 
 the house of some dignitary ; but its glories have fled, taking 
 with them that luxurious larder of princes and merchants. 
 Verona is the true epic of her country — a perfect poem, 
 which sings of love and war, statecraft and fable. 
 
 Delightful, indeed, is the scenery between Verona and 
 Milan, — a succession of fertile valleys, leaping cascades, 
 foaming rivers, mountain peaks, and, most charming of all, 
 comely Lake Garda, glistening in the sunshine. To Amer- 
 
120 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ican eyes the country is refreshingly bright and peaceful, if 
 there does not linger a fretful cloud in the heavens. 
 
 In the afternoon I reached great, industrial Milan, the 
 seat of half the manufacturers of the kingdom. It bears but 
 slight relationship with most Italian cities, for not one ap- 
 proaches it in that wealth and importance so indispensable 
 to the nineteenth century. Put Milan in England, and she 
 would not suffer, so well established are her industries. 
 There is a breadth about things Milanese. The streets are 
 wide and clean, the public buildings contain live men, and 
 the theatres are the best in the country. Evidently the in- 
 habitants, proud as they are, do not waste their energies on 
 reveries and retrospection. They realize their place in the 
 world, and mean to deserve it. 
 
 This was made apparent to me within a few hours after 
 my arrival. I strolled across the shadows of that colossal 
 Gothic monument to the great arcade dedicated to Victor 
 Emanuel, and occupied by hundreds of shops, cafes, and 
 offices. This handsome structure is six hundred feet in 
 length, seventy in height, and as wide as a boulevard ; while 
 in the centre rises a huge dome many feet above the adjoin- 
 ing roof. The form is that of a Latin cross, and the four 
 great arms are honeycombed with these places of business. 
 In the day the massive glass covering admits abundant light, 
 and at night the innumerable gas-jets, high up on the little 
 balconies, shed a dazzling lustre over the interior. The 
 manner of lighting the gas is interesting. A miniature en- 
 gine, propelled by clock-work, performs the nightly journey, 
 speeding up and down the cornices, leaving a broad, band 
 of light in its wake. In an instant the vast interior gleams 
 with noon-day splendor ; the little shops and cafes add their 
 illumination, thus giving to the arcade a frieze and a dado 
 of richest gold. Then the promenading commences, and 
 the marble pavements are not silent for hours. The glitter 
 
MILAN. 121 
 
 holds out, and music and refreshments weave their irresist- 
 ible spell. In rainy weather no place is so popular as this, 
 and none so dirty ; but good-nature and pleasure suffer no 
 abatement, and trade goes on the same as usual. 
 
 Milan is a great place for marble-working, more statues 
 being cut here than anywhere else ; and this arcade is gen- 
 erously supplied with a choice collection of worthies — 
 among them Dante, Savonarola, old Marco Polo, Michael 
 Angelo, the crafty Machiavel, and Count Cavour. Cavour 
 is well memorialized here, for near the station he has an im- 
 posing statue, and public streets and piazzas have taken his 
 revered name. Cavour was most emphatically the greatest 
 man of his day. He did what Bismarck could not do : he 
 welded discordant states into a homogeneous kingdom, and 
 left his native Italy strong and respected by all the world. 
 
 The Brera gallery, with its wealth of pictures, contains 
 that celebrated work of Raphael, the "Marriage of the Vir- 
 gin " — the product of his youth, but bearing evidence of his 
 transcendent genius. This painting left an ineffaceable mem- 
 ory, standing distinct among the many that I saw while in 
 Europe, for the expression and arrangement are marvellous. 
 In another section of this elaborate museum are collections 
 of antiquities in bronze, marble, and the Middle Age sculpt- 
 ures of Agostino Basti, all worth an attentive examination. 
 
 The venerable church of Saint Ambrose, founded by that 
 father in the fourth century, is a quaint structure, combin- 
 ing the qualities of the sanctuary with those of a curiosity 
 shop. No doubtful origin is attributed to any object within 
 its massive walls. Each has a startling history, which the 
 glib guide reels oft" at so much a minute. Relics innumer- 
 able are exposed, but the most startling of all is the serpent 
 which the Lord conjured into a rod in order to assure Moses 
 of His presence. It is now bronze ; and as it clings to one 
 of the columns, it seems to have given itself up to eternal 
 
122 AALESUND TO TETUAIV. 
 
 torpor. This and Da Vinci's "Last Supper" are enough to 
 make any city happy ; but the cathedral is even super- 
 remarkable for its relics and wonders. 
 
 This stupendous mass of needles, lances, turrets, spires, 
 steeples, and statues does not need myth to make it renowned 
 and sublime. The Milanese, in their enthusiasm, term it the 
 eighth wonder, but nearly every people rejoice in this ordi- 
 nal acquisition; even the hardy population of Throndhjem 
 in Norway think their rude church worthy to rank with 
 the Pyramids and the Hanging Gardens, while the Sevillians 
 are just as sure concerning their grand edifice. I unhes- 
 itatingly put the Seville cathedral first, and Saint Peter's and 
 this may fight it out between them. In elaboration and 
 detail the Milan structure surpasses both ; but in solemn 
 dignity and repose the Spanish rival is ahead. The former, 
 however, is one of the largest churches ever built, covering 
 more than 100,000 feet, and its material is of the richest. 
 In its construction, both inside and out, white marble has 
 been exclusively employed, and has been carved into thou- 
 sands of figures and symbols. No building was ever more 
 lavishly adorned than this : not a vacant space appears. 
 Every spot has its tenant ; even the capitals of the huge 
 columns are like so many little cells, and in each a stone 
 image is placed. There never was a work like this before, 
 and there never will be again. Gothic from end to end and 
 from pavement to pinnacle, all the quaint conceits of that 
 style have been introduced and emphasized, so that now the 
 most inventive mind could not conceive of an additional 
 scrape of the chisel. To be sure I was deceived about the 
 roof, which had all the appearance of most delicate fret-work ; 
 but a strong opera-glass revealed the cheat. It was merely 
 the effect of cunning paint-brushes. After that set-back 
 my observations became more critical, and I felt a perfect 
 right to dispute the genuineness of gems and jewels. The 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 1 23 
 
 vast and silent interior, with its fifty gigantic pillars deeply 
 Muted and surmounted with extravagant ornaments, with 
 here and there a pulpit and gorgeous sounding-board high 
 above the floor, the glittering altar a church in itself, the 
 choir with its polished railings, and perchance some relig- 
 ious ceremonial with torches and chants and dazzling vest- 
 ments, presents a spectacle worthy the brush of Titian. 
 Quietly stroll about and view the sculptures and the dec- 
 orations, and you will be rewarded. There are so many 
 objects, that description is impossible ; but one, I am sure, 
 never fails to impress the visitor, and that is the horrible 
 anatomical undertaking of Marcus Agratus. His zeal led 
 him to represent, in all its revolting reality, the body of 
 Bartholomew after being skinned. The saint stands in the 
 nakedness of a cadaver in a dissecting-room, holding his 
 skin over his shoulders; and if the study is not pleasing, it 
 certainly contributes its mite to the incongruities of the 
 cathedral. 
 
 From the flayed saint just as he was, to the silver statue 
 of St. Ambrose as he was not, is quite a step : but nothing 
 of this kind is out of place here. In the resplendent 
 sacristy, so full of jewels and precious relics, are two life- 
 size silver statues, one representing Ambrose, the other St. 
 Carlo Borromeo, both clad in gleaming bullion, which, in 
 the flickering light, fairly sparkles as though endowed with 
 life. These senseless and vulgar caricatures of pious men, 
 whose years on earth were spent in submission and humil- 
 ity, show as well as anything can the uncontrollable frenzy 
 which possessed the builders of this tremendous church. 
 
 In and about the edifice there are 4,000 statues, busts, 
 and mythical figures of princes, saints, and beasts ; and 
 yet the mania for increasing the population is by no means 
 weakened, but goes on year by year. Time is no respecter 
 of these images, and some crumble into hideous bur- 
 
124 AALESUND TO TETUAJV. 
 
 lesques, or fall to the ground and are broken beyond the 
 coroner's power of recognition ; then a new generation 
 takes its turn in filling the niches and cornices, and the 
 world continues to marvel. If one goes up the 500 steps 
 to the lofty spire — and surely one ought to do it — the walk 
 along the roof brings one face to face with these images. 
 They then lose their serenity, or fierceness, as the case may 
 be, and become deeply pitted blocks of expressionless stone. 
 From the tip-top one can only appreciate the vastness of 
 the cathedral, for there the roof spreads out like a small 
 park, and the minarets which from below seem like needles 
 among the clouds, now become clumsy towers with blunted 
 points, and the shapely spires are covered with unsightly 
 knobs. But allow your vision a cosmopolitan sweep, and 
 the sight is magnificent. The mountain ranges of Switzer- 
 land loom against the sky, while in envious attitudes lie the 
 Italian mountains. A grand procession of noble summits 
 passes by in review. Mont Cenis, Mont Blanc, the Great 
 Bernard, the Simplon, the Bernese Alps, and the graceful 
 Apennines are distinctly recognized from this religious peak 
 of Milan. Once I climbed that height just as the sun was 
 declining, when the scene was alive with changing colors 
 and shadows, creating a superb intermingling of patch- 
 work hues, such as nature sometimes revels in but rarely 
 unfolds. The distant mountains became red, blue, and 
 dark purple in that brief moment, — for the spectacle moved 
 as if controlled by the wand of a spirit, never twice alike in 
 its nervous haste to charm the beholder and leave him 
 eager for more. From this pinnacle I descended, through 
 the mazy passages, brushing past the grim statues into the 
 uncertain twilight of the cathedral, pausing to admire the 
 red flood pouring through the three great windows of the 
 choir and to listen to the faint chants of the vespers, then 
 out into the open air for one more walk around the white 
 
OUT OF ITALY. 1 25 
 
 walls, with their pilasters and lavishments shooting up story 
 on story until they end in the slender points far above, all 
 so ingeniously carved and sculptured, until the mass seemed 
 like the fantasy of a dream, or the grand caprice of an ice- 
 storm. 
 
 Disappointed indeed was I that an unmerciful rain shut 
 out the beauties of the Italian lakes : such weather would 
 almost darken the glow of true happiness, to say noth- 
 ing of the havoc it played with those gems of scenery. 
 I waited in Milan a week, and there was no abatement of 
 the storm. A cold, drizzly rain had set in, and the skies 
 were dark. Regretfully I took the train, and was whirled 
 past those charming spots to unattractive Turin, with its 
 arcades and vermouth shops. The next morning the pict- 
 uresque climb to the Mont Cenis tunnel, with an occasional 
 sunburst, revealed a rugged landscape with numerous 
 marvels of engineering, — across viaducts dizzy above the 
 rocky stream, skirting abysses whose frightful depths drew 
 one from the open window lest the balance of the carriage 
 be lost, and plunging into dense but merely introductory 
 caves, until the last Italian outpost was reached. The 
 cross over the door of the little Bardonneche custom-house 
 was the last of Italy, and in a moment more the gloom of 
 the great tunnel closed upon us. The transit is not uncom- 
 fortable, but the lingering feeling is novel. The time 
 occupied is half an hour, high up a mountain-side, pen- 
 etrating its fearful depths, shut out from sunlight and the 
 world : no wonder there is a new sensation to be added to 
 one's list. Gradually the light comes back, and the journey 
 is over ; and below, seemingly inaccessible, nestles the little 
 French town of Modane. How the train crept in zigzag 
 course down the steep mountain-sides I know not, but 
 down, down it went, until the end was reached, and Italy 
 lay beyond the mighty barrier. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NORWAY. 
 
 EARLY in July I was sailing along the rocky coast of 
 Norway. Wild and desolate it is, with fissures and 
 huge indentations, fringed with heavy pine woods, with 
 scarcely a sign of life save an occasional lighthouse keep- 
 er's humble cot, or some fugitive fishing smack tossing at 
 anchor. The skies were soft and cloudless, and the sea 
 was motionless. The air was warm, and nobody felt dis- 
 posed to go to sleep until very late : the fascinations of the 
 hour were too potent to be rudely slighted, and long after 
 the morning watch was pacing the deck the enchanted 
 passengers remained awake. This reluctance to turn away 
 from the splendors of the unsinking sun was noticeable 
 throughout Norway. On Sunday morning, just as the 
 bells of the cathedral were rousing drowsy sleepers, our 
 steamer came into Christiansand. It was my first glimpse 
 of the country, and it proved a typical one. Unlike South- 
 ern countries, where a variety and richness of architecture 
 prevail, Norway presents a plain and unembellished monot- 
 ony. The severity of the climate and the slenderness of the 
 public purse discourage architectural wonders, but the 
 sturdy and wholesome characteristics of the people seem 
 to have been impressed on the public and private buildings. 
 It is a country which insists on making architectural descrip- 
 tions painfully laconic. 
 
 The town of Christiansand, with its few thousand inhab- 
 itants, is important for the reason that all towns of this size 
 are important in Norway. It contains two or three large 
 
CHRIS TIANSA ND. 1 2 7 
 
 buildings, and the usual number of shops and hotels. Its 
 houses are wooden, scrupulously white and well cared for, 
 but never ambitious to rise above two stories. Ground is 
 evidently cheap, as no party walls encourage neighborly 
 dissension and hatred. Each house has abundant territory 
 about it, and the dazzlingly green earth makes the clap- 
 boards glisten in the sunlight. I noticed that nearly every 
 window, particularly on the lower floors, was fitted up as 
 a conservatory, where exotics and vines might withstand 
 the rigors of the long winter, and gladden the eyes of the 
 passers by. In no way could the kindly disposition of the 
 people be more beautifully portrayed than by these inex- 
 pensive attempts at home ornamentation. The men I met 
 during my stroll were polite, well dressed, and eager to 
 give information as to the sights of the place. There is 
 not much to see, although the walk through the park, with 
 its cascades and curious bridges, gives one an insight into 
 the deep love the Norwegians bear toward out-of-door life. 
 Small as the town is, it has a beautiful breathing-spot in 
 this public pleasure-ground, which is laughably out of pro- 
 portion to the needs of its people. Notwithstanding the 
 union between Sweden and Norway, a jealousy exists 
 which years do not heal. Each people claim a superiority 
 of strength, of intellect, or something else, and will not let 
 go. Practically the two countries are entirely distinct, each 
 taking care of its own interests, levying taxes, maintaining 
 garrisons, and carrying on internal improvements. The 
 soldiers of Sweden are not allowed to come into Norway. 
 Such a performance would set the country ablaze with rev- 
 olution. So they stay across the frontier, and let the Norske- 
 men protect themselves. The modest little fort at Chris- 
 tiansand is looked after by spruce young soldiers who 
 stared at us as our steamer glided past the ramparts, and 
 some of them waved their caps in answer to our salutations. 
 
128 AALRSUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 The sea journey to Christiania is as charming as soft air 
 and brilliant skies can make it. Early the next morning 
 we came alongside the American-looking docks of the cap- 
 ital, and underwent the easy ordeal of the custom officers. 
 It was not very trying, and required no mental reservation. 
 The baggage was passed, and a porter wheeled it to the 
 hotel. Christiania is blessed with a delightful situation on 
 a great fjord, whose waters are as still as a mill-pond, being 
 land-locked by densely wooded hills whose gentle slopes 
 contribute to the beauty of the city. Its population in- 
 creases yearly, and is now computed at more than 100,000. 
 Its houses and public buildings are constructed largely of 
 brick covered with white stucco, and, although not exactly 
 imposing, possess a substantial air that counts for a good 
 deal. The streets are generously wide, but the paving is 
 painfully underdone ; but happily there is no need of long 
 suffering, as the distances are short. The churches are not 
 remarkable, nor are any edifices save possibly the parlia- 
 ment house and the palace. The latter has the advantage 
 of being on the brow of a hill, and at the end of a wide 
 street, so as to display its shapely form to good advantage. 
 Everything about this royal residence denoted frugality and 
 an eye for economy. There were no elaborate decorations, 
 no expensive picture gallery, and yet I thought its interior 
 decidedly tasteful and dignified. 
 
 After a year spent in more southern countries, a journey 
 in Norway is refreshing in every sense. The freedom from 
 table d'hote formalities, the long stretches of woods, lands, 
 and fields, the magnificent river scenery, the mountains, the 
 strange lodging-places, the plain fare, and the utter inde- 
 pendence of movement are not to be had elsewhere. Vis- 
 itors are getting more numerous, and prices begin to feel 
 ambitious ; but the small wayside stations are still main- 
 tained under a mild sort of governmental supervision, and 
 
AMERICANS WELCOMED. 1 29 
 
 at these one finds the real old-fashioned comfort and 
 cheer. 
 
 Fishing always attracted many summer tourists, but lately 
 English parsons and business men seem to have caught 
 the Norwegian mania, and they fairly overrun the fjord 
 country. I was there five weeks, and in an extended tour 
 met only a few Americans : the travellers were English or 
 German. 
 
 No people are so welcome as Americans. The Ger- 
 mans are hated, and the English sneered at, but we have 
 no trouble. Many a time has the host or hostess plied me 
 with questions concerning my country, and often they have 
 brought out photographs of western farms and cities, and 
 asked about them. These pictures had been sent by rela- 
 tives and friends, so that the people at home might see how 
 America looked. In many topographical aspects Norway 
 and New Hampshire are much alike — more so, I believe, 
 than any two of our states. The mountain scenery is almost 
 identical, and so are the rugged features which produce the 
 splendid waterfalls : but there it ends. Only Norway is 
 invaded by those magnificent fjords or inland seas, which 
 ramify in all directions as if to coax to themselves all the 
 splashing cascades and roaring torrents. It is these superb 
 water-ways that give an indescribable charm to the country. 
 Without them travelling would be difficult, owing to the 
 abruptness of the mountains. Imagine a deep fissure in 
 some great rock filled with water, then magnify rock and 
 fissure millions of times, and you get some idea of a fjord. 
 By some extraordinary upheaval mountains must have been 
 split in twain, and the vast abyss flooded from the ocean. 
 
 Heeding the advice of an old stager in Norway travelling, 
 
 I bought a cariole and harness, with the understanding that 
 
 they were to be taken off my hands at a fair price when I 
 
 had done with them ; and it turned out to be an admirable 
 
 6* 
 
130 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 plan. If one owns the equipage, the uncertainty of the 
 station accommodation has no terrors. The government 
 furnishes horses at these stopping-places, and carioles, too, 
 but the latter are often the worse for wear, and give a 
 nervous person no end of trouble. My cariole boasted of 
 springs, which oftentimes assuaged the unevenness of the 
 roads ; but springs are unusual, and are considered a little 
 too luxurious by the natives, who prefer a sound jolting to 
 such innovation. A cariole is an anomaly in the vehicle 
 family, and reminds one of a baby's cradle set on long 
 shafts. It has only one seat, but that seat has a generous 
 back that extends above the shoulders, and makes riding 
 easy, and in front the dashboard comes near hiding the 
 horse from view because of its height. The body of the 
 cariole is securely fastened on the long shafts, which run out 
 behind and furnish a rack for baggage, or a rest for the 
 station boy who attends you in order to take the horse back 
 when the next station is reached. Horses are let to go 
 from one station to another, a distance of seven or eight 
 English miles, when a change is made, and a new steed 
 and another boy are substituted. The cariole has two 
 wheels and no top, so in case of rain and mud the occupant 
 must take it unflinchingly. The temporal inconvenience, 
 however, is amply compensated for by the unobstructed 
 view which the cariole commands. 
 
 The car ride from Christiania to Eidsvold is rather at- 
 tractive, not alone for the scenery, but for the people one 
 meets. The natives are very polite, lifting their caps as 
 they enter the compartment, and in case of favors shown, 
 insist upon shaking hands with you on 'their departure. I 
 found this custom prevalent wherever I went : both men 
 and women practise it, and also the small post-boys. Set 
 in the partition between each compartment of the cars was 
 a tin tank of iced water, from which the thirsty passengers 
 
TO LILLEHAMMER. 131 
 
 quaffed their fill in a most approved Yankee fashion, thus 
 engendering dyspepsia and kidney troubles with lamentable 
 indifference. The Britishers viewed our indulgence with 
 a lofty contempt, but it tasted good in that far-off country. 
 In Geneva, the proprietor of the Belle Vue, encouraged by 
 a house full of transatlantic guests, imported some water 
 tanks for their use ; but they were not successful, and after 
 a trial had to be removed. In Norway a different fate has 
 been bestowed on these American institutions, and the 
 limpid stream never dries. 
 
 We changed to the boat after a two hours ride ; the cari- 
 oles were run on board, and we began the sail over the 
 mirrory Mjosen, the queen of Norwegian lakes. We 
 traversed the entire length, fifty odd miles, and landed at 
 Lillehammer. The scenery along the lake is not distinctively 
 national. The hills which encircle it are unimposing and 
 mild, but picturesque in their way, being thickly clothed 
 with pine and fir, and occasionally broken into verdant 
 fields and farms. There are a few villages to be seen, but 
 the habitations for the most part consisted of detached 
 houses and country seats scattered over the landscape. 
 Hamer is quite a town, and a railroad centre ; so it boasts of 
 an importance in the world. My cariole journey began at 
 Lillehammer, from where after tea I set out with three 
 companions for the next station eight miles distant. Our 
 caravan whirled over the magnificent turnpike in fine style, 
 my mouse-colored pony exhibiting an unlooked-for speed, 
 carrying me far ahead of the others ; but picking out horses 
 is purely a matter of luck, and many a time my steed has 
 failed utterly to comprehend my desires, and left me sadly 
 behind. 
 
 We rode till after ten o'clock at night, but the sky was 
 still bright and not a star twinkled. The hills threw no 
 shadows, and the belts of woods through which we dashed 
 
132 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 caused no uneasiness : the scene was heightened, if anything, 
 by the evening influence. We saw away on the left an 
 encampment of troops — militia, probably — undergoing its 
 annual evolutions. We passed singing peasants and dark- 
 ened chalets, for the people seek an early couch regardless 
 of the lengthened day, and at last we drew rein at the door 
 of the Fossegaarden station. This is quite a resort for fish- 
 ermen, and their demands have brought into existence a 
 new building where lodgers are accommodated, and where 
 we soon fell into profound slumber. The river Loug, so 
 pregnant with trout, is broken here by rapids called the 
 Hunnerfos, which roar like a young Niagara, and send 
 their refreshing spray high into the air. 
 
 From Fossegaarden to Dombaas there is a sameness to 
 the valleys and hills : the grander sights are not there. 
 The best part of Norway lies beyond, and in easy stages we 
 approached it. The mountains are not lofty and craggy, 
 but rather tame, and far up on their sides are farm-houses 
 and cultivated acres. The valleys possess a generous 
 width, and do not contract as in other parts of Norway. 
 They look inviting and fertile, and hold out inducements to 
 the dwellers. At regular distances of one norsk, or seven 
 English miles, a sorry, weather-beaten sign indicates that 
 the house is a public one, where the traveller may obtain 
 food and horses. Of course their accommodations are 
 somewhat primitive, and their larder restricted to the com- 
 mon things of life, but I never found any difficulty in get- 
 ting fed and comfortably cared for. I met an English cler- 
 gyman who carried a commissary department with him for 
 fear he might come across short commons ; but he told 
 me he seldom had occasion to use his provender, as the 
 tables along his route were excellent. If the tourist is ad- 
 dicted to carniverous indulgence he may suffer, for the sup- 
 ply of fresh meat is uncertain, but in its stead they serve 
 
POST STATIONS. 1 33 
 
 the most delicious salmon and trout, cooked to perfection. 
 Vegetables and berries are plentiful, and the cream rivals 
 that of the Channel Islands. The coffee is rarely drink- 
 able, and the tea would not take a prize. The bread is 
 execrable and the butter bears it company : but then, what 
 could one look for at these humble, out-of-the-way peasant 
 cots? 
 
 After a brisk drive in the morning air I never sat down to 
 the table except for business purposes, and the thought of de- 
 livering a lecture on cookery never entered my head. Fussy 
 and particular mortals would better keep away from the 
 Land of the Midnight Sun ; their presence is not wanted, 
 and their sneers are out of place. 
 
 Perhaps half of the stations are " fast," — that is, so 
 many horses must be kept at them all the time, — while the 
 others, being in sparsely settled districts, are not so restricted. 
 At these one must wait until the station-master collects the 
 animals, and in case of a large party the delay is not incon- 
 siderable. The farmers are obliged to furnish a certain 
 number of horses so many times a month ; otherwise the 
 public would have no way of getting from point to point. 
 I often pitied the honest farmers, who had no say in the 
 matter ; but then they have the same right to demand 
 horses when they go abroad. The price paid is regulated 
 by the government, and is trivial, at least so it seemed to 
 me, forty cents being charged for the seven miles, and, 
 besides, the horse has to be returned either by the post-boy 
 or by some traveller. Forty cents for fourteen miles is not 
 exorbitant, and it often happens that the horse is kept away 
 all day. 
 
 The stations are merely farm-houses built of wood, some- 
 times of logs, simply furnished, and not always clean, 
 but the price paid for entertainment is moderate, and one 
 ought not to complain. In the more pretentious stations I 
 
134 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 found a certain air of refinement, a dignity in the furniture 
 and the table-cloth, and an attempt at decoration that was 
 not to be laughed at. Pictures hung upon the walls, and 
 plants grew in the window-gardens. Everything looked 
 ancestral, and had the unmistakable stamp of former grand- 
 eur. I came across many a piece of antique furniture, such 
 as chairs, wardrobes, and bureaus, heavily carved, and orna- 
 mented with inlaid work of beautiful design. Antlers are 
 sure to be found over the door to serve as gun-racks, — for the 
 fanner adds hunting to his calling, as the deer and fox skins 
 on the floor attested. 
 
 The Norwegians are very religious, and sacred pictures 
 are found everywhere ; but generously interspersed were 
 photographs or prints of King Oscar and the queen, and in 
 some places Gen. Grant's familiar face looked down upon 
 the surprised American. I inferred from my conversations 
 with the station people and farmers whom I met, that al- 
 though the king was not so popular as his predecessor, the 
 pleasure-loving Charles, he did not fall far short in the esti- 
 mation of his subjects ; but they do not take kindly to mon- 
 archical institutions, and in case of their utter abolition the 
 grief would not be profound. The people are either too 
 poor or too negligent to buy albums for their pictures, and 
 so they tack them to the wall in a great circular collection, 
 where the caprices of smoke and weather transform some 
 into veritable curiosities. I have more than once had the 
 satisfaction of being mentally introduced to many of these 
 photographed worthies by garrulous but well meaning old 
 women, who labored under the impression that their names 
 and characteristics made me happy. 
 
 In some stations they showed me the quaintest and 
 rarest silver dishes and bowls I ever saw ; and once the kind 
 hostess, on the strength of my transatlantic nationality, 
 brought out from their hiding-place the jewels and trap- 
 
 
AN OLD DESCENDANT. 1 35 
 
 pings of her bridal day. It was a curious array of beads, 
 brooches, chains, and embroideries. She explained it all, 
 but her excitement caused her speech to come so rapidly 
 that much of her narrative was lost; still I understood the 
 pantomime very well. One strange bridal equipment was 
 a crown, not glittering with precious stones as they have 
 in palaces, but simply adorned with pearls and gold beads 
 strung^ on purple velvet. Crowned with this token of 
 an empire, the bride receives the congratulations of her 
 friends. 
 
 Not far from Moen, amidst a wild scenery of precipitous 
 cliffs and angry waters, I came across a monument set by 
 the roadside — a solitary memorial of a massacre. On this 
 spot Col. Sinclair with his Scotch troops was ruthlessly 
 slaughtered by the Norwegians, who lay in ambush for the 
 invaders, and wiped them from the face of the earth by 
 sending tons of rocks upon their heads. A more desolate 
 pass could not be found for such a death. Even the Gap of 
 Glencoe presents a more lively and attractive nice than this 
 Norwegian Thermopylae. The river in times gone must 
 have played strange havoc with the land about here, as 
 huge deposits of stone of all sizes, rising in the form of 
 miniature hills, are frequently seen. 
 
 At Toftemoen, an uninteresting station, we met an old 
 man who claims a royal descent from bold Harold Haar- 
 fagre, but the pride of ancestry did not make him insensible 
 to our kroners. He was civil enough, but not so communi- 
 cative as he might have been. Under the new order of 
 things, old Herr Tofte stands in the ranks of the people and 
 is one of them, although it is allowed him to muse over the 
 ancient platters and plates and feel proud of his ancestry. 
 They tell the story that when the king visited Norway a 
 few years ago, this dilapidated chieftain informed his maj- 
 esty that it was quite unnecessary to have the royal table 
 
136 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 service brought into the house, as he possessed everything 
 needed for feeding the king and his suite. The Norwegians 
 tell it, and it is safe to say the Swedes deny it. When I drove 
 into the old man's yard, this descendant of royal stock was 
 engaged in the rather unkingly occupation of horse-clip- 
 ping — an art in which he fairly excelled, judged by the neat 
 furrows up and down the animal's flanks. He paused in 
 his tonsorial labors and assisted us to change horses, and 
 upon somebody's invitation we went inside and quaffed ale 
 with true democratic simplicity. 
 
 For the next few stations the road winds in and out ot 
 deep gorges, narrowly skirting the foaming torrents, then 
 crawling up steep hills where faint hopes of distant views 
 are held out — but hopes are vain ; then comes the decline, 
 down which the ponies dash without a thought of conse- 
 quences, and rattling across the long sandy plain the cari- 
 oles reach Dombaas, the largest station between Christiania 
 and Throndhjem. In approaching Dombaas, which caps 
 the hill-top, the row of clean and silent buildings reminded 
 me of Canterbury Shaker Village, for the resemblance is 
 very striking, but the poorest family of Shakers are much 
 better off, I fancy, than the owner of this Norwegian sta- 
 tion. Lying at the junction of the Gudbrandsdal and the 
 famous Dovrefjeld routes, its position is important, and in 
 the old days, before the locomotive poked its nose this way, 
 it was a great stopping-place for the thousand and one 
 travellers who drove through on business or pleasure ; but 
 in this era of progress it has been pushed to one side. Few 
 pass that way now save the tourist, and the pretentious sign- 
 board creaks a pitiful requiem. The government maintains 
 a telegraph office and several operators, whose lives during 
 the long winter must be of an Arctic nature, but fortunately 
 they stand no chance of starving or being cast adrift on an 
 ice floe. 
 
BEDS AND LOOKING-GLASSES. 1 37 
 
 I remained at Dombaas over night, and an enjoyable rest 
 it was. The telegraph men were intelligent and talkative, 
 and the proprietor, although sorely afflicted with rheuma- 
 tism, managed to keep up his end of the conversation, and 
 related many a story of interest. He mentioned, among 
 other things, that he once kept twenty-five horses, and even 
 with that number people were often obliged to wait ; but 
 now eight are sufficient. 4t The railway has not made me 
 rich," he added. 
 
 While the Norwegians are sturdy of stature, their beds 
 are amusingly dwarfed and strangely made up. A novice 
 may expect at any moment to find himself in a lump, 
 painfully contorted and aching in every joint, with the bed- 
 clothes on the floor. It is a complete collapse. A gen- 
 eration of travellers had complained of this anomaly in 
 housekeeping, until the guide-books came to the rescue and 
 told how to make one's bed. Those to the manner born put 
 in a wedge under the pillow, but we are instructed to re- 
 move the same, and then tuck in the clothes tightly all 
 round, a process which, after a few trials, becomes effica- 
 cious in carrying the sleeper safely through the night. An- 
 other peculiarity consists in hanging the looking-glass so 
 high, — " skying" it, in fact, as if it were a doubtful paint- 
 ing, — and compelling the matutinal razor to perform blood- 
 curdling evolutions. Whenever I mentioned these indig- 
 enous things, the good people of the house manifested 
 great surprise but no pity, and left me to undertake any 
 reform I deemed proper. 
 
 The next morning we were out on the road at six o'clock, 
 endeavoring to accomplish as many miles as we could be- 
 fore the heat of the sun overtook us, for in the middle of a 
 July day a siesta is exceedingly agreeable, and a long rest 
 is imperative. We pulled up at Molmen, beautifully sit- 
 uated in quite a lake region, and the temptation of trout and 
 
138 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 freshly picked strawberries overcame our ambition for fast 
 driving. 
 
 At this place occurred an illustration of the free and easy 
 mode of travelling in Norway. We had intended to change 
 horses and push on, but instead of doing that, our stay 
 lasted until late in the afternoon. The cause of this was 
 our meeting with the parish priest, a youthful and robust 
 man, with trousers tucked in top-boots and a make-up quite 
 suggestive of a man roughing it. My English companion 
 fell into a grievous blunder by mistaking him for a com- 
 mercial drummer, and, plying him with questions about fish- 
 ing, informed him that we would like to spend the follow- 
 ing day — Sunday — at Molmen, and have some sport. The 
 next time my friend wanted such sacrilegious information 
 he adopted a safe course by asking a woman. I must 
 confess that the deception was highly successful, and few 
 persons indeed would ever have suspected that jaunty indi- 
 vidual of being the shepherd of a Christian flock. He 
 spoke French quite well and was eager to show it, and, 
 above all, his delight at seeing strangers seemed unbounded. 
 He gave us the history of the people, and the legends too, 
 and finally took us across the road to his little church. It 
 is the sanctuary for the large and thinly populated Laesos- 
 kongen district — the only one, I believe, in all that vast 
 territory. Built of wood, and economically painted, it pre- 
 sents no exterior attractions ; all is of the utmost simplicity, 
 while the interior is rudeness itself. There the logs are 
 visible, the seats excruciatingly Lutheran, and the altar 
 almost grotesque with its rough sculpture. He noted our 
 thoughts, and said, — w 'My people are very poor, and can- 
 not pay for grand churches, and besides, the distances are so 
 great that but few ever come." To me that simple and 
 lonely parish shrine taught a lesson that went deeper than 
 all the columns and mosaics of St. Peter's. The parson 
 
ROMSDAL VALLEY. 1 39 
 
 gave some geographical statistics to show his responsibility, 
 and said that his parish was thirty-five miles long and con- 
 tained scarcely two thousand inhabitants, so widely scat- 
 tered as to require two places of worship, between which 
 he divided his work. " If my hearers don't like me, they 
 all have a fortnight to get over it." This utterance proved 
 his philosophy and his courage amid difficulties. 
 
 Hard by the station is a lovely waterfall, which crawls 
 down the deep ravine, and as it nears the bottom suddenly 
 changes its mind and plunges and roars as if angry at being 
 seen, and at last glides under the highway and is lost to 
 sight. Across the fields rise lofty mountains, accessible to 
 venturesome legs, but the scenery from the summits is not 
 considered as grand as may be had elsewhere ; still these are 
 the outlying sentinels of that superb army of mountain peaks 
 that begin here and extend beyond Aak. 
 
 From Molmen on, the grandeur of the famous Romsdal 
 increases mile by mile. Picturesque ravines, foaming cas- 
 cades chafing at their rocky confines, and breath-taking roads 
 follow in startling succession. The farther we went the nar- 
 rower became the valley, until it was merely a thread over 
 which the sun shines but a moment the whole day, and a 
 penetrating chill has its home there all summer long. Grass 
 had disappeared from the mountain-sides, and in its stead 
 hung relentless banks of snow, almost lying in the cariole 
 tracks ; gleaming falls pour down the black crags and fill 
 the gorge with loud reverberations ; the mountains rise per- 
 pendicularly, and actually seem to waver as one pauses to 
 look at them — and then comes the sensation of being shut 
 out from the living, and imprisoned in a barren and forbid- 
 ding valley. The journey through is not short, for the black 
 valley extends for miles, until near the end it is so contract- 
 ed as almost to press against the cariole wheels. When the 
 escape from such a bold and terrific pass is made, the 
 
140 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 country expands once more, green fields appear, and with 
 them human habitations. 
 
 Just before we reached the wildest part of the Romsdal 
 is a dismal little station, prettily situated in the centre of 
 the smiling valley, and guarded by lofty, verdure-clothed 
 mountains, where we drew up to change ponies. There, 
 in the midst of such sublimity, an accident befell us. In 
 other lands it would have been merely an incident, but there 
 on that lonely highway it assumed the importance of an 
 international dispute. A personally conducted party of 
 tourists had taken possession of the station and all thereto 
 belonging. They demanded eleven horses, and the station- 
 keeper was distracted. He had to scour the district, take 
 the weary animals from the day's work and receive the 
 maledictions of his neighbors, and all for this unwarranted 
 horde of personally conducted Huns. The equine part was 
 not the worst : these people were human notwithstanding 
 their helpless condition in the travelling world, and they 
 ate and drank everything they could lay their hands on. 
 They ate everything save the pictures on the walls, leaving 
 us hungry mortals high and dry as upon the sands of a 
 desert. They did leave a sheet of flat bread which has the 
 color and consistency of leather, and to devour which re- 
 quires a severe and extended schooling. Dry and ungar- 
 nished flat bread in the land of salmon and cream is the 
 sum total of misery. We were compelled to remain there 
 many hours, and to solace our seething minds with the 
 adage that " Too many cooks spoil the broth." 
 
 Aak is the Oban of Norway. It is the meeting-place for 
 travellers going or returning from the cape, and at any time 
 during the season the hotel is sure to be comfortably filled 
 with tourists. I call it a hotel on the same principle that 
 in the land of the blind the one-eyed is king. The scenery 
 here is grand as can be found : the encircling mountains are 
 
BATHING. I4I 
 
 Norway's pride. Behind the house rises the shapely Roras- 
 dalhorn, and in front the avalanche-breeding Trolltinder, 
 and all around are peaks and crags innumerable and name- 
 less. One could pass the days most pleasurably at Aak, for 
 there is such a sublime feeling of rest and siesta about the 
 place as to make a lengthened stay excusable. I chanced 
 to pass Sunday there, and the number of English clergymen 
 was appalling. Services were held in the morning ; but in 
 the afternoon scarcely a man could be found, while, strangely 
 enough, the next day salmon and trout embellished our din- 
 ner table, thus proving that Aak is not under the espionage 
 of the conventional eye. 
 
 There is a most extraordinary bath-house at Aak, which 
 performs its functions with an alarming success. I tried it. 
 It is a small shed near the hotel, and is scantily furnished. 
 A large wooden tub or box and a few pegs constitute its 
 furniture. Directly over the tub is a V-shaped trough, and 
 attached to it is a cord. When all is ready, the printed 
 instructions on the wall hint at pulling the dangling cord — 
 and then comes the deluge ! There never was any bath like 
 that. The water comes all at once, and ice in winter was 
 never half so cold. The mountain torrent seems to have a 
 fatal mission to perform, for before the inexperienced bather 
 can regulate the supply, the floor of the house is several 
 inches under water. Woe to the mouth laden with false 
 teeth ; even sound ones get loose in the agony. Ever after, 
 when I wanted to bathe, I turned my back to the bath-house 
 and took to the clear and honest river. 
 
 To show the simplicity of Norwegian fare, Aak was the 
 only place, save Bergen, where soups and roasts were 
 served ; at the others we thought it luxurious to get even a 
 slice of steak or chicken. 
 
 Our very first fjord sail was marred by rain and low-lying 
 clouds. The entire distance from Veblungsnaes to Molde 
 
I42 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 was blotted from our vision, and we were compelled to keep 
 to the close and disagreeable cabin. At Molde we landed, 
 and strolled about the limited streets, some of which are 
 tidy and pretentious, and the houses clean and vine-clad ; 
 but the treacherous mist shut out the grand fjord and moun- 
 tain view for which Molde is noted, and we came away 
 disappointed. Happily, the late hours of the afternoon 
 brought better things ; the clouds were dispelled, and the 
 sun tendered his warmest welcome. In and out among the 
 islands, with a constant twisting of the rudder, quaint Aale- 
 sund comes into view like a picture. Sailing in the fjords 
 is like playing hide and seek : now you see Aalesund — 
 now you do n't. The houses of the town came in sight and 
 went out of sight many times before we grazed the jagged 
 walls of the harbor and came to anchor. 
 
 I look upon Aalesund as one of the typical towns in the 
 country, and beautiful in every line and feature. Pict- 
 uresquely set on the rocky mainland and on the rocky 
 islands, she wears a Venetian aspect, and her glaring white 
 dwellings become ancient palaces. The district jail and 
 court-house lend an air of metropolitan importance to the 
 place, but, after all, everything is so charmingly primitive 
 and fresh as to be fascinating. Never in Italian skies was 
 a sunset more gorgeous than the one I beheld at Aalesund. 
 On the promontory near the light-house the scene spread at 
 our feet was that of a perfect marine panorama : the islands 
 were covered with a veil of blue, the sea was calm and 
 tinged with a peculiar yellow which grew more deep as 
 the great burning sun dropped into the west, and the 
 heavens were literally crimson and red. I sat there for 
 hours and watched that splendid painting undergo its 
 changes ; the islands and the water lost their fairy colors 
 and looked sullen, but high above, as the sun sunk to bed, 
 was a sea of gold, on whose billows the argosies of angels 
 
GEIR ANGER FJORD. 1 43 
 
 sailed. Then came the exquisite twilight, that neutral 
 tint which answers for night up in those high latitudes — a 
 long, steady glare, that marks the pathway of the ambitious 
 morning, and lulls to rest the nestling hamlet and its good- 
 natured inhabitants. 
 
 Steamers take advantage of this nightless condition, mak- 
 ing their starts accordingly, and hard fares it with the man 
 that loves to sleep late. He must get up and be going if 
 he would see the fjords. Through the Stor fjord and its 
 branches we sailed all day, and late in the afternoon reached 
 Hellesylt, a dirty station with a most obliging landlord. 
 On this excursion we brought along provisions ; and well 
 we did, for the number of guests was out of all proportion 
 to the size of the cupboard, but by a general commissary 
 agreement we got on nicely. Biscuit, canned meats, sar- 
 dines, ubiquitous Bass, red wine with the regulation Bor- 
 deaux stamp, Crosse & Blackwell's appetizing condiments, 
 mushrooms, and fresh salmon were among the treasures of 
 our collective larders. In order to get the most out of Nor- 
 way, one must make acquaintances right and left. 
 
 A people ought to be proud who possess such a magnifi- 
 cent heritage as the Geiranger fjord. It is one of the most 
 startling outbursts of nature imaginable, an awe-striking 
 realm of the wonderful. Mountains rise out of the fjord 
 and extend thousands of feet into the air ; their huge sides 
 are walls of oozing rock, as unscalable as the walls of heaven, 
 and as full of grotesque profiles and playful images as a toy- 
 shop. The precipitous sides deceive the eye, and lend a 
 theatrical effect to the scene. In places one is sure that 
 some mysterious force is pushing these gigantic rocks higher 
 and higher into the air, for they appear to rise as one looks 
 at them, taking other shapes and figures as they seemingly go 
 up. Their sides are seamed and cracked, and deep gorges 
 everywhere are revealed, and over their craggy heads plunges 
 
144 A ALE SUN D TO TETUAN. 
 
 cascade after cascade, until the wonder is where so much 
 water comes from. The Geiranger is the birthplace of all 
 that is beautiful in cataract and waterfall. In every form 
 they come — in thundering whirl as from a mighty river ; in 
 tangled skein as delicate as lace ; in noisy, plashing streams, 
 leaping from pinnacle and crag in their descent ; in arched 
 waterspouts, spurning the brink in their eagerness to kiss 
 the fjord ; and in soft unseen vapor that shimmers through 
 the air and is scarcely felt. 
 
 Up this watery canon we sailed, close under the tower- 
 ing heights, in the midst of an awful desolation, to the 
 nestling hamlet of Merok. Nothing could be more lonely 
 and forlorn than this scattered settlement, hidden in the 
 wildest region of Norway. And yet there was the little 
 stone church, with its clumsy steeple covered with rusty 
 tin, which made a feeble attempt to smile in the morning 
 sun. All the town stood on the beach gazing; at us, for the 
 steamer's coming is an event with them, and when we dis- 
 appeared behind some jutting crag, they probably went 
 back contentedly to their work and thought of us no more. 
 What is there in life harder than an existence in such a 
 spot? Unremitting toil from youth to old age, an exile 
 self-imposed — and yet it is home, after all. In summer 
 there is a brief respite from the routine of their lives ; but 
 when the sun starts south, and the night begins early in 
 the afternoon, and deep banks of snow blockade the roads, 
 one would almost choose the lot of the mirthful Andalusian 
 mule-driver. 
 
 Once, for the last time, we saw the magnificence of the 
 Geiranger, and passed into the Stor fjord, whose scenery is 
 by no means uninteresting, even after the grander scenes of 
 the morning. We touched at several towns, at one of 
 which a spruce young Norwegian came on board, bringing 
 with him several pieces of baggage, among others a cum- 
 
AALESUND BOATMEN. 1 45 
 
 bersome sailors' chest. The captain told me he was a 
 physician, but his appearance certainly did not inspire an 
 over amount of professional confidence, and had it not been 
 for his wise-looking spectacles, it would have been a diffi- 
 cult matter to classify him in the ranks of the learned. He 
 improved vastly on acquaintance, and became a target for 
 curiosity. He informed us that he lived in one of the 
 neighboring townships, and that it was his duty to minister 
 to the wants of a district embracing some forty English 
 miles. He declared that he did not intend to spend all his 
 days in this way, but he needed money, and his fees, to- 
 gether with the government subsidy — for the state is very 
 considerate with its sparsely settled districts — enabled him 
 to get along very comfortably. His description of visiting 
 patients in winter was graphic enough for a picture, and 
 even his summer experiences did not want for adventure. 
 He was then returning from one of his long visits, which had 
 taken two days even in the favorable weather. But what 
 gave me the deepest insight into the life of these subsidized 
 gentlemen was this man's medicine chest. No carpenter ever 
 had a more capacious one for his tools than had this Good 
 Samaritan for his potent drugs. He was a veritable travelling 
 apothecary shop, ready at a moment's warning to prescribe 
 for the complete category of ailments. I fancied I detected 
 a gleam in his blue eyes when somebody hinted at the 
 boiler's bursting ; but it quickly passed away, and the con- 
 versation turned on subjects other than professional. 
 
 Again we slept in pretty Aalesund, where the skies of 
 midnight are so soft and enchanting as to banish sleep. 
 The North Cape steamer on its way south was due some- 
 time within the twenty-four hours, but precisely when no- 
 body could tell, and to make certain we employed several 
 rival boatmen to keep on the watch and notify us of its 
 coming. Then reluctantly we turned in and stole a few 
 
146 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 hours of forgetfulness. The eager watermen felt the im- 
 portance of their vigil, and no sooner had the vessel appeared 
 on the rose-colored horizon than they made a rush for the 
 hotel. Very likely it was a race to see who would get 
 there first, but once there, they joined forces and commenced 
 the most furious attack on the doors and windows. They 
 pounded and shouted and kicked, and made such an infernal 
 din that the sheriff' ought to have read the riot act. But 
 patience did its perfect work, and they captured us and 
 took us to the waiting steamer. 
 
 It was then after twelve o'clock at night, but sitting under 
 the awning I had no difficulty in reading newspapers in 
 the bright light which from that moment grew stronger. 
 I never could shake off' the mysterious fascination that this 
 light exercised over me. It never seemed to belong to this 
 sphere, but rather to realms of fable ; and after I turned my 
 eyes to the south and saw it gradually lose its rare mellow 
 tints, becoming more dull each day till finally it faded en- 
 tirely and became the common night, there yet remained the 
 perfect picture in my memory. 
 
 It is a long sail from Aalesund to Bergen, but a sur- 
 prisingly lovely one. A more diversified water journey 
 could not be devised — in and out of fjords great and small, 
 penetrating their uttermost bays and recesses, darting under 
 huge precipices, gliding slowly through thick archipelagos, 
 then emerging into the open sea. A grand and impres- 
 sive day it was, the like of which I scarcely hope to see 
 again. How the boat ever got through such a perilous and 
 intricate path is a wonder, for we actually grated along the 
 ledges, and yet there seemed no cause for fear. It was 
 surely a most exciting and original voyage, and one never 
 to be forgotten. Late at night the twinkling lights in the 
 amphitheatre of Bergen town brought to an end one of the 
 red letter days of my European wanderings. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ACROSS NORWAY FROM BERGEN TO STOCKHOLM. 
 
 BERGEN is dignified and interesting — as much so, I 
 think, as any town in Norway ; for it contains many 
 traces of antiquity and former importance, besides being 
 exceedingly picturesque in its situation. The town extends 
 in a semi-circular course around the river and fjord, and is 
 flanked with mountains. There is a new and an old part, 
 with buildings to correspond, and typical studies are met 
 with at every step. Bergen belonged to the Hanseatic league, 
 and was one of its four great factories, and even now, 
 although so many centuries have gone, the style of archi- 
 tecture so peculiar to the league has not wholly disappeared. 
 But, like Christiania, the houses are generally built of wood 
 and painted white, and, to add to the effect, many roofs are 
 covered with tiles whose flaming red color forms quite a 
 pleasing contrast. Between fire and fish the town has suf- 
 fered and prospered — both have played an important part 
 in its history — but just now the fish have their way, and 
 Bergen fairly pants with enterprise. An aqueduct sup- 
 plies the town with an abundance of water, and the danger 
 from those devastating conflagrations is largely reduced ; 
 but the fish still come to Bergen market by shiploads, and 
 the people are happy. The morning fish-market presents 
 an animated scene. The women, in their queer dresses and 
 head-gear, do the hardest work, and let the men enjoy their 
 pipes and small-talk. The Bergen fish- wives are more 
 comely and less masculine than their sisters in England and 
 France. Among them I saw some very pretty girls, neatly 
 
148 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 dressed, and with better manners than their class usually 
 possess. 
 
 In this part of Bergen are those massive warehouses and 
 caravansaries once the property of the league. As marriage 
 was forbidden to the employes, these latter buildings bear con- 
 siderable resemblance to monasteries in their internal arrange- 
 ments. But to me the charm of Bergen was its cleanliness and 
 evident prosperity. The new town contains large and hand- 
 some structures, and the streets are wide and straight. The 
 churches are not at all impressive, and after visiting one the 
 mind may rest contented ; but the museum, with its ethno- 
 logical collection, amply repays one for the time spent 
 there. When I was in Bergen the people were making 
 preparations to receive King Oscar, and an unwonted ner- 
 vousness had taken hold of everybody. The principal streets 
 were resplendent with triumphal arches, windows and door- 
 ways were being converted into flaming testimonials of loy- 
 alty, in fact all the private houses were receiving the delicate 
 attentions of decorators. Evidently the coming of the king 
 was a great event, and nothing was to be left undone. 
 
 Not to be able to stay over a week and assist in the hilar- 
 ities was disappointing ; but in order to catch a semi-weekly 
 steamer, I was obliged to say good-day to sweet Bergen 
 nestling among the hills, and take my departure. 
 
 Had it not been for the crowded condition of the steamer, 
 the day in the Hardanger fjord would have been most 
 enjoyable ; but a Norwegian party of excursionists made 
 things uncomfortable, for, no matter how sublime the scen- 
 ery is, it cannot be appreciated when one's toes are being 
 constantly trodden on. The size of the party was out of all 
 proportion to the size of the steamer. The Hardanger fjord 
 is one of the largest and most beautiful, although its shores 
 and mountains are not the wildest and most ragged. Still 
 one cannot fail to be captivated by the wonderful diversity 
 
FJORD SAILING. 1 49 
 
 on all sides. It is more like the Scotch lakes in the gentle- 
 ness of its scenery, and better than those lakes in its freedom 
 from mists and rain. Its form may be compared to a 
 gigantic spider with long and crooked legs extending in all 
 directions ; for nowhere in Norway are fjord connections 
 and ramifications more numerous than here. Hundreds of 
 inlets of water-ways branch from this mammoth inland 
 sea : the Kvindherren, the His, the beautiful Sor, and many 
 nameless fjords, form the system, and command among 
 them almost half the grandeur of the country. We sailed 
 that day the entire distance of the Hardanger, touching at 
 various places, darting into the inlets and back again, and 
 landing late in the evening at Eide, where the waters end. 
 
 One of the pleasing characteristics of a fjord is the uncer- 
 tainty where you are going next. On lakes the general 
 uniformity of the body makes the course tolerably certain, but 
 the fjord calls for the exercise of guessing better than any- 
 thing in the w r ay of travelling. Nature played all sorts of 
 jokes when she created these northern bays and inlets, and 
 the inexperienced traveller speedily becomes an agnostic 
 as regards his material future. At times further progress 
 seems surely barred, and instant destruction impends, but 
 the next instant a wide vista of open water appears, gener- 
 ous enough to float the American navy. A constant series 
 of surprises keeps one alert on the celebrated Hardanger, 
 and the same is true of all the fjords. In places the width 
 may be four or five miles, but this is subject to sudden con- 
 traction at any moment, and scarcely more than boat-room 
 is afforded, then the water-path can be marked out for many 
 miles, and finally comes a succession of devious sailing 
 through the dark meshes where the course is recognized 
 only by the large rocks which the government has painted 
 a dazzling white. 
 
 And so one goes through this grand scenery, where each 
 
150 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 minute is impatient to show some soft or startling sight — a 
 waterfall, a dizzy precipice like those in the Geiranger, 
 green valleys sweeping away from the rocky shores and 
 carrying their verdure to the mountain-tops, or some sullen 
 mass of black crags around whose pinnacles the eagles soar 
 and cascades have their rise. In the distance, too, gleaming 
 in the warm sun, stood the majestic and hoary-headed 
 Folgefond, the mountain of snow and ice, with vast level 
 expanses of glaciers casting their green colors before one's 
 eyes, and forming a rather strange contrast to the luxuriant 
 neighborhood. Several times during the sail this glacial 
 panorama was presented, and always with intense effect. 
 
 Eide is quite a popular summer resort for Scandinavians, 
 especially Danes, who find in its exquisite surroundings all 
 those touches of nature which hold men captive. Indeed, 
 I thought Eide pretty and restful, and just the spot for a 
 month's stay. At the hotel I met a Swede who told me so 
 much about the Norwegian Niagara — he had visited Amer- 
 ica and seen our wonder — that we made up a party and 
 started for the Voringsfos. The journey is partly by water 
 and partly by land, but such grand revelations of scenery as 
 that excursion brought out will never be forgotten. In 
 places the road dwindled into a rocky path, zigzag and 
 steep, where horses and carioles had to be abandoned and 
 our own feet substituted ; but the experience was refresh- 
 ing and the novelty exhilarating, so nobody found fault. 
 Vik is a quaint town with an ancient church and a fair 
 hotel, and is situated in the midst of splashing cascades, 
 whose music must long ago have become monotonous to 
 the hardy Northmen. An aged boatman rowed us some 
 three or four miles along the picturesque highland lake, and 
 he took his time so that the charms of his birthplace might 
 not be lost, and I was grateful to him. We parted with 
 him after an exchange of kroners and thanks, and began the 
 
VORINGSFOS. 151 
 
 last stage of the tramp. Here the scenery was wilder, and, 
 if possible, grander, than any I had looked at — great moun- 
 tains, some snow-crowned, others cultivated and inhabited 
 by rugged farmers, at whose houses we often stopped for 
 milk and berries. Down into the very bowels of the earth 
 we picked our way, into the tangled and desolate valley of 
 the Maabodal where rushes an angry river fresh from the 
 glaciers, then up the steep sides better adapted to goats than 
 to men, until we came to one of the mountain farm-houses 
 or saeters, and were glad to receive its limited hospitality. 
 In Norway there is a society whose object is to explore 
 the country, find out the most beautiful spots to construct 
 paths, and to furnish any information. Often have I blessed 
 the labors of that association of gentlemen, who are doing 
 so much to make their noble country attractive. Here in 
 this out-of-the-way place they have made a path to the 
 falls, so that one may get the best view of them without 
 the slightest personal danger or inconvenience. Long be- 
 fore we saw the magnificent torrents, their dull roar was 
 plainly heard, and high in the air rose clouds of mist. I 
 must confess that the Voringsfos, although much smaller 
 than Niagara, is one of the world's famous waterfalls, and 
 impresses one with the tremendous mystery of the Unseen. 
 Into the deep, box-shaped canon falls with thundering 
 tumult what appear to be solid blocks of water. It is like 
 some mighty river, dashing over the perpendicular ledge to 
 destruction. Never for an instant is there the slightest 
 pause in the mad Voringsfos ; no variation and no timidity, 
 but one continual avalanche of unbroken water pounding 
 out a hole in the rock-bound earth. In many waterfalls 
 little streams leave the boiling torrent just before the fatal 
 plunge, and are permitted to find their way down as gentle 
 cascades ; but here no such liberty is tolerated. Every drop 
 is held in the giant current, and flung with a giant's hand 
 
152 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 into the seething abyss. There on the shelving rocks we 
 four stood, unable to make ourselves heard, and contem- 
 plated the awful maelstrom, not, as at the Swiss and Amer- 
 ican falls, in sight of hotels and hackmen, but alone in a 
 solitary and frightful crater, whose gloomy walls seemed to 
 shake with the reverberation of the falling waters. 
 
 Vossevangen is a typical Norwegian town or large vil- 
 lage, boasting of two or three inhabited streets to give it a 
 pompous air, while the houses and stores are sufficient to 
 give it a slight metropolitan aspect. There I found quite a 
 pretentious hotel kept by an English-speaking landlord, who 
 attended to the wants of his guests with commendable 
 promptness. His hostelry was full of English and Germans, 
 many of whom were to start early the following morning. It 
 was all-important to anticipate their departure, for to follow 
 them through a country of slow stations would be an indefi- 
 nite postponement of my journey. I conveyed the informa- 
 tion to my companion, and we got a good start of them. 
 
 The inhabitants of this district are noted for the quaint- 
 ness of their dress, and as I rode along that Sunday I saw 
 scores of them in most picturesque apparel ; — men and 
 women in their rude carts going to the Vossevangen 
 church, decked out in their gay and theatrical array, follow- 
 ing to a ribbon and button the custom set by their fore- 
 fathers — broad collars, flowing sleeves like those of a 
 Lutheran minister ; strings of glittering beads around their 
 necks, harpoonish looking hair-pins criss-crossed, or long 
 plaits tied with bright ribbons. The men wore stovepipe 
 hats regardless of the heat, red waistcoats abundantly be- 
 spangled with buttons, and short breeches and low shoes. 
 These people, I suspect, were the well-to-do farmers, for 
 as we progressed this costuming faded utterly, leaving in- 
 stead the regulation jacket and trousers with not so much 
 as a red cravat to relieve the monotony. 
 
NAERODAL VALLEY. 1 53 
 
 On we sped just fast enough to keep out of sight of the 
 international caravan we had left behind, past station after 
 station, all of them poor, dirty, and uninviting even to the 
 extent of a mug of ale, ascending gradually and slowly 
 until the height of land was gained and the grand valley 
 of Naerodal lay before us. 
 
 Unquestionably this is one of Norway's splendid views, 
 in one sense the grandest. Cortez on the peak in Darien was 
 not more silent than are modern travellers who stand on 
 this brink and look off. Profound is that great gorge with 
 its perpendicular walls rising 3.000 feet, warding off the 
 sun and casting gloom throughout the valley. Leaning 
 over the parapets of the magnificent highway, the turf- roofed 
 cabins below are mere child's toys, and the river looks 
 like some huge serpent. Desolate indeed is the scene be- 
 low, and yet it must be traversed. The cliff forming the 
 end of the Naerodal is very steep and very high, but the 
 government has constructed on its unyielding side a road 
 which rivals the famed Cornice. By zigzag stages the 
 descent is made, first to one side, then to another, thus 
 affording an ever-changing view of the imprisoned valley ; 
 down we go, out of the sunshine into the chill, only to be 
 more impressed with the awful surroundings. With every 
 step the grandeur fades, but an appalling sensation takes its 
 place, for when one reaches the bottom and looks back at 
 the winding road, or overhead at the stern, unbending 
 walls, one begins to realize how small man is. The Naero- 
 dal is several miles long, but not as narrow as the Romsdal. 
 The experience, however, is about the same as one rides 
 beneath the projecting ledges, or wheels among the remains 
 of avalanches which fell only a month or two before. This 
 seems to be a favorite place for these devastating occur- 
 rences ; and as they give no notice of their coming, one 
 may well feel a little shaky in venturing under those in a 
 
154 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ripe condition. The exceeding wildness of this valley of 
 the shadow of avalanches can never be tamed. It was des- 
 tined to arouse those feelings of awe and reflection that so 
 often sleep, and its lesson is rarely lost. On to the extrem- 
 est limit the jealous cliffs towered high, like some Titan- 
 built fortress watching for victims ; but the end came as 
 suddenly as the beginning, and we dashed into the scant 
 settlement called Gudvangen, where they say the sun rarely 
 shines. There the glorious Naerodal gives way to a beau- 
 tiful fjord bearing the same name, over which we sailed in 
 the twilight, and went to bed at Laerdalsoren 
 
 There was not much to interest me in this poor village 
 save my mail, which had been waiting some time, and 
 when that novelty wore out I gladly commenced the last 
 stage of my Norwegian jauntings, for before me lay the 
 grand scenery of Valders and the Fillefjeld. The road 
 runs for miles along an unambitious river, through mead- 
 ows and past well cultivated farms, a rather wearisome 
 monotony, but still a good preparation for the scenes to 
 come. I noticed that the peasants dressed in a character- 
 istic costume, the women wearing red dresses with white 
 sleeves and pretty white caps, while the men had knee- 
 breeches, and the peculiar Norwegian head-bag with gen- 
 erous folds hanging down their backs. This added a cer- 
 tain animation to the day's journey which was very pleas- 
 ing. Although the district was comparatively level, high 
 and shapeless mountains hemmed it in ; but go anywhere 
 in Norway and the same rugged appearance will be found. 
 
 One might as well think of walking about Naples without 
 meeting a beggar, as to travel anywhere in Norway without 
 expecting to see mountains. The river Laera must have 
 provoked the government in one way and another almost as 
 much as Sweden, for by its impetuous and imperious dispo- 
 sition it has plunged in every direction, carrying away roads 
 
MO UNTAIN HIGHWA YS. 1 5 5 
 
 and bridges with evident satisfaction, until, I believe, there 
 have been four or five different routes made in order to head 
 oft' the stream. The last road winds through the valley close 
 by the river banks, but I preferred the more ancient turn- 
 pike that led over the cliffs. When that is closed then trav- 
 ellers will lose a grand panorama of valley, ravine, and 
 mountain peak, and their only compensation will be the 
 saving of a few hours' riding. A glorious sensation it is to 
 roll along the broad backs of the mountains a little nearer 
 the stars than other mortals, to see summits below and 
 none above, and to feel the fresh, strong air that sweeps 
 across the plateau, as if bent on violence. Even there 
 on the wind-tortured heights families live all summer, and 
 seem to enjoy it. They come early with their herds, and 
 stay as long as prudence will admit, which is generally 
 about the first of September : then the rude saeter is 
 closed, and this bleak highway is left to the long winter. 
 In places the only barrier between the traveller and precip- 
 itous abysses is a low wall of stone, and when the wind 
 blows too fresh this seems of little moment ; a big gust, and 
 all would be over. Whoever is charmed with cloud views 
 which give to the lower peaks the counterfeits of islands 
 in the sea, should seek this lofty thoroughfare where such 
 scenes are playing all the time. 
 
 This journey is a succession of lofty mountains and vast 
 valleys, sometimes monotonous ; still one gets a fair idea 
 of the different aspects of Norwegian land scenery, for the 
 direction is away from the fjords. If a week be spent in 
 getting to Christiania, there will be much to remember. 
 
 One of the sights of this route is the famous church of 
 Borgund, which is certainly fantastic enough to have been 
 the shrine of Santa Claus. It seems to contradict the Nor- 
 wegian himself, for no khanate of China could show a 
 structure more unique. The thought of the prosaic Norse- 
 
156 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 man — the sailor and the warrior — building a church like 
 that is a little too much. Wood was the material used, and 
 incongruity was the design. The exterior, which is shin- 
 gled and has the appearance of having been recently var- 
 nished, is cut into passages, gables, porches, and low 
 galleries — what for nobody knows, inasmuch as their utility 
 is questionable. The body is high and narrow, and dormer 
 windows, adorned with crosses, flare out most generously, 
 while from the edges of the dull-colored roofs carved 
 dragons project their ugly heads and lap their jaws for food. 
 The interior is stranger still. The rough pillars and few 
 benches, the shapeless altar with the queer carving sur- 
 rounding it, and the small apertures in lieu of windows, 
 make up one of the most remarkable chapters in the history 
 of Christian architecture. This ancient church is no longer 
 used ; its limited capacity precludes the assembling of con- 
 gegations ; so a new consort stands close by, and disdainfully 
 looks down on its venerable and contorted neighbor. 
 
 The highest point of the Fillefjeld is at Nystuen, 3,200 
 feet above the sea ; and, singularly enough, one finds there 
 the largest and most comfortable station on the route. Its 
 generous form stands out prominently, and may be seen 
 from afar — a long building of two stories, with numerous 
 windows, and having about it those hospice features that 
 gladden one among the Alps. At first I thought it was a 
 monastery, and even after a night's rest the cleanliness and 
 quiet of the place seemed to verify my mistaken impression. 
 The proprietor is well-to-do, and puts luxuries on his 
 table : wines and preserves, and the delicacies of the field 
 and stream, may always be found there in abundance. His 
 cook had a much better understanding with the coffee than 
 was commonly had, and the butter spurned the charge of 
 inconsistency, and really became butter. I met there a 
 number of travellers, principally Norwegians, and a most 
 
PONY CAPRICES. 157 
 
 enjoyable evening was passed. This is partly a government 
 station, especially during the winter, when the scenes of 
 Great Bernard are likely to be enacted, but in the warm 
 months deeds of heroism are uncalled for. 
 
 From Nystuen to Skogstad the road is a continual decline, 
 in places exceedingly steep and uncomfortable, and the 
 easiest way is to walk. The little ponies are both ambitious 
 and vicious : the former trait is exhibited while going down 
 hill, the latter while going up. They are very cunning, 
 and show not only an instinct but a reasoning power be- 
 yond expectation. For instance, on coming to a steep and 
 somewhat dangerous hill, the little rascals begin to shy or 
 back or perform some trick not wholly reassuring, and they 
 keep it up at frequent intervals. I recollect once on coming 
 to a hill my pony showed most extraordinary signs of insub- 
 ordination, and as the gorges on either side made this 
 moment a pretty serious one, I got off and led my beast. 
 He was then as docile as a lamb, but on looking back on 
 the rest of the party, I saw, to my surprise and delight, 
 that all the ponies were similarly affected. They insisted 
 upon hauling empty carioles up the hill, and their rights 
 were respected. So it was going down this steep decline ; — 
 they wanted to run, and to run would be to break shafts 
 and harness and create general havoc ; so we alighted and 
 led the way, and our tyrants meekly followed. 
 
 From this point the scenery is very striking, and a 
 pleasing variety of landscape is continually going and com- 
 ing, — mountains and waterfalls, luxuriant vegetation, pros- 
 perous farms, and little villages make up the panorama. 
 The scenery is less startling, but more uniformly beautiful 
 and attractive, especially near lake Vangsmjosen, where 
 the road leads through long galleries hewn in the rock, at 
 the end of which the view is wonderfully charming. But 
 the splendid lake, while not unappreciated, is sadly neg- 
 
158 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 lected by man : the sparseness of population, and its inac- 
 cessibility from the current of travel, doom it to an everlast- 
 ing solitude, and yet no lake in Europe is fairer or sweeter. 
 
 While talking with one of the men at the station of Sorum, 
 I heard a loud and prolonged hiss in the air, which caused 
 me to start and look about me, but it was nothing to cause 
 alarm. I had often noticed long wires stretched from the road 
 to the mountain-side, but never understood their meaning. 
 On this occasion I learned that the wire served as a means 
 of communication between the mountain saeters and the 
 farms. Instead of carrying wood and hay down the steep 
 sides, it was tied on the wire and set agoing, and invariably 
 reached its destination without accident. The noise I heard 
 was the rapid transit of a bundle of fagots. 
 
 At Sorum we found the steamer that took us to Heen, 
 where the Christiania Railroad has a terminus, and we said 
 good-bye to our ponies and post-boys. I gave my gloves, 
 whip, and brigandish hat, that had served me so well, to the 
 old lady at the station, my cariole was put on board, and 
 down to Heen we flew, through the Spirillen, then swollen 
 by rain, and before nightfall Christiania was at hand. 
 
 After all, there was a comfort in sitting down in the good 
 Victoria hotel, and letting memory go back over the month's 
 experiences. The sights and happy hours, and the tribu- 
 lations too, all got compounded into one long reverie of 
 pleasure that seemed like the pages of a story-book. 
 
 It is a night's sail from Christiania to Gothenburg, but 
 the boat is constructed on a half American plan, and is 
 comfortable and clean, and when the sea is decently polite 
 the journey is a pleasant one. Gothenburg is one of the 
 solid cities of Sweden, exceedingly English in appearance, 
 and next to Stockholm the largest in the kingdom. Its 
 massive stone docks were lined with countless masts and 
 funnels, and the people I met were impelled by a commer- 
 
GO THENB URG. 1 5 9 
 
 cial ambition quite commendable. Standing on the broad 
 quays were veritable Hansom cabs, whose drivers, secure 
 in their perches, importuned the new arrivals with true 
 Cockney pantomime. This exotic was very fragrant after 
 so much cariole travelling, and I forthwith plucked one 
 from the blooming mass and was driven to my hotel, the 
 Gota Kallare. 
 
 The Gothenburgers owe a great deal to the enterprise of 
 the English and the Dutch, the influence of these people 
 being shown in the arrangement of streets and canals, the 
 construction of the docks, and to a considerable extent in 
 the architecture of the houses. My introduction was on 
 Sunday, and a Scotch mist of repression enveloped the 
 town, and did not dissolve till late in the afternoon. But 
 when the clouds lifted there was a big struggle to make up 
 for lost time, and what I thought was a staid and musty old 
 Covenanter camp suddenly burst into the effulgence of a 
 minor Paris. I then saw the difference between the Swedes 
 and the Norwegians. Their religion is the same, but their 
 Sundays are not. The beer-gardens were enlivened with 
 opera airs, and the whirlgig horses went round in their end- 
 less flight : everybody laughed and was merry, for the day of 
 rest had given way to festivities and careless pastimes. The 
 city is full of parks, shady streets, and substantial residences, 
 and in one part I noticed long rows of small brick houses, 
 evidently intended for artisans and workingmen, and con- 
 structed on that unmistakable English plan so common 
 about Lancashire. Let the signs be removed from the 
 shops, and an Englishman plumping himself and his um- 
 brella into a Hansom and riding through some streets of 
 Gothenburg would think he was at home. 
 
 As I could spare the necessary time, I went up the Gota 
 canal by steamer ; but much of the journey was monotonous 
 and tiresome, and for the most part uninteresting, until the 
 
l6o AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 very last. This great canal connects the Baltic with La e 
 Venern and the east coast of Sweden, and justly ranks as 
 one of the engineering triumphs of the age. From the sea 
 level to the height of land is one hundred and fifty feet, 
 and yet vessels of large size have no trouble in getting up 
 and down the hillside. In this undertaking the rules of 
 nature are — to use a parliamentary expression — laid on the 
 table. You cannot go down any faster than you go up. It 
 is a curious sight to see steamships halfway up a hill, as 
 helpless as turtles turned on their backs. To stand on the 
 deck and serenely contemplate the watery steps before you, 
 or shudderingly look at the slippery staircase behind, is 
 very novel, and well worth a trial. All this happens at 
 Akersvass, where there are eleven locks now in use, and 
 several others half ruined — the remnants of philosopher 
 Swedenborg's plans. One may stay on the boat, or walk 
 up the hill and see the famous waterfalls of Trollhatta. The 
 falls have a descent of about one hundred feet, but not a 
 sheer one : they are rather more like magnificent rapids, 
 with islands set in their midst. They shoot from shelf to 
 ledge, plunging and rolling, and dashing showers of spray 
 over the rocks, seething with thick foam as they disappear 
 in the caverns, or burst from their confines and lose them- 
 selves in the dark abyss below. The volume of water is 
 immense, and if it only could be gathered into one grand 
 cataract, the spectacle would indeed be imposing. The 
 fickle but impetuous waters have left boulders high beyond 
 their influence, and walks have been constructed to- them 
 from the shore. There in the deserted bowls and recesses 
 monarchs have cut their names. They show the rude let- 
 ters of Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XII, Bernadotte and 
 his descendants, and also the neatly cut Napoleon IV, 
 who, within a year after, yielded up his young life to the 
 savages. 
 
STOCKHOLM. l6l 
 
 The distance from Gothenburg to Stockholm is 250 miles 
 or more. The cars are constructed on a generous plan, 
 by which the compartments are transformed into bed-rooms, 
 each containing four passengers ; but by virtue of a small 
 fee I secured abundant space during the night journey. 
 
 Stockholm is incomparably the fairest gem in the Scandi- 
 navian crown, and in the circle of European capitals few 
 are as beautiful. Enthusiasts love to call it the Venice of 
 the North, but the narrow canals, the funereal gondolas, 
 and the crumbling palaces of the Adriatic queen are want- 
 ing here ; and yet the red sunset view across the water, 
 taking in picturesque Mosebacke and its venerable church, 
 is worthy the Grand Canal. But Stockholm needs no 
 borrowed charms : hers are natural, and I do not wonder 
 that her citizens are proud of them. I made quite a pro- 
 longed stay, — five weeks, — and my confession is, that the 
 Swedish capital is one of the most alluring and fascinating 
 spots on earth. 
 
 The town is pleasantly situated on a series of large isl- 
 ands at the junction of Lake Malar and the Saltjo, an arm 
 of the Baltic. The environs are picturesque, with heavy 
 forests and lofty hills cropped with granite, communica- 
 tion between them and the city being made by a confusion 
 of water-ways over which nimble steamers ply from dawn 
 until midnight. There is no limit to the excursions around 
 Stockholm. One could remain indefinitely, and yet some 
 new place would furnish novelty in the way of a drive, a 
 walk, or, more likely, a steamer ride on the lake. Easy of 
 access are Ulriksdal, Drottningholm, Carlberg, Gripsholm, 
 Vaxholm on the Baltic, serene and intellectual Upsala 
 (Sweden's Oxford), and many other charming resorts. Trav- 
 elling is cheap, communication frequent, and the enjoyment 
 unbounded. 
 
 The Stockholmers make the most of their beautiful sum- 
 
l62 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 mer, and live out-doors as much as possible ; and for that 
 reason the city is plentifully gemmed with parks and music 
 gardens, where crowds assemble nightly to enjoy life in all 
 its fulness. 
 
 The Royal Palace with its imposing facades occupies a 
 sightly position on one of the islands, and is really very 
 handsome. It is massive enough to please an emperor, 
 and its Italian Renaissance style gives it a beauty which 
 any monarch might envy. Everything is free and easy in 
 Stockholm, and the palace is no exception ; for its rectan- 
 gular shape gives a spacious court-yard, through which 
 people pass at all hours, using it as a public thoroughfare 
 from one part of the city to another. Nothing could be 
 more democratic than the precincts of King Oscar's great 
 palace. I was very much surprised at the absence of rules 
 and regulations ; but it was rather refreshing after all, and I 
 accepted the official laxity without a murmur. A sentinel 
 paced up and down before the guard-house, but he acted 
 drowsy and indifferent, and when I crossed his beat he took 
 no notice of it, but kept on his way. I pulled a dangling 
 cord, and a venerable servitor presented himself. He was 
 one of the custodians of the royal dwelling, and conducted 
 me through its apartments. The suite occupied by the 
 crown prince was plainly furnished, the absence of orna- 
 ment almost going to the extent of cheerlessness. The fur- 
 niture was homely and well worn, the floors were carpet- 
 less — to be sure, it was in summer — the draperies faded, 
 and the book-cases small and scantily stocked with litera- 
 ture. The prince, whom everybody regards about as I 
 regarded his library, was then doing the grand journey, 
 and enlarging his mind and grasping new ideas. Gustavus, 
 so they say, does not come up to the high intellectual stand- 
 ard set for rulers ; and afterward, when I saw him, I thought 
 public opinion correct. He is tall, awkward, and homely ; 
 
THE ROYAL FAMILY. 1 63 
 
 his legs are like sticks, and his gait far from graceful. His 
 prominent feature is his mouth, which is large and badly 
 shaped, and always open, even in repose. He inherits 
 very little of his father's ability, or his mother's pleasing 
 ways ; but I believe he is clever and docile, and compara- 
 tively harmless. Among the books were the productions 
 of Jules Verne and the "History of Delaware" — rather 
 queer companions, I confess ; but the incident interested me. 
 
 The queen's apartments were more luxurious, and showed 
 evidence of good taste. Her library was well supplied with 
 every class of reading and study, but no attention had been 
 bestowed on the bindings, and a shabby set of paper cov- 
 ered Tauchnitz held a prominent place. 
 
 The king is a man of many accomplishments, being a fine 
 linguist, a musician, and a writer of no mean order; but in 
 spite of all this he does not fill the vacancy left by his viva- 
 cious brother, Charles XV. He was a gay monarch, but 
 his people loved him, and overlooked his shortcomings, and 
 at his death the nation was grief-stricken. He was fond of 
 joking and of doing original things just for effect, and al- 
 though he has been dead some time his reputation goes on 
 undiminished. They tell all manner of stories about his 
 escapades and performances, and relate with especial glee 
 how the Prince of Wales once tried to drink him under the 
 table. It seems that Charles had practised a good deal at 
 that sort of pleasure, and Albert Edward had to give in. 
 
 The palace is interesting because it is in Sweden, although 
 it vies in sumptuousness with some of the most celebrated, 
 the grand gallery and the beautiful banquet-hall being nota- 
 bly so. This large saloon goes by the name of the White 
 Sea, and the appellation is appropriate, for the walls are 
 dazzlingly white, and the floor is as brilliant as a mirror. 
 The frescos were done by Italians, and are of varying ex- 
 cellence, while much of the sculpture came from Swedish 
 
164 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 chisels. Like all royal houses, this is plentifully adorned 
 with gifts from friendly monarchs, and vases, busts, and 
 paintings attest the good-will shown gentle Sweden. 
 
 During my stay in Stockholm, the present czar, then the 
 heir apparent, visited King Oscar, and the palace was illu- 
 minated from basement to roof, besides being gorgeously 
 decorated with bunting and flags. To us at the Grand 
 Hotel the spectacle was gay and highly picturesque as the 
 royal barge came moving majestically up the river from 
 the Russian squadron, the long oars touching the water 
 with the precision of machinery, while reclining under the 
 purple awning was Alexander III, surrounded by his re- 
 splendent staff'. It was actually a touch of the Nile two 
 thousand years ago. The magnificent barge landed at the 
 palace steps, the bands voiced their welcome, and the long 
 line of troops presented arms, as the prince walked up the 
 flowery terrace to meet the king. It was a gala day for 
 Stockholm, and the exuberant hilarity was kept up during 
 the entire period of Alexander's stay. The city showed at 
 its best, and London, with all her wealth and patriotism, 
 could not have been prettier or merrier. 
 
 The Riddarsholm church, the Westminster Abbey of 
 Sweden, contains within its harsh outlines the sacred ashes 
 of kings and queens and warriors. Great Gustavus lies 
 there in a magnificent sarcophagus, and above him droop 
 the flags of vanquished hosts. Hot-headed Charles, the 
 like of whom the world never saw, is given a small chapel 
 beyond, and is covered with a characteristic lion-skin. 
 Gustavus III and the Bernadotte line are interred in this 
 church, and in the crypt are queens and princes. Intrinsi- 
 cally the church merits only slight notice, but its historic 
 dead give it an imperishable fame. 
 
 I found steady pleasure in the great ethnological museum, 
 which, although young in its career, contains complete pict- 
 
THE MUSEUM. 1 65 
 
 ures of Scandinavian life from the earliest times. Every- 
 thing that contributed to ancient customs may be found. 
 The rudest implements of the household and the farm, armor, 
 weapons, and utensils of all descriptions, are exhibited in the 
 order of their age, and beside them were wax figures 
 of the people that used those strange things. This col- 
 lection was more instructive than the hundred fold more 
 costly objects of the national museum, for in it one reads 
 the history of these northern lands, and sees each era exem- 
 plified by itself. 
 
 But the stately museum with its exquisitely arched win- 
 dows is a source of endless pride to the Swedes ; and well 
 it may be, for within its imposing form are paintings, 
 sculptures, and antiquities of great value and interest. 
 The Runic inscriptions are numerous, but to the ordinary 
 traveller these ^etymological remains are serious puzzles 
 and not sights. In this museum is a room lower than the 
 others, made to represent a crypt, in which is deposited an 
 imposing collection of ancient tombs, monuments, altars, 
 and other relics of the middle ages. I thought this arrange- 
 ment very original and appropriate. The pictures are not 
 remarkable, although the French school is admirable, being 
 rich and almost complete. This taste may have been influ- 
 enced by the French blood in the ruling family ; but from 
 whatever cause, the Swedes are to be congratulated on their 
 acquisition of this famous school. The dazzling court cos- 
 tumes are worth studying, as they show the varying de- 
 grees of vanity that possessed the monarchs from Gustavus 
 Vasa down to Oscar II. In one case are the garments worn 
 by Charles at the time he was shot. The familiar blue coat 
 and buff-colored waist-coat, the rusty, age-worn top boots 
 with savage spurs still clinging to them, the three-cornered hat 
 with the fatal bullet hole in the brim, and the long, blood- 
 stained gloves, are all that human eye may see of the intrepid 
 
1 66 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 soldier who taught Peter the art of war. The faded uniform 
 of Gustavus Adolphus is prominent, and so is the fancy 
 dress that marked another Gustavus for death. These 
 personal articles carry with them an intense interest for all 
 classes, and this room was always full of eager visitors. 
 
