THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
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 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
A JOURNEY 
 
 TO 
 
 CRETE, CONSTANTINOPLE, NAPLES, 
 AND FLOEENCE. 
 
 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNA VIVANTL 
 /I 
 
 LONDON ; 
 
 PEINTED FOR PKIVATE CIECULATION. 
 
 18G5. 
 
idinitiou. 
 
 TO MY HUSBAND. 
 
 To Thee, whose haud has kindly led me forth 
 Far o'er the land, across the deep blue sea, 
 
 Whose care and love watch'd o'er me every where, 
 I dedicate this little History. 
 
 May it recall to thee the motley crowd 
 
 Of strange and kindly people we have seen, 
 
 The golden days of the enchanted Isle, 
 
 How wondrous bright and happy they have been. 
 
 The smiling Bosphorus and grand Stamboul, 
 The glorious bay of beauteous Napoli, 
 
 Tlie festive days at Florence, — and accept 
 This as a sign of gratitude from me. 
 
 Lower Norwood, 
 
 Dec. \st, 1865. 
 
V5 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Feom London to Cbete 1 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 Crete, or the Enchanted Island ... 40 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 Constantinople 90 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Feom Constantinople to Elorence . . . 126 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 The Dante Festival at Floeence . . . 157 
 
THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 
 
 " O Wandcrn, "Waudern, meiae Lust ! "Wandern." 
 
 W. Mailer. 
 
 It was on the morning' of the 18th of March, 1805, 
 that, " equipped from top to toe," I kissed all my 
 little ones, shook hands with the kind friends who 
 were to take care of them, and started with my 
 husband on our g'rand wedding- tour. Yes, this 
 was to be our wedding* tour ; for the one we made 
 directly after our wedding', more than ten ^^ears 
 ag'o, did not deserve that name; and since then 
 we had never travelled without, w hat is most pro- 
 perly called encumbrances, not meaning- trunks or 
 bandboxes, but babies of different sizes and ag-es. 
 Our first wedding' trip ! Shall T confess that it did 
 not extend farther than Broadstairs ! How times 
 chang-e ! . Our wishes were more limited then ; 
 I am sure we thoug-ht we had g-one quite as far as 
 people could wish to g-o, for we wentb}' water, and 
 
 B 
 
2 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 the weather being* rather windy, we were both very 
 nearly sea-sick when we arrived. But no more 
 of these old bye-g'one times, I have other things 
 to tell. When we drove off, and I looked once 
 more back, my baby clapped her httle fat hands 
 tog-ether, and called out, " Lumps of delig-ht, 
 lumps of delight." A turban ! a sword ! a drum ! 
 screamed the boys, and off we drove on our way 
 to Crete. Yes, to Crete ! where nobody has ever 
 been that I know of, since Theseus. 
 
 But before we got there, we arrived at London 
 
 Bridg-e. There we met dear Mme. M , 
 
 whom we had promised to see safely to Colog*ne. 
 She is the mother of one of the greatest scholars 
 of our time, and the widow of one who would 
 certainly have been one of the greatest German 
 poets, had he not died at the age of thirty-three. 
 
 On the evening- of the 18th we arrived safely 
 and well at Brussels, and had a few hours time 
 before the train started for Cologne. So we set 
 out for a short stroll through the town by g-as- 
 hght. It looked just as I had thought it would 
 look, gay and lively. '^ A httle Paris," as it is 
 so often called. The " Galleries" reminded me 
 of the Palais Eo3-al, and the people that leisurely 
 walked about seemed as well dressed, and as much 
 ''^ on pleasure bent," as those of the Boulevards. 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 
 
 The shops where " knicknaoks" are sold look as 
 eleg-ant as those of Paris, and in others there is 
 the same delig-htful display of frnit and flowers, 
 delicacies, and confectionary. 
 
 I could, of course, not walk throug-h the streets 
 and market-place of Brussels without thinking* of 
 Egmont and Hoorn, and of the splendid scene in 
 Goethe's Eg'niont, where Kliirchen calls upon the 
 people to save her lover. I also remembered the 
 })oor sisters, Charlotte and Emily Bronte. My 
 husband thought of JVapoleon and Welling'ton, 
 and Beck}' Sharp, and laug-hed ag*ain at the 
 thoiig-ht of Jos Sedley's flig'ht from Brussels. 
 
 With an appetite stimulated by the walk, the 
 keen March air, and the very invitino- exhibition 
 of dainties in several shop-windows, we dined, and 
 then left for Colog*ne, where we arrived at five in 
 
 the mornino-j and parted from Mme. M , our 
 
 dear friend, for such she had become to us, we 
 feelino- rather anxious how she would o-et on with- 
 out US ; she full of gratitude for the little we had 
 been able to do for her, blessing* us many times, 
 and wishino* us a safe return to our children ; to 
 which I said " Amen," with all my heart. 
 
 As we had a i^.w hours to spare l)efore the 
 train started for.Coblentz, we went out to look at 
 (he Cathedral, which I had not seen for several 
 
 B ^ 
 
^ THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 years. I was pleased to see that the giant work 
 has advanced much in that comparatively short 
 time ; they told me it would be quite finished in 
 about six years^ but that I humbly doubt. 
 
 It was a wa'etchedly cold morning- j a sharp 
 easterly wind blowing-^ which after a nig-ht passed 
 in a railway carriag-e^ seemed to freeze me. It 
 chilled my love for the beautiful. I w^as not 
 very deeply impressed • not even by the interior 
 of the Cathedral, althougii I know it is wondrous 
 gTand and beautiful. 
 
 What a comfortable hotel, " The Giant/' at 
 Coblentz is ! And how we enjoyed our dinner at 
 the table d'hote, sitting* down to it like civilized 
 people after a thoroug-h toilette. As March is 
 not the time for Engiish tourists on the Hhine, we 
 had, instead of whispered Engiish conversation, 
 the loud talk of the Prussian officei's, who had 
 the table almost to themselves. They were most 
 of them fine looking* men, and had such a num- 
 ber of stars and crosses, and medals, that after 
 seeing* them I wondered that there should be still 
 some poor little Danes left alive. I thoug-ht that 
 these young* giants must have killed them all, 
 being* all so distinguished for valour, which many 
 of them were too young* to have proved even ag*ainst 
 the rebels in Baden in 1848. 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 5 
 
 After dinner we drove to Stolzenfels, and en- 
 joyed the view, m hich all who have seen it will 
 remember with pleasure. I had looked from 
 Stolzenfels upon Lahneck and Upper and Lower 
 Lahnstein, when the hills that rise behind were 
 covered with the glory of September foliag-e ; but 
 even without that gay dress, the scene is lovely 
 still. We drove back to the hotel in spirits that 
 were in harmony with the brig-ht scene around us 
 and the merr}' people that animated it. The in- 
 fluence of the fine continental air and the brio-lit 
 sunshine upon the spirits of those who have 
 breathed the thick air of London for a whole 3^ear, 
 with the exception perhaps of a few months at 
 Brig-hton, is wonderfully exhilarating*. All who 
 have experienced it must wish for the Continent 
 ag-ain and again, and will prefer to spend the 
 autumn abroad, althoug-h the Eng-lish lakes, AVales 
 and Scotland, of^er perhaps as much scenic beauty 
 as Germany or France. 
 
 On the morning- of the 20th we left Coblentz, and 
 went by rail to Mayence, passhig- the most beautiful 
 spots of the Rhine, enjoying- it much, and forming- 
 the resolution to buy one of the ruined castles, re- 
 store it and live for ever on the Rhine, with a boat 
 to row on the river and a g-uitar to accompau}' the 
 German ballads we would sino- on a sunnner even- 
 
6 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 ing-. At Ma3^ence we left the Khine. and turned 
 eastward across the Hessian plams towards Ba- 
 varia. The cold wind we had now to face made us 
 shut all the windows, and I must confess in spite of 
 m}^ belonging- to the Ladies' Sanitary Association, 
 and having- read Florence Nio'hting-ale"s book and 
 Combe's too, we shut also the ventilators, and un- 
 strapped all our shawls and wrappers. I looked 
 A\ istfully at the snow^ that had appeared on the 
 ground soon after we left Mayence, and which 
 g-rew thicker and thicker, g"littering* in the sun- 
 shine, like a cold beauty that smiles but does not 
 melt. The sky was perfectly cloudless, the sun 
 brilliant and warm, the wind cutting* and sharp ; 
 the shades deep and cold ; after sunset the window 
 panes became covered with frost, but not like in 
 Eng-land, where it spring's up in a very short time, 
 and afterwards disappears as quickly, and which 
 is of a poor tame pattern, always resembling* arti- 
 choke leaves. Here the cold worked slowly, de- 
 liberately and elaborately, like a careful artist : 
 each pane became a picture, showing- a variety 
 of beautiful and fanciful shapes and forms, flowers, 
 miniature forests, multitudes of stars, brilliants 
 and crystals. Gradually, it shut us completely 
 out from the world, and alter w^e had passed Nu- 
 remberg- and Erlangen, w^e heard and saw no 
 
VltOU J.OxNDON TO CRETE. 7 
 
 more of it, till we arrived at Passau, the Austrian 
 frontier, where people have to underg'o the ordeal 
 of the douane. 
 
 We arrived there at 2 o'clock in the mornino- 
 and had to extricate ourselves from shawls and 
 wrappers in order to be present at the examina- 
 tion of our luo^o-ao-e. On re-enterino" the carriaofe, 
 the o-uard told us that there were sixteen deo-rees 
 of frost,* after which information, I felt that I 
 had a rig-ht to shiver and to complain. The g'uard 
 himself wraj)ped up in an immense fur, wearing- 
 top-boots lined with fur, and a fur cap drawn over 
 his ears, looked provoking'ly cheerful and com- 
 fortable, and told me when he heard my g-rum- 
 bling- at the cold, that in spite of that it was much 
 better there than in Eng-land ^^^here, that he knew 
 for certain, the sun, even in the month of June, 
 was never visible befoi-e 9 o'clock in the morning", 
 for till then there was always fog* and mist. He 
 had been in London, but did not like it at all. The 
 coffee was horrible, although he suspected with 
 much acuteness, that it was partly the fault of the 
 milk. The tea was worse still, for the^^ gave no 
 rum with it, and tea without rum was little better 
 than hot water, and he concluded, " how can you 
 expect an Austrian to hve in a place where six 
 * 16" Reaumur equal to 36° of Fahreulicit. 
 
8 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 cig'ars cost a shilling- or more ? What are six 
 cio-ars a day for a man that hkes them ?" There 
 were but two thing's in London that had pleased 
 him^ the Crystal Palace and Mme. Tussaud's 
 Exhibition. The wax fio-ures of that celebrated 
 artist had made a deep impression upon him. We 
 found in Vienna the weather as cold and ung-enial 
 as on our journey 3 but feeling* that it would have 
 been a shame not to see something" of the town, 
 we walked and drove about, and were giad when 
 we had performed that troublesome duty. 
 
 Schonbrunnen alone, which awakens so many 
 recollections, aroused also some degTee of interest 
 in me. The pretty pictures painted by the Em- 
 peror Francis I., especially those he painted on 
 the fans of his wife Maria Theresa, the embroi- 
 dery of that g-reat woman, the drawing-s of her 
 unhappy and beautiful daug-hter, Maria Antoi- 
 nette, the family portraits of the Hapsburg-hs, 
 down to the present Empress and her sisters, the 
 room in which the Due de Eeichstadt died, his 
 portrait as a fair and beautiful boy ; all that in- 
 terested me much. The g-ardens and park sur- 
 rounding- this pretty summer residence were still 
 covered with snow, and the air was so cold that I 
 was g'lad to g-et back again to the hotel, where, 
 looking- in Continental fashion from the window 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 9 
 
 into the street, I spent some pleasant hours. 
 Tlie passers by althoug-h less eleg-ant in appear- 
 ance than in Paris, look more picturesque and 
 appear in a much g-reater variety of costume. All 
 the ladies wear larg-e fur capes and larg-e mufi's. 
 Many have also their little hats and bonnets 
 trimmed Avith fur, and the j'oung- g'irls trippiiig* 
 along' briskl}' , look decidedly prett}^ I liked also 
 the costume of the Hung*arian men. They wear 
 top-boots, short braided coats Hned and trimmed 
 with fur, and high fur caps. Many of the peasants 
 of the different provinces of Austria have also a 
 very picturesque appearance. 
 
 If the days, on account of the weather, were not 
 the most enjoyable, the evening's were all the 
 more so. We spent them in the theatre. Now 
 the Bui'g- Theatre of Vienna is old, ugly, and 
 dark j but perfectly comfortable, and the acting- 
 first-rate ; and to see first-rate acting- is a great 
 enjoyment. All the Viennese seem to think so 
 too, for the Theatre was filled m every part ] and 
 one evening the Imperial box was adorned by the 
 presence of the beautiful Empress of Austria. 
 Everybody who has visited the Exhibition of 18G2, 
 and who has not been there ? must recollect the 
 charming portrait of the Empress. She is quite 
 as beautiful, indeed even more so, for the i)ortrait 
 
10 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 showed onl}' the face, not her elegant command- 
 ing- figure, and graceful movements. There were 
 beside her in the box, the father of the Emperor, 
 the Archduchess Sophia, and Count Trani, brother 
 of the ex-King of Naples. 
 