 Stockholm may be negative in its attractions, for it is true 
 there is little grandeur or beauty in its edifices or its streets ; 
 but no city shows better taste in the distribution of its 
 charms. Everything seems to catch the eye and please 
 the fancy. For instance : The king's garden, set in the 
 midst of life and traffic, is one of the sweetest spots imagin- 
 able. Avenues, flowers, fountains, statues, and theatres are 
 placed there, and in the evening the scene is lively enough 
 for a Parisian. The town is lavish in parks and little gar- 
 dens. Berzelii park is the favorite haunt of gleeful children 
 and their theatrically attired nurses ; but when the sun is 
 down a different class come upon the scene, and glitter- 
 ing cafes and bright music make midnight merry. 
 
 Under the Norrbro — and a handsome bridge it is — is a 
 small island reached by broad and aristocratic steps, where 
 an indulgent acquiescence in national taste has placed a cafe 
 and laid out a fairy-like garden, full of bowers and grottos, 
 and there crowds assemble to dance and to frolic. Then 
 there remains the deer garden, easily reached by one of the 
 little steamers that skip there a score of times every day, 
 and carry on each trip more than their complement of pas- 
 sengers. This island, being devoted to pleasure, is full of 
 drives and walks through grand oaks and fir-trees, of arti- 
 ficial cascades which make Norwegians grin all over, and 
 last but not least, of booths and open-air theatres, where one 
 sniffs the real aroma of the boulevards, and listens to all 
 kinds of wit. On Sunday this resort overflows with merri- 
 ment, and a battalion of soldiers is always at hand to assist 
 the police in case of need. I think the Swedes are more 
 
UPS ALA. 167 
 
 disposed to strong drink than some other peoples ; but my 
 object was not to pry open weaknesses, but to see good 
 things, therefore I took no statistics. 
 
 Ulricksdal is a country chateau with beautiful environs, 
 and a favorite lounging-place for afternoon parties : so is 
 Drottningholm on the island of Lofo. This is the Windsor 
 castle or the Saint Cloud of Sweden, and has always been 
 inhabited by some of the royal family. The gardens are 
 prettily laid out, and present a highly ornamental appear- 
 ance when viewed from the terrace near the palace. They 
 contain the usual number of statues and arbors and playing 
 fountains, and would do credit to any country. All these 
 places are within the easy reach of a few hours, and no 
 matter how long one may stay in Stockholm during the 
 summer, there is always something new to do and to see. 
 
 One day I went to the venerable university town of 
 Upsala, then in the midst of the summer vacation, and con- 
 sequently asleep. It is a lovely town, and the ideal place 
 of learning. The streets are broad and shady ; the homes 
 dignified, and enclosed with gardens and hedges. The 
 cathedral attracts the stranger, but like other churches in 
 that country it does not fascinate. Brick is useful for many 
 purposes, but cathedral building is not one of them. So 
 there in Upsala the edifice appeared overgrown and clumsy, 
 and its severe Gothic style seemed lugubriously out of place 
 in a latitude so high. Stern simplicity predominates within 
 and without. Along the side aisles chapels are arranged, 
 and illustrious dead repose in them ; but only a few mon- 
 uments impress the visitor. Great Linnaeus lies beneath 
 a plain slab ; but posterity has been more indulgent to 
 Eric the patron saint, and given his bones a chest of sil- 
 ver. This argentiferous repository is securely fenced in, 
 and is beyond the reach of profane hands. In one chapel 
 Gustavus Vasa sleeps, and this is the shrine of Swedish wor- 
 
1 68 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ship. The walls are covered with paintings representing 
 different epochs in the hero's life, beginning with his Dale- 
 carlian refuge, and ending with his dying scene in the pres- 
 ence of the Estates. The idea is good, and it has been car- 
 ried out in commendable taste. An observance of equal 
 rights has placed his three wives in the same chapel, and 
 no impropriety has ever been hinted at. 
 
 The archbishop lives here, and his influence, no doubt, 
 contributes to the purity of its atmosphere. Still, with 
 1,500 undergraduates this purity must now and then be 
 tainted. I met several of the young men, and was struck 
 with their courteous bearing and civility to strangers. 
 Above all, I noticed that, unlike the German students, a 
 scarred face is not regarded as a mark of distinction. The 
 university buildings are plain and home-like ; the botanical 
 gardens, laid out and watched over by Linnaeus, are beauti- 
 ful beyond words to describe ; and the ancient ill-shaped 
 and mammoth castle on the adjoining eminence is frightful 
 to contemplate. Nowhere in my travels did I see a build- 
 ing more illogical in construction or more unsatisfactory in 
 result. 
 
 For a gentle vacation I unhesitatingly recommend Upsa- 
 la. It is the essence of peace and respectability, and as its 
 place in the world of letters is assured, one ought to feel a 
 certain pride in making its acquaintance. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 STOCKHOLM TO SAINT PETERSBURG. 
 
 MY stay in Stockholm had been prolonged into the de- 
 clining days of summer. The once glittering cafes 
 winked drowsily ; the merry patrons no longer sat under the 
 stars, for the musicians had packed their instruments, and, 
 along with the ballet and chorus, had turned their backs on 
 the scenes of former triumphs, and sought more propitious 
 latitudes. The season had gone, and with it its attractions. 
 A longer sojourn would have been inexcusable, so I cast my 
 eyes towards the empire of the czar. 
 
 For the first time in my wanderings a passport became as 
 indispensable as a letter of credit ; for although the rest of 
 Europe is quite willing to take strangers on trust, Russia 
 strenuously insists on the formality of an international intro- 
 duction. Consequently I called on the czar's consul-general, 
 a kindly man, who received me with smiles and a cordial 
 shake of the hand, and who forthwith proceeded to affix his 
 official hieroglyphics, including the imperial eagle, in this 
 case not a bird of freedom, for the very democratic sum of 
 thirty-seven cents, and bade me good-by with seeming sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 Unless there is more wealth poured into the consul's lap 
 than that received from viseeing passports, I cannot com- 
 mend his position to the average office-seeker. In my sub- 
 sequent journeyings through Russia, my passport became so 
 thickly covered with police permits and official stamps as to 
 necessitate adding a small supplement to the sheet in order 
 
I^O AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 to get everything on, and even then they found the docu- 
 ment not always adequate to official requirement. For the 
 time being I became a living part of Russian history, but I 
 paid liberally for my briefly assumed citizenship. 
 
 Thus equipped, according to the requirements of the law, 
 I secured passage on the " Constantin," a most comfortable 
 steamer plying direct between Stockholm and St. Peters- 
 burg, and, half sorrowfully, watched the lights disappear as 
 we followed the winding course of the river leading to the 
 open sea. In a few minutes after leaving the dock, Stock- 
 holm with its delightful memories faded into the night, but 
 not into forgetfulness, for my live weeks sojourn there was 
 too well impressed on my mind to be wholly effaced. 
 
 The Finnish students, with their green, half-military caps, 
 enlivened the early stages of the journey with songs and 
 music and most fraternal beer-drinking, always touching 
 their glasses, as if that formality were duly prescribed by 
 statute. But I noticed that this is so all over Scandinavia, 
 and, although quite unnecessary so far as the enjoyment of 
 the drink is concerned, is perfectly harmless, and tends to 
 promote good relations among fellow-citizens. 
 
 The billowy Baltic was not wanting in tricks and gym- 
 nastic performances during the night, but I slept soundly, 
 and the next morning, on looking out the port, found that 
 we were skirting the low-wooded shores of Finland, and 
 about mid-day we made the acquaintance of Abo, once the 
 capital of the province. It is still well worth visiting, not- 
 withstanding it seems to be under the malign influence of 
 some strong narcotic ; for, capitolless as it now is, Abo is 
 still the first outpost of the mighty Russian empire. 
 
 As the steamer moved slowly up the river, I tried to 
 count the lumber vessels lying in the stream or alongside 
 the shore, taking on their cargoes through great square holes 
 in the ships' bows close to the water's edge ; but the fleet 
 
 
ABO. I7 1 
 
 was too numerous, and, moreover, the shipping statistics of 
 Abo, obtained at the expense of other sights, would never 
 repay me. I soon gave it up, and turned my attention to 
 objects less nautical. The fire-wood, stretching in long 
 lines up and down the banks, gave the scene a martial as- 
 pect of the very old-fashioned palisade description ; but the 
 cosey dwellings, counterparts of those I had seen in Nor- 
 way, with their lovely window-gardens, dispelled the im- 
 pression of war, and brought to my mind the historical fact 
 that the people of Finland, although bearing allegiance to 
 the czar, still retain their Swedish customs, and, I believe, 
 continue to enjoy their former system of laws. Surely, in 
 walking about the streets, I saw very little that reminded 
 me of the Slav : everything was impressed with Scandi- 
 navian characteristics — the shop signs, the public prints, 
 the conversation, and even the appearance of the inhabi- 
 tants. I do not remember to have come across a Greek 
 church during my saunterings, and so concluded that the 
 spirit of Lutheranism still shaped the religious policy of 
 Abo. 
 
 However, I met with one institution so undeniably Rus- 
 sian that I felt compelled forthwith to investigate it — the 
 drosky. It is the national cab of the country, and is to be 
 found in almost as great abundance as fleas. Although 
 popularly designed for the conveyance of passengers, it par- 
 takes somewhac of an instrument of torture — at least such 
 a reputation may be safely ascribed to the vehicle without 
 falsifying. And then the driver — he surely occupies a sta- 
 tion midway between the typical Russian priest and the 
 ideal Greek private. 
 
 These droskymen may answer all the requirements of 
 civility and well meaning, and yet it is rare indeed that so 
 much that is good calls forth so much distrust and appre- 
 hension as do these unwashed, unkempt, uncouth, but nee- 
 
172 AALESUND TO TETUAN 
 
 essary, disciples of imperialism. Dark-skinned, with long, 
 matted beards falling over their breasts, and gnarled shocks 
 of hair trailing down their backs, wearing tall, minute-glass 
 shaped hats, while round their waists, wound in generous 
 folds, is a sash which serves the double purpose of keeping 
 their long Ulster coats in place, and of affording a holding- 
 on strap for the inexperienced passenger. 
 
 The driver never sits down and takes life easily, but 
 stands braced against the seat, and, lashing his horse into a 
 run, yells and snaps his whip, his long hair streaming out 
 behind, well-nigh rivalling the horse's tail, and at the same 
 time the recently inducted tourist clings frantically to the 
 seat, or reaches out in wild despair and grasps the afore- 
 said sash. The ethnological specimens are the same 
 whether in St. Petersburg, Moscow, or Abo, but I shall 
 never forget my first experience of being propelled over the 
 rough places of the ancient town. Droskies are blessed 
 with springs, but they only aggravate the misery, for you 
 bounce all the more ; and yet, after all, these little carriages, 
 both of the rich and the poor, give picturesqueness and 
 vivacity to Russian street scenes. 
 
 Our steamer chafed contentedly at the dock for seven 
 hours, thus affording time enough to inspect everything in 
 the town ; but there is not much to see, so the long wait 
 finally became irksome. The delay was not occasioned by 
 the amount of cargo, for it was all landed or taken on 
 board in less than an hour — a proceeding greatly relished by 
 the custom officers, who improved the remaining time in 
 peaceful slumbers. Toward evening signs of life showed 
 themselves, the steam wheezed more vigorously, and the 
 crew went about their duties with a quicker step ; then the 
 whistle sounded, and additional passengers came leisurely 
 down the landing. 
 
 Abo cannot boast of a large population, and yet it seemed 
 
HELSINGFORS. 1 7 3 
 
 as if the entire town, babes and all, turned out to see our 
 departure. We again had our quota of students, accom- 
 panied by their comrades who stood on the pier and sang 
 sweet farewells to the fellows on the boat. This custom is 
 a Scandinavian trait, and a pretty one it is, for nothing is 
 sweeter than these musical courtesies, which every one may 
 enjoy. Far into the night these grand songs resounded 
 over the moonlit sea, while the passengers, forgetful of the 
 small hours, stood silently about enraptured by the exquisite 
 melodies. 
 
 After sailing all the next day amid the archipelago that 
 extends from Abo to Helsingfors, we made fast to our land- 
 ing at the latter place, and again I took a peep at Russia 
 through the open door of Finland. 
 
 So far as nature is concerned, Helsingfors presents about 
 the same appearance as Abo, although the approach is not 
 by river. But this town is the capital of the province and 
 its largest city, and, judging from the fortifications, must be 
 held in some esteem by the government. We steamed up 
 the harbor amid the Baltic fleet, Russia's most formidable 
 naval defence, which then consisted of a score or more of 
 huge iron-clads, lying at anchor, pounding up and down on 
 the waves, and wasting the people's money at a great rate. 
 One of the largest was crawling along slowly, keeping up 
 a furious bombardment at an innocent sand-bank, the heavy 
 booming of her cannon commingling strangely with the 
 merry peal from the hill-capped church. But the church 
 was Greek, and its minarets and bulbous domes glistened 
 in the sunlight as if smiling at the devastation of the fleet. 
 Te be sure it was Sunday, and yet the guns no less than the 
 bells were proving their loyalty to the White Czar. 
 
 The town was full of soldiers and sailors, and a riotous 
 day they made of it, — fights, carousals, and maudlin songs, — 
 a real old-fashioned abandonment of discipline and respon- 
 
174 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 sibility ; and yet the happy fellows meant no harm nor 
 treason. These troops were my first Russians, and they 
 disappointed me sadly. In appearance they reminded me 
 of the pictures of our Revolutionary soldiers during the 
 dismal months at Valley Forge — ill clad, grizzly, and, I 
 might say, dirty in their make-up. There was no romance 
 about them. The common soldier did not impress me as 
 having a love for his profession ; he moved about awk- 
 wardly, moping and staring, and manifesting little or no 
 evidence of the drill-sergeant's vigorous teachings; and yet 
 braver fellows never charged a battery than these same 
 stolid and uninteresting soldiers whom I saw that day going 
 through the streets of Helsingfors munching loaves of tough 
 bread or quaffing Swedish ale. The peculiar cast of their 
 faces told me that they were not natives of Finland. They 
 failed to resemble the Fin or the Swede, and on inquiry 
 I was told that this particular corps was recruited in the 
 distant parts of the empire and quartered here for precau- 
 tionary reasons, inasmuch as they have nothing in com- 
 mon with the inhabitants of the Baltic provinces, not even 
 language, thus lessening the chances of plots and insurrec- 
 tions. This is an artful contrivance, and is practised in all 
 parts of Europe. In Spain I saw the Basque soldiers 
 parading the narrow streets of Cadiz, all speaking a lan- 
 guage as strange to Andalusian ears as Hindostanee. 
 
 Leaving for the moment these martial scenes, I climbed 
 the hill and entered the garnished church, where I listened 
 to the services, which were singularly beautiful. It was the 
 first time I had seen the interior of a Greek church, and the 
 somewhat dazzling ornaments, combined with the ritual, 
 gave me a gentle exhilaration ; but a few days later, when 
 standing in St. Isaacs, the recollection of the Helsingfors 
 ceremonial faded on the instant, and my former mild exhil- 
 aration gave way to an overpowering intoxication. How- 
 
CRONSTADT. 1 75 
 
 ever, I credited myself with a sincere pleasure as I watched 
 the sparkling scene on that first Sunday. 
 
 We sailed again just as the sun fell behind the hills, leav- 
 ing: us to the guidance of the moonbeams that came like 
 golden serpents over the rolling waves. The next morning 
 a forest of masts directly ahead showed the location of 
 Cronstadt, the Russian Gibraltar, lying quietly at the 
 mouth of the Neva, ready for commerce or ready for war. 
 The color of the water had changed, and was now tinged 
 with mud. The sea had contracted until the only pathway 
 from the world to the capital of the Russias was a narrow 
 channel, and on each side were shoals and lowlands. Peter 
 built more wisely than his contemporaries gave him credit 
 for, and the city christened with his name lies just as he 
 intended it should lie, behind the iron and granite of Cron- 
 stadt harbor. 
 
 Cronstadt is St. Petersburg moved twenty miles out to 
 sea, and is a town of considerable enterprise and impor- 
 tance, especially in a naval point of view, as it is the sta- 
 tion for the Baltic fleet and also a ship-building port. 
 However, no traveller would care to spend much time 
 prowling about its narrow and tar-perfumed streets — at 
 least I did not, and so contented myself during the delay by 
 viewing its surroundings. All around were fortifications, 
 huge coliseums rising from the wave, thickly punctured 
 with sullen casements containing loud-mouthed orators of 
 war, while in more unpretentious attitudes were floating 
 batteries and sand redoubts, each eagerly waiting for some- 
 thing to do. Behind the granite and the iron nestled all 
 the latest devices for killing mankind, ready at a moment's 
 warning to pour forth their endless sheet of flame and 
 death, or to block the very sea itself with tons of shot and 
 shell ; and yet all this unwonted terror looked as dumb and 
 as peaceful as the lofty warehouses fringing the docks. 
 
176 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Scarcely a sentinel patrolled the deserted parapets, and yet 
 10,000 soldiers sing their mess songs behind the massive 
 walls. 
 
 Passing the forts without challenge or hinderance, we 
 dropped anchor opposite the custom-house, and there pa- 
 tiently waited the coming of the officers. The captain saw 
 that our passports were all right, and that the ship's papers 
 were properly arranged, and then began nervously pacing 
 the deck, until, weary of wasting so much time, he blew 
 the hoarse whistle, and kept blowing it until I had some 
 apprehensions lest the supply of steam should give out ; but 
 this economic idea did not seem to trouble him, although 
 the harbor reverberated with our bellowings. But the 
 Russians love noise, and what is more noiseful than a 
 screeching steam whistle? Pending these disturbances I 
 observed a little arrangement on the part of the steward 
 that rather interested me. Just before the officers' launch 
 came along side, that dignitary ambled into the saloon bear- 
 ing a tray plentifully supplied with teacups and glasses, 
 and further adorned by a large holder chocked with ciga- 
 rettes ; later he came again, bearing a steaming samovar, 
 without which Russia would indeed be a sterile waste. I 
 afterwards found out that tea was as much the basis of all 
 transactions in Russia as it is the basis of certain punches 
 in the United States. The czar's men came trooping down 
 the cabin stairs, and, sinking like weary mortals into easy- 
 chairs, waited the attentions of the steward, who was not 
 long in coming to the rescue by pouring out hot tea, which 
 the officers in turn poured into their throats until I expected 
 to see their waistcoats smoke and finally burst out into 
 flame. Having taken the lining oft' their mouths and gul- 
 lets, to say no more, and inhaled cigarette smoke until tears 
 came to their eyes, they condescended to examine our cre- 
 dentials, and then, bidding all hands adieu, took their 
 
DOMES AND SPIRES. 177 
 
 departure and went bounding over the waves, evidently 
 charmed at our captain's thoughtfulness. 
 
 Slowly the panorama of the capital unfolded as the 
 "Constantin" steamed ahead, and under the bright influ- 
 ence of a September sun the spectacle was marvellously 
 beautiful. Suspended over the city like a balloon of fire 
 loomed the golden dome of St. Isaac's, with its burnished 
 plating flashing in the sunlight and jealously demanding 
 homage from earth and heaven. For a time my eyes saw 
 nothing else, and I bethought myself of Turner's master- 
 pieces in the National Gallery, half believing he must have 
 received his inspiration here on this very spot. In a mo- 
 ment a rival comes upon the vision, and yet not a rival, for 
 this is a shapely needle of gold, ambitious in its aspirations, 
 shooting hundreds of feet above the house-tops as if spurn- 
 ing them, and calling down upon its slender form a stream of 
 quivering sunshine. It is the celebrated spire on the Admi- 
 ralty buildings. Across the Neva another spire leaps sky- 
 ward, carrying with it a golden flame no less brilliant than 
 the others ; but it ought to be even richer, for this arrow of 
 gold marks the last resting-place of the imperial family. 
 It rises from that simple church and mausoleum, at once so 
 grand and so impressive. Spire after spire, and then, as the 
 city becomes nearer, minaret after minaret, offer their charms 
 to the stranger ; then rises, in stern contrast to all this 
 splendid array, that towering monolith dedicated to the 
 memory of the first Alexander ; then the river banks show 
 they solid quays and unending phalanx of granite and brick 
 facades, broken by broad streets extending back into the 
 heart of the great city. Industry sends forth its greeting to 
 the world's commerce tossing on the Neva. Now the sym- 
 metrical iron bridge bars the way, and just beyond the mar- 
 ble outlines of the royal palaces greet the eye. The steamer 
 stops, and St. Petersburg with all its wonders is at hand. 
 
 8* 
 
178 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 However good-natured the month of September may be 
 in other parts of the world, it showed me but slight courtesy 
 during the two weeks I spent in Peter's window, for rain — 
 good, hard, pelting rain — or savage blasts from the north, 
 came in military order and cleared the streets. I got a 
 bitter taste from each of the four seasons, which took turns 
 in promenading the city. The gale blowing from the Gulf 
 of Finland drove the Neva back upon the quays with aston- 
 ishing rapidity, until the water splashed the boulevard in 
 front of the Winter Palace, and the religious inhabitants of 
 the town took to praying in order to avert the impending 
 flood. Through weakly sunshine and strong shadows I 
 saw the great capital whose foundations were laid only 
 yesterday, and I could but wonder at the sight. 
 
 So far as palace decorations and church ornamentations 
 interest one, the city on the Neva is a veritable mine, stored 
 with riches gathered from every land — the booty of war and 
 the gifts of peace. Lavish adornments, almost gaudy and 
 out of place, art treasures whose loss would impoverish 
 the world, hang in the galleries of the famous Hermitage ; 
 and in the public buildings are presented all the studied 
 glories of architectural designing. The modern brain has 
 wrought out these fancies, or imitated the masters of cen- 
 turies ago ; for scarcely a hundred and fifty years have 
 passed away since resolute Peter stood in the desolate marsh 
 and saw in his imagination the wonders of his future capital 
 rise out of the very sea to startle the world. 
 
 To those who dislike fresh paint St. Petersburg is not 
 wholly attractive, and yet there is no city in Europe where so 
 many styles of architecture show themselves. Some styles 
 are remarkable for originality, and will probably pass down 
 to coming ages unimitated, while others bear the impress 
 of beauty and lightness. As for the public edifices in gen- 
 eral, I thought them more noticeable for size than for ele- 
 
CHURCHES AXD JEWELS. 1 79 
 
 gance. The Grand Duke's palace, the War office, the 
 Admiralty, and even the Winter Palace, did not come up 
 to my expectations : they were colossal, but not handsome. 
 The less noted houses, such as those of the members of the 
 court, are more tasteful, and evince a larger degree of cor- 
 rect appreciation. 
 
 Religious architecture, frequently the index of national 
 taste, presents the same want of outside beauty, although 
 once inside and the effect is appalling. Russian churches, 
 quite to my surprise, are not imposing in grandeur as are 
 those in Italy and Spain, where the intention seemed to 
 have been to build so as to startle future generations, but 
 are modest in comparison. There is no Seville cathedral 
 in Russia. The interiors, so far as form is concerned, do 
 not call forth any especial admiration, as they are wanting 
 in those magnificent naves and choirs which are the glories 
 of southern Europe. There is a something in Russian 
 churches that makes their interiors unpleasant, if not unin- 
 teresting ; and this I found everywhere, unless it was in St. 
 Isaac's, which is roundly condemned by self-appointed 
 critics, and in that grand edifice at Moscow known as the 
 Church of the Saviour. In both these churches I saw the 
 marvels of art and ceremony in all their completeness. To 
 be sure, my mission was not to study sacred architecture ; 
 but in the way of common observation I must say there was 
 a singular want of symmetry without, and an equal want of 
 arrangement within. The display of jewels and treasures 
 was enormous, but after all there is no real pleasure to be 
 derived from gazing at these indiscriminate displays of 
 gems and jewels : the sight is too spectacular to be digni- 
 fied. If the custodians of so much wealth would only 
 arrange their collections in a systematic manner, by putting 
 them in glass cases, properly labelled, and not fling them 
 helter-skelter into dark corners, the effect would be vastly 
 
l8o AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 increased. However vulgar or out of place it may seem, it 
 is well to bear in mind that the Russians have a perfect 
 right to display their diamonds and rubies just as they 
 please ; and if they see fit to clothe their mummied saints in 
 gay raiments, or to bedeck them with the wealth of the 
 Indies, why it is their business and not ours. 
 
 If it were not for these peculiarities, St. Petersburg would 
 be shorn of much originality, for the city has been, and is, 
 an inveterate borrower from every capital in Christendom 
 and heathendom,. appropriating designs, or removing origi- 
 nals, without begging pardon, and often without giving 
 credit. Many sights bring back visions of places seen in 
 other lands ; as, for instance, I remember my first evening's 
 stroll. While wandering about merely for the exercise, I came 
 into the square containing the -great monolith, and for a 
 moment I thought myself back in Paris. The twilight scene 
 was exceedingly Parisian, and at the first glance I fancied I 
 saw the Place Vendome, for this square is very suggestive 
 both in shape and surroundings. Then, again, I stayed my 
 steps, and gazed on the curving porticos and shapely col- 
 umns in front of the Church of the Lady of Kasan, and 
 thought of St. Peter's ; but the impression was only for a 
 moment, as this church is ridiculously wanting in generous 
 environments. And so it was in all my sight-seeing : im- 
 portations of every description — droskies excepted — were 
 constantly presenting themselves, thus proving that the 
 Petersburgers delight in the choice things of this world, 
 and, failing to secure the original, forthwith proceed to have 
 a duplicate. 
 
 The Nevski Prospekt is the great artery leading from the 
 capital to the remotest parts of the empire : and what an 
 artery ! It is the Strand, the Rue de Rivoli, the Rambla,Unter 
 den Linden, and the Corso all in one — an endless surging 
 crowd on the sidewalk, and a wild dashing crowd in the street. 
 
THE NEVSKI PROSPEKT. l8l 
 
 Palaces and shops, princes and peasants, soldiers and priests, 
 bazars and blazing shrines, and the nondescript in nature 
 and artifice, claim joint ownership in this famous street, 
 where half a million people are constantly passing. Com- 
 merce and pleasure eye one another jealously, for heavy 
 drays impede the galloping troikas of the rich, and the 
 Prospekt, so long and straight, furnishes a grand racing 
 ground. Up and down the broad thoroughfare they dash, 
 the drivers yelling at the top of their lungs, and urging the 
 steeds to a pace quite inconsistent with the ordinary police 
 regulation. But nobody cares for such mild restrictions, and 
 I am not certain that any exist : so the racing goes on un- 
 interrupted, and St. Petersburg looks on and applauds. In no 
 other crowded street in the world would this headlong and 
 reckless sport be tolerated ; and it is unaccountable on any 
 ground, unless it be that of encouraging a Russian to an 
 occasional hurry. In this view the practice is to be com- 
 mended. To emerge from some dimly lighted street on to 
 the Prospekt, and behold the gay and noisy spectacle of 
 horse-racing, is a lasting memory to any stranger. 
 
 Mingle with the people, follow in their footsteps and 
 observe them closely, and you will surely be well paid for 
 your study. All nations contribute their children to this 
 rabble : first the native, then the Armenian, the typical Jew 
 with gaberdine and high boot, the Georgian, the Greek, the 
 Fin, and the German, all are there, each intent on his own 
 affairs, and all thinking in different languages. The homo- 
 geneity of the empire must be an unknown quantity. 
 Peasants were clad in dirty sheep-skins : I thought such 
 primitive garments had long since disappeared from modern 
 backs, but here they were just as their ancestors wore them, 
 and possibly they may have been the identical skins. 
 
 In the crowd, some more devout than others dropped on 
 their knees before the glittering sidewalk shrines and offered 
 
1 82 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 prayer, then passed on conscious of duty performed, while 
 I lingered behind to take a closer view of these flaring 
 altars. Placed conveniently, generally near a church, and 
 open toward the street, these miniature churches, with a 
 conflagration of candles and lights, attract the attention of 
 the faithful, and call them to prayer. Long-haired priests 
 with grotesque hats move about the altar and keep the 
 lights in order, trimming the tapers or replacing them, and 
 at the same time giving some thought to the all-important 
 subject of finance. The average Greek priest is but a slight 
 improvement on the drosky driver: he too prides himself 
 on his profusion of whiskers and tresses, but he does not 
 wear a sash about his waist, and therein he differs from the 
 man of the whip. As matrimony is enjoined on the clergy, 
 it would seem that all this scragginess might be avoided, 
 for an hour occasionally spent on these ecclesiastics by the 
 spouse would work wonders. 
 
 The Gostini Bazar, a huge collection of booths, where 
 everything known to human ingenuity can be found, was 
 ablaze with its illumination, reminding me of so many post- 
 office boxes as I walked leisurely past. 
 
 Sixty thousand troops are quartered within the city boun- 
 daries, one to every ten inhabitants, yet on the streets the 
 proportion appears much greater, as sabres keep up a con- 
 stant clanking over the pavements, and uniforms are every- 
 where. Like a camp is St. Petersburg, and yet I saw it in 
 a time of profound peace, when no scientific frontier vexed 
 the body politic. Cossacks on ponies, carrying long lances, 
 dashed by, and squadrons of cavalry moved in long lines 
 up the boulevards, giving animation to a scene that needed 
 none. Then came the sound of many hoofs clattering over 
 the stones, and the pedestrians rush to the edges of the 
 walks: it means some official and his escort, and in a mo- 
 ment he whirls past, while the crowd lift their hats and the 
 
THE NEVSKI MONASTERY. 1 83 
 
 idle officers stop to salute him. So I found the Nevski the 
 most continuously populated thoroughfare in Europe, the 
 most animated, strange and sometimes wierd, but always, 
 so it seemed to me, a European stage, where Asia produces 
 a wonderful panorama of men and things, and furnishes a 
 veritable glimpse of the Orient. 
 
 The white walls and green roofs at the end of the Nevski 
 Prospekt, looking like the country seat of some potentate, 
 resolve themselves, on nearer approach, into the celebrated 
 monastery consecrated to the blessed memory of St. Alex- 
 ander Nevski, whose fugitive bones are gathered up and 
 preserved in the magnificent shrine of the church. It is 
 one of the sights of St. Petersburg, and ought not to be 
 omitted ; so I trusted myself to the cosmopolitan conveyance 
 known as the horse car, and went on my way. By some 
 error of calculation, the car deposited me at quite a distance 
 from the gates, and I was obliged to walk through the mud 
 and rain for more than a mile. 
 
 I mention this to show how often one makes mistakes of 
 this kind in Russia. It is impossible to read the signs on 
 the cars, or the time-cards, and if you ask for information, 
 the chances are that the answer will come back in the ver- 
 nacular. The only course is, to take the risks and go 
 ahead. A drosky would have solved the difficulty, and at 
 the same time the low vehicle, as it dashed through the soft 
 mud, would have given me a closer introduction to the city 
 than I desired. 
 
 I passed through the wide gate, and stood within the 
 enclosure of the great monastery, in a kind of quadrangle, 
 plentifully clothed with grass in the middle, while on the 
 sides were the churches, dormitories, halls, and other build- 
 ings belonging to the institution. Neatness, order, and 
 desertion were the most noticeable features, unless it was 
 the priests, who wore a gloomy countenance, as if some- 
 
184 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 thing had gone wrong. In Russia the holy fathers are 
 married men. Workmen hammering marble for some mor- 
 tuary uses made the solitude more apparent, but on I went, 
 regardless of the printed rules that constantly stared me in 
 the face. I could not read or even decipher the notice, 
 therefore I took no heed of its injunctions, but continued 
 my investigations. The object of my dismal pilgrimage 
 was the wondrous chest, wherein reposed the remains of 
 the saint, hi^ sacred bones and fibres, or any other portion 
 rescued from death and dust. Not to behold that would be 
 humiliating and disappointing, and I grew resolute. My 
 footsteps led me into a small church or chapel — in Spain 
 it would come under the latter head — elaborately orna- 
 mented with gold and silver offerings, and containing many 
 marble sarcophagi, white as the Arctic snow and touch- 
 ingly simple. It was a rare sight, considering there was 
 such an opportunity for display. 
 
 At last I saw a priest flitting noiselessly about the altar, 
 so I approached him and opened my attack. He bowed, 
 and appeared companionable and communicative, and my 
 hopes rose accordingly. He seemed disposed to enlarge 
 his mundane acquaintance, and I asked him to show me 
 the tomb of the saint. This I said in French, and he 
 shook his locks mournfully. I tried him in scant German, 
 Spanish, English, Swedish, and I even wrote in Latin, but 
 his sorrowful expression only grew deeper. It was all 
 lost on this holy gentleman. In despair I tried pantomime, 
 and pointed to tombs, but the exact relation I bore to 
 tombs evidently did not enter into his comprehension. The 
 worst thing about my polyglottous attempt was that I could 
 not pronounce Alexander Nevski so as to be understood, 
 nor could I write or print it with any better result. I might 
 just as well have said George Washington. The fun of the 
 interview was rapidly vanishing, when a brother priest came 
 
ST. ALEXANDER'S SARCOPHAGUS. 1 85 
 
 upon the scene, and brother No. 1 grinningly explained 
 the situation. I shall never know the precise turn that 
 that explanation took, but I am sure a rich monastic joke 
 passed between them. Number 2 spoke French, and my 
 present difficulties were over. 
 
 The church where I stood was filled with distinguished 
 dead — statesmen, councillors, and soldiers — who, while liv- 
 ing, expressed a hope that their bodies might be put away 
 in the confines of the old monastery, as it is considered a 
 hisrh honor to be interred there. But the church I had come 
 to see lay a short distance beyond, and thither I went, ac- 
 companied by my guide. Outside, in the quadrangle, the 
 dreariness had increased, and the scene was more dismal 
 than before. Pools of water had suddenly sprung into 
 existence, and gusts of wind scurried across the courts. 
 The cheerlessness had gone up tenfold. 
 
 The Nevski church taken alone would be voted most 
 elegant ; and even in St. Petersburg, with her score of em- 
 bellished sanctuaries, this well formed and somewhat mod- 
 est edifice cannot fail to please one. The vault is supported 
 by shapely columns, and the walls adorned with the reg- 
 ulation trophies and spoils, in addition to which must be 
 mentioned the portraits of Peter and his wife. The sar- 
 cophagus containing the blessed bones of the savage saint, 
 who in his day spilled more gore than a Chicago butcher, 
 is a very remarkable piece of designing. It is unfortunately 
 so placed in the corner that a good view is impossible, but 
 enough may be seen to challenge admiration. The massive 
 sarcophagus rests under a flaring canopy upheld by four 
 silver pillars, and these in turn are guarded by a quartette 
 of angels addicted to martial music, for in their outstretched 
 hands are trumpets. These supernal guardians keep con- 
 stant vigil over the treasure committed to their charge, and 
 in case of anything wrong are expected to sound an alarm. 
 
1 86 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Both the canopy and the sarcophagus, in fact everything about 
 the shrine, are of solid silver. More than 3,000 pounds were 
 needed to create the memorial. A ton and a half of bullion 
 transformed into a shining temple to commemorate the 
 glorious deeds of St. Alexander ! But this is Russia. 
 
 Nevski gave the Swedes a terrific beating on the banks 
 of the Neva, thus saving his country from the ruthless 
 invaders; and this made him most dear to Peter, who 
 ordered this monastery and its shrine to be built so that the 
 bones of his hero might forever have an appropriate rest- 
 ing-place. No expense was spared, and the result is that 
 Alexander beats the whole Romanoff line in the gorgeous- 
 ness of his entombment. When the silver casket was ready, 
 Peter steered the barge that brought the remains to their 
 splendid home, and then, satisfied with his devotion, pro- 
 ceeded to carouse. It seems that the early inhabitants of 
 the capital contained some enterprising gentry among them, 
 for history recalls that there was considerable trouble in 
 keeping the saint's bones from stealing away — "miracles," 
 so the priests said ; but Peter knew better than that, and, 
 having recovered the precious anatomy, bluntly informed 
 the holy fathers that in case another miracle occurred they 
 should answer for it with their heads. Since then there 
 have been no further miracles within the monastery. 
 
 My religious friend pointed out the historic features of 
 the little church, dwelling occasionally upon some object 
 of particular interest as if I, too, partook of his feelings; 
 and when he thought I had got enough of Saint Nevski's 
 neighborhood he very kindly took me about the dormitories 
 and halls connected with the institution. In cleanliness 
 and arrangement they reminded me of that monastic gem 
 San Lazzaro on the Venetian island, quiet and peaceful, 
 seemingly a thousand leagues from the heart of a seething 
 and discontented empire. 
 
PRIESTS. 187 
 
 The black clergy have an easier time of life than the 
 white clergy, and there exists between them the warmest 
 kind of jealousy, which nothing short of a radical change 
 can ever lessen. It is not only in the manner of living, but 
 in its emoluments, that the difference is seen ; for while the 
 white clergy bear the burdens, their more fortunate brothers 
 bear the purse, — and with the clergy, as well as with other 
 beings, money breeds strife. The Russian priest does not 
 inspire that deep respect evoked by the Romish father, for 
 the people look upon him as a human machine of flesh and 
 blood, the same as the rest of mankind. In rural communi- 
 ties his authority is greater, but even there the peasants do 
 not tremble at his coming, for his family relations brings 
 him in closer contact with his flock, many of whom, no 
 doubt, have suffered from the playful depredations of his 
 offspring. A few breaches of discipline of this nature tend 
 to simplify the understanding between the chilliest priest 
 and his parishioners, so that there need be no feelings such 
 as " distance" or fear on the part of either. I cannot say a 
 word in favor of the priests' personal appearance : it would 
 be asking too much, considering how savage and unkempt 
 they looked, both in the church and out of it. If they only 
 used the razor their good looks might be a subject for de- 
 bate ; as it now is, their long beards and trailing hair pre- 
 clude them from the benefits of a doubt. Even the intelli- 
 gent and polite father who had me in charge would have 
 appreciated tenfold in good looks by spending an hour with 
 some skilful barber ; but he evidently thought otherwise, 
 and allowed his religious aspect to increase every moon. 
 
 I must confess that the Nevski monastery did not give me 
 much pleasure, for, excepting the rich shrine, the other 
 buildings have very little to offer. I have visited the relig- 
 ious houses in other lands, and been thoroughly pleased at 
 what I saw, but here I did not have that feeling. I bade 
 
1 88 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 my guide good-bye, and after contributing a gratuity for the 
 aims-box, took my departure and made my way cityward. 
 The rain had ceased, and in its dismal stead came a cool 
 breeze from the gulf which dried the sidewalks and sum- 
 moned forth on the instant that conglomerate collection of 
 people whose business it seems to be always to patrol the 
 Nevski Prospekt. 
 
 The men one meets in strolling about these populous 
 boulevards do not come up to the standard of Paris, Lon- 
 don, or Berlin. It may be that the faces are those of many 
 nationalities without being strong enough in any to set out 
 the best features of the race, or it may be due to some more 
 obscure reason. It was not the well dressed and graceful 
 assemblage such as courses down the Italiens or Regent 
 street on bright afternoons, swinging its canes and making 
 merry with every footstep. I observed this as soon as I 
 made my first acquaintance with St. Petersburg, and I do 
 not think my impression underwent any material change 
 during my stay. With the exception of Naples, the capital 
 of the czar pours forth the worst dressed population in civ- 
 ilized Europe. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 
 
 OUR Washington may be the city of magnificent dis- 
 tances, but St. Petersburg is the city of magnificent 
 spaces. There is none like it, nor is there likely to be 
 for many generations. In the matter of sizes and surprises 
 the marble and stucco city of the Neva is without a rival. 
 It is full of palaces, or edifices that vie with palaces in mag- 
 nificence and embellishment, for every public building is 
 constructed on the same grand scale, and receives its share 
 of expenditure with a proportional pride. Uncounted rou- 
 bles have conjured architectural skill into the facades of the 
 Winter Palace and the regimental barracks, for it is a prac- 
 tice not to slight any official structure, no matter how hum- 
 ble its uses may be ; consequently the city has earned its 
 palatial reputation. 
 
 The dock-yard, or Admiralty, was designed to be the 
 principal point in the town, and so it is, for the Nevski 
 Prospekt and two equally splendid thoroughfares start from 
 its gates, and, extending in three directions, divide the city 
 into four large districts. But the stranger gets the fullest 
 conception of the true grandeur of St. Petersburg by enter- 
 ing the square in front of the Winter Palace and looking 
 about him. Without fear of contradiction, I say this is the 
 consummation of gigantic buildings — the straggling War de- 
 partment, the dignified Winter Palace, and its lovely consort 
 the remodelled Hermitage, and in front of all the shaft tow- 
 ering skyward. At first I do not think the vastness of the 
 square impressed me ; I was inclined to take it as a matter 
 
190 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 of course, and to go away satisfied. But I saw it often ; 
 scarcely a day passed that I did not recross its pavements, 
 and it grew upon me until I was overwhelmed with its 
 largeness. Once it seemed like a cheap attempt to repro- 
 duce Place Vendome, but only once, and that was in the 
 gathering twilight, for the next time it unfolded upon the 
 view its French model dwindled into the insignificant area 
 of a flower-plot hemmed in by graceful chalets. Thousands 
 of troops could easily march and countermarch and perform 
 all their evolutions within the square, although a little be- 
 yond is a spacious park especially adapted for these military 
 displays. Russians insist on plenty of room, both in mat- 
 ters personal and imperial, and St. Petersburg emphasizes 
 the craving. 
 
 Set plump in the centre of the square is the Alexander 
 monument, a solid monolith, the loftiest in the world ; yet 
 in spite of this its environments considerably lessen its 
 real massiveness. If this huge shaft adorned any other 
 public square in the Eastern Hemisphere the adjacent land- 
 holders would be very nervous lest it might topple over ; 
 but here where unlimited space is the order of the day 
 no such danger threatens, and the inhabitants slumber in 
 safety. This gigantic monolith, when cut from its Finland 
 quarry, rejoiced in the unusual length of 102 feet, and was 
 gazed at with astonishment ; but the architect who had the 
 work in charge theorized to such a stupid degree that he 
 deprived this monarch of some twenty feet, and in this crip- 
 pled condition it was hauled to the banks of the Neva and 
 set in its present position. Its base is embellished in bas 
 reliefs made of Turkish cannon, and illustrates the unwonted 
 valor of the Cossacks and the Muscovites, while its capital 
 high in the air is surmounted by a figure of an angel carry- 
 ing a cross. As an American it became necessary to ascer- 
 tain the cost of this grand memorial, and I found that from 
 
ST. PETERSBURG. 19I 
 
 the pavement to the angel, 150 feet, the amount in our 
 money was not far from $2,000,000. Miserable peasants 
 clad in sheepskin pulled oft' their caps and crossed them- 
 selves religiously as they stood near the base of this costly 
 monument, dedicated, so the inscription reads, to Alexander 
 I, by a grateful people, and felt proud, maybe, for just a 
 moment, that some part of their hard-earned money showed 
 forth in the obelisk. 
 
 With graceful amphitheatrical curve the War Depart- 
 ment encloses the south side of the square, while di- 
 rectly opposite is the famous palace. The edifice of war 
 is tremendous in extent, and still pleasing to look upon, 
 not vulgar but symmetrical, an imposing pile worthy to 
 be the temple of Mars. Its facade, stretching along a 
 quarter of a mile, is broken in the centre by a splendid 
 archway sixty feet wide and as many high, which comes 
 near dividing the edifice into equal parts, as the capital of 
 the arch almost touches the balustrade. 
 
 The fine situation of the war buildings, together with 
 their curve, always attracts much attention, but to my mind 
 the "Admiralty," as it is called, presents a more beautiful 
 outline. There is a certain monotony expressed in the long 
 facade of the War Department which one does not find here, 
 and, besides, the "Admiralty" is emphasized by one of those 
 inexpressibly shapely spires shooting its gold-encased figure 
 into the free air, and serving as an exclamation point for 
 the beauties beneath. Bells, minarets, domes, and steeples 
 are essentially Russian, no town being complete without 
 them ; but the idea of spires so shapely and rich seems to 
 have been created in the city on the Neva, for it is certain 
 they there attain the greatest perfection, and are more often 
 seen than in Moscow and the cities to the east and south. 
 
 If old Peter should reappear on the scene of his great 
 undertaking, the palace he built would not be recognized, 
 
192 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 nor would any of its surroundings save the river which 
 glides past its foundations on its way to the sea. Time has 
 done wonders and performed miracles, and a genuine Slav- 
 onic transmogrification has taken place. Peter's rough 
 palace disappeared years ago, and another rose in its place ; 
 and in due time that went heavenward in smoke and cin- 
 ders, leaving the site clear for another display of imperial 
 extravagance and ill-taste, which was at once seized upon 
 and carried out with undeviating consistency. With a sit- 
 uation unexcelled, with wealth and workmen such as an 
 Indian prince might envy, this palace ought to rear its 
 head among the most beautiful creations of the modern 
 world, and challenge admiration from every quarter; but, 
 alas ! the pile of brick and stucco known as the Winter 
 Palace is deformed and ugly. Such a grand opportunity 
 and such a lamentable failure rarely come into conjunction. 
 What barbarian Ingomar's first caresses were to Parthenia, 
 so this palace is to the observer. Surely this celebrated 
 place where emperors dwell cannot be classed among the 
 ornaments of St. Petersburg. It is a sight precisely as the 
 straggling Gostini Dvor is a sight, and that is all. Stagings 
 were crawling up its sides, and an army of artisans were 
 employed within repairing the ceilings and walls, and add- 
 ing to the gorgeous frescos. Admission I could not ob- 
 tain, and, disappointed, I turned away from that treasure- 
 house of jewels, vases, and exquisite adornments, — for the 
 deserved criticism evoked by the outside is at once dis- 
 pelled, so they say, on entering the grand apartments where 
 undisputed taste has given to everything a charming 
 arrangement. This most longed-for excursion to the czar's 
 fairyland was denied me, but I afterwards beheld treasures 
 and wonders until my brain fairly reeled at the display. 
 
 For more than 700 feet the palace extends along the 
 Neva, and, viewed from the opposite side of the river, its 
 
WONDERFUL RUSSIA. 1 93 
 
 brown front furnishes a striking contrast to the array of 
 white marble palaces of delicate architecture that fringe its 
 banks ; but the Winter Palace is always prominent from its 
 size and sturdiness. The front view, looking from the 
 square, makes the building very low, but this unpleasant 
 feature is scarcely noticeable from the river-side owing to 
 the difference of elevation. Many regiments are quartered 
 within its generous walls, and batteries, cavalry, and fire- 
 men mingle in extraordinary confusion. A small city could 
 be comfortably entertained without encroaching on the 
 sacred precincts of the royal family. A little less of camp 
 and more of palace would greatly improve the neighborhood. 
 
 The honest description of things Russian may readily 
 pass for exaggerations. The unwonted magnificence and 
 massiveness of the every-day sights require large expres- 
 sions in order to set them out ; but, after all, too much 
 freedom of description is better absorbed in St. Petersburg 
 than elsewhere. It asks something of the imagination to 
 picture the growth of a desolate plain, the resort of sea 
 fowl and wild animals, into a city of marble and brick, the 
 home of an emperor and the treasury of art. Younger far 
 than many of our American cities, the magic wand has 
 conjured a metropolis from the waves, and made it the 
 capital of an empire whose greatness is known to the utmost 
 corners of the earth. St. Petersburg is a richly bound vol- 
 ume in gold, whose pages recount the victories achieved by 
 men over hostile nature. 
 
 The history of the Winter Palace tells the story of that head- 
 strong energy that overcame all obstacles in order to accom- 
 plish its ends, taking human life if necessary, and suppressing 
 the very terrors of the Arctic climate in its selfish ambitions. 
 Stern Nicholas was czar at the time the palace was de- 
 stroyed by fire, and no sooner had its embers cooled than 
 he gave orders to have the edifice rebuilt, and rebuilt 
 
194 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 without delay. This was a command which even the 
 piercing cold of winter had to ohey, as the end showed. It 
 was a terrific contest between man and the elements, but 
 man won. The emperor had palaces innumerable, so that 
 there was no haste so far as real necessity was concerned, 
 but the question was, not where he should lay his tyrannical 
 head, but how soon he might point to his Winter Palace. 
 On a larger plan than his predecessor used did Nicholas 
 order his palace, and the most celebrated architects of the 
 day were gathered at his council board. Nothing was al- 
 lowed to stand in the way of this imperial undertaking; 
 everything, so far as possible, was subordinated to its wants. 
 As soon as the walls were up and covered in, heat was 
 applied, and the artisans were compelled to work in the 
 deadly temperature of the halls, and at a sacrifice of hun- 
 dreds of lives. The transition from the torrid heat within 
 to the fearful cold without was too good an opportunity 
 for death to resist, and sad havoc did Fate play with the 
 children of the czar. All this misery could not call a 
 truce, and on went the unheard-of work until the royal 
 mind calmly and selfishly contemplated the last touches. 
 In less than a year this present Winter Palace rose from 
 its ashes to startle the Old World with its marvellous out- 
 lines. 
 
 To some extent the story of this building maybe accepted 
 as the history of the city, for it was by means other than 
 the natural droning, native way that so many acres of splen- 
 did edifices rose out of the night to adorn the morning. In 
 Russia the will of the master is the way of the servant: his 
 word is law, and a failure to obey brings down the direst 
 consequences. 
 
 In plain view from the long windows of the Winter Pal- 
 ace, and from all the windows that illumine the rich row 
 of palaces extending along the river bank, is a pontoon 
 
the old bridge. 195 
 
 bridge, utterly devoid of beauty or pretention of any kind, 
 a homely arrangement of timber and plank, scarcely 
 painted, and sadly abused by every storm that vexes the 
 Neva, and yet it is the entrance to another world. Like 
 the arched walk of Venice, this has a palace and a prison 
 on either hand. In no place does the heavy hand of des- 
 potism show itself as in the vision drawn from this old 
 bridge. On one side lie splendor and art ; on the other, 
 misery and despair : the tokens of peace, and the sable 
 emblems of war and suffering, peer at each other across the 
 foaming current. The pure white marble, with its ornate 
 facades, seems to take on a blush as it answers for the pres- 
 ence of the dismal pile of stone and iron at the end of the 
 pontoon. Maybe one exists because of the other. If the 
 safety of the empire rests on the foundations of the citadel 
 of Peter and Paul, then the busy world circling around is 
 strangely deceptive. The gay boulevards, the glittering 
 ball-rooms, the storehouses of jewels and paintings, the 
 schools, the enchanting gardens, and lastly the commerce 
 on the river, all contradict the thought ; but the iron hand 
 is gloved so that the stranger cannot see it. The hissing 
 ferry-boats go laden with jovial crowds, mirth and pleasure 
 go skipping past, and everything denotes freedom from care 
 and fear. 
 
 But what a history has this weather-beaten bridge. The 
 innocent Neva, which good priests bless, sometimes loses 
 its identity, and for the moment becomes the inky Styx. 
 In the still night squads of state prisoners, with harshly 
 clanking chains, are hurried across by Cossack guards : not 
 a word drops on the midnight ear as the doomed men 
 shamble across the fateful stream. The flickering lanterns 
 tied to the saddle-bows make recognition impossible, and 
 even the dim lamps swaying on the arms of the bridge 
 mock their misery ; all else is dark save the beacon ahead, 
 
196 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 which leads to the grave. But behind they hear the long 
 swell of music as it floats from the ball-rooms of the palace, 
 and many a poor soul thinks he hears the wild sobbings of 
 a wife or mother ; but on they tramp, and the white czar 
 leads his cotillon just the same. The next morning the 
 sentences are read : some remain in the dungeons of the 
 citadel, others set out on their lonely exile. 
 
 Russia lives an unnatural life ; her existence is forced, 
 and great as she is and will be, this barbaric system of gov- 
 ernment must quit the face of the civilized earth. She is 
 improving, and let us hope that her redemption is not far 
 distant. She cannot march with civilization so long as she 
 carries a knout behind her back, nor can she cultivate art 
 and torture at the same time. I crossed over the bridge, 
 and gay it was with yelling crowds and galloping droskies : 
 a regular Muscovite carnival seemed inaugurated. 
 
 The citadel, of infamous history, is heavily fortified, and 
 protected by moats deep enough to drown the city, but I 
 had no desire to pass through its threatening portals. Many 
 a cell is below the surface of the Neva, damp and deadly 
 pens where the worst political offenders expiate their mis- 
 deeds. In some gloomy nook of this huge fortress Peter 
 had that awful interview with his son, and the world shud- 
 ders to think of it even at this late day. What Peter did 
 with his own blood, later czars may certainly do with those 
 they fear or suspect. My way was not challenged by senti- 
 nel or watchman, and I followed the well worn path leading 
 to the Fortress church. 
 
 This is the oldest church in the city, though it has gone 
 through many beneficent changes since Peter worshipped 
 at its iconostas. The church is by no means shapely, the 
 form being basilican, the color dazzling white, and on one 
 end is a dome, surmounted by a smaller one, to give 
 the edifice a slight Greek relationship, while on the other 
 
THE FORTRESS CHURCH 1 97 
 
 end one of those exquisite needle spires rises upwards 
 of 400 feet, darting the sun's rays from its ducat covered 
 coat, and rescuing the church from the horrors of the com- 
 monplace. These St. Petersburg spires are so sharp that 
 they could be used as needles to sew rent clouds together 
 after a severe storm. 
 
 Whatever may be thought of the exterior of this church, 
 criticism is disarmed on entering. Bear in mind that this 
 is the mausoleum where Russia's royal family lie, where the 
 race of Romanoff repose after life's work is done. It is 
 sacred to the empire's noblest blood. I had naturally ex- 
 pected to see the usual gaudiness and cheap jewelry display 
 outdone and overdone in this valhalla, and it took my 
 breath away to see the splendid simplicity. Kings whose 
 dominion was confined to petty kingdoms now rest beneath 
 imposing monuments, and masterpieces of sculpture mark 
 the graves of small dukes and little princes, but here lie the 
 rulers of the great Russian empire without so much as an 
 inscription to tell the story. Great Peter the founder and 
 his successors — creators of nations, patrons of art, of science, 
 of learning — all ambitious beyond the common measure of 
 potentates, lie in this little church beneath pure white marble 
 sarcophagi, upon whose tops rests a plain gold cross. Each 
 like the other, death has levelled worldly distinctions and 
 banished earthly decorations. Such are the tombs of the 
 czars. Low railings mark the precincts of the dead, and 
 all about flowers and ferns revel in profusion. On one slab 
 I saw a ring ; on another the great keys of some captured 
 fortress ; but these specks on the veinless marble were not 
 common. All were left in their original simplicity, Peter as 
 well as his less distinguished neighbors. The final equality 
 is touchingly illustrated in these beautiful marble coffins, 
 where each, regardless of life's accomplishments, sleeps 
 unmarked by hatchment or trophy. 
 
198 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Hanging from the wall near Peter's grave was an image 
 purporting to be that of a baby ; but it seemed ridiculously 
 out of place, and my curiosity was excited to find out what 
 it meant. As might be expected, nobody could give me 
 any intelligible information, inasmuch as it all came in the 
 pure Russian tongue. Even gestures failed to help me out. 
 If I pointed at the dangling image, the guard immediately 
 responded by calling attention to Peter's corner, and recit- 
 ing a long story. But I failed to see the exact connection 
 between the founder of the city and the wooden doll. I 
 dared not laugh, so I meekly bowed at each period, and 
 looked greatly interested in his gargonic lecture, — at the 
 conclusion of which I crossed his palm with a few copecks, 
 and he thenceforth lost all interest in me and the effigy. I 
 afterwards learned that the image, so striking in its vest- 
 ments and gems, was intended to give the correct size of 
 the czar at the time of his birth. If that is the case, then 
 Peter must have been one of the most gigantic infants ever 
 born, for, so to speak, the bambino is a bouncer. 
 
 The interior of the church, aside from the portion occu- 
 pied by the dead, is not so fascinating, though an endeavor 
 has been made to make it so. It partakes somewhat of the 
 flavor of war, as faded battle-flags droop from the bur- 
 nished pillars, and guns and swords adorn the sides, and all 
 day handsome officers of the guard and solemn sentinels 
 keep their watch. Sight-seers abound, and the curious 
 soldier in his long coat idly moves from grave to grave, 
 staring at everything like a schoolboy, but without the 
 schoolboy's comprehension. The devout gather about the 
 altar-rails, carrying in their hands lighted tapers, and from 
 behind the iconostas is heard the low moan as of a chant. 
 Louder it sounds and nearer, and the audience creep closer 
 to the shrine ; then the fretted portals are thrown apart, dis- 
 closing a dazzling scene of priest and deacon, surrounded by 
 
STATUE OF PETER THE GREAT 1 99 
 
 flaring candles whose smoke curls and floats grotesquely 
 about the celebrants. 
 
 Prone upon the pavement, with hair falling over their 
 foreheads, the worshippers keep bowing and reciting the 
 ritual as the glittering procession emerges from the incense 
 and smoke and takes its place on the space in front of the 
 pictured altar ; and then the service begins. I did not 
 understand it ; but theatrical it certainly was as priest 
 after priest, carrying sacred symbols, chanted and disap- 
 peared only to come back again changed in vestments. 
 All the time the superb chanting went on, filling the edifice 
 with marvellous music, now subdued, now swelling in 
 volume until the aisles could hold no more, then dropping 
 into soft whispers only to be caught up and drowned in the 
 raging sea of music that followed. These magnificent 
 orations of song burst forth from the cloudy recesses behind 
 the golden screen, and finally died away leaving naught but 
 imaginary harmonies faintly echoing among the tombs and 
 the shrubbery. 
 
 When storm-clouds gather over the empire, and the com- 
 ing of the dawn seems uncertain, the statue of Peter the Great 
 becomes impressive and almost instinct with life. Only a few 
 steps from the Winter Palace and the magnificent edifices 
 dedicated to war, this famous statue is outlined against the 
 northern horizon, massive in design and eloquent in con- 
 ception. In the midst of the dangers that threaten his 
 country the old ruler dashes upon the turbulent scene as if 
 to awe his people into submission and order. Never was 
 there a statue that portrayed more faithfully the character- 
 istics of its subject than this. It is the embodiment of 
 strength, power, and courage. Every line tends to bring 
 this idea before the mind. There is no foiling away from 
 the study ; it maintains its consistency throughout. Peter is 
 not represented as a circus-rider nor as a peasant, nor is he 
 
200 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 put forth as a gentlemanly warrior on a prancing, double- 
 curbed steed, content to lift his three-cornered hat to the 
 admiring throng. As I understand Peter, this represents 
 him to the very life. The work was boldly designed ; but 
 the study was a bold one, and called for more than the 
 conventional in sculpture. The pedestal of rough rock 
 bearing the horse and rider commands wonder from its 
 great size. It must have been the colossus of the fields, or 
 the corner-stone of a mighty mountain, before it was 
 dragged from its hiding-place and transported to the capital 
 to serve as a part of the huge work then in the studio. The 
 engineers in charge of the removal encountered many ob- 
 stacles in their work ; but they overcame them, and at last 
 the monster reached its final resting-place. It is 43 feet 
 long, 21 wide, and at its front end 23 feet high. From this 
 point the rock gradually slopes downward, adding greatly 
 to the effect. All this weighs more than a thousand tons, 
 and apparently not a pound has been lost through the 
 agency of hammers. The stout iron railing enclosing the 
 statue alone protects it from the incursions of the vandals, 
 who chip ofT specimens wherever they can, whether it be 
 the. marbles of the Sistine Chapel or the rugged face of old 
 Gibraltar. One good season of free pillage would do more 
 irreparable damage than a century of flood and tempest. 
 It is impossible to conceive how a nicely chiselled base, 
 square or round, or in any shape, could have accomplished 
 the result as perfectly as this uncarved and unpolished rock 
 has done. Anything else would have made the statue as 
 commonplace as equestrian statues generally are, besides 
 giving a grotesque energy to the pose of both horse and 
 man. The intention was to show Peter just as he lived ; 
 and nothing could be more to the purpose than to represent 
 him dashing to the very brink of a precipice in his ambi- 
 tion to excel his rivals. A small horse on a big pedestal 
 
STATUE OF PETER THE GREAT. 201 
 
 might charm some people, but not the Petersburgers ; — 
 they never do up their heroes by halves ; and so they ordered 
 Peter to be cast in a most generous mould — such a one 
 as would make the world marvel and gape with astonish- 
 ment. Like the city itself, the figure of its founder is made 
 on a large scale, and the endeavor did not become a failure. 
 In reproducing the old warrior, some liberties had to be 
 taken with the original measurements by adding a few feet 
 to the six he possessed, and to carry out the proportion the 
 Ukraine steed became magnified into a London brewery- 
 horse, and stands seventeen feet in his shoes. 
 
 But in spite of these studies in magnification, the space 
 in which the statue stands is so vast, no building being 
 near it, that one fails to get a true idea of the great size it 
 presents. The steed dashes up the sloping rock, pausing 
 almost in mid air as on the verge of some unseen precipice, 
 and, trembling violently, as the swollen veins and rolling 
 eyes denote, impatiently awaits the rein of his master. 
 Under his hind feet a wounded snake squirms and twists in 
 its struggle to escape the death-dealing hoofs ; but precisely 
 what this all means is not clear, though it may have some 
 reference to domestic concerns — ancient Nihilists, perhaps, 
 who were wont to disturb old Peter with their schemes and 
 plots just as now they make Alexander nervous. Peter is 
 clad in the loose and flowing costume of a Muscovite 
 prince ; — one hand grasps the reins ; the other is stretched 
 out as if in the act of calling down a benediction upon his 
 people. His strong and leonine face is clearly defined, for 
 his head is uncovered. He disdains stirrups, and with a 
 tiger-skin for his saddle the resolute czar calmly contem- 
 plates the magnificent city spread out before him. The 
 inscription tells us that the statue was placed there in 1782 
 by Catherine II, but it does not relate how diligently Fal- 
 conet worked and studied to perfect his masterpiece ; how 
 9* 
 
202 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 he coaxed a Russian general, famous for horsemanship, to 
 dash up an artificial hill so that he might catch the move- 
 ment of every muscle ; nor do the golden letters hint how- 
 pretty Marie Collet modelled the horse's head, and did it so 
 faultlessly that her master made her his wife. These trivial 
 affairs of life are not told, but they belong to the history of 
 the masterpiece, and add, maybe, to its charms. 
 
 Not far from this statue is another, and the contrast is 
 striking, for Paul is set on the orthodox pedestal, while he 
 and his horse are adorned with the latest style of trappings, 
 as if both were about to set out on a journey. Paul's little 
 head is wrapped in laurel leaves, and in his hand he bran- 
 dishes the conventional sceptre. The horse looks fright- 
 ened, and his eyes betray an apprehension lest a bullet 
 pierce his hide — a very natural feeling when we bear in 
 mind that crazy Paul was a frequent target for the assassins 
 of his day. 
 
 Old General Suwaroff comes in for a statue, and a fairly 
 good one it is ; but he deserves the best work of artists, for 
 he was a second Peter in many ways, and in his day no 
 man was worshipped more sincerely by the people and the 
 army. He had the fortune to live in turbulent times, 
 and fought battles with both Frederick the Great and 
 Napoleon. Few generals could say as much, and yet his 
 fighting did not end there : he met the Swedes, the Turks, 
 and the Poles, and vanquished them one after another. I 
 gazed at his monument with considerable interest, for Su- 
 waroff was the last of the old Muscovite warriors, — soldiers 
 who despised strategy in its highest uses, and who, counting 
 on the valor and prowess of their soldiers, rushed into battle 
 without fear. This field-marshal was the connecting link 
 between the warfare of Attila and the science of Moltke. 
 Such a historical character merits enduring bronze. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 
 
 THE broad, blue waters of the Neva determined the 
 foundation of St. Petersburg. Nothing else could have 
 influenced that wilful mind to cast his lot so far towards the 
 Arctic circle ; but he needed an outlet to the ocean, and the 
 Neva furnished one. But aside from their commercial value, 
 the waters of Russia are held sacred in the eyes of the faithful, 
 and each year the cross is plunged into the frozen streams 
 and the blessing invoked. In St. Petersburg this ceremony 
 partakes of pageantry, and calls forth the court, the high 
 clergy, and no end of spectators, who blacken the silent 
 river as they stand by and witness the solemn consecration. 
 The Neva is held as sacred as Alph of mythology, and on 
 its banks, near the Grand Duke's palace, a lofty arch is 
 erected to the honor of the river, and surmounting it are 
 fiery bronze horses hitched to a chariot. 
 
 Spanning the Neva a short distance below the palaces 
 is a handsome iron bridge, where crowds are passing every 
 hour of the day from early dawn till nightfall ; and erect- 
 ed in its very middle, so that traffic is divided into two 
 lines, is the gaudiest shrine in the city. It is small, of 
 course, but its architecture if enlarged might serve for a 
 first-class church, where hundreds might enter and receive 
 consolation ; but this is merely a Lilliputian affair. Its 
 front is glass, so that all the outside world may look in and 
 
204 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 behold the life-sized figure of the Virgin, in trailing robes 
 and jewelled crown, serenely posing amid a conflagration 
 of candles. In and out of this pyrotechnic shrine a grim - 
 visaged priest flitted, kept busy every moment lest some 
 sudden draught of wind blow out the candles, and thus 
 leave the blessed lady shivering and alone. The exigencies 
 of the case require this incongruous combination of lady 
 and holy father, but that does not lessen its seeming extrav- 
 agance. Before this brilliant scene all traffic pauses, and 
 goes through crossings and genuflections. Drosky-men are 
 a little more devout than teamsters, especially when em- 
 ployed by the hour, and there seems to be no end to their 
 devotions ; but all this has nothing to do with their subse- 
 quent overcharges. Porters, servants, and lowly beggars 
 stop here and set their souls aright before the glittering 
 lamps : even the man of affairs and the clanking sabres do 
 not pass by without a recognition. 
 
 The wayside shrines of Savoy and Italy are romantic, 
 but nothing in comparison with these in the frozen North, 
 where outward manifestation in things religious goes to its 
 full extent ; and, judging from what I saw, the end is still 
 far off. Icons are found everywhere, in public places as 
 well as in private houses, and the devout never go past 
 without removing their hats and mumbling prayers. The 
 icon is always placed in a corner where its observant eye 
 sees all that is going on, and escape is impossible. Cafes 
 as well as churches have icons, and many a toper prefaces 
 his tipple with a thought of the little print hanging in 
 the corner : not to do so would be sacrilege. In the 
 midst of song and revel these sacred talismans are never 
 made the butt of unbecoming comment, nor are they con- 
 sidered to be out of place because they are surrounded by 
 the irreverent. 
 
 These Byzantine paintings are made in all sizes, from the 
 
ICONS. 205 
 
 great clumsy church icon down to the tiny thing that re- 
 minded me of a queen of diamonds pinned against the 
 wall ; but their efficacy does not depend upon their size ! 
 Icons cannot be mistaken for anything else, but these life- 
 like figures representing the Mother depend much on their 
 situation and arrangement in order to be wholly effective. 
 I once saw a most ludicrous scene in the Moscow railway 
 station, which quite took my breath away. 
 
 An Englishman whom I had met during my stay in the 
 city, whose peculiarities and complainings had encouraged 
 me to quit his company, was among the passengers waiting 
 for the platform doors to open ; and as they did not move 
 immediately he grew exceedingly nervous, and beguiled the 
 time in strutting up and down the spacious hall, as if bent 
 on having revenge. I suspected he was preparing a letter 
 to the " Times," that vent for British grumblers, but he 
 was doing nothing of the kind ; no, he marched up to the 
 woman in the corner and asked for a bottle of Bass ! His 
 luminous female in the corner was none other than the 
 Sacred Virgin, but I must confess the surroundings were 
 not altogether ecclesiastical. In front was a railing or bal- 
 ustrade, and on each side were swinging lamps and the 
 customary paraphernalia of the lunch-counter. The mis- 
 take was comical enough, but it was natural after all, 
 for who would look for a life-sized Mary in the place gen- 
 erally occupied by a Hebe? It does startle one to come 
 face to face with these celestial effigies without any warn- 
 ing. 
 
 The lower classes, of course, pay much attention to these 
 icons, and rarely miss the chance of bowing reverently ; but 
 this devotion loses some of its flavor as we go up in the 
 social scale — at least the observance was less marked and 
 the salutation more mental. It has been found bv travellers 
 that the continuous hum of prayer is no reason for throw- 
 
2C>6 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ing away keys and safeguards, for, powerful as the icons are 
 to succor the faithful, they are weak indeed to protect the 
 goods and chattels of the stranger. 
 
 From the number of servants found in the hotels and 
 private residences, I inferred that wages must be low, and 
 that the supply exceeds the demand. They are as thick 
 as convenience will admit of, and are generally dressed in 
 the prevailing national style, — dark waistcoats, red shirts, 
 and blooming trousers, which go out of sight after reaching 
 the knee, and become high boots. Their hair is carefully 
 combed, but they delight to see it float over their shoulders, 
 just as the priests do, although these domestics take care 
 that their locks shall not get ragged. As soon as there are 
 any indications of that kind their ends are cut oft' square, 
 very much as the Shakers manage their back hair, and then 
 the Russian waiter is a sight to behold. Their linguistic 
 attainments are generally restricted to the vernacular, but 
 they are surprisingly quick to conjecture your wants, even 
 though you accost them in English. I came to like the 
 Russian man-servant and his peaceable ways : he always 
 seemed willing to do his work, and did it with every indi- 
 cation of pleasure. 
 
 Outside the doors of the town — and St. Petersburg is 
 modelled after the French flat system of dwellings — the 
 house porters are met with, and they present a study in 
 economy. I believe this specimen of servant is indigenous 
 to Russia — to St. Petersburg alone — for he is half servitor, 
 half policeman, and, though paid by the proprietor, is 
 hand and glove with the city police, and keeps them in 
 full communication with all that takes place within the 
 limits of his stewardship. He is a sort of government spy 
 armed with a broom, with which he sweeps away the gath- 
 ering snowflakes in front of his employer's door. Out in 
 the night they stay, even in the bitterest hours of winter, 
 
THE DVORNICK. 20"J 
 
 squatted on the pavement or seated in low chairs, where, 
 with open eyes and pricked-up ears, they keep their cheer- 
 less vigil. 
 
 If any stranger seeks admission, he must answer the 
 interrogatories of the dvornick before he is admitted, and 
 after dark not even the proprietor himself may pass without 
 careful scrutiny and a subsequent notification to the police. 
 In spite of their watchfulness and that of the gendarmerie, 
 the Nihilists find no difficulty in posting their revolutionary 
 edicts on house walls and public portals ; but the exact way 
 in which this is done does not appear, nor does that bolder 
 operation of leaving a few in the czar's bed-chamber. These 
 sidewalk servants are expensive, and people complain, 
 but their cries avail naught, and the living sheep-skin re- 
 maineth. 
 
 In darker times these peaceable men used to form an 
 alliance with the police, for the mutual purpose of increas- 
 ing their worldly possessions by waylaying belated citizens 
 and appropriating their portable wealth ; but those interest- 
 ing days have gone, and the dvornick must now give his 
 entire attention to watching the premises he is assigned to. 
 Wonderful, indeed, is his physical endurance, for the cold- 
 est nights find him at his post. He braves the inexorable 
 rigors of that Arctic winter, and rarely gets frozen. 
 
 In making calls, these fellows open the outer door for 
 you — a courtesy that demands a slight acknowledgment in 
 the way of copecks : they are something to him and very 
 little to you, and the sight of the coppers brings before his 
 imagination clouds of steaming vodki. Vodki and tobacco 
 are within his reach, and he means to regale himself with 
 an hour or two of such luxuries, in spite of fortune's hard 
 lot. 
 
 Luxuries are luxuries in St. Petersburg, as in any other 
 city, only a little more so, but hotel expenses do not rise 
 
208 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 much above the European average. Cab fares are exceed- 
 ingly low ; and as Dickens used to gauge his hotels by the 
 cruet, so I found a city might safely be judged by the cab 
 tariffs. In the Russian capital there is no tariff: it all comes 
 down to negotiation. You must bargain with the drosky- 
 man — everybody does it; and Russia is preeminently the 
 country of bargains. Oftentimes the transactions are very 
 amusing ; but this sensation wears off after a while, and 
 degenerates into a question of shrewdness and arithmetic. 
 Too great an admixture of this " Jewing" makes travelling 
 very disagreeable, but where it has long since become part 
 and parcel of a nation's peculiarities, one does not mind it 
 so much. I have often hailed a cab and asked the price to 
 such a point. The pious expression that came over the face 
 of this vostchik as he answered, " A rouble," quite captured 
 me, for how he had the courage to name such a figure was 
 astonishing. Fancy asking a hackman in Boston the fare 
 from the Art Gallery to the Parker House, and have him 
 say five dollars ! I indignantly turned my back and walked 
 away. He followed along the curb, and began to lower 
 his figures, but I was deaf to his coaxings until he said 
 fifty copecks ; then I got in and was whirled wildly to my 
 destination. I found the drivers exceedingly good-natured, 
 but we could not converse ; and often, when completely at 
 a loss how to direct them, I used to go into shops and ask 
 one of the clerks — and clerks are likely to speak some civil- 
 ized language — if he would have the kindness to tell my 
 drosky king just what I wanted. The clerks were always 
 pleased to do this favor, and with this circumlocution I 
 managed to get about. I had learned the necessary nu- 
 merals and the customary stock phrases, so I could touch 
 the natives in some spot, but when it came to intelligible 
 conversation, I was completely at sea. 
 
 Travelling in Russia is not so expensive as is commonly 
 
THE HERMITAGE. 209 
 
 supposed, and aside from the marvellous slowness of the 
 trains, I found the railway accommodations superior to any 
 country in Europe I never had the pleasure of bobbing 
 round on Turkish or Grecian iron, but from the Neva to 
 the Mediterranean I am tolerably well acquainted with the 
 methods of conveyance. The fares — first-class of course, 
 and they give you a bed in Russian cars without extra 
 charge — compare favorably with other countries. I paid 
 $14 from Petersburg to Moscow, 400 miles ; $10 from Ber- 
 lin to Cologne, second-class, 300 miles; $21 from Paris to 
 Marseilles, 500 miles ; and $20 from Biarretz to Paris, 
 which is about the same distance. 
 
 The Hermitage, adjoining the Winter Palace on the east, 
 was intended by Empress Catherine to be a retreat, or out- 
 of-the-way abode, where she might find rest and seclusion 
 from perplexing cares ; and during her life its purpose 
 was faithfully carried out. Since her death the beautiful edi- 
 fice has been made the fine repository of one of the grandest 
 picture galleries in Europe. Its exterior is a vast improve- 
 ment on the gaudiness of the czar's straggling palace, and 
 is useful in calling one's attention to what is beautiful and 
 what is not. The elegant staircase, a stately one, too, sur- 
 passes the magnificent escalier in the king's palace at Na- 
 ples, although it may be a trifle more stiff in its design. 
 Superb as is that on the shores of the Mediterranean, this on 
 the banks of the cold Neva is a masterpiece of sculpture 
 and elegance. 
 
 Arrangement has been most thoroughly studied, and 
 everything has been done to make the interior of the gal- 
 lery so perfect that the priceless collections beneath its 
 ceilings may not be confused. Marvellously good taste is 
 everywhere displayed, and where embellishment has been 
 tried, its results do not call forth criticism. Experiments 
 and liberties have had but little to do with this place, and 
 
2IO AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the national striving after effect is wanting ; contrasts in 
 decoration, if not altogether harmonious, are not glaring ; 
 and, best of all, the admission of light is excellently man- 
 aged. The eye is never wearied by piles or cords of paint- 
 ings "skyed" or "floored" so that they cannot be inter- 
 preted : each gallery conforms to its own admirable system. 
 I visited this treasure-house many times, and it fascinated 
 me more and more at each visit, for the opportunities to 
 study the works are unexcelled. Good judges are in doubt 
 how to place the Hermitage collection, but the current 
 opinion is that there is very little to choose between it and 
 Dresden or Madrid. I could not help thinking that all 
 these gems are the work of foreigners, scarcely one of whom 
 ever saw a Russian in his life ; and here is this strange 
 empire capturing the master canvases of all Europe. The 
 gallery is growing rapidly, and when I saw it there were 
 upwards of 6,000 paintings and sketches. Russian palettes 
 have not produced any wonders as yet, but they will come 
 in time, although how far national they will be is a ques- 
 tion. I did see one picture by a well known Russian, rep- 
 resenting twenty nymphs gracefully floating down from the 
 sunset sky, hand in hand, as if to bathe in a dark and 
 gloomy stream, choked with sedges and glistening lilies. 
 The rare loveliness of the faces, and the exquisite shapeli- 
 ness of the figures, made a study as pretty as Murillo's 
 cupids, and I did not wonder that this canvas was sur- 
 rounded by copyists. 
 
 It is not alone in paintings that the Hermitage is re- 
 nowned, for thickly scattered throughout the elegant halls 
 are vases and statuary and jewels, that add their lustre to 
 the rich frescos and the heavy silken walls. Alexander 
 will be under the necessity of conquering new and unheard- 
 of principalities and khanates if he wishes to procure any 
 more wonderful gems for his imperial gallery. 
 
RELICS OF PETER THE GREAT 211 
 
 A half day in this wonderland takes one through avenues 
 lined with urns of porphyry and vases of malachite, and 
 overarched with candelabras of violet, jasper, and rhodizite. 
 Lapis lazuli, syenite, and aventurine met one at every 
 glance of the eye — but this is common in this land ; and yet, 
 while there may be greater riches gathered beneath one 
 roof, I am certain the Hermitage display will remain most 
 vivid after having once been seen. Tables of ivory with 
 ingenious mosaics for tops, clocks whose voices do not 
 penetrate the elaborate casings, mantels and furniture of 
 most ornate designing, and countless other rare and beauti- 
 ful objects, lead the mind captive in this temple of art. 
 
 At the end of the gallery, shut off by elegant doors 
 inlaid with pearl, is the gallery of Peter the Great, where 
 I saw much to interest and amuse me, for here are col- 
 lected all the tools and implements used by the great czar. 
 It is a sort of exhibition inventory of all his personal prop- 
 erty, even down to his snuff-boxes. Among this assortment 
 of " personal effects" were the presents he received during 
 his lifetime, — jewels, swords, saddles, knives, canes ; in fact, 
 everything known to gift-takers may be seen in this room. 
 
 Peter must have been possessed of a sort of Yankee 
 invention, which led him to dabble in mechanical experi- 
 ment ; — he even manufactured boots and hats and cartridge- 
 boxes, the latter rude contrivances for keeping powder dry, 
 but still he carved them out, and is entitled to all the credit. 
 His essay at the trade of St. Crispin resulted in a pair of 
 big and heavy top boots, with a foot as large as a modern 
 coal-hod and legs like sewer-pipes. There is also on exhi- 
 bition a complete suit of clothes, buttons included, made by 
 this imperial dabbler-in-chief; and this, too, denotes a meas- 
 urement gigantic enough to delight the proprietor of a dime 
 museum. With his turning-lathe Peter created many use- 
 ful articles, which are spread out in abundance on all sides. 
 
212 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 But the most characteristic object in the exhibition was an 
 iron walking-stick, formidable both in length and diameter, 
 with a knob at one end. This he called his dubina (I be- 
 lieve that is the name), and in the course of his useful 
 career he laid it over the backs of half his acquaintances. 
 It must have been a powerful reminder to the owners of 
 the backs, but Peter cared not ; he would have his way, 
 and the dubina helped him to get it. What a sight it would 
 be at this day to see the czar sally forth armed with this 
 crowbar companion, and begin laying it around him ! 
 
 Peter possessed rings enough for the hands of the whole 
 imperial household, — literally there were quarts of them, 
 and some of them were cheap enough for a country fair, — 
 and yet history does not tell us that he was addicted to fop- 
 pishness in any undue degree. They were offerings from 
 his royal brothers and sisters throughout the hemisphere. 
 Snuff-boxes of delicate workmanship, and snuff-boxes en- 
 gemmed with brilliants from the four quarters of the world, 
 lay strewn about the mahogany cases, each appropriately 
 labelled in Russian and French, so that their former history 
 might be read. The war-horse — and a mammoth beast was 
 he — that Peter rode in the battle of Pultowa is stuffed, and 
 stands prominent among the curiosities of the place. He 
 is saddled and equipped, and is presumably reproduced in 
 strict accordance with truth. If there were many such 
 chargers on " dread Pultoua's day," I do not wonder the 
 illustrious Swede was vanquished. 
 
 The strangest object in the collection is the case of sur- 
 gical instruments used by Peter when he courted Escula- 
 pius, and tapped a man suffering from dropsy. After this 
 I was prepared to come across any conceivable article, 
 nor was I doomed to disappointment, for in the course of 
 my examination my eyes fell on many strange things. It 
 is surprising how he ever found time to make all these 
 
CAFE SCENES. 2*3 
 
 objects. Besides his ambition to excel as an artisan, he 
 took to boat building with a vengeance, and turned out 
 many a craft, to the great wonderment of his people. 
 Strange, colossal, and incomprehensible was old Peter the 
 Great. 
 
 Across the Neva, a mile perhaps from the imperial Her- 
 mitage, stands the mean and humble cottage or hut once 
 occupied by Peter ; but aside from the associations con- 
 nected with him who used to sit on its porch and dream of 
 empire and grandeur, it does not possess the keen interest 
 of the gallery I have just mentioned. But the crumbling, 
 tottering house is in the last stages of decay, and, as for that 
 matter, has been for a century ; but it is one of the sacred 
 shrines of Russia, and is guarded and protected with relig- 
 ious care. 
 
 On the same side of the Neva is the Academy of Fine 
 Arts, containing a superb collection of paintings, among 
 which are such modern masters as Gerome, Meisonnier, 
 Muncaczy, Fortuny, and their contemporaries. Gerome's 
 "Morning after the Masquerade" was penned in by eager 
 copyists : a score I should say were conveying to their easels 
 the fearfully realistic touches of the work, while the older 
 masters were utterly neglected. Perhaps these young men 
 and women saw more to admire in the harlequin and the 
 Indian, and in the crimson spots on the snow, than in the 
 ecstatic features of the saints. 
 
 They say St. Petersburg does not boast of a distinctively 
 Russian cafe or traktir — a statement I am unable to vouch 
 for ; but in my wanderings I did not find a real French cafe, 
 with the true and gentle flavor so inseparable. I frequented 
 several so-called cafes, but they were neither French nor 
 purely Russian. Smoking was indulged in by everybody — 
 cigarettes and cigars were burning at a furious rate ; and 
 that beverage of beverages, hot tea, disappeared as if 
 
214 AALEStJND TO TETUAN. 
 
 helped by magic. The capacity of the tea-drinker will 
 always remain a mystery to me. I can understand how a 
 man may, by long practice, gauge himself for six or seven 
 glasses ; but when this is only the earnest of his total indul- 
 gence, I am at a loss to account for so gastronomic a phe- 
 nomenon. Two friends seat themselves at a table and go 
 at it, and not a soul remarks anything unusual. Tea is 
 served in glasses, and steaming at that ; but its caloric or 
 cauterizing properties do not delay its speedy consumption, 
 for down it goes after a series of gulps, and not so much as 
 a tear starts forth to tell the story. Whiskey or vodki was 
 not neglected by the crowd, and that, too, went down 
 without incurring any criticism. A goblet of hot vodki 
 across the room has almost precisely the same color as 
 tea — that pale straw color ; so when I wanted to be sure 
 what a customer was taking, I looked at his nose rather 
 than at his smoking tipple. But the cafe presents a queer 
 picture as the stranger gazes at it. All types of mankind 
 are present — the high, the low, the middle. Intelligence 
 and culture, brute force and ignorance, all sit round the 
 tables, and have their evening's enjoyment — troopers, non- 
 commissioned and privates, working-men, priests who sit 
 in the corner and scowl, and well dressed tradesmen. Then 
 in marches a handsome officer. He is king of the cafe for 
 the time being, and men pay him homage accordingly. 
 His spiked helmet, long, rich cape, and trailing sword 
 bespeak his rank. The troopers rise, salute, and remain 
 standing until he takes his seat : then the hum goes on as 
 before, and the strangely assorted assemblage play dom- 
 inoes, and chat, and smoke, and guzzle tea. 
 
 The shop windows, small museums in themselves, along 
 the Nevski are as fine as the temptations on the rue de la 
 Paix or in Regent street ; and from the crowds of patrons 
 going in and out, their success must be quite as remarkable 
 
sr. Isaacs. 215 
 
 as their wares are beautiful. The jewellers' windows, 
 where the delicate filagree work is displayed — and the 
 Russians excel in that art — are very popular with the sight- 
 seers and the tourists, who stand wistfully by absorbed in 
 the fascination of Queen Mab's gold and silver offerings. 
 St. Petersburg is the magicians' box of Europe, full of sur- 
 prises and wonders, not one natural among them all ; but 
 this does not lessen the pleasure of looking at them. The 
 transition is quick, and, like fading photographs, the prince 
 changes into the beggar, with bent form and hideous mien, 
 and he in turn becomes a princely creature superbly 
 clothed : then the splendid facades along the quay take on 
 rough, unhewn blocks of darksome granite, and mirth gives 
 way to misery, the tall spires of gold melt into armed men, 
 and, in a flash, these are lost sight of behind the generous 
 shades of some grand church. Surely Pandora must have 
 loaned her wondrous casket, for how else could a city like 
 this snow-bound capital have sprung up in its splendor and 
 strength, and still be many years away from its second cen- 
 tennial? 
 
 Over against my bed-room windows stood St. Isaac's, 
 the grandest church in Russia. No sooner have the silver 
 rays appeared in the eastern heavens than out rings the 
 matin ; and a purer peal never called the faithful to their 
 devotions. How unlike the mad clanging of those Italian 
 tongues whose chaos ruled the air and vexed the earth. A 
 variety of sweet sounds fall upon the ear, from the deep 
 and heavy stroke, followed by its vibrating echo, to the 
 quick, sharp blow that dies on the instant. The souls of the 
 departed, so it is said, are accompanied to the better world 
 by the melody of the bells — a beautiful sentiment truly, 
 and one deserving of success if the power of sweet music 
 can do it; for this half merry and hilarious jubilee of bells, 
 with now and then a warning thud, ought surely to open 
 
2l6 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the via allegro of the gods to the footsteps of the pilgrim. 
 The belfry chimes are rung out by watchmen stationed 
 there, whose duty it is to keep the people appraised of the 
 sacred hours ; and they do it by means of cords attached to 
 the tongues, for Russian bells are never turned. These 
 they pull with an ultra Russian energy, jumping about like 
 the fabled monkey on the hot pavement, and half tearing 
 themselves to shreds in their laudable endeavors to earn 
 their stipend. 
 
 St. Isaac's is the masterpiece of the Emperor Nicholas. 
 He began it, and spared nothing in the way of expense and 
 labor. He put absolute power in the hands of his architect, 
 and produced one of the grandest cathedrals in Europe. 
 For forty years the work went on, little by little, until the 
 whole was completed in 1S58, and solemnly dedicated in 
 the presence of an admiring multitude. This celebrated 
 edifice is rectangular, the greatest length being 500 feet 
 from east to west, the other measurement, from north to 
 south, being about half the number of feet, and it rests on 
 a forest of piles, the area of which is upwards of 68,000 
 square feet. This gives St. Isaac's the title of bigness, if 
 nothing more. Four Corinthian porticos, very much like 
 the Pantheon, upheld by massive monoliths of red granite 
 sixty feet high and seven in diameter, give the church a 
 dignity unsurpassed in this kind of architecture. At each 
 corner of the roof is a square bell-tower with great mon- 
 oliths to support it, while the vast dome is upheld by an- 
 other set of these great pillars. The interior of the church 
 receives its daylight through the windows in the dome, and 
 everybody is at first surprised to see the flood that comes 
 from so limited a source. It is like overflowing a broad 
 intervale from babbling brooks. 
 
 My guide told me to go back into the street and take a 
 look at the windows. I did so ; and after a careful obser- 
 
ST. ISAAC'S. 217 
 
 vation I could have taken my oath that there was some mis- 
 take about it; but, small as I made them, they are each 
 thirty feet in height. This well illustrates the immensity of 
 the building, which seemed to me the best illustration of 
 magnificent magnification I had ever seen. In some re- 
 spects it is simple, in others too ornate ; but after all it pre- 
 sents regular outlines and angles, and is entirely free from 
 the hobgoblin, minaret combinations of the East. And yet, 
 after so much labor, the end is not in sight, and very likely 
 never will be, owing to the treacherous foundations, which 
 are constantly weakening from the effects of the severe cli- 
 mate, and require the attention of the builders all the time. 
 When I saw it, the eastern end was wholly hidden by stag- 
 ings and mattings, made necessary by savage cracks seam- 
 ing its sides and threatening destruction. 
 
 St. Isaac's is fortunate in having no rivals to challenge 
 attention. It is solitary in its majesty, being the sole occu- 
 pant of a large square, thus affording a grand opportunity 
 to study its charms at a becoming distance. Perhaps this 
 isolation tends to dwarf its true grandeur, and to give a 
 wrong impression ; but when one gets accustomed to it 
 this fades away, leaving the porticos and the dome in their 
 true relations. The unsurpassed brilliancy of the interior 
 fairly dazzles the mind and sets the imagination on fire, for 
 a more prodigious collection of ecclesiastical elaboration 
 is hard to imagine. Priceless gems and precious metals, 
 such as Cortez in his maddest dreams never saw, are 
 bespattered and plastered about, and glittering mosaics rep- 
 resenting the past hierarchy of the church are embedded in 
 the marble walls. It is forbidden to worship graven im- 
 ages, so the devout ply all their ingenuity in producing 
 paintings which answer the purpose just as well, and at the 
 same time save them from excommunication ; so every 
 church is plentifully embellished with the strangest coun- 
 10 
 
2l8 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 tenances ever gazed upon. It does not matter how poverty- 
 stricken the parish may be, its one church is sure to be 
 resplendent with icons and religious daubs. St. Peters- 
 burg, however, does not run to the Byzantine in its 
 churches ; it is of a newer fashion, and leaves the old style 
 to Moscow and Kasan ; but in the matter of wealth dis- 
 played, the capital goes ahead of them all. Take St. Isaac's, 
 for example. It is full of malachite, lapis lazuli, crystal, 
 and marble made in columns and pilasters. The expanse 
 of walls is thickly covered with massive mosaics which 
 seem like paintings from the old masters, while gorgeous 
 beyond everything is the iconostas, of pure gold. Even in 
 the daytime it is illuminated with flaring lamps, for its 
 precious faces were never intended to be hidden in gloom, 
 and around its great form priests pass and repass bearing 
 emblems and vestments. For a small fee they will open 
 the silver gate in front, and let you pass in. Money will do 
 anything in Russia. The holy countenances imprisoned in 
 the screen of gold did not change their vacant stare as I 
 dropped a piece of silver into the priest's hand and entered 
 the holy of holies. There I inspected the chains and 
 crosses and relics to my satisfaction, and at the same 
 moment the service, or some part of it, was going on out- 
 side. 
 
 But it is the evening service that brings out the glory of 
 St. Isaac's. These splendid cathedral masses are like grand 
 epics, and the impression is ineffaceable. The altar is 
 blazing with its illuminations, so that the remotest angles 
 receive its flickering light. The worshippers one after an- 
 other emerge from the shadows, bearing in their hands long 
 tapers which they place in the great candelabrum, for no 
 one is too poor to do this act of love, and, falling upon their 
 knees, they pray and bow their heads to the cold marbles ; 
 then arising, go to the picture of the virgin encased in 
 
CATHEDRALS. 11<) 
 
 its emblazoned frame, and press their lips to it in ecstasy 
 of devotion. I have often seen them burst into tears, and 
 linger near the sacred picture until pushed aside by the 
 surging crowd. The monotonous and plaintive chant (it 
 always sounded to me as a literal repetition of words) rolls 
 out upon the glimmering scene, and is echoed back from 
 the lofty aisles ; and so this twilight service goes on, accom- 
 panied by the unmusical but religious chink of the copecks 
 as they drop from the hands of the faithful into the alms- 
 boxes. The effects of light and shadow are very startling, 
 as every object loses its identity and becomes transformed. 
 The priests stand out like silhouettes on the golden screen. 
 The massive candelabra are spread out into silver trees 
 whose branches seem laden with flashing rubies, and the 
 great columns and mosaics are dimly outlined or lost 
 entirely in the deepening shades ; and even the men and 
 women as they prostrate themselves, or move slowly about 
 the church, are weirdly commingled, becoming for the 
 moment like the clouds of a gathering tempest. 
 
 Next to St. Isaac's, the Cathedral of the Lady of Kazan is 
 the esj:>ecial pride of the city, but rather as a museum than 
 as a church. The vain attempt to reproduce the famous 
 colonnade of St. Peter's in front of this edifice is very 
 comical, but may be pardoned because of the grotesque 
 failure. The interior is dedicated to national trophies, and 
 the columns are decorated with fortress keys, draw-bridge 
 chains, and drooping standards. The valor of the Rus- 
 sians is here attested by the ragged flags of former foes : 
 among them France has reluctantly contributed several 
 eagles to the Kazan collection. The propitiatory offerings 
 are about equally divided between God and Mars, though 
 the latter appears to receive the most attention. The icon- 
 ostas is, as might be supposed, a masterpiece of art, and of 
 great value ; but the real sight of the church is the frame 
 
220 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 enclosing the ancient painting of the Madonna. The wild- 
 est confusion in gems has taken possession of the golden 
 frame or case, and a more dazzling display cannot be found 
 in all the empire. The aged guide who had me in charge 
 kissed its precious rim as often as he came to a breathing 
 place in his narrative. His osculatory exercise afforded 
 him an opportunity to get a new hold on his garrulousness, 
 and he ran on like a clock. 
 
 The cathedral of "Our Lady" is but a few steps from 
 that busy hive of trade and barter the " Strangers' Court" 
 or bazar, thus affording the lying merchants a chance to 
 purge their souls without going out of their way. The im- 
 mense building, with its thousand cells or booths, is the 
 ultra condensed life and morals of Russia — a seething, end- 
 less endeavor to overreach and cheat ; and woe to the unso- 
 phisticated wight who purchases. Beyond is the Fontanka 
 canal, whose granite quays contain the palaces of the aris- 
 tocracy and the sumptuous mansions of the rich — tasteful 
 edifices, I thought, and evidently constructed with a view 
 to winter pleasures. Canals are necessities in St. Peters- 
 burg, and the city is pretty well divided by these boun- 
 daries ; but owing to the negligence of the authorities, they 
 are used in winter for the deposit of refuse, and so become 
 good breeders of fevers in the springtime. 
 
 The drives out of town are attractive, and so are the sum- 
 mer gardens; but the nights came too quickly at the time 
 I was there, and this pleasure was denied. The parks are 
 destined to be ornamental and beautiful, but they now want 
 the refining touches that age alone can give. They are like 
 everything in St. Petersburg — too big ; but bigness is the 
 city's characteristic, and even to-day the government still 
 feels the limitless ambition of its founder to keep on build- 
 ing for the future. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MOSCOW. 
 
 THE train from St. Petersburg to Moscow was made up 
 of cars divided into the different classes, the first-class 
 being quite suggestive of our Pullman in many of its details, 
 although the system of berths is entirely different. The cars 
 were not separated into three compartments, but formed 
 only one. The seats are placed up and down each side, 
 having an aisle between — an arrangement decidedly Ameri- 
 can, and one having a good deal of merit besides. At night 
 the seats are drawn out so as to make a comfortable bed, 
 and the man must be a wretched traveller indeed who does 
 not find them soothing. For an all-night journey these 
 improvised beds come in very nicely. 
 
 Like all Russian gatherings, the passengers were polyglot- 
 tous, but the majority spoke Russian, being business men on 
 their way south. Smoking was permitted everywhere, and 
 it went hard with the man that detested tobacco, for before 
 we had ridden a dozen versts he must have undergone an 
 expiation for a lifetime of sins. Cigarettes were in every 
 mouth, including my own, and we puffed far into the night. 
 In the ladies' compartment the free use of the weed was not 
 interdicted, and although I do not understand that Russian 
 ladies are habitual smokers, I have seen some among them 
 who rivalled the men. On this train we had a few, but no 
 notice was taken of the mild indulgence, and they inhaled 
 the smoke or curved it into graceful rings with great un- 
 concern. 
 
 In going from Moscow to Warsaw a Polish lady and her 
 
222 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 son occupied a seat across the aisle from mine, and she 
 smoked incessantly. In conversing with her I found she 
 had a terrible attack of Russophobia, and the more excited 
 the subject made her, the swifter curled the smoke and the 
 faster went the cigarettes. But she must have been an 
 exception to the rule, for such feminine volcanoes are not 
 seen every day. 
 
 The utter indifference to hurrying matters is soon made 
 manifest to the tourist, but there is no help for it. The 
 station bell gave its timely warning, and the locomotive 
 answered back in a succession of business-like whistles, but 
 nobody paid the slightest attention to this double call. Up 
 and down the windy platform moved the passengers, se- 
 rene and unconcerned. The train did not show signs of 
 activity for ten or twenty minutes after the time announced 
 for departure, so I concluded they were only trying the 
 signals to find how they worked. On the whole, I thought 
 well of the {Dlan, a s it always reassured me while taking 
 lunch. 
 
 The car was constructed with a view to cold weather : 
 the windows and doors were double, for no nation on the 
 face of the earth loves calefaction for calefaction's sake bet- 
 ter than the Russians ; and yet in addition to these safe- 
 guards the passengers all came provided with blankets and 
 wraps, and, last but not least, with small pillows. The 
 pillow phase rather interested me, as it was decidedly novel 
 in my travelling experience. Now, if this had been in 
 Spain, my pillowless condition would have been noticed at 
 once, and every Spaniard would have offered me his own, 
 but here the natives are more English in their ways, and I 
 had no chance to refuse the courtesy of any man's head 
 cushion. Among the assortment bundled out were a few 
 real plump pillows, tempting to behold, but most of them 
 were soiled and blackened with long usage. In the lot were 
 
RUSSIAN CARS. 223 
 
 a few that had a remote connection with the wash-tub, but 
 they were not novices on their first journey ; and, besides, 
 there were pillows improvised for the occasion, such as 
 coats rolled up to serve the same purpose. I saw one man 
 take off his coat, and, rolling it into a small bundle, care- 
 fully draw a pillow-case over it, and then proceed to 
 look about for congratulations ; but he looked in vain, and 
 the prevalent surmises were correct when shaking it out 
 the next morning its creases reminded one of a map of the 
 Ganges and its water-sheds. My elbow neighbor blew 
 up a small rubber cushion, and in a moment was snoring 
 to such an extent that it was almost impossible to tell 
 whether the train was moving or not. I believe I never had 
 so many room-mates in my life as on that journey. 
 
 The guard wore a uniform consisting of a jaunty cap, 
 long caftan or gown and flowing red sash, and a shirt of 
 elaborate ruffles, quite surpassing his European brethren in 
 the splendor of his apparel. He kindly furnished me with 
 one of the stock pillows, and I slumbered regardless of its 
 previous uses. We glided on through the night over the 
 most level road imaginable, scarcely broken by even a curve, 
 so straight is the line from the capital to the Kremlin, for 
 old Nicholas insisted that this should be purely a military 
 highway without reference to anything else. As a result, 
 towns only a few miles away have been left in the cold, 
 and Novgorood itself, an old and important city, is found on 
 what might be called a side-track, in order that the main 
 line might not swerve to the right or to the left. 
 
 It is not easy to understand the economy that prefers to 
 call new towns into existence, leaving the established ones 
 to perish and decay, for up to this time this policy has failed 
 utterly to create anything better than signal-boxes and lone- 
 some station-houses. The anomaly presented by a railroad 
 purposely avoiding large villages and flourishing towns i§ 
 
224 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 certainly striking, and the explanation that it was done to 
 facilitate military transportation does not lessen the empe- 
 ror's want of common-sense, when one sees prosperous 
 towns, miles away, which could have been reached by a 
 slight change in the engineer's plan. But this is the policy of 
 the railroad, and adds another peg to Russian peculiarities. 
 
 At Tvar the train stopped for some time, and the sleepy 
 and smoked passengers turned out to get something warm. 
 The Volga rushes into Tvar, and one may take a steamer 
 there and go to the Caspian sea, for this stream is Russia's 
 greatest highway, and floats upon its current thousands of 
 craft, both steam and sail. Evidently the town does not 
 depend on the railroad, with its sparing accommodations, 
 for its livelihood, but rather upon the water communication, 
 which is one of the largest and most valuable in Europe. 
 This is the silver band that connects the Chang and Eng of 
 Russia in Europe and Asia, and in case of an Eastern war 
 would prove of inestimable importance to military opera- 
 tions. From Tvar to Moscow the intervening landscape is 
 wholly uninteresting : treeless and level, with scarcely an 
 evidence of fertility anywhere, though here and there were 
 slight indications of cultivation and thrift. 
 
 The next morning the spires and minarets of Moscow 
 peeped over the horizon leagues away, burnished and 
 sparkling in the warm sun like those I had seen when out 
 in the Gulf of Finland, only these Moscow steeples were 
 many fold as numerous, and on nearer approach I found 
 them many fold as strange. The surrounding country had 
 become softened and beautified by neat farms with tilled 
 acres, and a refreshing breath of human life and activity. 
 The strange Cossack capital unfolded spires, towers, and 
 cupolas so rapidly that the sky seemed bristling with bayo- 
 nets and spears and clubs, while above every other object 
 stood the Kremlin with its turrets and lofty vanes. St. 
 
ARRIVAL IN MOSCOW. 225 
 
 Basil was readily recognized by its motley collection of 
 peaks and domes, and formed a proper setting to this serio- 
 comic display. 
 
 I remember my surprise on landing from the train at 
 Venice to see the canal crowded with gondolas, black and 
 funereal as hearses, and my first thought was that a noted 
 corpse must be expected ; but this solemn reflection was at 
 once dispelled when the jovial gondoliers solicited my pa- 
 tronage : so in Moscow these thoughts came back to me 
 when I saw the station-yard overflowing with droskies. 
 But it was no mortuary gathering. The instant the pas- 
 sengers appeared the tumult began, and bedlam and Babel 
 in closest combination could only whisper in comparison, 
 for this throng of long-haired cabmen sent up a mighty 
 voice in their greed to capture custom ; but fortunately their 
 vocal efforts were practised in the open air, where the con- 
 stant shrieking of locomotives softened the din. Finally I 
 secured one, or rather he secured me, and, lashing his horse, 
 dashed me like mad over the roughest pavement in Chris- 
 tendom, where the stones seem to have been laid on the 
 plan of the rocky seashore, with frequent spaces between 
 them. When this race had been kept up for several blocks, 
 I thought it about an even chance whether I should go to 
 pieces first or whether the carriage would, but we pulled 
 through safely, and I reached the hotel with a thankful but 
 aching soul. The rate of speed did not attract wayside 
 comment: not even the easily persuaded day laborer looked 
 at our flight, so I concluded there was no city ordinance 
 against the sport. A few hours later a slow-moving funeral 
 procession went past, and everybody paused to view it. 
 
 The Hotel Billo, though small, sets one of the best tables 
 
 in Europe, and the guest who puts his trust in its Swiss 
 
 landlord will leave reluctantly. Shortly after arriving, I 
 
 went forth to see the sights, to get the lay of the land, and 
 
 10* 
 
226 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 to map out the city in such a way that I might the more 
 easily explore it. My first impressions were in one sense 
 disappointing, for, instead of the ancient houses, the extra- 
 ordinary architecture, and semi-oriental zigzaggery pictured 
 in my imagination, I found Moscow a strong mixture of 
 old and new, bad and good. But I might have known that 
 in a progressive country like this one generation is not con- 
 tent to build upon the models left by its predecessor ; so 
 when a new building had to go up, its dress was entirely 
 cosmopolitan, and would pass in London or Paris without 
 remark. Thus I saw at once all the vagaries of old times 
 grinning in the face of iron fronts and plate glass windows, 
 the pagoda set alongside a splendid facade of marble, the 
 bulbous dome gazing angrily at the symmetrical outlines of 
 some Arch de Ti'iomphe, or the medieval bazar with its 
 cells looking across the street at some vast magazine, some 
 exotic Bo?i Marche. 
 
 The dav niay not be far distant when the stranger will 
 have to pore over antique prints in order to see the town 
 as it appeared during the latter years of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury, for improvements are tearing down the old landmarks 
 without showing the least conscience about it, and in some 
 quarters the boulevards and the shops are faithful reproduc- 
 tions of the ever-to-be-imitated Paris. The sacred Kremlin 
 hill, and its quaint edifices, will endure as long as Moscow 
 graces the earth. These are the empire's wards, and her 
 strong arm must guard them from ambitious spoilers ; as 
 for the rest of the city, time will tell her story as she pleases. 
 Moscow is a constant contradiction to one's fanc}^, and often 
 have I been surprised to find wide and fashionable streets 
 suddenly intersected by crooked lanes or alleys such as 
 criss-crossed Seville might indignantly spurn. The city 
 would not sutler if it were likened to a great crazy-quilt, for 
 it is patched with every conceivable color and design. 
 
THE GOSTINNOI-DVOR. 22>J 
 
 I had read that the Kremlin was enclosed by high walls, 
 and as I strolled along in the direction of the ancient fort- 
 ress I came face to face with a glistening whitewashed wall, 
 which made me think the Kremlin was at hand. Directly 
 ahead was a wide gateway, through which a busy crowd 
 kept going and coming ; but the people seemed bent on 
 business, and business, I thought, had nothing to do with 
 sacred precincts. In that swarming mass men carried bas- 
 kets and packages, and were laden with all sorts of mer- 
 chandise, as if they were going to market ; and a few 
 minutes later I learned that that was precisely what they 
 were doing. The droskies rattled past and disappeared 
 beyond the portals, and not a wayside icon raised its hand 
 in reproach, nor did these modest faces show any pleasure 
 when a brace of pale priests hurried past. My topography 
 was wrong ; this was not the entrance to the Kremlin. It 
 ushered me into a great ant-hill of traffic, the greatest on 
 the earth's broad surface. There were innumerable shops, 
 most of which bade fair to tumble down on their owners' 
 heads, and there was that great collection of merchants 
 huddled together in the Gostinnoi-Dvor, for such it was, 
 exposing for sale the shawls of India, and the rat-traps of 
 the United States. 
 
 This mammoth bazar, or stationary fair, covers many 
 acres, and is a dilapidated specimen of architecture, evident- 
 ly in its last years of existence, but from morning till night 
 Moscow pours through the narrow passages and does its 
 shopping. The trade in icons is very brisk, and the deal- 
 ers vie with each other in presenting the fine points of 
 their sacred wares ; but it is all done in a friendly spirit, 
 without exciting angry passions. So far as efficacy is con- 
 cerned, a little icon is as good as a large one, although 
 there is a wide difference in their adornments. I bought a 
 serviceable one, with lamp and chain complete, for twenty 
 
228 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 roubles, and was cheated no doubt, but I have never re- 
 gretted my bargain. This icon business attains large pro- 
 portions in some parts of Russia, employing nearly all the 
 inhabitants of the district, who turn them out by thousands. 
 I presume the workmen laugh and chuckle like the Roman 
 augurs, as they paint the faces and fit on the embossed cov- 
 erings. There were so many people on the sidewalks and 
 in the streets about the bazar that it seemed like a holiday. 
 On inquiry I learned that this was about the daily aver- 
 age ; but Moscow is a great city. The strange counte- 
 nances reminded me of an ethnological museum, for it is 
 safe to say that nearly every province in Russia and the 
 East sent its choicest representatives to this theatre of com- 
 merce. 
 
 Moscow is the permanent base of the southern trading, 
 while Nishni Novgorood is its temporary show-case, and in 
 both summer and winter there is no cessation in commer- 
 cial dickerings. War does not arrest the current of the 
 bazar, nor does peace cause much of an overflow. The 
 government compels all gold and silver articles to be plainly 
 marked, whereby a spurious teaspoon or pitcher may be at 
 once detected ; and yet Russia, as many think, is thorough- 
 ly barbarous and uncivilized. 
 
 Some icons are covered with precious metals, and it is no 
 unusual sight to see a purchaser turn the frame in every 
 direction in his search for the stamp, and then to see the 
 cunning shop-keeper put on his spectacles and assist in the 
 hunt is positively refreshing. These tradesmen of the 
 bazar are saturnine and sanctimonious, but behind it all 
 lurks a shrewdness of dealing that few possess ; and yet 
 their cunning is not disproportionate to their needs, espe- 
 cially when they come in contact with the Jews and the 
 Armenians. 
 
 They tell a story about the devil's cheating first a Greek 
 
THE PLACE OF SKULLS. 229 
 
 and then a Jew, but when he tried conclusions with a Rus- 
 sian he got completely floored. Very likely this laudatory 
 legend has a grain of truth in its structure, for from a very 
 slight intercourse with those people I was made to feel 
 that it was not wholly moonshine. 
 
 Passing the gauntlet of the Gostinnoi Dvor, I came upon 
 the place of skulls — the Golgotha of old Moscow. It is a 
 large open square close by the Kremlin walls, where in for- 
 mer times prisoners used to be put to death ; but this san- 
 guinary entertainment was given up years ago, leaving the 
 place to the drosky-men and the multitude of itinerant mor- 
 tality who collect there to pounce upon the passers-by. 
 Like public squares all over the world, it is the lounging- 
 place of idlers, and the gossiping-mart, likewise the forum, 
 where comminatory utterances on men and things find will- 
 ing ears, and where the news of the day is talked threadbare. 
 At one end of the place of skulls, St. Basil, the grotesquest 
 church under the sun, keeps guard with its corkscrew min- 
 arets and fantastic peaks and domes, adding a real barbaric 
 splendor to the scene, while at the other end a new brick 
 and iron museum, dignified in its simplicity, seems like a 
 wanderer in this Muscovite neighborhood. John the Ter- 
 rible convulses the world with his outlandish church. 
 Alexander charms it with his beautiful museum. It is not 
 many hundred feet from the portals of John's crazy sanctu- 
 ary to the doors of its modern neighbor, but measured by 
 years it becomes many generations, so widely separated is 
 their history. Verily, the household gods and penates are 
 being moved into new quarters, and Moscow, like Rome, 
 will soon be masquerading in the latest styles. 
 
 Following the pedestrians and the carriages, I entered the 
 Kremlin by the St. Nicholas gate, and then looked about me. 
 The great bell and the Ivan tower were at once recognized, 
 but all else was strange. The Kremlin was associated in my 
 
230 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 mind with Thebes and Carthage, or, perhaps, the Persepolis 
 — a scene of crumbling walls, blackened turrets, and splendid 
 destruction, a regal chaos sad to gaze upon ; but my imagina- 
 tion had carried me far away from shore, and an unexpected 
 reality dealt my image a shattering blow. The Kremlin is 
 a vast enclosure full of monasteric palaces, churches, and 
 government buildings, and is kept in the best possible con- 
 dition. The ravages of time do not show themselves, and 
 decay finds no lodgment there. Once a fortress, thrice 
 overthrown and thrice rebuilt, the Kremlin no longer fears 
 the cross-bow or the battle-axe ; the savage war-songs have 
 long since melted into the melodious chant of the monks, 
 and the fagot has given way to the sacred taper. It is really 
 the corner-stone of the nation both in a political and a 
 religious point of view, and is justly dear to every Russian, 
 for it is both the rock of their church and the birthplace of 
 their empire. Insurrections have surged within its con- 
 fines and bloody hands have desecrated its shrines, cruel 
 tortures have been practised and terrible vengeance meted 
 out, but the Kremlin has never lost its sacred significance 
 in the eyes of the people. Enemies from far-off lands have 
 threatened its existence ; but neither the chief of the Tartars 
 nor the emperor of the French could suck its life-blood. 
 One by one its assailants have been beaten back and dis- 
 comfited, leaving the heart of Russia unwounded. Im- 
 placable foes and relentless age cannot disturb the peace 
 and security of the Kremlin. 
 
 Five massive tunnels or gates open the Kremlin to the 
 outer world, and through them a constant stream of human- 
 ity, on foot and on wheels, takes its way. By mutual consent 
 the gates called The St. Nicholas and The Redeemer are 
 the most sacred, being the only gates to which any unusual 
 attribute of sanctity has been attached. Napoleon entered 
 by the former, as the overhanging inscription tells us, and 
 
RELIGION. 231 
 
 then ungratefully tried to blow it up with gunpowder ; but 
 the saints above kept an eye on the ignited train, and no 
 sooner had it reached the portal than it sputtered and siz- 
 zled, and at last went entirely out, leaving the gate un- 
 harmed. Not even the jejune and silly wooden saint en- 
 niched above suffered the slightest scorching. They tell 
 this story with great gusto ; even the parrot, called the valet 
 de place, brightens up under the exhilaration of this mira- 
 cle, and rattles off his well learned narrative with evident 
 pleasure. 
 
 The Redeemer gate is so exceedingly sensitive that no 
 one may pass unless with uncovered head, and I followed 
 the custom uncomplainingly. Only the very lowly stopped 
 to pay any respects to the saint — the hurrying crowd merely 
 threw a half military salute and passed on. 
 
 Church and state are so intimately connected in Russia 
 that it is no easy matter to discern the line that divides 
 them ; for even on days allotted to public rejoicings, the 
 clergy as well as the soldiery appear to take a hand, and 
 they carry out their part with a dash and show that would 
 do justice to a brigade of the line. Chasubles and mitres 
 are as thick on such occasions as waving plumes and dang- 
 ling medals, and after two or three public parades, I con- 
 cluded that they engrossed quite as much attention. While 
 the common people on such occasions admire the soldiery, 
 they adore the holy fathers. The trying colds of successive 
 winters have not yet had the power to freeze out or deaden 
 the sentiment and fervor that always overcomes the crowd 
 whenever a battered Redeemer or some sacred relic is borne 
 through the streets. 
 
 The men are as devout as the women, and attend divine 
 service with unfailing regularity, turning out in good num- 
 bers, thus furnishing a psychological feature somewhat rare. 
 In Roman Catholic countries this masculine humility was 
 
232 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 not so marked, but in Russia it was not unusual to find the 
 church floor generously filled with rough, ill-visaged peas- 
 ants, who entered into the devotions with the zeal of neo- 
 phytes. It may be that this is due to the practice among 
 Greek churches of compelling their worshippers to remain 
 on their feet during the entire service — a somewhat weary- 
 ing process if well attended to. The women may have 
 found this too much for their strength, and so compelled 
 their lords and masters to represent them by proxy. 
 
 The church does not tolerate upholstery ; not even inex- 
 pensive chairs are permitted to choke the aisle, and the 
 most modest attempts towards comfort are ruthlessly inter- 
 dicted. All must remain standing if they would be truly 
 pious. No chance is afforded for displaying the latest bon- 
 nets, for the interior has no broad aisles through which 
 fashion may trip its way. The whole architectural arrange- 
 ment demands and receives the most rigid simplicity of 
 demeanor. In Russia pious marplots cannot get mad with 
 their clergymen and sell their pews. The church is a sort 
 of ecclesiastical commune, where any man is as good as his 
 neighbor — an institution where one may worship God with- 
 out frills and furbelows and costly garments. 
 
 I was so fortunate as to behold one of the great politico- 
 religious pageants of the calendar, the occasion being an 
 anniversary of the czar's coronation. It took place the first 
 Sunday after I reached Moscow, and a more exquisite day 
 never dawned. The air was full of kisses from the Orient, 
 soft and sweet, and the sky of delicate blue arched grace- 
 fully over the domes and bright green roofs. 
 
 Early in the morning the town was awakened by strains 
 of music as the military bands paraded the streets ; but the 
 principal ceremony was the service of praise at the Church 
 of the Assumption, whither all Moscow and the adjacent 
 province seemed moving. The crowd was great, but the 
 
A CEREMONY. 233 
 
 Kremlin is a vast park capable of holding half the popula- 
 tion of the town, so the jamming and trampling process 
 was absent ; but about the cathedral men and women were 
 actually wedged in so closely that I thought suffocation 
 could not be avoided. Showily uniformed horsemen 
 patrolled the open space leading to the door, and it was 
 kept clear only by their most strenuous activity. Dis- 
 tinguished personages with splendid equipages appeared 
 upon the scene. Officers of high rank followed ; then a 
 loud hurrah announced the coming of the governor, who 
 rolled along the Via Sacra in a lumbering state coach 
 drawn by four white horses that impatiently pawed the 
 pavement and champed their silver bits as the picturesque 
 old general alighted. In an instant his glittering staff 
 surrounded him, and all marched into the church. This 
 incident created a furor of excitement, which lasted some 
 minutes, and was only relieved by the rumble of the 
 batteries which were to take part in the demonstration. 
 The moment the crowd caught sight of this powerful attrac- 
 tion, it gradually withdrew from the shadows of the church 
 and followed the cannon over the brow of the hill ; for of all 
 sounds the cannon furnishes the loudest, and it pleases the 
 native tympanum the most. As for myself, I watched an 
 opportunity to get into the church, and success attended 
 me, for when the privileged mortals had passed the barrier, 
 I pressed closely behind and quietly slipped a piece of sil- 
 ver in the hand of the man on guard, and there was no 
 hindrance to my admission. My money was actually mis- 
 placed, for, once inside, surprise overcame me at seeing 
 samples of the same crowd that surged about the doorway, 
 the peasants and the middle classes standing beside the gen- 
 erals, and the high officials of the garrison pressing closely 
 to the skirts of Dolgorouki and his resplendent retinue 
 who stood directly in front of the altar. 
 
234 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 The Cathedral of the Assumption is the most historic 
 church in the empire, and conforms to the true Byzantine 
 architecture — square in form, with a great dome in the cen- 
 tre, and four smaller domes, one at each corner. The inte- 
 rior is elaborately embellished on both walls and columns, 
 and far up in the uncertain light of the dome the surface 
 has the appearance of beaten gold, which, reflecting the sun- 
 shine, illumines the sombre nave with the sparkle of dia- 
 monds. The iconostas extends across the end, and, being 
 lofty, is frequently mistaken for the walls. In this church lie 
 generations of patriarchs and metropolitans, and here, before 
 the screen of gold, the czars are crowned. The long and 
 illustrious line from John the Terrible to the last czar have 
 each received their crowns in this place, and here they have 
 been anointed with the sacred oil. This venerable cathe- 
 dral is not adapted to show off the possibilities of lavish dec- 
 orations. It does not possess the grandeur of St. Isaac's ; 
 but these material shortcomings do not make the least differ- 
 ence : the same extraordinary bedazzlement is profusely dis- 
 played, and the interior is one of the curiosity shops of Rus- 
 sia. While the restricted space does not make the interior 
 exactly insignificant, it is certainly overloaded with mosaics 
 and metals that might better have been left out. Wealth has 
 run mad in its endeavor to become a votary of this shrine ; 
 and when one seriously indulges in the contemplation of 
 the sights spread around on pillar and post, on the great 
 screen, and on the vaulted ceiling, it is readily seen how 
 large a part glittering trivialities play in the Greek church. 
 The dreams cherished by the early fathers have been pre- 
 served in letters of gold so that coming generations might 
 know them. Four massive columns, dotted with pictures 
 in mosaics, support the roof and its five domes, and each 
 dome is like a great inverted cup lined with gold leaf. 
 Pictures are worked in everywhere, and the entire cata- 
 
CATHEDRAL OF THE ASSUMPTION. 235 
 
 logue of saints has a place within this cathedral. The 
 faces all partook of the same artistic origin, conforming 
 very noticeably to the sterile conceptions of the artist with- 
 out much reference to the physiognomy of the saints them- 
 selves. An expression of disappointment or sadness over- 
 spread the countenances, and I do not recollect to have seen 
 a single jolly face among the lot ; none of those good- 
 natured Romish mouths and eyes showed forth in all that 
 rich array of holy champions. They looked so much alike 
 that there was no difference between a big saint and a little 
 one. Truly the genius who conceived these sacred features 
 with their black configurations did not yield to the weak- 
 ness of experiment, nor did he allow his fancy to coquette 
 with his ideas of propriety. The liberties so dear to our 
 modern artists were not taken advantage of by him. There 
 is no posing ; no benediction plays upon the bloodless lips. 
 The eye does not kindle with imagination, nor do the vest- 
 ments indicate the sacerdotal rank. Unless there is a 
 directory of the thousand faces, I do not believe a living 
 soul could tell the names of a dozen of these former poten- 
 tates of Moscow, for drops of water are not more alike 
 than are the religious pictures in the Assumption. The 
 iconostos contains full-length paintings of two hundred 
 worthies, and, like everything else, bedazzles the looker-on 
 with its glowing riches ; but this is the most famous one 
 in Moscow, and seems to have been the rallying point for 
 all the ambitious artists of Russia, for it certainly is a mag- 
 nificent piece of ecclesiastical furniture. In the dancing 
 lights the visages on the great screen underwent constant 
 changes, as if suddenly brought back to life, and gave to 
 the field of gold a startling vividness. 
 
 Without any heraldic announcement the services com- 
 menced by deep chants from the hidden choir, rich and full 
 as an organ's voice ; then the priest intoned their responses 
 
236 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 in measured rhythm, and so the melodious strains came 
 floating out upon the air. The service was of a thanksgiv- 
 ing nature, and more elaborate, perhaps, on that account ; 
 at all events, the presence of the governor gave it the seal of 
 imperialism ; but close beside me were lowly men clad in 
 sheepskins, with long, uncombed hair and other palpable 
 indications of humble origin, but there they stood, and did 
 their part in honoring the coronation of the white czar. 
 Ladies in rustling silks stood near, also their poor sisters, 
 all entering into the devotions of the morning without a 
 thought of caste or rank. Frequently the people tried 
 to get down on their knees, but they were packed too 
 closely for that, so the genuflection had to be given up ; 
 but in the limited space reserved for the distinguished 
 mortals, Dolgorouki and his officers went through all 
 the forms known to the rubric — kneeling, bowing, and 
 crossing themselves with tiresome regularity ; but it must 
 have been a difficult exercise, bound up as they were in 
 stripes of stiff' lace, and encumbered with unyielding scab- 
 bards that clanked in and out of time regardless of the 
 meter. Even the clergy were restricted in their move- 
 ments, and at each inclination of the head their vestments 
 creaked and rustled until I feared they would split open. 
 In the course of the service the aged Metropolitan came in 
 from a side entrance, where he was received by quite a del- 
 egation of priests who escorted him to a robing-room 
 whence he soon after appeared clad in the full regalia of 
 his office, and wearing the mitre of an archbishop. His 
 appearance on the scene incited the singers to greater exer- 
 tions, and the church was filled with a swelling torrent of 
 praise. The congregation began making the sign of the 
 cross, and bow r ing to the venerable patriarch, who lifted up 
 his arms and blessed them in return. Priests approached 
 the old man and were kissed on the cheek for their horn- 
 
THE METROPOLITAN. 237 
 
 age, and for several minutes there was quite an interchange 
 of these tender expressions. But Russian society is one big 
 kiss all the time. Men kiss men with far more sincerity, and 
 possibly with as much sweetness, as women kiss each other, 
 and still this effeminate method of mutual greeting occa- 
 sions neither surprise nor comment. At length the Metro- 
 politan was assisted to his place near the vice-regal group, 
 where he preached a short sermon, which had the effect of 
 stirring up considerable enthusiasm among the faithful, 
 moving many to tears, while all seemed touched by his 
 eloquence. I did not understand a single word, but it had 
 the merit of brevity, and at its conclusion the clergy, form- 
 ing in a procession, marched up and down through the 
 crowd, the loud chants died away, the chasubles and the 
 crosses had disappeared, and the mass was over. In a few 
 minutes the church was deserted by its children ; their 
 duty had been performed, and they gave the rest of the day 
 to the outside world. I lingered behind in the incense, 
 joining the band of sight-seers who pushed forward to get 
 a nearer view of the splendid emblems and apparel used in 
 the morning's ceremony. 
 
 The Church of the Assumption is to the Greek church 
 what St. Peters is to the Romish, and within its square 
 enclosure some of the most precious relics of Christianity 
 are preserved. They showed us nails from the Cross, 
 a veritable garment once worn by the Saviour, and also a 
 small painting of the Virgin of Vladimir, said to be the 
 work of St. Luke. I had not been a stranger to these 
 identical sights in other cities of Europe — in Rome, in 
 Naples, and in northern Italy — consequently my curiosity- 
 lacked its wonted edge ; but notwithstanding all this, the 
 sacristy truly interested me. Along the walls are the cas- 
 kets containing the dust and bones of Moscow's metropol- 
 silver boxes bound round with gilt bands to 
 
238 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 protect the relics from sacrilegious hands, as if such vandal- 
 ism was likely to be practised within the holy precincts. 
 
 On going out of the cathedral I chanced to get a good 
 look at the Metropolitan, attended by a score of priests and 
 deacons, who kissed him very affectionately as they assisted 
 him into his coach. Then the people pressed forward to 
 receive his benediction, but the matter-of-fact driver, who 
 evidently wanted his dinner, yelled to his four-in-hand, and 
 the apostolic conveyance rolled towards the gates of the 
 palace followed by the enthusiastic crowd. 
 
 Prince Dolgorouki appeared soon after, and he, too, 
 came in for his share of attention and observation, though 
 how much was due to his splendid uniform could only be 
 guessed at. A gorgeously embroidered coat set off with 
 imperial orders and military dress will work wonders 
 among any populace. 
 
 As the prince and his suite clattered away and were lost 
 to view, an interval of rest settled upon the Kremlin, a sort 
 of breathing-spell, and certainly the air was warm enough 
 to call for several breathing-spells ; but it was of short dura- 
 tion, and was speedily knocked all to pieces by a rocket 
 screaming through the skv, the signal for the cannonading. 
 The gunners were stationed near the square towers that 
 break the monotony of the crenellated wall on the river side 
 of the fortress, and they kept up a furious bombardment, 
 jarring the very foundation of the Kremlin, and threatening 
 to turn the blue river Moscow upside down and lay bare 
 all its hidden secrets. The reverberation of the heavy can- 
 non set the simple peasantry wild with delight, and when 
 the great bells added their roar to the concert, the enthu- 
 siasm was unbounded. 
 
 I climbed up the winding steps into the upper gallery of 
 the tower of John the Terrible, where I had a full view 
 of the little world below, as well as a magnificent sweep 
 
THE IVAN TOWER. 239 
 
 of the distant horizon. High above the thousand churches 
 of Moscow rises this semi-barbaric tower, a whitened mon- 
 ument to the memory of one of Russia's greatest rulers, 
 which may be likened to the axis of the empire around 
 which eighty millions of people constantly revolve. It 
 has a sightly situation, standing alone, and exercising the 
 watchfulness of a venerable patriarch over his children. 
 Its yellow, turnip-shaped dome, surmounted by a golden 
 cross and chains, looms above its rivals like a giant, and 
 marks the location of the Kremlin to the traveller far out on 
 the steppes. Around its base, in admirable confusion, are 
 clustered churches, monasteries, cathedrals, palaces, and 
 more modern edifices now dedicated to the uses of the gov- 
 ernment, while at its very portal rests the great bell of 
 Moscow, tongueless and silent. 
 
 The Russians, in their dark ages, cultivated a love of 
 tumultuous noise, and began casting bells commensurate 
 with that love ; but the bells were so much heavier than 
 the strength of the existing belfries would bear, that they 
 began constructing these great towers, placing them apart 
 from the churches, and giving them a distinctive place 
 in their architecture. In all probability the monster lying 
 at the base of the Ivan tower was once swung in its galle- 
 ries, but its history goes so far into the mists of mythology 
 as to be untrustworthy ; but it is certain that for ages it has 
 never uttered a sound to rouse to ecstasy the good Chris- 
 tians of Moscow. 
 
 The tower is octagonal in form and three sections high, 
 each smaller than the one beneath, the entire height being 
 not far from 300 feet. Even the top section or stay is mas- 
 sive enough to be the base of any modern tower, and a 
 walk around its projecting gallery proves its astonishing 
 circumference. Viewed from the ground, the structure re- 
 minds one of a huge telescope with its lengths drawn out. 
 
24O AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 The first and second stories are plain, but the top story is 
 adorned by broad bands of Arabesque figures, extending 
 entirely around, and furnishing a pleasing ground to offset 
 the golden plating on the dome. This sturdy tower re- 
 ceived the iconoclastic touches of Napoleon, but willing 
 hands immediately repaired the damages, so that it presents 
 to-day its ancient form, and illustrates the resources of an am- 
 bitious czar. Ivan was a ferocious fellow, with ideas of bar- 
 baric splendor, to which he gave life by constructing all sorts 
 of bizarre memorials ; and yet, remove his fantastic archi- 
 tecture, and the picturesqueness of this old Muscovite town 
 would half fade away. The tower is thickly pierced with 
 openings, in each of which a big bell is hung, so that on state 
 occasions the whole becomes a veritable Babel of tongues. 
 
 I advise everybody to climb the stone steps until the 
 third gallery is reached, for from its platform the landscape, 
 spread out for leagues, reveals one of the most charming 
 pictures in Europe. It is not so much the setting of nature 
 as the fanciful arrangement of things material : the city 
 roofs are mostly painted green and the chimneys a staring 
 white, so that upon looking down, the peaceful features of a 
 great cemetery, clothed in thickest verdure and marked off 
 by long avenues of little marble headstones, immediately 
 suggest themselves. But many roofs and towers are painted 
 a bright scarlet, and these, interspersed with the flaming 
 ducat-covered spires, make a panorama as beautiful as a 
 dream of fairyland, which plays with the memory long after 
 the curtain of Moscow drops upon the eyes. At the base 
 of the tower is the splendid esplanade, with its grass plots 
 and its flower-fringed paths, and beyond, gliding in ser- 
 pentine grace, is the Moscow, girdling the city of fantasy 
 with a belt of amethyst, while far beyond the city's gates, like 
 dark clouds, are the Sparrow hills, from whose brow the 
 Corsican first saw the turrets and spires of the doomed city. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MOSCOW. 
 
 IT would tax the patience of a mathematician to count 
 the bells of Moscow. They say there are a thousand 
 churches in the city, and each church prides itself on its 
 bells, some having a score or more, while others content 
 their patrons with a smaller supply ; but bells are every- 
 where. A very poor parish need suffer no pangs of con- 
 science on account of its lack of metal music, for it can 
 always borrow or appropriate the loud vibrations of its 
 more fortunate neighbors, and so offer up its praise. The 
 Kremlin is a good place to study this national characteristic. 
 The experience I accumulated while there lasted a long 
 time, and even now the memory of it all comes back to 
 me with unabated force. 
 
 One day, while in the topmost gallery of the Ivan tower, 
 I was dreamily contemplating the fascinations spread out 
 below me, — the sunlight playing with the spires, the 
 quaintness of the courts and their architecture, the black 
 sea of humanity surging to and fro, and the red pyramid- 
 shaped battle towers with bright green tiles, where the 
 artillery men were pacing to and fro, — when, without 
 any premonitory signal or word, I suddenly felt the ma- 
 sonry sway and tremble as if an earthquake were plaguing 
 its mighty foundations. Then up rushed a cyclone of 
 sound, a chaos of terrific thuds and reverberations, so close- 
 ly following each other as to produce the effect of many 
 great siege guns all speaking at once. What a tempest of 
 bells ! Up rose the ocean of clangor louder and more deaf- 
 11 
 
242 AALESUND TO TETUaN. 
 
 ening, until I thought it would never lessen ; but high tide 
 came at last, and the waves began to recede. The corps 
 of bell ringers, after splitting open the ears of Moscow by 
 their unmerciful onslaught, slackened their endeavors con- 
 siderably and took life more easily. But while its fury 
 lasted the sensation was indescribable: the rocking of the 
 tower, the deafening din all around, and then the knowl- 
 edge that escape was impossible save through the sounds 
 below, gave me a sensation strong enough for a lifetime. 
 So choice a place as the upper tier was not allowed to go 
 unnoticed by the calculating native, so I was greatly re- 
 assured by having plenty of company, such as it was. But 
 my Russian friends enjoyed it immensely, and shook their 
 long hair in their transports of pleasure. They laughed, 
 and pointed down at the crowds below, who in return 
 pointed at us and envied our superb fortune. 
 
 For the true lover of chaos a place high in the tower on 
 an occasion like this was to be desired beyond all other 
 earthly things, for the uproar of so many huge bells makes 
 the atmosphere thicker than smoke. If the monstrous bells 
 had not been firmly set in their places, the historic Ivan 
 tower might have sunk into the bowels of the earth ; but the 
 tongues alone are moved, which lets the structure off with 
 only a shaking. The bell-ringer is an important factor in 
 Russian society, for he apparently holds church and state 
 at his rope's end. His duties require an activity quite out 
 of keeping with his natural inclinations, and a proneness to 
 laziness would be fraught with peril. I believe an indolent 
 bell-man would stand less chance of pardon than a sinning 
 priest, inasmuch as the people regard bells as the sacred me- 
 dium of communication between the finite and the infinite. 
 Within this bell-ridden tower two silver bells are hung, but 
 their sweet voices are ruthlessly stifled in the wild tumult, 
 as the notes of a nisfhtinsale amidst the roar of lions. 
 
BELLS. 243 
 
 Bells weighing thirty tons are common sights, attracting 
 but passing notice ; but near by, in the upper story of the ad- 
 joining monastery, hang 150,00c pounds of metal, whose great 
 tongue is only loosed by the united exertions of several 
 men. I gathered courage after a time, and, descending into 
 the maelstrom, watched the men at their work. To the 
 end of the tongue a long rope is tied, and the ringers taking 
 hold of it "walk away," as the seamen do when hoisting 
 sail, lifting the tongue to one side ; then at a signal they let 
 go, and clang goes the tongue against the opposite side of 
 the bell. The concussion is stunning, and I observed that the 
 muscular musicians protected their ears with wads of cotton. 
 However, a lifetime spent in this Babel must accustom 
 them to all mundane commotions and banish all the incon- 
 veniences of sensitiveness. No sooner had the tongue done 
 its work than they again went through the operation, giving 
 high heaven another most resounding whack, which must 
 have sent its echoes beyond the stars. 
 
 The grand consummation of bell-making may be seen 
 and studied in its resting-place at the base of the Ivan belfry, 
 and one need have no fears of its sudden outbreak, for it is 
 as silent as the Sphinx and almost as famous. This mon- 
 ster bell could call a world to prayer, but its sacred mission 
 has long since been performed, and it is now a distinguished 
 state pensioner. Nicholas, that devoted patron of massive 
 art, found it in the last stages of oblivion, half buried in the 
 earth near the spot where it now is, and his quick eye 
 speedily saw what a fine chance lay before him for surpris- 
 ing his people and enlarging his reputation ; so he called to 
 his aid the French architect of St. Isaac's, who devised a 
 granite pedestal, upon which the great bell was firmly set. 
 There for all coming time it will be, an everlasting memo- 
 rial of His Imperial Majesty, with which to excite the curi- 
 osity and wonder of his people. The very simple and very 
 
244 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 devout look upon it as something of divine origin, and 
 worship it accordingly ; but the less wise men from the 
 West regard it with far different sentiments, and treat it to 
 a cool calculation by measuring its proportions, or by taking 
 a journey around its generous circumference. This is 
 eighty feet, and its height twenty, thus making the Kolocal 
 the largest casting in the world. A large piece has been 
 broken from its side, as if by design, so that its great in- 
 terior and its thickness might be given to the public, and 
 through this aperture a man may easily walk without hit- 
 ting his hat ; but this experiment is seldom performed by 
 true Russians, as their conceptions of the interior are too 
 sacred to permit them to go in covered. Although the bell 
 is so overgrown, and in one sense ridiculous, because of its 
 uselessness, it has a graceful contour and a symmetry de- 
 cidedly remarkable. On its top reposes a massive crown 
 such as the king of the Gigantes might have worn, and 
 above it the Greek cross, while around its curving sides, 
 with the precision of a country photograph gallery, are 
 bas-reliefs of saints gazing stupidly into space, as if in- 
 spiration were to be found there ; — but this is the orthodox 
 way of delineating the faces of the early fathers, and soon 
 ceases to be comical. This bell is the Mecca where pil- 
 grims have worshipped for many generations, and yet I 
 did not learn when it ever possessed a voice : its history has 
 literally faded out and left only surmises. Even its weight 
 is not told with any certainty ; so there is nothing to pre- 
 vent any countryman of mine from exercising that preroga- 
 tive common to us all, of guessing to his heart's content. I 
 was impressed with its size by observing that it was not 
 dwarfed or made unnoticeable because of its position at the 
 very base of a tower so massive and lofty as that of John the 
 Terrible ; on the contrary, I do not recall that my mind in- 
 dulged in any comparisons of the two sights. Each is so 
 
CATHEDRAL OF ST. MICHAEL. 245 
 
 entirely great in its way that there can be no opportunity 
 for such mental exercises. 
 . Within the Kremlin churches are so numerous that but 
 little space is left for secular architecture. The churches are 
 its features, and so distinctively Byzantine are they that they 
 do not weary, but, rather, blind one with their glitter and 
 sparkle. • 
 
 One day I happened near the open door of the Cathedral 
 of St. Michael, one of the saintliest of the school, and 
 walked in, bent on adding another sanctuary to my list. 
 The servants were sweeping and putting things to rights, 
 and, enveloped in their clouds of unblessed dust, took no 
 notice of my advent, thus giving me a rare opportunity to 
 explore the interior at my leisure. The officiousness of 
 these poor janitors is terrible. They mean well, but their 
 taste may be utterly at variance with your own ; and as 
 conversation with them is out of the question, their attend- 
 ance becomes irksome. They lay hold of a bone or a piece 
 of cloth and smother it with genuine kisses, rattling oft' 
 their prayers, or trying to tell what it is, while you in the 
 meantime prefer sights more tangible and less apocryphal. 
 
 So I left my good friends to enjoy their gossip and dust, 
 and wandered about wrapt in wonder at the sights spread out 
 on every side. Gems and gold, velvet tapestries sagging 
 beneath their heavy embroidery, shields with strange mot- 
 toes, trophies wrested from the infidel, ornaments fit for gen- 
 erations of Romanoffs, icons imprisoned in gold, and other 
 rich offerings, were crammed into corners or tucked into 
 convenient spaces, so that the church might be a splendid 
 memorial to the holy man whose name it bears. But my 
 excursion among the tombs could not long continue unob- 
 served, and I finally fell into the hands of a genuine believer, 
 who approached with great respect and regaled me with a 
 long but vivacious speech in the idiom of the empire. I 
 
246 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 followed him in imagination, and pictured to myself the 
 good Michael, his life and death and subsequent translation, 
 and many other incidents connected with the saint ; and, 
 to my surprise, the man, who had evidently been a mind- 
 reader, led me to a silver sarcophagus resting on the pave- 
 ment, and repeated a long story in which there was an 
 occasional phonetic suggestion of Michael. *So then I 
 stood at the tomb of a leading saint. At this late day very 
 little remains of the famous archangel, but it frequently 
 happens that the less there is of a man the better we like 
 him. My guide set about proving this by resting his broom 
 against a burnished column, and, letting his head and shoul- 
 ders into the reliquary, actually went through a series of 
 osculatory salutes. The gloom hanging over the scene, 
 combined with the unexpectedness of the performance, 
 appalled me, and I feared my man was lost, but he came 
 out in good shape and motioned me to do likewise. I did 
 peer in, but a grave in eldest chaos conld not have been 
 blacker or more forbidding. 
 
 This cathedral seems to have been a favorite burial-place 
 so far as monarchs are concerned, and within its gloomy 
 confines repose the bodies of many dynasties. As it is no 
 longer used for sepulture, the church has become a mortu- 
 ary museum, where the morbidly inclined may feast on the 
 emblems of death without getting contaminated. Each 
 dweller in this imperial necropolis has a silver-bound sar- 
 cophagus to himself with some appropriate inscription on 
 the lid, but they are so like each other that only the student 
 or the mortomaniac cares to linger over them. 
 
 Demetrius, the son of John the Terrible, suddenly disap- 
 peared, causing the empire to seethe with excitement. Search 
 was made and inquiries set on foot, but the lost was not found. 
 Then that direful consequence which generally follows a flaw 
 in imperial genealogy burst upon Muscovy — a bitter and fear- 
 
CHURCH FESTIVALS. 247 
 
 ful war, in which everybody took one side or the other : son 
 was arrayed against father, and families knew neither ties of 
 blood nor love. But in the midst of this terrible strife a kind 
 deus evolved from his machine one of those rare miracles — 
 the lost was found, and the revolution ceased. The errant 
 Demetrius, the real heir, was brought back dead, and de- 
 posited in* this cathedral. It may be that the inhabitants of 
 Moscow, having the image and ferocity of Ivan, the father, 
 vividly before their eyes, were exceedingly rejoiced to find 
 his son in such a harmless state, and so took to worship- 
 ping his bones as those of some leading disciple. At any 
 rate there is a hole in his casket through which the faithful 
 press their lips and imprint kisses on the dry and blacken- 
 ed forehead — a diversion which was practically illustrated 
 by my guide, who again rested his broom against a pict- 
 ured column, and immersed himself in the encofrmed dark- 
 ness. 
 
 In the matter of festivals the Russian church is remark- 
 ably generous, sprinkling these holidays so plentifully over 
 the year as to afford the meanest subject a chance to disport 
 and contemplate, to mix vodki and veneration in unequal 
 parts, to make love and utter prayers, to dance and kneel, 
 or to follow the bent of his inclination wheresoever it leads. 
 For a people seething in the torments of the politically 
 damned, the efficacy of counteracting their discontent by 
 shows and ceremonies may be questioned ; but those hav- 
 ing the matter in hand do not yet see any reason for abat- 
 ing the practice, and superb pageantries continue to impress 
 the popular mind. 
 
 On coming out of my hotel one morning I found the 
 street swarming with pedestrians gayly dressed ; that is to 
 say, the women had become radiant with colors, and notice- 
 able with chains and head ornaments, while the men, still 
 uncouth, had taken little more pains to arrange their stove- 
 
248 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 pipe hats and to comb out their abundant tresses. The 
 windows and doorways were clad in a uniform becom- 
 ing the occasion, and the restless air. of the throng indicated 
 quite a show. At last the procession came, in view at the 
 end of the broad street — a rambling army of human beings, 
 shapeless and unwieldy ; but on they moved, with banners, 
 and glistening crosses, and icons in massive frames. The 
 grand notes of a chant rose above the rustling of feet and 
 the excited conversation of eager spectators, and as the 
 steady tread and solemn voices drew nearer, the crowds 
 lining the sidewalks stood with heads uncovered and bowed 
 upon their breasts, while lips moved in earnest supplication 
 and the mystic signs were made, thus converting the great 
 boulevard into an open-air sanctuary. If the saint himself 
 had been among the ranks, deeper homage could not have 
 been paid. The clergy and the choirs were but a small 
 part of the spectacle, for the long line was swelled by the 
 faithful of both sexes, whose irregular scuffling and waver- 
 ing columns proved that they were never drilled for public 
 parade, but had joined the procession as a part of their 
 devotions. The collection of banners was brilliant, many 
 being so heavy with trappings that they swayed from side 
 to side with the suggestiveness of a St. Patrick's parade late 
 in the afternoon ; but the day was warm and the load bur- 
 densome. The golden crucifixes and ecclesiastical insignia 
 waving over the heads of the people created unbounded 
 enthusiasm, but the precious painting in its engemmed case 
 capped the climax of devotion, setting the people to bow- 
 ing and crossing, and all around I listened to the loud mur- 
 mur of prayer. Even my courier joined in bending himself 
 double and performing his little ceremonies, with a seeming 
 honesty that came near taking away my breath. Truly the 
 versatility of the genus courier is marvellous. The proces- 
 sion rested at frequent intervals, and a relay of fresh arms 
 
A CHURCH PARADE. 249 
 
 seized the drooping banners ; then on it wound, accompanied 
 by the emotional crowds. The most elaborate feature was 
 a gorgeous and spacious canopy carried along by a score of 
 men in uniform, while on guard around it were priests and 
 deacons bearing in their hands the sacred vessels which 
 they occasionally raised above their heads with true theatri- 
 cal effect. Clouds of smoke hung about the canopy, and 
 the lights sent up their trembling layers of heat to mingle 
 with the hot sunshine. I did not learn the significance of 
 this vacant throne, but its rich tapestries and singing at- 
 tendants moved my curiosity to almost a Slavonic height. 
 
 Closely following came the venerable Metropolitan of 
 Moscow, the great living dignitary of the church, weighed 
 down alike by years and impedimenta of rank ; for the arch- 
 prelate was heavily uniformed with canonicals, and crowned 
 with a most oppressive mitre heavy enough for a strapping 
 dragoon, while the thermometer was in the eighties. This 
 load made the old gentleman stagger ; and everybody 
 breathed a sigh of relief, when, at the suggestion of some 
 thoughtful friend, the oppressive cloaks and head-gear 
 were taken off. A purple skull-cap did not exactly corre- 
 spond to the rest of his dress, but looks had to give way to 
 the requirements of comfort. The change had the effect of 
 brightening up the old man, and his sweet countenance 
 beamed with joy as he trudged along scattering his blessings 
 as he went. The crowd pressed forward in its eagerness to 
 touch the hem of his garments, but there was no violence. 
 Every movement was respectful and quiet. Amid clouds 
 of dust and smoke the procession moved on up the street, 
 and finally disappeared from view, leaving, however, upon 
 my mind a deep appreciation of Muscovite religious devo- 
 tion. Of course the remainder of the day was devoted to 
 such amusements as the purse and the sense of propriety of 
 
 the observants might suggest, but that they were within the 
 11* 
 
250 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 bounds of law and good order may be believed, and when 
 night came the streets resumed their wonted appearance, 
 and the weary crowds went to bed murmuring thanks for 
 their holiday. 
 
 The Kremlin, with all its sanctity, is not unmindful of 
 worldly things, for no sooner has the Nicholas gate been 
 passed than one beholds a motley collection of cannon 
 fringing the sidewalk. The cannon are relics of the past, 
 and are arranged along the esplanade in front of the arsenal 
 for much the same reason a wooden Indian and his tom- 
 ahawk are placed before tobacco shops. They serve the use- 
 ful purpose of bringing back to mind the old style of war- 
 fare, and of calling attention to their surroundings. The 
 broad pavement is covered with cannon, large and small, 
 plain and ornamental, some lying flat, others mounted on 
 carriages, but all sadly antiquated and useless. These 
 silent exclamation-points of civilization teach us history by 
 the chapter, and the Russians feel very proud of their les- 
 sons. They are legacies left by the army of Napoleon, and 
 the legatees accepted the trust in thorough earnestness, 
 even kindly permitting the imperial N to remain just as the 
 vain emperor liked to see it. Many of the guns bear appro- 
 priate inscriptions, such as La Tempete, or some highly 
 suggestive title or motto, so that the gentle Muscovite may 
 be impressed with their historical career. In the centre of 
 this collection looms up the monster cannon cast some time 
 in the 16th century, with its terrible mouth gaping to receive 
 powder and ball. Its huge barrel, not unlike a locomotive 
 boiler in size, is curiously decorated with figures of ancient 
 warriors : maybe the siege of Troy is depicted : at all events 
 its swelling sides seem alive with legions of Greeks and 
 Trojans. It is possible that this monster never lifted its 
 angry voice amid the din of battle, or did aught to turn the 
 tide of victory ; but in spite of all this, the aged gun is in 
 
THE OLD PALACE. 25 1 
 
 its way a shrine where the patriotic love to gather and in- 
 dulge in reflections. 
 
 Across the broad pavement stands the Senate House 1 — a 
 stately structure, but one whose uses are not quite clear to 
 the student of constitutional liberty. I endeavored to gain 
 admission, but was refused that privilege, so I concluded 
 the senate might be sitting in executive session for the con- 
 firmation of a batch of steppe post-masters. 
 
 Hard by the Assumption cathedral, and almost a part of 
 it, rises the uneven mass of buildings known as The Palace, 
 which together form the most interesting feature of the 
 Kremlin. The ancient part, or, rather, the original palace, 
 is a splendid illustration of that architectural embellishment 
 so popular with Ivan the Terrible and his immediate succes- 
 sors. Its angles and irregular stories must have been a source 
 of infinite pleasure to the bloodthirsty czar, for he made 
 his home there, and there he ended his miserable career. 
 The famous red staircase leading from the court-yard to the 
 hall above is at the side of the palace, and, from its promi- 
 nent position, is certain to attract attention. Like the sur- 
 roundings, the staircase is wanting in symmetry and ease, 
 but each stage is built on its own plan, and affords an inter- 
 esting sight. In order to give the gout-stricken monarchs 
 as little pain and weariness as possible, there are several 
 landings large enough to contain quite a small retinue of 
 courtiers, and over each landing rises a tower, a cupola, or 
 minarets, as odd in design as the wildest imagination could 
 devise. These landings have been the theatre where the 
 deepest tragedies have been enacted, where rivals have 
 butchered each other, and where dynasties have risen and 
 fallen. Priests have exhorted the populace from these 
 steps, and here Peter the Great, clad in his imperial robes, 
 was proclaimed czar of all the Russias. To-day the his- 
 toric staircase is disused, the empire has become greater, 
 
252 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 and its ear is no longer turned toward the venerable balus- 
 trades. 
 
 The old palace is an uninteresting structure viewed from 
 the outside, but within its walls are those quaint decorations 
 and architectural flourishes so inseparable from the age of 
 Ivan. The royal designer must have been inspired to pro- 
 duce on the banks of the Moscow a counterpart of those 
 Indian abodes sacred to the memory of Scheherezade and 
 Schahriar, for these imperial apartments are more like fan- 
 tastic dreams than sober, wide-awake studies. But Ivan 
 had an insatiable appetite for startling effects, and this 
 grotto-like retreat must have been one of his most satisfac- 
 tory studies. The interior should be used with a plural 
 application, as it is subdivided into small rooms, reminding 
 one of the caves of fable, whose walls were of richest tapes- 
 try and whose floors were of rarest mosaics. In many, the 
 ceiling had the appearance of beaten gold, and under the 
 charm of the bright sunshine it sparkled and scintillated as 
 if alive. The passages leading through the palace were 
 as winding as the paths of a maze ; but dark corners were 
 strategic points in those turbulent times, when the Rurik 
 dynasty was approaching its eleventh hour, and these local- 
 ities were often made the scene of that peculiar warfare 
 which we are accustomed to associate with the red man. 
 After all, these twists and turns give a character to the edi- 
 fice. They are interesting because they tell the story of gen- 
 erations of tyrants, and they also mark the boundaries be- 
 tween old and new Russia. We live in an age of right 
 angles and parallelograms, and tortuous architecture affords 
 us a temporary relief. There is an Oriental fascination in 
 these cup-like ceilings with their rich linings, which re- 
 minded me of the handiwork of southern Spain, where an 
 earlier and more sensuous architecture delights the traveller. 
 
 Adjoining these vagaries of the past is the beautiful new 
 
THE NEW PALACE. 253 
 
 palace, whose dignified form rises above the surrounding 
 minarets and domes as if spurning their acquaintance. This 
 is the most modern building within the Kremlin, and it cer- 
 tainly is the most imposing. From its balconies toward 
 the river one gets a splendid view of the town and the out- 
 lying suburbs, while nearer at hand the soft river, the col- 
 ored steeples, and the uneven walls present a dazzling 
 spectacle, especially at sunset. 
 
 Peter the Great and Nicholas were the disciples of mag- 
 nification in everything they undertook ; — they built so as to 
 make their neighbors wonder ; and when they died, the 
 result of their labors was such as to deter their successors 
 from trying to imitate them. Peter did not pay much at- 
 tention to Moscow — he gave his life to building the capital 
 on the Neva — but Nicholas lived in an era more favorable 
 to schemes of architectural aggrandizement. He did not 
 confine his ambition to St. Petersburg : he extended it to 
 this Muscovite centre, where several of his great memorials 
 are still to be seen. This palace stands on the site of the 
 one burned during the conflagration in 1812, and partakes 
 of a national character, as it is really a monument to com- 
 memorate the stirring events of the French invasion. The 
 ambitious monarch was not selfish in his extravagance, for 
 in the great halls of his palace are marble tablets enumer- 
 ating the brave deeds of his generals. I visited this palace 
 more than once, and each time the unwonted splendor grew 
 upon me, for there I saw riches displayed with a taste and 
 moderation that the churchmen of the empire might emu- 
 late. The stately apartments are not robbed of their dignity 
 by being bespangled with that theatrical frippery which is 
 everywhere so prevalent. 
 
 The hall of Saint George, with exquisite ceilings and 
 satin-covered walls, contains a score of huge marble col- 
 umns, upon the sides of which are inscribed in golden let- 
 
254 AALESUND TO TETUAAT. 
 
 ters the name of every knight belonging to the aristocratic 
 order. This is a military honor highly prized by its pos- 
 sessor, and eagerly sought after, but it is only conferred after 
 most meritorious services in time of war. No wonder that 
 an officer will strive after the enamelled cross, which carries 
 with it the right to have his name and a brief biography cut 
 deep in the veinless pillars of the imperial palace, where it 
 will be preserved to coming generations. It is a glittering 
 prize to offer for military valor. 
 
 Sumptuous as this martial hall is, the adjoining one, 
 clothed in delicate blue and dedicated to the Order of Saint 
 Andrew, far surpasses it both in furniture and adornment. 
 Peter was the founder of this order, and it is conferred only 
 on imperial princes and the very highest dignitaries of the 
 state, but, like the Order of the Garter, it is elastic enough 
 to include the sovereigns of other countries. Here may be 
 seen the imperial throne, which furnishes a study in the art 
 of mingling riches with upholstery such as I had never seen. 
 The throne is seldom occupied, and age alone is wearing 
 its exquisite trappings. Perhaps the world, and certainly 
 the modern world, never presented a more magnificent 
 spectacle than this lofty hall with its splendid appointments 
 during coronation week. No place could be better adapted 
 to show off the pomp and splendor of imperial society than 
 the grand halls of this palace. The architects drew on a 
 liberal plan, so very liberal that a military review might be 
 held there. The banqueting-hall is made as beautiful as 
 human ingenuity could devise, and is imposing enough to 
 deaden one's appetite, or take it away all together. To 
 really enjoy a dinner amid surroundings so unique and daz- 
 zling seems impossible. The floor is polished like plate- 
 glass, and serves nicely as a mirror — an advantage, sure- 
 ly, if guests desire to complete their toilets while at the 
 table. This high perfection which polishing attains in 
 
THE TAR EM. 255 
 
 Russia is done by the moujics or lower servants, who 
 encase their feet in chamois-skin shoes, and then dance for 
 hours. They sing and dance in the happy anticipation of 
 an extra allowance of hot vodki, and the nearer the reward 
 the more madly they whirl round. There are rooms where 
 this shining process is so admirably done as to give the 
 floor the appearance of glass, and strangers are often de- 
 ceived, especially when the walls are covered with those 
 elegant mirrors which extend from the frieze to the floor, 
 with wonderful reflection. I have often observed the exact 
 image of some great vase, showing itself on the polished 
 wood with as much distinctness as in the mocking mirrors. 
 
 In the days of the ancient czars court society was consti- 
 tuted on a somewhat different plan than at present : there 
 must have been more or less Oriental influence pervading 
 the atmosphere of the Kremlin, for adjoining this superb 
 palace, and forming a part of it, are the quaint apartments 
 known as the Tarem, and once occupied by the czarina and 
 her daughters. The staircase leading up to the place is in 
 keeping with the strange sight which is seen on entering. 
 In closest companionship are the dining-halls, chapels, bed- 
 rooms, and other chambers connected with this female pris- 
 on-house, all low and uninviting, but most elaborately dec- 
 orated and embellished according to the taste then in vogue. 
 This was the sacred spot where the gaze of the stranger 
 never fell : not even the court physician was permitted to go 
 his rounds till the shutters had been securely closed and the 
 friendly light excluded. If he chanced to make a fatal 
 diagnosis in the darkness, he probably was tried for treason 
 and summarily beheaded. The Tarem is rather curiously 
 constructed, in four stories, each smaller than the one be- 
 neath it, so as to give a wide space on the roofs for prome- 
 nading and exercise. 
 
 Napoleon, it is said, took great delight in frequenting 
 
256 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 these deserted halls, passing hours in walking around the 
 lofty terraces surrounding them. It was here that he saw 
 his star blazing in the zenith, and he began forming plans 
 for establishing Europe on a secure foundation of peace and 
 equity. With Russia humbled, and his other enemies 
 down-heartened, the emperor congratulated himself on the 
 glorious consummation of his marvellous career. There 
 was to be a new order of things, and he was to be the me- 
 diator between the old and the new ; he would establish 
 everywhere a European code, an international court of ap- 
 peals with full powers to redress all wrongs ; in short, he 
 would have a uniform system of money, of weights, of laws. 
 But in an instant the calm lustre of the September heavens 
 was banished, and there followed that tempest of flame 
 which licked up the star overhead and sent the dreamer 
 into exile. Even on that lonely island the mind of Napoleon 
 would often go back to Moscow, for the rude Cossack cap- 
 ital, with its glowing architecture and its lavishment of 
 wealth, exercised an unceasing fascination over him, and to 
 his dying day the spell haunted his imagination. 
 
 History furnishes no more impressive picture than that of 
 Napoleon standing alone on the palace terrace and watch- 
 ing the golden minarets melt into flame. So deeply were 
 the sensations fixed in his mind, that years afterwards he 
 said that with all the powers of poetry the burning of Troy 
 did not equal the destruction of Moscow. It was literally 
 an ocean of fire. With the exception of Paris, there is no 
 city so closely connected with Napoleon as this glittering 
 capital of the steppes. And even to-day the citizens take 
 pride in showing the relics left behind by the imperial le- 
 gions in their retreat. 
 
 In one of the wings of the palace is that famous deposi- 
 tory of the pomp and circumstance of Russia's growth, 
 known as the Treasury. The word Treasury is not used in 
 
THE TREASURY. 257 
 
 the signification we are accustomed to : it does not mean 
 the mint, or the place where the financial transactions of 
 the government are carried on. It is rather a national 
 museum, like the Tower of London, where one may read 
 the great volume of imperial history as related by the curi- 
 osities and gems of former generations. One may pass 
 more profitable hours in this vast treasure-house than in all 
 the rest of the Kremlin together, and repeated visits are in- 
 capable of exhausting its interest. Every epoch of the coun- 
 try's history is made exceedingly interesting by the display 
 of weapons, dresses, and utensils common to it; and in this 
 way one obtains a most picturesque and correct idea of the 
 rapid advancement of this remarkable people. 
 
 In a material point of view, Russia has most curiously, 
 though perhaps unintentionally, imitated the enterprise of 
 the United States, and, untrammelled by conservatism, she 
 has hesitated at nothing which promised good returns. At 
 the time of the Crimean war, Russia had only a few hun- 
 dred miles of railroad ; to-day there is a network over the 
 empire, even extending into Asia, of upwards of 20,000 
 miles, and the work is still going on. And so, in this 
 museum, the great divisions between one age and another 
 are plainly marked. 
 
 The reign of Ivan the Terrible is set forth by rude and 
 barbarous implements of war, cross-bows and spears, while 
 that of Peter, though quite as martial, is less savage in 
 form, and constantly broken by articles of peaceful mean- 
 ing. But the greatest study should be given to the cases 
 containing the crowns of conquered tribes and kingdoms, 
 for they furnish the most touching chapters of the empire's 
 history. These gleaming emblems of sovereignty are like 
 so many monuments to buried grandeur and power : their 
 wearers are dead, and the subjects over which they ruled 
 are either scattered far and wide, or humbled beneath the 
 
258 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 strong arm of the victor; and the crowns, with their clus- 
 ters and studs, alone remain to tell their stirring history. 
 
 The entrance to the Treasury is through the Armory — a 
 vast hall whose walls are of steel, and whose passages lie 
 through lanes of iron and brass. Here are stands of arms 
 and armor, conical helmets once the property of the chief 
 of the Tartars, suits of mail, daggers, scimetars, clumsy 
 match-locks, shields, long swords whose hilts must have 
 been held in giant hands, cannon and shot, fortress keys 
 and draw-bridge chains, and an innumerable display of 
 death-dealing curiosities. 
 
 Unless one has sufficient time to spend in this Russian 
 tower, a guide-book and a valet de place make a good com- 
 bination, for, between the pages of the one and the oratory 
 of the other, each object seems illumined with a special his- 
 tory of its own. A number is attached to each article, so 
 the book can generally be consulted with advantage. The 
 most interesting exhibition in the building is that of the 
 jewels and crowns, each in a glass case, admirably adapted 
 for viewing, and watched over by highly important func- 
 tionaries in green velvet coats, embroidered waistcoats, and 
 becoming knee-breeches. While these finely arrayed gen- 
 tlemen have no chronological connection with the jew- 
 els, they are useful for purposes of comparison. Encase 
 them in mail, crown them with iron, put huge bows in 
 their modern hands, and set them in the market-place in 
 front of St. Basil's, and there would be commotion among 
 the people. As they speak only the vernacular, they are 
 valuable only to the native as he strolls about the premises, 
 but they serve also to give a tone to the ancient richness. 
 This is the best school for the lapidary in all Europe, for 
 the art of stone-cutting is set forth in all its primitiveness. 
 There are stones which appear to be smeared with dirt, 
 thus screening their lustre, and there are others which have 
 
ROYAL GEMS. 259 
 
 been placed in their setting while in a rough state ; but these 
 imperfections correspond nicely with the workmanship dis- 
 played on the crowns. A lusty blacksmith must have been 
 the court jeweller in the times of Oleg and Jengis Khan. 
 Leather as well as metal was used in crown-making, and 
 among others is an ugly looking helmet, heavy enough to 
 drive a royal head out of sight between the shoulders. But 
 in the old reigns, size rather than quality was cultivated ; 
 so this ponderous head-gear must be accepted as a faithful 
 chapter. 
 