 The journey from Vienna to Trieste must in 
 summer be very beautiful, but when we took it, 
 although it was alread}^ the 23rd of March, there 
 were 10 degrees of cold,* enough to chill anybody 
 that is neither a Russian nor Polar Bear. My hus- 
 band was much interested, and declared the rail- 
 road across the Alps one of the finest works of 
 modern engineering. The railwa}^ winds ziz-zag 
 up the mountain like the road over the Splugen, or 
 the Mont Cenis. But the wind was cutting and 
 cold ', the snow that fell incessantly penetrated even 
 through the closed windows. We had left Vienna 
 in the morning ; about six o'clock at night we 
 arrived at Semmering, which is the highest point. 
 Here the snow lay mountain deep. I had never 
 seen it in such masses. What a feelina* of solitude 
 and desolation, deep, far-extending snow gives 
 one. It covers the earth like a shroud. The sea in 
 winter with a leaden sky, is a lively cheerful 
 thing, compared to such a snowy desert. I saw 
 in the waning light, a man at some distance, 
 
 * 221 F. 
 
FROM LONDON TO CliETE. 11 
 
 })loddiiio- apparently with difficulty tliroug-h it. 
 How lost and desolate he seemed. . I was quite 
 g-lad when I discovered about two miles farther 
 on a house, from the chimney of which a thin 
 column of smoke arose, and which I thoug-ht was 
 probably the end of his journey ; where at all 
 events he would find shelter. Beyond Semmer- 
 ing', the road for many miles leads along" the top 
 of deep precipices, to look down which while 
 travelling in a train gives one anything but a 
 feeling of security. Wherever the road is not 
 protected from the North wind by the mountains, 
 there are strong high oaken paling's to shelter it, 
 for the Bora, a north-easterly g*ale, blows here 
 often with such violence, that unless protected by 
 the mountain or these palings, the whole train 
 might be easily overthrown and hurled down 
 some precipice. Near Adelsberg", where we ar- 
 rived about midnight, the train came suddenly to 
 a standstill j the snow being- so deep on the line, 
 that the eno'ine could not move on. Like a f^ood 
 horse, it seemed to try its utmost to pull us 
 through, but all its efiibrts resulted in some very 
 uncomfortable shakino-s it o-ave us while endea- 
 vouring" to push through the snow. 
 
 After about an hour's delay they had cleared 
 the line sufficiently for the train to move on, and 
 
12 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 in the moriiina* we arrived at Trieste. It is a 
 pretty modern town, in a charming- situation. 
 The villas which are scattered over the hills, that 
 rise behind the town, look very pretty and plea- 
 sant. ^^ Mira Mare," the property of Prince 
 Maximilian of Austria, Emperor of Mexico, is a 
 beautiful marine residence. The streets of Trieste 
 are paved as those of Florence, Naples, and Mes- 
 sina, with larg'e stones, like our London footpaths, 
 they present an animated appearance, for one sees 
 many different costumes. I remember, especially 
 that of the Mexican soldiers, of which there were 
 many in Trieste, and who, in their long* white 
 woollen cloaks, and broad-brimmed straw hats, are 
 wild and picturesque-looking* fellows. 
 
 All the day there blew a strong* north-easterly 
 wind, which the Triestines however, called a 
 Boretta, meaning" a little Bora ; but I must con- 
 fess that in spite of that, I looked rather suspi- 
 ciously at the many little white-headed waves of 
 the Adriatic, which looked just the kind to g'ive 
 one an incipient sea-sickness j considering* that we 
 were to embai-k the next afternoon for a five days' 
 sea voyag*e, and that possibly the Boretta mig-ht 
 become a Bora. This time however, I was 
 luckier than I had hoped. The sun rose the next 
 day in a cloudless sky, and when I looked out of 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 13 
 
 my window, the flag's on the masts of the ships, 
 l3'ino" in the harbour, waved g-ently, instead of 
 violently turning- and twisting- about as they had 
 done the day before ; and the sea was smooth and 
 sniilino- as " The Bride of the Doo-es" at Venice, 
 which I had seen, and remembered with delig'ht. 
 
 In high spirits therefore, we went on board 
 the Lloyd steamer " Neptune/' which was to take 
 us to Sira, I had but one bad foreboding-. We 
 had been told, that as it was so earl}' in the year, 
 we mig-ht chance to have the boat almost entirely 
 to ourselves. As I am of a sociable disposition, 
 I did not relish the idea of being- locked up in a 
 larg-e ship without travelling- companions. 
 
 How ag-reeably surprised was I therefore, to 
 find the deck absolutely crowded when we arrived, 
 and not bjr chance travellers, but by forty excur- 
 sionists to the Holy Land, w^ho wished to spend 
 the Easter w^eek at Jerusalem. I at once 
 anticipated an interesting- and sing'ular compan}^, 
 very different fi'om every-day tourists, and I was 
 not mistaken. I became more or less acquainted 
 with many of them, and they made the five days 
 of our voyage tog-ether pass very pleasantly. The 
 great majority of them were Germans from all 
 parts of the Fatherland • but there were also a 
 few Hmig-arians and Poles, four Americans, and 
 
14 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 one old Italian amongst them. They all belong-ed 
 to the 'Mords of creation," with the exception 
 of two who were of the g-entle sex^ that wears 
 crinoline. This mixed compan}^ I divided^ how- 
 ever, into two classes only • the devout and the 
 profane, viz. those that went, or said they went, 
 to the Holy Land from devotion, and those that 
 avowed they were g"oing- there from different 
 motives. 
 
 Of those belonging- to the first class, the old 
 
 Polish General, Count T , in consideration of 
 
 his hig-h position and g-reat ag-e, deserves to be 
 mentioned first. He was an old man of ?7, with 
 an enormous appetite, who said that he had not 
 tasted water he could remember when, and be- 
 lieved he would be ill if he ventured to drink 
 any. He had spent his life on horsebacl:, and 
 looked as hale and strono- as a youno- man. 
 His head was of a very pecuhar shape. A 
 phrenolog-ist would have said that in it the pro- 
 pensities preponderated larg-el}- over the senti- 
 ments. His white hair and lono- white mous- 
 tache could not make him look venerable. I was 
 g-lad when he told me that he was g'oing- to Jeru- 
 salem for devotion, for I felt sure he had plenty 
 of cause for repentance, he looked such a sensual 
 old sinner. 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 15 
 
 111 his manners he was pleasant and g'aUant^ and 
 his conversation A\'as not uninterestino-. He had 
 travelled inuch^ been eveiy where ; and seemed 
 especially to remember all the places famous for 
 beautiful women. There were two Catholic priests 
 among- the passengers. One a Cure from Gahcia, 
 a young man, with a thin bent figure, a sickly 
 voice, and spare fair hair* looking- altog-ether 
 more an object of pity than of interest ; the other 
 a young'j yet venerable looking* Dominican friar 
 with a beautiful face and fine oriental beard. I 
 was sorry that I understood neither Polish nor 
 Latin, the onty languages he spoke j for 1 think 
 he had many interesting things to tell. His con- 
 vent in AVarsaw had been lately abolished b}^ the 
 Russian Government, and the poor friars who 
 were suspected of ha^dng- Polish sympathies were 
 now wandering- beg-g-ars, so the Cure told me. 
 This one was, however, a very comfortable and 
 venerable looking- beggar, and seemed to be well 
 provided with more than friars are supposed to 
 require, viz. warm stockings and strong shoes and 
 a larg-e wide-a-wake hat. An old Italian sailor, 
 owner of some bai'o-es, which were now manao-ed 
 by his sons, was going- to the Holy Land, from 
 a beautiful sentiment of pure devotion and grati- 
 tude. He had been prosperous in his trade and 
 
16 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 fortunate in his famil3^ All his sons were doing- 
 well; all his daug-hters happily married. He had 
 lost his wife nian}^ years ag'o, but time and reli- 
 g'ion had soothed that sorrow. He was g"oing' to 
 Jerusalem now to offer there thanks to the Divine 
 Being- for the joys of a long* and honourable exist- 
 ence, to pray for the soul of his departed wife, and 
 for the salvation of all his children. He showed 
 me a letter from his young-est daug-hter, in whose 
 house the old man lived, and who had sent him 
 this letter to Trieste. It was badty spelt, but most 
 touching-. She called upon the Holy Virgin and 
 all the saints to take her dear father under their 
 kind and powerful protection and bring* him safely 
 back to his home, which seemed desolate without 
 him. The old sailor was of great use to me, he 
 knew, as he called it, ' every stone of the coast,' and 
 was always willing- and often able to tell me what 
 I wanted to know about the places we passed. 
 When we arrived at Corfii, he went on shore, but 
 not from any curiosity, the place was well known 
 to him, but in order to perform his devotions at 
 the silver shrine of St. Spiridion, the patron saint 
 of the island. At Sira, where there seemed to be 
 no particular saint, he did not leave the boat; it is 
 a new town, and in our times saints seem to haxe 
 become scarce. But if the old sailor seemed to be 
 
FROM LOIS BON TO CRETE. 17 
 
 intent upon nothing- but prnj'ing* to all the saints 
 on the road, a httle German master miller had 
 ap})arently undertaken this pilg-rimag-e in order 
 only to bu}'^ photog-raphs of all sizes and descrip- 
 tions at every place we stopped at. Not knowing" 
 an}^ other lan^uag'e but Viennese-German, he 
 must have had sometimes g-reat difficulty in 
 accomplishing- his object in places where people 
 understood onty Greek and Itahan. But where 
 there is a will there is a vva3^ He seemed to find 
 by instinct the places Avhere photog-raphs were to 
 be got, and succeeded in buying' some very nice 
 ones in Corfu, where I, not being- equally persever- 
 ing-, had failed in procuring- any. When we ar- 
 rived in Sira, the funn}' little man, as soon as he 
 reached the land by means of a boat that had 
 taken several of his companions ashore, left them 
 who were satisfied Avith seeing- in realit}' what he 
 wanted on cardboard. While they were g'oing- up 
 the hill, on which the Roman Catholic church 
 stands, and from whence there is a fine view over 
 the town, the harbour, and the sea, he remained 
 in the town in search of photog-raphs. This time, 
 however, he was destined to be disappointed j for, 
 althoug-h he found a place where they sold pho- 
 tographs, and where they showed him many, he 
 found they were views of every place and country 
 
 c 
 
18 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 in the world, especially of Paris and Vienna ; but 
 not of so common a place as Sira, which every one 
 there had always before his eyes. In looking- 
 over all the photog'raphs in search of those he 
 Avished, the time, must have passed more rapidly 
 than he was aware of, for he was not at the " em- 
 barcader" when his travelling- companions arrived 
 there, in order to return to the boat. The wind 
 that was fresh when they landed had much in- 
 creased, and the boatmen told them they had 
 better g-et on board the steamer as soon as pos- 
 sible, and after waiting- a little while, they did as 
 they w^ere advised, and left the poor little miller 
 behind. When he arrived at the place of embar- 
 cation, the Greeks somehow made him understand 
 that the others had left Sira, and that he must 
 take a boat for himself. By this time the wind 
 had become very strong-, and when we perceived 
 the boat that carried the little miller, the waves 
 were constantly breaking- over it, wetting- him to 
 the skin, and what was worst of all, spoiling- his 
 new beaver hat, which he had put on to g'o to 
 Sira in, for what reason is best known to himself. 
 When the two boatmen at last boarded the vessel, 
 the rapacious Greeks asked so exorbitant a price 
 for their trouble that the little German, although 
 in g-reat fear and longing- to g-et on board, would 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 19 
 
 not pay it, when the}' pushed off from the steamer 
 ag*ain, one thrusting* his hand in the terrified tra- 
 veller's pocket with the intention of paying- him- 
 self. At that moment one of the officers of the 
 steamer observed the danger he was in, and came 
 to his rescue by telling- the Greeks in an imperious 
 voice to put the poor man immediately on board. 
 The four young- Americans that belong-ed to 
 the party went to the Holy Land for the same 
 purpose as they had visited England, France and 
 Germany, viz. to see what the place was like. They 
 were four modest and courteous young- g-entle- 
 men ; and if their Christian names had not been 
 Lucius and Homer, and such like, and if they had 
 not called the Russians " E-ooshions" and Ame- 
 rica " Merico," I should not have " g-uessed" where 
 they came from. Homer was evident^ smitten 
 
 with Mdlle. S , one of the lady travellers ; and 
 
 always on the watch for an opportunity of offering" 
 her his opera g-lass or fetch a chair for her. The 
 
 worldliest of the worldly was Mr. St , a painter 
 
 from Diisseldorf, a young- man with a satirical 
 face and roguish disposition. He was as g'ood a 
 sailor as the Captain, and enjoyed his meals as if 
 he worked with a spade instead of a brusli and 
 pencil. He tried to flirt with the ladies, and drew 
 most charming' sketches of land and people. The 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 portraits of General T — and the little Jew doctor 
 of the ship, were wonderfully true and humorous. 
 He was always either drawing- or talking-, and 
 delig'hted in teasing* the poor cure, who g'enerally 
 ansAvered in a ofentle and becomino- manner. 
 