 The chamber allotted to the display of these gems is not 
 large, but the arrangement is admirable, for each crown is 
 placed on a stand, so that the curious may inspect it from 
 all sides. The visitors are requested to go round in order, 
 that is, beginning at the rusty old crown near the entrance : 
 but this military idea is not entirely practicable if one cares 
 to read history in sequence. The crowns of Kazan, of 
 Georgia, of Tartary, of Turkey, of the Monguls, and of 
 other peoples, are placed regardless of the requirements 
 of time. But, after all, this matters little, for the labels tell 
 one the story. The aesthetic tastes of the old Russians does 
 not appear to have been highly cultivated, and falls far 
 below that of the more Eastern tribes, for the artistic skill 
 bestowed on the crowns taken from the invaders is very 
 noticeable. The workmanship is often dainty and ingen- 
 ious, although that insatiable love of over-ornamentation 
 crops out constantly, and surpasses the boundary line of 
 the wonderful. In one crown there are said to be a thou- 
 sand diamonds, and as many rubies and other gems, and 
 even this extraordinary display does not startle any one 
 accustomed to the sights of the Treasury. 
 
 The royal robes are heavy with gems, and must have re- 
 quired a strong back to carry them ; in fact, the courtiers 
 of Alexis were clothed in such stiff gowns that they could 
 
260 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 not bend the knee to their imperial master. Articles worn 
 or used by Peter the Great are most numerous, forming in 
 themselves a large collection of rich and interesting curiosi- 
 ties. I had supposed the souvenirs in the Hermitage at St. 
 Petersburg included all the personal effects of the great 
 czar, but here I found another assortment quite as worthy 
 of inspection. Peter rejoiced in a gorgeous wardrobe, and 
 in countless swords and sceptres, which, like the crowns, 
 are resplendent with precious stones. The double throne 
 used at the coronation of Peter and his brother is regarded 
 as a shrine by the faithful, and receives homage according- 
 ly. Behind its draperies the ambitious Sophia concealed 
 herself, and pulled the wires, as it were. The great mon- 
 arch's favorite crown is precisely what one would expect of 
 Peter — heavy, unwieldy, a warlike casque illumined with 
 emeralds and pearls ; but he possessed others, five or six, 
 and all of them embellished in the same riotous way. 
 
 Catherine, the imperial spouse, was compelled to bear 
 the weight of 700 crown jewels on her poor head, and in 
 spite of this bedizenment she did not escape the saucy 
 comments of her royal sister at the court of Berlin, who 
 wrote that " The czarina is short and lusty and remarkably 
 coarse, so that at the first sight you would take her for a 
 German actress. Her clothes look as if bought at a doll 
 shop, everything is so old-fashioned and so bedecked with 
 silver tinsel. She was decorated with a dozen orders, and 
 portraits of saints, and relics, which occasioned such a 
 clatter when she walked you would suppose an ass with 
 bells was approaching." If Wilhelmina told the truth, the 
 czarina was as grotesque in her appearance as the Church 
 of Saint Basil. If she set the fashion in dress to the ladies 
 of her court, a royal levee furnished a spectacle frightful to 
 the gods. 
 
 Thrones brought from beyond the steppes invite a sym- 
 
TROPHIES OF WAR. 
 
 26l 
 
 pathy. There is one from poor Poland, another from the 
 Crimea, one from Persia which shines with diamonds, still 
 another in ivory ; then battle flags droop lazily from the 
 walls, and furnish a commentary on the fortunes of war. 
 Another room contains the gifts that have passed from for- 
 eign sovereigns to the czars, — vases, paintings, jewels, 
 services of gold, embroideries, medals, and orders. The 
 Stuart family were thoughtful, and sent their glittering 
 tokens to the rulers of Russia. The collection of state car- 
 riages is neither large nor elegant, not so good as Versailles, 
 or Madrid ; still, association lends a value to the massive 
 chariots and golden coaches. Here, also, is one of the 
 most striking objects in the entire Treasury — the simple 
 iron camp-bed of Napoleon. Visiting Gauls may contem- 
 plate this, and also many other suggestive things dangling 
 from the pillars, or reposing in the cases, or on the floor ; so 
 may the Swedes regale themselves with many a reminder 
 of former humiliation ; but alone, of all others, the Pole can 
 find no pleasure in these burnished halls. 
 
 Pennants emblazoned with the golden crescent tell the story 
 of that imperial ambition which has burned so fiercely for 
 centuries, which burns now, and which some day will burst 
 forth in inextinguishable fury and plant the white cross on the 
 ramparts of the Golden Horn. The Orient has beautified 
 and enriched this national museum beyond all other nations : 
 it has furnished the inspiration to the Russian to go forth 
 and conquer; it has taught the lessons of war at an awful 
 price ; but here in this splendid temple its results startle 
 the world by their magnificence and completeness. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MOSCOW AND WARSAW. 
 
 THE Ascension Convent is touchingly plain when one 
 comes to it directly from the lustrous chambers of the 
 Royal Palace, but its very plainness is refreshing and rest- 
 ful to eyes wearied by so much splendor. Founded long 
 ago by Eudoxia, one of the saintliest of women, it has now 
 become one of the famous convents of Russia. Apart from 
 its religious interest, it commands respect as being the 
 burial-place of so many illustrious women : czarinas and 
 princesses lie entombed in becoming majesty, and are 
 watched over by nuns whose presence dispels the air of the 
 grave, and puts in its place some of the amenities of life. 
 Like the Fortress church at St. Petersburg, this imperial 
 mausoleum is made attractive ; for within its walls are hap- 
 piness and charity in living form, and, what is more distinc- 
 tively national, actual trading. Yes, the nuns were as eager 
 to turn their handiwork to profit as their less pious sisters in 
 the Katai Gorod outside, and offered for sale many beauti- 
 ful articles of their skill. The nuns were not wanting in 
 that personal attraction, both in face and dress, which invites 
 strangers to invest their roubles without regret ; and it is 
 safe to say that the holy sisters beneath the cupolas of 
 Eudoxia, if unaware of their sweet fascinations, are con- 
 scious of some worldly accomplishments. 
 
 With this charming picture of Russian life bright in my 
 memory, I walked down the rough esplanade, and beneath 
 that shapely Redeemer's Gate out into the noisy world. 
 That part of the population gathered in the square seemed 
 
ST. BASIL'S. 263 
 
 to be talking at once, and I learned it was market or auction 
 day, when wares of various kinds are offered for sale. If 
 the seller and buyer had been at swords' points, their men- 
 aces and gestures could not have been fiercer ; but I ob- 
 served that it was only a part of the transaction, — the spice 
 of it, in all probability, — and I was at once made easy in my 
 mind. These busy men of Moscow were clad in coarse 
 garments, — even sheepskin played its part, — and their gen- 
 eral appearance proclaimed them to be genuine natives ; 
 but with all their Russian blood and costumes they were 
 not strange or outlandish enough to be associated with that 
 remarkable church standing at the end of the square. 
 
 That hobgoblin edifice is stranger than any sort or condi- 
 tion of man, and is as solitary in its conceit as Lucifer. All 
 the wide world does not know its prototype : not all the 
 generations of Eastern builders have improved it with a sug- 
 gestion. It is certainly the most original sight in Europe. 
 Beauty it has none, and its fascinations are the fascinations 
 of the serpent's folds ; and yet the more you behold it the 
 more abject slave you become to its weird and startling archi- 
 tecture. Built in the middle of the 16th century by the 
 terrible Ivan, it remains to this day the most characteristic 
 monument in the world, and will doubtless so remain till 
 the end of time. The fact that succeeding ages have never 
 attempted to copy its prominent features speaks well for its 
 exceeding originality. It has been called a nightmare ; — it 
 is worse : it is the delirium tremens of human invention, 
 for its spires and domes are bent and twisted as if in agony, 
 and its face is distorted and frightful. Around one central 
 spire are eight domes with bulb-like tops, and painted in 
 every conceivable color from violet to red. These are set 
 on a platform reached from the street by rows of steps. So 
 unique is everything connected with St. Basil's, that uni- 
 formity in even the smallest designs is purposely avoided : 
 
264 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ribs, flutes, belts, sharp projections, spirals, glazed and irreg- 
 ular surfaces, each painted a different color, are crowded upon 
 one another in wildest confusion, — and this is the kind of 
 decoration that adorns the domes and walls of this barba- 
 rous temple. How it was possible to avoid duplication in 
 all this arrangement is as surprising as the work itself, but 
 the closest examination does not discover any nodding on 
 the part of the German builders. As Ivan used to sit in a 
 chair and watch the work go on, there was but small chance 
 for oversight, inasmuch as the beheading-stone was always 
 in plain view from the church ; and no emperor ever loved 
 to chop oft* heads better than the old tyrant whose caprices 
 created this caricature. The interior of the church is in 
 keeping with its outside extravagances, being full of pas- 
 sages, cells, little chapels, arcades, some low, others lofty, 
 some plain, others gorgeous in mosaics and in ceilings of 
 gold, and each independent of the others. Confused in its 
 own plan, intentionally, of course, the interior makes a 
 labyrinth whose windings and turnings might sadly bewil- 
 der brave Theseus of old. You go up and down stone 
 steps ; you come face to face with massive doors which 
 threaten to j:mt a stop to further investigation, — but the un- 
 kempt priest knows the secrets, and the doors swing on 
 their hinges, and on you go through the never-ending 
 maze. I attended service in one of the chapels, where, 
 owing to the smallness of the apartment, the humble wor- 
 shippers pressed close upon the priests and singing boys ; 
 but the fervor of the people invites almost anything in Rus- 
 sia, and no one seemed to mind the crowding. 
 
 One of the sights — and a more characteristic one could 
 not be imagined — is the tomb of St. Basil. This interesting 
 personage used to go about Moscow half clad, or not clad 
 at all, and play the prophet, claiming to be possessed of 
 supernal powers in the way of healing the sick and accom- 
 
THE MEMORIAL CHURCH. 265 
 
 plishing wonders ; so, when he yielded up the ghost, a grate- 
 ful constituency placed his body in this fantastic church, 
 and hung over his coffin the iron chain and collar which 
 he wore. He is known in history as the Idiot, but in spite 
 of that his resting-place was for a long time the resort 
 of those afflicted with incurable diseases, and many mar- 
 vellous cures were reported. This church seems to have 
 a peculiar fascination for idiots, as another distinguished 
 member of that class lies appropriately entombed in one of 
 the dark halls ; but after all it is refreshing to mix them in 
 with the hierarchy of saints, as it seems to relieve the 
 monotony. Look at them as you will, the quaint and 
 indescribable features of St. Basil form a picture wonderful 
 and rare, and strong enough to arrest the attention of the 
 stranger, even though he be impatient to behold the wealth 
 of the unvisited Kremlin. Napoleon ordered this " mosque," 
 as he called it, to be blown up, but fortunate indeed is 
 posterity that the incongruous dreams of Ivan's architects 
 escaped the vengeance of the sullen Corsican. 
 
 At the other end of the Kremlin, beyond its walls, stands 
 the sturdy memorial church erected to commemorate the 
 retreat of the French from Moscow. Nicholas began its 
 construction, and when I saw it the artisans were at work 
 on the porphyry walls and on the bas-reliefs. The pro- 
 portions of the church are grand, and every corner and 
 angle conforms to the best of modern rules. A massive 
 dome, gold-capped, seemed capable of illuminating the 
 night with its brilliancy, and each of the four towers sur- 
 rounding it would be a sufficient honor to any church in 
 the empire. The walls are of snowy whiteness, and the 
 numerous windows let in a flood of painted light which 
 gives a beautiful glow to the frescos and the mosaics. 
 High above the marble pavement of the cathedral extend 
 
 galleries richly sculptured, and from their heavy balustrades 
 12 
 
266 AALESUND TO TETL/AN. 
 
 one gets a grand view of the glittering interior. The 
 form of the church makes a perfect view possible ; and 
 when the great candelabras are ablaze, the scene must be 
 indescribably splendid. 
 
 Down across the new stone bridge to the other side of 
 the river the neighborhood has an air of business : the peo- 
 ple you meet go about as if they had something to do, and 
 the droskies rattle unceasingly over the cobbles. In the 
 winter, when the provinces begin to bring in their products, 
 this part of the town presents an animated picture full of 
 the strange phases of Russian life; but in summer the 
 streets are indistinct in skurrying clouds of Moscow dirt 
 and dust, and Moscow dirt and dust strike like the sting 
 of a wasp. The monstrous building with a thousand win- 
 dows, the largest building in Moscow, is the foundling 
 hospital established by the great Catherine, and is now on 
 its second century of existence. As its rules for admitting 
 infants are very easy, the institution has an ever increasing 
 popularity among the maidens of the neighboring country. 
 No compromising questions are asked, nor are the mothers 
 subjected to any catechism. The big doors are always 
 open, and scores of children pass and repass all the time. 
 The method of receiving the babes is simple. There is an 
 inquiry about baptism and the name, for the little outcasts 
 are generally furnished with both these essential posses- 
 sions ; then the child is numbered, and the duplicate is given 
 to the mother, who then takes her departure, leaving the 
 tender offspring to the care of the state. The system works 
 well, reflecting much credit on the government that fos- 
 ters it. The wards of the hospital are a sight to behold — 
 thousands of cribs and thousands of babies, as much alike as 
 two drops of water, some in a state of refreshing quiescence, 
 others in angry vociferation. They probably were thinking 
 in Russian, but their screeching was of the most approved 
 
THE IBERIAN MOTHER. 267 
 
 cosmopolitan kind. It was easy to understand. Infantile 
 distress has a universal language. 
 
 Moscow cannot be seen in a day : the points of interest 
 are too widely separated and are too numerous for quick 
 work. The besetting difficulty in seeing the sights of Mos- 
 cow is the want of a good guide-book, for, owing to the 
 language and the character type, a stranger must either put 
 himself under the dictatorship of a valet de place, or take 
 the risk of passing many important objects without notice. 
 My stay was fortunately long enough to encourage a little 
 independence in my movements, but after all the results 
 were not wholly satisfactory. If one knew just enough of 
 the vernacular to read, and to ask questions, and to half 
 understand the answers, there could not be a more charm- 
 ing place than Moscow in the entire itinerary of travel. It 
 is not alone the public buildings, but the people themselves, 
 that would be interesting. 
 
 Some of their religious customs certainly deserve the 
 name of originality, as, for instance, the peregrinations of 
 the Iberian Mother. This is to Moscow what the Santis- 
 simo Bambino is to Rome, and no undertaking, either great 
 or small, is ventured upon till the Iberian virgin has been 
 consulted. She goes to house-warmings, weddings, feasts, 
 funerals, coronations, and elsewhere, and is in as much 
 demand as one of our state governors during cattle 
 fair time. She is furnished with a splendid turnout — a 
 coach and six horses — and a picturesque driver, who whirls 
 her saintship through the thoroughfares of Moscow like 
 lightning, and all heads are uncovered as the equipage 
 passes by. I once met this sight, but did not understand its 
 significance ; I supposed it was the Metropolitan, or some 
 imperial dignitary, whose coming was the signal for adora- 
 tion. The Iberian Mother, which is nothing but a picture 
 representing the Virgin and the child, is the most sacred 
 
268 AALESUND TO TETUAJV. 
 
 object in Russia ; and although the Russians are preemi- 
 nently a kneeling and bowing race, their religious gym- 
 nastics when in the presence of this icon exceed anything 
 I ever guessed at. They seem to be transported with ecs- 
 tasy, and actually totter on the boundary line of insanity. 
 
 The chapel where the icon receives all this homage is 
 hardly adequate to the importance of its tenant, being small, 
 and, as I thought, dark and uncleanly. But the faithful 
 do not mind the absence of lapis lazuli or malachite ; it is 
 the engemmed painting that binds their reverence, and be- 
 fore its shining frame they kneel and pray and supplicate 
 and kiss. The chapel is never closed, and probably never 
 deserted ; even the Emperor goes there, and, side by side 
 with the ragged beggar, performs his devotions. I took a 
 good look at this famous icon, and a homelier face was 
 never put on canvas. Dark, swarthy, and ugly, more like 
 a Sioux squaw than the blessed mother of the Saviour, is 
 this sacred lady from Mount Athos. Years ago some ruth- 
 less savage thrust his spear into the cheek of the mother, 
 and there instantly gushed forth real blood, which is still said 
 to liquefy at stated periods. It is well to believe this story 
 in order to understand the affectionate regard for the icon. 
 
 Besides its thousand churches, the great city of half a 
 million souls contains institutions of a more secular nature, 
 namely, huge cafes, twenty-fold larger than any of those 
 along the boulevards in Paris, and a thousand-fold noisier. 
 Except in southern Spain I never beheld eating- and drink- 
 ing-places on such a grand scale. Everything is neat ; 
 even the waiters, who are dressed in the showy Muscovite 
 costume of red shirt and high boots, go about with an air 
 of cleanly importance, fetching you the samovar of tea and 
 the dish of caviar, or offering you the latest journal. This 
 brings to my mind the fact that the latest journal is gen- 
 erally very late, and even then, if it be a foreign publica- 
 
PLEASURE PLACES. 269 
 
 tion, the chances are that its columns may be blackened or 
 mutilated by the public censor. If the quarantine against 
 contagious epidemics were as strict as the censorship over 
 newspapers, Russia might be spared much misery. There 
 is an invariable custom in these cafes of removing one's hat 
 on entering, and of paying a slight tribute to the icon posted 
 in the corner. Moscow, even in its cups, does not forget 
 to be religious. In many of these tea-houses or caravan- 
 series are great self-regulated organs which pour forth an 
 endless stream of melody throughout the evening, mixing 
 in the national airs with tripping little snatches from the 
 operas on the Seine, and affording an entertainment to the 
 motley assemblage around the tables. 
 
 Outside the city are some beautiful pleasure-grounds, 
 where landscape gardening and art have been made to do 
 their utmost in laying out terraces and flower-beds, and in 
 constructing booths and grottos. Crowds gather here on 
 the mild summer evenings, and mirth is let loose in every 
 direction. Military bands furnish music, and a well 
 directed orchestra invites the revellers to dance. Of course 
 soldiers were as thick as the crows of the steppes, but they 
 seemed to enter into the dissipations of the town without 
 reluctance, and contributed their hard-earned pittance to 
 the support of the pleasures. Officers reclined on the 
 benches smoking cigarettes, or loitered about the walks in 
 search of mischief. Everybody minded his own business 
 and took good care that he got his money's worth. In one 
 part of the gardens there is a small theatre where comedies 
 are put on the stage, but from the little I saw it required a 
 superhuman intuition on my part to understand a word. 
 The audience laughed heartily, but I did not see the point 
 even when translated by the valet de place. It was too 
 indigenous to be plain. Of course the opera is another 
 matter, and the free use of native idioms does not impair 
 
270 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the jingle of the music. But Moscow is far behind St. 
 Petersburg in things musical, although it sustains a some- 
 what pretentious opera-house which enjoys the usual sea- 
 son. A few English plays have a strong hold on the peo- 
 ple. Sheridan is very taking ; but the French drama is 
 more to their taste, and is represented with great frequency. 
 
 On one of the hills of the town — and some travellers assert 
 that there are seven, as in Rome — stands the governor's pal- 
 ace, with a rather striking facade and a royal air about its 
 porticos. It is the residence of the governor of the district, 
 who seems to be the czar in all matters connected there- 
 with. He maintains a most imperial suite, and his levees 
 are of the ideal splendor. 
 
 In this section of Moscow art and literature have their 
 home, and the idea of despotism is banished when one sees 
 the buildings of the Imperial University. Here every 
 branch of learning is taught, and its library contains more 
 than one hundred thousand volumes. As books in Russian 
 colleges are like so much gunpowder, there is an explosion 
 at stated periods, and a batch of young men are either sent 
 to the mines, or, more fortunate, like Bakunin and Step- 
 niak, succeed in bringing up in Geneva, whence they fling 
 their firebrands across the frontier. It is said that Ivan put 
 out the eyes of his St. Basil architect in order that he might 
 not reproduce that structure, and it is probably on the 
 same principle that the government tries to put out the 
 eyes of its students after accustoming them to light. 
 
 More interesting by far was the Ethnological Museum 
 where all the provinces, khanates, districts, and dead 
 kingdoms of the great Russian empire are represented in 
 wax and clothing. This unsurpassed collection gives a 
 most comprehensive lecture upon the conglomerate nature 
 of the various peoples and tribes that go to make up what 
 we call Russia. It is a revelation in history, as well as a 
 
ETHNOLOGY. 27 1 
 
 masterpiece of skill and knowledge. The peasants and the 
 nomads of the steppes stand out in all their distinctive orig- 
 inality, in form, in feature, and in costume. Some of the 
 figures wear a rather savage aspect, and might create an 
 uneasiness were it not for their tags and numbers, while 
 others looked simple enough to be pitied. Visitors man- 
 ifest considerable interest in the strange specimens before 
 them. They examine this one with their eyes and that one 
 with their hands, and sometimes burst into uproarious guf- 
 faws at the effigy of the Inuit and the uncontaminated Tar- 
 tar. There is a physiognomy about these citizens which 
 makes laughter seem proper, but it occurred to me that the 
 merriment might be reciprocal could the beady-eyed 
 heathens contemplate a Russian peasant clothed in sheep- 
 skins or caftan, with hair falling over his shoulders, a 
 beard hanging to his waist, and looking very much like 
 some wild animal. 
 
 In the matter of an ethnological exhibition the streets of 
 Moscow are worth something, for there one meets about as 
 motley a collection as it is possible to conceive of. The 
 Gipsies form a large percentage of the population, and to 
 travellers in search of choice models in flesh and tatters I 
 unhesitatingly commend the gipsy quarter. Even in my 
 hotel the servants were fancifully dressed in the old-fash- 
 ioned Muscovite way — blouses, belts, high boots, and caps 
 ornamented with peacocks' feathers. This last vanity is 
 quite pretty and appears to be the proper thing, as coach- 
 men and valets are invariably bedecked with these delicate 
 plumes, of which they are as proud as the bird itself. 
 
 Quaint and holy Moscow must be seen from afar when 
 the closer sight-seeing is done, and the graceful Sparrow 
 Hills were made for this very purpose. They are not far 
 from the Kremlin gates, two or three miles perhaps, but 
 the road leading to them is execrable in every particular. 
 
272 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 It is too bad that this popular and heavily travelled highway 
 could not undergo the benefits of Macadamization, and so 
 make it fit for Christians to journey over ; but in spite of 
 the churches and monasteries and vagrant worshippers along 
 the wayside, the ruts and dust and back-breaking paving- 
 stones of this thoroughfare continue to excite peaceful souls 
 to wrath. However, the driver is always a pious man, and 
 the prayer of the righteous availeth much, so you manage 
 to complete the journey without serious mishap. The ob- 
 jects of interest are not sufficiently alluring to call a halt. 
 The churches are plain, and so are the monasteries, neither 
 inviting more than a passing glance, while the occasional 
 private houses held in the close embrace of lawns and gar- 
 dens did not strike me as possessing those dainty charms 
 which we associate with suburban retreats. As a choice 
 quarter for beautiful residences, the road to Sparrow Hills 
 might be infinitely improved upon, for the outskirts of 
 Moscow, as I found them, were by no means beautiful, al- 
 though to the city dwellers they offer an agreeable change, 
 and on that account attain a popularity. The dusty road 
 is often crowded with pleasure-seekers wending their way 
 to the wooded heights beyond ; — families, embarked in their 
 patrimonial drosky, bent on seizing the fleeting joys of the 
 hour, smaller parties with lunch baskets hanging on their 
 arms, solitary pilgrims whose thoughts were resting at the 
 bottom of the tea urn — all kinds of men are overtaken on 
 that little journey. 
 
 Surely the fame of Sparrow Hills has not been exagger- 
 ated, for the view spread out is truly superb. Not magnifi- 
 cent in the sense of things vast and appalling, but of a 
 milder type of landscape, where there are verdant meadows 
 and a graceful river running through them, where white- 
 walled churches are dropped in here and there like stray 
 tents on battle-fields, while beyond rises the most original 
 
SPARROW HILLS. 273 
 
 horizon in the world, — a horizon ragged and scarred with 
 bell towers and painted spires, with peaks and burnished 
 domes, and with roofs and chimneys of countless houses, in 
 green, in blue, and in red. The time to watch this changing 
 picture is near the setting of the sun, when the strong 
 lights play their fantastic game on the chessboard of Mos- 
 cow, dancing from the Kremlin to the nearest peak, fling- 
 ing shadows, then rubbing them out, and accomplishing at 
 every move a veritable game of the juggler, pleasing and puz- 
 zling, and never wearying to the watcher from the Sparrow 
 Hills. The sun seems to love Moscow, and the feeling is 
 cordially returned, for the quaintness of the old town de- 
 mands the warmest affection in order fully to portray its 
 sensuous Eastern origin. Such architecture as is reflected 
 in the Moscow would be out of place on the Neva. 
 Here, notwithstanding the rigor of winter, the sun comes 
 back in June, and more than atones for his long absence. 
 And so from the brow of these hills one beholds the fullest 
 love-play between the city and the light of the blue heavens — 
 a circumstance that did not escape the observation of the 
 advancing French, as they looked out upon the same scene. 
 Moscow must have undergone a transformation since then. 
 It is much larger, and yet the same strange cupolas and 
 minarets, with the same rich coloring, stood out against the 
 red horizon, and between the hills and the Kremlin were 
 those wooden houses which fed the conflagration. The es- 
 sential features of the Tartar capital captivated Napoleon 
 and his generals then, as they captivate the wandering tour- 
 ist now. Ranged around the plateau are cafes, where the 
 easily delighted picnicker may drink his fill of tea or vodki 
 and eat his cakes, or, if he prefer, dance merrily to the 
 monotonous music of the native quadrille. Through the 
 fumes of a temperate indulgence, the glories of his Holy 
 Moscow must be intensified to that degree that causes him 
 12* 
 
274 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 to behold in imagination the eternal grandeur of the New 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 Back from the brink, but not far enough removed to 
 lose the view, are summer-houses of the rich ; and here 
 also is a lovely palace, once the property of Prince OrlofT, 
 but now untenanted. But nobility very wisely lets the com- 
 mon people enjoy the peaceful beauty of the Sparrow Hills, 
 and does not molest them with an elegance and form which 
 are only capable of envy. They either spend the summers 
 on their great estates, or seek repose at the watering-places 
 of France and Germany ; and the rude revellers of the city 
 mav make as much hilarity as they please. These resorts 
 are good schools in which to study the national character, 
 for every kind of type comes sooner or later, and a careful 
 observer will be edified to his finger tips ; and if one gets 
 tired of the constant babel of unintelligible Russian, one may 
 take refuge in the soft evening air just outside, and watch 
 the stars laugh at St. Basil's outlandish dress. This is the 
 spot where the traveller ought to take his last view of Mos- 
 cow. Having done the city well, let him come here and 
 think over his experiences ; let him recall the wonders he 
 has seen, — the temples, the screens, and the gems, — and then 
 take one long, parting look at the holy walls, and turn away. 
 
 Distances in Russia are truly magnificent — long, tedious, 
 and uninteresting spaces of level plains, with scarcely a city 
 or town to break the journey, no mountains nor dashing 
 torrents to please the eye, nothing but the same unbroken 
 landscape all the way from Moscow to Warsaw. It is a 
 thousand miles from the Holy City to the capital of ill-fated 
 Poland ; but the railroad accommodations are comfortable, 
 and the two days journey need not be wearisome. 
 
 Leaving Moscow late in the afternoon, Warsaw is reached 
 on the second day. We stopped several hours at Smolensk, 
 and I roamed about the ragged streets of the apparently 
 
SMOLENSK. 275 
 
 busy town in quest of curiosities. Perhaps the most curious 
 thing I came across was a series of factories actually hum- 
 ming with machinery. Operatives were at work, and there 
 was an unmistakable symptom of life hanging over the 
 scene. Smolensk is built on both sides of the Dnieper, 
 after the manner of American manufacturing towns, and 
 seems to be trying to earn its own living, but with what 
 success I am unable to say. Seen from a New England 
 point of view, the struggle is a hard one. Towns in 
 Russia, in order to be highly thought of, must lay some claim 
 to military importance ; and, judging from the strength of 
 the fortifications and the number of soldiers, Smolensk 
 enjoys some distinction in this direction. The government 
 regards this city as one of great strategical importance, the 
 bulldog on the road to Great Russia, and so long as his 
 teeth are kept sharp the danger of attack is considerably les- 
 sened. Napoleon whipped the Russians here, and then 
 marched on to Moscow via bloody Borodino ; and from that 
 day Smolensk has been made into a sort of citadel. 
 
 The cathedral is interesting in its way, and rejoices in the 
 usual big cylindrical pillars covered with saintly faces, and 
 in a splendid iconostas, on which the last resources of 
 wealth, regardless of taste, have been lavishly bestowed. 
 The sacred relics, if any there were, did not meet my gaze, 
 for my time was short, and to reach the frontier was of far 
 greater moment than all the anatomy of the hierarchy. 
 
 I did not linger in the incense, but hurried on, and 
 was glad to get back to the station, which had now be- 
 come crowded with human volcanoes, puffing furiously, 
 and yet not unnaturally. What a mania for smoking over- 
 comes the Russian at all times and places ! He seems ab- 
 solutely smoke-proof, and neither his throat nor his eyes 
 appear to suffer from his immoderate indulgence. The 
 Spaniards complain that it ruins the vocal organs, but I 
 
276 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 never heard any such plaint from the Russians. They either 
 use a better cigarette, or else the Creator intended them to 
 be fumiferous animals. 
 
 The train crawled on at the startling gait of fifteen miles 
 an hour, sometimes faster and sometimes slower, but al- 
 ways moderate enough to reassure the timorous passenger. 
 The hours dragged heavily, for the scenery gave no oppor- 
 tunities for exclamations. It was the same constant succes- 
 sion of flat country, covered with a not too luxurious growth 
 of pine and hemlock. 
 
 We stopped often and rested long, so there was no feel- 
 ing of physical restraint. The station-houses were made 
 of brick, and had good walks in front of them, while the 
 eating arrangements, although not sumptuous, were quite 
 good enough for sensible travellers. The vigilant soldier 
 paced up and down watching the strangers as they saun- 
 tered on the platform or gulped down those patriotic pota- 
 tions of red-hot tea ; but nothing called for his interference, 
 and we were suffered to depart in freedom. 
 
 Many stations are placed miles away from the town or 
 village, and in time of the spring mud must be about as in- 
 accessible as anything recognized by our new civilization. 
 After being car-bound for two or three days, this extra 
 journey in the droskies must be highly pleasing ; but the 
 railroads must conform to strategic rather than to popu- 
 lar purposes. I noticed at some small wood-locked places 
 that the station-yard was alive with these vehicles, and 
 that the number of them was out of all proportion to the 
 requirements of the occasion. However, a passenger a 
 week would, I presume, suffice for a comfortable living. 
 
 On the second day I reached the confines of Poland, and 
 a veritable transformation scene overspread the country. The 
 unvarying monotony of Russian landscape had given way 
 to green fields, neat farms, and a better cultivation. The 
 
IN POLAND. 277 
 
 signs posted along the line were printed in the Polish lan- 
 guage, and once more it became possible to read the letters, 
 even though the meaning remained hidden. The people 
 whom I met were more becomingly dressed, and actually 
 appeared happier and better contented, than the victorious 
 Slavs across the border : why, I do not know, unless it is 
 an inherent characteristic which the cruel hand of oppres- 
 sion cannot stifle. Moreover, the surrounding country was 
 more thickly settled, the habitations were more compact, 
 and certain evidences of thrift showed themselves, thus mak- 
 ing a pleasing contrast to the desolate plains and cheerless 
 hamlets of Russia. 
 
 A little paradoxical to be sure, but when you reach War- 
 saw you are not there : the train ends its long journey, the 
 baggage is tumbled out, and the excitement attendant on 
 such occasions is not missed. But Warsaw is more than a 
 mile distant, on the opposite bank of the Vistula. A long 
 and handsome iron bridge spans the river, and forms in 
 itself one of the noticeable sights of the town. At the hour 
 I crossed, traffic was at its daily height, and the noise and 
 seeming confusion and sickening dust would have made the 
 heart of a Neapolitan leap for joy. They do not drive so 
 furiously in Poland as in Moscow and St. Petersburg, and 
 the drivers have none of that piratical aspect common to the 
 droskymen. They maintain a very cosmopolitan reserve, 
 and do not affect any oddities in their dress ; and yet they 
 are every whit as dishonest as nature can make them. But 
 this is a prerogative of the trade all over the world, and one 
 must call philosophy to one's aid. 
 
 The streets are cruel in their persecutions, and the ar- 
 rangements for watering them are either very primitive or 
 altogether neglected. It was hot when I visited Warsaw, 
 and the air was packed with layers of dust. I put up at the 
 Hotel de V Europe, which a Polish lady had told me was 
 
_ 278 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 neither good in one way nor in another, and her judgment 
 was correct in every particular. This house was once shut 
 up by the government because a spy had been murdered in 
 one of its rooms, and even to this day it is regretable that 
 the imperial vengeance had not continued. The assassins 
 certainly murdered better than they knew. The dining-hall 
 had the appearance of a mess-room, so numerous were the 
 Russian officers, who smoked and guzzled and made sport 
 of their neighbors in all sorts of ways, mimicking and ogling 
 them without cessation, and laughing frantically at their ef- 
 forts. The soldiery stationed in Warsaw feel the importance 
 of their position as well as the superiority of their birth-right, 
 and every grade, from general to private, lives up to that feel- 
 ing. Wherever I went the true Cossack could be found, either 
 patroling, or lounging about with one sober eye on his 
 neighbors. If there ever was a city completely under mar- 
 tial law in time of profound peace it is Warsaw, and not- 
 withstanding order reigns, the imposing array of military 
 go through their daily manoeuvres. If the Russians do their 
 best to Russianize Warsaw, the inhabitants strenuously re- 
 sist it by keeping up their national characteristics. The 
 decree went out to banish the beautiful Polish language, and 
 yet the tongue of Sobieski is still spoken at the cradle and 
 the grave. In religious affairs the Russian government has 
 been singularly tolerant, and the Romish church flourishes 
 as strongly in Poland as in Spain ; for the policy is to allow 
 any kind of worship, provided it does not interfere with the 
 political welfare of the land. A good many nations might 
 read a few chapters on Russian tolerance, and profit by 
 them. Shrines like those one sees in Italy are met with at 
 the corners of the streets, and one large figure of the Virgin 
 Mary, surrounded by ever-burning lamps, emphasized the 
 Russian freedom of worship. On churches are golden 
 crosses, — not like those of Moscow, with chains depending 
 
WARS A W. 279 
 
 from the arms, but of the prescribed Roman pattern, while 
 within on the walls the alms-boxes beg for Peter's pence. 
 Even the Jews, who form nearly half of the city's popula- 
 tion, have their synagogues, and perform their rites without 
 molestation. Hated and persecuted as they are by the im- 
 perial heart, their religion is secure. They may turn Sat- 
 urday into Sunday, and go through the streets with gloomy 
 countenances and hands behind their backs ; they may de- 
 spise the Christian with all the venom of Shylock, and 
 long for the pound of flesh, but still their holy synagogues 
 flourish under the shades of the upas tree, and their rabbis 
 are not stoned. But bear in mind, that with all this looseness 
 in things religious the vigilance of the police is not relaxed, 
 and government Jesuits are ubiquitous and watchful. Everv 
 lane, alley, and public place is infested with these lynx-eyed 
 minions of autocracy. Nothing escapes them, and their reward 
 doubtless is commensurate with the number of their victims. 
 
 Entering Warsaw fresh from the two wonder cities of 
 Russia deprived me of that pleasure and enthusiasm which 
 I might have enjoyed had I come there first ; for take all 
 Warsaw, — its cathedral and churches, its parks and monu- 
 ments, and its mournful palaces, now only mausoleums of 
 patriotic memories, — all together would not fill one remote 
 corner of the bedazzling Kremlin. True, there is an anti- 
 quity connected with the city, and an intense historic interest 
 mingles with its sad edifices ; but the barbaric fancies of 
 Great Russia are wanting utterly. There one apparently 
 loses the bearings of chronology, as one views the handi- 
 work of St. Basil or the Ivan tower ; but here, every work 
 is stamped with the year of its creation. 
 
 The Vistula is an independent river as it sweeps along 
 through the town, giving a certain charm to whatever it 
 touches, and contributes largely to the dignity of the palace 
 built by Sigismund III, whose pleasing architecture is as 
 
280 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 refreshing as a breeze in summer. Historically, this palace 
 leads all the rest ; for within its halls and ante-rooms kings 
 have sat enthroned, senates have debated the solemn ques- 
 tions of national policy, princes have first seen the light, 
 and revelry has held its sway ; but all these are events long 
 since gone, and the splendid domain has passed into new 
 hands. The palace and grounds are not allowed to fall into 
 the slightest disorder, the facades are as imposing as ever, 
 and the pavements and walks are carefully looked after. 
 Directly in front stands a bronze statue of Sigismund, whose 
 sightless eyes cannot behold the imperial standard, with its 
 double-headed eagle. 
 
 Adjoining the palace is the cathedral, dating back many 
 centuries, but whose strength and Gothic grace have not been 
 suffered to decline during the wars and revolutions. Its 
 interior is not especially attractive, nor are its paintings — and 
 certainly not those representing the archiepiscopal succession. 
 
 In another part of the town is the large Saxon square, 
 something after the design of the Garden of the Tuileries, 
 where nurses and their prattling charges are wont to drink 
 in sunshine, and where, later on, the same nurses and their 
 cavaliers are wont to drink in beer to the strains of out-door 
 music. In this square is a towering monument, erected by 
 a grateful emperor to the memory of those recreant Poles 
 who fell fighting against their own people. This is as 
 anomalous as the clumsy statue of William of Orange in the 
 College Green at Dublin. Both must act as sedatives to 
 the people. Even on the Hudson the fate of an accom- 
 plished British spy has been commemorated by a monument 
 which the indignant descendants of his captors have right- 
 eously toppled over, amid the acclamations of the repub- 
 lic. Very likely the crowds circling around the Warsaw 
 monument give it little thought, being willing to put up 
 with it if the dead men can. 
 
LAZIENKI PARK. 28 1 
 
 Cafes and open air concert halls delight nightly audi- 
 ences, and the nimble feats of acrobats and sleight-of-hand 
 performers create a real French enthusiasm. The streets and 
 the pleasure places of a town quickly denote the temper of 
 its people ; and, judging from what I beheld in my two 
 days at Warsaw, the Poles are neither dyspeptic nor over 
 pious. They appear to drink the cup, and let to-morrow 
 look out for itself — very passable traits, provided they are 
 used with a strong moderation. I observed that the little 
 tables in the gardens did not smoke with tea, but with 
 something more potent and more cheering. Brandy and 
 soda flew about in a lively way, and the sizzling siphons 
 kept up an intermittent refrain during the evening. 
 
 There is one palace and park, that of Lazienki, which is 
 singularly beautiful and unique. I do not remember to 
 have seen anything like it in Europe. To get to it a car- 
 riage must be hired, and the driver traded with so as to be 
 on the safe side ; and then you may enter into its precincts 
 with full appreciation. It was built by Stanislaus, and he 
 superintended the laying out of the grounds. Whatever 
 may have been his ability as a statesman, he certainly ex- 
 celled in landscape gardening. The park is intersected with 
 canals and adorned with miniature lakes, upon which float 
 flower-beds and blooming plants, whose reflection in the 
 water creates a veritable aquarelle, as exquisite as a paint- 
 er's fancy. In the middle of one of the lakes is a theatre, 
 with an open stage facing the lawn, where seats are placed, 
 so that the spectators may not only enjoy the salubrious 
 evening air, but participate in an amphibious drama. It 
 must be a novel sensation to look across the sparkling wa- 
 ter at the actors and listen to the swell of the orchestra ; 
 but in the good days these marine representations were 
 common, though latterly the practice has fallen into disuse. 
 While the villa and grounds are not exactly public, the 
 
282 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 gates are open, and people may come and go as they 
 please ; and the afternoon I visited it the drives and walks 
 were well filled with sight-seers. 
 
 Warsaw is plentifully supplied with villas and substantial 
 mansions that give an air of refinement and luxury quite 
 in contrast with the greater city of Moscow, where it seem- 
 ed to me these two attractive features were sadly wanting. 
 Apparently Warsaw contains many people of wealth and 
 social importance. 
 
 Travellers from afar ought not to miss the drive to Villa- 
 nov, for, although the road is uneven and dusty, the palace 
 is well worth the trouble. It answered the purpose of a 
 Polish Versailles so far as royalty was concerned, but it 
 could never have been a popular resort, owing to its dis- 
 tance from the town. John Sobieski takes the place of 
 Louis XIV, and every apartment and flower-bed has some 
 reference to the unfortunate John. Villanov is charming 
 and peaceful, and its attractions are not confined to the 
 palace, for the extensive grounds round about are beautified 
 and refined by all the arts known to the gardener. There 
 are fountains, grottos, rustic bridges hanging over impet- 
 uous cascades, mounds, bowers, conservatories, and innu- 
 merable other attractions to divert the mind from the com- 
 plications of statecraft. History has it that the brave John 
 was anything but happy in the declining days of his life. 
 Domestic troubles worried him into his grave, but he cer- 
 tainly had the satisfaction of breathing his last amid one of 
 the gentlest touches of nature in all Poland. Villanov is a 
 sort of earthly paradise so far as adornment and beauty go, 
 and if a man is unable to live there in contentment, then by 
 all means he may do the next best thing — die, and be con- 
 sidered fortunate in his place of departure. 
 
 The Polish Jew is a type by himself, and, whatever rela- 
 tionship he may bear to the rest of his race, he seems to 
 
THE POLISH JEWS. 283 
 
 stand apart in certain outward characteristics. I strolled into 
 the Jews' quarter on Saturday and saw them in all their seedy 
 glory, silent, brooding, and apparently lost in speculation. 
 Clad in long caftans, high boots, and black caps, the chil- 
 dren of Israel darkened the streets on their holy Sabbath. 
 The houses were unpretentious and mean, and the shops 
 were ugly with heavy shutters, making their quarter of 
 the town the literal scene of mourning. A half hour's walk 
 makes a vast difference, from gay and noisy Warsaw to the 
 gloomy giotto of the Jews. When they met they conversed 
 in low tones with solemn mien, like friendly undertakers 
 discussing the possibilities of the cholera. There was no 
 levity, nor even lightness of expression, but the same un- 
 changeable, grim-visaged intercourse. They are not pict- 
 uresque nor alluring, — quite the contrary ; and if they suffer 
 at the hands of their fellow-townsmen, their sullen demeanor 
 may be in some measure accountable for the hostility. They 
 say a Barbary Jew beats the world : be it so ; — these Polish 
 Jews beat the devil. The Jewish question is vexatious to 
 more than one European government ; but repress them as 
 they will, the exceeding elasticity of the Jew allows him to 
 immediately resume his former place as a thorn in the side 
 of statesmanship. His history was ancient long before the 
 beginnings of old Russia had been dreamed of. The Jews 
 are not making history now, they are making bargains. 
 
 At midnight the train stopped at the German frontier, 
 baggage was examined, passports closely scrutinized, and 
 the ordeal was over. I strolled into the lunch-room and 
 looked about me. Beer, not tea, removed all doubts as 
 to my whereabouts ; pipes, not cigarettes, were corrob- 
 orating witnesses ; the gutteral language and the grab and 
 bolt table manners needed no explanation. The empire of 
 novelty, enterprise, and tyranny had been left behind, and 
 the realm of ideas and conservatism was at hand. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BERLIN TO MARSEILLES. 
 
 BERLIN was only a stopping-place on my way back to 
 Paris, whence I was to take my departure for Spain ; 
 so my stay in William's capital was brief — only a few days. 
 In that time I saw enough and got enough to satisfy me. 
 While the transition from Russia may have exercised its 
 influence, there seemed to be some inherent reason why 
 Berlin failed to impress me very deeply. I thought the 
 city not only uninteresting, but homely — heavy, in fact — as 
 compared with half a dozen cities in Europe. The famous 
 street " Unter den Linden" is well enough, but the Elysee 
 surpasses it in every way. Even the Rambla in Barcelona 
 is more vivacious. The one particular charm of the great 
 Thier garten is its exceeding nearness to the city, so near 
 that it actually forms a j:>art of it. It contains pretty drives 
 and broad tree-lined avenues, little lakes and artificial cas- 
 cades, and many other landscape touches to please the eye 
 and to stimulate local pride. 
 
 Just within the Brandenburg Gate stands the marble 
 monument to William I of Germany, with sides pictur- 
 esque in bas-reliefs representing the great actors in Ger- 
 man politics, the principal one being Bismarck, whose 
 huge form is always just behind his imperial master. 
 Poor Denmark, humbled Austria, and prostrate France are 
 called to mind by these sculptured figures. The whole 
 tops oft' in a gorgeous angel, holding aloof the crown of 
 laurel ; but her pinions seem restless, as if she wanted to 
 spread them and fly across the Rhine once more, whence, 
 
BERLIN. 285 
 
 according to the chances of war, she might return with 
 them clipped. 
 
 In front of the imperial palace is a noble bronze statue of 
 Frederick the Great, resting on a massive pedestal plenti- 
 fully adorned with sculpture illustrative of his life and 
 times. Its position in the middle of the shady avenue 
 marks it for a long distance, and a close inspection does 
 not lessen its artistic designs. In the near neighbor- 
 hood is the Royal Library, a handsome structure behind 
 whose pillars repose a million volumes and manuscripts, 
 the literary wealth of Prussia. While in front of this 
 library, I noticed a great commotion among the people. 
 They took off their hats and rushed towards the curb, 
 husbands pulled their wives, and mothers and nurses caught 
 up their children and made frantically for the same spot, 
 and all the time the German tongue ran like lager. In a 
 moment the reason was manifest : it was the emperor and 
 his military staff returning from a review. The popular 
 enthusiasm was strong and sincere, and had his sham cam- 
 paign been a real one the demonstration could not have 
 been more spontaneous. William courteously acknowledged 
 the salutations by that precise military salute always cus- 
 tomary in the German army, and in a moment more was 
 out of sight. 
 
 The German soldiers know the advantage of having a good 
 tailor, and they keep their uniforms in scrupulous order. 
 They do not go straggling along the streets like the French 
 and Spaniards, nor do they manifest the shiftlessness and 
 mental vacuity of the Russians ; they walk as if on parade, 
 and are, perhaps, over punctilious in their martial de- 
 meanor. Quartered at the Brandenburg Gate is a captain's 
 guard, very likely the flower of the corps, for thither are 
 constantly passing the high officials both of the state and 
 of the army, and every time the sentry sights one of them 
 
286 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 coming he cries out, and instantly there springs into exist- 
 ence a line of soldiers, as motionless and quite as statuesque 
 as the sculptures on the handsome gateway. I frequently 
 loitered near this spot just to see this performance, and the 
 oftener I saw it the stronger grew the fascination. And so 
 it is throughout the empire : the first note of alarm brings 
 every corps to attention. Once give a little study to the 
 army system of Germany, and the unexpected results of 
 the war of 1870 will not seem so surprising. 
 
 I found Potsdam more interesting than Berlin. The 
 reasons are obvious, for Frederick made the town famous. 
 Potsdam maintains a garrison of several thousand men, 
 which together with the fifty thousand inhabitants gives 
 it an unlooked for activity. Immediately on getting out 
 of the cars the mob of cabmen was at my heels, but the 
 proprietor of my hotel told me to walk to the palace, as it 
 took me through a lovely part of the town. The distance 
 was not very great, and 1 walked. I was fortunate in get- 
 ting acquainted with a young army officer who spoke Eng- 
 lish with marvellous purity, and he kindly took me under 
 his charge and showed me all I cared to see. He knew the 
 place so well that I am sure I did not miss anything. 
 
 First of all we visited the Garrison church, the military 
 mausoleum of Prussia, where sleep Frederick and his father 
 — a fit place for contemplation, as Napoleon said as he 
 gazed at the coffins. Around the walls are French flags, 
 wrested from the wars of 1814 and 1870, and they attract 
 more notice than the royal dust. Even my guide pointed 
 at them several times, as if afraid I might lose their signifi- 
 cance. This church is not beautiful. Look at it as you 
 may, there is neither simplicity nor embellishment, but an 
 awkward and cheerless design, which nine persons out of 
 ten would idly pass were it not the last resting-place of one 
 of Europe's greatest soldiers. 
 
POTSDAM. 287 
 
 But the really lovely spot in Potsdam is the park of Sans 
 Souci. Nature has been ably seconded by art in develop- 
 ing the park, and while there is no elaborate edifice, the 
 collection of little palaces and bowers is attractive, so that 
 on finishing the circuit the feeling of having done too much 
 is entirely absent. The palace which gives the name to 
 the park is built on the summit of a gentle hill, and is 
 reached by a succession of steps leading over several beau- 
 tiful terraces and past the great fountain and its basins, and 
 when the gravel walk at the doors of Sans Souci is reached, 
 a slight sensation of surprise attends you. The palace is 
 long and low, but easy to take care of, and altogether too 
 small to admit the slightest semblance to a court, or to fur- 
 nish entertainment to distinguished embassies ; and therein 
 consists the surprise. Frederick wanted a spot where he 
 might write French verses and play on his flute without 
 interruption, and here he had his wish. Voltaire and the 
 king had things all their own way. They got mad, and 
 then became reconciled ; they flattered each other and 
 lied to each other unmercifully, and Sans Souci heard it 
 all. The wooden floors are kept highly polished, and 
 visitors are made to put on woollen slippers and skate 
 and slide from apartment to apartment — a truly comical 
 proceeding, especially when the slippers are ten sizes too 
 large, which is often the case. The German women have 
 large feet when compared with those of their French or 
 American sisters, and they manage to get over the Sans 
 Souci skating-rink in good order ; but the frantic struggles 
 that some make is more diverting than all the relics of Fred- 
 erick and his philosophic friend.. I shall never forget the 
 polished floors of Potsdam. 
 
 Close by the palace is the famous windmill, which after 
 years of legal strife has fallen into the hands of a proud gov- 
 ernment. The clumsy old mill is one of the historic features 
 
288 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 of Potsdam, but to visitors who do not know its singular 
 history it looks like an intruder whose presence is unac- 
 countable. If they had only read its eventful biography, 
 its powerful arms would be more interesting to them. 
 The new palace has an air of constraint not in keeping 
 with the freedom intended by the grounds ; but kings must 
 be dignified, and Frederick built this latter residence in 
 order to wear his crown in public. With the beauties of 
 Potsdam in my memory, I left the German capital and 
 went directly to Cologne. 
 
 The train runs swiftly from Berlin to Cologne, clearing 
 the 400 miles in nine hours. The opportunity to get a full 
 view of the landscape is not great, for towns, villages, and 
 humanity danced wildly as we rushed past. What I saw 
 of the country reminded me of Devonshire in its gentleness 
 and cultivation. Everything appeared peaceful and pros- 
 perous ; — the farms were neat, and the habitations denoted 
 care, owing very likely to the attention given them by the 
 women, for the women do a great amount of manual labor 
 throughout Germany. On nearing the Rhine the scenery 
 became decidedly picturesque, and the land more broken 
 and wooded. 
 
 I reached Cologne on a moonlight evening, in just the in- 
 fluence needed to bring out the cathedral. It was a sight 
 not easily forgotten. The vast editice fairly sparkled in the 
 light, and its minarets and spires were portrayed against 
 the sky in chaotic fascination. It was, however, far from 
 being either irregular or chaotic. The Gothic embellish- 
 ments conformed to the best rules of the school ; but in 
 the quickening moon every projection and point seemed to 
 dance, and to change in form as the light played upon them. 
 The magnificent twin towers, enormous masses of masonry 
 completely covered with all the delicate designs known to 
 the pointed style of architecture, seem to confront the whole 
 
COLOGNE CATHEDRAL. 289 
 
 world in their glorious ambition. Upward 500 feet they 
 are to go, each ending in a massive cross whose true meas- 
 urements, as viewed from the pavement, will actually stag- 
 ger the imagination. 
 
 In the morning I entered the portals, and was appalled. 
 The size, rather than the richness, overcame me. From 
 the galleries the columns looked slender as they shot up into 
 the feeble light hundreds of feet above, and as for the mul- 
 titude of people on the floor, they were dwarfed into chil- 
 dren. This gorgeous offering to Christ is not only the 
 pride of Germany, but of all the human race ; for all ought 
 to rejoice that such edifices can be created on earth. 
 Massive, wonderful, and mysterious is this temple of Co- 
 logne. And yet, the longer I studied the interior the more I 
 thought its great size demanded something to dwarf it : a 
 grand altar might accomplish the result, because it seemed 
 to me that there was too much unoccupied space to bring 
 out an agreeable symmetry. The exquisite glass is like the 
 paintings of the masters in its perfection; and yet, with its 
 numberless panes, the sun does not have a full control of 
 the broad pavement. Dimly religious is the encroaching 
 light as it streams through the layers of ascending dust and 
 smoke so high above. It is to be regretted that the houses 
 adjacent to the cathedral press so close to its sides as to 
 cut off a good prospective view, thus preventing one from 
 realizing the complete elegance and grandeur of either the 
 western front or the sides. In this respect the Gothic 
 pile in Milan possesses a great advantage. 
 
 Relics are so plentiful throughout Europe that it did not 
 enter my mind to inspect those belonging to this cathedral ; 
 but I understand one of the chapels contains the bones of 
 the magi, brought from the East by the Empress Helena. 
 It is not every day that one may contemplate the remains of 
 natural-born wiseacres. In this degenerate era a lifetime 
 13 
 
29O AALESUND TO TETl/AN. 
 
 does not always suffice to develop wisdom in the minds 
 of men. Then there is another church in Cologne whose 
 precincts are said to contain the bones of many thousand 
 virgins — an enviable spectacle, no doubt ; but by the neces- 
 sity of time-tables, I was obliged to forego the pleasure of 
 that interview. 
 
 Coblentz possesses many claims to being handsome, and 
 I rested there a day to look at its charms. The river rushes 
 ambitiously past, and the bridge of boats kept swaying in 
 the current, until I feared it might break and be whirled 
 down the stream. This bridge arrangement afforded me 
 considerable pleasure, and I watched the method some time 
 without finding out how the draw was made. The first 
 thing one sees is three pontoons cutting loose from the oth- 
 ers and floating into the river, leaving a big gap through 
 which steamers pass ; then, by some machinery, the accom- 
 modating boats are brought back into position, and the hur- 
 rying crowds rush over in forgetfulness of the whilom chasm. 
 Across the Rhine, mounted on a lofty hill, rests the gigan- 
 tic Fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, guarding the river with a 
 never weakening vigilance. The day I spent in Coblentz 
 was so unpropitious that I could get no view from its para- 
 pets, but I saw how powerful were the works and the ord- 
 nance. 
 
 The dream of sailing up the Rhine received a severe 
 shaking up ; for a misty drizzle set in, and kept setting in, 
 until after our boat passed Bingen, making the beautiful 
 hills and their eyrie-like castles indistinct and uncertain in 
 the gray clouds, and casting a pall of disappointment over 
 the eager tourists who had so long looked forward to the 
 pleasures of this day. Although the weather was inclement, 
 still I saw many a lovely angle in the river, vineyards whose 
 products go to the uttermost parts of the earth, picturesque 
 towns huddling the green slopes, and grim ruins whose 
 
WIESBADEN. 291 
 
 crumbling walls have been the theme of song and story. 
 Above all, the wooded hills gave a semi-wildness to the 
 country, and helped on the romance of the Rhine. 
 
 Bingen, with its association of the soldier in Algiers, did 
 not seem the ideal birthplace likely to be chosen by a poet : 
 why not Oberwesel or St. Goar? — but these are not eupho- 
 nious names, although their surroundings are exquisitely 
 varied. 
 
 I left the boat at Biebrich. My day on the classic river 
 had been almost a failure, and I had to put a black mark 
 against it ; hut I quit repining, and quickly enrolled myself 
 as a temporary resident of gay Wiesbaden. Nassau had a 
 charming capital when she had Wiesbaden with its picture- 
 like aspect — a painting wherein are hills, valleys, rivers, 
 and a luxuriant foliage which seems especially endowed by 
 nature to surpass all others. Situated on the southern 
 slopes of the Tannus, it catches all the warm sun arrows, 
 and turns its back to the malign blasts from the north. No 
 wonder the Romans knew of it, and migrated there to drink 
 in sunshine and boiling waters, and to forget war and vio- 
 lence amid the quiet of the hills. As a watering-place, its 
 popularity is on the increase, and the number of its annual 
 visitors is legion. Some come in earnest, others in hypo- 
 serious pleasure ; but to drink is the proper thing, and 
 drink they do. The morning promenade is indulged in by 
 the entire colony, and the broad, tree-lined Wilhelmstrasse 
 is as vivacious as the army of invalids and professional im- 
 bibers can make it. Here is one of those earthly Meccas 
 where pilgrims come to get rid of the cares of life, to dis- 
 port in the invigorating forgetfulness of the outside world, 
 and to take as much pleasure as the system can properly 
 stand. Gaming has long since been given up, but the great 
 cursal, with its elaborate halls and concert-room, invites the 
 weary to rest, while behind are the bathing-houses where 
 
292 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the amphibiously disposed may plunge and splash according 
 to the accepted canons of hygiene. In front of the cursal is 
 a broad square adorned with very majestic but anhydrous 
 fountains, and leading up to the cursal are colonnades filled 
 with bazars whose windows testify to the surprising ingenu- 
 ity of humanity. These do a large and profitable business 
 during the season, and when autumn threatens to frost their 
 panes, up go the shutters, and the wares seek the Riviera 
 in search of new customers. It is no uncommon experience 
 to be confronted with some particular article in Nice that 
 you examined in Wiesbaden months before, and the reverse 
 is equally true. I prefer Wiesbaden to Baden-Baden or to 
 Ems ; not that it is lovelier or more attractive, but because it 
 seems livelier and more varied in its inducements. All 
 these places are more theatrical than the theatre itself — 
 perhaps not quite so dramatic ; but the people one meets 
 challenge the genius of Balzac. It is a microcosm in its 
 fullest sense. As the faces pass, you read the history of the 
 human family, its vanities and its ambitions, and all the 
 other expressions that separate us from the animals. Sit on 
 a bench in the park beyond the bath-houses, and watch the 
 endless procession, every one different from the other, and 
 all bending their minds to vastly different thoughts. 
 
 Rain broke my journey in several places. At Baden- 
 Baden the ground was so wet that society kept within doors : 
 only a few venturesome persons came into the cursal, and 
 they had an air of disappointment hardly in keeping with 
 their errand at Baden ; — and so at Ems, the abundance of 
 water in the streets discouraged much drinking at the 
 wells. 
 
 But Heidelburg I saw in its most becoming dress, and 
 under the soothing influence of the sun 1 forgot the past. 
 The town is aged, and not particularly interesting, and 
 surely not at all pretty ; but the castle redeems it all, and 
 
HEIDELBURG. 293 
 
 puts a distinguishing stamp on Heidelburg. Castles are 
 not scarce in Germany, but this is alone in its massiveness. 
 The walls are now in decrepitude, but one sees how im- 
 pregnable they originally were ; but more astonishing is 
 the cellar, with a succession of vaulted passages, caverns, 
 and wine caves sufficiently commodious to accommodate a 
 legion of troops and a vineyard of wine. They show 
 strangers a huge tun, which, if made of stone and placed 
 on the Irish coast, might be taken for a martello tower : but 
 this contained the delicious juice which warmed the hearts 
 of the Palatine Electors and made them bold. From the 
 terraces and battlements one gets a marvellously beauti- 
 ful panorama of nature. The exceeding fertility of the 
 country is there unfolded, vineyards dotting hills whose 
 graceful decline ends in the gently moving Neckar visible 
 for miles, winding in and out between the little headlands, 
 till finally it goes out of sight on its way to join the Rhine. 
 The expanse of view is wide, combining all kinds of 
 scenery save that of mountains, which in this section are 
 not to be found. A look down into the town with its intri- 
 cate collection of tiles and rusty houses, with here a steeple 
 and there a small patch of green and rows of trees, and 
 farther away the quaint old bridge with its series of awk- 
 ward arches, is quite as attractive as the greater view reach- 
 ing to the Black Forest, and extending up and down the 
 lovely valley of the Rhine. 
 
 Of course I saw the students, big fellows with an air of 
 superior independence and indifference to public opinion, 
 carrying sticks with which they occasionally beat the un- 
 resisting leaves from overhanging boughs, imagining, no 
 doubt, they were striking off the heads of Frenchmen. I 
 met several whose faces, never too handsome, were seared 
 and seamed as if they had been struck with a red-hot grid- 
 iron, the results of their fiendish duelling. They glory in 
 
294 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 these cris-cross marks of intellectual savagedom, and the 
 more numerous the scars the greater the hero. 
 
 Frankfort will not detain an American many hours, for 
 aside from its history, financial and military, there is lit- 
 tle of interest. Ariadne, by Dannecker, is one of the 
 world's great pieces of statuary, and is well worth stop- 
 ping at Frankfort to see. The arrangement is good, and 
 the light is so intelligently admitted that every feature and 
 vein of both maiden and panther is brought out in living 
 vividness. The red drapery hanging about the walls height- 
 ened the realistic effect, and gave to it a touch of the rarest 
 beauty. 
 
 Making a zigzag journey through small towns and sleepy 
 German villages, I finally reached Strasbourg, one of the 
 most picturesque cities in the Fatherland, though the Ger- 
 man element has not yet had any influence on the towns- 
 people either in one way or in another. The landlord at 
 my hotel became communicative, and found no end of fault 
 with the Prussians. He denounced their political methods, 
 and claimed that taxes had been largely increased and lib- 
 erty largely abridged : in this strain he entertained me for 
 an hour or more. The essence of his plaint was, "We are 
 French, and want to continue so." His wish, I fear, is 
 many years off, if the powerful fortifications environing the 
 city can thwart it. The shrewd Bismarck got the handle 
 side of the jug when he laid hold of this ancient Alsacian 
 capital, and if the French ever recover it they must develop 
 more generalship than they possess at present. 
 
 But no matter what changes politics may bring, the cathe- 
 dral is the glory of Strasbourg, and one of the cathedral glo- 
 ries of the world. It does not conform strictly to anyone 
 kind of architecture, many schools showing their individual 
 peculiarities ; but they are so commingled as to give beauty 
 and richness to the church, and to charm the observer. 
 
STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL. 295 
 
 The facade is dazzlingly ornate, and may be properly stud- 
 ied and admired at some distance down the street leading 
 towards it. It is imposing in form, and appeals strongly to 
 the senses. 
 
 From the platform of the church, which is about half 
 way to the top of the mighty spire, the view is superb, for 
 within the broad horizon one sees the exceeding beauty of 
 the adjacent country, and the guide points out the positions 
 of the besieging army in the stirring days of the war. In 
 the watch-house are relics of the siege ; and firmly embedded 
 in the sullen masonry is a murderous Prussian shell, vivid 
 reminder of the bombardment. My guide was a French- 
 man, and being alone he unfolded his woes just as mine 
 host at the Hotel de Paris had done, but being so far beyond 
 the reach of human ears he evinced a most revengeful spirit, 
 and he emphasized his remarks with stronger French. 
 However, the man was interesting, and I was a willing 
 listener. 
 
 In the corner of the night-shaded cathedral is the famous 
 clock which takes the place of skulls and crossbones, and 
 as the hour of its action draws near the curious gather round 
 in crowds, maintaining a hush broken only by the compar- 
 ing of watches. We are in one of the great sanctuaries of 
 Europe, waiting to behold one of the mechanical wonders 
 of the world, a holy place safe from the intrusion of the 
 wicked ; and yet only a moment before the appointed time 
 a jolly priest mounts a platform, and, after explaining the 
 meaning of the puppets, dryly ends by cautioning us against 
 pickpockets. At this everybody chuckled, while cunning 
 thieves noted the one instinctive movement towards the 
 purses and time-pieces. It affords a rich harvest for the 
 light-fingered gentlemen of Strasbourg and their profes- 
 sional friends from abroad, and if reports are true the cau- 
 tionary father himself has lost his money-bag more than 
 
296 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 once. The clock works unhaltingly, and its ingenious pro- 
 cessions go round with the dignity and historic accuracy 
 that the scenes call for. Even the cock gives forth his sharp 
 clarion with a naturalness that reminds one of early morn. 
 It always pleases the crowd, and if one gets away without 
 getting robbed, the memory of the wonderful clock is well 
 worth cherishing. In case of robbery one must adjust the 
 sense of chagrin to the pleasure, and charge it all to the 
 profit and loss of life. 
 
 Paris is the best starting-place for continental Europe, 
 and thither I again journeyed late in September. Engag- 
 ing lodgings on Rue Cambon, not many steps from the Rue 
 de Rivoli, I began studying Spanish in order more fully to 
 enjoy my winter in the Peninsula. The French seem 
 never weary of giving new names to old streets, and my 
 street was no exception. When in Paris six months before 
 its name was Rue de Luxembourg, but one fine morning 
 the denizens of that quarter stood aghast to behold the word 
 Cambon on all the lamps and buildings where from time 
 immemorial the other name had been. Cambon, to be 
 sure, is a distinguished name, and deserves to be remem- 
 bered, but its sudden substitution caused great commotion 
 for many weeks. When the Bourbons get into power, if they 
 ever do, then down comes the revolutionary Cambon and 
 up goes D'Enghien, or some other name equally sugges- 
 tive. 
 
 During the month I remained in Paris the climate was 
 warm and delightful — exceptional, the oldest inhabitant said ; 
 but he would have said the same if the winds and rain had 
 played constant dirges on the window-panes, for the French 
 have a remarkable adaptability to the exigencies of encom- 
 passing circumstances. The Bois was brilliant with equi- 
 pages every afternoon, and the summer-like air enticed crowds 
 to the evening stroll on the boulevards. The city was to be 
 
pere-la-chaise. 297 
 
 seen at its best, and life was easy to bear. They tell me 
 that Paris is not now what it used to be : it is sad and dull. 
 If this be so, then imperial Paris must have been more sensu- 
 ous than Cleopatra's dream. If this decadence continues, 
 the good American who dies years hence and goes to Paris 
 deserves our utmost commiseration. 
 
 Only a few days before my departure came the second of 
 November, bringing with it All Soul's Day, and all Paris 
 turned cemeteryward. On that day what crowds one sees 
 in the vast cities of the dead ! The largest of these ceme- 
 teries is Pere-la-Chaise, containing one hundred acres or 
 more, and yet so thickly populated that further interments 
 seem out of the question. Were it not for the method em- 
 ployed the portals of this burying-ground would long ago 
 have been closed, but French ingenuity surmounts the diffi- 
 culty of overcrowding by providing the time a body may 
 rest undisturbed. It seems repugnant to us, but they do not 
 mind it, and so the dead remain in the graves one, ten, 
 twenty years, or forever, according to the contract. The 
 poor fare badly, and are tumbled some twenty or thirty of 
 them into one well-like grave, very deep but artistically dug 
 by machinery, so that the sides and ends are smooth to the 
 very bottom, and then each pauper whom nobody owns, 
 secure in his cheap box, is carefully lowered into the pit. A 
 more prosperous class bargain for a ten-year grave, while 
 the wealthy and distinguished are honored by sepulchre 
 a perpetuite. At first I made a grievous mistake in trans- 
 lating the meaning of this word, and thought it signified 
 some popular mortuary benediction ; but I finally made a 
 more literal rendering, and discovered what it meant. Pere- 
 la-Chaise, with its beautiful slopes and graceful hill, might 
 have become beautiful, but the opportunity has gone, until 
 now after so many years of indiscriminate burying the 
 place is ugly and forbidding. The walks are crooked and 
 
 13* 
 
298 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 narrow, and the lawns and flower-beds are not attractive. 
 Adornment has been bartered for space, and those gentle 
 touches that ought to give a charm to God's-acre are want- 
 ing. 
 
 But this cemetery has been used for other than its chris- 
 tened purposes. Its strategic position has often made it a 
 battle-ground. The French and Russians had a terrific 
 strife within its confines, and the atrocities of the Commune 
 spattered blood over its tombs. When I visited it on All 
 Souls' Day the troops were in full force, although their mis- 
 sion was to keep the mass of people in motion ; otherwise 
 the small avenues would have been choked to suffocation. 
 Many, like myself, went from curiosity ; while many more, 
 bearing great wreaths and crowns of immortelles on their 
 arms, were bent on the solemn errand of decorating the 
 graves. Crowds gathered at the portals of the favored 
 dead, such as Rossini, Raspail, Scribe, Baron Taylor, Rol- 
 lin, the Generals Lecomte and Clement-Thomas, Thiers, 
 and others, remaining long enough to deposit a wreath or 
 to fling in a calling-card. This leaving one's card on the 
 floor of the little mausoleums struck me as comical ; so did 
 the custom of writing one's name on the visitor's book, as if 
 the dead kept a hotel ; — but with these things left out my 
 experience would have been less interesting. 
 
 In going through Pere-la-Chaise the history of France for 
 the last century comes up most vividly. Here are the graves 
 of Marshal Ney, unmarked save by a rough scratching on 
 the gate, Kellerman, MacDonald, Davoust, Massena, 
 Foy, all bringing up visions of the great Napoleon ; then 
 LaPlace, Beranger, Racine, David, Talma, the Duke de 
 Morny, the leading gentleman of the third empire, the 
 Rothschilds, Rachel, and lastly the sentimental shrine 
 of Abelard and Heloise, with the recumbent figures of 
 the unhappy lovers reposing beneath the Gothic canopy. 
 
PARIS IN WREATHS. 299 
 
 Choose any path, and its marble fringe will tell chapters in 
 every branch of history, — war, peace, intrigue, love, mur- 
 der, art, poetry : all are gathered within these few acres, 
 making the cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise one of the most 
 famous spots on earth. 
 
 Just outside the large gate is the gloomy pile with two 
 towers known as the prison de la Roquette, where the con- 
 demned await the executioner, and in front is a wide square 
 where the guillotine is erected and the sentence of the law 
 carried out. The neighborhood is high, but the morality is 
 low, and one visit is enough. 
 
 At Montmartre, another great cemetery, I saw a touch- 
 ing illustration of brotherly love. The concourse seemed 
 attracted by a captive balloon attached to a child's grave, 
 and, on inquiry, we were told that a small lad of seven 
 years had brought the trifling plaything to the ceme- 
 tery and tied it to his young brother's grave-stone, so that 
 his little playmate, as he said, might look down from 
 heaven and see that he was still remembered. The boy 
 then ran and found a policeman, and begged him to keep 
 watch so that nobody should carry it away. This simple 
 lesson of the heart brought tears to eyes not used to weep- 
 ing, and even the sturdy guardian of the peace brushed 
 away tears. 
 
 The Phocasan founders certainly chose well when they 
 camped on the amphitheatrical slopes of Marseilles, for the 
 location is well calculated to attract attention. The hills 
 are fertile and highly cultivated ; vineyards, and country 
 houses startlingly white amid the green surroundings, are 
 charming, and lend a truly tropical air to the scene. The 
 docks, however, are the boast of the people ; and they cer- 
 tainly deserve praise, considering the engineering difficulties 
 incurred in their construction, for the sea was evidentlv 
 jealous of its ancient prerogative, and wanted to dash into 
 
300 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the city whenever it pleased. The harbor was full of ships, 
 and the docks crowded with the most outlandish assemblage 
 of men I ever looked upon. Dore might have illustrated 
 the Inferno with sketches made along the basin, where 
 every conceivable type of Oriental, Malay, Greek, Turk, 
 and European sailor lounges or sleeps. But these fellows 
 give Marseilles its commercial power and importance ; they 
 bring with them the merchandise* of the whole world, and 
 vet, looked at separately, half of them would pass for pirates. 
 Their dress is peculiar and their skin dark, so that their 
 origin is at once detected, although for that matter the 
 natives of Marseilles have about them certain evidences of 
 Eastern ancestry mixed with more recent blood. 
 
 The humble people know of Paris only by hearsay ; its 
 real grandeur and glitter they have scarcely dreamed of, so 
 it is but natural for them to compare their town hall, art 
 museum, botanical gardens, and the really beautiful street, 
 the Cannebiere, with the more imposing edifices of the cap- 
 ital. They take an honest pride in pointing out these local 
 wonders to everybody. I believe I saw everything worth 
 seeing, owing to the kindness of a gentleman of the city, 
 who, although he had travelled much, had a large bump of 
 Marseilles esteem. " Is not our Cannebiere more imposing 
 than the Italiens?" " We have not so many shops as they 
 have in Paris, but are they not beautiful?" I assented, as 
 became a willing captive, and allowed him to take me 
 whithersoever he would. We climbed the rocky sides of a 
 sightly hill, upon whose summit stands the stately church of 
 Notre Dame de la Garde with its burnished cross and angel, 
 and beheld spread out at our feet a perfect panorama of 
 land and sea. On the one hand were the musty houses and 
 the uncertain alleys of the old city, and a little beyond, the 
 new city, with gardens and architecture handsomely blend- 
 ed ; on the other, the harbor with its rocky islands and the 
 
MARSEILLES. ^ OT 
 
 blue Mediterranean sparkling in the warm sunshine. Steam- 
 ers bound for India and the Levant cut their path through 
 the unresisting sea, passing on their course that fortress 
 famous alike in history and in romance as the prison of 
 Mirabeau and of the Count of Monte Cristo, the Chateau d'If. 
 Marseilles is one of the great cities of the world, and pos- 
 sesses attractions enough to repay the American who finds 
 himself in the charming belt of the Midi ; but few indeed 
 of my countrymen deem it worth while to pause in their 
 flight and give a day to this busy and cosmopolitan seaport. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 INTO SPAIN. 
 
 THE gouty proprietor of the Marseilles hotel told me 
 that the ride to Barcelona was an easy one, only a 
 matter of a few hours, and that there would be no trouble 
 about sleep or food. That was all he knew about it. The 
 train left early in the evening ; but on that November day the 
 hour was dark, and whatever beauty the scenery may have 
 had in store was lost to me. We rolled into the night, mak- 
 ing frequent stops, changing passengers, and touching towns 
 of historic renown only recognizable by the name on the 
 station walls. In this way Montpellier, Narbonne, Cette, 
 and Perpignan were slighted. Soon after midnight we 
 reached the frontier of Spain, getting a parting glimpse of 
 France in the form of a gen d'arme, who thrust his official 
 moustache and imperial into the car window and demanded 
 either passports or visiting cards. Willing to humor the man 
 I gave a calling card to him, which he vainly essayed to 
 decipher in the waning light of his lantern, moving his 
 thick lips as he spelled out each letter, and looking as sav- 
 age as a cannibal all the while. In due time he finished 
 his lesson in English chirography, and went away apparently 
 satisfied. When this parting inspection was over the shrill 
 whistle took up a frightful refrain, and the train moved 
 slowly through a long tunnel into the land of sunshine and 
 revolution. 
 
 " Estamos eri EspahaV quoth an unkempt Catalan 
 who had been my travelling companion all the way from 
 Marseilles, as he gathered up his boxes and bags. "We 
 
THE SMUGGLER'S PARADISE. 303 
 
 change here," he added, and, politely bidding me adios, 
 descended into the gloom and was swallowed up. The 
 custom examination at this small frontier town was exceed- 
 ingly rigid, and the way in which the contents of trunks 
 and boxes were overturned was indeed sorrowful. The 
 baggage was placed on a long bench, and then the army of 
 officials went at it. Being a lightly equipped traveller, 
 and indifferent to the researches of the gold-laced nuisances, 
 my goods and chattels were scarcely disturbed, — not nearly 
 as much disturbed as the officer was when I forgot to give 
 him a gratuity. Tobacco is the great article of suspicion, 
 and soiled hands felt round everywhere in hope of laying 
 hold of the interdicted weed. But in spite of all this 
 vigilance Spain is the smuggler's paradise, and tobacco 
 is the chief object of his endeavor. Smuggled tobacco 
 can be purchased anywhere in Spain, the only conceal- 
 ment being the manner of sale. Fruit- venders wink at you 
 and slyly offer cigars at a reduced price, or men selling 
 handkerchiefs or ribbons beckon you up mysteriously and 
 display the forbidden reinas from beneath a tangled mass of 
 bright colors. The ingenuity of these rascals is exceedingly 
 amusing, and merits the attention of the smoker. As the 
 government owns the tobacco factories and makes them a 
 monopoly, the conscience of the smuggler ought not to be 
 very keen, a corollary recognized throughout the kingdom. 
 After we had started, a genial Spaniard in my compartment 
 leisurely took down his hat-box from the rack, and proceeded 
 with great unconcern to draw out innumerable cigars from 
 its false sides, treating the whole affair as so much per- 
 sonal gain. I smiled at this operation, and he offered me a 
 fine cigar in return for my expression of admiration. 
 
 Louis XIV was vain enough to believe the Pyrenees were 
 no more, and that as a barrier to French influence their 
 black peaks were not to be taken into serious consideration. 
 
304 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 The stupendous blunder he made becomes obvious as soon 
 as the traveller gets beyond the shadow of the famous 
 mountains. The gods evidently intended that these ranges 
 should shut out Spain from the rest of Europe, and the 
 supernal plan has met with success, for they actually shut 
 out the positive influence of the 19th century, and give to 
 Spain a majesty as solitary as it is grand. Even her peo- 
 ple cling to the past with an amusing tenacity, and when 
 changes become inevitable the public mind receives them 
 reluctantly, or only half adopts them, according to the ex- 
 igency of the case. The Spaniard is a study in ethnology, 
 as I discovered before I recrossed the frontier six months 
 later. 
 
 Spain is bright with pictures. No country is more brill- 
 iantly painted or more warmly colored. But when the 
 northern provinces were mapped out Nature was evidently 
 angry, and bestowed upon them as cruel a climate as she 
 had in her work-box, giving them penetrating chills, frosts, 
 snows, and an abundance of dismal rains, which during 
 many months succeed each other with satanic frenzy. The 
 winter climate of Madrid is as bad as that of tempestuous 
 New England, and yet a vast population surges up and 
 down its streets unmindful of the peril. 
 
 To come from Marseilles into Catalonia is to enter Spain 
 by the back door ; but once in, curious scenes and incidents 
 begin to manifest themselves. Even in the little station at 
 the frontier the difference is perceptible, and I was made 
 to feel that I had come among a new people. France was 
 only a few miles away, but yet the contrast would call for a 
 hundred leagues, so marked was the change. The cleanli- 
 ness of the French table had given way to coarseness both in 
 service and food that did not augur well for the future ; but 
 in due time these indigenous customs became familiar, and 
 peculiarities and want of elegance were accepted as a matter 
 
SPANISH SMOKERS. 305 
 
 of course. To this pass doth constant association bring 
 one. But no amount of practice can blind one to the fact 
 that Spain is the worst cooked country in Christendom, and 
 in order to thoroughly enjoy life there one ought to possess 
 patent digestive organs. The way they smoke while eat- 
 ing is most astonishing, and yet nobody pays the slightest 
 -attention to such practices. They take a spoonful of soup 
 or a mouthful of meat, and follow it up with deep inhala- 
 tions of tobacco ; then they put the burning cigarette on the 
 edge of the table, where it generally manages to scorch the 
 cloth or burn a hole through it, — but such trivial conse- 
 quences generally pass unnoticed. Even the waiters ar- 
 rogate to themselves a liberty of smoking that almost takes 
 away one's breath. They puff during the meal, and con- 
 sider themselves the equal of the guests, nor do they hes- 
 itate about entering into conversation, or to flatly interpose 
 remarks when uncalled for. A more free and easy set of 
 mortals do not exist. When engaged in carrying dishes 
 they put their cigarette behind the ear, just as clerks do 
 their pens, and as a result the unappetizing smell of 
 singed hair commingles with the odor of garlic and smoke. 
 In due time these strange Spanish things lost their sharp 
 edge, but their observance never failed to rouse me to the 
 sense of the ridiculous. But Spain is preeminently a land 
 of surprises, and these domestic pictures ought not to dis- 
 turb one. 
 
 The first coming of the sun disclosed a beautiful land- 
 scape, a veritable garden, where winter touches the plants 
 and vines with a lover's kiss, and never gets angry. We 
 journeyed through a wide and fertile valley, full of culti- 
 vated acres and substantial farm-houses, fortress-like in 
 form and dazzlingly white. About these houses were clus- 
 tered quite a settlement of outbuildings, which gave a busi- 
 ness air to the estate, and a flat contradiction to those pre- 
 
306 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 formed opinions that are so often carried into the land of 
 the Cid. There were evidences of husbandry which I cer- 
 tainly had not looked for, notwithstanding the soil is so kind 
 that it needs but little teasing, and yet on the distant hori- 
 zon snow-clad mountains glistened in the light, adding a 
 beautiful but incongruous setting to the tropical foreground. 
 I noticed this peculiarity many times during the winter. 
 Even as late as May the snow remained on the summits, 
 and defied the lustrous advances of the sun. 
 