 Between the devotees and the worldlinofs, be- 
 longing' to both and yet to neither, uniting- in 
 himself all their g-ood qualities and apparently 
 
 free from their faults, stood Mr. H , a clergy- 
 
 nian from Coloo'ne. A man of most venerable 
 looks, hig'hly cultivated mind, and a warm pious 
 heart. With him I spent some of the pleasantest 
 hours of our journey to Smj^-na. He told me 
 that for thirty years a journey to the Holy 
 Land had been his wish by da}^, and his dream 
 by nig-ht. When at last it was to be realised, 
 his wife from mistaken kindness had much op- 
 posed it ; had used entreaties and tears to prevent 
 what she considered a dang-erous journey ; but 
 the wish had been all too strono-, she had been 
 oblig-ed to let him g'o. His face had a bright 
 look of happiness, softened by what seemed a 
 strong'er and deeper feeling- still — g-ratitude. And 
 that brig'ht look did not vanish, even when be- 
 tween Corfu and Sira, the sea became verj'roug-h, 
 and prostrated most of the compan}", that had 
 been so lively till then. When I asked him how 
 
FROM LONDON TO CllETE. 81 
 
 he was, he answered with a smile, " To be or not 
 to be, that is the question" ! When, as we neared 
 Sira, the sea became calmer, and that trouble- 
 some question was satisfactorily settled, I enjoyed 
 his conversation ag-ain. When he spoke, the land 
 and islands we passed, became peopled with g'ods 
 
 and heroes. He did not, like M. R , from 
 
 Paris, who came on board our boat at Sira, chill 
 m}^ heart by telling- me that there never was a 
 Homer ; that at the time when the song-s of the 
 Iliad and Od}- ssey originated, hundreds could sing- 
 in that st3de, as in the ITthcentmy almost every- 
 body in France could write a g'ood letter, while 
 in the 18th, nobody could. 
 
 Mr. H was no sceptic, and when I declared 
 
 myself in favour of Chio, as the birth-place of the 
 great bard, he said it was not impossible that 1 
 was rig'ht. 
 
 But I shall never g*et to Smyrna, if I describe 
 all my travelling- companions on the way, so I 
 must come to an end, not however before I have 
 said a few words of the two ladies. Mme. de 
 H , a Hungarian lad}', sister of the Arch- 
 bishop of Carthage, and formerly a g-overness to 
 some of the g-rand-children of Louis Philippe, 
 was a strons: minded woman. She had been a 
 widow these twenty years, but not having been 
 
22 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 very happy in her first union, had never yielded 
 ag-ain to a proposal of marriag-e, although many 
 had been made to her since. She said she was 
 very much shocked and grieved, that so many of 
 her companions should go to the Holy Land 
 from curiosity, or seeking amusement j but I must 
 confess that for a pilgrim to the Holy Land, she 
 was rather gaily dressed. The cap she used to 
 wear in the morning, when she appeared " en 
 negligee," especially surprised me, being trimmed 
 with (what my boys would have called) stunning 
 bright green ribbon. 
 
 She had travelled much, and seen a good deal 
 of the world and its life. She spoke indifferent 
 French with a loud voice, and had generally two 
 veils over her face to protect her complexion, 
 trying to remedy defective sight by looking' at 
 one through an eye-glass. 
 
 Friiulein S was a pretty girl of eighteen, 
 
 who went to Jerusalem " because Papa took her 
 there," and he went there, as he had gone to many 
 other places, for the simple love of change and 
 travelling. She was, as I said, pretty, wore a 
 neat becoming- travelling dress, and was of course 
 the centre of attraction to all the young men of 
 the party. But being engaged to be married 
 (this she told me in" private), and ap})arently of a 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 23 
 
 naturall}' modest and retirino- disposition, the 
 young- men found it difficult to approach her. She 
 stayed a g-reat deal in the ladies' saloon, writing- 
 long- letters, which I suppose went to Prag'ue, 
 where she was shortly g'oing' to live. 
 
 After a pleasant voyage of about forty-eight 
 hours, we arrived at the island of Corfu, which is 
 separated from the mainland by a small sheet of 
 water only, resembling a lake rather than the 
 sea ; for when one nears the town of Corfu, the 
 water seems entirely enclosed by land, and the 
 view is then most charming. On the left, the 
 rock}^ coast of Albania looks wild and picturesque ; 
 while the island to your rio-ht, covered by a luxu- 
 riant vegetation, has altogether a smiling and 
 cheerful aspect. 
 
 But how strange and new everj'thing appeared 
 to me when we arrived at Corfu, the country, the 
 town, the people. Fifty hours before I had been 
 amono" mountains of snow, in an almost Siberian 
 cold. Here, under a golden sun, palm trees were 
 growing, and roses and geraniums were in full 
 bloom. When we had gone on shore, we went 
 through dirt}-, narrow little streets, up to the 
 Spianata, a beautiful promenade, where the palace 
 stands in which the English Lord High Com- 
 missioner formerly resided. I was sorry to think 
 
24 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 that this beautiful land enjo3's no long-er the bless- 
 ino- of Eng'lish protection, under which it would 
 surely have prospered. It has not much chance 
 of doing' so now^ 
 
 Mr. H J from Colog^ne^ reminded me that 
 
 Corfu w^as old Scheria, where King- Alkinous 
 lived, whose beautiful, innocent daug-hter, Nau- 
 sikaa, the "lily-armed maiden/' had saved the 
 life of the noble sufferer Ulysses. 
 
 Before we had g-one on shore, about a hundred 
 Monteneg'rian labourers, g'oing* to Constantinople, 
 came on board our vessel ; their arrival, in about 
 ten boats, was the strang-est thing* I had ever 
 witnessed j the noise, the violent g-esticulations, 
 the scramble in g-ettin^ on board, was indes- 
 cribable, and quite frig'htened and perplexed me, 
 who had not 3^et become accustomed to such 
 manners. Some, finding" that they could not 
 approach the steps that led up to the deck, climbed 
 like cats up the side of the vessel ; and their lug-- 
 g'ag-e, consisting" of dirty bundles, was hurled 
 after them by their companions below. They 
 wore the Greek costume, which is becoming* and 
 picturesque, loose blue pantaloons instead of 
 trousers ; a white, or coloured shirt, and a red 
 fez for a head covering*. Feet and leg's were 
 bare, and over their shoulders hung* a shag'g*y 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 25 
 
 clonk, with a tliree-cornered capuch to it. Their 
 features were g'enerally g^ood ; the straight hue of 
 the Greek profile well defined in many. They 
 had lively eyes, and a profusion of dark curly 
 hair. 
 
 When, after a few hours stroll throug-h the 
 town, and on the Spianata, we returned to the 
 boat, I found that we had also an addition to our 
 saloon passeng-ers. They were all Greeks. One 
 of them was M. Brilas, who had just been called 
 to Athens to fill the office of Foreig-n Minister 
 there. His onty child, a fine, intelligent looking* 
 boy, accompanied him. A fortnight after, at the 
 festivities in commemoration of the Greek Revo- 
 lution, the boy had a sunstroke, and died. I 
 grieved for the poor father when I heard of it. 
 Mr. Conemenos, with his wife, also embarked at 
 Corfu. He is a Greek, in the diplomatic service 
 of the Ottoman Empire. Between myself and 
 his young wife, an amiable and accomplished lady, 
 an almost friendl}' relation soon sprang- up. I 
 was sorry to part from her at Sira, and promised 
 to go and see her when I got to Constantinople, 
 to which place she was now going- on a visit to 
 her parents. And there came another young 
 Greek on board, w hom I remember only because 
 he was very beautiful, and looked exactly as 
 
26 THEEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 Homer describes some of the ^^curly-headed 
 Achaians." He sat at meal-times next to Gene- 
 ral T , and nearly opposite me. The contrast 
 
 they formed was most striking*. It being- Lent, 
 the pale-faced young* Greek ate nothing- but a 
 little bread, and a few olives, while the old soldier, 
 with his florid complexion, swallowed at breakfast 
 alone, four eg-g-s, a quantity of g-arlick sausag-e, 
 and uncooked ham, besides fish and fowl^ potatoes 
 and rice. 
 
 The weather, which had been so fine on our 
 way to Corfu, did not continue so favourable. The 
 Sirocco blew fresh against us, and g-radually the 
 sea became very rough. The vessel rocked so 
 much, that I did not care to remain long on deck, 
 but retired early to my little cabin. 1 am a good 
 sailor, and therefore did not suffer, but I slept 
 little that night, being disturbed by the move- 
 ments of the ship, which near Cape Matapan 
 became lively in the extreme. How disappoint- 
 ino- it is in such a nio-ht to wake after a short 
 doze, thinking it must be near morning', and to 
 find that it is just eleven o'clock, then dozing 
 again, waking up with a start, and discovering 
 by the dim hght of the cabin lamp that it is not 
 yet one. And how glad one feels when the 
 morning dawns through the thick little pane of 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 27 
 
 fflnss, and the scriibbino^ of the deck is heard over- 
 liead. Now it is day j the terrors of the nio-ht 
 are passed^ fear vanishes Hke an uneasy dream. 
 And how refreshing* is the mornino- breeze on the 
 still wet deck, when the foaming- sea beg-ins to 
 look blue and clear ag-ain^ and the sun breaks 
 forth throug'h the clouds. The Montenegrians on 
 the foredeck, also seemed to enjoy the brig"ht 
 morning- after the roug'h nig-ht they had spent 
 there. They made an earty breakfast of brown 
 bread, curd-cheese, and g-arhck , and looked very 
 happy in their picturesque rag"S. A lad who 
 sat on a kind of mat, his leg's crossed, smoking* a 
 long* Turkish pipe, looked the imag*e of contem- 
 plative contentment. After another roug*h nig'ht 
 we arrived the next morning* in Sira, from whence 
 we intended to proceed to Crete. Unfortunately 
 there was no boat leaving* for that island for four 
 days, and thus the question arose what to do with 
 those days. Remaining* in Sira was out of the 
 question, for althoug-h, in a commercial point of 
 view, I am told that it is the most important 
 Greek town ; all that anybody can care to see of 
 Sira is seen from the harbom*. Perhaps I should 
 mention that from the top of the hill on which the 
 Roman Catholic Church stands, there is a fine 
 view over the town j the harbour, which is full of 
 
28 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 all kinds of vessels, and looks very animated^ and 
 the blue Ionian Sea. 
 
 But then the way up that little hill is very 
 steep, and the sunbeams strike down upon the 
 streets paved with slippery stones^ which makes 
 the going* up fatig-uing-, and the coming- down 
 difficult. Carriages cannot be used at all. The 
 houses of Sira are all painted white, or of some 
 very light colour, and look neat and clean, but 
 the country around wants entirely the charm of 
 veg-etation. There are about a dozen trees planted 
 round a little square in the town, which form the 
 only promenade of its inhabitants. I saw no 
 other tree or shrub anywhere on the hills around, 
 so that the inhabitants know only by the hig-her 
 or lower deg-ree of temperature whether it is sum- 
 mer or winter 5 nothing" else tells them of the 
 pleasant chang-es of the '^ circhng year." And 
 what is worse still, Sira has no fresh water. This 
 indispensable necessary of life, this g-reat element 
 of our existence, which I always thought belonged 
 to every man like the air he breathes, as his birth- 
 ris'ht, is brought to Sira from a distance and sold 
 like wine by the quart, and of different qualities ; 
 that fit for drinking being the dearest. 
 
 The town has no historical recollections, no 
 antiquities, no art treasures, ancient or modern j 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 29 
 
 nothing' but ships and warehouses, and stones, and 
 a burning- sun. We could not stop four days in 
 such a phice 5 that was evident. But where to go ? 
 
 We committed a grievous error in the way in 
 which we solved that question. Athens, with its 
 glorious remains of antiquity was, so to say, at 
 our door, being- but ten hours' journey from Sira. 
 But unfortunately there was at the same time a 
 boat leaving- for Smyrna, which would return in 
 time for us to catch the boat for Crete ; and so, 
 partly from a childish impatience to see an eastera 
 town, as if I had not been g'oing- to Crete and 
 Constantinople afterwards ; partly because I liked 
 to spend another day with the excursionists, we 
 went on board the " Germania ;" had forty-eig-ht 
 hours of rough sea (twenty-four each way) two 
 da^'s at Smyrna, with what enjoyment I shall 
 tell by and by, and lost the opportunity' of seeing 
 Athens, to which I could afterwards only pay a 
 flying visit of a few^ hours on my way fi*om Con- 
 stantinople to Messina. 
 
 The only point of interest on our journey to 
 Smyrna was Chio, where we arrived at daybreak, 
 and which, ilhimined b}' the rising sun, was a glo- 
 rious sio-ht. The hio-h mountains of the island 
 look bold and stern, but they slope down to gentle 
 hills covered with rich vegetation, and there, partly 
 
30 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 buried in woods of omiig-es and olives^ lies the 
 town. Ah ! beautiful, unhapjiy Chio, so cruelly 
 oppressed b}'^ the Turks, who fear the bold and 
 daring" spirit of its inhabitants, which has mani- 
 fested itself so often in rebellion, and for which 
 they have suffered so terribly. 
 
 From the consequences of the massacre in 1822, 
 when man}^ thousands were killed, sold as slaves, 
 or fled the country, it has not yet entirely reco- 
 vered. But seen from the steamboat, in the giory 
 of the morning" sun, it looked all smiling-, and 
 happy, and beautiful. As the men are renowned 
 for their bold daring* spirit, (an Ionian proverb saj^s 
 " A prudent Chiote is as rare as a g-reen horse ;") 
 so the women of Ohio are famous for their beauty 
 and sprig-htly g-race. Surely I thoug-ht Ohio must 
 be the birthplace of the g-reat bard, whose g-lorious 
 works still delig-ht the world, and are imperishable, 
 like the "everlasting- hills" that rise up there 
 throug-h the silver clouds into the blue sky. Here 
 he saw men of such bold and adventurous spirit as 
 those he describes so well, and women of such g'od- 
 like beaut}^, that he could describe the immortals 
 as if he had dwelt among- them j and a mortal 
 woman of such transcendent g-race and charm as 
 Helena. " May the cruel Turk be soon driven 
 away from thy smiling- shores," I prayed, when 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 31 
 
 our boat left the harbour of Ohio on our way to 
 Smyrna. 
 