 At the stations deputations of uncontaminated if not 
 unsophisticated natives were in attendance to gaze at the 
 train, and to supply novel sights to unaccustomed eyes. 
 They dressed in the Catalonian garb, consisting of short 
 velveteen jackets and waistcoats resplendent with shining 
 brass buttons, flaring trousers held up by the generous folds 
 of red sashes encircling their corpulent waists, and on their 
 feet they wore shoes made of straw. Their dark heads 
 were covered with large rimmed hats, and from their 
 mouths issued incessant clouds of smoke. As an additional 
 article of dress the men carried folded shawls over their 
 shoulders, but I do not remember ever to have seen them 
 put to use. The women were more lightly clad than the 
 men, wearing nothing on their heads save the graceful man- 
 tilla. In and about Barcelona the men cover their heads 
 with a baglike cap, whose superfluous folds droop over their 
 shoulders and serve as a pillow for the noonday siesta. 
 
 The train never essayed a speed suggestive of danger, 
 but kept on its way with a serenity of movement quite 
 aggravating. My introduction to the travelling public 
 was fruitful in amusement and instruction, all of which 
 I turned to account in my subsequent wanderings. The 
 Spaniard is not so niggardly as he is poor, therefore he 
 does things which at first seem parsimonious and selfish ; 
 but this disappears on acquaintance, and in its place comes 
 
SPANISH GENEROSITY. ^°1 
 
 a degree of fellowship quite commendable. I found the 
 Spaniards polite and kindly disposed, and ever willing to 
 assist me in my perplexities. They have a habit of dividing 
 or offering to divide their lunch with you, but dictates of 
 prudence and charity often compel you to decline the gen- 
 erosity. In the compartment on that first morning in Spain 
 this was done several times, and each time the generous 
 offerer had the satisfaction of seeing his food uncondition- 
 ally accepted by the hungry passengers. Fat sandwiches, 
 suspicious sausages, and flasks of red wine were passed 
 round to the chorus of muchas gi'atias, and an era of good 
 feeling overcame everybody. 
 
 If evidence were required to prove that the Catalans were 
 not typically Spanish, the tottering bull-ring on the outskirts 
 of Barcelona furnishes it. In no place in Spain did I see 
 the national arena in so dilapidated and forlorn a condition 
 as here in the big commercial city by the sea. Elsewhere, 
 brick or granite or iron enters into the construction, but 
 in the capital of Catalonia the temporary expedient of wood 
 was employed, and a sorry-looking structure it was. This, 
 then, might be accepted as proof positive that ethnology did 
 not recognize the two races as one. 
 
 But aside from this slaughter-pen testimony, the activity 
 and business aspect of Barcelona seemed out of place, for 
 really the city is strongly suggestive of Manchester and Liv- 
 erpool. Lofty factory chimneys, like mile-stones in an age 
 of progress, were outlined against the sky, and in the har- 
 bor, lazily tossing on the tide, lay black hulls from beyond 
 the seas. 
 
 At the railway station there was a hurrying and business- 
 like chaos that brought back reminiscences of America, 
 only to be sadly wounded by the ubiquitous custom offi- 
 cer, whose insatiable sense of duty was only appeased by 
 a gratuity which he pocketed as if it revolted him. The 
 
308 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 hotel porter stood by while I made this mercenary invest- 
 ment, and on inquiry informed me that he deemed it neces- 
 sary, as it tended to hasten matters. I gained thereby a 
 half hour in getting to the hotel. 
 
 . The popular name for Spanish hotels is ^uatro naciones, 
 — four nations, — and one finds them in almost every goodly 
 sized town in the kingdom. Inn nomenclature seems de- 
 voted to this appellation. I put up at the Barcelona hotel 
 of that name, and considered it as good as any hotel in 
 Spain, unless it was the hotel de la Paz in Madrid. The 
 fare was wholesome, the cigarette smoking somewhat di- 
 minished, and the prices reasonable. My windows looked 
 out on the Rambla, and from my balconies the harbor was 
 in plain view. 
 
 The Spanish hotel system is a compromise between our 
 own and the straight European — meals and bed comform- 
 ing to the American mode, while soap, attendance, and 
 lights follow the European plan. I soon found out that 
 the landlords would make almost any arrangement with 
 travellers by which everything was included at so much a 
 day, and the bargain once made was not departed from. 
 If Edmund Burke had travelled in Hispania, he never 
 would have declared he could not t; haggle with merit." 
 As the prices are not posted in the rooms, there is no re- 
 course but to inquire and to haggle. 
 
 Hamilcar, the stern and inexorable hater of Rome, found- 
 ed Barcelona. But few indeed are the traces of his era, or 
 even of the later era of the conquering Romans : all has 
 been swept away ; — so, to the searcher after the beautiful or 
 the rare in architecture, the city holds out scarcely an in- 
 ducement. But the great metropolis is a beehive of vivacity 
 and merriment, and all the endeavors of its citizens are bent 
 to that end. The famous Rambla is the artery through 
 which this life-current is constantly flowing, and a gay 
 
THE RAMBLA. 3°9 
 
 scene it presents. It is really a generously wide thorough- 
 fare, extending from the sea-mole to the delightful quarter 
 called Gracia, about two miles distant, and dividing the 
 town almost in the middle. On each side is the street, over 
 which traffic clatters, while the broad space between is given 
 up as a promenade to the people. And there, under the 
 arching shade-trees, generations of Barcelonians have whiled 
 away centuries of pleasure. It is never deserted by the 
 promenaders ; business may be suspended as night ad- 
 vances, and the tinkling bells on the cars may be silent, but 
 the laughter and chatter of nocturnal pilgrims excite sleepy 
 souls to wakefulness long after the morning hours have 
 sounded. But late hours are essentially a national charac- 
 teristic, encouraged perhaps by the midday siesta. In the 
 daytime peasants come in bringing fruit and flowers, which 
 they exhibit on the little benches, and, to lend glad music to 
 the morning, a multitude of singing birds are offered for 
 sale. Crowds move slowly up and down, and small parties 
 meet each other and form a blockade which, for the mo- 
 ment, impedes the good-natured strollers. Here, too, as at 
 a reception, congregate those pretty girls who give soul to 
 Spanish poetry — black-eyed and graceful, but sadly demure 
 at first sight. Cruel dames in solemn black are at their 
 sides, companions and jailers in one, whose function it is to 
 intercept love notes, and to thwart the nicely laid plans of 
 Spanish Romeos. But, thanks to cunning Cupid, these mid- 
 dle-aged women are often victims of the craftiest kind of 
 diplomacy, and then the sad-visaged senorita throws off her 
 mask and becomes very worldly. Harsh-visaged men and 
 lowly laborers are plentifully sprinkled in with the others ; 
 gallants and soldiers contest for favors ; priests with open 
 prayer-books edge through the surging crowd ; all sorts and 
 conditions of life jostle on the Rambla, and give to it a 
 picturesqueness worthy the pencil of Hogarth. 
 
310 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Cafes attain a great size in Spain, and on the Rambla one 
 beholds them in an unrivalled magnificence. How such 
 monstrous institutions flourish is often asked ; but visit 
 them after evening sets in, and an answer is given. Men, 
 women, and children are seated around the little tables* 
 drinking chocolate, sipping ices, and munching cubes of 
 sugar. Some are talking at the top of their voices, others 
 are lost in abstraction over a game of dominoes. Cafe life 
 makes up for the home fire-side, and whole families congre- 
 gate to pass the evening, believing, no doubt, that the smoke- 
 disordered room, with its cracked orchestra and mixed 
 assemblage, is a blessing for which they ought to be thank- 
 ful. During the day, however, these great halls are as be- 
 reft of life as country grave-yards, and the army of servants 
 dwindles into a few lazy, siesta-addicted fellows whose 
 lethargy seems phenomenal ; but no sooner does the clock 
 chime out its magical six, than the crowd begins to 
 come, and two hours later the tables are taken, and strident 
 conversation and music are comically intermingled. Then 
 the waiters become lively, and rush about with glasses 
 whose contents range from counterfeit coffee to revolutionary 
 cognac. As if prescribed by law, each cup of coffee is ac- 
 companied by four cubes of sugar ; and it is a common sight 
 to see dignified gentlemen sweep the saccharine lumps left 
 by careless neighbors into their pockets, then, flinging the 
 folds of their capes over their aristocratic shoulders, march 
 out with the majesty of grandees. Cafes answer to club- 
 houses, and men frequent their favorites with a lover's reg- 
 ularity, seldom missing a night unless absence from town 
 or sickness prevents. Once ascertain a man's cafe, and the 
 chances of finding him there are very good. At midnight 
 comparative silence reigns, although the night-owlish pro- 
 pensities of the youth compel some cafes to keep open every 
 hour in the twenty-four. 
 
NEWSPAPERS AND LOTTERIES. 3H 
 
 Newspapers and lotteries are closely allied to the Spanish 
 soul : everybody reads the one, and everybody invests in the 
 other. The number of newspapers astonished me, for their 
 name is legion. All shades of opinion are expressed : comic 
 journals especially taking cruel liberties with private affairs. 
 The chief qualifications of an editor in Spain would seem to 
 be accuracy of aim and dexterity of thrust. Lotteries spring 
 into existence on the slightest provocation. If a bull-ring, a 
 school, a hospital, a church, or any other worthy undertaking 
 needs funds, a lottery is started and the public are requested 
 to help the scheme along. Highly colored posters announce 
 the terms and chances of the caridad de yesu Cristo, or 
 that of Madi-e de dios, and quick sales follow. Verily, 
 tobacco, sleep, and gambling are the Spaniard's trinity. 
 
 Barcelona is not a perfect health resort for those sorely 
 afflicted, although, for invalids tolerably strong, the city and 
 its surroundings offer many favorable inducements. The 
 climate is more variable than in Andalusia, but the vexing 
 winds are mixed with sunshine. There is always something 
 to do in Barcelona, whereby one may forget one's ailments. 
 Let the day take care of itself, and let the splendid opera 
 take care of the night ; for in no city is music more culti- 
 vated : not even in the capital can one listen to the sublime 
 compositions as they are rendered in the famous Liceo. 
 
 All Spanish cities are interesting to Americans, and as 
 the first in the list old Barcelona gave me a good introduc- 
 tion. The new and the old parts of the town show the 
 marvellous changes that are gradually overcoming these 
 ancient cities : the former is scarcely Spanish, while the lat- 
 ter is precisely as you expected to find it. Broad streets, 
 clean and straight, with high French apartment houses, bal- 
 conies, windows, and concierges' lodges, greet the eye in 
 strolling along the more elevated part of the city known as 
 Gracia. Everything is modern : even the people seem dif- 
 
312 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ferent from those on the Rambla only a few minutes distant. 
 This is the fashionable quarter, where the gentry ride horse- 
 back, or roll along in handsome carriages, on their way to 
 the pretty park beyond. 
 
 In grim contrast is the other city where shops and drink- 
 ing cellars abound, and where the lower classes swarm in 
 slothful idleness. The crookedness of the narrow lanes is 
 incredible ; they wind and twist as if in agony, and the high 
 houses, with their bulging fronts and innumerable balconies, 
 interrupt the sunlight in its honest endeavors to succor man- 
 kind. Pestilence in hideous form makes his home in these 
 squalid and neglected spots, and rejoices every decade in 
 seeing his fearful work consummated. But these dark cor- 
 ners must be visited if one would know 7 Barcelona as it is 
 when unwashed and uncultivated. The populace swarm in 
 the streets, and the houses seem to be deserted ; children 
 especially find enjoyment in blockading everything, and 
 juvenile Barcelona is beyond the guesses of the census-taker. 
 What vigorous vocal organs they are endowed with, and 
 what liberties they take in exercising them ! The city com- 
 merce is largely carried on with donkeys and mules that 
 crawl slowly along, compelling everybody to seek refuge in 
 friendly doorways or gaping cellars, for to remain in the 
 alley would be productive of scratches, crushed toes, and 
 lacerated garments. Occasionally two teams meet, and then 
 the laggard atmosphere is enlivened with blasts of Catalo- 
 nian profanity which call the neighborhood to the scene. 
 Before the matter is settled a hundred voices speak at once. 
 Angry are the expressions, and threatening are the attitudes ; 
 revolution seems imminent; but in course of time the late 
 guardian of the peace appears, an armistice is called, a 
 compromise is effected, and one team changes its course 
 and is hauled out backwards. The mules, which by the 
 by are shaved in criss-cross streaks, take kindly to such an 
 
STREETS AND SHOPS. 313 
 
 arrangement, and wink sarcastically at their drivers during 
 the lulls in the storm. 
 
 The ground floors are used for carrying on small trades, 
 such as joiner-work, chair-making, and other humble oc- 
 cupations ; but almost every tenth door is a wine-shop, 
 or bodega, as it is called, where every kind of thirst 
 receives attention. The requirements of the dwellers 
 thereabouts must be recognized : hence the number of 
 wine-troughs. The bodega is as Spanish as the bull-ring, 
 and is more tenacious of life than the throne itself. It is a 
 cellar, varying in size, furnished with a generous assortment 
 of casks and barrels arranged in tiers, and marked with 
 enigmatic characters easily deciphered by the patrons. 
 There is usually a bar on which the tipple is served, but 
 there are no chairs to encourage loafing. This is a com- 
 mendable feature. The drinks are drawn directly from the 
 wood by an unkempt man or a very dirty boy, who never 
 fails to keep his cigarette going during the serving process. 
 Men and women meet in these cellars — some pretty women, 
 too, meet there — and drink each others' health in weak wines. 
 
 There is one narrow, sun-impoverished street leading 
 from the Rambla, whose history is written in silver charac- 
 ters, for it was once the resort of the ingenious silver-smiths 
 whose designs were the pride of Spain. Much of this is 
 changed now — trade has sought better haunts ; still, a few 
 old-fashioned workers remain to allure the passer-by with 
 their glistening charms. The Palais Royal of Barcelona, 
 counterpart of that in Paris, a structure of shapely facades 
 and broad porticos, is the place to go if one wishes to see 
 the filagree-work of Barcelona. The little shops are like 
 so many mines, and each one shows oft' its treasures by the 
 light of an Aladdin's lamp. 
 
 The Campo Santo is one of the sights, and thither I went 
 one day. Its multum-in-ftarvo economy gave it a grim 
 
 14 
 
314 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 interest, as it was so original. The enclosure is not 
 large, but high walls shut out the world, and make in- 
 tersections of the interior. It is a sepulchral labyrinth, 
 whose winding walks are thickly fringed with dead men. 
 The gravelled paths are carefully looked after, and little 
 oases of flowers gladdened the desert of death. The bodies 
 are not, as a usual practice, buried in the earth, but are 
 thrust into oven-like apertures in the thick walls, there to 
 remain for varying periods. A marble slab placed over 
 the hole records the name and age of the deceased, to- 
 gether with highly conceived eulogistic verses, photo- 
 graphs, locks of hair, or tender mementos deposited in 
 glass cases, where the curious may regale their curiosity 
 by what might be termed documentary evidence. Burials 
 are conducted in this way : When the body is received, it is 
 placed in the waiting-room until all is ready, — for there are 
 many burials every day ; then the stout attendants bear it 
 on a stretcher to the yawning hole. The priest on duty 
 performs the last offices, and retires to prepare for the next 
 comer. A few male friends of the deceased stand by to see 
 that everything is properly carried out, for women never 
 attend at the grave, and the men that do take matters very 
 unconcernedly. At the interments I saw the bodies were 
 placed in the upper tiers, which necessitated a step-ladder. 
 This was brought, and a workman ascended and began 
 loosening the mortar that held the slab in place. This was 
 quickly done, and the sealed grave lay open. Within was 
 a coffin of some years' occupancy, which had to be taken 
 out to make room for the new tenant. Instead of doing 
 this, the Catalonian undertaker knocked off' the oval-shaped 
 cover and flung it on the ground, where willing feet stamped 
 it out flat and passed it back to be laid over the mouldering 
 body. The new coffin and its contents were hoisted up and 
 shoved in over the old one ; then the man on the step, after 
 
INDUSTRY AND PLEASURE. 315 
 
 lighting a fresh cigarette, proceeded to replace the marble 
 slab by liberal dashes of mortar. In a few minutes the 
 work was finished, leaving no evidence of what had been 
 done save the pieces of mortar whitening the ground. No 
 flowers are strewn, no tears are shed : nothing save the 
 invisible sorrow of loved ones lingers about such a grave. 
 
 The sounds of laboring industry are heard even at the 
 portals of the cemetery. Cotton factories seem out of place, 
 but there they are in true business-like array. In spite 
 of their English and Scotch overseers, there exists that 
 unmistakable Spanish drawl which no amount of British 
 example can wholly overcome ; for, say what one will, the 
 blue skies of Hispania do not take kindly to the smoke of 
 the lofty chimneys, and, moreover, nobody goes to Spain to 
 see looms and spindles. 
 
 The broad sea mole, extending from the custom-house to 
 the toy-like suburb of Barceloneta, or Little Barcelona, is 
 very popular with all classes, especially towards evening, 
 when they come out, and, promenading up and down, show 
 their characteristics without reserve. The trouble about 
 the mole is its want of side railings, and it is no infre- 
 quent thing for the early policeman to find some dead or 
 badly bruised unfortunate who has either met with an acci- 
 dent, or been cruelly pushed off for revenge or plunder. I 
 know my friends warned me not to go there alone after 
 dark. 
 
 High above the harbor, perched on the pinnacles, is the 
 fortress of Monjuich with its garrison of 10,000 men, and 
 its big guns trained on the city below. The Spaniards 
 regard this with intense pride, never for the moment believ- 
 ing it could be taken ; but crazy Peterborough accom- 
 plished the great feat, and there is no telling what future 
 skill and dash may do. After walking up its steep sides, I 
 appreciated the Spaniards' feeling of security. The works 
 
316 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 are Herculean, and command both land and sea ; but the 
 garrison in times of revolutionary disturbances is always in 
 danger of recreancy to the regal standard : so Monjuich may 
 not be so impregnable after all. 
 
 One of the incomprehensible but inexorable Spanish 
 things is the unearthly time-tables. One may speedily get 
 used to rancid butter and garlic, but never to the matutinal 
 auto-de-fe of the railways. The snail-natured train antici- 
 pates the sun in its departure, and keeps the unpractised 
 traveller in an uncomfortable state all day long. However, 
 to people who never think of going to bed until early morn 
 these hours are as agreeable as those immediately after 
 breakfast, and so I suppose the reason lies therein. 
 
 While in Barcelona a correspondent of one of the great 
 American dailies persuaded me to go to King Alphonso's 
 wedding, and together we started for Madrid. The engine 
 puffed its steam in the chill morning air, but neither train- 
 man nor engine indicated the least impatience. All concern- 
 ed took matters calmly : the only hurry at all was on the part 
 of the passengers, and when they found how unavailing it 
 was they desisted. Among other pieces of baggage, I car- 
 ried a lunch-basket, — for Spanish car-rides are likely to as- 
 sume the pleasures of a picnic party at any moment ; but 
 the ugly official at the gate refused admittance until I 
 showed him its contents, — for food is subject to local duties 
 in Spain. He then actually demanded blackmail, and had 
 it not been for my limited Spanish he would have succeeded 
 in enriching himself a peseta's weight ; but he let me pass, 
 and, to add insult to injury, begged my pardon. This was 
 as comical as anything I met during six months' sojourn. 
 
 In most countries of Europe a fee well invested either 
 works wonders, or restores one's equanimity ; but in Spain 
 the chances are that it will do neither. A financial under- 
 standing between one's self and the guard often amounts to 
 
TRAVELLING CUSTOMS. 317 
 
 nothing more than a gratuity without a gratification. The 
 gold-strapped guard takes the silver and gives assurances 
 that the compartment is entirely "at the disposition of the 
 caballero," but he is no sooner out of sight than the door is 
 flung open, and one's soul is harassed by the gruff buenos 
 dias of intruding natives. Remonstrance is useless, and 
 before a plan of resistance can be formed, the places once 
 thought so sacred are filled with bundles, boxes, baskets, 
 hair trunks, panniers of merchandise, and, strangely enough, 
 Yankee bandboxes might be enumerated among the per- 
 sonal property of the restless Catalan. The charge for 
 baggage put into the van is so exorbitant that the frugal 
 provincials keep theirs with them, regardless of the incon- 
 venience it may occasion others. I never laid it up against 
 them : it is their way, and they mean no disrespect. When 
 the company had arranged their numerous packages, they 
 glared at each other most suspiciously ; then, wrapping their 
 capes closely about their faces, closed their black eyes and 
 were at rest. I did likewise, and slept until the warm sun 
 woke me. 
 
 Our course lay southerly, every league bringing us nearer 
 to that perfection of earth and sky which the Spaniards say 
 the gods envy ; and surely they ought to envy it, for there 
 flowers bloom and birds sing even in mid- winter. The soil 
 was of a red tinge, made so, perhaps, by the outpouring of 
 infidel blood in ages gone, and appeared anxious to yield 
 return for the sacrifices of the old warriors. Gnarled olive 
 trees, like Calibans of the forest, could not affect the exceed- 
 ing loveliness of the scene. Flourishing vineyards and 
 yellow orange groves dotted the landscape, and green fields 
 swept majestically along the valleys and over the gentle 
 hills. Palm trees looked down on the passing train, and 
 aloes of gigantic growth were on all sides. Instead of 
 building a fence along the railway, these productive plants 
 
3l8 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 are set out, and their sturdy forms answer just as well. 
 Truly the horn of plenty has been thoroughly shaken over 
 Valencia and Andalusia ; nothing has been denied them ; 
 even the skies never seem to harden. A saint once said, 
 so the story goes, that if these provinces only had good gov- 
 ernment, heaven itself would be deserted. This is certainly 
 a great compliment, but I do not think the saint spoke 
 falsely. The white castle-like houses set in the midst of 
 this garden land give an air of dignified repose to the coun- 
 try, and called to mind how the wild knight of La Mancha 
 mistook them for enchanted palaces. 
 
 Throughout the day these brilliant gems of nature kept 
 passing and repassing, and then evening, not to be outdone, 
 brought her splendid moon to replace the gold with silver. 
 In the full flood of moonbeams straggling Valencia grew 
 apace until it became a city, and a typical Spanish city it 
 is. Even to the back-bone it is Spanish, for, just as we 
 neared the station, the shadow of the new bull-ring fell 
 across our way, and I quickly understood what that great 
 heavy circle betokened. To reassure myself, I touched the 
 driver of the tartana, and asked him if bull-fighting still 
 flourished in Valencia. The pitying look he gave me almost 
 brought tears to keep it company. He moved his cigarette 
 to one side of his Iberian mouth, and hoarsely exclaimed, 
 Hombrel This simple word has several meanings, accord- 
 ing to the way it is pronounced, and he gave to it the ex- 
 treme of surprise. I informed him that I had come from 
 Barcelona ; whereupon he said, — " They are Frenchman in 
 Barcelona and are cowards, but we have just built a plaza 
 de tor os to hold 15,000 spectators, and so have other cities 
 in Spain." Thenceforth such questions on my part were 
 unnecessary, for wherever I went the arena was one of the 
 first sights I saw. 
 
 The station was as noisy as a broker's board, and some- 
 
THE TARTAN A. 319 
 
 what perplexing, especially when a score of porters and 
 drivers assailed our ears with their jargon of sounds. We 
 escaped, and making our path to the yard hired a tartana 
 and started for the hotel. Thanks be to the powers, the 
 vehicle called the tartana is indigenous to Valencia. Its 
 ubiquity would entail woes insufferable. It has two wheels, 
 and is drawn by one horse. It is covered, the top being 
 oval in form and made of tarred canvas stretched on bent 
 frames, while the bottom of this contrivance has the same 
 form though made of straw. Imagine an egg divided into 
 two parts at its least diameter and given two wheels, and the 
 tartana ought to assume a certain distinctness to the mind's 
 eye. The upper part is for the passengers and the lower is for 
 baggage. At the end is a small aperture supposed to be a 
 door, while at the front is a hole which serves as a win- 
 dow, and from these extremes extend two long benches 
 upon which passengers sit and receive excruciating supple- 
 ments to the wearisome ride. The tartanero or driver, 
 armed with a whip, perches himself on the left shaft, and 
 in a loud voice, which he uses with indiscriminate vigor, 
 urges on the torture. The horse plunges madly through the 
 narrow, ill-lighted street, passers-by darting out of sight 
 like figures in the pantomime, the imprisoned passengers 
 meanwhile mumbling fervent prayers that disaster may be 
 averted. 
 
 The route from the station to the hotel must have run 
 through a majority of Valencia's back-yards and alleys, 
 and the manner of driving intensified the topography, for 
 our Jehu never thought of turning corners until it was 
 almost too late ; then, regaining his presence of mind, he 
 twitched one of the clothes-line reins, taking the horse off 
 his feet, and slewing the helpless victims into each other's 
 faces. When these equestrian feats had roused us to a state 
 of insubordination, we suddenly stopped with a shock that 
 
320 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 set our teeth chattering, and the long day's journey came to 
 an end. 
 
 The noise of the tartana brought the people of the house 
 to welcome us, and a confused intermingling of commands 
 and playful gibes rose upon the still air. The baggage was 
 thrown into a common pile, and then came the appalling 
 information that the house was full. But who ever knew a 
 hotel so full that it could not take one more ? So it was in 
 this case. The house was at our disposition if we would only 
 occupy a room in common. After a hasty council we con- 
 cluded to accept the generous offer, and make the best of it. ' 
 We carried up our own bags and shawls, the porter preced- 
 ing us with a sickly lamp which died out several times dur- 
 ing the trip, and each time to the accompaniment of choice 
 epithets. The chamber into which we were ushered was not 
 a model of sumptuousness, but heavy eyelids take slight no- 
 tice of surroundings. The one little window looked into the 
 narrow street through which the sereno, as the night watch- 
 man is called, perambulated and called the hours and the 
 state of the weather — a barbarous custom when one wants 
 to sleep ; but it is of Spain, Spainy, and had to be endured. 
 
 Valencia is the legendary city of Spain, and a grand place 
 it is for such things to flourish. Built on a plain with a 
 generous river gliding through it, and bathed by the warm 
 waves of the sea, I do not wonder that people of fashion 
 think as highly of Valencia to-day as did the warriors of 
 old. It boasts of those marine charms that go to make the 
 popular watering-place, and during the season the alameda 
 is as brilliant as the parquet of the opera. At first the 
 crooked streets, not over clean, rather repel the stranger, 
 but after all some of these labyrinthian by-ways are full of 
 life and interest, even if they are twisted and soiled. In 
 olden times they were the resorts of knights and ladies 
 whose fame and beauty are preserved in verse, but now an 
 
ANCIENT PALACES. 321 
 
 entirely different class inhabit them, and the poets no longer 
 sing there. But aristocratic indeed must have been that 
 neighborhood once. Often I stopped to admire the pe- 
 culiar ornamentation of house fronts so common in the 
 honored parts of the old town — lavish displays of the sculp- 
 tor's chisel, and happy conceits of painters whose memory 
 has faded even more than their colors. War was the theme 
 of the artists, and it was gloriously depicted. These palaces 
 belonged to high-titled soldiers, whose valor gained for them 
 an immortal renown and- the right to embellish their outer 
 walls with annals wrought in veinless marble. Occasion- 
 ally the modesty of the warrior restrained the sanguinary 
 temperament of the sculptor, and angels and sweet visionary 
 beings mingle with men of iron and blood ; but these liber- 
 ties, softening as was their influence, did not seem to agree 
 with the temper of the age, and by far the larger number 
 of the houses were adorned by bas-reliefs representing the 
 good old Spanish onslaught, with heaps of infidel dead in 
 the background. Mothers bring their children there to 
 teach them their country's history, and the lazy, close 
 cropped Valencian may feel his blood course faster as he 
 contemplates the graven facades. It was worse than use- 
 less to try to find out the meaning of the allegorical display, 
 for passers-by knew absolutely nothing ; not even the own- 
 er's name was stamped in their dull pates. 
 
 When religious hands piled up those grand Spanish 
 cathedrals they made a sad mistake in not keeping a large 
 open space about them, so that their grandeur might im- 
 press the beholder ; but they neglected their duty, and 
 allowed the very walls to be encroached upon by a spider- 
 like net-work of ugly houses and squalid lanes. It is so 
 about every cathedral in Spain, and will so remain to the 
 end of time. 
 
 Thus the difficulty of finding one's way to these cathe- 
 14* 
 
322 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 drals is considerable, for a Spaniard's idea of direction is ab- 
 solutely compassless, and one needs a big bump of locality 
 to successfully penetrate the interior of these confused cities. 
 
 The increase of beggars is the sure evidence of the prox- 
 imity of a church, for they thrive wonderfully in those 
 sacred localities, and multiply if occasion calls for it with 
 real geometric ratio. No sooner had an abrupt angle dis- 
 closed the handsome towers than the moving contingent 
 made for me, some on crutches, some led, others crawling 
 on all fours, while a few healthy fellows actually began a 
 sprint race for my charity. Wicked English' speaking 
 travellers, pestered by these attentions, might in three words' 
 consign them to regions of eternal heat, but the chances are 
 they would not accept the invitation. There is a better 
 remedy. Say to them, Vayan ustades con dios — God be 
 with you — and they will separate, and let you pass. This 
 simple expression has great power over them : it acts like 
 the devil's eye, and respite is assured. 
 
 On the broad steps of this splendid church mendicants 
 shake tin cups in your face — harsh jangle for such a spot ; 
 but they are the beggars' castanets, and are played all over 
 the land. Eighteen generations have passed since rude 
 hands laid the foundations of this justly celebrated cathe- 
 dral, and it begins to show the marks of age in its black- 
 ened walls and irregular outlines. The darkness of the 
 interior was deeper by reason of the cloudy sky, so that 
 I picked my way about with caution for fear of colliding 
 with some kneeling penitent,— for they drop in their tracks 
 and go through their devotions unmindful of profane pil- 
 grims like myself. In the obsure light the proportions, 
 which are very beautiful, came out imperfectly, but I saw 
 enough to admire even under such disadvantages. The 
 monotonous chants rolling from the gloom-bound choir 
 added a strong dramatic effect to the mysterious solitude 
 
THE MARKET-PLACE. 323 
 
 which held this temple for its own — a silence so profound 
 that it seemed to presage some terrible event which the fut- 
 ure had been holding in store for those present, an impend- 
 ing calamity such as one dreads when the heavens suddenly 
 become black and shadows fall upon the earth. Over the 
 rich portals of a chapel a chain is festooned, which took 
 on the frightful convolutions of a great serpent as I saw it 
 in the dim light ; but the loquacious verger in his trailing 
 gown touched the harmless links with his long staff, and 
 then went on to recite its history. It literally formed many 
 a link in Spanish annals. 
 
 In order to reach Madrid in time for the royal nuptials 
 my stay had to be brief, and I regretfully came away, fol- 
 lowed by a procession of hideous crones who begged for 
 money. From the solemn precincts of the church to the 
 noisy stalls of the market was quite a change, but I enjoyed 
 it. The Valencia market is a quaint picture, highly colored 
 and strangely embellished, unique in its peculiarities and 
 strong in its individuality. There one sees Moorish blood 
 if there is a drop left in the world. Those swarthy fellows, 
 with half shaved heads bound with red turbans, are no more 
 Spanish than Indian. They may be the descendants of 
 those skilled invaders that built the Alhambra, if they are 
 no more, but certainly they have some relationship with the 
 hosts that fell before the Christian lances. Men and women 
 clad in picturesque costumes mingle in dizzy confusion, and 
 vie with each other in extolling the merits of their merchan- 
 dise. It is a babel of coarse voices, and what they say none 
 but the trained ear can understand. The stalls are too few 
 in number to accommodate the crowd, so those that come 
 last proceed to unload their melons and oranges on the 
 pavement, and, practising squatter sovereignty, carry on 
 their sales by loud cries and calls which at first cause the 
 tired donkeys to prick up their ears in surprise. It quickly 
 
324 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 passes away, and the lusty peasant subsides into a semi- 
 quiescent state, only interrupted by an occasional salutation. 
 But the uproar does not soften — it is kept up during the 
 market ; a ceaseless bandying of words agitates the crowd 
 until the last minute. 
 
 This is the orange centre of the world, probably of the 
 universe, where vast pyramids of large yellow oranges are 
 piled up every morning during the season, only to be 
 demolished long before noon. I saw them measure the 
 fruit, which is done by putting hundreds into a bin with a 
 hole in the bottom and then urging them through. Those 
 that go through are small and of an inferior quality ; those 
 that remain are accepted as good. 
 
 In this market-place I saw men sitting at tables with pen 
 and ink in front of them. I found that they were public 
 writers, handy creatures, who make out bills, or dash off 
 love notes for the unlettered swain of the town. What 
 precious secrets those knights of the quill hold, and what 
 irreparable damage they are capable of doing ! 
 
 Outside the massive walls is the new Valencia with its 
 modern houses, and its lovely park extending along the 
 river bank, where a better phase of life is revealed, and 
 where cosmopolitan manners are cultivated in good earnest. 
 
 The glistening river is crossed by several bridges, and be- 
 yond but a short distance is the busy harbor, with its granite 
 moles spreading like two gigantic horns into the sea. 
 
 The inexorable time-table cut me off from many pleasures 
 and sights in this ancient city, but I went away hoping that 
 my return would be merely a matter of a few weeks. But 
 alas for castles built in Spain ! — they are held by no tenure 
 that law recognizes ; they are as unstable as water, and in a 
 moment dissolve and are lost. I did not go back to Valen- 
 cia : my plans underwent a change, and I never saw its 
 frowns and smiles again. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MADRID AND THE ROYAL NUPTIALS. 
 
 IF the gout of Charles V induced him to establish his 
 capital at Madrid, then so much the worse for the gout. 
 Madrid is of forced growth and nourishment. There is no 
 natural kindliness about it : all is harsh and cruel. High 
 above the sea level, set in the midst of a sterile plateau, the 
 capital city of Spain bids defiance to the winds and frosts, 
 and 300,000 loyal citizens help her to do it. Long before 
 Charles's time Madrid possessed a geographical entity. 
 The Moors knew it, and later one of the Henrys used to go 
 there to hunt wild boars. But it first received a national 
 importance under the great emperor and his son Philip. 
 They bestowed their wealth most liberally to enlarging and 
 beautifying its grim and unattractive features, and they kept 
 at their good work until they presented to the world the 
 Madrid as we see it to-day. But view it in any aspect, and 
 one must wonder why such a place was ever selected for 
 the royal court. 
 
 Coming from the serene and soothing influences of the 
 south was a rough change, and when I felt the chilly blasts 
 I did not have to ask why the landscape was so sad and 
 stricken. The evidences of the Spain I left behind were 
 wholly gone : no proof remained that the gardens bearing 
 oranges and roses were within hundreds of leagues. The 
 night had evidently changed the zones. 
 
 At the station the crowd was ambitious to move, and its 
 very ambition impeded everything. It was an extraordi- 
 nary occasion, and all Europe was flocking Madridward to 
 
326 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 attend the king's wedding. At last I secured a 'bus, and in 
 the twinkling of an eye the mad race to the hotel began. 
 The two mules were urged to their utmost, and the break- 
 neck gait they attained was the most startling experience I 
 ever had. To be thrown out and killed was one thing, but 
 to be thrown out and broken up was quite another ; and it 
 was this second fear that troubled me. We leaped through 
 the Prado, rolling from side to side like a ship in a storm, 
 past the Museum and the graceful fountain of Cybele, dash- 
 ing against lesser vehicles, then careening like artillery 
 getting into action, slewing into the Alcala and fetching up 
 on the aggressive curb-stone ; then, regaining a momentary 
 equilibrium, the racers took on another grand spurt that 
 carried us triumphantly into the Puerta del Sol, and to 
 the hotel. In stopping the mad flight, the panting mules 
 were hauled up so short that they actually slid some dis- 
 tance on their haunches. After much parleying the author- 
 ity in charge of the hotel de la Paz assigned me a room 
 with a broad balcony, looking out into the famous square, 
 and I breathed freer. I reached Madrid on Friday morn- 
 ing, and as the marriage was to take place the following 
 day the city was full of strangers and official representatives 
 sent by the crowned heads, many of whom, as I afterwards 
 learned, complained bitterly of the inadequate accommoda- 
 tions. From a private and disinterested point of view, I 
 should say the arrangements made for distinguished guests 
 were about as bad as could be. It seemed to be a rush and 
 a grab so far as some things were concerned, and such prac- 
 tices are not becoming at a king's wedding. 
 
 There was an eye for display both public and private, 
 and decorations were everywhere to be seen. The modest 
 Austrian princess had requested that such temporary and 
 unnecessary finery might be dispensed with, and the sum 
 appropriated be given to the wretched sufferers in inundated 
 
STREET DECORATIONS. 2> 2 1 
 
 Mucia, but the municipality could not dream of such a 
 sacrifice, and the city fairly outdid itself. The window bal- 
 conies furnished a grand chance for gay buntings and flags, 
 and during the festivities they were resplendent with gen- 
 erous folds of orange and red. The effect of this was to give 
 the streets the appearance of many long and irregular 
 streamers, which, under the influence of the windy blasts, 
 were kept in constant motion. The house fronts showed 
 their patriotism by crowns, crosses, escutcheons, and ar- 
 morial bearings, while at night gas-jets vainly essayed to 
 faithfully reproduce these and many other ambitious greet- 
 ings. The attempts were all but blown out by the inexora- 
 ble gusts that swept over Madrid like myriads of invading 
 Saracens. 
 
 The Alcala, the Geronimo, the Arenal, and the other fash- 
 ionable streets radiating from the Puerta del Sol, gathered to 
 themselves the most elaborate endeavors of the decorators, 
 for it was through them that the wedding procession had to 
 pass ; still, in out-of-the-way districts, where humbler people 
 dwelt, little tokens of friendly interest in the national event 
 were not wanting. The Madrilenos evidently took kindly 
 to the nuptials, and hung their banners on their outer walls. 
 When the king led his sweet cousin Mercedes to the altar, 
 Spain was glad ; but this foreign alliance was by no means as 
 popular. The jealous passions were touched, and, although 
 Madrid was arrayed in gay colors, the rest of the country 
 showed no enthusiasm. The young queen, not insensible 
 to this feeling, brought along with her a trusted Austrian 
 physician. The comic journals got hold of this, and rung 
 merry changes on it during the week's hilarities. 
 
 The wedding-day opened most auspiciously. The chill air 
 was kindly tempered by real Andalusian warmth, and a full 
 flood of sunshine welcomed the royal lovers. People were 
 astir early, and when the spirited strains of music made by 
 
328 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the patrolling bands caught the public ear, there was a great 
 rush into the spacious square. The surging mass was ex- 
 ceedingly orderly, and cheerfully obeyed the frequent com- 
 mands to fall back and make room. Indeed, one of the 
 remarkable things that occasion brought to my notice was 
 the complete control which half a dozen mounted policemen 
 seemed to have over the thousands gathered in the square. 
 Perhaps the people made an effort to keep respectful bounds, 
 and thus lightened the labors of the handsome horsemen in 
 scarlet and white. The spectacle as I saw it from my bal- 
 cony was novel and striking. It was the much-heard-of 
 sea of heads, but there was a coloring and a raciness all its 
 own. The cosmopolitan dark suit prevailed, but the brill- 
 iantly lined cape was ambitiously second, and alongside 
 the bell-crowned hat were the wearers of the mantilla and 
 the brigandish red handkerchief, the latter, as bound around 
 rough foreheads, being decidedly conspicuous. As compan- 
 ion-pieces were peasants from the confines of the province, 
 whose home-made garments with long stockings and straw 
 sandals savored of more mediaeval times. They had come 
 from their distant fields to see the sight of a lifetime ; and 
 they departed at night-fall, carrying with them an affluence 
 of knowledge which would cause them to be envied among 
 their neighbors. 
 
 Although the appointed hour was several hundred minutes 
 off, the large streets leading into the Puerta were crowded 
 to their centres with pedestrians going and coming. Every 
 one was good-natured, malice was banished for the day at 
 least, and Carlists and Republicans alike forgot their ambi- 
 tions, and helped to swell the crowd. From the palace 
 almost to the portals of the church of the Atocha the way 
 was lined with troops drawn up in double lines, and a very 
 distinguished appearance they made. The Spanish soldier 
 is generally good-looking, and dresses with evident care, 
 
THE WEDDING PAGEANT. Z 2 9 
 
 and on this historic morning not a button was missing. 
 Even the mules carrying the light artillery showed traces 
 of the curry-comb, and the gay orange and red ribbons flut- 
 tering from their manes testified to their docile patriotism. 
 Eleven was the hour fixed for the start ; but the old clock 
 on the government building across the square, heedless 
 of things terrestrial, had moved close on to noon before 
 the flourish of trumpets down the Calle del Arenal an- 
 nounced the coming of the gorgeous pageant. The people 
 lost their lethargy, and surged against the soldiers, leaving 
 only a passage-way for the procession. It would not have 
 required much imagination to leap back three or four cen- 
 turies to behold a similar spectacle. The order of exercises 
 conformed to venerable customs, and care was taken that 
 the time-honored procedure of the ancient court should be 
 observed. This was the wedding-day of the king, and no 
 higher fete is known. 
 
 The first figure in the pageant was picturesque enough, 
 as he sat astride his horse with kettle-drums at his side. 
 The drummer was aged ; — he had long since passed the 
 meridian of life, but his hands were constantly in motion, 
 and the strange rattle of his drums sounded the royal tocsin. 
 Had this old man been as indispensable as the archbishop, 
 he could not have been more conscious of his identity. But 
 why should he not have deemed it an imperishable renown 
 to lead such a gay cavalcade? Following him was a quar- 
 tette of trumpeters in mediaeval costume, and then came 
 cavaliers bearing maces and other imperial insignia ; then 
 officers of the household, attended by grooms and lackeys, 
 pressed close behind. Twenty-two superb steeds with gold 
 and silver trappings, led by their gaily dressed keepers, 
 caused an audible hum of admiration, for the prancing ani- 
 mals added an honest dignity to the parade, and presumably 
 created a favorable sentiment for their royal master. An- 
 
33° AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 other squadron of splendid uniforms and nodding plumes ; 
 then came the famous court carriages. Sumptuous and 
 massive, these pompous coaches have played their part like 
 creatures of life, and they still continue to act in those mag- 
 nificent Spanish dramas which are the delight of the world. 
 No potentate on earth owns a collection like this, and the 
 Spaniards know it, and are proud accordingly. Half a 
 score of these golden chariots, splendidly equipped, convey- 
 ing high dignitaries, rolled heavily through the human sea, 
 creating genuine enthusiasm by their magnificence. Surely, 
 if the object of such lavishment be to impress the people 
 with the resources and power of royalty, the exhibition 
 served its purpose. Each coach was drawn by six or eight 
 horses led by grooms in royal livery and wearing wigs 
 worthy a lord chancellor, and on the throne-like seat a mortal 
 in dazzling attire was observed, holding the red reins in his 
 gloved hands, and looking for all the world as if he wanted 
 to challenge Solomon to a contest of glory. Four footmen 
 in scarlet coats and breeches, with long white cues dangling 
 down their backs, stood on the rack like so many wax fig- 
 ures, and turned neither to the right nor to the left. 
 
 And yet, after this moving grandeur had disappeared down 
 the Alcala, and I was beginning to reflect upon what I had 
 seen, a loud murmur rose to my balcony, and I wondered 
 what it meant. Another procession, almost a counterpart 
 of the first, was coming into the square. Drummers, trum- 
 peters, heralds, and grandees, caparisoned steeds, and gouty 
 old chariots testifying to ancient glory, and then ex-Queen 
 Isabella. At last, after an absence of ten years, the royal 
 fugitive had returned to Madrid on her son's wedding-day. 
 It was a dangerous proceeding, and the ministry sat on 
 needles ; but the queen is too thoroughly Spanish to be 
 hated to death. She has more or less of those national 
 vices which endear rather than repel, and her presence was 
 
ALP HO NSC? S APPEARANCE. 33 1 
 
 bound to provoke no lasting resentment. The red-faced old 
 queen was greeted with a slight fluttering of handkerchiefs 
 as she passed the loyalists gathered on the balconies of the 
 Department of Finance, and she bowed her acknowledg- 
 ments ; but beyond such courtesies the royal lady passed by 
 like an apparition. 
 
 If this woman has played deep at the lottery of life, if she 
 has won and lost in unequal proportions, what can be said 
 of poor Eugenie of France ? It was a cruel decree of fate 
 that brought the childless empress to Spain in the midst of 
 these merry fetes, and on so sorrowful an errand. Almost 
 unattended, the broken-hearted woman hurried from Eng- 
 land in hopes of seeing her aged mother once again, but 
 that was denied her ; for the poor old Countess of Montijo 
 had passed suddenly away. That December brought a 
 wedding for the queen and a funeral for the empress. 
 
 The royal pathway was now clear for some minutes, but 
 the soldiers stood at their arms and the dense crowd showed 
 no signs of thinning, for the kingly groom must yet pass 
 that way. Presently the beautiful strains of the wedding 
 march choked the aristocratic street, and Alphonso entered 
 upon the scene. The military escort was imposing, and 
 contributed more than its share to the glory of the day. 
 Men and horses moved as one through the Puerta, and the 
 people applauded lustily at the magnificent show. A long 
 retinue of courtly attendants and the royal halberdiers on 
 foot escorted the king's coach. Eight spotlessly white steeds 
 champed their silver bits, and pranced excitedly as they 
 conveyed the young monarch to his bride. These blooded 
 animals, spurning the rein, were led by grooms, who, in 
 spite of the unsteady horses, did their best to imitate the 
 dignified steps of the minuet. The king's coach was heavier 
 and more emblazoned with ornament than the others, and 
 carried on its top a globe, which once had a meaning. 
 
33 2 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Alphonso sat alone in his majesty, but through the open win- 
 dows his subjects caught frequent glimpses of him, clad in 
 the glittering uniform of a captain-general. He repeatedly 
 leaned forward and bowed very graciously to the people, 
 then, sinking back into the eider-down cushions, would be 
 lost to sight. Not a cheer broke from those thousand throats 
 as he rode through ; not one spontaneous greeting did the 
 successor of Philip receive in all that throng. It may be 
 that the Spaniards are not publicly demonstrative, but this 
 seems inconsistent with their vivacious characteristics ; or 
 perhaps ancient Spain is passing through the transition 
 state, and is beginning to appreciate men for what they 
 deserve rather than for what they are. The crowd did not 
 even doff its hat in the royal presence. Grandees, we 
 know, are exempt, and on such occasions the common peo- 
 ple evidently imitate the elect of the realm. Time and 
 time again since that wedding-day I have pondered over 
 that ominous lack of enthusiasm which was so noticeable, 
 and I have yet reached no conclusion. As soon as the king 
 passed the pageant was ended, but the long lines of troops 
 remained at rest as they had from early morning ; the crowd 
 retired from the square, but the sidewalks were as impass- 
 able as ever, and all Madrid seemed literally turned out of 
 doors. In little more than an hour the wedding procession 
 came trooping back from the church, the king and queen 
 occupying the golden chariot with the globe on top, and the 
 others following with true Castilian stateliness of movement. 
 The bands played their merriest, the unbroken line of in- 
 fantry presented arms, Alphonso and Christina kept bowing 
 out of their respective windows, and in a few minutes the 
 last cavalier had pranced into the Arenal again, and the 
 great nuptials were over. 
 
 But the festivities, of course, did not end with the wed- 
 ding ceremony : that was merely the inauguration of the 
 
ALPHONSVS ENTERTAINMENT. 333 
 
 sport. Madrid for a week glittered with wonders. The foun- 
 tains played, grand equipages rumbled through the streets 
 or went the rounds in the park, courtiers resplendent in satin 
 and velvet exhibited their horsemanship to admiring crowds, 
 troops were reviewed, and sham battles fought. The illus- 
 trious of Spain were all there, princesses, grandees, am- 
 bassadors, generals, statesmen, and ministers rivalling one 
 another in the gorgeousness of their dress and in the observ- 
 ance of punctilious etiquette. 
 
 On Monday and Tuesday following the wedding, Span- 
 ish royalty, in accordance with tradition, entertained its 
 distinguished guests with bull-fights that were bull-fights. 
 Early autumn seemed to have loaned a sky full of warm 
 sunshine to give proper effect to the brutal games, and the 
 eager devotees as they looked out of their windows that 
 morning were regaled with bright anticipations. The reg- 
 ular fighting season had gone by, so this was looked upon 
 as so much pure gain. Precisely how the visitors from 
 abroad viewed it made no difference : all were there in 
 the same glittering uniforms, and sat it through. The 
 papal blessing might as well be left out of the wedding as 
 the bull-fight, and Alphonso in the declining days of the 
 nineteenth century only followed the custom decreed by a 
 long line of illustrious ancestors. It is one of the essentials 
 of Spanish ceremonial, and its literal observance was de- 
 manded by centuries of precedents. Madrid with its large 
 population has always been a generous patron, although 
 the home of the sport lies farther south, in Andalusia. But 
 the critics of the capital have nothing to complain of in the 
 way of treatment. They get the finest exhibitions of bulls 
 and fighters in exchange for their silver. 
 
 The star actor is a hero among men and women, and as 
 he walks through the streets he is followed by admiring 
 crowds that note his every movement ; and if he pauses to 
 
334 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 pass a word with some acquaintance the man thus honored 
 at once becomes the envy of the throng. The names of 
 Lagartijo and Frascuelo are more familiar to the masses 
 than those of General Prim and Castelar, for even the chil- 
 dren lisp them in their play. First-class matadors are as 
 rare as first-class actors, and they command good salaries, 
 varying from $300 to $800 for each performance ; but the 
 risks they run are terrible, and, moreover, their active 
 career can last but a few years at the longest. The stage 
 often welcomes Claude Melnottes and Hamlets whose 
 years have passed the half hundred, but the sandy arena 
 tolerates none but the youthful and agile. Rheumatism 
 and stiff joints have no place in Spanish tauromaquia. 
 Bull-fighters must keep their heads clear and their bodies 
 supple, or forfeit their lives in consequence of neglect ; and 
 judging from a succession of observations, I incline to a high 
 estimate of their temperance in all things. More perfect 
 specimens of physical development cannot be found. 
 Strength and exceeding grace are in every movement, and 
 when to these is added a handsome face, as in the case of 
 Frascuelo, the ideal man seems to have been found. This 
 celebrated bull-fighter is the idol of the nation, and when 
 he was wounded, several years before I saw him, half 
 Madrid wept, especially the black-eyed senoritas and their 
 mammas. 
 
 I had entertained a vague idea of bull-fighting, and con- 
 sidered it a kind of catch and go pastime in which all hands 
 took part, and slew the animal without formality or rules. 
 There could not be a greater misconception. The whole 
 business is supremely barbarous, and yet I know of no sport 
 where a greater and more scientific preparation is demand- 
 ed. Bulls and men alike have to serve a long apprentice- 
 ship before they are accepted by the public, for a poor per- 
 former would be instantly hissed out of the ring, be he man 
 
POINTS IN BULL-FIGHTING. 335 
 
 or bull. These fighting animals are no ordinary stock ; 
 they come from blooded ancestors, and are as carefully bred 
 as race-horses or hunting-dogs. Wealthy gentlemen in dif- 
 ferent provinces take intense pride in raising bulls for the 
 arena — a strange freak of stock-raising surely, but they make 
 it pay, and, what is better still, they give a glamor to their 
 family name which neither the soldier nor the statesman 
 can hope to rival. Their tauric fame spreads far and wide, 
 and, as the family name lasts through many generations, the 
 blood-loving Spaniards know what to expect when bulls from 
 these farms are to take part. So critical have the devotees of 
 the sport become, that unless some well known breeding farm 
 furnishes the animals they would not honor the corrida with 
 their august presence. This sharp insistance has brought 
 about the propagation of as handsome and shapely animals 
 as ever roved the fields, and they fetch high prices. The 
 breeder, thus encouraged, keeps his stalls plentifully supplied 
 with choicest bulls, ready at an hour's notice to supply the 
 demand. But different farms produce different breeds, so 
 that the public may be regaled with variety. One bull fam- 
 ily is noted for long horns, another for short horns, one for 
 black hides, another for red ; and then, as with our pugilists, 
 they all have their own peculiar methods of fighting. Some 
 bulls are tricky and give the fighters considerable exercise, 
 while others lower their big heads the moment they 
 come out of their cage, and make for the first horseman 
 they see. These peculiarities are traits by which the farms 
 are recognized, and in order to please the spectators the 
 managers of the arena generally buy the bulls from different 
 owners. I have often listened to old frequenters of the 
 arena as they commented on the probabilities of some com- 
 ing combat, basing what they said on the record of the par- 
 ticular bull families which were to take part. They re- 
 member the grandfather Taurus and the great uncle Taurus, 
 
33& AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 besides many collaterals whose valor was considered phe- 
 nomenal. They have the corrida history at their tongues' 
 end, and make their bets accordingly. Yes, they bet and take 
 chances on everything. Of course the taciturn Castilians 
 are never rash enough to bet in favor of the bull's saving his 
 own life : the odds would be too great, although such an un- 
 expected outcome might happen, as in the case of a broken 
 horn. No, they lay their money on how the bull will be killed, 
 or what he will do. The rules of the science recognize cer- 
 tain work by the espada or swordsman, such as estocadas, 
 pijtchazos, amagos, and suertes, which mean the methods 
 of plying the sword ; or the bull may receive so many lunges 
 from the picadors or horsemen, or so many darts from the 
 lithe banderilleros ; or he may overturn horse and rider, or 
 kill so many steeds, in his fury. It is the number of all these 
 quick and sickening things that helps on the betting. They 
 present a fascination to the habitues who register their bets 
 after due deliberation. 
 
 It is so wonderfully systematic that a stranger is almost 
 startled. In the excitement of the struggle it takes a cool 
 head to discern every nice play ; but this, like everything 
 else, is provided for in the persons of official scorers, who 
 note all the features of the butchery and publish them the 
 next morning in El Toreo, a sheet entirely devoted to bull- 
 fighting. From this last resort there is no appeal, and the 
 bets must be settled accordingly. This reminds me that this 
 journal is published weekly, and contains bull literature 
 from all parts of Spain. The account of the fights is neither 
 vivid nor picturesque, for the Spanish reporters seem un- 
 able to use the brilliant brush of their American brothers : 
 if they only could, then the sport would be made either 
 more popular or more repulsive. 
 
 In some respects bull-fighting is managed after the man- 
 ner of theatres, the chief actor bringing his company with 
 
TO THE FIGHT. 337 
 
 him, the lessees of the ring supplying the bulls, horses, and 
 attendants. The espada and his company are either paid 
 so much, or are allowed a share in the receipts. At some 
 of the large rings the management keep their own picadors 
 and banderilleros, and only engage the espadas for the occa- 
 sion. The large rings are generally owned by the local 
 government and are rented to enterprising directors, who 
 give Sunday and fete day exhibitions as long as fair weather 
 lasts, and in this way both parties are assured of a goodly 
 income. If the government did the work through its own 
 agents, the chances of financial remuneration would be 
 slight indeed. In some places the institution is the prop- 
 erty of opulent citizens, as, for instance, in Grenada, but 
 this private ownership, as might be supposed, is not pop- 
 ular with the masses. The expense of erecting a brick 
 amphitheatre, complete in modern improvements and large 
 enough to seat from ten to twenty thousand spectators, is no 
 small matter ; therefore such undertakings are generously left 
 to the municipalities, which speedily respond, and up go 
 the huge coliseums from one end of the kingdom to the 
 other. The income derived is bestowed on good objects, 
 such as hospitals, asylums, or sudden calamities such as 
 flood or pestilence ; even the society for the prevention of 
 cruelty to animals has been the recipient of this bounty. 
 There is a charming consistency in this, if looked at rightly. 
 Truly charity often assumes a grim practicality in Spain. 
 
 The Plaza de Toros in Madrid is situated just outside the 
 city at the very end of the fashionable Alcala, and thither 
 on that December morning kings and queens, princes and 
 princesses, coronets and garters, jewels and rags, w T ended 
 their way in indiscriminate confusion. The occasion was 
 extraordinary, and the world may never behold the like 
 again. Rather than trust myself to those ramshackle con- 
 veyances I preferred to walk, and there was no lack of com- 
 
 15 
 
33$ AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 pany. This fight was in one sense private ; — no tickets were 
 suffered to be sold publicly, although it goes without say- 
 ing that hundreds were disposed of for money, for the 
 chance of making a few dollars was too tempting to lose. 
 As a member of the press I called on the senor having 
 charge of the invitations, and he politely gave me passes 
 for each day, besides offering many unexpected favors. He 
 saw I was ignorant of the science, and kindly let in consid- 
 erable light, explaining its fine points, and, by aid of a 
 plan, indicated what he considered to be the most desira- 
 ble seats. His experience often became valuable to me, 
 and I imparted it to other ignorant travellers, who thanked 
 me, and doubtless wondered where I had picked up so much 
 knowledge of things Spanish. 
 
 From the Puerta del Sol to the sandy plain surrounding 
 the coliseum a mass of people on foot, on horses and don- 
 keys, in 'buses, tartanas, victorias, barouches, dog-carts, and 
 other nondescript conveyances, surged and crowded in al- 
 most frantic excitement lest they should be late. In the 
 middle of the broad thoroughfare mounted policemen kept 
 an open space through which the royal party might pass, 
 but elsewhere humanity asserted its rights, and woe to the 
 man that stooped to tie his shoe-string. 
 
 The great circular structure loomed up on the level plain 
 like a fort at sea, and with loopholes, embrasures, and 
 crenellated cornice the resemblance was certainly striking. 
 Flags and pennants fluttered from the walls, and loud 
 strains of martial music rose above the din. It was truly a 
 nation's holiday. The great coliseum is the pride of the 
 Madrilenos. They glory in its spacious ring and its terraces 
 of granite seats, where fifteen thousand spectators may be- 
 hold the cruel games. On the ruins of the Roman amphi- 
 theatres rose the Spanish Plaza de Toros ; — men no longer 
 butcher men, but the crowds are as thirsty for blood as in 
 
PICTURES AT THE RING-SIDE. 339 
 
 the days of Nero — more so, perhaps — and bull after bull and 
 horse after horse must be tortured to make a Spanish holiday. 
 
 A hospital is as much a part of the institution as the bull- 
 cage, and likewise a small chapel at whose shrine the fight- 
 ers may hear mass — the last perhaps they may ever hear. 
 It always seemed to me that this was taking a mean advan- 
 tage of the bull. How strange these customs are, and yet 
 they excite no surprise among the natives, who take every- 
 thing in a matter of course way and make no comments. 
 
 To find the section to which my ticket entitled me was 
 very easy, and once there I was at liberty to choose any spot 
 I pleased. The seats are not numbered, being long stone 
 steps arranged as in a modern circus, so that one may keep 
 near the ring, or go higher where the effect is certainly more 
 pronounced, as one looks down on the picturesque battle 
 instead of at it. It is doubtful if the ancient world could 
 show any spectacle more exciting than these combats. In 
 circular array sit men and women, closely packed, breath- 
 lessly watching the horrible scene. Blood, entrails, tortures 
 affect them not, nor do they gasp when some luckless actor 
 is impaled. Their pent-up souls await the final thrust, — 
 then as the wounded animal drops dead a mighty shout 
 rises to the skies, and they leap upon their feet in their 
 excitement and throw presents to the successful espada, 
 who calmly wipes his glittering blade before he acknowl- 
 edges the ovation. In the coming cycles of time, who 
 dares name the brutality that is to supersede the bull-fight? 
 
 When I looked about me the scene was fearfully strange. 
 The tiers were fast becoming peopled with well dressed 
 men and elegantly dressed women, uniforms were scattered 
 in sparkling profusion, and below me sat the diplomatic 
 corps of the capital. The American minister and one or 
 two other ambassadorial colleagues were absent, but mighty 
 kingdoms were represented most generously by under sec- 
 
340 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 retaries, who from long residence had accustomed their eyes 
 to all the quick phases of bull-fighting. In the great balcony 
 over the entrance to the cage, bands were treating the crowd 
 to the latest French airs, some of them being so familiar 
 that thousands of throats joined in the chorus amid a gen- 
 eral clapping of hands and waving of handkerchiefs. It was 
 a study in animation. The arena had been carefully raked, 
 the ring boys and all had withdrawn, when the gate opened, 
 and the royal halberdiers, clad in their picturesque costume 
 and bearing as arms short swords and long pikes, half spear 
 and half battle-axe, marched across the ring and took posi- 
 tions under the royal box. Before the day was over, these 
 fancy warriors found their old-fashioned halberds very useful 
 in repelling the charges of infuriated bulls. All eyes were 
 directed to the gayly festooned balcony, and the multitude 
 showed a few signs of loyalty ; but they were spasmodic, 
 and quickly died out. Curiosity did its work, and scarcely 
 a viva el rey was heard. 
 
 Alphonso in the uniform of a captain-general, as on his 
 wedding-day, and Christina wearing the national mantilla, 
 came to the balcony rail and bowed to their subjects, who 
 received the courtesy in silence ; but the next instant, catch- 
 ing sight of Isabella the exile, they called her name, and in 
 response the real Spanish queen, surrounded by the Infan- 
 tas, showed herself to the crowd. 
 
 In a moment all was ready and the queen waved her 
 handkerchief, the music struck up, and the splendid caval- 
 cade of fighters came upon the scene. This elaboration is 
 never seen except on state occasions ; at other corridas the 
 men walk, and there is but little ceremony, but on this day 
 the true Castilian pomp and circumstance shone in efful- 
 gence. Four mounted alguaciles, preceded by an inspector, 
 led the showy train; then came kettle-drummers and trum- 
 peters, mace-bearers, a state coach drawn by four white 
 
THE CAVALIERS AND THEIR VICTIM. 34 1 
 
 horses with nodding plumes and containing high munici- 
 pal officials, knights on prancing steeds followed by pages 
 bearing spears, another coach, more mace-bearers, then 
 more picturesque equipages, flanked by haughty footmen, 
 alguaciles, and pages, then the fighters Lagartijo, Frascue- 
 lo, Gordito, and Machio, with their bands of dart throwers, 
 picadors, and attendants, and last of all the indispensable 
 mules, harnessed four abreast. As this cavalcade moved 
 slowly around the arena, many were the exclamations of 
 delight. I even experienced delight myself. One would have 
 said that such splendor ought to be reserved for conquering 
 regiments, rather than given to a company of bull-fighters. 
 
 Ordinarily the fight begins as soon as the procession 
 passes round, but on this day more formality obtained, and 
 the first two bulls were killed by valiant knights, the reg- 
 ular combatants merely assisting. The master of ceremo- 
 nies rides up to the royal box and receives the key from the 
 queen : at this the crowd howls with satisfaction. The ket- 
 tle-drums roll out the signal in ominous measure, the heavy 
 door leading to the cage swings open, and amid a painful 
 stillness a bull rushes into the arena. It is really a majestic 
 moment. Awaiting him are knights dressed in courtly lace 
 and satin, and mounted on as proud steeds as ever champed 
 the bit. Twenty thousand spectators hold their breath, but 
 only for an instant, for the bull is full of fight and makes for 
 one of the cavaliers, who avoids him by adroit riding, at the 
 same time plunging a wooden dart into his flank. The bull 
 shakes it out, and, maddened beyond control, rushes again 
 and misses his victim, only to receive another stab, which 
 staggers him for a moment. But his blood is heated, and a 
 highly exciting contest is kept up. The other knight often 
 comes to the rescue, and flings his darts. Then the chulos 
 throw their bright shawls into the bull's face, an insult too 
 great to be borne, and he makes for the saucy fellows, who 
 
342 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 take to their heels, bull after them. This is great sport for 
 the crowd, and it applauds and yells. But the pursuit is 
 brief, and quicker than a flash the horsemen are on him 
 with their death-dealing darts. The bull turns on his new 
 tormentors, but, already weak, his movements lack force. 
 He pauses as if to plan a new attack, but his time has come, 
 for the Sir Knight, with unerring aim, sends a shaft clear 
 through the poor beast's quivering body, and down he goes 
 prone in the sand. The music strikes up merrily, the vast 
 amphitheatre roars with plaudits, handkerchiefs and hats are 
 frantically waved. The mules dash through the gate, the 
 dead bull is attached to the team, and away they go, lashed 
 by their excited drivers, kicking up a great dust, and leav- 
 ing a long furrow behind. 
 
 The next bull meets the same fate, but not until he has laid 
 open the horse's flank and all but unseated his rider. Had 
 it not been for the promptness of the chulos and ring boys, 
 there would have been one cavalier the less in Spain. 
 
 After these preliminary combats of honor, the regular 
 bull-fight took place. Three determined and rough-looking 
 men, with wide sombreros, buck-skin suits and leggings, with 
 long lances in their hands, mounted on the meanest and 
 sorriest nags imaginable, came upon the scene, and took 
 positions in different parts of the arena. These were the 
 picadors, and Satan could never recruit a cavalry more to 
 his liking. They use a high saddle in order to brace them 
 in lunsring the bull, and their legs are bound round with 
 iron so that the horns may not wound them. Consequently 
 when unhorsed they are unable to rise, and although in 
 extreme peril, few are ever removed to another sphere by 
 the aid of the bull : somehow they manage to escape. Theirs 
 is the most revolting act in the entire performance : eliminate 
 this, and bull-fighting, though cruel, would not be so horri- 
 ble. It is a mistake to think of the horses as being noble 
 
FEATS OF THE BANDERILLEROS. 343 
 
 specimens : they are the woi'st old hacks that can be ob- 
 tained. Thin, halt, and half blind, the poor creatures are 
 really on their last legs, and their death is only hastened by 
 a day or two. But the practice is inexpressively savage, 
 and once seen can never be forgotten. To prevent the 
 poor, trembling horse from seeing his impending fate, a 
 handkerchief is tied over his eyes, and before he knows it 
 his hide is torn apart or his breast gored to the heart by the 
 merciless horns. 
 
 When all is ready, the signal comes again from the royal 
 box, the cage is opened, and another spirited bull rushes 
 out. As the animal leaps from his imprisonment, a rosette 
 of different colors is hooked into his skin, so that the people 
 may know from what farm he comes. No sooner is he in 
 the ring than down goes his massive head, and he rushes 
 like a thunderbolt at the nearest picador. You shut your 
 eyes, but the sound goes through your soul. Open them : 
 the horse is on his knees, blood pumps from his wound or 
 his entrails lay upon the sand, while the bull is charging 
 the next horseman. The picador tries to ward off the attack 
 with his barbed lance, and oftentimes the bull sullenly re- 
 treats with a sheet of his hide flapping as he moves. When 
 this barbarity has gone far enough, when several horses 
 lie dead or dying in the ring, the trumpets sound, and the 
 picadors retire from the ring to await the next victim. 
 
 Part second is now in order, and the handsome banderil- 
 leros are the actors. Three of them, dressed in flounces and 
 ruffles of satin and lace, with knee breeches and low slip- 
 pers, carrying short darts in their hands, come gracefully 
 into the arena, and prepare to goad the angry animal in a 
 way both novel and daring. The darts that they stick into 
 his hide are about a yard long, with a hook on one end and 
 gaily colored ribbons on the other, so that when his bullship 
 has received the sharp compliments of the saucy trio, he 
 
344 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 presents a rather grotesque appearance as he trots round in 
 his fury. When it is borne in mind that these darts must be 
 thrust and not thrown into the hide, the danger is seen to 
 be imminent; but by long practice the feat is done, and 
 although for an instant the fellow is actually grazed by the 
 horns, he leaps away laughing, while his victim paws and 
 kicks, and acts quite a comedy. The performer, holding a 
 dart in each hand, dances before the bull and teases him ; 
 but one invitation is usually sufficient, and, lowering his 
 head and closing his eyes, the beast charges the fragile piece 
 of humanity in front of him. No athlete acts quicker than 
 the banderillero ; his movements almost vex the lightning 
 as he thrusts his darts and is miraculously saved. Their 
 dare-devil performances are blood-curdling ; they actually 
 invite danger, and a premium is offered for any feat more 
 dangerous than any the present list contains. 
 
 I saw an especial illustration of skill defying death at this 
 fight. Gordito, who is both a dart thrower and an espada, 
 placed a heavy chair in the centre of the arena, and seating 
 himself tempted the bull. In a second the wild creature 
 bellowed an acceptance, and with the rush of a cyclone 
 made for the solitary figure. I would not have insured that 
 man's life for a penny : he actually stood in the way of an 
 express train : but in went the red and white darts, and out 
 of the way went the man and chair. Gordito, I believe, is 
 the only fighter who does this act : but courage is not want- 
 ing to induce others to attempt it. After the bull has been 
 generously bedecked with ribbons, the banderilleros go out 
 and the last act takes place. People move uneasily, and 
 change positions, for the suspense and excitement preclude 
 the possibility of indifference even among stolid Spaniards. 
 As the espada in his beautiful costume, holding in his hand 
 the red muleta and his trusty sword, comes in view, the 
 multitude give him a hearty welcome : he bows in return, 
 
THE COMBAT OF DEATH. 345 
 
 and walks like a monarch to the king's box. His majesty 
 leans over the balustrade, and listens to the espada's declara- 
 tion of loyalty and his purpose to despatch the bull for the 
 honor of Alphonso. Then flinging his cap into the crowd, 
 this man of steel walks confidently towards the wondering 
 animal. The espada, his breast glittering with princely 
 offerings and his short queue dangling behind, confronts 
 the bleeding, foaming brute, while twenty thousand human 
 hearts bound against as many breasts. The combat of death 
 begins. The red shawl is waved, and the bull lunges 
 madly at it ; but quicker than thought the nimble fighter 
 skips out of danger only to be again charged. He lifts 
 the red cloth, and the curious animal raises his great head ; 
 he lowers it, and the shaggy head goes down ; he shakes 
 it, and the charge is made ; — so this graceful play goes on 
 for some minutes, until the bull, wearied by his unceasing 
 persecution, stands panting : the crowd can endure it no 
 longer, and a loud " ahora " — " now " — breaks forth. The 
 bull's last moment has come : the espada, sure of his foot- 
 ing, lowers his cloth, and down goes the victim's head leav- 
 ing the vital spot uncovered. The man draws back his 
 glittering blade, and, rising on tip-toe, takes unerring aim 
 and lunges with all his might. The sword goes in to its 
 very hilt ; the death blow has been given, and in a few 
 minutes the bull sways and totters and falls dead. Then up 
 rises a tornado of applause, and in its extatic insanity the 
 crowd does queer things. Cigars by the box are flung down 
 into the arena ; hats, coats, money, and oranges follow in 
 indiscriminate confusion. The espada shows his white teeth 
 and vainly endeavors to pick up his offerings, but the task 
 is impossible and he summons assistance. The merry 
 French airs are broken into fragments by the noisy specta- 
 tors. The royal box is very animated — but Christina is no 
 longer visible : the scene has been too much for her Austrian 
 
 15* 
 
346 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 nerves. The halberdiers rest on their long spears ; and now 
 that the dead horses have been dragged out, and the patches 
 of gore sanded over, the kettle-drums sound the long and 
 dramatic roll, the gate opens, and another magnificent bull 
 confronts the noisy multitude. It is the same horrible rep- 
 etition, varied perhaps by more brutality ; but the most 
 unaccustomed eyes can stand the second scene if they can 
 the first. 
 
 Now and then comical sights are seen, as, for instance, 
 when the bull leaps over the barrier. The barrier is five 
 feet high, but I have seen a bull leap it with the grace of 
 a greyhound, and make a circuit of the enclosure between 
 the arena and the spectators' benches. This unorthodox 
 performance stirs men's souls to the utmost, and the confu- 
 sion it produces is refreshing. The first time I saw this 
 bull-jumping done, the enraged animal came back into the 
 arena bearing on his horns one of the king's soldiers who 
 failed to get out of the way. My heart sank within me, for 
 the situation was blood-chilling. By some mischance the 
 bull had caught the man by the sword-belt, and, mad at his 
 mistake, actually flung the writhing victim unhurt to the 
 ground, and dashed oft' for better prey. Within this outside 
 passage are water peddlers, orange boys, idle fighters, po- 
 licemen, and a few favored u sports," who always claim ac- 
 quaintanceship with the actors. In fact, it might be termed 
 an open-air green-room. Pestilence in its most hideous form 
 could not work a greater fright : in comes the bull with 
 blood in his eyes, out go the loiterers regardless of appear- 
 ances. Situations are now reversed : the bull has posses- 
 sion of the passage, while the fright-stricken humanity hold 
 the arena. It is a moment of unrestrained merriment. 
 When I first saw this acrobatic feat, I wondered how they 
 would get the bull back into fighting position ; but they did 
 not keep me waiting many seconds. The heavy barrier is 
 
AN INFURIATED BULL. 347 
 
 generously supplied with gates, and in an instant one was 
 thrown open outward, thus barring further progress, and 
 before the bull could turn and run back another was opened, 
 which left him in a small pen, with no alternative but the 
 fatal arena. As soon as he reentered it the gates were 
 swung back in place, and the barrier made as firm as ever. 
 
 One infuriated animal, with long, needle-like horns, want- 
 ed to fight horses, men, halberdiers, and everything else. 
 He gazed savagely at the tiers of spectators, and thought to 
 himself the havoc he could make among them, — but the 
 barriers between were too formidable ; so he turned his 
 attention to the statuesque halberdiers, and paid them a 
 cyclonic compliment. In an instant he encountered a wall 
 of spears, and his ardor dampened, but he showed his con- 
 tempt by kicking his heels at them. Then in a fit of ab- 
 stract madness he rushed at the fence and broke a horn 
 close oft'. Here was a dilemma, for the enraged invalid 
 would brook no concession. Gates was opened for him to 
 go out, but he refused to go. Dogs were sent in, but he 
 only chased them over the dusty ring : nothing seemed to 
 influence him towards salvation. Finally several oxen were 
 driven in, and he experienced a remarkable change of heart. 
 He rushed up to the inoffensive creatures as if to shake 
 paws with them, rubbed his wounded head against their 
 sleek sides, and clung to them with an affection quite touch- 
 ing, following them in their amblings, and disappearing 
 through the gate with them in a seeming state of complete 
 bovine docility. 
 
 Oxen have great influence over the wild bull nature, 
 and it is in their company that the bulls are driven to the 
 battle-grounds and safely lodged in their respective cages. 
 Connected with the arena by a wide and dark passage is the 
 bull pen, in which they await their entrance to the public. 
 This pen is divided into cells opening into the passage ; so 
 
348 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 when the signal is given the cell door and the great portal 
 of the arena are opened simultaneously, and out rushes the 
 prisoner. It is an interesting sight to see the bulls teased 
 into these dark cells. All sorts of devices are employed to 
 bring it about, while the few privileged spectators stand on 
 the parapets and enjoy the amusing sight. 
 
 While bull-fighting can get no apology from me, an 
 extended sojourn among the Spaniards did not prove them 
 heartless or unfeeling. They are as good as humanity in 
 general, and in some respects decidedly more open in their 
 petty vices than some people who look upon them as unciv- 
 ilized. Not to see a bull-fight I consider a mistake, and yet 
 its atrocities are too much for some nerves. But it is as 
 much a part of Spain as the glorious cathedral of Seville, or 
 the sunny slopes purpling with the grape. 
 
 At this wedding combat eight bulls were slain, and many 
 times more horses. Four hours of blood and agony, of loud 
 hurrahs and merry music, of dust, excitement, and frenzy, 
 and in this carnival of horrors Christina was introduced 
 to her husband's people. I often glanced at the flag-draped 
 box, and wondered if the young queen trembled at the 
 thought of having to live among eighteen million subjects 
 whose highest favors and heartiest plaudits were reserved 
 for days like this. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MADRID TO MOROCCO. 
 
 THE truce offered to Madrid by the capricious climate 
 proved of short duration, being followed by a suc- 
 cession of bone-tingling weather so savage as to send dis- 
 tinguished guests and idle tourists flying either homeward, 
 or towards the genial realms of the South. The day after 
 the festivities were over brought the thermometer down on 
 its knees ; snow garlanded the streets, and a wind like the 
 breath of the Inquisition swept in unmitigated fury. Madrid 
 was not to my liking. I could see it later under more pro- 
 pitious skies ; so I turned my face Andalusia-ward, via 
 Toledo. The change seemed to bring me several circles 
 nearer the North pole, but the desolate old city on the crags 
 could not be slighted ; so I tried to appreciate what I saw, 
 although I failed to enjoy the climate and the accommoda- 
 tions. 
 
 As the train crawled along the forty odd miles, with that 
 slow, exasperating movement so common in Spain, I real- 
 ized how much there is in life when one has the disposition 
 to take things easily. It was late at night when we arrived ; 
 but night and day are very much the same there, and the 
 omnibus with its consumptive lamp opened its creaking 
 door for us. We then began the ascent, and a more thorough 
 shaking up never befell mortals. The streets were so nar- 
 row that any sudden lunge might heave us into the private 
 apartments of some citizen, where, when confronted with 
 the host, we should be at a loss to account for our uncon- 
 ventional presence ; but the good old vehicle brought us 
 
350 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 safely through the labyrinth of dark and grewsome lanes 
 and alleys, and landed us in the Zocodover or public square. 
 Lights twinkled behind frosty panes, and the strains of cafe 
 orchestras caught my ear, all of which went to show that 
 the town was not wholly lost in slumber. But my ride 
 gave me no desire to study interiors at that hour, so I 
 sought the hotel de Lino, the only one in the city and 
 the worst one in Spain. Half stable, half house, it was 
 my only choice, and there I lay down to sleep. I was 
 hungry, but they fed me not; I was cold, but they clothed 
 not my bed ; they promised me a breakfast, and, that I 
 might have lively anticipations of the coming feast, they 
 brought a brasier of live coals into my room. I shook 
 myself to sleep, and was up the next morning breaking 
 the ice in the wash-basin long before the sluggish landlord 
 had fairly got to bed. 
 
 Toledo may be accepted as an epitome of universal his- 
 torv : the Romans, Goths, Jews, Moors, and Spaniards 
 have all had their share in its annals, and left their testimony 
 in quaint and becoming characters. The massive bridge, 
 the whitewashed mosques, the alcazar, the splendid cathe- 
 dral, the orange courts, and the gurgling fountains tell the 
 story of the past more eloquently than any historian. Cor- 
 dova excepted, I looked upon Toledo as the saddest city in 
 Spain. There is a depression hanging over everything 
 which few visitors escape. The atmosphere seemed sur- 
 charged with an indescribable melancholy which invaded 
 one's inmost soul. I am at a loss to account for this, inas- 
 much as Toledo, notwithstanding ecclesiastical strictness, 
 has not been more wicked or more cruel than Seville or 
 Valencia ; but certain it is that over her house-tops lurks a 
 gloom which, though unseen, is always felt. Toledo has 
 reason to be proud of a superb situation, for she sits en- 
 throned upon crags and peaks, high above the encircling 
 
TOLEDO. 351 
 
 valley, and at her feet the river Tagus plunges through its 
 rocky pathway to the sea. No city is more picturesque than 
 ancient Toledo on the heights. 
 
 The chronicles of New Castile attribute to Toledo an 
 antiquity contemporaneous with the ark, and possibly it may 
 be even so ; at all events the decaying houses and blackened 
 ruins clearly ante-date the Christian religion, and furnish an 
 abundant theme for serious contemplation. I believe there 
 is more consummate dilapidation to the square foot in Tole- 
 do than in any other city in Europe. Even the people one 
 meets have an air of decay about them, and this trait is viv- 
 idly emphasized in the neighborhood of the asylum for the 
 insane, where living death is fearfully portrayed. The mil- 
 itary school is the one bright spot in Toledo : there one sees 
 action and vigor, and hears merry shouts and gay songs, but 
 elsewhere the silence is oppressive and saddening. The 
 landmarks of history are thickly scattered about to show the 
 epochs through which the city has passed. Each race has 
 left its impress, the Moors the most enduring of any. Ori- 
 entalism is prominent in architecture — even the Spaniards 
 adopted it either by design or accident — and many of the 
 churches and public edifices show the sensuous touch of 
 infidel builders. Succeeding ages have never been able to 
 divorce this influence, and in an architectural point of view 
 Toledo to-day is more Moorish than Spanish. 
 