 From Sira to Smyrna we had some new tra- 
 velling- companions, among* whom I must mention 
 
 M. R, and his wife, from Paris, on a journey 
 
 to the interior of Syria, where M. R was 
 
 g"oing" to complete the material for the continuation 
 of his work, the beginning* of which, published a 
 few years ag*o, created so much sensation and con- 
 troversy. Mme. de H the sister of the Arch- 
 bishop, looked at him with no friendl}' eyes, and 
 confided to me, that she feared with such a 
 man some misfortune would happen to the vessel j 
 and she cast suspicious looks at the sky, which at 
 that moment was overcast and threatenino-. I 
 thouo'ht of this ag-ain. when two months later I 
 was told at Naples the following* little stor}'. It is 
 well known that no people in the world are so fond 
 of saints as the Neapolitans. The^^ adore an endless 
 number of them, and have "tuttii Santi" always 
 
 on their lips. When M. R 's famous book 
 
 was first published, the Roman clerg*y (as other 
 clerg*y have done on another occasion) drew the at- 
 tention of the whole laity to it by preaching* vio- 
 lent sermons ag*ainst it. In Naples, as at some 
 other places, they also read masses and held pro- 
 cessions for the purpose of mitig*ating*,by such pious 
 
83 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 practices, the evil that book mig'ht create. A Neapo- 
 litan peasant woman, who had not understood much 
 of the sermon, besides the words procession and the 
 
 name of R , thought he must be some saint 
 
 whose name she had forg-otten, there were so many, 
 how could she remember them all ? So she put on 
 her ^^ vestito di festa" and lig-hted her candle, and 
 when asked for what purpose, innocently said that 
 
 it was in honour of St. E, ! I wonder which 
 
 would have amused the sceptical and learned pro- 
 fessor most, if I had told him of the superstitious fears 
 
 with which he had inspired Mme. de H , or of 
 
 his canonization by the Neapolitan peasant woman. 
 
 At Ohio some Turks came on board j the first 
 Mussulmans I had seen. One of them was a 
 venerable looking- old man, and as soon as he 
 came on board he spread out a piece of carpet, 
 took off his slippers and knelt down, his face 
 turned towards Mecca, his hands lifted up in 
 prayer. Another one, a young man, had a mon- 
 key and three bears with him. The monkey was 
 larg-e, the bears short, shag'gy thing-s. They 
 danced several times to his music, which consisted 
 of a monotonous noise, meant probably to be a 
 song", accompanied by the beating" of a tambourin. 
 The beasts danced with their usual g'race. 
 
 AVe arrived " saufs et sains " at Smyrna, and 
 
FROM LONDOIS TO CRETE. 33 
 
 the last few hours the joiirne}' was pleasant, for 
 we had entered the Gulf and felt no more the 
 movement of the sea. The colour of the water 
 had chano*ed from a deep blue to a brig'ht green, 
 and the vessel kept close to the southern shore of 
 the coast, which was ver3^ lovely, being- covered to 
 the very tops of the mountains with rich veg'eta- 
 tion of soft delicate colourino*. Two mountains, 
 called the " Two Brothers," had a sterner look, 
 having- bare rock}- crowns; but the "Three Sis- 
 ters," which are a little further on, were of a soft 
 and g'entle aspect. 
 
 The nearer we came to Sm3-rna the more ani- 
 mated became the Gulf with craft of different 
 kinds. The small Greek sailino* vessels havino* 
 spread their white sails before the fresh blowing' 
 '^ Levante," the Eastwind, g"lided swiftly over the 
 water, lookino- like some g-i^'antic sea-fowl raisins' 
 the waves with outspread w ing's. And then, at 
 the foot of g'reen mountains, in an emerald plain, 
 among' cypresses and olives, I beheld Smyrna, 
 "The Amiable," "The Crown of Ionia," "The 
 Pearl of the East." AVe landed ; a giant boat- 
 man took most of our lug-gag'e on his back, and 
 conducted us to the hotel. I had difficulty in 
 follo\Aino' the larere strides of the tall fellow, who 
 walked apparently with perfect ease, barefooted, 
 
 D 
 
34 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 over wretched pavement^ with a heavy load on 
 his back^ whilst I picked my way painfully over 
 heaps of rubbish, sharp pointed stones, open g-ut- 
 ters^ and holes in the pavement. I looked around 
 me and saw, to my utter astonishment, that what 
 had appeared a paradise, was a dirty, wretched 
 place, worse than I should imagine Whitechapel 
 to be. I was quite horrified when we entered 
 the hotel to think that we were going- to stay 
 in such a wretched place. And the room we 
 were shown into was not much better than the 
 appearance of the house had led us to expect. 
 Whitewashed walls, not over clean, a very dirty 
 piece of carpet, which I pushed with ni}' foot at 
 once into a corner of the room, and hard beds, a 
 ricketty wash-hand stand, a sofa, and one chair, 
 was all the furniture. As this was however, the 
 best hotel in Sm3a*na, and no other room to be 
 had, we were oblig'ed to consider this charming- 
 apartment our home for two days. 
 
 When we were ready to g'o out I asked the 
 Drag'oman, as interpreters or guides are called 
 here, to take us to some pretty street, when he 
 answered, with a polite bow, " Madam, the pretty 
 streets of Smyrna are hke this," and what was 
 this one like ? A narrow, wretched lane, paved 
 in such a way as to make walking- a penance. In 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 35 
 
 the middle of the street an open g-utter, full of 
 mud and abomination, heaps of rubbish, and 
 refuse, over which I had to climb, deep holes 
 which I must trv to avoid. The smaller streets 
 seemed to serve not onl}^ as thoroug-h fares but as 
 w orkshops and stables. In one that was but ten 
 steps from our hotel a cooper and his men were 
 at work all day, and close by, I noticed at 
 all times, a cow tied to a post, so I thoug-ht 
 she had no other stablino-. I wanted to see the 
 beautiful Greek women, of whom I had read in 
 Eotlien ; but it being* neither Sunday nor fete-day 
 they did not show themselves ; of the few I saw 
 none answered to the description of the author of 
 that clever book. But there were few women of 
 any kind visible. 
 
 In Corfu and Sira I had been struck with 
 the almost entire absence of women among* the 
 people in the streets ; in Smyrna I observed the 
 same thino-, althouo-h in a less deo'ree, owino- 
 no doubt, to the residence of a larg-e number of 
 Europeans. (The Greeks are not called Euro- 
 peans in Smyrna.) The private houses of the 
 upper classes, especially of the rich jf^rmenians, 
 looked very well indeed. The doors of most of 
 the houses being* open, one can look into them. 
 They appeared neat and clean. In their gardens 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 there were cypresses and orang-e trees^ and the 
 sweet smell of flowers. But we Western women, 
 althoug-h we love our home, do not like to be locked 
 up in it, be it ever so fair a house or g-arden. We 
 want to g-o about for pleasure and for health, but 
 to do that would be an impossibility in Smyrna. 
 
 Alas ! I thouo-ht if this is " the Pearl of the 
 East/' I have no wish to see the beads. It is very 
 old fashioned, I know, to find fault with any thing* 
 out of old Eng-land, and it is not '^bon ton" 
 to long" after the English flesh-pots, but I must be 
 honest, and therefore confess, that althoug-h I was 
 very willing" to be satisfied with the food, I sadly 
 long'ed after Eng-lish cleanliness and order. 
 
 One thing" I remember however, with pleasure, 
 that is the school for g'irls of the German dea- 
 conesses. It seems the abode of peace and piety, 
 but \A'ithout the restraint and superstition of 
 a convent. Sister Mima is an able and excellent 
 Directress, and the institution a blessing" to the 
 whole East. I went also and looked at the 
 new railway station, which seemed an ano- 
 maly in a country where riding" on horses and 
 camels seems the most natural means of loco- 
 motion. 
 
 I also enjoyed my meals at Smyrna, not that 
 they were particularly well cooked, but because we 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 37 
 
 partook of them in company with Mr. R and 
 
 liis wife. She is pleasing- and amiable ; he does 
 not seem either. But his conversation is decidedly 
 interesting". All he says secures attention. He 
 expresses his thoug'hts with g'reat precision. He 
 speaks almost as well as he writes, and that is 
 sa^ung- a g-reat deal. I was however, ver}' g'lad 
 when the time came for our boat to leave for Sira ; 
 althoug'h the weather was unftivourable and fore- 
 told a bad passag'e. The nig-ht was pitch dark 
 with alternate showers and hail storms: the Captain 
 told us that near Chio he was but thirty yards 
 from another vessel before the}' saw one another. 
 In Sira, the French steamer of the Messag'eries 
 Imperiales and several other smaller craft were 
 driven ashore, but A\ithout serious damag-e. If 
 the wind had not abated there might have been 
 dang-er. There were on board with us more than 
 two hundred poor Greeks, most of them beg'g'ars, 
 that went on a pilg-rimag-e to Tino near Sira, for 
 a g'reat fete of the Madonna there. 
 
 The Greeks are so anxious to g'o and adore the 
 miraculous Madonna there, that even the Turkish 
 Government took notice of it,and probably in order 
 to propitiate the g'ood will of the Greek subjects in 
 Crete, placed a frig-ate at the disposal of the mu- 
 nicipahty of Canea, which had thus the means of 
 
38 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 g"iving- a free passag-e to the many poor of the 
 island who wished to g-o to Tino. 
 
 Those from Smyrna that were in our boat 
 Avere all wretched and dirty-looking people. 
 Many of them were very ill, and had undertaken 
 this journey, hoping that the Madonna of Tino 
 would do for them what doctors had not done. 
 The cold pelting- rain of the stormy night did at 
 least for one poor creature what she thought of 
 asking the Madonna to perform — it ended all her 
 sufferings. 
 
 She was a woman of about thirty years of age 
 and paralyzed. The doctor on board the " Ger- 
 mania/' when he found how ill she was^ had tried 
 to bleed her ] but circulation had already ceased, 
 and she died about an hour before we reached 
 Sira. This caused some delay in our landing. 
 The Captain had to go on shore and inform the 
 sanitary officers that a death had occurred on 
 board. After some time, they took the dead body 
 ashore in order to have it inspected. I saw the 
 poor creature lying in the boat in which they had 
 placed her, propped up with pillows and carefully 
 covered, but her white face was visible, and the 
 breeze played Avith her dark tresses. 
 
 About an hour after a boat approached and the 
 cry of ^^ pratica," meaning here " intercourse/' 
 
FROM LONDON TO CRETE. 39 
 
 was heard from it j and we were now at liberty 
 to leave the " Gerniania" and g'o on shore. There 
 was the usual noise and bustle and confusion, 
 and quarrelling" and figditing-. We waited till it 
 had subsided, and then we went at once on board 
 the little boat called ^^ Shield/' which was to 
 leave the same afternoon for Crete. It looked 
 just like a common steamboat, only very small, 
 but it was an enchanted vessel, A\hich a kind 
 ftiii'V had sent to take me to fairy-land. There 
 w'as nobody on board besides ourselves, the cap- 
 tain, and the crew, and some people on the fore- 
 deck. I had not been long" on board, when I felt 
 very sleep3\ I thought it was because I had not 
 slept the night before, but I know better now. 
 That sleep came over me that I mig'ht not see 
 the way into fairy-land, ^^•hich people should only 
 enter when the fairies send for them. When I 
 awoke, after a long-, deep sleep, it was morning-^ 
 and I was in the enchanted island. 
 
40 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTEU II. 
 
 CRETE, OR THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 
 
 " Hier ruhn im Kranze 
 Vou Bliitli' und Fruclit, als Zwilling 
 
 Herbst und Fruliling, 
 Doch Idas Scheitel strahlt im Silberglanze." 
 
 . E. Geibel. 
 
 Is it not a dream, a delusion? Am I really in 
 Crete? Shall I not awake suddenly and find 
 myself at home, and hear the voices of my chil- 
 dren ? Those flower wildernesses, which people 
 call here " g-ardens/' those noble snow-covered 
 mountains, they belong" to fairy-land j and the 
 strang-e crowd of people, and the curious little 
 half clad black children that play on the sea- 
 shore yonder, are they real being-s of flesh and 
 blood, or phantoms that haunt the enchanted 
 island ? 
 
 Thus I felt when first I came to Crete. My 
 life here seemed so strange, so new, that it was 
 like a dream. But when I awoke to it morning" 
 after morning", then that brilliant sky, and the 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 41 
 
 flowers that grew beneatli it, the deep blue sea, 
 down upon which I had sometimes looked throug-h 
 the latticed windows of the Pasha's harem, the 
 pretty little Circassian slaves, and the ug-ly black 
 ones, in g-ay fantastic dress, that stood at the 
 open doors, the strang*e sounds of the Turkish 
 band playing* on the old walls of the city, and the 
 melancholy Greek song-s of Leila, the Pasha's 
 daug-hter — all became a realit}' that neither daz- 
 zled nor confused me an}" long-er. But they 
 were happy days, those daj's in Crete ; and when 
 I think of them, it is as if I felt ag"ain the fresh 
 breeze of the sea, and the balmy one that blows 
 from the south ; and wafts to us the smell of 
 orang-e-g-roves in blossom, and of all the roses that 
 bloom in the g-ardens of Crete, and I see the land 
 and the sea smilino- under the brig-ht sun of the 
 East. 
 