 Down through the narrow and crooked streets, with their 
 opposite windows so near that people might easily shake 
 hands across the intervening space, I came suddenly on the 
 cathedral. This master work is justly famous the world 
 over, although its annals are indistinct in the night-time of 
 history. Surely it could never have been built by the mot- 
 ley and miserable population that now hover within sound 
 of its great bell, nor do I think they have any appreciation 
 of its surpassing magnificence. Within its walls archbishops 
 
352 AALESUND TO TETUAJV. 
 
 and cardinals, eminent alike in religion and state-craft, have 
 directed the policy of kings, have hurled anathemas by the 
 hundred, declared wars, and concluded treaties of peace. 
 Memories of Marinus, Rodrigo, Mendoza, Tavera, and a 
 long line of kings and queens, including properly enough 
 the Virgin Mary, queen of heaven, are suggested at every 
 turn. In no other spot on earth have the glory and majesty 
 of political religion been so prominent as in this aged won- 
 der-house. On pushing aside the leather curtain the scene 
 disclosed is grand and imposing. The spacious interior is 
 dim and silent, save the low sound of prayer or the occa- 
 sional burst of song from the choir, while the scent of in- 
 scense follows the slowly moving processions as they go 
 from chapel to chapel. Five naves divide the church, and 
 a hundred massive columns, deeply fluted, support the enor- 
 mous roof. A transverse nave has been placed so that the 
 interior might be cruciform, and on the sides are the high 
 altar and the choir. In Spain, as in Russia, the high altar 
 is the attainment of sublimity in decorative art. There the 
 riches of bottomless coffers have been lavished until the 
 altar has become a realm of gems, paintings, sculptures, gold 
 and silver vessels, and all kinds of indescribable handiwork. 
 Around all this shoot up into the gloom embossed steel 
 bars, which give to the holy of holies the appearance of a 
 gilded cage, from whose confines only prayers may escape. 
 This beautiful prison is entered by wide and noiselessly 
 swinging gates at the foot of the altar steps, kept open dur- 
 ing services so that the kneeling worshippers may have an 
 unobstructed view of the glittering ceremonial. The choir 
 is also shut in by needle-like bars ; but the public may pen- 
 etrate its shades, and, under the benign glow of a monkish 
 taper, study the marvellous wood carvings which so thickly 
 adorn the singing-benches and stalls. The history of the 
 world seems to be portrayed by these ingenious tracings, 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 353 
 
 and no one can look at the numberless designs without 
 being wonder-struck at the exceeding patience that produc- 
 ed them. To me they were the most interesting feature in 
 the great cathedral. In the rear of the choir is a chapel 
 containing the shining albaster tombs of Alva de Luna and 
 his wife, and on niches and pilasters are his swords and 
 armor and his trophies and orders. But the most comical 
 sight is the adaptation of Mahomet's miracle to Spanish pur- 
 poses, or, in other words, the suspended coffin of a high- 
 toned grandee of Toledo, who was so troubled lest the com- 
 mon herd walk over his decaying body that his relatives 
 hung him up high in the gloom ; and there his bones con- 
 tentedly await the last trump. 
 
 The famous Muzarabe chapel has the most interesting 
 ecclesiastical story in Spain, and it is embellished in keep- 
 ing with its glories. When the Moors captured Toledo 
 many inhabitants begged to remain, and the generous victors 
 granted their request, and at the.same time guaranteed them 
 freedom of worship. Hence they were called mixed Arabs ; 
 but they kept their religion during the four centuries of 
 Moorish ascendancy, and at its end, when the Christians 
 again came into power, the king wished the sturdy people 
 to give up their Gothic missal and accept the Gregorian ; 
 but never was a king more boldly defied. Even the pope 
 was at his wits' end. Expedients, such as burning the old 
 and new forms, were tried ; even a resort to combat be- 
 tween the champions of the change had no effect, and the 
 old form of words held its own. But in course of time the 
 Gothic sentences became like so many Egyptian hieroglyph- 
 ics to the Toledans, and the ancient rites seemed about to 
 be forever lost ; then it was that Ximenes, unwilling that 
 the memorable custom should be forgotten, caused the 
 meaningless Gothic characters to be translated and printed 
 in the vernacular ; he then established this beautiful chapel 
 
354 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 and appointed priests, and to this day services are carried 
 on in that queer ritual. 
 
 In another part of the cathedral they show the Chapel of 
 the Virgin, and a more noble offering to faith does not 
 exist. The riches of emperors could suggest nothing, nor 
 could the apartments of emperors be more ornate and daz- 
 zling. The Virgin Mary once came into this very church, 
 so the legend goes, and they preserved the stone slab upon 
 which she stood. For an insignificant fee her foot-prints 
 may be examined, and if one's neck is long enough the slab 
 itself may be touched by one's lips. In days gone by the 
 faithful were permitted to lay their hands on the precious 
 relic ; they might press their devout lips to it ; but an excess 
 of devotion began to wear it away, and rather than have the 
 thick flagging licked to nothing but an imaginary point, 
 the authorities set it behind solid bars, where it may be 
 seen but scarcely touched. No wonder the Toledans have 
 shown their gratitude to the condescending queen of angels 
 by erecting to her memory the grandest chapel in Spain. 
 
 In chapels appropriated for consummate display are silks, 
 satins, and damasks studded with rubies, pearls, and emer- 
 alds ; candelabra thick with branching arms ; pyxes flashing 
 back the lustre of countless gems ; wares, chalices, and all 
 the lustrous paraphernalia of the Romish church. Here, 
 too, are the robes of the Virgin spread out before vulgar 
 eyes. What a change from the night in Bethlehem ! 
 
 When the splendid interior loosed me from its fascination 
 I strolled into the fragrant cloisters, and was spellbound by 
 a loveliness where shade-trees flourish and flowers and birds 
 and fountains lend an enchantment. 
 
 After the cathedral, the celebrated sword- works assumed 
 a prominence in my saunterings, and thither I bent my steps. 
 The cutlery business has fallen ofT, like everything else in 
 Toledo, and, as now conducted, does not employ the regi- 
 
SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES. 355 
 
 merits of workmen I had supposed. Sheffield has given 
 Toledo a death thrust, and the end cannot be far distant. 
 The works are in a court surrounded by high walls, and 
 soldiers were lounging about with the regular cafe expres- 
 sion, cigarettes and all ; but they carried arms, and were put 
 there to guard the secrets of blade-making and to prevent 
 stealing. I saw the various processes, but understood none ; 
 though in the armory the quaint collection delighted me 
 with its startling array of daggers, poniards, swords, sti- 
 lettos, spears, and knives. Visitors not only contribute a 
 fee to enter, but are cordially commanded to purchase sou- 
 venirs of the historic spot. But who could resist the temp- 
 tation to buy some of those exquisite arabesque knives with 
 embossed handles? I could not, and I took many away 
 with me. 
 
 Passing through the zigzag windings and the majestic 
 Puerta del Sol, that Moorish gate beneath whose turrets all 
 the town must pass, then up the steep hill, I came to the 
 church of San Juan de los Reyes, whose terraces and para- 
 pets gave it a very martial appearance. This famous church 
 of a single nave, with its arches and pillars richly orna- 
 mented with a riotous profusion of bas-reliefs representing 
 men, women, children, birds, flowers, animals of frightful 
 mien, and unintelligible inscriptions, and yet so gracefully 
 arranged as not to suggest ridicule, is one of the sights of 
 Toledo. Gothic art has done its utmost for San Juan, and 
 has given to it an enduring elegance that soothes the brain 
 like a sweet dream. Adjoining the church is the sculptured 
 cloister, with roses blooming even in December. The col- 
 umns surrounding it are slender and delicate, and yet their 
 fragile bodies know the chisel, for they, too, tell history in 
 quaint characters which mount up and up, and become in- 
 distinct in the foliated capitals. The pilasters are none the 
 less inscribed, so is the frieze which runs round like a wiz- 
 
356 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ard's story, and the walls, too, are covered with figures and 
 arabesques. The cloister is small, but never was so much 
 harmony and richness combined as in this peaceful angle of 
 old Toledo. It is a marble allegory of faith, virtue, and 
 courage, whose attributes become instinct with life and 
 beauty and promise, so that the world may commune with 
 them and go away happier. 
 
 In sad contrast with this sculptured paradise is the ancient 
 synagogue of Santa Maria Blanca, with its narrow naves 
 divided by four rows of columns upholding a series of low 
 arches. The interior is a deathly white, and yet the Chris- 
 tians call it a church. No Romish ritual could exist in its 
 desolate and severe interior. Even the Moors would spurn 
 the cheerless and forbidding spot where not even the birds 
 would enter ; and as for the Jews, they seek other sanctu- 
 aries. The cedar ceiling bears traces of the wood-carver's 
 skill, while the walls testify in Arabic to a belief in another 
 world ; but the place, while it suggests Orientalism, seems 
 to lack that warm and sensuous character that connects the 
 mosque with the Paradise of Allah. 
 
 Toledo streets would furnish rare facilities for coasting or 
 tobogganing, provided ice were plentiful ; and yet, on ac- 
 count of their crookedness, the sport might entail untold woe 
 to its patrons. The very thought is sufficient to make one 
 cross-eyed, for it made my eyes ache to patrol them at my 
 leisure. Everything seems to be on the hill, and on the high- 
 est pinnacle stands the Alcazar. Charles V built this great 
 castle : hence its name. It is large enough to lodge a small 
 army, and its vast stables might resound with the champing 
 of a thousand bits. Fortress-like, each corner has a huge 
 square tower, and embattlements gird it round. There are 
 casemates, loopholes, and other death-dealing spaces, so that 
 an exterior view gives one a chilly sensation. But inside 
 the portals the scene changes. The court-yard is paved 
 
MILITARY SCHOOL. 357 
 
 with blocks of light-colored stone, and two tiers of balconies 
 supported on graceful columns extend around it. 
 
 For many years the Alcazar was left to bats and beggars, 
 but lately the government has established a military school 
 there, and the old courts and corridors are again alive with 
 songs and chivalry. A handsome young officer showed 
 me every part of the ancient palace, and no doubt gave me 
 an honest history of the place, even to minute details, so 
 when I came away my head was filled with all sorts of leg- 
 ends which my young guide had put there. The same un- 
 conquerable passion for Arabesque breaks out in the Alca- 
 zar, and has bespangled its facades and pilasters with ten 
 thousand alphabets of grotesque scrolls, all meaning some- 
 thing to former generations, but absolutely nothing to the 
 gay and careless cadets whom I saw blowing smoke into 
 the air. I happened to see a battalion of these embroyo 
 captains go through the manual, and they did it with a pre- 
 cision and ease that could not be surpassed. The Spanish 
 officers are proud in their bearing, well dressed, and lay 
 claim to no small number of personal charms ; but when 
 this Alcazar academy has been at work a decade or two the 
 older officers must look out for their laurels, for these young 
 fellows will know all the latest devices in the art of besieg- 
 ing cities and hearts. In some of the rooms pictures of 
 sisters, possibly, graced the melancholy walls, and strewn 
 about were evidences of handiwork more delicate than 
 man's ; and yet these tender momentos did not banish the 
 monastic aspect of the interior. That abominable negation 
 of taste, whitewash, was everywhere, — in the passages, the 
 dining-hall, the sleeping-rooms, the chapel, the court-yards, 
 and, for aught I know, in the soup. I really longed to con- 
 tribute a peseta towards purchasing a gallon of Venetian red. 
 In midsummer this blankness may be cooling, but in the 
 biting air of winter it sends the mercury into the bulb. 
 
35^ AALESUND TO TETUAM. 
 
 Down the steep paths I made my way to the inhospitable 
 fonda, paid my bill, and eagerly turned towards the more 
 genial realms of Andalusia. Through the crumbling de- 
 fences built by Goth, Moor, and Christian, curious now but 
 once formidable, then across the angry Tagus by the pictur- 
 esque bridge of Alcantara with its dignified towers and 
 threatening parapets, from which I cast a lingering glance 
 at grisly old Toledo on the rocks, a shapeless mass of roofs 
 and steeples and towers, and my visit to the venerable capi- 
 tal was over. 
 
 That night the train traversed the desolate plains where 
 valiant Quixote rode ; but I slumbered unmindful of history, 
 and only waked when the full sun blazed into my face to 
 tell me that bleak Castile had given way to the soft and 
 ingratiating charms of Andalusia. The ride was long but 
 not tiresome, owing to the unwonted loveliness of the scen- 
 ery — green valleys stretching mountainward, peaceful ham- 
 lets of dazzling white shaded by lofty palms, flowers, peas- 
 ants, and above all a cloudless sky, bluer than the robin's 
 egg. I was glad to get back into the sun-lit provinces, 
 where braziers are regarded as curiosities, and where the 
 women appear in the graceful mantillas. 
 
 In winter central Spain is about as ill-favored a spot as 
 can be found, — cheerless, gloomy, and ugly, with scarcely 
 a genial day during the whole season. But how different 
 is the south ! There the sun flirts occasionally, but he is 
 never mad with the simple people dwelling along the Guad- 
 alquivir. 
 
 I sailed from Cadiz to Tangiers in a tempestuous sea, and 
 the cockle-shell steamer, with no accommodations save rough 
 benches, performed all sorts of aquatic gymnastics, doing 
 everything but sinking. Neptune evidently had no use for 
 so insignificant a craft, and graciously permitted us to ride 
 the waves in safety. It was a woebegone night, however : 
 
AT ANCHOR IN TANGIERS. 359 
 
 sleep was out of the question : we could not lie down or 
 stand up, and no expedients calculated to assuage our dis- 
 comforts could be devised. How we shunned the vexed 
 waves I shall never know ; but thrice happy were we when, 
 just as the first faint glint of coming day etched the east, our 
 anchor dropped, and we were at rest. Gradually the night 
 vanished like a dissolving view, and the ghostly city on the 
 hills revealed itself. An irregular succession of terraces, 
 with square, windowless houses, cleanly to contemplate from 
 the steamer, round castles with heavy battlements, shapely 
 minarets and imposing towers, and dominating the block- 
 like houses stood the prison. As the sun rose higher in its 
 lustrous course the white city became tinted with red ; the 
 magic of a wizard's brush seemed at work ; in rapid changes 
 came the colors of the palette, while the roses lingered in 
 the heavens. Never had I beheld a sunrise so splendid, 
 and yet that outburst of nature aroused no delight among 
 the dwellers in Tangiers. We were anchored not far from 
 the beach, so that the sights became plainly Oriental. The 
 scantily clothed beings, the grotesque conglomeration of 
 everything, — natives, soldiers, negroes, Jews, — rowed out to 
 us, but not near enough to touch the hem of our garments, 
 for the health officer had not visited us. Presently he came, 
 attended by a boat-load of as dangerous looking creatures as 
 ever cut a throat. He was a Spaniard, and illustrated the 
 old saying that the prophet is not without honor save in his 
 own country. In Spain I did not entertain a high opinion 
 of the medical gentlemen, but in Tangiers it was quite 
 another matter. Our health was sufficiently good for us to 
 digest Moorish cooking, and we were allowed to land. 
 Then the fun began. A score of boats sprang into being, 
 and they all wanted the four passengers. The half-naked 
 boatmen yelled and kicked, waved their fezes, brandished 
 their oafs, and looked so ferocious that I feared for my 
 
360 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 bones, and with good cause. The Moorish proposition was 
 to divide four men into twenty parts, so that each boat 
 might get a piece of them. How we ever reached the land 
 I know not, but we did, only to encounter another and 
 more terrific avalanche of aggravating attention. A kindly 
 deus ex machina, in the shape of a stalwart Moor, came 
 strutting upon the scene, and in an instant quiet was re- 
 stored. I hailed him as our deliverer, and so he proved, 
 for he gave ringing commands, and the crowd fell back, 
 while more gentle menials took our traps into the august 
 presence of the inspector of customs. This imperial func- 
 tionary sat on a low bench, with his legs crossed, his robes 
 wound around his corpulent form, his mammoth turban 
 encircling his swarthy brow with the fulness of a feather 
 bed ; in his thick lips he held a cigarette, and at his side 
 lay a curved cimeter. I inferred from his general appear- 
 ance that he was collector of the port, and that he practised 
 civil service with a frenzy. Our examination was on the 
 Russian plan, and dropping some silver in his big official 
 paw in accordance with the suggestion of the deus ex 
 machina, the brief but dreaded interview was over. I turned 
 just in time to see him ring the pieces on the floor to make 
 sure of their genuineness, after which he put them into 
 a small pouch and serenely awaited the next source of 
 income. 
 
 The angularity of the Moslem lanes surpasses human 
 comprehension, and their sharp and irregular cobbles bring 
 tears to the eyes. The square houses are of uneven sizes, 
 and conform to no street line. They are on the plan of a 
 set of bad teeth : some are above and some below the level, 
 and the space in front called the street follows the variations 
 with a vexatious persistency. You must keep your eyes 
 open, or a sprained ankle may be the price of carelessness ; 
 and besides this, when you see a donkey with panniers com- 
 
MAHOMET THE GUIDE. 36 1 
 
 ing, it is a matter of some moment to decide what to do. If 
 no friendly door-way is at hand, you stand against the wall, 
 draw in your breath until you fancy your clothes will drop 
 oft', and let the obstinate beast go past, and if he does so 
 without scraping off a few buttons, pray consider yourself 
 fortunate. From the landing to the Victoria hotel these 
 local peculiarities are generously introduced, thus furnish- 
 ing a sort of preface to the larger chapter of Tangier expe- 
 rience. This hotel is kept by an English woman, who, 
 with her two half-breed sons, provided cheer and com- 
 fort in a truly intelligent way. One of the sons showed 
 talents as an artist, and his pictures were commended 
 by fellow-artists, whose search for material had brought 
 them hither. Connected with the hotel was the celebrated 
 guide Mahomet, whose graceful form and regal strut are 
 familiar to countless travellers. He took me in charge, and 
 never lost sight of me during my stay. He showed, ex- 
 plained, and possibly lied about everything ; he charged 
 commissions, and he charged beggars as well ; — in truth, this 
 man was my friend through thick and thin. Mahomet is a 
 large frog in the Morocco puddle ; he appears to occupy a 
 position between the officials and the people, not as a shield, 
 but more as a medium of communication for the purposes 
 of a better understanding in money affairs. He speaks 
 English, Spanish, and French, and his long association 
 with foreigners has, so to speak, quite unMoored him. He 
 uses profanity with an unerring precision ; he smokes, 
 drinks, and plays cards with a cosmopolitan freedom that 
 excites the envy of his countrymen ; but in one thing he is 
 typically Moorish, that is his dress. A great Moslem tur- 
 ban gives a dignity which the ample white caftan, carelessly 
 flung about his body like the toga of a Roman senator, 
 somewhat reduces ; his legs are bare, and on his feet are 
 yellow leather slippers. His walk suggested the ruler, for 
 
 16 
 
362 AALESUND TO TETUAJST. 
 
 he strode along like a Caesar. He seemed to know half the 
 citizens; some he called by name, others he pulled roughly 
 by their loose cloaks, and now and then, to show his supe- 
 riority, slapped them over the shoulders or made up faces at 
 them. Mahomet claimed acquaintance with Mark Twain : 
 he asked me about the humorist, and after a moment's re- 
 flection said, "God! if you had four or five more like him 
 America would be a different country. " I was evidently in 
 the hands of no ordinary Mussulman. 
 
 Mosques are closed to Christians, and churches there are 
 none. Public buildings, if there are any, remain hidden ; so 
 nothing is left but that most interesting of all diversions — 
 street scenes. The principal thoroughfare runs from the beach 
 through the city to the great square or market-place outside 
 the walls, and though uneven, ill-paved, and crooked, it 
 might be called the background of history. Here we come 
 across the first principles of existence. We meet face to face 
 the primitive dwellers, scarcely changed in all the centuries, 
 and yet Gibraltar with its Anglo-Saxon civilization lies only 
 a few leagues away. There is no monotony in Tangiers's 
 population : it is an endless variety of changing humanity, 
 such as the Arabian Nights stories are made of, — Moors, 
 Arabs, Bergers, Jews, negroes, slaves, — each with his pe- 
 culiar costume, some bearing fire-arms and swords, others 
 with long sticks going about silently as if in search of 
 something lost. They may be dreaming or plotting, but 
 their expressionless countenances furnish no clew to the 
 workings of their minds. They are of all colors, from 
 white to deepest black, and many are yellow and brown. 
 There is no prevailing fashion about wearing the hair ; — 
 some have the head shaved as closely as a razor can do it, 
 leaving only a tuft on top, while the rest glistens like the 
 front seats at a ballet ; still others let the barber alone, 
 and long, matted tresses are the result. Their idea <5f 
 
STREET SCENES. 363 
 
 clothing is very liberal, and works both ways Many 
 wear turbans and flowing caftans, plain or embroid- 
 ered according to station, but more cover their naked- 
 ness with long white woollen cloaks, with pointed hoods 
 drawn upright over their heads. Stockings are unrecog- 
 nized, and thousands go over the cruel cobble-stones with 
 bare feet. Every one wears the fez, for this is a badge of 
 patriotism, and must be observed. The Jews wear the 
 black, all others the red, fez. In my vision now, just as it 
 was then, Tangiers looms up as the most original spectacle 
 I ever looked at, and subsequent sights have not effaced one 
 fez or caftan from that Moorish picture. 
 
 The shops are more like cages than places of com- 
 merce, and always seemed to me more numerous than 
 the requirements of the people demanded ; but the adjoin- 
 ing country pays them tribute, and helps to make their 
 owners rich. Customers cannot go into the shops ; they 
 stand on the outside and peep in and trade. There in 
 cross-legged dignity sits the trader, with his merchandise 
 hung up on the matted walls, or spread out on the floor 
 in front of him. It consists of pipes, belts, curiously 
 pounded copper-ware, embroideries, fezes, gowns, pistols, 
 knives, and a general theatrical display of articles calcu- 
 lated to please the conglomerate customers. And yet the 
 keepers of these boxes or booths showed no business activ- 
 ity : they evidently preferred to be wreathed in smoke, and 
 through its clouds vacantly stare at passers by. It might 
 have been that they were so rich as to be indifferent to gold 
 and silver. Vagrant merchants, with arms full of beautiful 
 brushes or brilliantly colored rugs, run up and down the 
 streets yelling at the top of their voices, and venders of meat 
 and vegetables did likewise. Money-changers sit in angles 
 and corners, and shake baskets of coppers to attract atten- 
 tion. The Moorish Rothschilds are by no means prepos- 
 
364 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 sessing : they are tough and cruel-looking bankers, and their 
 curved cimeters give them an ominous aspect. But their 
 capital is unlimited, and when I gave a small piece of silver 
 to one of them, he returned to me as change almost a peck 
 of coppers. He certainly treated me generously, if not hon- 
 estly. Tailors, apparently unconscious of the intrusion, keep 
 their shears clipping musically as you stand gazing at them, 
 bestowing not so much as a professional glance on the cut- 
 away coats and trousers that adorn their European visitors. 
 In point of airy picturesqueness the modern costume cannot 
 hold a candle to the Moorish, and the sneers of the swarthy 
 workmen are readily accounted for. The tinsmiths beat a 
 merry tattoo ; and the blacksmiths in dingy cellars, gro- 
 tesque silhouettes in the lurid glare of their fires, present a 
 vivid conception of classical hades. 
 
 Hideous faces bend forward and beg for money. They 
 are the most intolerable beings that ever came across mortal 
 ken, and you meet them everywhere. Slaves with yokes 
 across their shiny black shoulders carry heavy burdens, 
 for horses and carts are not numerous in Tangiers. Rich 
 merchants, with purple caftans and embroidered turbans, 
 conscious of their superiority, march majestically through 
 the uneven streets. Jews with girded waists and flowing 
 gowns move quietly along with their hands in their pock- 
 ets, servile appearing creatures, but thoroughly alert to the 
 main chance. 
 
 Just outside the walls, beyond the fortified gate, is the 
 market-place, and there you get a never ending panorama 
 of life. Cactus and figs grow on the little hill adjoining ; 
 and up higher is the ancient grave-yard, where the peculiar 
 monuments, having lost all idea of equilibrium, are arrayed 
 in laughable irregularity. A market is held here twice a 
 week, and the sight defies description. Everything from a 
 dried fig to a camel is sold, and a babel of harsh jargon fills 
 
A CAMEL CAMP. 365 
 
 the air all day long. Several buyers get a cow, and imme- 
 diately deliver it to the public butcher, who then and there 
 slaughters the creature, parceling out the carcass according 
 to the amount each has contributed. 
 
 In the first shades of evening my good Mahomet took me 
 to the camel camp outside the city, and there I saw hun- 
 dreds of those animals tied for the night. It was the most 
 original sight I had ever seen, and its weirdness rather grew 
 on me the longer I tarried. Camp fires lighted up the 
 scene, and revealed the camel drivers stretched out around 
 them. We came across the professional story-teller, who 
 had collected a crowd of half naked auditors, and was 
 reciting with great vivacity some wondrous tale about a 
 rich old miser who was providentially changed into a toad. 
 He beat his tambourine with a violence worthy an end 
 man, danced and sung, and occasionally got on all fours and 
 leaped about, to the intense amusement of the spectators. 
 In the background were the lofty, white crenellated walls 
 of the city, and I fancied myself living a thousand years 
 ago. 
 
 My stay in Tangiers was cut short by the sudden knowl- 
 edge that a party of travellers was to start for Tetuan early 
 in the morning, and I was delighted at receiving an invita- 
 tion to join the little caravan. The journey is not long, but 
 it is interesting, and need not be made tedious. The coun- 
 try through which the road lies presents many unique and 
 characteristic sights, and gives one a comprehensive idea of 
 Moorish ways and means. Our plan was to go to Tetuan, 
 then to Ceuta, and across to Gibraltar, about a week's jour- 
 ney. A Belgian official had the undertaking in charge, and 
 he attended to our welfare with fidelity and intelligence. 
 He engaged the dragoman and the needed servants, pro- 
 vided mules, and secured the attendance of a brace of impe- 
 rial soldiers, whose presence is deemed indispensable by 
 
366 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 prudent travellers. It turned out that the soldiers needed 
 us more than we needed them. 
 
 As our start was to be an early one, I went to bed, hoping 
 to get a few hours' rest, but sleep was never so intermittent 
 or so fragmentary. The narrow passage in front of the 
 hotel swarmed with men and donkeys long before eager 
 Aurora had opened her eyes. A most unearthly hammer- 
 ing resounded through the silent streets, shouts and vocifer- 
 ations full of meaning fell with unwonted regularity from the 
 husky throats, and the plaintive but unmusical whinnying 
 of mules and donkeys contributed to our discomfiture. The 
 street leading from the hotel to the city gate was as black 
 as its swarthy pedestrians, and as I peered down upon the 
 noisy scene 1 had difficulty in making out the forms of men 
 and animals; but ocular evidence was not necessary. The en- 
 tire escort, — dragoman, troopers, and all, — had arrived, and 
 were arranging the preliminaries. They cuffed and kicked 
 each other, and shrieked out Arabic curses in profusion ; 
 then they pounded the mules whenever the beasts displayed 
 a restlessness or a lack of interest in the proceedings. To 
 descend into such a confused and angry mass seemed like 
 taking one's life in one's hands, but do it I had to, as time 
 was of importance, and to delay in the land of delay would 
 have been criminal. The faint glimmering of dirty lanterns 
 enabled me to see my way safely, and by directions of the 
 Jew dragoman a mule was assigned me, which I mounted 
 forthwith. The humble beast then leaned heavily against 
 the adjacent wall, using my leg as a sort of pad, and it was 
 only after repeated blows that he shifted his position. Be- 
 fore the day was gone I became very much impressed with 
 the mule's peculiarities. 
 
 One by one the travellers came forth, and in due time, 
 amid yells and whoops, the order was given to start. Down 
 the dark alley we proceeded in single file, as grotesque a pro- 
 
ON TO TETUAN. 367 
 
 cession as ever the stars looked upon, to the gate, which 
 was opened by a night watchman, but not until much par- 
 leying and recognition had been gone through with. Then 
 this imposing guardian of the peace, in bulbous turban and 
 gown and bare legs, rose from his seat on the cold ground, 
 and I saw how formidable he was. In the folds of his 
 sash was a wicked looking cimeter. In one hand he car- 
 ried a veritable dark-lantern of English make, but very 
 dark, as the oil had long since vanished ; in the other hand 
 dangled a ponderous key, as large as a gridiron. From its 
 size I inferred the lock must be as big as a Saratoga trunk ; 
 but this man of law and order knew how to manipulate his 
 secret, and in due time the massive gate creaked and let us 
 pass. One by one we filed out, the soldiers leading, then 
 the six travellers, the guide and the four servants bringing 
 up the rear. The moon was bright, the sky was full of 
 twinkling lights, and the air was tinged with a pleasant 
 chill, so that I felt refreshed and wide-awake. 
 
 The path wound round under the silent white walls for 
 some distance, and then turned abruptly toward the sea. 
 Beneath the embattled parapets, lying like dead giants in 
 the sand, were several 30-ton Armstrong guns, and there 
 they are likely to remain indefinitely. The Moors, evidently 
 ignorant of their use, permit them to rust and to corrode ; 
 and yet they are good to gaze at, and undoubtedly serve to 
 impress the rude natives with their country's greatness. 
 The ride along the beach was delightful, but it did not last 
 long, for our course was exasperatingly capricious, and took 
 us through fens, bogs, rivers, up hill and down, through 
 underbrush and over dusty plains, until the topography of 
 the locality was thoroughly understood. 
 
 For the first three or four hours we neither met nor saw a 
 human being, and I thought we had entered the land of the 
 dead. The soil was harsh and seemingly unproductive, 
 
368 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 and evidences of agriculture were wanting utterly, the at- 
 tempts, if any had ever been made, being nowhere visible. 
 All about was a sterile type of landscape, which even the 
 Moors and their herds were glad to shun. This aspect, 
 however, did not last long, for after a few hours the land 
 became richer, the scenery more diversified, and the way- 
 side scenes more entertaining. 
 
 Many times during the day I saw goats and cows pulling 
 the plow — and what a plow it was ! Only a pole with a 
 crooked handle, with the share driven through the end to 
 prick the earth, while at the other extremity was the ill 
 mated motive power. The Moor guides it with one hand 
 and flourishes his goad-stick with the other. Like all his 
 compatriots, he is half dressed, and looks terribly in earnest. 
 I did see a few oxen tilling the farms, but comically matched 
 brutes appeared to be the popular contrivance — an ass 
 hitched to a cow, or a partnership between the donkey and 
 the goat. The yoke is box form and placed over the ani- 
 mals' heads, and is the most awkward design imaginable, 
 having little or no leverage power ; but if, as suggested, 
 the box is filled with grain, it may have its uses in encour- 
 aging the team to greater exertions. 
 
 Morocco is one of the most fertile countries in the world. 
 Cotton, sugar cane, Indian corn, thrive almost sponta- 
 neously ; and yet little or no attention is paid to a systematic 
 nourishing of the soil, as it lies neglected and unseeded, the 
 natives holding their acres according to caprice, so that when 
 they tire of one spot they move to another, leaving every- 
 thing as they found it. The habitations are mud huts with 
 thatched roofs, and so insignificant as to be unrecognized a 
 few rods away. The inhabitants are not especially neigh- 
 borly, as the distance between the huts is considerable, 
 although we did see several small villages where a dozen 
 or more dark-skinned peasants had placed their rude dwell- 
 
EL FOND AC. 3^9 
 
 ings. The true nomadic character of the people was shown 
 by numerous herds of goats and sheep grazing peaceably in 
 the unbounded fields, attended by small children, who were 
 a.lmost naked. 
 
 We passed several long camel trains bound for Tangiers, 
 a score or more of lumbering creatures striding through the 
 narrow defiles with all the awkwardness imaginable, turning 
 neither to the right nor to the left, but keeping on their way 
 like the monarchs of the desert that they were. Their drivers 
 exchanged a rough sort of civility with our Mahometans, but 
 not a glance did they give us. We were mere blanks in 
 their minds, and they passed us by unnoticed. I observed 
 this trait frequently, and rather wondered at the habitual lack 
 of curiosity. The women may retain some of that Eve- 
 like disposition, but their faces are so bundled up as to pre- 
 vent an undue exercise of that universal female prerogative. 
 
 About noon we began the ascent to El Fondac, whose 
 glistening walls had been in sight for so many hours, but the 
 undulating country, like waves of the sea, kept tossing it 
 farther away. <Up through the olive and fig-trees, picking 
 our way over stones and boulders, mules and riders constant- 
 ly slipping and sometimes falling, we finally reached the 
 height of land between the Mediterranean and Tetuan, and 
 rode into the paved court-yard of that semi-military station. 
 
 This imposing war establishment seems to have long 
 since fallen into disuse, and, aside from a few ragged and 
 filthy natives who still infest its seclusion, Fondac is a past 
 chapter of Moorish history. Architecturally considered, it 
 was never more than a large square enclosure of high walls, 
 within which even an ill disciplined rabble might maintain 
 a very creditable siege. The court-yard is roughly paved, 
 and around the sides are sheds and huts. Unattractive as 
 the place was, we were only too glad to have a halt to 
 stretch our cramped legs and to seek brief repose. Our 
 16* 
 
370 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Hebraic guide, a fellow marvellously economical of the truth, 
 had raised our drooping hopes by holding out promises of 
 a commissary nature when we should reach Fondac, but, 
 alas ! even a moderate indulgence in gastronomy was 
 doomed to bitter disappointment. Food there was none. 
 The hampers which looked so generous as we left Tangiers 
 at the early hour had now become mere reminiscences, only 
 crumbs remaining, and Tetuan was still several leagues dis- 
 tant. The sullen and vermin-stricken basket-makers, or Ber- 
 ber thieves — the occupations are nearly the same — brought 
 forth from their smoking dens native coffee and bread, and 
 more execrable viands never rasped mortal throats, but our 
 hunger compromised with everything and down they went. 
 A handful of dried figs served as dessert, and our mid-day 
 meal was over. 
 
 On a spur of the Za Kar mountains stands Fondac, and 
 sightly indeed is its situation. From its walls one gets a 
 splendid panorama of valleys, groves, streams, and far-away 
 mountain peaks, an ever changing landscape, with here 
 and there glimpses of the blue ocean, serving to remind one 
 of Europe and its civilization. 
 
 Time precluded a long delay : the remainder of the jour- 
 ney was assuming large proportions, and we must be off. We 
 took a new path, where rains had made great furrows and 
 loosened huge rocks, so that the mules constantly made un- 
 expected movements, sliding, plunging, rearing, and occa- 
 sionally squatting on their haunches, until the gentle valley 
 below was gained, when the caravan paused to take account 
 of individual bruises. The travelling was now all that 
 could be desired, and in our enthusiasm we had impromptu 
 mule races, which, owing to the divine theory of mule con- 
 struction, were tedious and uninspiring. In a moment of 
 exuberant courage I challenged our soldier to a race, and 
 the man-at-arms instantly put his sorry jade into a rattling 
 
THE MAN-AT-ARMS. 371 
 
 gait ; but my mule, conscious of ancestry, suddenly devel- 
 oped into a pacer, and just as the contest was getting highly 
 exciting his muleship took it into his thick head to stop, and 
 he carried out his intention with commendable firmness, but 
 his rider went on for a moment as if nothing had happened ! 
 The earth was yielding, and save a few suggestive scratches 
 no damage was done. 
 
 It was now getting dark, and Tetuan was not at hand. In 
 the gathering evening the picturesqueness of the man-at- 
 arms came out very strikingly, and reminded me of one of 
 Detaille's desert studies. His swarthy face had grown a 
 shade darker, and his peaked chin with its tuft of whiskers 
 peeped out from the folds of his hood like an ivory statuette ; 
 his long robe hung loosely from the horse's side, almost 
 falling to the ground ; his trusty gun, with crutch-like 
 breech and barrel carefully wrapped in flannel, was laid 
 across the saddle, against whose brass and iron trappings 
 his curved cimeter kept up a refrain suggestive of an ine- 
 briated cymbal-player. But grotesque were this trooper's 
 legs, as in their nudity they described a triangle owing 
 to the shortness of the ponderous stirrups, bringing the 
 knees into the air so as to form a complete bulwark for his 
 face. And this was our guardian and protector as he sat 
 astride his fast dissolving steed. Compassion for the poor 
 horse leads me to speak kindly, and yet, compared with 
 him, Rosinante became an Andalusian steed such as Charles 
 the Fifth might envy. This attenuated and staggering 
 animal had evidently passed his prime ten years before he 
 made our acquaintance, and yet the unwilling brute had to 
 undergo further trials in order that he might be a compan 
 ion piece to his rider. Both man and horse were amusing 
 studies in anatomy. 
 
 We came across camel trains and men on foot, and a 
 hour before we reached our destination a brace of sturdy 
 
37 2 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 soldiers joined our little party and kept with us to the end. 
 In the fast gathering night-shades the indistinct evidences of 
 wayside huts indicated the nearness of Tetuan. The flick- 
 ering lights and occasional voices were sights and sounds 
 most grateful, for we were fatigued to the bones, and 
 hailed with delight the stone bridge across a sluggish 
 stream, for it brought us beneath the formidable white- 
 washed battlements of Tetuan. It was nine o'clock, and 
 the gates had been closed since sundown ; but we all set up 
 a mighty shouting supplemented by vigorous poundings, a 
 real international concert, in which many strange tongues 
 commingled, but it accomplished its purpose and brought a 
 solitary silhouette to the parapets, who with the solemnity of 
 an official ghost demanded what we wanted. This uncalled 
 for question must be prescribed in the governmental rubric, 
 for our appearance ought surely to have done away with 
 any such interrogatory. After a long parley, in which 
 mention of reward was frequently heard, the silhouette van- 
 ished, and in due time, according to Moorish etiquette, two 
 hours or so later, returned with a permit from the com- 
 mandant to enter. Even at midnight it was highly ludi- 
 crous to watch that Moorish functionary as he stood in the 
 exasperating flicker of a lantern, and did his best to note our 
 names as we gave them. His big ear-rings moved mechan- 
 cally as he tried to catch the strange phonetics, but he 
 stuck to his task most faithfully, and after satisfying him- 
 self that he had secured our patronymics, we passed down 
 the narrow inner walks, a weird band, I 'm bound, and 
 then through another creaking gate out into the great 
 silent market-place, hemmed in by solid blocks of square 
 white houses with miniature casements like so many black 
 eyes peering out upon the night. I do not remember 
 of meeting a living soul in that midnight transit of Tet- 
 uan. Dogs barked as a matter of course, but the prowling 
 
OUR LANDLORD. 373 
 
 rounder or the drowsy watchman did not come upon the 
 scene. 
 
 No sooner had we entered the purlieus of the town than 
 our man-at-arms, together with the servants and pack 
 mules, disappeared as if by magic, and only reappeared 
 when we were ready to leave for Ceuta. We kept our 
 beasts until the tortuous alleys brought us face to face with 
 the only hotel in Tetuan, the Hotel de l'Univers, where 
 dismounting we entered the hostelry with all the confidence 
 of mortgagees, and quickly proceeded to make ourselves 
 comfortable. 
 
 The landlord, I soon observed, was a typical Jew, and a 
 rather handsome one at that. His three score years had 
 left but few marks, his complexion was healthful, and his 
 black eyes were as bright as ever. The inn over whose 
 destinies he presided was small and scantily furnished, but 
 the old man did all he could to make our sojourn pleasant. 
 He spoke Spanish and a strange kind of French, and evinced 
 a commendable ambition to add English to his acquire- 
 ments. His dress denoted that he was a man of some 
 importance among his people, for he wore a long priestly 
 looking gaberdine with a girdle of crimson silk round his 
 waist ; his stockings were black, and his low cut shoes were 
 adorned with silver buckles ; on the crown of his well 
 shaped head was a black cap, from beneath whose edges 
 came forth prim locks of white hair, which gave him a cer- 
 tain distinguished bearing and beauty. It so happened that 
 our visit fell upon the Jewish Sabbath, and our host, either 
 from dictates of innate piety or from a love of ostentatious 
 pretence, observed it to the letter, even going so far as to 
 inhibit fires until evening. The good old Hebrew, holding 
 the Scriptures in his hand, tripped nervously about the 
 premises, pausing a moment to con a precious promise, 
 then trotting oft' to some distant apartment, whence quickly 
 
374 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 returning he continued his vocation and devotion in sadly 
 unequal measures. The pretty, olive-skinned servant maids 
 chuckled at their master's impromptu sanctimoniousness, 
 and winked slyly when his back was turned. The hotel 
 was dark and damp, like all the Moorish houses, for pro- 
 found secrecy in domestic affairs is strenuously insisted 
 upon. The windows were too small to admit much light, 
 and their stout lattice prevented the intrusion of lovers or 
 thieves. Overhead was the open sky, for these dwellings 
 are constructed around the patio, so there is no lack of ven- 
 tilation and fresh air, nor rain either. The galleries sur- 
 rounding this miniature court-yard were ingeniously carved, 
 while the numerous pillars were thickly inscribed with 
 strange mottoes and figures, all illustrative of something 
 other than eating and drinking. The stairs leading to the 
 different stories were as steep as it was possible to make 
 them, and considerable practice was necessary to avoid 
 tumbling down. Our bed-room was a long apartment, 
 resembling some baronial hall of former days, with vaulted 
 ceiling and horseshoe arches, stone floor, and windows of 
 most diminutive size. The beds, however, were clean, and 
 slumber came unsolicited. 
 
 Among the inducements held out to travellers by the 
 landlord were hot and cold baths. " Les bain froid e 
 chand" so the business card read, and I ventured to try 
 one. A comical experience it was, for, instead of a room, 
 I was conducted to a large wooden trough placed in the 
 middle of the open patio, where, unscreened from vulgar 
 vision, I was told to go through my ablutions. My com- 
 panions leaned over the balcony rails, and amused them- 
 selves by harsh and unrelenting banterings. The primitive- 
 ness of the luxury was not in the least objectionable, but I 
 cannot say so much about its embarrassing publicity. 
 
 Tetuan is Tangiers magnified, and as a place of trade is 
 
TETUAN. 375 
 
 very important, wool, cotton, leather, and fruit being the 
 chief exports, and reports say the business increases every 
 year. The Spaniards looked upon Tetuan, with its massive 
 walls and frowning castle, as a strategic point during the 
 war of i860, and after a siege it surrendered to O'Donnell, 
 and was held by Spain for more than a year. The success- 
 ful general became known in contemporary history as the 
 Duke of Tetuan, and the title is still retained in the family. 
 I did not observe that the conquerors left much impress on 
 the people, although in some quarters of the town the pri- 
 vate residences denoted a European repose quite at variance 
 with native customs. 
 
 The rabble is even more kaleidoscopic than at Tangiers, 
 and all kinds and conditions of men are met on the streets, 
 the most abject and miserable creatures imaginable. Dis- 
 ease-stricken beggars stretch forth their palsied palms for 
 money, but nobody takes notice of them. Then there come 
 along the prosperous merchant, the loud-mouthed hawkers 
 of small wares, the fruit-venders, the donkey boys with shrill 
 pipings, and the sharp-eyed Jew with hands behind his back. 
 Then come the Tetuan women, with straw hats as large as 
 cart wheels and faces hidden behind folds of linen, their eyes 
 peering out and half smiling at Christian curiosity and mod- 
 ern trousers. Slaves with bare backs tugging at their work ; 
 soldiers, counterparts of our man-at-arms, with long bean- 
 pole guns slung over their shoulders ; hunters, with baskets 
 of rabbits and partridges ; and many other comical and in- 
 teresting figures of humanity, — play their parts in the pan- 
 orama of the African Orient. 
 
 Out in the spacious market-place were crowds of people 
 seemingly doing nothing but existing, and yet many hidden 
 currents coursed beneath that moving" sea of turbans and 
 fezes. The Moors appear stupid and meek, but they wear 
 a mask, and behind it they keep up a tolerable thinking. 
 
376 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Artisans ply their trades in dingy holes and cellars, and the 
 traders sit cross-legged in their cuddy-houses, wearing on 
 their swarthy faces an expression of utter unconcern, — and 
 yet, just begin trading with one, and in a moment you will 
 be surrounded with a vociferous chamber of commerce, and 
 then you will understand how much there is behind the 
 Moorish mask. 
 
 I often paused to watch the dusky workmen at their call- 
 ing, and was astonished at the rapidity and deftness with 
 which they used turning-lathes and polishing-wheels. They 
 turn our methods upside down by propelling the machine 
 with their hands, while they hold the wood with their toes. 
 Long practice has given them great dexterity, and cups, 
 plates, and other wooden articles are rounded out of the 
 shapeless blocks, and immediately placed on sale. Shoes 
 and gaily colored slippers find ready purchasers, and so do 
 articles of tin-ware. 
 
 Over these Tetuan streets long bamboo poles were 
 stretched, so that during the hot months mattings could 
 be drawn, and thus afford a shade to the surging mass be- 
 neath. We were fortunate in making the acquaintance of 
 one of the merchant princes of the town, who conducted 
 us to his residence, and offered his prodigal hospitality, 
 unmellowed, however, by the society of his household 
 females. These interesting beings were not exhibited to 
 profane glances, but we were given a brief peep into some 
 of the luxurious apartments occupied by them. Every 
 room was suggestive in its appointments. The ceilings were 
 richly inlaid, the floors were tessellated, and the walls hung 
 with stiffly embroidered draperies. The halls were lofty, and 
 thoroughly ventilated, opening into an exquisite garden rich 
 with plants and musical with babbling waters. Low couches 
 and divans were placed about the rooms, and in one I caught 
 a sight of coffee cups, evidently hastily left on our approach. 
 
A SPANISH REFUGEE. 377 
 
 But the house was silent : not even the tinkle of the guitar 
 disturbed that midday stillness, as we passed like ghosts 
 through the scriptured pilasters and the mural hierogly- 
 phics. 
 
 While strolling along, I was greatly astonished to see a 
 small, ill scrawled notice in ink, vouchsafing the information 
 that gin-cocktails were sold on the premises. Over the low 
 door was a name in Spanish, and curiosity prompted me to 
 enter and see for myself the enterprising mortal who dared 
 to set up an American bar in the heart of Morocco. The 
 dispenser of this trans-Atlantic beverage was a small, rough- 
 looking Spaniard, who had left his country for his coun- 
 try's good, and had taken up his residence in Tetuan where 
 the legal environments are not so embarrassing ; and there 
 he stood, with his burning cigarette, and in broken English 
 related a long story of his life on land and sea. He had 
 been quite a traveller, once living in New York — a circum- 
 stance which accounted for his phrases and his knowledge 
 of the popular materialization of spirits. On the walls of 
 his dingy quarters were numerous pictures cut from Har- 
 per's Weekly and the Lo7idon News. Tetuan is a kind of 
 Botany Bay, where Spanish fugitives congregate and re- 
 main till the clouds of vengeance roll by ; — in fact, many 
 members of the Spanish colony do not refer to their past 
 careers with that degree of enthusiasm which the emigrant 
 ought to feel, and the reason is obvious. Ceuta, a Spanish 
 fortress and prison, lies only a few leagues away, and most 
 of the refugees are prisoners who have succeeded in making 
 their escape from the casemates and dungeons of the little 
 town, for, once in the by-ways of Tetuan, recognition and 
 capture would be wellnigh impossible. After an exchange 
 of greetings I bade my new acquaintances adios, and again 
 mingled with the strange crowds. 
 
 In the evening our host arranged a grand concert for our 
 
37$ AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 delectation, and before it was half over we had heard all 
 the Moorish symphonies we cared to hear. Three hand- 
 some young fellows played on tamborines, violins, and 
 guitars with more or less success, accompanying their 
 efforts with long drawn out bursts of national songs, mere 
 unharmonious and monotonous chants ; but they displayed 
 a true professional conceit, and continued their vocal gym- 
 nastics far into the night. They sat upon the floor, and 
 during the necessary intervals regaled their throats with 
 copious draughts of black coffee ; but as the evening wore 
 on, the fellow called Absalom kept swaying to and fro in a 
 most suspicious manner, till at last he dropped his tam- 
 bourine, and rolled over on the floor in a splendid state of 
 intoxication. His beverage had been gin, and it had worked 
 out its inevitable results. His companions smiled and chat- 
 tered, but their noise was decidedly lessened by the enforced 
 cessation of the burly beater of the tambourine ; however, 
 as if to make amends the fellow began a most tremendous 
 snoring, which made the little Jew grow pale lest there 
 should be a corpse in the house. Finally, a Moor with a 
 face blacker than a coal-mine in a thunder storm got a wet 
 towel and bound it about the drunkard's shaved pate, and 
 in a few minutes he was able to be marched from the scene 
 of his enchantment. After this interruption the improvised 
 concert came to a well earned conclusion, and with the usual 
 amount of apology and explanation the dusky musicians 
 departed with a generous supply of silver in their palms. 
 
 We found rest and interest enough to delay us several 
 days ; but these Moorish towns, aside from the street scenes 
 and the strange population, do not demand long linger- 
 ing, so, when the bazars and market-place had been many 
 times visited, we again mounted our docile mules, and 
 passed through the massive gates of Tetuan bound for 
 Ceuta. 
 
ceuta. 379 
 
 The motley caravan was in good order, the voices of the 
 guide and his servants were unimpaired, the animals kicked 
 with a new-born energy, but the man-at-arms was a curious 
 bundle of gown, fez, and sash, made so by a too great in- 
 dulgence in nocturnal dissipation. After a few hours' ride 
 we came upon the Mediterranean, which we welcomed, for 
 our path became easier as it wound over the hard beach and 
 along the crests of the adjacent cliffs. Rain came upon us, 
 but the air was warm and kindly, so the tedious ten hours 
 ride was made bearable. Ceuta is always in view, gracing 
 a jutting point of land, but the zigzag nature of the route 
 became exasperating, for our course would frequently 
 change, bending inland amid the thick shrubbery and an- 
 noying branches. Long before we reached the fortress of 
 Ceuta the sun came blazing out, the white houses of Ceuta 
 were coated with crimson and gold, the sea sparkled, and 
 the landscape glowed with fragrant verdure. 
 
 The Spaniards have kept this strategic stronghold for 
 more than two centuries, and their massive fortifications 
 augur well for a continued possession. Over drawbridge 
 and beneath deep portals we ambled, till in the gathering 
 twilight we dismounted, and were at rest. 
 
 Ceuta is well constructed, clean, and sightly, but there is 
 absolutely nothing to interest the stranger. The sights are 
 common, the experiences plain, the accommodations as bad 
 as possible, and the chances of sea communication indefinite 
 and uncertain. For four days warring billows and bois- 
 terous winds kept us imprisoned in the little town, while 
 only a few leagues distant stood hospitable but inaccessible 
 Gibraltar. 
 
 The long days and nights were relieved by companion- 
 able officers, who showed us the few sights, — the prison, 
 the works, the hospital, the mess-rooms, and other military 
 spectacles, and on Christmas eve at nearly midnight we 
 
380 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 attended mass in the Cathedral. At its conclusion the wor- 
 shippers paraded, the one long street, making night lively 
 with merriment of every description. Small boys organized 
 a unique band, which gave out the most woful sounds. 
 Kegs with skin stretched over the heads, tambourines made 
 from small boxes, and slips of wood with thin strings strung 
 upon nails, combined to raise as successful a pandemonium 
 as ever greeted the constellations. The best of nature 
 prevailed, and I noticed the ragged Moorish boys partici- 
 pated in the good time as well as the children of the Span- 
 ish soldiers. Sleep did not come that night, nor did we 
 tease it, for at daybreak a prolonged shrieking of whistles 
 and the quick tattoo of drums announced that the steamer 
 would make an attempt to cross the white flecked Straits of 
 Gibraltar. 
 
 The sea was rough, and our frail craft creaked and stag- 
 gered, and the decks were washed by ugly waves which 
 rolled us about as if they wanted to submerge us. In the 
 straits was a squadron of sail just spreading its wings for 
 flight into the Atlantic, having been wind-bound during the 
 storm ; and a prettier sight could not be imagined. We 
 glided through the fleet, and made for Algeciras, where 
 safe behind the great mole we came to anchor, and a few 
 hours later were rowing across the bay to iron-capped 
 Gibraltar. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 GIBRALTAR TO SEVILLE. 
 
 THE rock-bounded fortress, with its good, sturdy, An- 
 glo-Saxon customs and characteristics, seemed almost 
 like home, after so many months of wandering, and I wel- 
 comed its limited attractions and pleasures. The taste for 
 landscape ornamentation is exhibited in every spot where 
 such attempts are practicable. Even the unwilling rock has 
 been excavated in many places to make gardens and lawns, 
 so that the English population may feel more contented. 
 From the landing port to the Alameda one sees the rugged 
 stubbornness of the town ; — on one hand the sea mole ; on 
 the other, the sloping sides of the famous rock, thickly cov- 
 ered with stone houses, — terraces rising one upon another, 
 and flanked by the sheer sides, which seem to defy the antic- 
 loving goat as well as the invading foe. 
 
 The Alameda is one of the sweetest little breathing-spots 
 in Europe, and is dear to the hearts of the Gibraltese, as 
 land is a rarity in that uncompromising locality. There the 
 gardener has displayed his most consummate skill in the 
 arrangement of flower-plots, the setting out of plants, and in 
 the care of hedges and shrubbery, until in the hollow of the 
 rock there is presented to the eye a nook of rarest beauty, 
 which even more favored spots might envy. In the after- 
 noons the garrison bands discourse popular airs, and the 
 town enjoys its daily promenade, while the lazy natives, to 
 whom has been given the name of rock scorpions, recline at 
 full length on the benches, and turn a deaf ear to the music. 
 Beyond the sunny pleasure-ground, the road leads past 
 
382 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 gigantic fortifications, across miniature ravines, and beneath 
 frowning gates, until Europa Point is reached. There all 
 attempts at pedestrianism must end ; but the panorama of 
 glittering sea and white sail is spread out with charming 
 effect. There in silent contemplation one may sit and while 
 away idle hours, taking no heed of time, conscious of noth- 
 ing save the soft lullaby of the waves and the winds. This 
 point being the land's end, attracts those in want of exer- 
 cise, and furnishes a panacea for torpid livers. It is true 
 that long walks may be taken beyond the "lines," as the 
 invisible boundary between Gibraltar and Spain is called ; 
 but the roads are dusty and hot, and the eating-places are 
 execrable, while at Europa Point tempting refreshments 
 gladden the visitor. Consequently this two-mile promenade 
 is popular with the ladies of the garrison, and with stran- 
 gers as well. 
 
 At this jumping-off place are massive fortifications, con- 
 taining guns of the heaviest calibre, powerful enough, so 
 they say, to throw shells against hostile fleets endeavoring 
 to pass the straits, though the distance is several leagues. 
 Prettily dressed children play about these mammoth guns, 
 mounting the carriages, or trying to climb upon their huge 
 shining backs ; but they might as well try to straddle the 
 back of an elephant. And yet the mechanism is so nicely 
 adjusted that a child might manoeuvre the eighty-ton mon- 
 sters with surprising ease. 
 
 Cannon are set in every vantage spot ; they even lurk be- 
 hind rose-bushes and in the shadows of jutting rocks, almost 
 unseen by the passer-by, but ready at a moment's warning to 
 belch out flame and shot. I would not undertake to say how 
 many batteries there are concealed from view ; it is enough 
 to call to mind those in plain sight. On the east Gibraltar 
 needs no artificial defences, for there the gigantic wall of 
 rock is almost perpendicular to the sea, and no danger can 
 
GIBRALTAR. 3^3 
 
 threaten it. At its base, on the beach, is Catalan Bay, a small 
 settlement inhabited by fishermen, where the soldiers on duty 
 look out for smugglers, and watch the blue sea as it rolls on 
 towards the orient. The north side is equally precipitous, 
 rising twelve hundred feet from the sandy plain, connect- 
 ing Gibraltar with the Spanish mainland, and on account 
 of its commanding position its unyielding sides have been 
 hewn into those famous galleries that are the wonder of the 
 world. In order to thwart any Spanish attempt at invasion, 
 nearly three miles of these passages, costing vast sums of 
 money and years of labor, have been completed, situated high 
 above the sea, and punctured with embrasures, through 
 which ugly cannon poke their black noses as if impatient 
 to roar out defiance to the foe. These passages are large 
 enough to work the guns in, and tortuous in their course, 
 for they wind in and out in their long circuit, ending in a 
 spacious chamber known as St. George's Hall. This un- 
 looked-for cave is used as a banquet-hall whenever the offi- 
 cials wish to make a sensation ; and many are the good 
 times connected with its history. My soldier-guide sug- 
 gested that I go out on a narrow projection, and look off. 
 I did so, but nothing could tempt me to repeat the venture- 
 some act. The shelf jutted out a few feet, and was wide 
 enough to stand on ; and there, motionless, between heaven 
 and earth, T looked down that dizzy declivity six hundred 
 feet ; then, turning my eyes upward, I saw the same un- 
 broken wall towering toward the sky. I dared not breathe 
 on that perilous crag ; the beating of my heart seemed 
 to jar my brittle footstool ; and when I stepped back into 
 the Hall, I at once realized how foolhardy I had been. 
 But this is the way to comprehend the martial importance 
 of these galleries and their strategic position. Long and 
 narrow slits are cut through the rock, so that riflemen, safe 
 from opposing fire, may pick off their victims as easily as a 
 
3^4 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 hunter shoots a squirrel. Nothing in the way of advanta- 
 geously destroying life was omitted in the military calcula- 
 tions. Even the narrow peninsula leading to the Spanish 
 lines is undermined, and can be blown up in the twinkling 
 of an eye. 
 
 In old times Gibraltar was the key to the Mediterranean, 
 but it is not so now ; and no nation, Spain excepted, cares 
 a whit about getting possession of its sullen crags and bat- 
 tlements. 
 
 High among the peaks is the signal station, and the walk 
 to it is a favorite one with those who find solace in vigorous 
 exercise. Its horizon of land and sea is one of the most ex- 
 pansive in the world, and no craft passes without speaking 
 to the watchers on the parapets. In this way the maritime 
 world is kept fully informed as to its vessels, for no sooner 
 has the vessel been recognized than the intelligence is 
 spread from Calcutta to San Francisco. 
 
 The little garrison consists of a sergeant and a few men, 
 whose duties, while easy and pleasant, demand constant 
 attention ; but their lives run smoothly, and they find time 
 to entertain appreciative visitors with good old English ale 
 and cheese. Among their visitors, or rather neighbors, are 
 the little Barbary apes, whose origin is as mysterious as 
 their lives are sacred. The geese of Rome were not more 
 reverenced than are these harmless, timid creatures, that 
 play in the soft south wind. Shy and agile, they manage 
 to keep out of the reach of friendly hands, and it frequently 
 happens that they disappear from sight for long periods. 
 Cold winds send them under cover, but when warmer 
 weather returns, out they come, and make up for lost time 
 by racing over the jagged rocks, and performing a series of 
 intellectual feats, such as playing tag and leap-frog. The 
 sergeant told me that often during the dry months these 
 sagacious animals, being thirsty, would cautiously approach 
 
ETHNOLOGICAL SPECIMENS. 385 
 
 the paved yard of the station in search of water, and not 
 finding any, would ask for it by lifting a gun-ring and let- 
 ting it fall. Then they would scamper away at the noise, 
 and await results. It took some time to make the soldiers 
 understand what all this meant, but they at last interpreted 
 it to the satisfaction of the thirsty apes ; and now when 
 they hear a ring drop, the pump is set going and the trough 
 filled. It is considered good luck to catch a near sight of 
 these little tailless imps ; and yet I was surprised to learn 
 how rarely they showed themselves. 
 
 If there is any spot on earth that can show a more com- 
 prehensive collection of ethnological specimens in so lim- 
 ited a space, then I will place Gibraltar second in the list. 
 I believe every civilized country in Christendom has its 
 representatives on this barren rock, for, although the popu- 
 lation is only 15,000 exclusive of the military, it is so thor- 
 oughly mixed that one meets nearly every nation on earth in 
 walking up Waterport street. The natives, or "rock scor- 
 pions," take numerical precedence, and following unequally 
 are Englishmen, Spaniards, Portuguese, Italians, French- 
 men, Moors, Arabs, Maltese, Egyptians, Greeks, Turks, Rus- 
 sians, Austrians, and Americans. Jews — real tough Bar- 
 baryjews — have their place in this strange population, and 
 they have their synagogue too, close by a battery of big can- 
 non. Notwithstanding the old treaty, England permits these 
 ill-favored beings to enjoy all the privileges of equal rights 
 and religious protection, and they may stand on the street 
 corners and enlarge their phylacteries without losing their 
 liberty. 
 
 At first sight a stranger is deceived as to the population 
 of Gibraltar, for on entering at the Water Port he sees a 
 surging crowd of men and women, most of them decidedly 
 un-English, all doing something in the way of trading. 
 Donkeys and goats are numerous, and their unmusical 
 17 
 
386 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 remonstrances rise above the unintelligible jargon of the 
 market, where all are plying their commercial pursuits re- 
 gardless of honesty or of consequences. Pursuing his way 
 through the street, he sees small multitudes, so to speak, in 
 every alley and lane, and he begins to wonder how so many 
 people manage to live in a town so devoid of vegetation 
 and the bare necessaries of life as Gibraltar. After a day 
 or two he learns that these crowds are from without the 
 walls. They come in as soon as the gates are open in the 
 morning, going out during the afternoon before the gates 
 are closed ; for to be caught in town after the evening gun is 
 fired might entail considerable inconvenience. This horde 
 of humanity are unmistakably Spanish, and belong beyond 
 the Spanish lines, but they make their living by trading — 
 bringing in produce and fowls, taking back calicoes, rib- 
 bons, tea, coffee, sugar, and, last but not least, tobacco. 
 They have to smuggle this potent plant of civilization, for 
 the soldiers at the lines are very rigorous in their searches, 
 and woe to the unfortunate who is caught attempting to 
 evade the law of the kingdom. I used to walk out to the 
 lines to watch the operation of searching, and more sport 
 could not be had on the comic stage. The long train of 
 returning natives, with goats, fowls, donkeys, and vermin, 
 comes to a halt at the Spanish barrier, blockading the road, 
 and carrying on the loudest conversation I ever heard, evi- 
 dently impatient to undergo the ordeal that awaits them. 
 Pending this governmental inquisition they make arrange- 
 ments for meeting the officers of the customs by concealing 
 the contraband snuff and tobacco in every conceivable place. 
 I have seen them take offtheir shoes and put the interdicted 
 article into them, then sling them over their backs and go 
 on barefoot. The women arrange their hair so ingeniously 
 as to leave a cavity where a small package of the weed 
 may be comfortably concealed. Even further does the fer- 
 
INGENIOUS SMUGGLERS. 387 
 
 tility of their cunning go, and they evince no compunction 
 in devoting their capacious skirts and underclothing to pur- 
 poses of smuggling, nor do they forget that an infant in 
 arms possesses many possibilities in the art of evading keen 
 eyesight. Loaves of bread are ingeniously cut into two 
 parts, the soft inside taken out and the hole filled with 
 good tobacco, and then flung carelessly into the donkey's 
 pannier. This often accomplishes its purpose. 
 
 Of all ingenious plots, the one related to me by an Eng- 
 lish official beats them all. An old Spaniard was wont to 
 cross the lines daily with a drove of turkeys ; but hard luck 
 seemed to follow him, so that every night he returned with 
 the number scarcely decreased. He continued his honest 
 endeavors for many months, but nobody bought his tur- 
 keys ; yet he did not appear to be disheartened. Notwith- 
 standing this adverse fortune, the aged peasant made his 
 daily visit to the garrison, now and then selling a turkey, 
 but never more than one ; so he returned to the lines about 
 as turkey-laden as he went. But alas for the aged peasant ! 
 one of the innocent and unsaleable birds, wearied by too 
 much daily exercise, or overcome by the heat, took it into 
 its head to go into convulsions and die right before the pla- 
 toon of custom officers. The turkey-driver was transfixed 
 with terror, and to add to his woe the rest of the drove 
 became unmanageable, and indulged in a complicated 
 series of gymnastics that surprised the lookers on and 
 unfolded secrets worthy a prime minister. The turkeys 
 flew and fluttered, raising their unmelodious voices, mov- 
 ing their drooping wings, and resisting all attempts at 
 pacification. In the meanwhile the unfortunate cause of all 
 this disturbance was no more, and one of the soldiers started 
 to examine the fowl, when, to his utter astonishment, he dis- 
 covered small packages of tobacco ingeniously bound under 
 the wings. For months the enterprising old Spaniard had 
 
388 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 successfully carried on this game ; but like all good things 
 there had to be an end, and when I was in Gibraltar the 
 turkey trade was zealously watched by the minions of the 
 law. 
 
 The British government does not encourage a residence in 
 Gibraltar, and one must have a permit in order to be admitted 
 to the town. Even the countless throng from the "lines" 
 must show their passes, or admittance will be refused 
 them. The reason is obvious. Foreigners might learn 
 too many secrets, or military men in disguise as travellers 
 might obtain valuable information about the strength or the 
 weakness of the fortifications ; therefore, if one desires to 
 stay more than a day, his consul must sign a bond, and con- 
 stitute himself a sort of guardian over his fellow-country- 
 man. By following this course the population has scarcely 
 varied 1 ,000 souls in half a century. Residents must not 
 prowl around the sea mole after the evening gun is fired, 
 nor may they be out of their houses after eleven o'clock at 
 night, unless they show a permit or a good reason. My 
 lodgings were on one of the public squares, across which I 
 had to go unless I took a more secluded way, a proceeding 
 that depended on the hour. A captain's guard lounged 
 there day and night, and late wanderers were sure to be 
 challenged. It frequently happened to me, but a word of 
 explanation set me free, though often I have heard long 
 parleys between the sergeant and the belated pedestrian. 
 On the whole, it always seemed to me a safe kind of danger, 
 that added a mild excitement to the monotony of living in 
 times of peace. 
 
 If a love of soldiery interests one, then Gibraltar is fasci- 
 nating beyond any city in Europe. The garrison numbers 
 from 4,000 to 6,000 troops, mostly artillery, and yet when 
 I was there infantry was in the ascendency, for there were 
 three Scotch kilted regiments, besides the rifle brigade. Sol- 
 
CONFERRING THE VICTORIA CROSS. 389 
 
 diers were met at every turn, and their bright uniforms 
 gave a brilliant touch to the moving picture of Gibraltese 
 life. On Saturday afternoons the entire garrison moves 
 out the gates down on the North Front, as the sandy plain 
 between British and Spanish territory is called, and goes 
 through all sorts of war-like manoeuvres. Charges, retreats, 
 skirmishes, battles, parades, and reviews are practised be- 
 fore the governor and his glittering staff. During my sojourn 
 I saw the Victoria Cross conferred on a brave man. The 
 ceremony took place Monday afternoon on the rose-fringed 
 alameda, and a lovelier day never dawned. A warm sun 
 beat down upon the guns and bayonets, making them flash 
 and pulsate as if instinct with life. The tunics and plumes 
 showed in brightest hues as the garrison marched past 
 to form the hollow square — the picturesque and barbaric 
 Highlanders with bear-skin caps, red coats, plaid sashes, 
 and leggings with ugly daggers protruding, the corps of 
 engineers in dark blue, the rifle brigade in jackets and 
 trousers of solemn black, While in the centre of the great 
 square was the scarred and war-worn 24th regiment fresh 
 from the fields of Zululand. Around this wall of steel was 
 gathered half the population of the town, eager to seethe 
 ceremony. The commander-in-chief and staff formed the 
 side directly opposite the regiment about to be honored. 
 The consolidated bands, prior to the exercises, played their 
 liveliest and most popular music ; then at a signal perfect 
 silence fell, and Lord Napier of Magdala rode forward, and 
 the brave soldier, Williams, stepped from the ranks. In a 
 few words Lord Napier congratulated the humble private 
 for his courage and valor, then, dismounting, pinned the 
 precious badge on the soldier's breast. The bands struck 
 up their merry tunes, for the queen had been pleased 
 to give her cross to a man who at the risk of his own life 
 had saved the lives of six others who lay wounded in the 
 
39° AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 hospital at Rorkes Drift. Single-handed he defended his 
 comrades against the furious onslaught of the maddened 
 Zulus, and his reward was the iron cross. 
 
 Because of rains and winds I had prolonged my stay in 
 Gibraltar beyond my intention, for I did not want my visions 
 of Seville and Grenada obscured by mist and rain-clouds. 
 The slow and rheumatic steamer plying between Gibraltar 
 and Cadiz was not a model of sumptuousness, nor was 
 it rated Ai at Lloyd's. But the sky was serene and the 
 sea tranquil — points in our favor, and proving that in- 
 dulgent fortune had her eye on the " James Haynes," 
 and would allow no pranks to be played. Passing out of 
 the harbor, leaving the forts and water batteries behind, 
 we glided into the restless straits, and rolled on toward 
 Cadiz. 
 
 Tarifa and its weather-beaten lighthouse recalled legends 
 and history ; so did the scene of Trafalgar, where the im- 
 petuous ocean, unmarked by monument or cenotaph, seethes 
 and rolls, hiding from human eyes its immortal secrets. 
 Three quarters of a century ago Nelson and Villeneuve met 
 on this watery highway, and contested for the supremacy 
 of the waves ; and yet when I asked the Spanish captain a 
 few questions regarding the battle, he showed an igno- 
 rance as dense .as that of a Hottentot peasant. He kindly 
 informed me, however, that it was so long ago that he felt 
 no interest, and wound up by insinuating that he knew but 
 little about ancient history. 
 
 The gradual approach to Cadiz from the sea is highly 
 fascinating because of the constant changes which the white- 
 winged city undergoes as the steamer swings on her course. 
 The famous old town is viewed from every side, while in 
 the midst of turret and tower the great mass of houses, with 
 white walls that fairly sparkle in the sunshine, give it the 
 loveliness of a young bride. 
 
LANDING AT CADIZ. 39 1 
 
 No sooner had the anchor been dropped than a flotilla of 
 feluccas surrounded us, whose howling crews yelled for 
 patronage. The wind was now blowing furiously, and 
 these small craft bobbing up and down on the waves fur- 
 nished an unexpected close to the day's sail. The sights as 
 we got aboard were ludicrous beyond description, and the 
 leaps made that afternoon were wonderful to see. Fat men 
 and stout women, resolute in determination but slow of 
 action, let go an instant too late, and down they went in 
 a heap, only to be picked up by the laughing boatmen and 
 hurried aft. The waves splashed over the seats and ran 
 into the bottoms of the feluccas. Women uttered shrill ex- 
 clamations, and men muttered their disapprobation, but the 
 reckless waves heeded not our misery. As soon as a boat 
 was loaded, the tan-colored sail was hoisted, and away it 
 went, dancing and prancing over the white caps. As an ordi- 
 nary choice, I prefer myself to a trunk : the usage is some- 
 what different : but in Cadiz harbor I would gladly have 
 undergone an operation in metempsychosis and become a 
 leather portmanteau. The baggage remained where it struck, 
 but my experience was just the reverse. I must have jumped 
 ten feet on to a deck so slippery that my legs went from 
 under me like a flash, and I indulged in an unexpected slide 
 that brought up rather abruptly under a seat, just as a play- 
 ful billow broke over the gunwale and filled my mouth and 
 eyes with water. My discomfiture was now complete, but 
 I had to laugh it out in order to keep up the glee that my 
 little marine adventure had created. My revenge was in 
 laughing at the mishaps of others, although a critical ob- 
 server must have detected a painful reservation in my sud- 
 den hilarity. But I came out of my troubles in good shape, 
 for, on landing, my dripping garments moved the custom- 
 house officer to unwonted pity, and by the payment or 
 present of a peseta the considerate gentleman passed all my 
 
39 2 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 trunks and baggage, and by way of consolation hoped that 
 I would suffer no inconvenience from my drenching. 
 
 A stout porter seized my personal property, and we 
 started for the hotel. As in most cities of Spain, the hotels 
 are kept by Swiss landlords, and they endeavor to give a 
 fair return for one's money ; and yet the Spanish kitchen 
 will not suffer a change without an obstinate resistance 
 that must last through many years, and show itself when 
 least expected. Once an unusually pungent piece of garlic 
 found its way into my mouth, and later on, after the dam- 
 age had been done, I asked the polite Swiss landlord 
 why he permitted his cooks to use garlic so freely. M I 
 don't," he said ; " they have instructions not to use it pro- 
 miscuously, but they are always forgetting." So there it 
 is, in a nutshell. The bred-in-the-bone conceptions of cook- 
 ery are not easily eradicated, nor should they be, for there 
 are some truly national dishes which I would not exchange 
 for the specialties of the Cafe Bignon. 
 
 Cadiz was gray with age half a thousand years before 
 Romulus and Remus were born, and yet, paradoxical sure- 
 ly, it is the only new and burnished city in Spain. Even 
 in the Augustan era Horace complimented the fidelity of 
 his friend Septimus by declaring that he would go even to 
 Gades with him, — and Gades, as Cadiz was then called, was 
 looked upon as the veritable end of the earth. If history 
 possesses the power to press in the earth's surface, then this 
 jutting peninsula should show a cavity deep enough to hide 
 the old city beyond recognition ; but history does not pos- 
 sess this power, and travellers to-day, when they compre- 
 hend the vicissitudes of three thousand years of existence, 
 may well marvel at what they see. It is difficult, if not 
 impossible, to reconcile the modern Cadiz with the site of 
 the Phoenician colony planted there thirteen centuries before 
 Christ, and yet no amount of skepticism can prevail against 
 
cadiz. 393 
 
 the fact. Perhaps no spot in Europe has been the scene of 
 more strife and contention than this, and certainly there is 
 none where so many races have won and lost. It became 
 celebrated as long ago as the Punic wars. The Goths, the 
 Arabs, the Spaniards, the English, and the French have each 
 held it in turn, and each was loth to give it up ; and yet, in 
 spite of everything, the silver city reposes like a queen on 
 her throne in the sea. 
 
 The town is the nursery of radicalism in politics. The 
 people are born agitators, and only await a favorable oppor- 
 tunity to take up arms against the established order of things. 
 The government keeps its eyes wide open both day and 
 night, the fortifications are guarded by regiments of the 
 line, and the fleet stands ready with spring cables and 
 shotted guns in case of insurrection ; and yet, with all 
 this inherent discontent, the inhabitants love pleasure and 
 fun. The amusements are many and well attended : even 
 the bull-ring, despite its dilapidated walls, is said to con- 
 tain 15,000 seats, while the theatres and operas never lack 
 patronage. 
 
 Unlike other cities, Cadiz has no elasticity. She cannot 
 extend her dwellings into the country and present beautiful 
 suburban drives to her citizens. The sea hems in her walls, 
 and within their limits the 70,000 inhabitants must live and 
 die. Bombardments, conflagrations, and necessity have 
 done their good work in making Cadiz the most beautiful 
 city in Spain, and in point of cleanliness few indeed can 
 equal her. 
 
 Aside from the lovely sea and dazzling sun, her charms 
 are artificial. The promenades, the alameda, the Calle 
 Ancha, the venerable palaces moulded in the splendor of 
 architecture, the high white-washed houses and their exqui- 
 site courts, — all are made by hands ; but those hands have 
 wrought the beautiful. The streets, lined with lofty houses, 
 17* 
 
394 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 are straight and narrow, thus presenting admirable per- 
 spective views. Then to this, is added the wonderful array 
 of projecting balconies, — for every house has as many as it 
 has windows, just uneven enough in line to remove any 
 suspicion of monotony, — while lazily drooping over them 
 are bright green Venetian blinds ; and in the glaring sun- 
 shine this combination makes a picture rare and charming. 
 
 The Plaza of San Antonio is the popular breathing-place, 
 and in the mellow evening air, under the magic influence 
 of the moonlight, seiiors and senoras assemble, and like- 
 wise gay seiioritas and their escorts. The band plays the 
 liveliest of music, while these gay-hearted promenaders 
 pace up and down the Plaza till the stars begin to blink at 
 the coming sun. 
 
 The alameda is an alluring bit of oriental designing, 
 clinging passionately to the great, thick sea-wall, whose 
 giant form wards oft' the eager Mediterranean, and protects 
 the plants from sudden blasts. Here, under the palms and 
 date-trees, or amid the oleanders and roses, one may find the 
 most delicious leisure, safe from the inquisitive rays of the 
 sun, and fanned by the soft, sweet breeze from across the 
 harbor. I found great pleasure as well as exercise in mak- 
 ing a circuit of the sea wall, especially in the early morn- 
 ing, when everything was newly touched by the sun. How 
 the blue sea sparkled, and how purple were the distant 
 fields ! How brisk the market-place as I looked down from 
 my lofty promenade ! Surely, there is no spot in all Spain 
 where a body, weary with travel and change, can get so 
 much solace as in sea-girt Cadiz. 
 
 Sight-seeing need give no concern. The shapely cathe- 
 dral, with its twin towers and huge Corinthian columns, is 
 about all there is ; but after Barcelona and Valencia and 
 Seville, its interest dies at once, and a brief visit is sufficient. 
 In the crypt there is an astonishing echo, so jealous that the 
 
THE CITY OF SIESTAS. 395 
 
 least noise, like the low tone of conversation, disturbs it 
 mightily, and the reverberation is appalling. 
 
 Cadiz was so restful and attractive that I gave myself up 
 to her fascinations and stayed there two weeks, — and a red- 
 letter two weeks they were, because they brought leisure 
 and pleasure, and introduced me to some exceedingly kind 
 people, whose endeavor it was to make my sojourn agree- 
 able. I used to go out to the forts and watch the military 
 evolutions, which took place every afternoon. Then, weary- 
 ing of this, a love of the water would come over me, and 
 I would engage a boatman and sail around the harbor. 
 These boatmen are good-natured fellows, and willing; and, 
 although their stock of information is small, they have the 
 latest gossip at their tongues' ends. 
 
 Holy Week was approaching, and I was advised to hasten 
 to Seville in order to secure a room, inasmuch as all the prov- 
 ince flock thither at the sacred ceremonies. I must stop at 
 Jerez, said an English wine merchant — and at Jerez I did 
 stop ; and under the guidance of my friend, whose repeated 
 journeys into Spain had given him an acquaintance with 
 the wine-houses of the district, I stopped, I saw, I tasted. 
 
 Jerez is about an hour from Cadiz, and the train, consid- 
 erate of curious travellers, crawled on at a pace jDerfectly 
 consistent with wayside sight-seeing. I saw the hills where 
 the famous vineyards lie, surrounded by large tracts of ara- 
 ble land, with glaringly white fortress-looking farm-houses, 
 and occasionally I saw the square keep of an aged Moorish 
 castle overlooking the verdant landscape. This particular 
 district is one of the most fertile in the Peninsula ; and as I 
 rode through it on that tranquil day in March, and felt the 
 warm air as it came through the car windows, the old 
 legend of the horn of plenty was vividly brought to my 
 mind. I no longer wondered at the love bestowed by the 
 Andalusians on their favored province. 
 
396 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Jerez, like Cadiz, asks one to peer into the dim twilight 
 of history to find her origin, for she too is wrinkled and 
 black, although of late years a remarkable spirit of enter- 
 prise and improvement has taken hold of the people, and the 
 town is now able to show wide streets and handsome build- 
 ings. Near the railway station are seen the crumbling walls 
 built by the Moors, their crenellated tops suggestive of war ; 
 and farther on, the magnificent Alcazar, which, in spite of its 
 centuries of hard knocks, presents a study for the traveller. 
 
 The gentleman into whose charge I had resigned myself 
 took me straightway to the celebrated wine establishment 
 of Gonzalez & Byass, the largest and most complete in all 
 Spain, and there I saw how the sherry trade was carried 
 on, and how much there was to it. The entrance is from 
 the alameda, down stone steps and beneath an imposing 
 mediaeval gate, into an area of twenty acres, containing 
 press-houses, bodegas, distilleries, engine-rooms, railways, 
 cooperage-shops, and everything needed in making the 
 wine and sending it away. Mindful of the beautiful, the 
 proprietors have adorned this busy place with flower-beds 
 and fountains, and with walks shaded by palms and orange- 
 trees. The vineyards are some distance in the country, and 
 are not worth visiting unless one is especially interested in 
 vine-culture. My guide conducted me through numerous 
 storehouses or bodegas, where thousands of butts stood ready 
 for the market, and keeping them company were enormous 
 tuns of sweetest wine, each containing, so the figure said, 
 an amount equal to four thousand gallons. 
 
 A few time-stained butts attracted my notice, and at 
 my request their history was given. The widow Arroyo 
 sold them to Senor Gonzalez for £10,000, and, according to 
 my informant, but little remains of the liquid, most of it 
 having been sold at a great advance. As visitors from the 
 United States do not overrun the establishment, I may have 
 
JEREZ AND HER WINES. 397 
 
 been treated with rather more courtesy than I deserved. At 
 all events they showed and explained everything, and an- 
 swered my questions most freely. They introduced me to a 
 vintage older than my country, — so old that the date is not 
 known, hence is called Mathusalem. The wine was dark as 
 Dublin stout, and possessed a body capable of withstanding 
 a dozen changes of dynasties ; so I sipped sparingly. In 
 contrast was the amber-hued La Reyna and the full-bodied 
 Romano. Under the expert direction of my companion I 
 went through the bodegas in a scientific and highly satisfac- 
 tory manner. I tasted many wines, but swallowed little, 
 as such a practice vitiates the taste and prevents one from 
 detecting the fine qualities. The guide is to the stranger in 
 the well stocked bodega what the physician is to the sick 
 man, — his advice must be followed without a murmur, for 
 he alone knows what is best. When a man has spent two 
 hours in such an establishment as that of Gonzalez & Byass, 
 he could easily imagine himself the owner of the earth and 
 the residuary legatee of the universe. The arumbador is an 
 important factor in the wine-houses, and without him incal- 
 culable damage might be done. He is the man who plunges 
 the venencia into the butt and fills the glasses. This indis- 
 pensable instrument consists of a tube-like silver cup on the 
 end of a long strip of whalebone, and, although one of the 
 simplest contrivances imaginable, its use requires a profi- 
 ciency which but few ever acquire. The arumbador steps 
 on the rack, removes the bung, and sinks the venencia into 
 the aromatic wine. Drawing it out, he performs some 
 graceful sleight-of-hand, and succeeds in pouring it from his 
 tube into the wine-glass, which he holds in his left hand. 
 Considering that he holds the long ladle on a level with his 
 chin, and the glass in front of his waist, and changes the 
 liquid from one to the other without spilling a drop, — con- 
 sidering this, the feat may be put down as worth seeing, 
 
398 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 more particularly when one knows for whom the delicious 
 wine is intended. 
 