 There was no hotel of any kind on the island , 
 we had therefore, accepted the invitation of an 
 Italian g-entleman residing* there, who, when 
 apprized of our intention to visit Crete, had asked 
 us most pressing-ly to stay at his house in Canea, 
 the principal town. 
 
 He expected our arrival on the 3rd of April, 
 and came on board our steamboat as soon as it 
 had anchored in the harbour of Canea. 
 
42 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 There was no difficult}^ in identifying* us, we 
 were the onlj' first-chiss passeng-ers on board. 
 After exchang-ing" some kind words with Sig-nor 
 A — , and seeing* to our lug-g-ag-e, we stept into 
 the httle boat which had broug'ht him on board, 
 and crossed the harbour. How strano-e and new 
 a world it seemed in which I was ; the town, 
 the people, the sky, the sea, the very air I 
 breathed. 
 
 What is that larg-e white palace on the left side 
 of the harbour? I asked. "The Pasha's Serag'lio,"* 
 Sig. A — answered : " and do you see that part 
 of it which faces the sea, and where all the windows 
 are covered by thick lattice work, that is the 
 Harem." Not far from the Serag-lio I noticed a 
 row of larg-e vaults. Sig-. A— told me that they 
 had been built by the Venetians, who used to keep 
 their galHes in them. The fortress at the riMit 
 hand of the harbour was also built by them. So 
 were the fine strong city walls, on which I after- 
 w^ards noticed in several places the sig-n of the Lion 
 of St. Mark. We landed and wound our way 
 throug-h a crowd of strang-e looking- people. They 
 were Turks and Greeks in their national dresses, 
 
 * Seraglio means a palace. Harem means sacred, and is 
 that part of the Seraglio which is assigned to the women. 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 43 
 
 and Africans with not much dress of any kind. 
 The streets were decently clean, and would have 
 looked almost cheerful if there had not been a g-reat 
 numljer of larg'e dog-s, with a wild, hungT}", 
 wolf-like look, who were lying" everywhere on the 
 pavement. Most of the houses round the harbour 
 were coffee houses, the doors of which were wide 
 open. In these open places, and outside the doors 
 too, a g'reat number of Turks and Greeks were 
 sitting' and smoking' long" chiboucs and hookahs ; 
 I noticed but very few people that wore the Euro- 
 pean dress. A walk of about five minutes broug'ht 
 us to the house of Sig'. A — , a modest dwelling-, 
 althoug'h it was perhaps the best furnished private 
 house in Canea. But if the floors were bare, 
 they were faultlessly clean, and the plain bed 
 and window curtains, were of a dazlino* white- 
 ness. 
 
 Round the windows of my bedroom g-rew some 
 pretty creepers, and the sky that peeped throug'h 
 this green frame into my room was of a brilliancy 
 such as 1 had never seen before, and the air that 
 streamed throug'h the open window was so soft and 
 fresh at the same time, that but to breathe was an 
 enjoyment. Sig*. A — was, as I said before, an 
 Itahan by birth. Chance had broug-ht him, when 
 a young' naval officer, from St. Remo, near Genoa, 
 
44 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 to Crete, and fate had ordained that he should 
 fall in love with the dauo-hter of the Italian consul 
 there, who made him forg-et his home, which he 
 never saw ag'ain, for he g'ave up his profession and 
 settled at Crete. He had been a widower now, 
 poor man, for several years, his wife having" died 
 young*, leaving" him four little children and a 
 wretched portrait of herself, which some roving" 
 dauber had made, which he however held in liig"h 
 estimation, and could never look at without emotion. 
 Towards us he was the most amiable of hosts, and 
 showed his pleasure in entertaining" us in a kind 
 and hearty manner. We found it difficult to re- 
 .member under how many oblig"ations we were to 
 him, for he almost succeeded in persuading- us that 
 it was he who was beholden to us. His children 
 were kind, g"ood-natured and timid, and never 
 more pleased than when they could be of some 
 little service to me. The Genoese housekeeper, a 
 tall, masculine-looking", middle-aged woman, who 
 had a moustache many a 3'oung' ensig-n would have 
 coveted, did also what she could to make me com- 
 fortable, and appeared to feel over-rewarded for 
 all her trouble by my hstening- now and then to her 
 complaints ag"ainst Canea and its wooden houses, 
 the slovenly Greek servants, and the wicked Turks, 
 the lean butcher's meat, and the coarse flour 3 it 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 45 
 
 was an endless catalog-ne of complaints, interrupted 
 only b}^ her praises of her Genoa, which, throuo-h 
 the distance of time and space, appeared to her 
 even more beautiful than it is. There all the people 
 live in marble palaces, which have nothing- of wood 
 but the window frames and doors ; the ladies wear 
 only silk and velvet, and the larg-e beautiful 
 churches are covered with rich painting-s. But 
 if her ])raises were somewhat exag'g'erated, I must 
 own that her complaints were not wholly g-round- 
 less. The beef I found decidedly uneatable, as 
 they kill only cows which are too old to g'ive 
 milk, and oxen too old for work. The mutton 
 was of the very poorest qualit}', lamb and chicken 
 only just eatable, but very inferior to what we 
 are accustomed to. The people seem to eat a 
 great deal of salted sardines, caviare, olives, and 
 such like things. I did not care for them, and 
 lived principally upon eg-g-s, salad, and orang-es, 
 the latter of a size and flavour unknown in Eng*- 
 land. With Nicolo and Marico, the Greek servant 
 boy and maid, I could however find no fault. It 
 is true they wore no stockings, and I suppose 
 Marietta, the housekeeper, did not accuse them 
 without reason of having- but a ver}- shght feeling* 
 of the oblio'ation of tellhiii' the truth, but then 
 they were so nice looking*, their dress was so pic- 
 
46 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 turesque^ their manners so g-entle and winning", 
 that I could not help hking- them. 
 
 We were a fortnig'ht under the roof of kind 
 Sig". A — , with the exception of the few daj's we 
 spent on an excursion to Rettimo, and a pleasant, 
 never to be forg-otten time it was. I g-enerally 
 spent my morning-s alone most quietly and hap- 
 pily at the little table, near my open bedroom 
 window, reading" or writing-^ and sometimes for- 
 g'etting' both, and looking" dreamily into the 
 blue sky, or at the frag-rant flowers in the g-lass 
 befoi'e me. For there were never wanting" some 
 flowers from g"arden and field to sweeten my room. 
 The kind people with whom I lived finding" that I 
 was fond of flowers, supplied me abundantl}^ with 
 bouquets of such marvellous beauty, that to look 
 at them and to breathe their frao-rant odoui-s 
 g*ave me a livel}^ pleasure, even now the recol- 
 lection produces a g-entle emotion, like the re- 
 membrance of some happy childhood's Christ- 
 mas, or some moonlig'ht walk in spring" time, 
 ^'hen the heart has just learned what love is. 
 The wild flowers I g-athered myself, and that I 
 did so much astonished m^^ host and his famity. 
 They thoug-ht it decidedly eccentric to g'ather 
 wild flowers, put them into water, and look at 
 them with pleasure, as if they had been g-arden 
 roses or orang-e blossoms. 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 47 
 
 111 the afternoon we al\va3'S went out, either for 
 an excursion on mules or for a long- walk. I Avas 
 very fond of a stroll round the old fortifications of 
 the city, from which I could see the cheerful ani- 
 mated looking" town, with its eleg-ant minarets, and 
 the blue sea beyond it — the fruitful plain bordered 
 by the g-lorious chain of the Sphakistiki, meaning* 
 " white mountains/' whose snowy crowns shone 
 in the lig-ht of the declining day, and formed a 
 picture more beautiful than anything I had ever 
 seen or dreamt of. Here the Turkish band used 
 to play in the evening. They sometimes performed 
 European music, but their national marches and 
 the hymn to the Sultan they played with more 
 spirit and gusto, and the strange wild sounds 
 seemed also to me more in harmony with the scene 
 around. 
 
 The crowd of little black urchins that always 
 cono-reo-ated near the band also preferred the latter 
 music. They stared sulkily, or with indifference 
 at the performers when they played some of Bel- 
 lini's or Meyerbeer's compositions, but as soon as 
 they began some oriental tune the sulky look 
 changed into a broad grin, which showed their 
 white teeth ; and their legs, arms and heads began 
 to move about in a lively and droll manner. 
 
 They contrasted singularly with the graA-e and 
 
48 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 dig-nified look of the Turks that were sittino- or 
 standing- about^ smoking- cig-arettes^ or playing- me- 
 chanically with a string* of larg'e beads in their 
 hands. The Greeks that were present walked 
 about eng-ag-ed in conversation^ which the}'^ accom- 
 panied with expressive movements of the face and 
 lively g'esticulations. The Turkish soldiers also 
 assembled near^ being- called tog-ether by a flourish 
 of trumpets. Before they dispersed they bowed 
 several times low down, touched breast and fore- 
 head as if in salute, and shrieked out some bar- 
 barous word which means " Long- life to the 
 Sultan." Far apart^ on a g-reen slope^ sat the 
 Turkish women, with their children and black 
 slaves. These women^ wrapped in satin cloaks, 
 their heads and faces covered by their white veils, 
 the gaily dressed little children with their brig'ht 
 h-app}'' faces and dark sparkling- eyes, the black 
 female slaves in cotton dresses of the Turkish cut, 
 and most g"org-eous colours and patterns, produced 
 altogether a charming- picture. When we had 
 listened for a while to the music we usually took 
 a walk into the country. Our road led sometimes 
 through lanes formed by high cactus and aloe 
 hedges, or across corn fields where the corn (it was 
 the beg-inning- of April) was already beg-inning- to 
 ripen ; over g-reen meadows full of brilliant and 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 49 
 
 beautiful flowers, or throug-h cool oraug"o and 
 sombre olive groves, till we reached one of the 
 many and beautiful g-ardens for which the island 
 has been renowned in all ag-es.* Out of the snow- 
 white foam lying- on the breast of the azure waves 
 which kiss the shores of Cyprus, rose Aphrodite 
 the g"oddess of love and beauty, but Flora must 
 have been born in Crete, or whv should the 
 flowers that bloom in its g'ardens have more 
 brilliant hues and exhale sweeter odours than all 
 the other flowers of our beautiful earth. Yet 
 thus it is. I shall never foro-et the evenino- when 
 I first entered throuo-h a humble p-ate in a white- 
 washed wall, the g-arden of Sakhir Bey. Then 
 for the first time I knew why Eden was a g-arden, 
 no splendid palace, but a g-arden with the sweet 
 smell of flowers, with the shade of noble trees, 
 and the sound of murmurino- waters. Oh ! thouo-ht 
 I, that I mig-ht be allowed to dream my life away 
 here, that that g-ate would shut out for ever the 
 noisy bustling- world. 
 
 This g-arden was very different from our g-ardens 
 at home, nor was it the most beautiful of Crete, 
 
 * " Oranges, lemons, pomegranates, and all other fruits, 
 are produced in the greatest abundance, and sold at the 
 vilest prices. The gardens are rich and beautiful, and 
 adorned with many plants unknown in other countries." — 
 Ilistori/ of Candia, published in 1550. 
 
 E 
 
50 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 but it was the first I saw there, and it made the 
 deepest and most lastino- impression upon me. 
 
 Art has done little, Nature prodigiously much. 
 The flowers gTow so luxuriantly, that man's hand 
 cannot keep them in bounds. They g-row hig-h, 
 intertwine, and intermingie ; they stretch their 
 long" branches full of rich blossoms across the 
 paths ; they touch j^our shoulder and catch jonr 
 veil, but they are wonderfully sweet and lovely. 
 The scent of the orange blossoms and roses is 
 so strong", that it has a ph3^sical effect upon your 
 nerves, and gives you a feeling- of unspeakable 
 enjoyment and bliss. The son of Sakhir Bey, 
 the happy proprietor of this little Paradise, re- 
 ceived us most kindly. He was the first Turk 
 I ever spoke to. At the beg"inning- of our conver- 
 sation, carried on in French, I felt a little em- 
 barrassed, for I remembered that he belong-ed to a 
 nation that treats women as slaves, and seems 
 to despise them as such. He however soon 
 made me forg-et it, by his perfect politeness and 
 courtesy. He told one of his gardeners to bring- 
 us fruits of different kinds, some of which I had 
 not seen or tasted before, and when I left I carried 
 away with me a bouquet as large as my hand 
 would hold, and so sweet, that for da^'s after when 
 it stood in m}' room, I felt as if I were again in 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 61 
 
 Sakhir Bey's g'arden. I visited many other 
 g'ardens, I saw the beautiful " Pine-tree Garden" 
 ofllamet Bey, '^the o'arden of the Red Country" 
 belong-ing- to Meraet Bey? and the splendid one 
 of Pasha Mustapha^ but none that pleased me 
 more than the first. 
 
 Far, far from here, they still bloom in the sun, 
 and in the soft clear moonlig'ht, those g-ardens 
 of Crete ! That my foot ever trod their flower- 
 strewed paths, that my hand plucked their g-lorious 
 roses, seems now a dream. The stately Bey alone 
 walks them now, and at times when the g'ates 
 are firmly closed, some veiled woman with slow 
 measured steps, and dark burning- e^'es, followed 
 by some black slave, whose ug*ly features appear 
 the more repug'nant in that world of beauty. 
 