 The hotel where I dined contained so extraordinary a 
 specimen of " English as she is wrote " in foreign parts, 
 that I could not refrain from making a copy, which is lit- 
 eral in every particular: "Hotel de las cautro naciones 
 — Zaragoza. Great departments for families, baths — The 
 central office for all ways is found on the Low story partic- 
 ular carriages. M, Mrs, the travellers who will be kind 
 enough as to honor him with their confidence will there be 
 treat ed with the greatest consideration. They will find at 
 the house a superb dining room con for table restu rant 
 Coffee house and bill — iards bathing house great appart- 
 ments for families saloons & Co the whole nicely furnished 
 the service will be performed at every hour and in the par- 
 ticular appartments if they wish so — The clean — liness care 
 equity will be the base of all these things" 
 
 I looked upon this advei'tising essay with much pleasure, 
 and had I visited Saragossa, nothing could have kept me 
 away from the literary bureau of the Quartro naciones. 
 
 Seville, situated in a lovely plain and watered by the 
 classic Guadalquivir, may well arrogate to itself the proud 
 appellation of the Marvellous. Distinctively Spanish is 
 the population. Manners, customs, and garb indicate the 
 pure Andalusian, while the cathedral, palaces, and patios 
 testify to the ancient opulence and love of pleasure. Altars, 
 saints, relics, pilgrimages, pageants, are as much a feature 
 of Seville as the alameda or the tobacco factory ; priests 
 are more jovial and fat, and beggars more hideous and 
 gaunt. So intensely Spanish is Seville that midnight breeds 
 hilarity, and midday induces quiet. All the peculiarities 
 and romance of Spain seems to have been bestowed on 
 Seville, and the venerable legacy has continued unimpaired 
 to the present day. 
 
SEVILLE. 399 
 
 The old capital is jealous of modern visages, and a walk 
 through the winding streets does not reveal any new quar- 
 ter where regular facades and Mansard roofs crowd out the 
 awkward and hump-backed houses which have sheltered so 
 many generations. In this tenacity of purpose Seville dif- 
 fers from Barcelona, Valencia, Cadiz, and Madrid, and yet 
 the reason cannot be found in local decay or apathy. Se- 
 ville is not asleep, nor is it a laggard in modern enterprise. 
 Its manufactories are busy. Ingenious pieces of pottery 
 find thousands of purchasers, iron foundries belch out 
 smoke and cinders, wine and oil flow through the town as 
 through a conduit, tobacco and fruits go away and return 
 as shining gold, the river is alive with black hulls, and the 
 sky is criss-crossed with masts and yards. Round the fa- 
 mous Golden Tower laborers surge and shout, and the nerves 
 of commerce tingle just as they did in the halcyon days 
 when the portals of this ancient tower flew open to receive 
 the bullion from the new world. But then, Seville is such 
 a strange combination of the old and the new as to bewilder 
 the traveller. It is the sullen flame of the auto-de-fe and 
 the fierce glare of the electric light strangely commingled. 
 
 One's first impression is that the town is age-ridden and 
 paralyzed ; that the nineteenth century is a hundred years 
 ahead of its time, and that there is no disposition to catch 
 up ; but a careful inquiry and tour of investigation will dis- 
 close an undreamed-of activity so inconsistent with true An- 
 dalusian precedent as to give one a slight shock of incre- 
 dulity. During a somewhat extended stay I saw for myself 
 that Seville's life-blood was far from being coagulated. The 
 Moors loved this sun-bathed spot, and lavished upon it the 
 full measure of their wealth and enthusiasm ; but wars and 
 neglect have done cruel work, so that few evidences of the 
 Arabian prosperity remain. The dwellings are essentially 
 of Moorish origin and style ; so are the snaky streets wig- 
 
4<DO AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 gling through the mass of houses ; but the public buildings 
 were brought forth under a later dynasty, and as a result 
 they are left unobserved by the wandering stranger. It 
 requires a pretty strong passion for sight-seeing to ramble 
 about the great corridors and court-yards of edifices whose 
 histories go not back to the Arabian days, as the smell 
 of whitewash and paint is altogether nauseating to those 
 constitutions that love to exist in sight of flowering patios, 
 mediaeval gateways, and trickling fountains, where the an- 
 nals of a race long since obliterated seem to glow and live 
 again. 
 
 Seville is a world's fair as regards its population. Gyp- 
 sies and Jews are counted by the thousands, and live in 
 their respective quarters, whence they emerge during the 
 day to crowd the streets and make a strange frame to the 
 Spanish picture. I had looked upon this city and upon that 
 as containing the worst assortment of divine chattels, but 
 candor compels me to give an unqualified certificate in this 
 particular to Seville, for nowhere can a queerer rabble of 
 rags, filth, and squalor be found than in the districts 
 occupied by the gypsies and Moors. And yet I ven- 
 tured among them, despite the warnings against footpads 
 and disease ; but one conscientious visit quite sufficed — 
 the second was never needed. 
 
 Art and architecture have had their home in Seville from 
 the earliest times. Indeed, there has never been a period 
 since the middle ages when the paintings of Seville did not 
 challenge the admiration of the world ; and fortunate, too, 
 has been the town in giving to art two such masters as Ve- 
 lasquez and Murillo. This laughing spot has been singu- 
 larly favored by the gods. A climate soft and kindly has been 
 bestowed, the emperors Hadrian, Theodosius, and Trajan 
 were born within its limits, masters in art were once chil- 
 dren in its streets, and, lastly, the religion of Rome has 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 4OI 
 
 been fostered and developed under the grandest and most 
 sublime auspices. After the city on the Tiber comes the 
 city on the Guadalquivir, to show to the world those sacred 
 pageantries which are alike the wonder and admiration of 
 all beholders. 
 
 The cathedral will always live in my memory as the 
 world's crowning glory of architecture. It is the earthly 
 realization of those splendid mysteries that lie beyond the 
 curtain of life, and the human heart almost pauses in its 
 pulsation as the eyes for the first time behold its incompara- 
 ble interior. Pushing aside the leathern screen, how won- 
 drous is the scene before you ! A vast cave of uncertain 
 light is this magnificent cathedral, and yet its great painted 
 windows attract the sunbeams, and magnify them into slant- 
 ing sheets of flame. When the eyes have grown accus- 
 tomed to the twilight dimness, the indistinctness of columns, 
 chapels, paintings, and sculpture vanishes, and outlines 
 and form assume their true grandeur and elegance. The 
 gigantic columns supporting the fretted roof are no longer 
 objects of guess-work : they rise majestically, like the trees 
 of the Yosemite, and are lost in the gloom far above. 
 Along the walls chapels are ranged, with lofty railings 
 to protect their sacred precincts from the intrusion of the 
 curious. Bas-reliefs and massive pieces of sculpture look 
 down from the indistinct niches, and peering from golden 
 frames are the master-works of Spanish painters. The area 
 of the interior is large, and divided by eighty columns into 
 four aisles of most generous proportions, through which 
 superb ecclesiastical processions march and countermarch 
 during the festivals, while crowds stand aside, wrapt in 
 speechless wonder. 
 
 Spanish architects insisted on placing the great altar in 
 the middle of the church, and separated from the choir by 
 an open space : and they did wisely. Delicate steel rail- 
 
402 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 ings called rejas completely surround the altar, and stout 
 gates close in front of the altar steps. During mass they 
 are thrown open, the place is quickly rilled with women 
 in black attire, and the service goes on, accompanied by 
 the chants from the hidden recesses of the choir. Station- 
 ary seats are not practicable in these great churches, so the 
 custodians furnish chairs for those who desire, although 
 it is the custom with the women to carry along with them 
 small campstools, which they manage with skill and grace, 
 placing them in positions where they can keep their rest- 
 less eyes on all that passes. Time and time again have I 
 watched the indescribable play of these demure worship- 
 pers. The rosary, the missal, the fan, and the mantilla act 
 their pantomimic drama, and tell of sighs and love and 
 longings with an eloquence surpassing the power of 
 speech. 
 
 The grand altar, almost a church in itself, is never 
 suffered to grow dark ; its myriad lights beckon on the 
 faithful and the faltering, and its gorgeous embellishment 
 and trappings make captive the imagination of the agnostic. 
 In sombre companionship is the richly carved choir, where 
 monks and singing-boys offer up their sacred chants, while 
 overhead a pair of massive organs flood the aisles and naves 
 with exquisite music. Even into the remotest recesses do 
 these harmonies penetrate, wakening echoes from the fretted 
 ceiling, and reverberating even to the confines of the orange 
 court. 
 
 Behind the altar is the chapel dedicated to Ferdinand, and 
 over its ponderous gate is the effigy of the war-horse he used 
 to ride, while within are relics, flags, keys, chains, votive of- 
 ferings, and last of all the silver chest containing the skeleton 
 of the sainted soldier. In darker ages this was the rallying- 
 place for the militant, and very likely celestial visitants came 
 there to urge on the good work of keeping up the mem- 
 
FERDINAND'S CHAPEL. 403 
 
 ory of the dead monarch. Even now that excessive venera- 
 tion has not died away, and crowds flock around the grat- 
 ings, eagerly waiting their turn to be admitted. To those 
 whose experience with sacred anatomy has been limited to 
 one or two saints this exhibition is highly impressive, and 
 leaves its beholder surcharged with ecstasy ; but to those 
 whose wanderings have taken them into reliquaries innu- 
 merable, even the dry and shrunken presence of Saint Fer- 
 dinand fails to stimulate the not over-sensitive nerves, and 
 the sight is soon forgotten. 
 
 The treasury, as might be supposed, is overflowing with 
 riches, an enumeration of which would necessitate a cata- 
 logue of ponderous size, and to describe the gems, embroi- 
 deries, vessels, and princely gifts would be impossible. But 
 whenever I stood before its bronze portals, there was the 
 same patient crowd of men and women, all intent on exam- 
 ing the glittering objects which centuries of religious aggres- 
 sion and zeal have conjured into this precious chapel. 
 
 This cathedral called me to it every day, and each 
 visit revealed something of interest. The mass said in 
 a score or more of the small chapels brought out glowing 
 pictures, while the solemn vespers portrayed the full beauty 
 and sublimity of the ritual. One never wearies of this re- 
 ligious realm of Seville, dominated by the massive Giralda 
 tower, from whose battlements the Moor was wont to con- 
 template the glories of the Vega ; and to-day this same 
 luxuriant landscape charms the fancy and lulls the passions 
 just as it did six hundred years ago. What this Titan tower 
 was intended for does not appear, but it must have had a 
 mission, else its stupendous frame would never have startled 
 the world, and allied it to the Egyptian pyramids as a won- 
 der of human labor. Legends are not wanting to pique 
 incredulous minds, but they fail to assign a satisfactory 
 reason for this gigantic structure. At its base is the lovely 
 
404 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 orange court, where venerable trees still bear fruit and 
 rustle their leaves to the dancing wind ; and there we see 
 the great marble fountain, whose pelucid waters are as cool 
 now as in the reign of Al Mansur. The old mosque stood 
 there : so this shell-like basin was the Moor's first thought 
 as he turned his footsteps toward the holy shrine. He per- 
 formed his ablution thoroughly, but his Christian succes- 
 sors in worship have not deemed it necessary to eternal hap- 
 piness to do more than touch their finger-tips to the blessed 
 water, and this they do with lamentable stinginess and 
 caution. In the adjacent monastery is a library which no 
 American should slight, for among the volumes are some 
 that once belonged to Columbus. He read them carefully, 
 and made copious marginal notes in handwriting singularly 
 legible. The valuable books are securely guarded in heavy 
 glass cases, thus defying the sacrilegious attempts of society 
 vandals, who would think nothing of tearing out a leaf or 
 clipping out a specimen of the navigator's chirography ; but 
 honest travellers may gaze at the precious works and 
 indulge in all kinds of mental reflections. 
 
 At Rome Holy Week is not what it once was. The 
 mutations of politics and their results have stripped off 
 some of the scarlet livery, and the church, sensitive to the 
 quick, no longer regales the people with those gorgeous 
 processions which imparted an unwonted splendor to a 
 hierarchy that needed none. These out-of-door parades 
 have almost lost their glitter on the Tiber, and the sacred 
 week passes by with but little demonstration : but not 
 so in Seville. Spectacular and dramatic are the scenes 
 enacted during Holy Week. Palm Sunday is the begin- 
 ning and Easter the close of the elaborate display. Spend 
 this week in Seville, and there behold the commingling of 
 religion and levity, the marriage of the serious and the 
 comic. The experience is novel indeed, and, like the 
 
HOLY WEEK. 405 
 
 majestic cathedral, it is unique and incomparable. The ho- 
 tels were full of guests, the casas de huespedes or boarding- 
 houses actually bulged with overcrowding, and the more 
 humble quarters, where the frugal provincials lodged, must 
 have been packed like boxes of herring. 
 
 Holy Week brings scores of pilgrims to Seville, and the 
 number increases enormously every year — and why not? 
 This is Spain's grandest festival, and continues seven days 
 without cessation. Day after day the glittering processions 
 wind through the crooked streets, an endless, monotonous 
 shuffling of feet as the holy effigies are borne along on the 
 backs of men. 
 
 On Easter the bull-fighting season is opened amid the 
 joyous acclaim of twenty thousand patrons ; then on suc- 
 cessive days come races, regattas, exhibitions of paintings, 
 the opening of public buildings, addresses, while at night 
 the open squares are resplendent with fire-works and joyous 
 with music. The grand opera, especially imported, attracts 
 its votaries, for the prima donnas and the tenors enjoy a 
 world-wide reputation. The theatre offers inducements, 
 and the zazzuela, with its songs and light comedy, gathers 
 to itself the careless and happy. After seeing a Sevillian 
 Semana Santa, I readily understood how fascinating the 
 experience was, and how surely it became an absorbing 
 passion with the simple devotees. For a panorama of 
 exceeding beauty, go and look at Naples from the sea ; but 
 for a picture full of life and romance, go and spend Holy 
 Week at Seville. It is worth a long journey, and all the 
 discomforts and vexations of travel will disappear amid the 
 glamor of this new experience. 
 
 Connected with the parishes of the city are bands of men 
 known as the cofradias, whose mission seems to attain its 
 fulfilment on Holy Week, although their good deeds may 
 mark each day of the year. During this period of religious 
 
406 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 activity these societies parade the town, bearing in regular 
 order life-sized effigies or pasos. These images belong to 
 the parish church, and are given a thorough airing once 
 a year, when they meet the upturned gaze of countless 
 admirers. The number of pasos carried depends on the 
 wealth and means of each cofradia. Some can afford only 
 one, while others count five or six to their credit ; but 
 this numerical distinction is not taken into consideration. 
 The pasos follow one another so closely that the cynical and 
 envious are mute, and the solitary paso becomes merged 
 in the common pageant. The processions march through 
 the streets every day during Holy Week, but because of pro- 
 priety and the excessive weight of the figures they march 
 very slowly. Every day brings out new cofradias with their 
 particular representations, thus giving variety and novelty 
 to the display, besides lending an interest to what might oth- 
 erwise seem monotonous. But the paso by no means com- 
 pletes the spectacle ; it merely serves as a centre-piece around 
 which the strangest setting is generally placed, and so great 
 is the ambition to startle and surprise, that historical display 
 becomes a pronounced feature. The wise men, Herod, 
 Pilate, the Nazarenes, Jews, Romans, the rabble, the doc- 
 tors, the apostles, the money-changers, the virgin, the grand 
 scene on Calvary, the lamentations, the descent, and many 
 events in the life of Christ other than these, were made sub- 
 jects of representation during the week's observance. Each 
 paso deals with some one of these events. It may be the 
 crucifixion, in which case we see the realistic details of the 
 scene — the dying Saviour in company with the thieves — all 
 a masterpiece of sculpture ; while following the paso are 
 Roman soldiers and mocking Jews. To intensify the 
 dramatic picture, one of this hired rabble thrusts a long 
 stick with a sponge on the end into the calm face with 
 its crown of thorns, while every few minutes others go 
 
PASOS. 407 
 
 through the rending of garments. It maywell be conceived 
 that more or less repetition must take place, but with so 
 many pasos this cannot be helped ; and yet, while the gen- 
 eral appearance of many may be the same, the dressing of 
 the figures and their positions are different, and so are the 
 innumerable details essential to a clear conception of the 
 scene. No two sculptors have portrayed the same events 
 in the same way ; — human originality, to say nothing of un- 
 limited money, could never allow this ; — so, notwithstanding 
 we have several similar representations, the difference in 
 treatment is well marked. 
 
 It matters not where the cofradia may have its church. 
 The paso must be borne through the Sierpes — the princi- 
 pal street in Seville — thence across the Plaza de la Consti- 
 tucion, where the high dignitaries of the city are seated, 
 thence to the great cathedral. Many times during the march 
 do the weary paso-bearers set their burden on the ground 
 and refresh themselves with sweetened water ; then, having 
 rested, they again lift their heavy load, the bands play solemn 
 music, and the long, uneven line zigzags into the narrow 
 streets. As every procession must go this way, enterprising 
 speculators place chairs along the Sierpes and in the great 
 square, so that by paying a peseta one may become a part 
 of the show without the slightest discomfort. My chair 
 was usually on the Sierpes, whose exceeding narrowness 
 afforded a grand opportunity for a close inspection of the 
 jewels, dresses, embroideries, laces, and other trappings 
 with which the statuary was adorned, and I saw what an 
 adaptation of tinsel to glory the show was, and with what 
 small veneration the people regarded it. I used to see the 
 actors salute ladies in the over-hanging balconies, who, 
 pleased at the recognition, flung down flowers in return, 
 and hear the Roman consuls and high priests bandy loose 
 wit with the spectators seated along the route. 
 
408 AALESUND TO TETUAM. 
 
 Tobacco plays an important part in this pageant. Sol- 
 diers and disciples, scribes and pharisees, eagerly seize the 
 slightest pretext for smoking : out come the little packages, 
 and up float thick clouds of smoke. Those making up the 
 dramatis fiersonce of the cofradias are not all pious : many 
 are hired for the occasion, and bring with them an assort- 
 ment of personal habits which blend reluctantly with the 
 solemnity of the occasion ; but not even the most religious 
 suffer this to disturb them. 
 
 On Tuesday the jDrocessions were not many, lasting per- 
 haps an hour, but becoming larger every day, so that on 
 Friday the week's splendid ceremonies culminated in a pro- 
 cession of pasos that occupied a large part of the day, be- 
 ginning at two o'clock in the morning and ending late in 
 the evening, with only a few hours' intermission at noon. 
 Quite eight hours of flaring candles, singing nuns, and 
 chanting monks ; eight hours of shuffling feet, glittering 
 pasos, and surging crowds — and the pageant was over. 
 Through the dim and silent cathedral all these pasos were 
 carried. Pausing for a moment before the monument of a 
 thousand tapers, then moving slowly out the great doors to 
 low and heavy music, the brotherhoods and their fantastic 
 escorts resumed their march to the old parish churches, 
 where the sacred figures were again restored to their ac- 
 customed places behind the high altars. 
 
 Transformed into a royal sepulchre is the great cathedral 
 during Holy Week. The magnificent interior is dark with 
 the shades of night, and a strange hush pervades the grand 
 aisles. Worshippers kneel at the smaller chapels and 
 offer up their prayers, priests move quietly about the altars, 
 crowds surge over the pavements like threatening clouds, and 
 in spite of one's self a paralysis seizes upon the soul. It is 
 an association with the shades, a journey through the mys- 
 terious. Heavy curtains droop over the massive windows, 
 
HOLY WEEK. 409 
 
 the huge columns are wrapped in purple velvet, and over 
 the once flaming altar hangs a black veil. This alluring 
 spot is now deserted save by servants, who flit up and 
 down its sacred confines like errant souls incarnate, con- 
 demned by the gods to pace there in perpetual solitude. 
 On the altar no candle gleams ; the lights, before which 
 all who pass must make reverent obeisance, have been re- 
 moved to the lofty temple called the monumento, and 
 placed in the middle of the broadest aisle. 
 
 On Holy Wednesday evening I joined the people, on 
 their way to the cathedral to listen to the rendering of 
 the Miserere by Senor Gayarre. Within the railed enclosure 
 stood the singers, holding long candles that dispelled the 
 gloom and threw grotesque silhouettes on the walls, while 
 the full, rich notes of the Psalm rose in measured volume, 
 floating over the heads of the listening thousands and dying 
 away as softly as a child's breath ; then, rising like the 
 strong notes of an organ, they made the vast temple vibrate 
 with overmastering ecstasy. Superb to the last scene is 
 the portrayal of Holy Week. Even the washing of feet 
 is performed by the old archbishop, while on Saturday 
 morning the huge veil is rent apart, disclosing the grand 
 altar in lustrous illumination. Fireworks and music wel- 
 come the august moment ; men shake hands and women 
 exchange kisses ; children, even, detecting the meaning, 
 show an elasticity of movement quite comical. Outside, 
 on the green, artillerymen add their thunderous greeting 
 to the glorious event, and a long line of penitent and hap- 
 py pilgrims find their way into the presence of the arch- 
 bishop to seek his kindly blessing. It is the end of Lent, 
 and religious restraint no longer binds the mirthful Sevill- 
 ians. The city acts like a boy just out of school, and saucy 
 indeed are its pranks. The good time has come, and the 
 vivacious Andalusian begins his hunt for the golden apples. 
 
 18 
 
4IO AALESUND TO TETUAJV. 
 
 Holy week left the cathedral full of dirt and grease, for 
 the endless processions wore boots and carried candles ; but 
 all this disappeared in a day or so, leaving the edifice in its 
 former condition of religious burnishment. Once I saw 
 twelve young boys, clad in silks and laces, dance most mer- 
 rily at the foot of the altar steps — an extraordinary custom, 
 surely ; and yet the venerable hierarchy in creaking vest- 
 ments was massed on the altar, and smiled benignly at the 
 sight. An orchestra of string instruments urged on the gaily 
 dressed dancers with music neither voluptuous nor mourn- 
 ful. It was rather like some easy-moving fantasia, con- 
 scious of its hallowed surroundings. The boys sung to the 
 accompaniment of their clinking castanets, performing the 
 stately measures of the dance with a dignity far beyond 
 their years. Graceful and lithe, and handsome as well, 
 were those happy youths. Again legendary lore essays an 
 explanation of this custom, and again it fails to assign an 
 acceptable one. Lost in the faint glimmer of dawn is the 
 history of this beautiful dance. Even the wisest church- 
 man is as ignorant as the peasant, and despite its ancient 
 practice, the records of the church are hopelessly silent. 
 Thrice each year is this ceremony observed, and thrice is 
 the cathedral filled to overflowing. Constant training is 
 manifest in the motions. The legs, arms, bodies, and heads 
 show a marvellous precision. No false steps mar the pleas- 
 ure of the dance, as the boys whirl and march and counter- 
 march. Verily, the builders of the Seville cathedral must 
 have been madmen ! They made it the grandest of earthly 
 temples, and bequeathed to it splendid legacies. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 SEVILLE— CORDOVA— GRANADA. 
 
 THAT Seville is not wanting in practical charities the 
 hospital known as the Caridad abundantly proves, 
 and a visit there is full of interest. It was founded by a 
 reformed gallant, Don Juan Miguel de Manara, and, like all 
 institutions so unexpectedly endowed, rumor assigns vari- 
 ous reasons why the good work happened to be undertaken. 
 In his day, this Don Juan was the terror of husbands and 
 the beloved of wives. Duels to the death came as natural 
 consequences, but his ready rapier always prevailed. He 
 loved wine as well as song, and regulated his slumber 
 by the contents of the flagon. Night was turned into day, 
 and, although in the spring-time of youth, his incessant dissi- 
 pations began to sprinkle the white tinge of autumn over 
 his head. But disease fell upon him, and the handsome 
 cavalier became as miserable as a mule-driver. Indulgent 
 and pitying Nature lent her help, and he got well. Then the 
 memory of his past life came back to him, and he resolved 
 to do good to his fellow-men. Thus this large and admirably 
 conducted institution owes its foundation to one of the worst 
 rakes that Seville, a willing nurse of rakes, ever produced. 
 But it is all forgotten in walking through the cleanly wards, 
 where homeless and helpless old men find flowers and kind- 
 ness as they totter toward the grave. 
 
 In the church connected with the hospital are some of 
 Murillo's grandest conceptions, among them the Miracle of 
 the Loaves and Fishes, and Moses Smiting the Rock. 
 These are justly considered as masterpieces ; and yet, in the 
 
412 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 Museum, not a mile away, the walls are gemmed with 
 many other Murillos, — for no brush was more constant 
 than was that of the genial artist, who once earned his liv- 
 ing by painting cheap-priced Virgins and beggars to sell at 
 the annual fairs. Go anywhere in Seville and you will 
 come across this great painter's canvases, and a love for 
 him will spring up which time only strengthens ; and after 
 the lapse of years there will come over you an almost irre- 
 sistible desire to revisit the scenes and inspirations of Mu- 
 rillo's studies. 
 
 This Museum is a treasure-house of the never equalled 
 Seville school, and its spacious walls are covered with 
 paintings which money could not tease away. There one 
 may look at the best works of Velasquez, Zubaran, Her- 
 rera, Cano, Goya, Leal, and Murillo, who outnumbers 
 all others. Among his is the celebrated " Virgin of the 
 Napkin." To casual observers there is nothing remarkable 
 in its appearance ; but legend tells us that the monks once 
 asked for some souvenir from the great painter, where- 
 upon Murillo took a napkin from the table, and promised to 
 make its rough and colorless face glow with a divine con- 
 ception. How splendid was the result this little picture 
 alone can tell. What surprises me is that the monks of the 
 seventeenth century ever used napkins ; however, this skep- 
 ticism on my part did not lessen my admiration. 
 
 The churches of Seville are neither wonderful nor ordi- 
 nary on the outside, and their interiors are woefully com- 
 monplace, after the cathedral ; but their chapels are enriched 
 with works from the old Seville easels, and if one is in ex- 
 tatic search of old masters, these parochial sanctuaries must 
 not be passed by. 
 
 To the saturnine traveller, whose ideas of art are so crude 
 as to need stimulation, Seville offers a sight that cannot fail 
 to exert a spasmodic enthusiasm in his sluggish breast, and 
 
THE TOBACCO FACTORY. 413 
 
 to cause his heavy eyes to open wide. On approach, the 
 immense stone edifice, with countless windows heavily cap- 
 ped with balustrades of dignified sculpture, may seem like 
 a royal palace ; for soldiers pace up and down before the 
 massive gate, giving to the vicinity the unmistakable air of 
 governmental espionage. It is not a palace nor a war office, 
 nor is it the national mint ; and yet, tear it down, and the 
 Spanish exchequer would be like the pockets of rollicking 
 Don Caesar de Bazan. It is the famous tobacco factory of 
 Seville, and one of the sights of Spain. No wonder that it 
 needs military protection, for within its massive walls are 
 tons of rich Cuban weed, and a thousand black-skinned, 
 saucy girls. No sooner have you passed the imposing por- 
 tals, than this latter fact is made evident by sounds much 
 resembling the discordant and disconnected attempts of a 
 primary school to say its letters. It is the spontaneous chat- 
 ter of a thousand Andalusian tongues. 
 
 In long halls these girls sit and roll up package after 
 package of doleful cigarettes ; and how like lightning- 
 machines their nimble fingers go ! Long practice enables 
 them to keep up their average, and at the same time to carry 
 on lively conversations with their neighbors, or, more to 
 their taste, launch uncertain compliments to visitors. In 
 strange dialect they send forth broad satire and bare-faced 
 impertinence, at which every one hearing it laughs and 
 roars, while the embarrassed foreigner becomes the cyno- 
 sure of all eyes. These damsels are not overburdened with 
 strict conventionality, and the exceedingly modest man runs 
 imminent danger of getting red in the face ; but the ordeal 
 is not a long one. It passes quickly, but the experience, 
 brief as it is, leaves a permanent mark. Many of the young 
 women are mothers, and their offspring crawl about the 
 dirty floors, or slumber peacefully in empty boxes. Here 
 one sees a brilliant display of shawls and dresses, indicating 
 
414 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 an Indian-like infatuation for gaudy colors, highly out of 
 taste in their arrangement. Religion, however, hovers about 
 this worldly institution in the form of sacred pictures and 
 dimly-lighted shrines, and yet methought the number was 
 not disproportionate to the necessity. 
 
 The process of changing the layers of tobacco into cigars 
 and cigarettes was not very interesting, — not so interesting 
 by far as our Virginia factories ; but out of deference to the 
 guide, due appreciation was demanded, and given. Just 
 as the bell strikes, the careless throng emerges from the 
 colossal building, glad that the day's work is over ; it laughs 
 and shouts, pokes fun at everything, and, like an inunda- 
 tion, carries all before it. A few hours later you will see 
 some of these light-hearted creatures, in different attire, 
 promenading the Sierpes, or reclining on the soft cushions 
 of the cafes. 
 
 Pride, no less than necessity, furnished an Alcazar to 
 every one of these Morisco-Spanish cities. They all pos- 
 sess Alcazars, varying in size and magnificence, according 
 to ancient requirements. Many are splendid memorials to 
 Saracenic power and affluence ; others are only stone and 
 plaster structures, with few or no architectural glories ; but 
 courtesy classes them as Alcazars, and as such they rank 
 in corresponding dignity. The Alcazar at Seville is a per- 
 fect masterpiece of that rich designing and construction 
 which the Moors loved so well. Indeed, this palace sur- 
 passes the Alhambra in wealth of gorgeous decorations and 
 dazzling effects, and proudly claims for itself the first place 
 among the famous works of man. Its thick and impregna- 
 ble walls give it a fortress-like look, while its graceful arches 
 and richly tiled interiors instantly banish all thoughts of 
 war, and present to the imagination a marvellous succes- 
 sion of most dainty conceits. An elaboration until then 
 undreamed of gave an enduring lustre to the apartments of 
 
PEDRO THE CRUEL. 415 
 
 the palace, and to-day, after the passing of centuries, the 
 venerable walls and ceilings retain their color and burnish, 
 and afford to the lover of Mahometan art a rare opportu- 
 nity for study. 
 
 Every apartment and corridor helps to make up the per- 
 sonal history of the tyrannical Don Pedro, who spent his time 
 in beautifying this unique palace, and in chopping off the 
 heads of those nobles who offended his whimsical notions. 
 In the fourteenth century the courts and patios must have 
 been among the most sensuous spots on earth ; and yet, amid 
 the columns and the flowers, Pedro never for a moment for- 
 got how cruel he was. Heads fell from shoulders, living 
 bodies were cast into dungeons, maidens were delivered over 
 to him, innocence and guilt were the same in his eyes : in 
 short, he paused at no outrage, he shuddered at no crime. 
 Like Ivan the Terrible of Moscow, Pedro was the incar- 
 nation of fantastic art and relentless cruelty. The two cer- 
 tainly accomplished wonders, and left imposing structures 
 to adorn their widely separated capitals. 
 
 Pedro more than Ivan was addicted to grim humor ; so 
 he laid out the lovely garden of the Alcazar in shady 
 walks and arching bowers, and through the shrubbery he 
 placed water-pipes thickly perforated. Then this sangui- 
 nary joker concealed himself until the ladies sought this 
 fragrant spot for their evening stroll, when he turned on 
 the cold streams, drenching the beauties to the skin. This 
 practical performance in hydraulics afforded the old king 
 as much amusement as it did to crawl through long and 
 darksome tunnels to overhear secrets in order to surprise 
 somebody. He left an indelible impress on Seville, and 
 supplied the town with a stock of legends that may, not 
 unlikely, outlive the remotest traces of his magnificent pal- 
 ace. 
 
 Seville boasts of another distinguished citizen, the Mar- 
 
416 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 quis of Medina-Celi, who lived two hundred years after the 
 celebrated Pedro, and bequeathed to posterity a house as 
 singular as it is ornate. The " House of Pilate" is its ap- 
 pellation, but it is less a house than a palace. The old 
 marquis was a sort of religious pilgrim, whose love of 
 journeying took him to Jerusalem, where, among other 
 sights, he saw the house said to have been the residence of 
 Pontius Pilate. With a zeal which would have done credit 
 to a nineteenth century showman, he set about procuring 
 plans of the house so that he might cause wonder among 
 the pious Sevillians ; and the marble and stucco edifice at 
 the junction of crooked and pestilential streets is the result. 
 How faithful the representation is can only be surmised, but 
 the devout recognizes every line, angle, and holy associa- 
 tion, while the skeptic commends its symmetry and an- 
 tique treasures, and approves of the array of Roman gods 
 set up in the court-yard. The designers and builders were 
 Moors, and, in spite of plans, the patio, the galleries, and 
 the interiors conformed to the prevailing style ; and yet 
 with all this the sure signs of architectural degeneration are 
 everywhere visible. There is a sad falling off from the 
 work in the Alcazar. The exquisite touches so abundant 
 there are less numerous here, and throughout courts and 
 halls the changes of two centuries are painfully apparent. 
 
 The obsequious servant, clad in the ducal livery, fairly 
 earned his fee by giving us long sermons on the mutability 
 of human affairs, and by narrating the stories of urn and 
 bust even to the minutest details. He was a walking en- 
 cyclopedia, and wearied me. To test his readiness at inven- 
 tion, I called his attention to a curious pillar upholding a 
 section of the balcony, and the rascal told me it came from 
 King Solomon's temple. Had I spent another half hour 
 with him he would have convinced me that Pontius Pilate 
 was his maternal uncle. 
 
THE HOUSE OF PILATE. 417 
 
 One of the popes displayed most excessive generosity by 
 sending all sorts of relics to this house. The original pillar 
 to which Jesus was bound during the scourging was one of 
 them, and nothing excites so much fervor as this. They 
 show the representation of the cock, and willing eyes love 
 to rest upon its mute figure : they even point out a vase 
 containing the ashes of Trajan, and expect people to believe 
 them. These sacred objects do not increase the effect of the 
 interior, however much they soothe the asperities of war- 
 ring consciences. I turned from them in search of the 
 truly beautiful, and I caught a glimpse of it. 
 
 Through a long and ornamented casement set in a frame 
 of fluted marble I looked out into a miniature garden — such 
 a garden as Queen Mab might fancy — where roses blushed 
 as they met strange faces, and where, amid the fragrance, 
 luxuriant vines spread a thick green mantle over the gray 
 old walls. In the centre of this fairy domain an ancient well 
 rears its moss-capped head, as if to invite the thirsty to par- 
 take of its cool waters in remembrance of the historic spot. 
 Across the little enclosure, set in sunken masonry, is an ad- 
 mirable specimen of a Moorish window, deeply recessed, 
 and protected from without by ingeniously wrought railings, 
 through which captives of love may once have gazed into 
 the hearts of knight errants. 
 
 One day a Spanish friend took me to a walk about the 
 old town, and I then saw what a large and grim city Seville 
 was. The houses conform to no regularity, and the streets, 
 although as level as a floor, are hemmed in by the worst 
 collection of habitations conceivable. Whitewash tries to 
 hide the decay, but complete rehabilitation is impossible. 
 The facades are gnawed with age, and the projecting balco- 
 nies are dimmed with rust, and yet as one strolls along, tak- 
 ing heed of the imposing archways leading into the inner 
 courts, a forgetfulness steals over one's prejudices, and facade 
 18* 
 
418 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 and balcony fade out of mind as the beauties of the patio 
 unfold themselves. 
 
 The patio is a small, square yard paved with tiles, around 
 which the mansion is built. Opening upon it from each 
 story is a wide balcony, upheld by shapely columns and 
 curved arches extending around the four sides, while be- 
 hind it are the apartments of the family. The patio is 
 open to the sky, thus admitting light and air ; but during the 
 summer solstice, when the sun gets too inquisitive, thick 
 mats are drawn over the open surface for comfort's sake. 
 According to the owner's purse are the embellishments of this 
 speck of Spanish Arcadia. Some are elaborately adorned 
 with sculpture and plants, and are irresistibly inviting ; 
 others are plain and inexpensive, and yet tenacious of infi- 
 del blessings ; fountains gurgle and sing all day long ; even 
 at night, amidst profound silence, these waters keep playing 
 their gentle serenades. Here in the evening the family 
 gather to converse, or find amusement in games and music, 
 or to receive their friends ; and late at night the faint glim- 
 mer of swinging lamps falls upon merry companies. It is 
 the only home the Spaniard knows : his language has denied 
 him even a synonym for home : but there, in the soft atmos- 
 phere of his patio, he cannot but find repose and content- 
 ment. 
 
 My companion paused before a heavily capped gate, im- 
 posing as that of some ducal palace, and remarked that it was 
 the entrance to the Foundling Hospital. The outside walls 
 were cheerless, and thick gratings like those of a prison hung 
 over the deep windows, shutting out light, and suggesting 
 purposes other than the succouring of infants. And yet be- 
 hind the forbidding stones are broad courts with plenty of 
 sunshine, with birds and fountains and shrubbery, and fac- 
 ing them are dormitories cleanly and comfortable. I did 
 not inquire into the foundation of this charity, nor did I read 
 
THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL. 419 
 
 its rules, but the little iron cradle set in the wall near the 
 street entrance gave some information as to its practices. 
 This cradle appears and disappears as if by magic. A pull 
 at the bell does the good work, and in the twinkling of an 
 eye the innocent outcast is deposited in the receptacle and 
 received as a member of the institution. The mother need 
 never be known in this transaction ; her secret is safe, and 
 strange but kindly hands bestow a mother's caresses. This 
 hospital is in a flourishing condition, and keeps locked up 
 in its great heart the woes and misfortunes of generations of 
 unfortunates, who, were it not for the revolving cradle, 
 might add crime to misery. 
 
 The bull-ring in Seville is very suggestive of Roman 
 coliseums in sturdiness and clumsy architecture : stone and 
 stucco are the materials employed in its structure, and 
 rusty, trough-shaped tiles cover the gallery roofs. The en- 
 trances, like the gates of a walled town, were built in med- 
 iaeval times, when tauromaquia was a royal sport and gran- 
 dees were espadas. The ring is gray with age, and preg- 
 nant with the history of two centuries or more of Easter 
 fights ; but the time will come when the new order of things 
 will clamor for more sumptuous accommodations and mod- 
 ern improvements. Seville is behind her sister cities in the 
 perfection of her Plaza de Toros, and this must be humili- 
 ating, for Seville has always been the recognized foster- 
 mother of bull-fighters. 
 
 The Jews' quarters present a fruitful study in rags and 
 squalor, and so do the habitations of the Moors ; but these 
 evidences of genius were never interesting to me. Italica, 
 the birthplace of emperors, still retains a suggestion of better 
 days, and has some Roman ruins to show, and yet a visit 
 there is not as profitable to the seeker after sights and expe- 
 riences as the same hours spent in prowling in and out the 
 by-ways and streets of the vivacious and original peopled city. 
 
420 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 I was in Seville twice, — once in December, and again in 
 March, — spending in all quite a month. The climate was 
 soft and consistent, and the skies propitious. Unlike so 
 many European cities, Seville is never monotonous and 
 fretful, for there is ever some new sight to see or some new 
 place to visit. Even the Cathedral and the picture galleries 
 are always new : they never cause weariness by repeated 
 visits. Go and view the mass of yellow stone, from this 
 point and from that, or pass into its grand interior by its 
 different portals, and an entirely new aspect is presented. 
 The Cathedral is so stupendous and magnificent as to para- 
 lyze the imagination. And so with the city and its hundred 
 thousand inhabitants : it is a kaleidoscope of humanity in 
 silk and tatters, of spires and towers and open greens, of 
 lofty houses and dull red roofs, of priests and soldiers, of 
 cigarettes and mandolins, of virtue and license unrestrained, 
 of dark alleys and glittering parks, of donkeys and pranc- 
 ing steeds, of midnight serenaders and slow-pacing funerals, 
 of loud-shrieking hawkers and way-shrine penitents ; — such 
 is the changing view which honest eyes may behold every 
 day in the great city on the Guadalquivir. 
 
 Seville and Cordova are not far distant from one another, 
 and the journey by train is quickly made. The same glow- 
 ing landscape that captivated the Saracens still charms the 
 traveller of to-day. Long stretches of downy fields, with an 
 occasional patch of the peculiar red soil worked in for con- 
 trast, make a picture as fascinating as it is rare. Cultiva- 
 tion peeps out on all sides, but the soil is so fertile that man 
 is not compelled to toil early and late to get abundant re- 
 turns. Nature most generously provides fruits and grains 
 and vines for the indolent dwellers of Andalusia, and with a 
 singular dispensation relieves the railways from fence-build- 
 ing by supplying an unwonted growth of aloes. These 
 plants flourish with wonderful vigor, attaining great size and 
 
CORDOVA. 421 
 
 strength, and are so set out along the track as to hem in the 
 railway with an almost impregnable barrier. 
 
 Among my fellow-passengers was a priest on his way to 
 Madrid, but he told me he should pay a visit to friends in 
 Cordova, and offered to act as my guide. Despite a crafty 
 and unpleasant face, he proved a valuable companion, as 
 reading and travel had given him a polish and manner quite 
 cosmopolitan. He related his experiences in different lands, 
 and had no hesitancy in criticising and ridiculing whatever 
 failed to sooth his lively prejudices. But he knew Cordova 
 by rote : its history, annals, and legends were at his tongue's 
 end, and its crooked lanes and blind alleys were as familiar 
 to him as to the house cat. Under his clerical guidance I 
 visited the celebrated scenes of old Cordova. I marvelled 
 at what I saw, and, in fitting conclusion, I became absorbed 
 in sad reflections. 
 
 Set in a paradise of exceeding loveliness, with nature 
 kneeling at her feet, Cordova ought to be the queen city of 
 Spain and the happiest of the happy. But fate has been 
 unrelenting, and the wondrous capital of the Arabs has 
 now sunk into the insignificance of a provincial town. Sor- 
 rowful indeed have been the years since the reign of the 
 caliphs — years of decay and weakness, of gloom and hope- 
 lessness, without one promise for the future. 
 
 This sad transformation is hard to realize in walking 
 about. The houses are cleanly, the citizens evince no dis- 
 position to be miserable, and the public places resound with 
 idle chatter. If decay has seized hold of the town, we trav- 
 ellers fail to see it. There are ruins, to be sure ; but Spain 
 is made up of ruins and vanities. Crumbling arches and dis- 
 located walls always help to interpret history, and Cordova 
 forms no exception. The number of dwellings and public 
 edifices is too large for the place, and it is this, perhaps, that 
 makes one feel lonesome and discontented. While Cordova 
 
422 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 has many features of interest, a brief stay is quite sufficient, 
 and one visit carries with it a peculiar recollection of mel- 
 ancholy and unrest. 
 
 For a city whose "streets were the first to be paved, the 
 example is frightful ; for nowhere, save in torrent-plowed 
 gullies, can a more excruciating arrangement of stones be 
 found. As I picked my way through the hurtful places, 
 giving my ankle a wrench in spite of extra precaution, I 
 thought how efficacious would be this via dolorosa in the 
 discipling of recalcitrant sinners. A journey well done 
 ought to effect a permanent reform ; it surely would in my 
 case, even though I were steeped in iniquity. Civil engi- 
 neers flourished centuries ago ; but their skill was given to 
 bridge-building: and fortifications. Such minor necessities 
 as streets seemed never to engage their attention. So Cor- 
 dova furnishes an oriental puzzle in the mysteries of zig- 
 zaggery. Full of agonizing twists and turns are the streets, 
 and the more crooked they are the sharper and more uneven 
 the paving. A lesson in sea-sickness might be profitably 
 learned by walking briskly from one end to the other of 
 these serpentine alleys. Even the so-called street leading 
 from a grass-grown square to the great mosque, and digni- 
 fied by the name of Calle Jesu-Maria, is a marvel of de- 
 tached tortures, not at all conducive to complete equanim- 
 ity of the mind. 
 
 However, these are merely transient things, which soon 
 die away, leaving naught but comical reminiscences to con- 
 jure up against poor old Cordova. 
 
 High yellow walls, with embattled parapets, enclose 
 the mosque, giving it the appearance of a military institu- 
 tion rather than a sanctuary ; but it is not easy to see how 
 this could be avoided. The plan of the temple insisted on 
 a low and unattractive exterior : a lofty facade would have 
 been ridiculous and in ill taste. Into the expanse of oranges 
 
THE MOSQUE. 423 
 
 and lemons and mournful cypress trees my guide con- 
 ducted me. It was a beautiful garden, whose high walls 
 keep eternal vigil over flowers and fruit and drowsy human- 
 ity. This is the much sung-about Court of Oranges ; and 
 surely the spot does invite the lyre to sing its sweetest, for 
 peace everywhere pervades this little Utopia. In the cen- 
 tre, a mammoth marble fountain plays all the year round, 
 attracting to its refreshing sides multitudes of Cordovan 
 Rebeccas, who are duly admired by the not over-critical 
 Jacobs. Stone benches are placed against the walls, and 
 somnolent husbands appropriate them with commendable 
 regularity. This sun-showered court-yard, protected from 
 rough winds, affords an excellent retreat for lazy men and 
 beggars, and not even sudden rain banishes these lizards, for 
 they are up in an instant seeking shelter beneath the friendly 
 porticos of the mosque, only to return after the shower. 
 The precincts containing the mosque and the Court of Or- 
 anges form a great area of several hundred thousand square 
 feet, that of the latter alone being more than two hundred 
 thousand feet. Thus the immensity of this wonderful under- 
 taking gives it a solitary mystery among the structures of all 
 ages. Had the religion of Islam succeeded in overrunning 
 western Europe, Cordova was to be its religious capital, and 
 this mosque was to be its sublimest temple ; and so, to be 
 prepared for the coming triumph, vast quarries were deplet- 
 ed and existing churches robbed in order that this should be 
 made the masterwork of earth. Pause beneath the arched 
 gateway and survey the extraordinary interior, — then say if 
 the followers of Mahomet did not fulfil their vow. Earthly 
 vision never beheld magnificence like this ! A thousand 
 polished columns, placed with mathematical accuracy and 
 separated by equal distances ; a thousand columns of marble, 
 jasper, porphyry, and rare granite, gathered from the monu- 
 ments of Nimes and Tarragona and Narbonne, and from the 
 
424 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 temples of Carthage and Alexandria ; a thousand columns of 
 many shapes and varied colors, surmounted by Doric and 
 Corinthian capitals, giving support to the semi-circular 
 and horseshoe-shaped arcades, — form that grand perspective 
 which cannot be imitated, and never surpassed. Upon the 
 sturdy arches rests the cedar roof, with its wealth of gild- 
 ing and ingenious sculpture, the crowning work of Arabian 
 artists, who came from the far East that they might make 
 their names immortal by their marvellous skill. Inlaid are 
 golden stars and crescents, which, under the influence of the 
 slanting sun, gleam and brighten like the hosts of the sky, 
 and coax the dim interior into a superb resemblance of a 
 wooded park at twilight. The rich glass in the ceiling is re- 
 luctant to let in the day, and only soft streamers of light play 
 upon the glistening capitals and mosaics. A perpetual shade 
 involves everything in mystery and solitude. This was not 
 so during the reign of the caliphs. Then a countless array 
 of perfumed lamps flung their golden beams into the vistas, 
 where worshippers dropped on their knees and offered up 
 prayers to Allah ; now, under the dominion of Rome, the 
 naves are gloomy and deserted. 
 
 The brilliant scenes enacted in the mosque during the 
 ascendency of the caliphate can only be revived in im- 
 agination ; and even then the glowing pictures will suffer 
 the loss of innumerable details, and be imperfect. We of 
 this age can know but little of the startling ceremonies and 
 customs of this Mussulman temple. The world has cooled 
 a good deal since the days of Abdurrahman and his succes- 
 sors, and given us quieter and more moderate practices. The 
 Mahometan ritual, unlike the Romish, lacked many semi- 
 military and imperial features, and depended not so much 
 on imposing processions and sacred relics as on the steady 
 enthusiasm of its believers. And yet the forty marble 
 streets, with their overhanging arches, afforded opportunity 
 
MARBLE STREETS. 425 
 
 for religious displays such as Seville might envy. How 
 far this was taken advantage of we can only conjecture from 
 the annals of that period. But beautiful beyond description 
 must have been the interior up to the time of the Christian 
 conquest. Then many arcades led from the Orange Court 
 into the mosque ; now there are only five, the others having 
 been closed by the Spaniards. Then the pavements were 
 of rarest marbles, arranged in artful inconsistency, and were 
 the glory of western Europe ; to-day common red tiles rest 
 there instead, the marbles being lost. Then golden devices 
 covered the columns, and marvellously delicate mosaics 
 adorned the spacious walls ; now to see them one must 
 look sharply, for unsightly plaster has been smeared over 
 everything. 
 
 Under the plea of purification, the Catholics removed and 
 erased as much as possible. They even destroyed the 
 fountains, and set in their places ill-visaged saints, upon 
 whom the grime of years has gladly accumulated, and for 
 purification's sake they took out hundreds of the shapely 
 columns in order to make room for a cathedral and choir. 
 Placed in the central aisles is this Romish altar, and a 
 more exquisite specimen of design and finish does not exist; 
 but it is woefully in the way, and is nothing short of an im- 
 pertinent intrusion. No wonder Charles raved and stormed 
 when he saw the results of such devastating enthusiasm. 
 He said they had put there what might have been put else- 
 where, and they had taken away what could never be 
 replaced : and latest generations will always be in accord 
 with the emperor. 
 
 The pulpit used by the Moors was of ivory and spiced 
 woods. Egypt and Araby contributed it, and its ten thou- 
 sand panels were engemmed and gilded. From this gor- 
 geous throne preachers discoursed on love, morality, fidel- 
 ity, and war, while the worshippers remained as silent as 
 
426 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the glistening columns. At the close the pent-up feelings 
 found expression in loud exclamations of " Allah ! Allah ! 
 there is no God but Allah ! " and the murmur, rising like a 
 coming tempest, swept into the remotest chapels and out 
 into the beautiful Orange Court. 
 
 At the extreme end of the mosque is the wonder cave, 
 known as the Mihrab, or Holy of Holies. Here, according to 
 belief, rested the Spirit of God, and no spot in Islam was 
 more venerated. Extraordinary and indescribable is this min- 
 iature chapel. The Mihrab is a deep recess, seventeen feet 
 in circumference and twenty-five in height, cut in the solid 
 wall. Here was kept the celebrated Koran, of fabulous value, 
 whose mysterious disappearance was long the theme of his- 
 torians ; and here, in stately procession, came the caliphs to 
 pray. The entrance is beneath a honey-combed arch, with 
 deep azure sides inlaid with mosaics, which glisten like the 
 crown jewels in London Tower, and quite bedazzle one at 
 first ; but it vanishes in a moment when one steps into the 
 octagonal niche. Then one is overcome with bewilder- 
 ment. This part of the mosque is precisely as the Moors 
 left it. Not so much sacrilege as a pin-scratch is anywhere 
 visible, and the wanton breath of so-called purification has 
 not dimmed the glossy marbles, or defiled a single ara- 
 besque tracing. But the Spaniards deserve no good words 
 for this forbearance. An utter ignorance of its existence did 
 the work of preservation, and when it was discovered, in the 
 early part of this century, hatred of the Saracens had died 
 away, and along with it the inordinate zeal of obliteration. 
 
 To securely seal up this sacred Mihrab so that pollution 
 might not stain its spotless interior was the parting work of 
 the vanquished infidels ; and they did their sad task so well 
 that it remained hidden till long after the proud kingdom 
 of Spain had lost its prestige, and sunk into insignificance 
 among the nations of the earth. 
 
THE MIHRAB. 427 
 
 In this marble cave the Moslem used to crawl round on 
 his knees, making the circuit seven times, and mumbling 
 prayers all the while, then bowing thrice, silently took his 
 departure. As proof of this peculiar devotion, the hard 
 floor is deeply furrowed where the knees pressed upon it. 
 This evidence of religious devotion was one of the exceed- 
 ing few I really believed. The walls are formed of marble 
 panels, and the spotless dome, in a single block, is grooved 
 like a huge shell, and deeply cut in the cornice are scripts 
 from the Koran. 
 
 Just outside are those splendid specimens of mosaic art 
 said to be the richest in existence, and the claim is well 
 founded, for nowhere in all the handicraft of Byzantine 
 wonder-smiths can the like be seen. So faultless are the 
 symmetry and arrangement of each particle, that one really 
 has doubts about its being artificial. Minute bits of glass 
 cubes are so delicately placed that the keenest eye is de- 
 ceived, and yet each shining atom engrossed hour after hour 
 in order to attain the required perfection. 
 
 No traveller can know this mosque in its entirety : to 
 do so would be almost impossible, and a fugitive visit is 
 only self-inflicted cruelty : but once seen, even for a brief 
 half hour, it will never fade from the memory. Stupen- 
 dous in conception and magnificent in completion, the 
 mind reels in the presence of the thousand columns and 
 airy arches, — literally, I say, the mind is unsteady at the 
 spectacle, nor can it be reconciled to the undisputed fact 
 that this colossal mosque, and all therein, was conceived, 
 born, and reached its growth in the space of two decades. 
 In twenty years the work begun by Aberrahman was com- 
 pleted by his son Hisham ; in less than the brittle span of 
 one generation the banks of the Guadalquivir were adorned 
 with a temple so splendid that all coming centuries will 
 pay it homage. It is the supreme development of Islam 
 
428 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 architecture, and the incomparable monument to a race 
 whose sudden rise and fall surpasses the fiction of all lit- 
 erature. 
 
 Cordova is full of antiquities antedating the Caesars, and 
 only a short distance from the buttresses and battlements of 
 the mosque is the massive gateway of a Roman bridge, 
 whose great abutments were sunk into the thick brown 
 current many centuries before the hosts of Tarik flung their 
 lances across the face of Europe. Leaning over the mossy 
 parapets, I looked down upon the warped roofs of the 
 quaint mills where the Moor used to grind his corn and 
 sharpen his spear. Around their rugged forms sweep the 
 churning waters, but the wheels long, since made their 
 last revolution, and the picturesque old sites are given up to 
 bats and vermin. This romantic stroll takes one through 
 the pleasing suburbs of the town, which, quite contrary 
 to the usual suburban customs, are cleanly and fragrant, 
 and evince a mild type of rustic enterprise. 
 
 When night closed over the housetops, and moonbeams 
 played, all the grandeur of ancient days came back, and I 
 saw the busy capital, with its universities, libraries, schools, 
 and its train of students ; I heard the voice of industry and 
 toil, and beheld the wondrous product of its thousand 
 looms ; I listened to weird music floating upward from 
 the streets ; I heard the muezzin cry out from the lofty 
 minarets of the mosque ; and from my casement I detected 
 silent figures clad in long gowns moving on toward the 
 place of prayer. Then my reverie vanished at the long, 
 monotonous drawl of the shambling sereno, who paused 
 beneath my window with his "Hail, Mary, most pure ! two 
 o'clock has struck." Spain and things Spanish again sur- 
 rounded me, but Cordova, the bride of Andalusia, was ever 
 present in my dreams. 
 
 The journey to Granada lasts all day, and is a constant 
 
ON TO GRENADA. 429 
 
 series of changing pictures painted in brilliant colors, por- 
 traying the gentle and rough of Spanish scenery, blissful 
 fields, mountain peaks, and angry torrents plunging through 
 black gorges. If one can spend but a few days in Spain, 
 let those be spent in Seville, Cordova, and Granada, and a 
 lifelong delight will be the return. There one will see all 
 the architectural glories of two races, together with scenery 
 at once serene and imposing. Blot out the rest of Spain, 
 leaving Andalusia and Granada, and the world would lose 
 nothing that could not be replaced ; but these twin prov- 
 inces, bright gems in the necklace of nature, are sacred to 
 the gods themselves. 
 
 Late in the evening the lights of Granada twinkled in 
 my face, and a day of exquisite pleasure came to an end. 
 Through the old and dusky Moorish streets lumbered the 
 hotel diligence, its one weary lamp just ready to expire, and 
 its mules more than willing to lie down and sleep ; but on 
 we went, with frequent stops, to the foot of the hill. There 
 an additional mule was attached, and under the vigorous 
 cracking of whips and vociferations the creaking convey- 
 ance plunged up into the darkness beneath a great arch, 
 and along the wooded avenue leading straight to the very 
 portals of Boabdil's palace. Grateful and soothing are 
 lofty trees and murmuring streams at midday, but in the 
 night-time they lose their attractiveness, and assume a por- 
 tentousness which only long familiarity can dispel ; and 
 within the walls of the Alhambra park the murmuring 
 darkness evoked a mystery out of which the ghosts of 
 slain Moors might leap and seek revenge. 
 
 An ambition to be patriotic kindly led me to the Hotel 
 Washington Irving, and there I made my home for nearly 
 a month. Across the road is the Hotel Siete Suelos, kept 
 by a fat old Spaniard with two attractive daughters, whose 
 vivacity and good looks really constituted the only point of 
 
43° AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 difference between the two hostelries. So far as food went, 
 the guests of each inn were always regretting they had not 
 gone to the other. However, we all managed to live and 
 enjoy ourselves, but a more liberal larder would not have 
 lessened the pleasures of a prolonged stay. 
 
 Granada, with its marvellous fertility, was well chosen 
 as the home of the Moor, and under most favorable condi- 
 tions the great city of industry and art sprang up and be- 
 came wealthy and powerful. For strategic reasons the 
 hill lying to the north of the Moorish city was selected 
 as the site of the fortress and royal residence, and sur- 
 rounded by thick walls and defended by the most powerful 
 of arms. Within that strong enclosure was the famous 
 collection of buildings known throughout the world as the 
 Alhambra, whose, area comprised about thirty acres. It 
 was oblong in form, and its angles were strengthened by 
 massive square towers, save on the river side where the 
 precipitous rocks bid defiance to assault. As may be sup- 
 posed, the inroads made by enemies and earthquakes have 
 undermined and toppled over many of these great defences, 
 although there yet remain a few sturdy citadels in all their 
 Moorish majesty. The walls are constructed of a peculiar 
 clay containing a large amount of iron, which gives them 
 a highly ornamental appearance, especially in the early 
 spring-time when the verdure and flowers are at their 
 brightest. In some sections of the walls the bricks are 
 of an unusual size, while in others they fall far below the 
 average American measurement ; and yet why the sizes are 
 so different does not appear, unless it is that methods kept 
 changing during the period of construction. 
 
 That part of the Alhambra comprising the palace, the 
 halls, and the other decorated edifices, is situated within a 
 separate enclosure, shut off from outside Granada by massive 
 facades and thick walls, and is as exclusive as stern regula- 
 
GOVERNORS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 43 1 
 
 tions and watchful care can make it. It used to be, and 
 may now be, the custom to appoint a governor of the Al- 
 hambra, whose dominion extended over the old boundaries 
 of the Alhambra, wherein he exercises absolute power, 
 amenable only to the authorities at Madrid. And the 
 thanks of the world are due to these vice-regal officials, for 
 they have generally dwelt in the old palace, amid the splen- 
 dor of most delicate architecture, and in that way they 
 came to love the place with its sweet yet sorrowful pre- 
 cincts. Consequently they used all the means at their dis- 
 posal to preserve, repair, and renovate the enfeebled struct- 
 ures, and to maintain them in their pristine elegance. 
 They pointed out to Spain the riches and treasures con- 
 tained in this little nook, and urged upon the laggard gov- 
 ernment the immediate need of protection, — and, happily 
 for us wandering earthlings, their works bore fruit. The 
 government is kind to the Alhambra, and the insatiable 
 ravages of time no longer blacken the marbles and stuccos. 
 Soldiers are quartered there to perform guard duty, but 
 their services are, I fancy, mere tokens of the government's 
 determination to exercise vigilance and watchfulness. In 
 one of the old square towers petty offenders against local 
 laws are imprisoned, and I thought I detected a look of 
 disgust in the sentry's eyes as he walked his beat. Surely 
 there is a wicked incongruity in using these historic keeps, 
 once the citadel of the Moorish guard, as mere strongholds 
 for common drunkards and farthing thieves, and I did not 
 wonder at the wounded pride of the man-at-arms. A few 
 years ago the Alhambra precincts, because of their inde- 
 pendence of Gianada, were the haunt of smugglers, foot- 
 pads, robbers, pickpockets, and every kind of noxious 
 being, who played havoc with many a lattice and tile, and 
 succeeded for a while in defying law and punishment. 
 One of the governors took these pests in hand, and the 
 
43 2 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 lovely courts and gardens were cleansed and purified, so 
 that now only respectable people dwell there. 
 
 Close by the palace walls extends a long and winding 
 street, dotted with stone and brick houses, made cheerful 
 by lovely flowers and shrubbery, affording good homes to 
 the traveller who comes to Granada for a long stay. Se- 
 cluded, to be sure, and yet what an enchanting seclusion is 
 theirs ! Face to face with the Alhambra, almost a part of 
 it, these extra mural habitations are like pleasure domes in 
 Xanadu. Humble people live here ; so do people in bet- 
 ter circumstances in life. Monks congregate in the neigh- 
 boring convent, and sing vespers ; priests in broad, black 
 hats and trailing gowns and open missals silently pace the 
 street ; children shout in glee ; and mothers sit in the door- 
 ways and weave. Within this delicious retreat, all by them- 
 selves, aloof from the great city below, and seemingly as 
 independent of Spanish affairs (bull-fights excepted) as the 
 rude natives of Timbuctoo, live a population both solemn 
 and vivacious. 
 
 To reach this charming spot, one must pass beneath the 
 ponderous masonry known as the Gate of Justice, with its 
 wide-arched entrance and its symbolical hand and keys, 
 then through other smaller arcades, out into the open place 
 called the Aljibes. This is within what might be considered 
 the second line of walls, the first or outer line being the 
 long, straggling wall separating the Alhambra hill from 
 Granada itself. This dainty realm of unwonted splendor, 
 too precious to lie open to every pilgrim and curiosity- 
 hunter, is securely guarded by a third series of barriers, and 
 no one may enter there unless accompanied by a guide. As 
 to the rest of the Alhambra, admission is free and unchal- 
 lenged. 
 
 Aljibes is the Spanish word for cistern, and most appro- 
 priate it is when applied to an open court, where the coldest 
 
ALHAMBRA SIGHTS. 433 
 
 water runs all the year, just as it has for centuries. Fresh from 
 the bounteous Darro come the clear streams, foaming and 
 impetuous, to empty themselves into the great reservoirs 
 which the Moors so thoroughly constructed. How great 
 was the capacity of these subterranean wells matters little 
 at this late day, but they are said to have contained a sup- 
 ply quite sufficient for the needs of the entire Alhambra ; 
 and from what we know of the Moorish love for water, there 
 is no ground for disputing it. 
 
 Water-carriers from the heat-oppressed city below, with 
 donkeys and wide-lipped jars, come here to get the icy bless- 
 ing for the purpose of selling it to thirsty throats ; and from 
 the number of peddlers I concluded that the vocation was 
 fairly remunerative. These easy-going fellows add a con- 
 scious picture to the Alhambra panorama, as they stand 
 forth in sugar-loaf hats, short jackets, frilled shirts, and 
 knee-breeches bespangled with bright buttons, smoking, of 
 course, and urging on the ribbon-decked donkey by a con- 
 stant "Arah! arah ! arah ! " now and then varied by a 
 smart switch of the whip. 
 
 The monarch who abdicated his throne, and afterwards, 
 in the fulness of vanity, celebrated his own obsequies at the 
 altar ofYuste, could not resist the temptation of rearing a 
 palace of his own amid the splendors of the Alhambra. So 
 he set to work with his architects, and half completed the 
 strange pile which forms the prominent sight in the Plaza 
 de los Aljibes. The Renaissance facade of Charles's vain- 
 glorious undertaking presents a pitiable appearance, and 
 well it may. Instead of dominating the work of the Moors 
 by virtue of its own dignity and chasteness, it stands forth 
 as a sad example of overweening ambition and conceit. Its 
 weather-worn interior, circular in shape, reminds one of 
 Roman amphitheatres — mute god-fathers to Spanish bull- 
 rings ; and, strangely enough, the august precincts of this 
 
 19 
 
434 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 very palace have been frequently converted into a ring where 
 bulls have fought and died. Into the warm recesses of this 
 imperial desolation basket-makers and potters have ingrati- 
 ated themselves, constituting its rulers — a claim that nobody 
 contests. In the upper sections, where only trailing vines 
 venture, the owls and bats have things their own way ; and 
 in the moonlight, when they issue forth in quest of earthly 
 pleasures, one might think they were either the avenging 
 spirits of the expelled Saracens, or black, shapeless specks 
 from the caverns of eternal fire, come to vex the earth. 
 
 Down a gentle slope, leaving the Spanish ruin to the 
 right, is the path leading to the gems of the Alhambra, but 
 not the slightest hint is given of what lies beyond. Severe 
 and uneven is the exterior of the ancient halls, but within 
 them is the fairy empire of the world. We come to a 
 wooden door, and pull the bell. It opens, and a guide in 
 uniform bows, and stands aside for us to enter. Into the 
 Court of Myrtles we go. Like so many of the courts, it is 
 rectangular in shape, and surrounded with apartments and 
 galleries, all thickly covered with a fascinating profusion 
 of that cabalistic writing so inseparable from Mahometan 
 handiwork. From the gridironed windows the ladies of 
 the harem used to fillip crumbs to the goldfish in the great 
 marble tank extending up and down the middle of the pave- 
 ment. Around its calm waters is a broad marble walk 
 fringed with myrtles and brightened with flowers, where 
 the fair prisoners were wont to enjoy the soft evening. The 
 quivering basin is more than a hundred feet long, with a 
 corresponding width, and is said to be five feet deep ; and 
 through it runs a ceaseless stream fresh from the mountains. 
 In its cool waters the hot-blooded monarchs used to bathe and 
 splash, like the amphibious bipeds that they were, affording 
 infinite amusement to the veiled inmates of the seraglio 
 who watched them from above. The extreme delicacy of 
 
THE HALL OF THE AMBASSADORS. 43 £ 
 
 construction begins to show itself in this first court, serving 
 as a gentle promise of what is beyond; for the builders, 
 although far from neglecting this portion, did not endow it 
 with that superlative degree of rare and beautiful designing 
 which they gave to the halls farther on. 
 
 At the end of the court, rising like a mountain, is the 
 monstrous tower of Comares, its grim sides punctured with 
 miniature casements, and its great square roof fortified with 
 sturdy parapets, once ready to resist the fury of battle, but 
 harmless now with pigeons and creepers. This was for- 
 merly the state department, if we may so term it, and there 
 foreign princes and ambassadors were given audience. That 
 the power and opulence of the sultan might be duly im- 
 pressed on these distinguished visitors, the builders seemed 
 to redouble their efforts, giving it walls of great thickness 
 and mural decorations of marvellous brilliancy. The size of 
 this apartment, known as the Hall of the Ambassadors, was 
 commensurate with its importance, being about forty feet 
 square and seventy-five feet high. Its walls were resplen- 
 dent with glazed tiles in blue and gold and red, and its lofty 
 azure ceiling fairly scintillated with crescents, crosses, stars, 
 wheels, and triangles burnished with gold. Here the throne 
 was placed, and around its velvet canopy assembled one of 
 the most splendid courts of all history. Seven windows of 
 magnificent proportions, deeply recessed in the thick wall, 
 admitted the sun to awaken to life all this glowing scene, 
 while at night, during the royal festivals, vast lamps, like low- 
 swinging planets, beat down upon this cave of wonders. In 
 the hospitable alcoves made by the stately windows, one 
 beholds that incomparable view which made Boabdil sigh 
 and turn away ; and contemptible, indeed, must be the soul 
 that feels no thrill at its contemplation. On one side expands 
 the luxuriant Vega ; on the other glides the classic Darro, 
 through sunless caverns, hundreds of feet below. 
 
436 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 This strange architecture has so many nooks and niches 
 that the sight of them does not always awaken curiosity, 
 but in the Hall of the Ambassadors were two closet-like 
 openings, set in the arch at the entrance, that attracted my 
 attention. After considerable inquiry I ascertained they 
 were the places where the faithful deposited their slippers 
 before going into the royal presence. This trivial circum- 
 stance was interesting, and showed me another phase of 
 Mahometan customs. 
 
 I venture to say that the first sight of the Lions' Court will 
 prove disappointing to nine out of ten visitors, provided 
 those persons have ever formed any impressions about it. 
 I had pictured a place spacious and imposing : I found a 
 place small and fanciful. Instead of towering arches were 
 bizarre facades, upheld by clusters of brittle columns. And 
 yet the Court of the Lions, together with the adjoining 
 apartments, is considered the master paragon of Saracen 
 architects. It certainly exercises a charm over all who 
 come within its pale, slightly at first, inasmuch as the mind 
 has been stimulated by what has gone before, but gradually 
 becoming stronger as the unrivalled imagery plays before 
 the eyes, until one stands transfixed as if by the spell of 
 magic. The wand of the Arabian necromancer has touched 
 every spot in this home of wonders, conjuring forth from 
 the surfaces of wall and cupola countless and indescribable 
 configurations, which seem to squirm on the glassy back- 
 ground like minature serpents. Everything surrounding 
 the court is of a lace-like texture of light touches, just heavy 
 enough to leave an impression without much indentation, 
 and exhibiting a most extraordinary outburst of oriental 
 caprices. 
 
 It is oblong in shape, measuring one hundred and sixteen 
 feet by sixty, and surrounded with a gallery supported on 
 the capitals of more than a hundred white columns. At 
 
THE LIONS' COURT. 437 
 
 each end a pavilion extends into the court, offering its gen- 
 erous roof and wall as tribute to the insatiable ambitions of 
 Moslem decorators. The pavement in the open court is of 
 dark marble, while that under the colonnades is pure white, 
 with walls of glazed tiles highly colored. In order that 
 a tiresome monotony might not weary eyes ever seeking 
 for variety, the slender columns upholding the roofs and 
 galleries were arranged in beautiful irregularity, singly and 
 in pairs, by threes and by fours, and yet so gracefully placed 
 as to excite the liveliest pleasure. Ornamentation beyond 
 the pen to describe garnishes these delicate columns. Their 
 shapely shafts are lettered with texts from the Koran, and 
 their capitals remind one of the foliage of the groves. Over 
 the pillars is the continuation of the elegant arabesques and 
 the undecipherable characters which make this epoch so 
 bewitching. 
 
 In the centre of the court is the far-famed alabaster foun- 
 tain, resting on the backs of twelve marble lions. Conscious 
 of my want of respect, I could but laugh at this legacy of 
 the caliphs. It struck me so comically that seriousness was 
 out of the question. The fountain is beautiful, but the lions 
 are gross caricatures. Comparative anatomy and the dime 
 museum might make something out of them, but I was 
 unable to classify them. They may have been designed for 
 tigers, bull-dogs, cinnamon bears, or splay-footed dragons, 
 so far as sculptural accuracy goes, but they certainly conform 
 to no family of forest monarchs. The Moslems used the 
 chisel with as little grace as a rustic uses a table-knife, and 
 with much worse results. They were inhibited by holy 
 writ from essaying graven images ; and clandestine sculp- 
 ture, like contraband spirit, is not likely to be of the highest 
 quality. 
 
 The waters of this historic fountain did not play during 
 my sojourn in Granada ; perhaps they never do, notwith- 
 
43 8 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 standing these fringed arcades depend on gurgling channels 
 and singing fountains to keep away the enervating heat of 
 summer. On the rim of the larger basin is quite a pane- 
 gyric on the lions, illuminated by all that rhetorical warmth 
 which the East knew so well. It starts out with the premise 
 that the animals are really lions ; then, with an ingenuousness 
 which in these days is called wit or sarcasm, says that life 
 alone is wanting to make the lions perfect. An exuberant 
 vanity permeates the stanzas, and makes one smile. Here 
 are two specimen verses : " Like the prisoner of love whose 
 face shows annoyance and fear of his rival, so this water is 
 jealous of the stone, and the stone is envious of the water." 
 " To this inexhaustible stream may be compared the hand 
 of our king, which is as liberal and generous as these lions 
 are strong and brave." 
 
 Adjoining the Court of Lions is the Hall of the Abencer- 
 rages, a stately room with a media naranga — half orange — 
 dome beautifully decorated in blue, red, yellow, and white, 
 and creating the most exquisite effect in the whole Alham- 
 bra. Here the walls are covered with Cunif and African 
 characters singing praises to Allah and ascribing glory to 
 the sultan, the frieze is emblazoned with delicate tracery, 
 and the cusp-covered arches sparkle with prisms. In this 
 hall the chiefs hostile to El Chico lost their heads, and 
 their blood still stains the pavement, and, like the spot 
 on Lady Macbeth's hand, it will not out. No wonder the 
 halls of this fantastic realm are full of legends where fair 
 sultanas glide through the moonlit portals, and turbaned 
 monarchs with gleaming cimeters steal noiselessly after : a 
 struggle and a stifled cry, and the deed is done. Headless 
 queens are very common in these Alhambra legends, and if 
 rumor be true, the six and thirty beheaded Abencerrages 
 are wont to assemble in the Lions' Court, and carry on long 
 meetings in pantomime. Even the harmless shadows of 
 
MOORISH HALLS. 439 
 
 peak and column lying across the silver patio assume strange 
 shapes to superstitious eyes, and fluent imagination weaves 
 them into soul-stirring annals. To take away these marvel- 
 lous tales would be cruel indeed ; — so let the ghosts of Sara- 
 cen cavalier and lady flit in and out the splendid apartments ; 
 let them make love again, and enjoy their ethereal existence 
 amid the glory of their ancestors. 
 
 The Hall of the Two Sisters, at the left of the Alabaster 
 fountain, is supposed to have been the private apartment of 
 the Moorish kings, and its sumptuous furnishings and dec- 
 orations would warrant the belief. The floor is remarkable 
 in containing two marble slabs fifteen feet long and seven 
 wide, and as white and spotless as the fleeciest cloud of 
 heaven. The walls and roof again revel in panelling and 
 tile-work, on which are inscribed amatory verses with fre- 
 quent allusions to king and prince, while scattered profusely 
 are long couplets singing of the wonders of Arabian archi- 
 tecture, its lightness, and its undying splendors. 
 
 The Hall of Justice is divided into several alcoves, on 
 whose walls are dim and indistinguishable paintings, repre- 
 senting epochs in the history of the king and the people of 
 Granada. In this legal sanctuary the first rites of Christian 
 religion were performed, the devout Ferdinand and Isabella 
 deigning to use the mosque for that purpose. 
 
 This brings to mind the circumstance that the old mosque, 
 which must have been a creation of surpassing magnifi- 
 cence, has utterly disappeared, having probably been imme- 
 diately demolished by the angry Spaniards. Even its site 
 is in dispute, though students are inclined to place it near 
 the site of the palace of the Emperor Charles. The world 
 can never realize what it lost in this Alhambra sanctuary 
 which time has so completely engulfed. 
 
 The Christian queen, as well as the Mahometan sultana, 
 deserved a hall or boudoir, and she got it. Modern hands 
 
44-0 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 painted its walls and decorated its vaulted roof, but the 
 work, however, is pleasing, and affords an agreeable relief 
 from the highly wrought conceits of the Moor. Windows 
 look out into a lovely garden where terraces and fountains 
 continue to invite the presence of the never-to-come queen, 
 and beyond, over the house-tops, is spread out that lustrous 
 landscape of hill and plain. 
 
 The Alhambra was munificently furnished with chambers 
 and salons and ante-rooms, whose former uses are not at all 
 certain, but the intricate plan comprised everything known 
 to comfort ; and a walk through the corridors of this laby- 
 rinth shows how extravagant were the Moslem notions about 
 palace building. The bath-rooms beneath the pavement 
 present a study in oriental luxury, and give one almost 
 a sensuous delight. Cut in solid marble blocks are these 
 baths, in which so many generations of pleasure votaries 
 have whiled away years of idleness ; and yet resistance to 
 such temptations was made impossible by fascinations of 
 every kind. From upper balconies musicians sent down 
 sweet music to beguile the bathers, cascades tripped over 
 artificial courses in soothing rhythm, and through holes 
 cut in the form of crescents and stars light was admitted, so 
 that the midday sun came into the subterranean passages 
 like so many constellations. 
 
 Visitors are shown the famous mint whose dies brought 
 forth heaps of glittering coins to excite the cupidity of the 
 Castilian hosts ; but to-day no vestige of how they were 
 made can be seen. The conquerors swept away everything 
 within reach, and it mattered not whether it was this 
 treasure-house or the mosque. When we stop to think 
 how ruthless and wide-spread was the devastation, that 
 neither the beautiful inlaid doors nor the gleaming gold on 
 the columns was suffered to remain untouched, how the 
 graceful cypresses as well as the parterres of flowers fell 
 
GYPSIES. 44I 
 
 prey to this Christian barbarism, then we begin to realize 
 how changed the Alhambra is from that resplendent epoch 
 when this little nook was the residence of the Moorish 
 kings. And now, after so much has been done to ruin 
 these marvels, a feeling of sincere repentance has at last 
 taken hold of the descendants of the spoilers, and the mar- 
 ble patios and gilded domes are forever safe from vandal 
 insults. 
 
 The French have a catalogue of crimes to answer for 
 before the world's tribunal. Once they occupied the Al- 
 hambra, and revelled among its intoxicating fancies; and 
 yet, when they came to evacuate it, neither dictates of honor 
 nor a sense of the beautiful deterred them from committing 
 sacrilege, even to the extent of blowing up one of the great 
 gates. In all probability there remains but one danger to 
 the Alhambra. Religious fanaticism has done its worst ; 
 so have wars and insurrections : now its only enemy is the 
 earthquake. These disturbances are not infrequent along 
 the Sierras ; they come without warning, sparing neither 
 gypsy cave nor Saracen palace. 
 
 Over across the Darro is Sacro Monte, once the burying- 
 ground of the Moors, but now the domain of the much- 
 sung-about gypsies. Every tourist visits this hill-side em- 
 pire, approaching it full of curiosity and manifold anticipa- 
 tions, picturing in his mind scenes of romance and chivalry 
 and love, of beauty and costumes and merry-making ; and 
 the chances are ten to one against seeing a single exhibition 
 of these charming characteristics. I am not insensible to 
 romance and things picturesque, although they have never 
 been subjected to a refining process ; even dwellers in 
 huts and wigwams may present something attractive, — but 
 I must declare the Granada gypsies to be a dirty and unin- 
 teresting community, whose persons and habits well become 
 the nasty caves which shelter them. 
 19* 
 
442 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 These holes are not spacious. They generally contain 
 two rooms, but a family of a dozen or so eat and sleep there 
 as contentedly as a litter of pups ; and in plain sight of all 
 this, some enthusiastic travellers claim to be enchanted at 
 the primitive customs of the swarthy denizens, and pay 
 them repeated visits. For my part, this maudlin affection 
 is incomprehensible. In front of the caves cactus plants 
 thrive in riotous profusion, serving both as front doors and 
 miniature groves, beneath whose shade the first families of 
 the empire may enjoy the delights of a fete champetre. 
 
 During my rambles through the gypsy quarter I had the 
 pleasure of being presented to the king, who impressed me 
 as a man of observation and of dignified bearing. He spoke 
 Spanish very fluently, — so fluently, in fact, that when he 
 asked me to buy his photograph, I had no difficulty in 
 understanding him. Noticing the scarcity of men, the 
 monarch told me that they were absent in the city and 
 the adjacent provinces, engaged in work of divers kinds. 
 These gypsy men are ubiquitous in Spain. They ply all 
 sorts of vocations — horse-selling, and horse-stealing, too. 
 They are artisans, peddlers, tinkers, musicians, blacksmiths, 
 and Jacks-of-all-trades, and they grow fat where others 
 starve. In the abstract, the gypsy is certainly interesting, 
 but in the concrete not so much can be said of him ; and yet 
 every soul of this weird race contributes its mite to one of 
 the most remarkable histories ever known. So these Sacro 
 Monte groundlings, repulsive and unclean, are as much a 
 chapter in the world's genealogy as the Gauls and Saxons, 
 and no people can trace its history further into the darkness 
 than these cave-dwelling gypsies. 
 
 The children playing round the huts boasted an economy 
 of dress which is charming to sentimental eyes; so are the 
 pigs and dogs. The women, when they once begin to 
 grow old, are powerless to resist the inevitable, and quickly 
 
GENERALIFE. 443 
 
 become wrinkled and gray, then toothless, and at last hid- 
 eously crone-ish. When they reach this state, fortune-telling 
 is their chosen business, and, more repulsive than the witches 
 of Macbeth, they stretch forth shrivelled arms to receive the 
 silver. 
 
 Near my hotel, only a few paces distant, are the beautiful 
 gardens of the Alhambra, where flowers of brilliant colors 
 and hedges of fragrant myrtles are as unchanged and as en- 
 chanting as in the evenings of the caliphate, while mingled 
 with them are grottos, caves, and cascades, to afford grateful 
 rest from the midsummer heat. Visitors are freely admitted 
 to these arbors of peace and loveliness, which, from their 
 appearance of being suspended from the hill-side, are called 
 the Hanging Gardens. 
 
 In another direction, over carpets of velvet green, is that 
 delightful spot known as the Generalife, or Garden of the 
 Architect. Situated on a hill overlooking the russet battle- 
 ments of the fortress is this open-air palace, where once 
 reigned supreme the most sensuous delights imaginable. 
 This sylvan retreat has never passed from the possession of 
 its princely owners, who, with their parterres, bowers, and 
 water-courses, have preserved the rich fancies of the golden 
 age. 
 
 Nowhere has ingenuity devised such a variety of hydrau- 
 lic displays as in these gardens. Conduits six miles in 
 length coax the cold sources of the Darro for water to sup- 
 ply the pipes of the Generalife. An infinite amount of work 
 was put into the fountains and canals. Amid thick bowers 
 minute jets spurt, filling the air with iridescent sprays, rain- 
 bows, and gay hues, and covering the bystander with a film 
 of refreshing coolness. Corpulent cypresses lean against the 
 vine-draped walls, and the servants tell you they are nearly 
 a thousand years old. Legends assign many a historic annal 
 to them ; and beneath the shade of one aged trunk, they 
 
444 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 say, a frail sultana was wooed by a bold Paynim knight. 
 However truthful the legend, this elysium might well invite 
 to its lovely precincts all the brave and the fair of romance 
 and song. 
 
 The Generalife is the ideal dream-spot of Spain. Its ex- 
 terior of glaring white peeps out from behind green screens, 
 showing towers and windowless arcades deep set in massive 
 niches, where not even the fierce solstice dares to penetrate. 
 The construction and design of this villa make summer 
 discomforts impossible, and for superb enjoyment of the 
 passing hour I should prefer it to the glowing angles of the 
 Alhambra. Very likely the Moors took the same favorable 
 view of its charms, and yielded to the intoxicating influence 
 of balmy air and gushing waters, content to let to-morrow 
 take care of itself, and flattered by the knowledge that no 
 prince of Araby, however potent, ever lived in a paradise 
 so happy as this. Voluptuous and careless were the an- 
 cient dwellers in the Generalife ; and now, when nearly a 
 thousand years have gone, and man has become metamor- 
 phosed by science, these graceful terraces and arbors remain 
 unchanged, and are still lurking-places of the fairies and 
 the sirens. 
 
 If one had never explored the lanes and alleys of old 
 Moorish-Spanish cities, then Granada, as viewed from the 
 Alhambra hill, might rouse one to action, for the great col- 
 lection of faded roofs and aspiring steeples promises rich 
 returns in the way of sight-seeing and experience. I became 
 so attached to the quiet and comfort of the Alhambra, that 
 urban excursions gave me little interest. And yet I could 
 not think of leaving Granada without some further acquaint- 
 ance, however slight it might be. 
 
 The streets are typically Moorish, being, like those of 
 Tangiers and Tetuan, full of angles and leanness, but the 
 houses are higher and more substantial, evincing a far bet- 
 
OLD TOWN. 445 
 
 ter appreciation of domestic needs than those African cities 
 ever dreamed of. And, moreover, the custom of painting 
 the exteriors was commonly followed, so that even now, 
 after a period of several centuries, many of these picture- 
 fronts remain to tell the forgotten story. The designs have 
 faded somewhat, and their meaning is rather uncertain to 
 us foreigners ; and yet, strangely enough, our ignorance is 
 not more profound than that of the populace infesting them. 
 I soon gave up questioning the native, preferring to trust 
 to my own imagination to interpret indistinct frescos. In 
 many places the sidewalks are made of colored pebbles, 
 ingeniously laid so as to show quaint designs, which run 
 into each other and produce a mild resemblance to the ka- 
 leidoscope. This conceit may be charged to the fantastic 
 infidel, whose love of the beautiful found expression even in 
 sidewalks. 
 
 The alameda is a favorite sauntering-place, and rejoices 
 in the appropriate name of the Salon. And well named it 
 is ; for it is the open-air reception-room of Granada, where 
 all classes meet to promenade and gossip. Shade-trees line 
 its sides, and at each end a massive marble fountain, upheld 
 by mythological deities, furnishes lively music for the pleas- 
 ure-seekers, while the terraces between this park and the 
 half-fabled Genii form a succession of tasteful flower-beds. 
 
 Public edifices and open squares, with babbling fountains, 
 are more common in Granada than in any city I recall ; and 
 it should be so, in order to relieve the dangerous overcrowd- 
 ing of ugly and weather-stained houses. It was very pleas- 
 ant to escape from the close and suspicious streets into sun- 
 bathed spots, noisy with birds and sweet with roses, and to 
 rest on the stone benches and view the ceaseless concourse 
 of human pictures as they pass b}'. Models and suggestions 
 rich and complete enough to supply the ateliers of Paris can 
 be found in these oases. They assume postures and extrav- 
 
446 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 agant gestures, and yet they are graceful in their tatters 
 and even regal in their manners. 
 
 The Gothic cathedral, with priceless pillars of jasper and 
 rare marble, is sacred to the dust of their Catholic majesties, 
 which rests in a beautiful chapel at one side of the Great 
 Altar. Its walls are hung with shields and medallions, and 
 statuary stands around telling of epochs in these royal ca- 
 reers. The bodies lie in a crypt beneath imposing monu- 
 ments, bearing recumbent figures of the king and queen ; 
 and for a small consideration you may penetrate the gloom 
 and stand beside the leaden chests. I ventured into the 
 tomb, accompanied by a verger with a flickering candle, 
 which seemed reluctant to go on such an errand, and had 
 to be carefully nursed during our dismal visit. The tomb 
 is small, being scarcely higher than one's head, and laid on 
 top of one another are the cumbrous lead coffins. They are 
 misshapen and indented, and securely bound with iron 
 hoops as if grave-robbers lurked thereabouts, and are 
 marked with the royal initials. The unfortunate mother 
 of Charles also reposes in this imperial crypt, and near her 
 rests Philip, safe at last from the extraordinary hallucinations 
 of his crazy spouse. I placed my hand on the dull lead, 
 and was about to indulge in serious reflections on' the mys- 
 teries of foreordination, when my sable-garbed torch-bearer, 
 thinking to divine my thoughts, grinned in most approved 
 sepulchral form, and, with a voice to match, exclaimed, 
 " The Catholic monarchs are surely dead ! " This authori- 
 tative expression did its work ; and, turning away, I climbed 
 the slippery steps up into the sun-lanced church, and roamed 
 the immense aisles, wonder-struck at the surroundings. On 
 some columns were printed rules of action exceedingly 
 funny, and yet they served a good purpose when beggars 
 assailed me. One forbade conversation with women with- 
 in the cathedral ; another commanded silence during mass ; 
 
THE CARTUJA.- 447 
 
 and a third warned heretics and infidels of the wrath 
 of Jehovah. I conned them with great care ; but, so far as 
 strict observance is concerned, I fancied they were wellnigh 
 obsolete. It must have been a sublime conceit on the part 
 of a wifeless bishop, when, by means of rules and regula- 
 tions, he commanded women to be silent. 
 
 A mile or more to the west of the city is the deserted 
 monastery of Cartuja, — deserted in the sense that the monks 
 no longer dwell there ; but services are still performed, and 
 the establishment is well cared for. The exterior of the 
 building is commonplace and unattractive, the locality 
 wears an air of desolation and despair, and one might 
 pass by, unconscious of the gems contained within these 
 sombre walls. A remarkably stupid guide conducted me 
 through the cloisters and aisles of monastery and church, 
 pointing out this object and that, and rattling oft' history 
 and legend most volubly ; but the moment his attention 
 was directed to anything not in his stereotyped repertory 
 he became dumb as an oyster, and looked like a con- 
 firmed idiot. In the cloisters are life-sized frescos, repre- 
 senting the deeds of the fathers, their victories amid flames 
 and wild beasts, and their splendid sufferings. One paint- 
 ing showed how the Saxons burned the missionaries, and 
 my guide had all its details at his tongue's end. He pointed 
 out the actors, calling them by name. He knew the perse- 
 cutors, and scoffed at them, styling the ardent avengers 
 cowards and assassins. He pointed with great satisfaction 
 to the blonde hair and beard which the artist had given 
 the Britains, and kept uttering the word rubio, which, 
 being interpreted, means red. To this day the rheumatic 
 old guide implicitly believes that every Englishman is a 
 blonde. Beyond being extravagant, these mural paintings 
 are uninteresting to travellers, however precious they may 
 be to Spaniards. But when I stood before the battle piece 
 
448 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 of St. Quentin and remarked the havoc in the French ranks, 
 the oyster-like man got infused with enthusiasm, and, like 
 Goldsmith's veteran, he shouldered his crutch and showed 
 how his countrymen did it. 
 
 One masterpiece represented a decaying corpse rising from 
 the grave — a sickening spectacle, but made supremely ridic- 
 ulous by the figure of a looker-on wearing eye-glasses. It 
 seemed to me that it might be a debatable question which 
 of the two was the more horrified. 
 
 The sacristy, with glossy marbles and nicely moulded 
 columns, shows how rich and influential this Cartuja used 
 to be before the monks were expelled ; and, although now 
 in disuse, the vestments and religious paraphernalia are 
 still kept in all their ancient splendor, and the altar, su- 
 perbly rich, receives the daily care of servants. Much of 
 the delicate work seen here is from the chisel of that versa- 
 tile genius, Alonzo Cano, who, like Angelo, was sculptor 
 and architect as well as painter. This extraordinary man, 
 a native of Granada, lavished his skill on the decorations of 
 sacristy and altar, until he could do no more. Then he set 
 about producing the most exquisite medallions cut in agate, 
 giving them a truthfulness that a brush might envy. These 
 are placed in the walls, where they succeed in masquerad- 
 ing as choice paintings. To commemorate the founder of 
 the Carthusian order, Cano produced a miniature figure of 
 the saint, which is the admiration of all who behold it. A 
 more life-like effigy was never made. It is small, and yet 
 remarkably expressive. It w r ould stand the severest criti- 
 cism, for not a vein nor a hair has been omitted : the little 
 hands are studies in themselves, and the beard just starting 
 from the freshly shaven chin is true to nature. 
 
 On the blank walls of the deserted refectory Cano 
 painted a huge cross — a sort of 77ieniento mori for the feed- 
 ing brothers to gaze at ; and so perfect was his picture, that 
 
VELA TOWER. 449 
 
 the phantom arms have been scratched and mutilated by 
 birds vainly trying to gain a resting-place on them. Through 
 the open casements this artistic creation allures songsters 
 by the score. Even while I stood before it birds flew 
 round the inviting arms, undecided whether to perch there 
 or not. 
 
 On my way through the town I came upon the bull-ring, 
 which had just been dedicated with glorious carnage, and 
 even then the memory of it was so fresh that small boys 
 in the streets talked of nothing else. It matters very little 
 what commotions and reforms may visit Spain, insurrec- 
 tions will call a truce while the ancient sport goes on, and 
 reforms must pass by the Plaza de Toros as something too 
 sacred and honored to be interfered with. Even there, 
 under the shadows of the Alhambra, the dawn of the twen- 
 tieth century will behold a coliseum to which the cruel 
 games shall attract new generations. 
 
 The Alhambra has so many charming spots that each 
 person must choose his favorite. The old Vela tower, 
 with its wealth of history, seemed most fascinating, and I 
 frequently went there. Standing like a sentinel, it over- 
 looks the city and the rich plains, and embraces one of the 
 rarest horizons in the world. Surely its mute stones ought 
 to speak forth their praise. In this tower is the alarm bell 
 that once called the sleeping hosts to arms. Now to better 
 uses has it come, for its strokes measure oft' time to the 
 farmers of the Vega: by its command they open the irri- 
 gating sluices, and at another command they close them. 
 At sunset the scene from this place is truly ravishing : then 
 the colors thrown upon the landscape make a living picture 
 of indescribable splendor. Across the russet tiles and un- 
 even roofs of the great city the vision of the Vega unfolds. 
 Brilliant is that verdant garden in the wake of the depart- 
 ing sun. The yellow fields gleam like gold, the groves 
 
45° AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 break the uninterrupted monotony of the plain, and the 
 silver Genii, the generous patron of the Vega, curves 
 through, lavishing its waters on every side. Villages, glis- 
 tening like white wings on the sea, give to this master 
 sketch a touch of life and action. Beyond, in shadowy 
 ridges, rise the Mountains of the Sun, faintly painted by the 
 evening light, and away to the north the ermine-clad Sierras 
 stand against the bluest of skies, their heads crowned with 
 burnished sunshine and their majestic shoulders draped in 
 royal purple. The reflection of the sun works fantastically 
 with these Granadian summits, and creates an unceasing 
 variety of exquisite images. From the first slanting rays of 
 the afternoon till the rising of the evening star the sun 
 magician is never at rest : he plies his wondrous art with 
 fascinating versatility, and transforms the Vega and its 
 rugged frame into scenes too splendid for fairy-land and too 
 delicate for dreams. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 OVER THE PYRENEES TO SOUTHAMPTON. 
 
 TO vary the monotony of railway travelling, and to see 
 more of the country and its people, I secured a ticket 
 in the diligence running between Granada and Baylen, and 
 resigned myself to the vicissitudes of an overland journey. 
 At five o'clock in the morning I shook my host of the 
 " Washington Irving" by the hand, and, clambering up into 
 the nest behind the driver, disposed of myself for the day. 
 The mules seemed impatient to begin their work, but the 
 driver and the porters, true to inherited instincts, smoked 
 and gossipped with an exasperating indifference, defying 
 the time-table, and calling down upon their frowsy heads the 
 extravagant imprecations of two Englishmen who chanced 
 to be among the passengers. All day long these men growl- 
 ed and grumbled, until I heartily prayed for a robber am- 
 bush, or some other alleviating process. 
 
 The elms of the Alhambra park were never more grace- 
 ful, the fountains and cascades more lively, nor the songsters 
 more merry, than at the moment of our departure. Every- 
 thing conspired to arrest our going, and for my part I felt 
 an inexpressible reluctance to leave that paradise of nature 
 and art. There is only one Granada, and to see it for the 
 last time in the full glory of a spring morning makes one 
 quiet and sad. Down the shady avenue, beneath the frown- 
 ing gateway, out into the stony streets we went, and the 
 Alhambra hill with its yellow walls disappeared from view. 
 Under the assiduous attention of a cracking lash the team 
 
45 2 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 dashed over the pavements of old Granada, creating a dis- 
 turbance worthy a heavy battery going into action, and 
 causing many a matutinal balcony scene, effective if not 
 entirely dramatic. 
 
 Over the Vega hung a dense mist, which the coming sun 
 was driving away in great clouds, disclosing here and there 
 patches of green, and bringing out the uncertain forms of 
 farm-buildings and wayside churches ; then instantaneously 
 the scene changed, and the landscape again became ob- 
 scured and dark. This play of lights and shadows lasted 
 an hour or more as we rolled along the highway ; then the 
 day, conscious of its loveliness, chased away the mists and 
 dews, and stood out in regal beauty. The air was lightly 
 touched with frost, and the earth had been recently moist- 
 ened by showers : so the dry and dusty inconveniences of 
 travel gave us no concern. 
 
 The aspect of the country surprised me by its apparent 
 niggardliness of fertility, and the farther we went the more 
 sterile and barren became the soil. I had looked for an 
 expansion of the rich Vega, not taking into account that the 
 road to Jaen runs almost due north from Granada, and that 
 every mile bore us nearer to one of the most rocky prov- 
 inces of Spain. The transition from the soft cultivation 
 of Granada is rapidly made, the gardens are more widely 
 separated, the husbandmen are less numerous, and the 
 glow gives place to a yellow and faded look. The soil is 
 dry and the region desolate. Men and cattle find suste- 
 nance, but the abundant harvests of the plain cannot be 
 coaxed to venture into the craggy confines of Jaen. The 
 mountains are bare, and are burned and wrinkled like gypsy 
 crones. The highland roads are well kept, and the threat- 
 ening gorges need not frighten one. The Spanish govern- 
 ment has known this route for many centuries, and its 
 importance allows of no neglect. Nowhere in Europe do 
 
JAEN. 453 
 
 I recall a road more carefully maintained than this ; and 
 notwithstanding these days of steam, the famous old camino 
 real is not forgotten by the king's engineers. 
 
 Jaen used to be considered the key to Andalusia, and has 
 long been a strategic point ; but under the radical changes 
 in military manoeuvres and communications the rock-bound 
 old province has lost its importance. Its people are igno- 
 rant of all this, however, and still believe that they guard the 
 gate to Andalusia. In the good old days of hand-to-hand 
 conflict, the spurs and defiles of the Morenas, like so many 
 fortresses, teemed with armed men, ready at any moment 
 to stand battle or to make forays ; but they are deserted now 
 save by shepherds and their flocks. Behind these rocky 
 walls Isabella established the Castilian court, and thither 
 went ambassadors to treat for peace. Kings found a refuge 
 among the fastnesses of Jaen, and in epochs more recent 
 bandits and robbers have made these haunts friendly to their 
 calling. The ragged mountains no longer shield king or 
 outlaw: only the humdrum, every-day existence circles 
 about them. Peasants and rude husbandmen dwell in the 
 shadows, but even they thin out as the years roll by. 
 Every census counts a smaller number, and it would not 
 be surprising if, in the years to come, Jaen with its historic 
 rocks might become as desolate as some isle of the sea. 
 Even now its hardy inhabitants are beginning to compare 
 their lot with those in better climes, and they manifest a 
 restlessness that means depopulation. 
 
 The city of Jaen is perched upon the slopes of a moun- 
 tain, where, like an eagle, its eyes may see a most expansive 
 horizon of undulating plains, shut in by black-ribbed moun- 
 tains and distant ranges, snow-tipped and ambitious. A 
 venerable bridge, with arches strong enough to uphold a 
 coliseum, crosses the river just at the base of the last 
 ascent. Then the streets become ludicrously and painfully 
 
454 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 paved, while the rough stone houses thrust in by the road 
 show some evidence of life. Our mules knew full well that 
 Jaen meant for them a respite from toil, and the exertions 
 they made up the steep streets were highly commendable. 
 They pulled at tugs and reins, and their heavy hoofs beat 
 the stones in a most hilarious tune. Fortunately, nothing 
 gave way, and after the regulation number of twists and 
 jerks the stubborn stage-coach crashed into the public 
 square, and came to a full stop. 
 
 The driver having vouchsafed the information that we 
 could dwell in Jaen for a full hour, I set about exploring 
 the quaint collection of mediaeval curiosities. There is 
 nothing new in Jaen — not a chimney or a shawl that does 
 not claim an antiquity antedating by far the reign of the 
 Bourbons — and the inhabitants, in faded gowns and turbans, 
 have about them the stamp of primeval origin. They wear 
 a facial expression that must have been put there during 
 the middle ages. A fierce stare that commands a respon- 
 sive shiver is very common, and so is the deep-set scowl 
 and theatrical strut. Very probably strangers passing 
 through are taken for enemies, and regarded accordingly ; 
 but they ought to dismiss such unjust sentiments after a 
 century or two, and offer wandering strangers at least fifty 
 per cent, less of austerity and moroseness. However, these 
 homely traits may be indigenous only to such out-of-the- 
 way places as Jaen, and instead of signifying displeasure 
 and envy, they may be intended as so many fifteenth century 
 compliments. If the swarthy Moorish denizens really meant 
 harm, all they needed to do was to whip out their ugly na- 
 vajas and cut intruders into piecemeal, without so much as 
 an ora fro nobis. I saw peasants lounging in the alameda 
 with guns by their sides ; and as for knives, the custom of 
 carrying them appeared to be very common. The blood 
 of Jaen, scarcely contaminated with modern corpuscles, 
 
A SAINTS JOURNEY. 455 
 
 courses in the same hot and sluggish way it did when 
 Saracen spears were flung against the town. Man has 
 changed but little, and the customs of five hundred years 
 ago have been transmitted like so many heirlooms. 
 
 The cathedral dominates everything, and is, no doubt, 
 one of earth's wonders to the people. It certainly is a pre- 
 tentious one, and possesses extravagances enough to satisfy 
 Seville. Legends lurk in every chapel and stall. Even the 
 devil himself played an important part in its history, by once 
 carrying Eufrasio, the patron saint of Jaen, to Rome. The 
 incorrigible Satan is said to have adopted the popular 
 method of pickback locomotion, and performed the some- 
 what extended journey in good time. On the theory that 
 history repeats itself, this somewhat unusual performance 
 may be attempted again ; and if it should be, the iron-clad 
 exclusiveness of town and people will be broken up beyond 
 the power of Spanish bigotry to revive it. 
 
 Somewhere in the treasure-house of the cathedral is the 
 famous Santa Rostro, with which, according to tradition, 
 the woman wiped the face of the Saviour on Calvary. The 
 relic is not on daily exhibition, being only exposed on great 
 festival days, but the people make up for this infrequent 
 display by wearing round their necks proxy expedients, 
 which are thought to possess all the virtues and powers of 
 the original. The shops of Jaen partake of two civiliza- 
 tions, — the Moorish and the Spanish. They are small and 
 dark, and their contents coarse and unattractive. The houses 
 belong to an ancient order of things, and their owners still 
 peer into the night in hopes of seeing the solitary horseman 
 and his faithful squire. Jaen is rather sad, and its primi- 
 tiveness is too intimately connected with squalor and neglect 
 to captivate the traveller ; but its history, and above all its 
 remarkable, situation, give it an identity among the cities 
 of Spain, and entitle it to the respect of strangers. 
 
45^ AALESUND TO TETUAAT. 
 
 Around the diligence, in small amphitheatrical curves, 
 had gathered the usual crowd of do-nothings and beggars, 
 who watched every motion, now and then offering criticism 
 in a hoarse tone that sounded as suspicious as it did brutal, 
 but attempting no familiarity beyond the laying on of hands 
 and the insolent leering into our faces. The Paul Prys kept 
 at a respectful distance and took a mental photograph of 
 everything, while the mendicants, with true professional 
 energy, edged in upon our paid-for sanctity, and beseeched 
 us for the love of God to relive their pressing necessities. It 
 was a case where an indulgence in sweet charity would 
 have only increased the supplications beyond control ; 
 therefore we withheld our coppers until the relay of brown 
 mules jumped forward, when out went handfuls into the 
 crowd, and a helter-skelter panic was the result. As we 
 rattled round a sharp corner I saw our Jaen acquaintances 
 on hands and knees, bareheaded and capeless, struggling 
 like so many animals, and giving vent to loud vociferations, 
 which for aught I know may have been followed up with 
 duels and murders. 
 
 Down the mountain-sides in roundabout windings went 
 the highway, the mules taking no heed of steep places, but 
 plunging onward at a very alarming gait, which threatened 
 to bring disaster at any moment ; but the beasts displayed 
 an unlooked for steadiness, and inspired complete confidence 
 in their good judgment. No sooner had the road become 
 level than these sagacious mules so relaxed their speed as 
 to justify the Andalusian oaths of the driver. Imprecations 
 availed nothing, and the lash fell far short of the leaders. 
 When this exasperating moderation bade fair to become 
 chronic, the boy riding one of the wheel animals slid off his 
 seat, and, running along the road, filled his hat with stones, 
 which he skilfully laid at the driver's feet, and then resumed 
 his saddle. This ammunition thenceforth played an impor- 
 
GUARD I A CIVILE. 457 
 
 tant part in our journey, and the way the stones carromed 
 over the laggards' backs was a caution to the whole mule 
 tribe. In especially flagrant cases the driver dropped the 
 reins, and, rising in his box, let fly volley after volley of 
 oaths and stones until he grew red in the face. As I sat 
 directly behind him, I felt a deep interest in all that he did, 
 and once or twice, at his urgent invitation, I essayed my 
 skill at stoning the mules. It often happened that an un- 
 lucky aim took the postilion in his back, but experience 
 had hardened him also, for he only squirmed a little and 
 shook his fist at the marksman. 
 
 We now reached a long plain, so dry that clouds of dust 
 were easily excited as we rolled on, and the journey soon 
 lost the rugged and effective scenery that had made it so 
 charming. There were no more peaks and gorges to arouse 
 the mind : everything had succumbed to the common-place, 
 leaving not so much as a ruined castle to stimulate the 
 fancy. At regular intervals we came across the guardia 
 civile, whose trim appearance coincided with all that is 
 modern in soldiery, and we breathed freely in full con- 
 sciousness that the strong arm of law and protection was 
 within easy call. To these men may be attributed in no 
 small degree the safety of travellers and the good order of 
 the country. Their duty consists in guarding the public 
 highways, over which they make daily patrols, and in keep- 
 ing a strict watch over the doings of the inhabitants. That 
 they may be more effective in case of need, custom has or- 
 dained that they shall never go singly, but in pairs — una- 
 fiareja, as it is called. In this way one sees them in 
 every part of Spain, and a handsomer or more soldierly 
 class does not exist in the world. Their uniform is model- 
 led after that of the French gen d'armerie, chapeau and all. 
 They carry carbines and short swords, and invariably wear 
 white gloves, whether in the suburbs^ of Madrid or in the 
 
 20 
 
45§ AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 dark passes of the Sierra Morenas. In order that masculine 
 beauty may be ever present, a well cared for moustache is 
 prescribed, which adds not only to their good looks, but 
 also reassures the timid. Under the constant attentions of 
 this corps of men, Spain has been largely ridded of those 
 bandits and pests that once overran it. Order has been 
 educed, and, so far as I know, travelling is no longer in- 
 volved in insecurity and personal danger. Their powers 
 are large and their processes summary, being a modified 
 form of drum-head justice, so that the unlucky offender, 
 once in their clutches, stands no possible chance of escaping 
 a punishment commensurate with his crime. 
 
 During the journey from Granada to Baylen we met sev- 
 eral score of these monarchs of law and order, each one so 
 nearly like another that I had my doubts whether their own 
 wives could tell them apart. This uncertainty about do- 
 mestic property may not be a recommendation, but it goes 
 to show that the civil guard is selected with wonderful care, 
 and that only men of about the same age, stature, and gen- 
 eral appearance can hope to be admitted into this distin- 
 guished branch of the Spanish army. 
 
 Away in the distance were the houses of Baylen, toward 
 which the mules made a rattling pace, enveloping us in a 
 winding sheet of fine dust, and causing the passing peasants 
 to stare with wonder. Perhaps our break-neck speed sug- 
 gested to the oldest inhabitant the capitulation of the French, 
 for the diligence certainly possessed the power of raising a 
 war-like din whenever the six mules evinced the proper 
 disposition. Over a handsome iron bridge spanning the 
 lazy Guadalquivir, then through the suburbs of the town to 
 the railway station, and the day's journey was ended. The 
 hardy postilion doffed his cap and received the customary 
 fees, likewise the driver and guard ; then this picturesque 
 trio vanished and was seen no more. 
 
DOS DE MAYO. 459 
 
 Baylen, lying at the foot of the Morenas, used to be the 
 key to Castile, but the key has long since become rusty and 
 the lock broken. The day's ride had been full of pleasure 
 and experience, without a solitary moment of dulness, but 
 I must confess the sight of the train, with a comfortable 
 coupe, was welcome ; and once embarked, the further inci- 
 dents of the journey troubled me not at all. 
 
 The next morning I was again in Madrid, prepared to 
 look about me. During my stay there I saw the Spanish 
 Fourth of July, — that is, the second day of May, or Dos de 
 Mayo, as they call it. This is a national holiday, both to 
 celebrate the deliverance from the French, and to com- 
 memorate the memory of the brave Spaniards who fell 
 fighting in defence of the capital. How widely this festival 
 is observed I know not, but very likely it reaches its fulness 
 in Madrid, notwithstanding it was the day that gave birth 
 to the war of Spanish independence. 
 
 While the church was not slighted, yet, unlike all the 
 national processions I have seen, the black gowns seemed to 
 have very little to do with the demonstration, which from the 
 requirements of the hour devolved more on the garrison and 
 civic authorities. Early in the morning booming cannon 
 announced the fete, then martial music played through the 
 streets, while the devoutly inclined collected at the glaring 
 altar in the Prado, or in the churches of the town, and said 
 prayers for the heroic dead. 
 
 The day was most delightful, and as it fell on Sunday the 
 population was largely augmented, so that by the time the 
 pageant came through the Puerta del Sol the addition of 
 another person would have surely overcrowded it. It 
 reminded me of the wedding of the December.before, save 
 that the enthusiam of the people was more strongly mani- 
 fested, and there was a vivacity and gaiety which Alphonso's 
 nuptials did not call forth. 
 
460 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 The gouty state coaches, with their prancing steeds, were 
 no part of this procession — those are kept for uses more 
 aristocratic — but in their stead were brilliant cavalcades and 
 glittering troops. The most noticeable feature was the bat- 
 talions of young boys from the city colleges and charitable 
 institutions. They wore a uniform, and marched with a 
 precision worthy a regiment of the line. Many of these 
 youths were orphans, descendants undoubtedly of the vic- 
 tims of Soult's brutality, and the occasion was a patriotic 
 lesson to them. Veterans, maimed and faltering, with 
 breasts bright with medals, the heroes of many battles ; 
 officers in resplendent uniforms, civic officials, and public 
 servants, — marched in military unison, followed by the 
 steady platoons of the garrison, to the beautiful Prado, 
 where orators selected for the duty spoke words of elo- 
 quence to the assemblage. I tried to get within hearing of 
 the speakers, but failed : the crowd was dense, and as 
 immovable as the gate of the Alcala. Later in the day I 
 drove through the Prado, and the crowd was but slightly 
 diminished : the people lingered near the wreath-strewn 
 monument, and in their fervid imaginations pictured the 
 valor and the massacre of the May morning so many years 
 ago. 
 
 Strangely enough, the French barbarities have long since 
 been forgiven, and while the Spaniard still reserves to him- 
 self a superiority over every other nationality, he harbors 
 no revenge against the French. I should have said that 
 a spirit of hatred rankled in his breast, and that the re- 
 currence of Dos de Mayo excited his sluggish soul into 
 intensest heat : but it is not so. The Spaniards laughed at 
 my idea, and declared that the day was too hallowed for 
 such feelings. They revere the sorrowful memorial day 
 just as we Americans revere ours, and in common homage 
 to the dead drown every brutal passion. The day showed 
 
THE ESCURIAL. 46 1 
 
 a new phase of Spanish character, which, for sincerity, sim- 
 plicity, and tenderness, made the most beautiful Spanish 
 vista in my wanderings. 
 
 The eighth wonder of the world still attracts succeeding 
 generations of visitors, and sends them away full of tingling 
 blood. In all my experiences, through pest-ridden prisons, 
 among tombs, in black catacombs, along the greasy tunnels 
 of steamer shafts, beneath avalanches of water, and over 
 fathomless crevasses, the journey to the Escurial made me 
 forget them all. Sad, dismal, and depressing are the pre- 
 cincts of Philip's masterwork. It is the autobiography of 
 the old tyrant done in sombre granite and marble. As he 
 was taciturn, pitiless, and ugly, so is the Escurial silent, 
 severe, and plain. It is Philip, look where you will. 
 Courts, galleries, refectories, turrets, chapels, everything 
 bears his imprint. Even the windows letting in the light 
 of day are small, just as his soul was small, and light is 
 admitted mixed with darkness.. The intention seems to 
 have been to make the interior as suggestive of the eternal 
 mysteries as possible, and it has been done with extraor- 
 dinary fidelity. 
 
 It happened to rain and blow on the day of my visit, but 
 even these unpropitious accompaniments exercised slight 
 influence upon the surroundings. They came as a matter 
 of course to emphasize the traditional melancholy of the 
 palatial neighborhood. I really think sunshine must feel 
 lonely in the great congregation of shadows, and call forth 
 an involuntary compassion. 
 
 The Escurial is a score or more of miles from Madrid, 
 across a landscape seared and sterile and rocky. The rail- 
 way is not an easy one, nor does it run through gardens 
 or leap cascades. Even the engineers who surveyed it must 
 have reproved nature for giving them so grim a route. 
 
 Away from the turmoil of the political world, shunned 
 
462 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 by human habitations save those of the custodians, and 
 sulking in the hateful embrace of the Guardarrama moun- 
 tains, more like a stupendous mausoleum than an imperial 
 palace, is the Escurial. The selection of this out-of-the-way 
 site can only be attributed to the caprice of its founder, for 
 it is secluded, unattractive, and disagreeable. To be sure, 
 the court did not prolong its stay beyond two months, but 
 even that brief sojourn must have sprinkled gray hairs on 
 knight and lady, and shaken their limbs like a palsy. 
 
 A small and insignificant brotherhood of monks dwelt 
 in the poverty-stricken hamlet of Escurial long before Philip 
 made his pious vow to commemorate the famous battle, and 
 it is more than probable that their wretched surroundings 
 presented so strong a picture of humiliation and abstinence 
 that the morbid king forthwith set about his gigantic under- 
 taking. In the course of years the towering walls of the 
 wonderful convent loomed against the heavens like a huge 
 screen, almost shutting out from view the dark mountain 
 peaks. 
 
 The atmosphere of terror hanging over this massive pile 
 is now rudely dissipated by the echo-breeding screeches of 
 locomotives, for, in spite of propriety and Spanish preju- 
 dice, the railway makes a graceful curve — a curtes}', if 
 one pleases — as it enters the royal domain. A miracle has 
 worked strange changes, and peoples from beyond the 
 Pyrenees and the ocean alight from railway carriages at 
 the very portals of the Escurial, and perambulate its sacred 
 corridors with an independence of action that ought to 
 cause the portraits to leap from their frames and resume 
 their holy tortures. 
 
 Amid the wonders of the Escurial I could but marvel at 
 the incomparable genius that designed it all. Toledo and 
 Herrera were its architects, and they brought forth from 
 their brains the most extravagant of architectural fancies. 
 
 
THE ESCURIAL. 463 
 
 Thirty years were needed for its completion, and sixty 
 millions of dollars for its cost. For more than three cen- 
 turies has this imposing structure been startling the world. 
 Kingdoms and empires have fallen to decay since Philip 
 attended mass within its walls, and yet the world keeps 
 wondering why it was made and what were its uses. When 
 one understands that the term Escurial means everything 
 inclosed by the walls, and that within the 400,000 square 
 feet are churches, chapels, a monastery so large that a le- 
 gion of Jerony mites could vex night with lamentations, 
 infirmaries, a seminary where Spanish youth might learn of 
 castles beyond Castile and Aragon, oratories, courts with 
 splashing fountains, towers, audience halls so spacious 
 that provinces might gather there to swear allegiance, refec- 
 tories, a library richer in manuscripts than any extant, pict- 
 ure galleries and frescos that are the admiration of the age, 
 and, last, that decorated pantheon where sleep the royal 
 dead, then the magnitude of this regal conceit comes before 
 one. 
 
 The shape of the structure is a rectangular parallelogram, 
 with great square towers at each corner, so that impres- 
 sionable imaginations insist that the plan represents a grid- 
 iron. Well, so it does, and likewise it might represent 
 other useful and ornamental things, if one were an adept 
 in searching out resemblances. I gave no thought to the 
 fanciful gridiron, but looked about with wondering eyes. 
 Surely, the character of the Escurial is the grandest in 
 Christendom. In no part is there a falling away from the 
 majestic harmony. Each section is to the whole what a 
 link is to the chain. 
 
 Entering through the principal gateway, with its pon- 
 derous portico, one comes into the Court of the Kings, — 
 and an applicable name it is. High and roughly hewn walls 
 enclose the court, and reveal the immensity of the Escurial. 
 
464 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 As you enter, the church is directly in front, and on its 
 great steps are the celebrated statues. Six in number and 
 colossal in size, they are rightly placed there, for they are 
 the kings of Judah. Why Philip in his ecstasy did not 
 bestow a cathedral dignity on his Escurial church is inex- 
 plicable. The congregation, to be sure, was not large, but 
 the grandeur of the sanctuary could not be surpassed by any 
 church in his kingdom. It stands on 70,000 square feet, 
 and measures 340 feet one way and 200 the other. It would 
 command the profoundest reverence anywhere in the relig- 
 ious world, but shut up behind prison-like walls, its interior 
 only is left to admire. Constructed in the form of a Greek 
 cross, with a mammoth dome rising 400 feet, this church 
 may well be ranked among the architectural triumphs of all 
 time. Its interior is somewhat disappointing, inasmuch as 
 everything suggests barrenness. The pillars and columns 
 are huge and lofty, the marbles and porphyry on the walls 
 are rich, and yet there is a noticeable want of that ecclesi- 
 astical ornamentation so common throughout southern 
 Europe. It may be that the gloom of the locality intensifies 
 the prevailing sombreness of the church, and conceals the 
 gems and marvels of sculpture which the edifice certainly 
 contains ; but account for this in any way I pleased, the feel- 
 ing of uncanniness and depression would not be shaken off. 
 The high altar vies with Seville in gorgeous embellish- 
 ments, and so do the oratories beside it : on both, chisels and 
 gold have plied their splendid arts until they dazzle in the 
 uncertain light. In the small chapels, and in the pretentious 
 sacristy, are relics innumerable, most of them garnered up 
 by Philip, although his successors are said to have been very 
 assiduous in their attention to holy bones. It must occur to 
 every one that no better storage place could be found on 
 earth. I was permitted to peer into chests ossifying with 
 saints and saints emeriti, and had I been more patient my 
 
PHILIP'S CELL. 465 
 
 guide might have given me some of the sacred remains to 
 handle. 
 
 Above and at one side of the altar is the little room occu- 
 pied by Philip during his last sickness. In this mean cell 
 one may indulge in all sorts of meditations : the vicissitudes, 
 the glamor, and the power of potentates present themselves 
 most vividly, and teach a never-to-be-forgotten lesson. 
 Scantily furnished and bare of ornament, with cold tile 
 floors, was the last throne room of the great monarch. 
 Hideous with disease, loathsome beyond the pen to de- 
 scribe, neglected and almost alone, prone on the pavement, 
 the crowned fiend looked through the open window upon 
 the flaming altar. Thus he heard his last mass ; and after 
 so many years the avenger of Egmont and Horn came into 
 the strong Escurial and fulfilled his vow — and the son of 
 Charles was no more. 
 
 Beneath the altar is the burying-place of Spain's royalty, 
 and into its depths a flickering taper leads you. The cham- 
 ber of death is octagonal in shape, and formed of black mar- 
 bles and jasper. A small altar is there, and hanging over it 
 is a superb crystal chandelier, whose darting prisms rarely 
 illumine the gloom. All around are places for the dead, 
 most of them tenanted ; but a few are still yawning. With 
 a showy ceremonial each king and queen selects a favorite 
 niche, so that the post-mortem proceedings may not give 
 rise to acrimonious discussions. In these narrow homes lie 
 Charles V, the Philips, the Charleses, the Ferdinands, and 
 queens, among them sweet Mercedes. It will not be many 
 years before this crypt will be found insufficient : then mod- 
 ern Spain must desert it, and leave the Castilian kings alone 
 forever. 
 
 The palace has nothing to command the leisure minutes 
 of strangers : its apartments are like hundreds of others in 
 all parts of Europe, and its decorations call forth no especial 
 20* 
 
466 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 remark. The tapestries are faded and colorless, but the 
 master canvases of Velazquez and Goya still show lustre 
 and expression. Fortunately, the best pictures have been 
 carried to Madrid, where care and safety are assured. 
 
 Over a staircase so grand that a regiment of the guard 
 might bivouac on its marble steps, are the enormous fres- 
 cos of Giordano, and beyond is the magnificent library, 
 whose volumes are almost as unattainable as the nectar of 
 the gods. It is large, and full of most ornate moulding and 
 gilding ; the cases contain thousands of precious works, 
 among them a complete history of the Moorish epochs. 
 But so ignorant are the fussy librarians, that no one may see 
 the inside of a single tome. However, they are beautiful 
 to gaze upon, and, with edges turned outward, remind one 
 of golden wainscoting. Flames, inconsiderate of manu- 
 scripts, swept through this depository, and much was lost ; 
 then the French, like so many red Indians, applied the 
 torch ; and still later, in our own day, another fiery calamity 
 visited the library. But enough is left to delight the be- 
 holder, especially the illuminated texts, which are as bright 
 as golden sunsets. 
 
 The convent, its wards and deserted refectories, will not 
 detain one — the scene is too sad ; so on through silent courts 
 and endless corridors you go, then across paved squares where 
 even grass and weeds struggle hard to live, threading nar- 
 row passages, emerging on granite galleries only to meet 
 the dull stare of an opposing facade, never stopping, only too 
 glad to be moving, then faltering, fearful that you are hope- 
 lessly lost in some frightful labyrinth ; but the old guide 
 reassures you, and on you press. Even beneath the mon- 
 strous pile a subterranean tunnel runs, and along its oozing 
 sides you feel your way, your heart pressed almost into your 
 mouth ; then the open air, although so leaden and damp, 
 seems like a ray specially sent from the sun. Such were my 
 
PALACE AND ARMORY. 467 
 
 experiences in Philip's wonder-house, and when T left its 
 grim precincts I was glad that the vast fortress of departed 
 grandeur and hollow mockery of kingly ambitions would 
 not lay across my path again. 
 
 After months passed in the cities and provinces of the 
 south, Madrid can hold out but few attractions : its origin 
 is comparatively recent, and its architecture belongs to 
 the present age. The royal palace is the handsomest and 
 largest of the public buildings, being some 400 feet long and 
 100 high — so the sharp-voiced guide informed me. It is 
 built in the Tuscan style, and, owing to its elevation above 
 the Manzanares, presents one of the most imposing facades 
 in Europe. Admittance is not easily obtained, and I con- 
 tented myself in walking about the great quadrangle, flanked 
 with its massive pillars of carved marble. 
 
 At one side of the palace is the royal armory, containing 
 the completest collection of arms and armor in the world, 
 and affording a rare study of man-killing contrivances from 
 the darkest ages down to the present. A*general in the 
 thirteenth century, and those immediately following, must 
 have been suggestive of a moving silversmith's shop, for his 
 adornments surpass church decorations in elaboration of 
 design and workmanship. Nor was his steed neglected 
 by the ingenious hands of those gallant days — not at all ; the 
 animal came in for a generous recognition, and, judging 
 from its weight and cumbersomeness, nothing short of a 
 broadside could have upset him. 
 
 They point out the sword of the Cid, and talk so fast re- 
 garding it that one is left in doubt whether that worthy used 
 it to cleave oft* heads or to adorn his august person. Boabdil 
 contributes several family effects, such as rings and hel- 
 mets, and the battle of Lepanto furnishes spoils enough to 
 fill a large section. The museum is so full of curiosities 
 that only a student can get away without a headache. In 
 
468 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 an hour or two quick tourists will take a comprehensive 
 glance at every thing worth seeing, and never regret that a 
 sword or a saddle has been passed by unseen. 
 
 At the opposite end of the palace are the royal stables, 
 rich with the world's most beautiful horses, who demand the 
 nicest care. I have seen these splendid animals at a king's 
 wedding, and shall never forget the appearance they made 
 nor the encomiums they received. 
 
 Away in another part of the city, past the Cortes, — and I 
 must confess that for a parliament house this is in no wise 
 noteworthy, — is the magnificent picture gallery. No matter 
 what calamity may befall Spain, may the gods spare two 
 objects — the Alhambra and this gallery. More than two 
 thousand pictures hang on its walls. The choicest pro- 
 ductions of that galaxy of immortals who grace the earth 
 but once, — Titian, Rubens, Raphael, Velasquez, Murillo, 
 Tintoretto, Van Dyck, Goya, and others scarcely less 
 eminent, — are seen here at their best. No gallery offers 
 such unbounded advantages and opportunities as this. In 
 Paris, Dresden, Florence, and St. Petersburg the cities 
 themselves are jealous of attention, but it is not so in Ma- 
 drid. There one is free to spend whole days among the 
 master canvases, and may quit the city without losing a 
 sight worth regretting. To a person contemplating a visit 
 to Madrid, reasonable time ought to be given to this muse- 
 um, and by way of preparation a good descriptive book on 
 art should be read ; then, conversant with a catalogue, the 
 progress through the priceless rooms will be both pleas- 
 urable and profitable. 
 
 Vagabondage in its pure nakedness is not often seen in 
 Madrid. The racy types of Granada and Seville do not 
 seem to thrive so far north. Sickening deformities are not 
 held at a premium on the banks of the Manzanares, and 
 the low moaning and rattle of tin cups are not heard. For 
 
MADRID. 469 
 
 my part, this conspicuous scarcity was thoroughly appre- 
 ciated. I have no doubt that Madrid, like every other city, 
 has its full share of unfortunate inhabitants, but, so far as 
 my observation went, the fact did not show itself in any 
 unpleasant way. The people, even those of lowly calling, 
 appeared more self-reliant and better conditioned than in 
 other Spanish towns, and they had an air of something to 
 do about them which was truly refreshing. In respect of 
 their garments, it is plain to any one that they depend more 
 on tailors than on indulgent Nature to keep them warm. 
 You see very little of the Andalusian filigree of rags and 
 tatters in strolling about the streets, for either the climate 
 or the police is hostile to such masquerading. 
 
 If one could go to Madrid by balloon, the sights and 
 experiences, while odd at first, would quickly adapt them- 
 selves to a rational arrangement, and, the bull-fight excepted, 
 the city and its people might pass for a detached section of 
 France, Germany, or Italy ; but as aerial travelling is not 
 practicable, Madrid must be seen focused through many 
 strange lenses. Even then distinctively Spanish traits are 
 reduced to their lowest terms, and no longer furnish cause 
 for remark. Unless one seek the slums of the city, — and 
 the slums are not a dead cat or a heap of garbage worse 
 than the same localities in New York or London, — the 
 general appearance is cleanly and respectable. The labyrin- 
 th ian streets are infrequent, for much the larger number are 
 straight and dignified, their houses are better constructed, 
 and the patios and court-yards are better kept. In the 
 quarter inhabited by the wealthy the mansions are Parisian 
 to the last nail, and were it not for the idiom of the neigh- 
 borhood, one might as well be in Pare Morceau. But 
 while these imported comforts are too un-Spanish to please 
 the sight-seer, they certainly afford a relief from the pict- 
 uresque unevenness of other places, and give to Madrid a 
 
470 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 well deserved reputation for rest and comfort. The hotels 
 are by far the best in the country, and one begins to scent 
 Frenchified delicacies in soup and entree. 
 
 It is so with the shops : they are exotics, and most decid- 
 edly foreign, but I fear as much cannot be said of their 
 clerks. Instead of " English spoken here," it is " lei on 
 parle Francaise" and such a parle Francaise! The 
 Spaniard makes a terrible piece of work with the language 
 of Corneille and Voltaire, — worse than the English, if 
 such a thing were possible. He has his own method of 
 pronunciation, and of syntax, and is courageous to the 
 last degree. No matter how imperfect one's knowledge of 
 French may be, a journey through Spain will make one 
 bold to temerity, and give no end to conceit. As a rule, 
 anybody's French is as good as the Spaniards', and there 
 need be no hesitation in speaking right out. 
 
 My last hours in storied Spain were fast fading. My 
 search for a genial winter had been rewarded by everything 
 that tended to make life enjoyable by health, pleasure, and 
 profit ; and now that May danced on the horizon, I regret- 
 fully threw an affectionate adios to the romances and real- 
 ities of the castled kingdom, and turned my face toward the 
 Pyrenees. 
 
 Just at dusk the train rolled past the grim shadows of the 
 Escurial, standing against the mountains like some monster 
 fiend incarnate ; then the night and its mysteries enveloped 
 the earth, and I had seen the last of Spain. Through the 
 darkness the train climbed and toiled, but my sleep was 
 sound, and perchance my dreams were of cathedral pag- 
 eants and the sports of the arena, of Moorish palaces and 
 wild fantasies ; but on it sped, until the early sun was 
 flinging a million sparkling gems into the Bay of Biscay. 
 I had reached the frontier, and Spain had become a wor- 
 shipped idol. 
 
SPAIN INTO FRANCE. 47 1 
 
 The little town of Irun, bunched upon the banks of the 
 Bidassoa, is the gate through which I passed back into 
 France. There every one must change carriages, relegate 
 things Spanish to the past, and forthwith cultivate a fond- 
 ness for the people, the table, and the language of the 
 French. The wayside sights and station experiences, even 
 at this frontier post, are almost as deeply dyed in Spanish 
 peculiarities as any I had seen. The costumes varied some- 
 what, owing to the admixture of Basque modifications, but 
 the true characteristics still remained. It was the same 
 old crowd of loud-talking and easy-doing mortals, with 
 scarcely a modern idea about them. They dressed in 
 short jackets and trousers, and wore broad red sashes. 
 Their skins were as dark as those of Andalusia, and their 
 cigarettes impregnated the air with a rankness quite unmis- 
 takable. The houses were huddled together, the streets were 
 uneven, and the general aspect was of the antiquated Moor- 
 ish kind. Spanish tenacity held out to the very edge of the 
 kingdom, almost persuading me that the boundary line was 
 many leagues distant ; and yet a child could have tossed a 
 pebble into the republic of France. National reluctance to 
 change was everywhere manifested. Even the carriages of 
 the Spanish Northern Railway are not permitted to leave 
 the country, nor are the French carriages suffered to glide 
 over into Spanish territory. This little international gap, if 
 the place may be so insulted, is too sacred for the common 
 passage of men and women, so all are conveyed from one 
 country to the other in neutral carriages, whose trips could 
 not exceed three minutes. 
 
 Midway in the unpretentious Bidassoa is a little island 
 called the Isle of Pheasants, half being in Spain and half in 
 France ; but aside from its former uses, the insignificant 
 patch of turf would be unnoticed. Louis XIV went there 
 to meet his bride, and later it became a favorite spot for 
 
472 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 treaty makers ; but now ambassadors prefer to perform 
 these momentous duties amid more genial surroundings, 
 and the Isle of Pheasants has become a mere speck in geo- 
 graphical annals. 
 
 Anchored in the tranquil stream was a small gunboat 
 with the tricolor flying from its mast, and on its polished 
 deck were a score of trimly dressed sailors. Into France, so 
 cleanly and smiling, we had come, and nowhere in Europe 
 is the transition from one country to another so remarkable. 
 Every field was clad in brightest verdure, the hedges were 
 cut like the moustache of a gend'arm, and the white-wash- 
 ed houses presented a wholesome contrast to the twisted 
 and saffron habitations across the border. In that instan- 
 taneous view I realized at once how old and tarnished Spain 
 was, and how strange were its customs and its people. It is 
 a wrinkled grandee wrapped up in a rich cape. How 
 strangely different was the threshold of France. There 
 at Hendaye, known only as a frontier village, the comforts 
 and pleasures of Paris began to show themselves. The 
 station was commodious and tidy, and the buffet appe- 
 tizing. 
 
 The trainmen had changed as completely as the scenery. 
 They no longer appeared indifferent to time, but moved 
 about with military promptness. The custom examination 
 did not lag, and after a reasonable wait we moved on across 
 the sandy plains known as the Landes. The soil is wretch- 
 edly poor, owing to its annual overflowing, and agriculture 
 exists only in its simplest form. Yet in the face of this, 
 the landscape, as seen from the windows, is not wholly 
 sad ; on the contrary, there is a freshness and promise about 
 it which is undoubtedly the result of patient husbandry. 
 In the distance, and often, too, in the foreground, large for- 
 ests of pine trees relieved the sterility of the country, and 
 gave evidence of an artificial attempt to reclaim something 
 
BIARRITZ. 473 
 
 from the caprices of nature. In my school-days this section 
 of the earth's surface was vividly associated with walking 
 on stilts, — and sure enough the pictures of my boyhood 
 became striking realities, for many times during the ride 
 I saw men and women trudging along mounted on stilts, 
 which they managed with astonishing ease. Through the 
 sandy fields and over stubble, pausing at no obstacle, these 
 ostrich-like peasants took their way. The men smoked 
 and chatted, and the women kept on knitting, quite uncon- 
 scious that wood-cuts of their grandfathers embellished the 
 geographies of the New World. 
 
 No part of France furnishes the artist with choicer bits of 
 nature than the sea-girt provinces of Landes and Gironde, 
 and art galleries will never be without canvases depicting 
 their picturesque scenery and quaint inhabitants. The 
 plains, the pines, and the long sweep of the dunes, are in 
 themselves a rare combination ; but add to them the rude 
 peasants in strange costumes, and the picture grows truly 
 fascinating. 
 
 Biarritz, clinging to the overhanging cliffs, holds out a 
 variety of marine attractions, which allure to its bosom 
 votaries from every clime, and send them away refreshed 
 and invigorated. The old town is built on terraces gentle 
 in steepness, thus affording easy access to the chalets and 
 hotels, and at the same time giving a wide expanse of 
 blue sea and passing sail. The season was in its infancy 
 at the time of my advent ; — the streets were deserted ; the 
 shutters hung over the little shops where souvenirs are 
 sold ; and the hotels were just opening their watchful eyes. 
 Everything presented a pleasing appearance quite consistent 
 with the pure breezes from the sea. On the hard beach fish- 
 ermen were repairing nets and tarring their boats, creating 
 quite unconsciously one of those very pictures that artists 
 are always searching for. Near by, children played among 
 
474 AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the rocks with a freedom which is denied them during the 
 height of the season, for then their antics and economic 
 ideas of dress become a trifle racy for polite society, and 
 have to undergo considerable change. 
 
 The women wore wide flapping hats, from which hung 
 long braids of glossy hair. Their dress was lively in color 
 and short in length, and on their feet were cumbersome 
 sabots. Like so many of their European sisters, they think 
 nothing of bearing bundles on their heads so as to leave 
 their hands free for knitting. My rest in Biarritz only 
 afforded a glimpse of the townspeople, and yet they 
 made a most favorable impression because they looked 
 honest and frank. As for physical recommendations, I 
 am prepared to concede all the complimentary things trav- 
 ellers have said about them. They are fair in face and 
 good in form. 
 
 Prominent on the long promontory stands the Chateau 
 Eugenie, once the summer palace of Napoleon, but now 
 unoccupied and silent. Still, sad as its history is, it was in 
 keeping with the surrounding mansions, and had it not 
 been for its unusual size and somewhat isolated dignity, it 
 might readily have passed as the seaside house of some city 
 banker. 
 
 A few hours of this solitary sight-seeing, even at Biarritz, 
 is sufficient ; but the town breaks the long journey from 
 Madrid to Paris, and enables the traveller to make a fresh 
 start, and more fully to enjoy the pleasures so thickly scat- 
 tered along the route. Pleasing diversions and new sights 
 begin to show themselves in the streets of this fashionable 
 watering-place, and one readily recognizes that the cus- 
 toms of the inhabitants are neither wholly French nor 
 Spanish ; and the same may be said of their language. I 
 think of this extreme south-western country as one possess- 
 ing an interesting identity, and jealous of its ancient customs 
 
BORDEAUX. . 475 
 
 and privileges. Let the tourist by all means give a few idle 
 hours to the salubrious breezes of Biarritz, and so make 
 certain of a speaking acquaintance with one of Europe's 
 most famous breathing-spots. 
 
 The journey toward Paris is agreeable and easy, and the 
 ride of 400 miles is comfortably done by rapid trains, which 
 rush through some of the most charming scenery in France. 
 At Bordeaux I tarried again, and was richly repaid by the 
 sights of a most beautiful city. Like Seville in many 
 respects, and yet unlike it, is this city on the Garonne. It 
 is situated in the midst of a lovely district, and the river 
 curves and widens through it, much as the Guadalquivir 
 does in the Spanish city ; but Bordeaux is cleaner and more 
 dignified. The edifices wear, so to speak, an aristocratic 
 air, and the boulevards have a spaciousness decidedly be- 
 coming. While Bordeaux, like Marseilles, is one of the 
 great commercial cities, it has managed in some way to 
 retain the distinctively Gascon characteristics, only modified 
 or changed in accordance with the requirements of progress. 
 The city is quiet, and yet its inhabitants are light-hearted 
 and pleasure-loving, and their theatres, like their wines, 
 have a well established reputation. The old-time exclu- 
 siveness pervades every street and alley, and even the 
 antiquated tower of St. Michael, with its cave of unsight- 
 ly inmates, presents a certain haughtiness quite in keep- 
 ing with the rest of the town. It is the haughtiness of horror, 
 to be sure, but it impressed me strongly. In the crypt, 
 ranged around the black walls, are the grimacing dead men, 
 each standing erect, with shining skull and skinny hands ; 
 and by the aid of the flickering light they seemed to move, 
 as if eager to pace their accustomed streets once more. 
 The guide explained all about his mummified neighbors ; 
 but when I asked if he himself looked forward with pleas- 
 ure to his own burial, he did not take it in good part like 
 
47^ AALESUND TO TETUAN. 
 
 the jolly monk in the Capuchin convent at Rome, but glared 
 at me and muttered in unintelligible Gascon. 
 
 The broad Garonne is spanned by a stone bridge, the 
 handsomest, I think, in Europe ; and below is another, 
 over which, when the lamps were twinkling, my train 
 rushed on its way to Paris. Through the night and into 
 the morning we sped, then the splendid city of the Seine 
 was at hand, and my journey was at an end. 
 
 A few weeks later I was in Southampton, where two 
 years before I had taken the steamer for the Channel Islands. 
 The town had not changed a cobble-stone ; even the jaunty 
 red-coat, with his collar-box cap and short stick, standing 
 on the quay, looked just as I left him, and I could scarcely 
 realize how far I had travelled and how much I had seen in 
 my seven hundred days. 
 
 There is no education comparable to that taught by 
 travel, and its diploma is good the world over. Above all, 
 it teaches its pupils the inestimable art of philosophy and 
 patience, and enriches the mind beyond the power of age 
 to wither. One learns to bear the inconveniences he can- 
 not change, and to regard the seeming absurdities of differ- 
 ent peoples as so many essentials in their national existence. 
 When one can conquer prejudices and discomforts, and 
 discern silver linings in dark clouds, then the journey from 
 Aalesund to Tetuan will be a golden chapter which time 
 can never dim. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Aalesund, 142-145 
 Alum Bay, 12 
 Avernus, Lake, j6 
 Alhambra, 430 
 Augustus, 73-90 
 ^Eneas, 78 
 Agostino Basti, 121 
 Aak, 139-141 
 Akersvass, 160 
 Alexander III, 164 
 
 Abo, 170-173 
 
 Abelard and Heloise, 298 
 
 Alphonso XII, 332, 233^ 340, 459 
 
 Algeciras, 380 
 
 Abdurrahman, 424, 427 
 
 IB 
 
 Brading, 8 
 Bonchurch, 9, 10 
 Blackgang, n, 12 
 Brixton, 12 
 Brooke, 12 
 Bologna, 102, 103 
 
 Hotel Brun, 102 
 Blanc, M., 47, 49, 52 
 British consul at Nice on gambling, 
 
 54 
 Blue Grotto, 60, 88, 89, 90 
 Baja, 77 
 Bacoli, 77 
 Barcelona, 79 
 Barbarigo, 108 
 Bassanio, 1 1 1 
 
 Byzantine architecture, ill 
 Byron, Lord, 112 
 Bardonneche, 125 
 Bergen, 141, 146-148 
 Borgund, church of, 155 
 Bernadotte, 160, 164 
 
 Berlin, 285 
 
 Unter den Linden, 284 
 
 Monument to William I, 284 
 
 Statue of Frederick the Great, 
 285 
 
 The old emperor, 285 
 
 Soldiers, 285 
 
 Potsdam, 286 
 Bingen, 291 
 Biebrich, 291 
 Baden Baden, 292 
 Beranger, 288 
 Barcelona, 307 
 
 Hotels, 308 
 
 Rambla, The, 308 
 
 Cafes, 310 
 
 Newspapers and Lotteries, 311 
 
 Campo Santo, 313 
 
 Sea mole, 315 
 
 Monjuich, 315 
 Baylen, 451-458 
 Biarritz, 473 
 Bordeaux, 475 
 
 Channel islands, 16 
 
 Captain, The, 4 
 
 Carisbrooke castle, 13, 14 
 
 Charles I, 13, 14 
 
 Casquets, The, 14 
 
 Caen, 22, 32, 33 
 
 Chaumontelle pears, 27 
 
 Caesar, 40, 76 
 
 Cannes, 40, 46 
 
 Christiania, 128, 158 
 
 Charles, Prince of Monaco, 48-50 
 
 Capri, 88 
 
 Caracalla, 76 
 
 Castellamare, 85 
 
 Cook's excursionists, 38 
 
 Casserta, 96 
 
478 
 
 WDEX. 
 
 Charles II, 97, 425 
 Charlemagne, 116 
 Catullus, 116 
 Cavour, 121 
 Christiansand, 126, 127 
 Charles XV, 134, 163 
 Cortez, 153, 217 
 Charles XII, 160, 164, 165 
 Constantin, The, 170, 177 
 Cronstadt, 175 
 Collet, Marie, 202 
 Catharine the Great, 209 
 Catherine, wife of Peter the Great, 
 
 260 
 Cologne, 288 
 Coblentz, 290 
 
 Clement-Thomas, Gen., 298 
 Charles V, 323, 465 
 Christina, Queen, 332, 340, 345, 348 
 Castelar, Emilio, 334 
 Cadiz, 390 
 
 Cano, Alonzo, 412,448 
 Cordova, 420 
 
 Streets, 422 
 
 Mosque, 422 
 
 3D 
 
 Dreadnaught, The, 4 
 
 Devastation, The, 4 
 
 Dictator, The, 4 
 
 Daishes, 8 
 
 Diana, The, 14 
 
 Du Guesclin, 27 
 
 Dore, 35 
 
 Dieppe, 35 
 
 Doria, Andrea, 55, 56 
 
 Dandolo, 108 
 
 Dante, 121 
 
 Dombaas, 136 
 
 Dovrefjeld, 136 
 
 Drottningholm, 167 
 
 Dolgorouki, Prince, 233, 236, 238 
 
 Demetrius, 246 
 
 Davoust, Gen., 298 
 
 David, 298 
 
 E 
 
 Euphorbus, 33 
 Edward, 34 
 Eidsvold, 130 
 
 Eide, 150 
 Eric, 167 
 Eudoxia, 262 
 Eugenie of France, 331 
 Eufrasio, Saint, 455 
 Escurial, The, 461-470 
 Egmont, Count, 465 
 
 Freshwater, 8-12 
 Fermain bay, 19 
 Frejus, 40 
 Florence, 99 
 
 Campanile, 100 
 
 Casine, 100 
 
 Misericordia, Society of, 100 
 
 Tribune, The 99 
 Fossegaarden, 132 
 Folgefond, 150 
 Fillefjeld, 154-156 
 Finland, 170 
 
 Falconet the Sculptor, 202 
 Frederick the Great, 203, 286, 287 
 Fortuny, 213 
 Frankfort, 294 
 Foy, Gen., 298 
 Frascuelo, 334 
 Fondac, 369 
 
 Guernsey, 17 
 Granville, 29 
 Gorey bay, 26, 27 
 Garibaldi, 43 
 Grimaldis, 46, 48, 50 
 Genoa, 55, 58 
 
 Aqua sola, 58 
 
 Balbi palace, 55 
 
 Nuova palace, 55 
 
 San Lorenzo, 56 
 
 St. John chapel, 57 
 
 St. Ambrogio, 57 
 Gennaro of Naples, 69 
 Garda, Lake, 119 
 Gallienus, 116, 117 
 Great Bernard, 124 
 Grant, Gen., 134 
 Glencoe, Gap of, 135 
 Gudbrandsdal, 136 
 Geiranger fjord, 143, 144, 150 
 Gudvangen, 154 
 
INDEX. 
 
 479 
 
 Gothenburg, 158, 159, 161 
 
 Gota Canal, 159, 160 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus, 160, 164, 166 
 
 Gripsholm, 161 
 
 Gustavus, Crown Prince, 162 
 
 Gustavus III, 164, 166 
 
 Gustavus Vasa, 165, 167 
 
 Gerome, 213 
 
 Gordito, 344 
 
 Gibraltar, 381 
 
 Gonzales and Byass, 396 
 
 Gayarre, Senor, 409 
 
 Goya, 412, 466 
 
 Granada, 429 
 
 Alhambra, 430 
 Hotels, 429 
 Gate of Justice, 432 
 Court of the Algibes, 432 
 Water carriers, 433 
 Charles's palace, 433 
 Court of Myrtles, 434 
 Tower of Comares, 435 
 Hall of the Ambassadors, 
 
 435 
 Court of Lions, 436 
 Hall of the Abencerrages, 
 
 433 
 Hall of the Two Sisters, 
 
 439 
 Hall of Justice, 439 
 Bath rooms, 440 
 The mint, 440 
 Vela tower, 449 
 Sacro Monte and Gypsies, 441 
 The Generalife, 443 
 The city, 444 
 The Salon, 445 
 Cathedral, 446 
 The Cartuja 447 
 Bull-ring, 449 
 Giordano, 466 
 Guardia Civile, 457 
 
 H 
 
 Hercules, The, 4 
 Hugo, Victor, 20 
 Hautville, 20 
 Horace, 36, 76, 392 
 Humbert, King, 58 
 Herculaneum, 60 
 Henry of Navarre, 108 
 
 Homer, 131 
 Hunnerfos, 132 
 Haarfagre, Harold, 135 
 Hellesylt, 143 
 Hardanger fjord, 148 
 His fjord, 149 
 Heen, 158 
 
 Helsingfors, 173, 174 
 Heidelburg, 292 
 Hadrian, 400 
 Herod, 406 
 Herrara, 412 
 Hissam, 427 
 Horn, Count, 465 
 Hendaye, 472 
 
 Inflexible, The, 4 
 Italia, The, 4 
 Isle of Wight, 7 
 Ischia, 60, 87 
 Isabella, Queen, 330 
 Irun, 471 
 
 Jersey, 21 
 
 Joan of Arc, 36 
 
 John the Terrible, 229, 234, 240 
 
 Jerez, 395 
 
 Jaen, 453 
 
 People, 454 
 
 Cathedral, 455 
 
 Shop and dwellings, 455 
 
 JSL 
 
 Kvindherren fjord, 149 
 Kellerman, Gen., 208 
 
 Lepanto, The battle of, 55, 
 
 La Chaire, 27 
 
 Les Arcs, 40 
 
 Louis XIV, 43, 303, 471 
 
 Lucrinus, 76 
 
 Lorraine, 101 
 
 Lombardy, 102, 115 
 
 Lillehammer, 131 
 
 Loug river, 132 
 
 Laesoskongen, 138 
 
 [oS 
 
480 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Laerdalsoren, 154 
 Laera river, 154 
 Linnaeus, 167, 168 
 Lecompte, Gen., 298 
 LaPlace, Marquis, 298 
 Lagartijo, 334 
 Leal, 412 
 Landes, The, 472 
 
 JVL 
 
 Martello towers, 19 
 
 Millais, 23 
 
 Mont Orgueil, 27 
 
 Matilda, 34 
 
 Monte Carlo, 42, 46 
 
 Mentone, 46 
 
 Monaco, 46 
 
 Misenum, 74, 76, 78 
 
 Mercury, 77 
 
 Meta, 94 
 
 Madonna of St. Luke, Church of 
 
 103 
 Mocenigo, 108 
 Mekhitar, 112 
 Mercutio, 113 
 Milan, 119, 125 
 
 Arcade, 120 
 
 Marble works, 121 
 
 Breta gallery, 121 
 
 Raphael, " Marriage of the 
 Virgin," 121 
 
 St. Ambrose, Church Da Vinci, 
 " Last Supper," 122 
 
 Cathedral, 122, 124 
 Marco Polo, 121 
 Michael Angelo, 121 
 Machiavel, 121 
 Marcus Agratus, 123 
 Mont Cenis, 124, 125 
 Modane, 125 
 Mjosen lake, 131 
 Moen, 135 
 Molmen, 137-139 
 Molde, 141, 142 
 Merok, 144 
 Maabodal, 151 
 Malar lake, r6i 
 Meisonnier, 213 
 Muncaczy, 213 
 Morney, Duke of, 298 
 
 Marseilles, 299 
 
 Mendoza, 352 
 
 Marinus, 352 
 
 Morocco, 358 
 
 Murillo, 412 
 
 Moscow, 224 
 
 Church of the Saviour, 179 
 Kremlin, 224, 226, 229, 250 
 St. Basil, 225, 229 
 Gostinnoi Dvor, 227, 229 
 Cathedral of the Assumption, 
 
 232, 234, 235, 237 
 Ivan tower, 238-240 
 Great bell, 239-243 
 Sparrow Hills, 240, 271 
 Bells, 241-243 
 
 Cathedral of St. Michael, 245 
 Religious processions, 247 
 Arsenal, 250 
 Senate house, 251 
 Palace, the old, 251 
 Palace, the new, 252 
 Hall of St. George, 253 
 Hall of St. Andrew, 254 
 Tarem, The, 255 
 Treasury, The, 256 
 Ascension convent, 262 
 Market-place, 262 
 St. Basil, Church of, 263 
 Our Saviour, Cathedral of, 265 
 Foundling hospital, 266 
 Iberian Mother, 267 
 Cafes, 26S 
 
 Imperial University, 270 
 Ethnological Museum, 270 
 
 MacDonald, Gen., 29S 
 
 Massena, Gen., 298 
 
 Mirabeau, 301 
 
 Mahomet, the guide, 361 
 
 Mark Twain, 362 
 
 Medina-Celi, Duke of, 416 
 
 Mercedes, Queen, 465 
 
 Madrid, 325 
 
 Plaza de Toros, 337 
 Dos de Mayo, 459 
 Palace, 467 
 Armory, 467 
 Royal stables, 468 
 Picture gallery, 468 
 Vagabondage, 468 
 Shops, 470 
 
INDEX. 
 
 481 
 
 3sr 
 
 Nelson, Lord, 5, 6, 390 
 Nile, Battle of, 6 
 Nice, 11, 40 
 
 Chateau hill, 42, 44 
 
 Carabacel highway, 44 
 
 Cimies, 45 
 
 Franciscan monastery, 44 
 
 Paillon, The, 45 ■ 
 Needles, The, 12, 13 
 Newport, 13 
 Napoleon III, 43, 474 
 Naples, 59 
 
 Museum, 67, 68 
 
 Aquarium, 71 
 
 Corso Victor Emanuele, 61 
 
 Cathedral, 68, 69 
 
 Chiaja, 71 
 
 Campo Santo Vecchio, 79-83 
 
 Bay of Naples, 59, 60, 77 
 
 via Roma, 64 
 
 Santa Lucia, 62, 84 
 
 San Carlo theatre, 70 
 
 Santa Anna de Lombardi, 70 
 
 Santa-Chiara, 70 
 
 Santa Maria della Pieta de 
 Sangri, 71 
 
 via Toledo, 64, 67 
 
 Villa Nazionale, 71 
 
 Piazza del Plebiscito, 62 
 Neptune temples, 68, 76, 88 
 Nero, 75-77 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, 109, 203, 230, 
 240, 255, 275, 298 
 Nepos, 116 
 Norway, 126 
 Naerodal, 153, 154 
 Nystuen, 156, 157 
 Napoleon IV, 160 
 Nevski, Alexander, 184-186 
 Nicholas I, 193, 194, 216, 223, 243, 
 250, 253, 265 
 Novgorood, 223 
 Ney, Marshal, 298 
 Napier, Lord, 389 
 
 Offenbach, 18 
 Oscar II, 134, 148, 162, 165 
 Oberwesel, 291 
 O'Donnell, Gen., 375 
 
 Portsmouth, 2 
 Pears' soap, 33 
 Pius IX, 49 
 Pozzuoli, 75 
 Possilipo, Grotto of, 72 
 Pisa, 100-102 
 
 Baptistry, 101, 102 
 
 Cathedra], 101 
 
 Campo Santo, 101, 102 
 
 Leaning Tower, 101 
 Pliny, 116 
 Paul Veronese, 116 
 Peter the Great, 178, 191, 198, 251 
 
 253 
 Poland, 276 
 Prim, Gen., 334 
 Pilate, 406 
 Pedro the Cruel, 415 
 Pheasants, Isle of, 471 
 Paris, 296 
 Pere-la-Chaise, 297 
 
 Rome, 96 
 
 Capitoline hill, 97 
 
 Caecilia Metella, Tomb of, 97 
 
 Catacombs of St. Calixtus, 97 
 
 Coliseum, 99 
 
 Forum, 97 
 
 Hadrian, Tomb of, 98 
 
 Lateran, St. John Church, 98 
 
 Liberian Basilica, 98 
 
 Moses, Statue of, 98 
 
 Pantheon, 98 
 
 Pincian hill, 99 
 
 St. Peter's, 98-122, 138-180 
 
 St. Peter's in Chains, 98 
 
 St. Paul's, 98 
 
 Tiber, 98 
 
 Trevi fountain, 99 
 
 Vatican, 98 
 
 Ava Cceli, Church of, 98 
 
 Appian Way, 97, 98 
 
 Sabine hills, 98 
 Rorkes Drift, 390 
 Rozel bay, 27 
 Rouen, 36, y], 39 
 Riviera, 40 
 Rhodes, 68 
 
 Raphael's St. Cecelia, 103 
 Romeo, 113 
 
482 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Romsdal, 139, 140, 153 
 Romsdalhorn, 141 
 Russia, 175 
 Rhine, The, 290 
 Rossini, 298 
 Raspail, 298 
 Rollin, 298 
 Racine, 298 
 Rothschilds, The, 298 
 Rachel, 298 
 Rodrigo, 352 
 Romulus and Remus, ^Q2 
 
 Ryde, 7 
 
 Sandown, 8 
 
 Shanklin, 8, 9 
 
 Shorwell, 12 
 
 Southampton, 14, 476 
 
 St. Peter Port, 19 
 
 St. Helier's, 21 
 
 St. Apolline, 20 
 
 St. Malo, 22 
 
 St. Brelade, 28 
 
 St. Martin, 28 
 
 St. Pierre, 32, ^ 
 
 St. Etienne, 32-34 
 
 St. Ouen, 37-39 
 
 St. Tohn, 56 
 
 St. Paul, 75 
 
 St. Antonio of Sorrento, 91, 94 
 
 St. Theodore, 107 
 
 St. Mark, 107 
 
 St. Ambrose, 123 
 
 St. Carlo Borromeo, 123 
 
 St. Luke, 237 
 
 St. Basil, 264 
 
 St. Goar, 291 
 
 St. Petersburg, 177 
 
 St. Isaac's, 177-179, 215-219 
 
 Admiralty, The, 177-179, 189, 
 191 
 
 Alexander monolithe, 177, 189 
 190, 191 
 
 Winter palace, 178, 179, 189 
 
 . 192, 193, 194 
 
 Hermitage, The, 178, 189, 209 
 210, 211 
 Grand Duke's palace, 179 
 War department, 179, 189, 191 
 Lady of Kasan, Church, 180 
 219 
 
 St. Petersburg — 
 
 Nevski Prospekt 180, 181 
 
 Gostini bazar, 182, 192 
 
 Nevski monastery, 183-187 
 
 Pontoon bridge, 199-196 
 
 Citadel of Peter and Paul, 195 
 196 
 
 Fortress church, 196-199 
 
 Statue of Peter the Great, 199- 
 202 
 
 Statue of Paul, 209 
 
 Statue of Suwaroff, 202 
 
 Neva, The, 203 
 
 Shrines, 203-205. 
 
 Peter's gallery, 211, 212 
 
 Peter's cottage, 213 
 
 Academy of Fine Arts, 213 
 
 Cafes, 213, 214 
 Singer sewing machine, 33 
 Sagesta, The, 59 
 Sorrento, 85 
 Solfatare, 75 
 Serapis, Temple of, 76 
 Stabia, 85 
 
 Shakespeare, 113, 114 
 Scaligers, The, 43, 113-118 
 Sammichelli, 115 
 Savonarola, 121 
 Seville, 398 
 
 Cathedral, 122, 179, 401, 410 
 
 Holy Week, 404 
 
 Strange people, 400 
 
 Charities, 411, 418 
 
 Museum, 412 
 
 Tobacco manufactory, 413 
 
 Alcazar, 414 
 
 House of Pilate, 416 
 
 A patio, 418 
 
 Foundling hospital, 418 
 
 Bull-ring, 419 
 
 Jews' quarters, 419 
 Sinclair, Col., 135 
 Stor fjord, 143, 144 
 Sor fjord, 149 
 Skogstad, 157 
 Sorum, 158 
 Spirillen river, 158 
 Stockholm, 161 
 
 Mossebacke, 161 
 
 Palace, 162-164 
 
 Riddarsholm church, 164 
 
 Ethnological museum, 164, 165 
 
INDEX. 
 
 483 
 
 Stockholm — 
 
 Natural museum, 165, 166 
 
 King's garden, 166 
 
 Berzelii park, 166 
 
 Norrbro, 166 
 
 Deer garden, 166 
 Swedenborg, 160 
 Suwaroff, Gen., 202, 203 
 Smolensk, 274 
 Strasbourg, 294 
 Scribe, 298 
 Spain, 302 
 Saragossa, 398 
 
 Thunderer, The, 3, 4 
 Trafalgar, 5, 6 
 Trouville, 34, 35 
 Turner, 35 
 Toulon, 40 
 Tiberius, y6, 90 
 Tasso, 86 
 Trieste, 97 
 Turner, 101 
 Tuscany, 101 
 Tintoretto, 107 
 Theodoric, 116, 118 
 Throndhjem, 122, 136 
 Titian, 123 
 Turin, 125 
 Toftemoen, 135 
 Tofte, Herr, 135 
 Trolltinder, 141 
 Trollhatta, 160 
 Tvar, 224 
 Taylor, Baron, 298 
 Thiers, 298 
 Talma, 298 
 Toledo, 349 
 
 Zocodover, 350 
 
 Hotel Lino, 350 
 
 Cathedral, 351 
 
 Sword works, 354 
 
 San Juan de los Reyes, 355 
 
 Santa Maria Blanca, 356 
 
 Alcazar, 356 
 Tavera, 352 
 Tangiers, 358 
 Tetuan, 365-373 
 Tarifa, 390 
 Trafalgar, 590 
 
 Trajan, 400 
 Theodosius, 400 
 Tarik, 428 
 
 XJ 
 
 Undercliff, 9, 10 
 Ulysses, 48 
 Ulriksdal, 161-167 
 Upsala, 161, 167, 168 
 
 Victory, The, 5 
 
 Virgil, Tomb of, 72, 76, 86 
 
 Ventnor, 10, n 
 
 Vesey, Mr., 42 
 
 Vesuvius, 59 
 
 Venice, 104 
 
 Arsenal, 10S 
 
 Armenian monastery, 112 
 
 Bridge of Sighs, 108 
 
 Cathedral, 105, 106 
 
 Campanile, 106 
 
 Doge's palace, 107 
 
 Florian's cafe, 1015 
 
 Frari church, no 
 
 Ghetto, The, 1 1 1 
 
 Gothic architecture, in 
 
 Merceria, The, no 
 
 Public gardens, 109 
 
 Palaces, in, 112 
 
 Rialto, The, no, 
 
 St. Mark's square, 105, no 
 
 Sclavonian quay, 109 
 
 Shylocks, no 
 
 San Lazero, 112 
 Victor Emanuel, 108, 120 
 Verona, 183 
 
 Adige, The, 113, 116 
 
 Arch de Triumph, 7 
 
 Capulets, The, 113, 114 
 
 Cathedral, 117 
 
 Corso, 117 
 
 Dante, Statue of, 116 
 
 Delia Pieta, Bridge, 117 
 
 Due Torri hotel, 119 
 
 Giusti gardens, 118 
 
 Piazza Delia Erbe, 119 
 
 San Anastasia, 116 
 
 San Zenone, 117 
 
 Castle of San Pietro, 117, 118 
 
 Scaligers, Tomb of, 113, 118 
 
 Juliet, Tomb of, 113, 114 
 
4 8 4 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Valentine, 113 
 Veblungsnaes, 141 
 Voringsfos, 150-152 
 Vik, 150 
 
 Vossevangen, 152 
 Valders, 154 
 Venern lake, 160 
 Volga, The, 224 
 Voltaire, 287 
 Valencia, 318 
 Villeneuve, 39 
 Velasquez, 412, 466 
 
 W 
 
 Wight, Isle of, 7 
 
 William the Conqueror, 16, 25, 32 
 
 33, 34, 39 
 Water lanes, 20, 21 
 William of Germany, 39 
 
 Wales, Prince of, 163 
 
 Warsaw, 277 
 
 Vistula, The, 279 
 Soldiery, 278 
 Religious toleration, 278 
 The Jews, 279, 282 
 Palace, The, 279 
 Saxon square, 280 
 Lazienki park, 281 
 Villanov, 282 
 
 Weisbaden, 291 
 
 Williams, John, 389 
 
 X 
 
 Ximenes, 353 
 
 Zululand, 389 
 Zubaran, 412 
 

 
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