 The day after we arrived at Canea my hus- 
 band paid, as is customary in the East, a visit to 
 Ismael Pasha, w ho is Governor-General of Crete. 
 The history of this remarkable man is singular 
 and romantic. He was born at Chio, of Greek 
 parents, made a slave by the Turks \\hen a boy 
 of eleven years of ag*e, and sold to a Turkish 
 doctor in Constantinople, who taug-ht him what 
 little he himself knew of his profession, and em~ 
 ployed him as an assistant. When Ismael had 
 Gfrown to be a vouns" man, he showed so much 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 talent and ability^ that his master most justly 
 thoug-ht his young' assistant mig-ht^ if he received 
 an European educationj become a competitor of the 
 French, German, and Italian doctors in Con- 
 stantinople, who were more frequently consulted, 
 and better paid by the wealthy TurkS; than the 
 practitioners of their own nation. He therefore 
 sent the young- man to Paris, where he studied 
 for five years. When he returned to Constanti- 
 nople, he far surpassed his master's most sang-uine 
 expectations ; and his great ability and success 
 were soon g-enerally acknowledged, and he rose 
 in a short time to the dig-nity of physician to the 
 late Sultan • and afterwards, when it was seen 
 that his talents in other directions were equally 
 remarkable, he became the Governor of Provinces. 
 In Crete, where he has been for several years, he 
 is respected and loved by all well disposed people. 
 He encourages agriculture, makes roads, punishes 
 crime, and judges justly. Under his mild and 
 firm rule, the Greek inhabitants have almost be- 
 come reconciled to the hated dominion of the 
 Turks ; and have petitioned the Subhme Porte to 
 prolong his Pashalik. A few days after his visit, 
 my husband received an invitation to dine in the 
 Seraglio. The note of invitation ran as follows : 
 " Le Gouverneur General de Crete prie Monsieur 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 53 
 
 V. de lui faire I'honneur de venir diner chez lui 
 
 } 
 
 demain Jeiidi, vers le couclier da soleil. 
 
 " Serail, Mercredi." 
 
 I thoug-lit it quite a poetical and Oriental mode 
 of fixing- a dinner hour " vers le couclier du soleil ;" 
 as however the Turks count their hours differently 
 and in a way that is most puzzling- to a European, 
 this was perhaps the best way to prevent a mis- 
 take, for the sun sets at the same hour over the 
 faithful and over the infidels. The latter flatter- 
 ing" appellation is bestowed upon all who are not 
 Mussulmans. The evening* Mr. V. dined with 
 the Pasha was not a g-a}^ one for me. Being- 
 tired after a long- day's ride on a mule, I 
 sat down at my open window looking- at the 
 moon. She shines much brig-hter there than in 
 Eng-land^ but it seems she exercises the same in- 
 fluence there as here 5 I became quite melanchol}'' 
 and sentimental ; I long-ed for my children^ and 
 asked the moon to kiss them for me in their little 
 cribs in Eng-land. 
 
 The next morning- I paid my first visit to the 
 Pasha's Harem. My husband conducted me to 
 the entrance of the Serag'lio^ that leads into the 
 Harem, the part of the palace occupied by the 
 women, when an old grey-bearded Turk opened 
 the door from the outside with a larg-e key, and 
 
54 THREE MONTHS ABEO AD. 
 
 locked it ao-ain as soon as he had let me in. I 
 must confess I did not quite like the fashion in 
 which that stern old man with dag-g-ers and pistols 
 in his belt, had closed the outer world behind me, 
 and I cast '^ alono-ino- ling-ering- look behind" at 
 the strong-ly barred door. 
 
 I slowly crossed the yard towards another door 
 I saw before me ; and at which the old man had 
 pointed before he locked me in. It opened at my 
 approach, and I was met and saluted by several 
 women in the Turkish costume ; the first I saw 
 without veils, who led me up a wide staircase to 
 a landino' that resembled a laro-e saloon. At the 
 top of the stairs I was received by the Pasha, 
 who led me into a spacious apartment with divans 
 all around, but no other furniture. He left me 
 there alone, but returned almost immediatel}^, ac- 
 companied by two ladies, the one a young" and 
 pretty timid looking- g'irl, in a rich Turkish dress ; 
 the other a middle-ag'ed lady, in plain European 
 clothes, with a pale fiice, and two larg-e piercing- 
 black eyes, and who, after the Pasha had named 
 his daug'hter^ was introduced to me as Mdlle. 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 The windows of the Harem are hermetically 
 closed, allowing* no air and but little lig'ht to enter, 
 this is admitted throug-h the doors principally^ 
 
THE ENCHANTED I6LAND. 55 
 
 which lead into spacious halls or terrace s, over- 
 looking' the court-yard, or little inner g-ardens, 
 and are seldom closed. At the open door of the 
 apartment in which I was, appeared a crowd of 
 slaves^ most of them so young- as to be mere 
 children. Some were richly, all g'aily dressed 
 The prettiest of them was a little Circassian, of 
 about t^^'elve years of ag'e, the favourite of her 
 mistress, who was dressed in pink silk, and had a 
 wreath of artificial flowers in her hair. But I 
 have not spoken of the mistress yet. Althoug-h. 
 her father is a Greek by birth, the daug'hter was 
 of the Turkish t}'pe. She is short, and would be 
 considered too stout A^ith us, but has only the 
 ^^ en bon point" indispensable to a Turkish beaut}'. 
 Her round face wore an expression of kindness 
 and good humour, and was remarkable for a pair 
 of fine larg'e intellig*ent black eyes. Her dress 
 was entirely composed of g-reen silk, trimmed 
 with crimson velvet. On her head she wore a 
 little round black hat, evidentl}' an European im- 
 portation, for it was very much like those worn 
 in Eno'land : it had a fine white feather fastened 
 to it with a diamond ornament ', and a brooch with 
 the miniature of her father, in asetting- of diamonds 
 a Queen might have coveted, sparkled on hci- 
 breast. This splendid ornament had formerly 
 
56 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 contained the portrait of the late Sultan, who had 
 given it to the Pasha. 
 
 When Ismael Pasha had introduced me to the 
 ladies, he left us alone, and the first awkward 
 moments over, my visit became a very interest- 
 ing* one, Mdlle. Elizabeth addressed me in Eng-hsh, 
 which she had acquired at the American Missionary 
 School at Athens, and like most Greeks, possess- 
 ng" a g-reat talent for acquiring- lang-uag-es, she 
 spoke it well and fluentty. When however I 
 heard that Mdlle. Leila could understand and speak 
 a little French, I preferred speaking- to her with- 
 out the aid of an interpreter, and g-radually she 
 overcame her bash fulness, and entered into con- 
 versation with me. I had often been told, and it 
 is unfortunately to a g-reat extent but too true, 
 that Turkish women, even the wives and daug-hters 
 of Pashas, can neither read nor write. How 
 much was I therefore surprised and pleased, when 
 I found that Leila knew not only her own 
 lang-uag-e thoroug-hly, but Greek and French as 
 well. The Pasha, a most enlightened man, has 
 given to his daughter an education, which under 
 the difficulties with which he had to contend, is 
 truly wonderful. She had studied Turkish when 
 still a child, with the present Caimacam, or under 
 Pasha, of the town of Candia, a man of great 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 07 
 
 lenrniiio- 5 and Mdllp. Elizabeth, of whom I shall 
 speak more by and bye, had taiig'ht her Greek 
 and French. She possessed several books, among- 
 which I remarked a Bible in Turkish, and " Paul 
 et Virofiiiie." Mdlle. Elizabeth asked me if I 
 wished to hear Leihx sing- and play, as she was very 
 musical, and had had g-ood instructions at Con- 
 stantinople. Of course I said that I should be 
 delighted to hear her, and Ave then went into a 
 room where I found a g*ood piano from Vienna, 
 which was not much out of tune. Leili\ sat down 
 and played with a clear fine touch, a ver}^ g-ood 
 arrang-ement of " God save the Queen."' This 
 was a pretty compliment. She had played but a 
 few minutes when her father came in. He told 
 her to play a Turkish march, which she performed 
 with perfect execution. She played also a Mazurka 
 by Schulhoff, and one or two other pieces. At 
 last her father desired her to sing* some Greek 
 song's. Words and music were both perfectly 
 unintellig-ible to me, but sounded very melancholy ; 
 and that feeling- so took possession of me, that I 
 found it difficult to ])revent its being" observed. 
 There sang the poor little bird who, thoug'h the bars 
 of her cao'e were g'ilded, and her muster o-entle 
 and kind, was a prisoner for life. She will of 
 course, before long-, chang-e her master, and be 
 
58 THREE MONTHS ABllOAD. 
 
 married to a man, who let us hope "will love her, 
 but who will never bestow upon her more than a 
 trifling- part of his presence. 
 
 But at least she may hope to be his only wife, 
 as Mdlle. Ehzabeth told me that the Pasha will 
 not g-ive his precious little daug-hter but to a man 
 who will marry only one woman. The Pasha 
 himself has had but one wife, by whom he had 
 three children ; the eldest is the wife of Kadri 
 Bey, then comes Leil5, Hanum, and Foad Bey, a 
 fine boy of fourteen 3'ears of ag*e, the father's hope 
 and pride, who is receiving- an excellent education. 
 When Leila had finished, I warmly expressed 
 my dehg'ht and surprise to the father, who also 
 seemed much delig-hted. I daresay he had never 
 listened with more pleasure to Lelia's music than 
 when he saw it approved and admired by another. 
 Of how much pleasure and happiness this 
 abominable system of seclusion deprives these 
 people. We all know, that however much the 
 fortunate husband of a beautiful clever and virtuous 
 wife may love and admire her, his love and ad- 
 miration are ag-ain and ag-ain stimulated by seeing* 
 her inspire similar sentiments in others. He can- 
 not become indifferent to her charms, while he 
 witnesses the impression they make upon others. 
 But suppose this parag-on to be locked up, and 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 59 
 
 her Imsband never to see her except in a tete 
 a tete. She may be fimltlessly beautiful and ex- 
 quisitely dressed, he is accustomed to it, and it 
 strikes him no more. The wonderful intelliofence 
 of his firstborn^ the droll saying-s of his little one, 
 which every fother delig-hts in showing- off before 
 his astonished friends, all these and numberless 
 other joys, he must foreg'o. The life with his 
 fiimily loses all charm, it becomes — but no, I will 
 not describe what it becomes, for that is disg'ust- 
 .ing". The desire of the Turk to separate his wife 
 from the rest of the world, g'oes so far, that he 
 even dislikes to hear her mentioned. Mr. A — 
 our host, told me, that he once inquired of a hus- 
 band after the health of his wife, who was reported 
 to be very ill, when the Turk, who usually was a 
 })olite and amiable man, at once looked dark and 
 suspicious, while he answered with a scowl, "What 
 is my wife to you ? Do you know her, that you 
 ask after her ?" Leila seemed much pleased with 
 my visit, oifering- me three times refreshments, 
 consisting" of sweets, colFee, and sorbets, which 
 Turkish ladies do when they wish to honour their 
 visitors, and haA'ing- them served at long' intervals, 
 Avhich shows the desire on their part to prolong- 
 the visitor's stav. She asked me to come often, 
 to bring' my work or book, and stay as long- as it 
 
GO THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 pleased me. I visited her several times, because 
 I liked the lofty airy rooms, and to sit on the 
 broad divan under the window, and peep throug'h 
 the lattice-work down upon the boundless sea, that 
 eternal image of fetterless freedom, and see the 
 slaves g^lide past, or sip the coffee they offered me. 
 But thoug-h I had some book in my hand, I did 
 not read much, but like a regular Turk dreamt a 
 few hours away, thinking" of the fate of the poor 
 g-irls around me, and thanking* God that I was 
 born a free woman in a Christian country. There 
 were in this Harem none of the horrid male slaves 
 that disg'usted me so much in some Harems I 
 afterwards visited ; Ismael Pasha, a wise and 
 hig"h-minded man, does not suffer them in his 
 household. 
 
 And now I must not forg-et to sa}^ a few words 
 more about Mdlle. Elizabeth Konta Xaki, whose 
 acquaintance I made at my first visit to Leila, 
 for our intercourse did not end there. I saw her 
 several times afterwards, and she contributed much 
 to make my stay in Crete interesting and in- 
 structive, being- always ready to give any infor- 
 mation I wanted reg-arding" the country and its 
 inhabitants, and bein^ better fitted for it than 
 anybody else. 
 
 Mdlle. Elizabeth of Crete, for that is the name 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 61 
 
 by which she is g-enerally known, is a very re- 
 markable woman. She A\'as born in Crete, but 
 received her education in Athens^ and hves in an 
 Eastern Island with the manners and habits of 
 the West. She walks and travels about alone, 
 protected only by the respect all have for lier. 
 Her learnino- and extensive knowledg-e would 
 excite attention in any place in Europe ; it is 
 therefore but natural that in an island, where few 
 women can read or write, she is the wonder and 
 astonishment of all the inhabitants, and occupies 
 quite a disting'uished and influential position. 
 The rebellious Greek mountaineers, the terror of 
 the Turkish Government, respect her, and have 
 more than once consulted her, and listened to her 
 advice, for they know that she is a warm patriot, 
 while the Pasha seldom fails to ask her ojmiion 
 on the measures of reform he wishes to introduce, 
 as he knows how well she can judg-e of their im- 
 portance and utility, and that she is not hostile to 
 the Government of the Sultan. She has written 
 more than once to the Grand Vizier in Constanti- 
 nople, and her communications have always re- 
 ceived the attention they deserve. She has a 
 straio'htforward, fearless mode in statin^' her 
 opinions, which contrasts sing-ularly Avitli the 
 servile manner of her compatriots. She lives 
 
62 THEEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 alone witli her ag-ed mother, and a female servant, 
 in a little house, in a narrow street, but her room, 
 overlooking- a little g-arden, is larg-e and pleasant. 
 Over her writing table hang's a pleasing' portrait 
 of our Queen, which was g'iven to her by an 
 Eng'lish friend. Some interesting' antiquities in 
 marble and terra-cotta, found in Crete, ai-e the 
 only ornaments of the room. 
 
 Her larg-e book-case is well filled with books in 
 classic and modern lang-uag-es. I, who am not 
 at all learned, looked with awe and veneration at 
 the long' rows of Greek and Latin authors, which 
 evidently stood there not for ornament, but had 
 been often read and well used. To me she be- 
 came a most interesting' and valuable companion, 
 and I shall always remember, witli a feelino- of 
 interest and kindness, Mdlle. Elizabeth of Crete. 
 
 The first excursion we made was to Galata, a 
 Greek villag-e about two hours ride fiom Canea, 
 where M. Malatachi, a friend of our host Sio-. 
 A — , had a dehghtful country house. He had 
 taken a great liking- to us, for what reason I can- 
 not tell, for we could speak to each other by sig-ns 
 only, or through an interpreter, which is a tedious 
 way of carrying on a conversation. However, 
 he evidently liked us much, and pressed us to pay 
 him a visit in Galata. On the morning- fixed for 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 03 
 
 the excursion, M. Mtilatachi came with a long- 
 train of mules and servants to fetch us. IVIy mule 
 was a sj)lenclid white creature, with a scarlet 
 bridle, and a rich carpet spread over the wooden 
 Turkish saddle, I mounted it, feeling" very proud 
 and elated. One of M. Malatachi's handsomely 
 dressed Greek servants walked or ran, as the case 
 might be, b}" the side of my mule, so as to be at 
 my service if required- 
 
 I looked down upon him with the dig-nified air 
 of an Eastern Queen, fancying- myself very much 
 like one. My husband observed my look, and 
 broke out into a loud laug-h, which I considered 
 very mal a propos, and which rudely destroyed 
 the pretty illusion. He, as well as Sig\ A — 
 and his two eldest children, were all well mounted 5 
 and in hig-li spirits we set out. blessed climate 
 of Crete ! There was no need to fear rain or 
 cold, nor was the heat oppressive, but the air was 
 delightfully warm, g-enial, and balmy. The roads 
 were bad, of course they were. Where would 
 have been the fun if they had been like " Rotten 
 Row." 
 
 The Turkish saddle, in spite of its handsome 
 covering-, was not very comfortable j but who could 
 think of the saddle, whilst looking- at the g"lory of 
 the sky and earth, or mountain to]), and into the 
 flowering- valley. 
 
04 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 When we were about a mile out of the city, we 
 came to the mud huts where the poor lepers live. 
 These miserable creatures lay or crouched before 
 their doors, aud stretched their mutilated hands out 
 towards us, beg-o-ing- for alms. My husband threw 
 a few piasters among- them, but I turned my face 
 away, for they were frig-htful to look at. 
 
 The sad impression these poor wretches made 
 upon us however quickly vanished, like a mist 
 before that g'olden sunshine, which made all 
 nature around us at this moment look smilino- 
 and beautiful. Our way led throug-h cornfields 
 and vine3^ards, up steep hills, and down g-reen 
 valleys, across clear murmuring* brooks, and 
 throug-h an olive gTove, where the trees were very 
 old and larg-e. Four men could not have encircled 
 with extended arms, some of their old hollow 
 curiously twisted trunks. 
 
 When we reached Galata, the little children in 
 the streets called their parents, who rushed to the 
 doors and windows to see us. The Turks are not 
 at all curious, or if so, they hide their curiosity 
 most carefully, for they never seem to look at a 
 stranger. The Greeks, on the contrar}-, have 
 much curiosity, and show it with the greatest 
 naivete, following- you about, and examinhig- all 
 you have and do. " You are at the house of ^^our 
 slave," said M. Malatachi bowing*, and putting* 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 65 
 
 his ri^ht hand on his breast, when we had dis- 
 mounted and entered his house in Galata. It is 
 delig'htfull}^ situated. The view fi*om the larg-e stone 
 balcony, over hills and valleys, on to mountains 
 and the sea, with the little island St. Theodore, is 
 indescribable. I spent a dehg-htful hour there 
 quietly by myself. Not being able to speak the 
 lang'uag'e of the countr}'-, may occasionally prove 
 an advantag'e. Our interpreter being* eng-aged with 
 a lono- conversation on the value of land and the 
 produce of the country, between M. Malatachi 
 and my husband, I could not talk with our hostess, 
 who seemed a kind, but very timid lady. She 
 interrupted my musing-s only by sending* me a 
 continued round of sweetmeats, coffee, sorbets, 
 and lemonades. Then came the dinner ; " What 
 is mine is yours," said our Greek host, when we 
 sat down to dine. For so primitive a country 
 as Crete, it was a sumptuous repast, of which 
 however, neither host nor hostess partook. It being* 
 Lent, their dinner consisted of veg'etables, olives, 
 &c. ; but they looked very well satisfied with 
 their frug-al meal, and seemed pleased to see us 
 enjoy the g'ood thing-s they had provided, and if 
 they could not eat with us, they drank our health 
 more than once, a compliment which we of course 
 returned. 
 
66 THREE MONTHS ABROAB. 
 
 We left Galata towards five o'clock in the 
 afternoon. A boy ran in front of our cavalcade^ 
 carrying- a splendid bouquet M. Malatachi had 
 given me, and escorted us back to the very door 
 of Sig. A — 's house. " Your visit has been Hke a 
 refreshing- evening- breeze after a sultry day/' said 
 M. M. when he took leave of us. This poetical 
 way of speaking-, which is a common mode of ex- 
 pression in the East, there sounds natural and 
 pretty ; I felt however to the last rather puzzled 
 how to reply to those hig'h-flown compliments* 
 The people there have another peculiarity which 
 pleased me still more. Whenever for instance I 
 mentioned my children, they would say, " May 
 the g-reat God protect them." '^ A long- hfe to 
 them all." " A happy return to them," or some- 
 thing' like it. 
 
 We also spent a delig-htful day with Sig". A — 
 and M. Malatachi at Plantagna, so called on ac- 
 count of the noble old plane trees that grow there, 
 round each of which a g'ig-antic vine grows, cover- 
 ing stem and branches. A fine clear mountain 
 stream, of which this favoured island has many, 
 flows through the valle}^, and near its banks, under 
 the finest of all the noble trees that shed their shade 
 over the flowery grass, we halted. It was the 
 same tree under which Mehemet Ali, the famous 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 67 
 
 Pasha of Eg-ypt, had once dined and rested, when 
 he had come to Crete to chastise the rebelHous 
 Greeks. We spread our carpet, dined and 
 rested, walked about and rested again, till the 
 declinino' sun reminded us that it was time to 
 think of our return to town. We had g"one by 
 an easy road along- the sea shore ; we returned 
 by one that lay inland, and very different from 
 the first. It was a reg-ular Crete road, a stony 
 path, up and down steep hills, throug-h brooks 
 and across shaky bridg-es. We had not calcu- 
 lated that we should not be able to ride so quickly 
 on this road as we had done on the other j so it 
 happened that the sun set when we were still at 
 least an hour and a half s ride from the g*ates of 
 Canea, and they are always shut an hour after sun- 
 set. We made our tired mules step out as fast as 
 the roads would allow, but it was a hopeless case, 
 we could not have arrived in time. Sig'. A — 
 who knew my g-reat horror of the very ug-ly and 
 dirty black people, " Arabs" as they are called 
 there, who live in mud huts and dirty tents outside 
 the town, proposed that we should ask them to 
 take us in, whereupon I declared with great energ-y 
 and decision, that for my part I should prefer to 
 spend the nig'ht with the prett}' little white lambs 
 on the hill side, whose bells were heard tinkhng- in 
 
 f2 
 
68 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 the stillness of the night, rather than with those 
 ug-ly black sheep. Sig*. A — therefore promised 
 that I should be driven to neither extremity, but 
 sleep comfortably in my own bed. All the incon- 
 venience resulting from our being* too late would 
 be that we should have to wait at the g"ate of the 
 town till one of the soldiers had fetched the keys 
 from the Pasha's palace, where they are kept after 
 the g*ate is shut. But we were spared even this 
 trifling- inconvenience. That is the advantag-e of 
 living- in a place like Canea where M. Malatachi, 
 who is a judge, Sig. A — , and we, two distin- 
 guished foreigners, were of great importance. 
 
 The guard of the gate knew that we left Canea 
 in the morning, and had not j^et returned, so 
 they kept the keys for half an hour, and we 
 entered without delay. What a difference to living 
 in London, where like a drop of water in the 
 sea, the individual is undistinguished, lost in the 
 immensity. 
 
 The longest and most interesting of our excur- 
 sions was the one to Rettimo, which is two da3's' 
 journey from Canea. Unfortunately the weather, 
 which had been faultless all the week, changed the 
 day before we intended to start. The blue sky 
 became overcast, and a strong tramontane, as the 
 north wind is there called, was blowing. As how- 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 60 
 
 ever it did not rain^we started on Saturday, in lio})es 
 of a chang'e for the better, as people said a strong* 
 tramontane was a very unusual thing* in April, and 
 occurred only in December or January, and could 
 not therefore last. 
 
 The Pasha had g-iven us his Capo Cavalliero, 
 which means the head of his g"uards, as an escort, 
 which he does when he wishes to honour the visi- 
 tors of Crete. He was, as became so g-reat a 
 personag-e, a very imposing- looking* man, and had 
 so many splendid pistols, dag-gers and knives in 
 his scarf, that he looked as if he alone could have 
 killed a whole reg"iment of brig-ands. Besides, the 
 Pasha had kindly sent us one of his black servants, 
 who, he told us^ understood a little French, having* 
 been in the service of Prince Napoleon during* the 
 Crimean war. If the Pasha had said that Sali 
 could sjieak a little French he would have been 
 more correct, for he did talk French a httle ; but 
 was it that I did not speak with a pure Parisian 
 accent, like Prince Napoleon, or like a governess 
 that has been six months abroad j certain it is, he 
 never understood what I said to him, and gave the 
 most extraordinary answers to some of the ver}'- 
 simple questions I put to him. But, as with Mrs. 
 Blimber, of whom Mi*. Dickens says that she was 
 not learned, but that she pretended to be so, and 
 
70 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 that did quite as well, so with Sali ; he pretended 
 to understand Frenchj and that was quite enoug-h. 
 We g"ot every thing* we wanted, and more than we 
 wanted ; and if I wished to know the name of 
 some place we passed, by pointing- at it with my 
 hand the intellig"ent Greek muleteer that was walk- 
 ing" by the side of my mule knew at once what I 
 wanted, and told me. However Sali was useful 
 in his way ; he rode behind us, looked picturesque, 
 and g-ave to our cavalcade a more imposing- and, 
 eastern look. The Capo of course led the party. 
 He rode a little beauty of a horse. Close behind 
 him followed my husband on a mule, I came next, 
 also on a mule ; Arif, another guard the Pasha 
 had sent, rode behind me. He carried, besides his 
 pistols, &c.,an immense long- g-un over his shoulder, 
 of which I was rather afraid, knowing- that it was 
 loaded ; for he prepared once or twice to shoot some 
 bird with it. However, he did not shoot me nor any 
 bird, or robber either, none of the last coming- within 
 ran^e. Then followed the mules with our lug-g-ag-e 
 and provisions, and Sali concluded the train. 
 But cruelly cruel one g-ets in the East. One can- 
 not keep on being- sorry that a poor man runs by 
 your side, while you sit comfortably on your mule, 
 which, as a matter of course, takes the onlynarroAv 
 little bit of road, while the man iumps over stones 
 
THE E]NCHANTED ISLAND. 71 
 
 tind throug-h thorns. For four miles, between 
 Canea and Suda, the road was comparative^ 
 s])eaking" g-ood 5 it has lately been repaired, because 
 the Sultan has declared his intention to visit Crete 
 ere long-, and he will land at Suda, which has the 
 best port in the island, and the only safe one in 
 roug-h weather ; but after passing- Suda we came 
 to the mountains, and then beg'an the Stradaccie, 
 as our host Sig*. A — had most properly called 
 them. Our mules however did wonders, picking- 
 their way throug-h the stones, walking* up and 
 down steep steps in the rock, in a marvellous 
 manner. Had I, after having- travelled for a little 
 while in this way, been told that we should g-o 
 up some perpendicular wall, I should have be- 
 lieved it. If our way was strewn with stones 
 instead of flowers, they at least g-rew in perfection 
 on each side. Wild roses, of sing'ular brig-ht 
 colours, and many other strang-e and beautiful 
 flowers, which I do not mention, for the simple 
 reason that I do not know their names ; and 
 shrubs and trees as strang-e and new to me. I 
 only recognized here and there a familiar face, 
 as g'orse, rhododendrons, and wild fig--trees. 
 Amono* the flowers there were more old friends, 
 buttercups and daisies, dandelions and wild thyme, 
 which used at home to tell that spring- time had 
 
72 THKEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 come. The stones and rocks were also strang'e 
 and curious. What they were I do not say, for 
 the very same reason that I did not tell the names 
 of all the flowers. Ah, whoever wants useful in- 
 formation about Crete must §"0 there himself, or 
 send somebody else. I can describe but little of 
 what I saw, althoug-h my eyes were wide open, 
 and my heart had unlocked all its chambers, and 
 rejoiced that " this beauteous world is made so 
 brig-ht." I should however have liked to press 
 many of the flowers, only my supply of blotting- 
 paper was limited. Not being- of a botanical turn 
 of mind, I had not broug-ht any for that purpose 
 with me, and could not supply the want, as there 
 was none to be g-ot on the island. After three 
 hours' ride we arrived at Armenos, a hamlet, where 
 we halted, and SaH and Arif unpacked some of 
 our provisions. I never enjoyed a lunch more. It 
 consisted of cold chicken, hard boiled eg-g-s, 
 orang-es, and Turkish coffee, and we partook of 
 it in the shade of a splendid plane tree, on the 
 borders of a clear murmuring- stream. On leaving- 
 Armenos, the country became wilder, and the 
 roads even worse than they had been ; an ascent 
 of about half an hour, the whole country 
 around was strewed with fi-ag-ments of rocks. 
 It would have looked terribly wild and desolate^ 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 73 
 
 had not the wild flowers and plants covered 
 and hidden a g-reat deal. As it was, it reminded 
 me of the Turkish cemetery at Canea, the pieces 
 of rock resembling- the g'ravestones, which tumble 
 and lie about there in all directions. But if 
 the going" up was difficult, the g'oing- down was a 
 gi-eat deal more so. We came at last to a point 
 where we had to dismount and clamber down for 
 about half an hour, for the road was very steep, 
 and turned and twisted about at sharp ang-les. 
 However, about three hours after we had left 
 Armenos, we arrived safely at Xopoh, where we 
 intended to spend the nig'ht. 
 
 Xopoli, a Greek village, is the most desolate place 
 I ever saw. It gives one the impression of one 
 g'reat ruin. Having* been built entirely of stone, 
 it has not the mean wretched look of a Turkish 
 villag-e, but partakes rather of the melancholy 
 grandeur of a ruined castle. To judg-e from the 
 I'emains, it must once have been a large place, 
 and was like so many others destroyed by the 
 Turks, after they had butchered the Greek in- 
 habitants. A few of the very poorest of this once 
 glorious race still find shelter in these ruins. I 
 noticed here and there a door or a shutter, and 
 a thin column of smoke rising from some 
 chimney. But when we rode, and afterwards 
 
,74 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 walked throug-h the village, we hardly met a 
 creature. 
 
 But thanks to the g-reat kindness and civility of 
 the Pasha, who had the da}^ before sent a mes- 
 seng-er there, we found a shelter prepared for us, 
 and althoug-h a most sing-ular kind of a lodg-ing*, 
 I did not wish it different. The house in which we 
 were g'oing* to spend the nig-ht was the only one 
 that had preserved a second story, standing* also on 
 the hig"hest spot of the villag'e, it rose like a tower 
 above the others. Stone steps led on the out- 
 side of the house up to a little stone landing*, and 
 from thence into a kind of loft. Two mattresses, 
 and a few pillows, covered with clean white linen, 
 had been laid on the g*round, they represented the 
 beds, the chairs, the sofas, the tables, and every 
 thing* else. There was however, hang-ing in a 
 larg-e old fire-place, a little brass lamp, of an 
 antique shape, intended to lig*ht our apartment, 
 if the moon should refuse to do so ; which seemed 
 likely, as the sky continued to look threaten- 
 ing*, and the wind was hig*h. But if there was 
 not much to be seen in the room, the look out 
 was splendid. Throug-h the little open door we 
 could see the hills and mountains, on which lig-ht 
 and shade constantly chang*ed with the passing 
 clouds. Through the solitary little window which 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 75 
 
 had a shutter, but no panes of g'lass, never havnig- 
 been able to boast of such unnecessary finery, we 
 overlooked a deep valley stretching- northward as 
 far as the sea, which we saw at a distance- Our 
 host, althoug'h a Turk, showed us every possible 
 attention ; if only in consequence of the Pasha's 
 orders, or because he did not absolutely hate all 
 Christians, I cannot tell, for I could not talk to 
 him. "We dined at twelve o'clock Turkish time,* 
 which, as we were in the middle of April, is about 
 half-})ast six o'clock, and our room being* rather 
 dark, we had a carpet spread on the little stone 
 hmding- outside the door, and took our meal there. 
 I call the landing- little, for it was only four feet 
 square, without any kind of railing- round it, and 
 there we sat perched up hig-h 5 hi^h, for the hill on 
 which the house stands slopes rapidl}' down in front 
 of it. But a o-lorious dinino: room it was. At 
 our feet, a valley full of cornfields and olive woods, 
 beyond it, noble mountains rising- into the clouds ; 
 yea, here and there lifting- their venerable snow- 
 covered heads, g-lowing* in the evening- lig'ht, above 
 them ; and in the distance to our left the rollino- 
 sea. We sat there a long- time after our simple 
 meal was over, and watched the effect of shades 
 
 * The Turks count their hours from sunset, which is always 
 12 o'clock ; when the next day begins. 
 
76 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 and moonshine on the landscape, and the stars 
 that shone forth as the clouds swept away. It 
 was very still all around us. 1 heard no sound 
 but that of some hidden brook flowing* over stones 
 and pebbles ; but now and then the wind sig'hed 
 past us, and made the olive trees murmur. 
 
 All at once I heard a sound that seemed strang-e 
 and yet familar. It was the song* of the cuckoo 
 of Crete. It resembles the call of our cuckoo, in 
 so far as it also consists of two notes ; but they 
 are not the same notes, and he rests long-er on 
 the last than our cuckoo does. He sang" a long- 
 time, I heard him still in my sleep. Of other 
 birds of any kind I heard or saw little on my 
 excursions throug-h Crete. A few larg-e black 
 creatures, which I took for ravens, a flock of what 
 seemed a kind of pigeon, swallows, and sparrows, 
 who there as here made as much noise as they 
 could ; but I heard no sound that resembled the 
 song- of the lark, the thrush, the blackbird, or the 
 nig-hting-ale. Altog-ether the island seemed to 
 me poor as reg-ards animal life. Horses and 
 mules are very beautiful in form, but extremely 
 small ; so are the cows and oxen, which are not 
 larg-er than a fine donkey is with us. The sheep and 
 g-oats are also quite diminutive creatures. The little 
 lambs are lovely, but when they g-et a few months 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 77 
 
 old, they look very lean and miserable. After 
 a nio'ht which had not been very refreshing-, for 
 I was not quite accustomed yet to that kind of 
 nig'ht accommodation, we set out early in the 
 morning' for our second day's expedition. 
 
 Our way led us throug-h the valley I had looked 
 down into from our castle tower at Xopoli, to- 
 wards the sea-shore. When we had reached it, 
 my g'uide jumped up on the horse behind Sali, and 
 the party put itself into a canter, which with little 
 intervals lasted two hours j we only fell into a 
 walk when sometimes the shore became very 
 shing'l}', or when the sand was very soft and wet, 
 which the mules particularly disliked. They 
 seemed never to mind how steep, or stony, a road 
 was, but on damp and muddy places they looked 
 with g'reat suspicion, and could only be coaxed or 
 driven across. After two hours sharp riding" we 
 came to a little river that flows into the sea. 
 Mustapha led us to a point where we could cross, 
 and then under the broken arch of a ruined bridg'e 
 we halted and breakfasted with a hearty appetite. 
 What however somewhat disturbed our enjoyment 
 of the meal was, that Sali told us, now would beg-in 
 the bad roads. After what we had g-one throug-h, 
 to be told that the bad roads were but coming-, 
 was rather hard. However, as like to Kiisnach 
 
78 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 "there led no other road" to Rettimo, we set 
 out for it, when we had rested ourselves. And 
 the reality was far worse than my g-loomiest 
 anticipations had pictured. As 1 had never 
 thoug'ht of trying- a ride on the top of Milan 
 Cathedral, I could have formed no idea of the road 
 from Petres (our halting* place) to Rettimo. Like 
 the top of that famous building", we were in a 
 forest of stone. The sea, the rain, the air, had 
 worked almost as elaborately as the mason and 
 sculptor. And throug-h this forest of stone and 
 rock, up steep mountains and down ag-ain, some- 
 times hig-h above the sea, then ag-ain so near to it 
 that the spray wetted the feet of our mules, we had 
 to pick our way for two hours. To make matters 
 worse still, a heavy shower came on, and in order 
 to protect ourselves a little ag"ainst it, we had to 
 turn our backs to it, and halt till it passed over. 
 Happily the hig-h wind prevented the shower 
 from continuing', so after a little while we were 
 able to proceed on our journey. My husband, 
 who had put on his waterproof, and tied a hand- 
 kerchief round his ears, over his battered wide- 
 a-wake, to prevent its being- blown away, looked 
 anything' but dig-nified, which however, under the 
 circumstances, was of small consequence. 
 
 Our g-uides, on the contrary, pulling- the capuch 
 
THE ENCHANTEB ISLAND. 7d 
 
 of their cloaks over their heads, looked if any- 
 thing* more picturesque and imposing-. The worst 
 part of the road lasted about two hours. That 
 seems a short time, not worth mentioning-, but 
 any one who for instance has crossed the Channel 
 in very roug-h weather, and been wretchedly sick 
 all the time, will know that t\\ o hours may seem 
 ver}' long". However, our mules carried us safely 
 along-, and by and bye the road, although still 
 very bad, was on comparatively level g-round, 
 which made it much less trying-. For the last 
 mile or so the road was g'ood, and thus we reached 
 Rettimo. It lies on a promontory, which ends in 
 a cUfF. on which a fortress is built that looks strono- 
 and foreboding'. There are no g-ardens here like 
 in Canea, the shrubs and trees here and there 
 are stunted, and gTow in a horizontal dii-ection, 
 as trees and shrubs will do near a sea-shore 
 which is exposed to high winds. One solitary 
 palm-tree is an exception • it stands in some little 
 g-arden in the town, and rises high above the 
 houses, waving- its g-raceful leaves. " What is 
 this town here for, in this ston}' wilderness, on a 
 rocky coast, with but a small harbour, which can 
 be entered in fair weather only T^ I asked our host, 
 M. G — . He told me that behind these mountains 
 are fruitful valleys full of olive-trees, the fruit of 
 
80 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 which the peasants bring* to Rettimo, where it is 
 made into oil and soap. We visited one of the 
 many soap manufactories in Rettimo ; the soap 
 was very nice and pure, and I heartily wished 
 that it had been more extensively used in the 
 island, instead of being- exported to Constantinople, 
 Trieste, &c. 
 
 M. G — J the English Yice Consul, in whose 
 house we lived, and who received us with gTeat 
 kindness, is an Ionian Greek. He spoke Italian, 
 and one of his sons had also a slioht knowledofe of 
 that lang-uag-e, which enabled him generally to 
 make out what we said, though he seemed to have 
 great difficulty in replying. My husband, how- 
 ever, persisted in saying that M. Pietro's want 
 of fluency in speech, arose from another cause 
 than from a want of knowledg*e of the language. 
 He said he was sure I had made a conquest, and 
 I am inclined not altogether to disbelieve that as- 
 sertion, for he certainly seemed uncommonly fond 
 of being in the same room with us, and whenever 
 he was there he stared at me with a mixed ex- 
 pression of kindness and wonder in his face, which 
 was so ridiculous that it cost me a supreme effort 
 to suppress a smile whenever I looked at him. 
 When he heard that I was fond of flowers he 
 brought me some twice or thrice a day. Where 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 81 
 
 lie g'ot them from I cannot tell, for they are not so 
 plentiful at Eettimo as they are at beautiful Canea. 
 M. G — 's wife, daug'hter, and daug-hters-in- 
 la\v understood nothing* but Greek. I could, 
 therefore, only speak with them by sig'ns, and as 
 one can convey but very simple ideas by that mode 
 of communication, we did not tell one another 
 much. They were dressed in a way that was a 
 mixture of primitive simplicity and gorg-eous 
 finery. With a plain cotton dress, and a hand- 
 kerchief tied round the head, they Avould yet wear 
 splendid diamond ear-ring's, pearl necklace, brace- 
 lets, etc. There Avas the same incong-ruity observable 
 in their houses, which were wanting- in many of 
 what seem to us the very first and indispensable 
 comforts of life, while the beds had g"old embroidered 
 counterpanes. AVith the children I g-ot on better 
 than w ith these ladies. I won at once the heart 
 of a little boy to whom I showed my air-cushion, 
 and who never tired of flllino' it and then lettinof 
 the air escape again. He would abandon this 
 delig'htful occupation onl}' in order to look throug'h 
 my opera-glass; but, of course, using- it the 
 wrong" w^a}', so as to make thing's that w^ere near 
 appear far off and small, which he seemed to 
 think much more interesting' than bringing* distant 
 
 objects near. 
 
 G 
 
82 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 But it was not only my air-cushion and opera- 
 ^lass which excited the curiosity and wonder of 
 the little and big children at Eettimo. Every 
 thing- I had and wore seemed to astonish them — 
 my kid g-loves, my straw hat and feather^ the cut 
 of my dress^ my diary. They saw me once or 
 twice write down some little note into it, and 
 seemed to watch the operation with a kind of awe. 
 I, for my part, was surprised at the absence of 
 many common thing-s. I have already mentioned 
 that 1 could not buy any blotting- paper j they 
 told me that for a pair of kid gloves one would 
 have to send to Smyrna, which is a forty-eig'ht 
 hours' sea-voj'^ag-e, four times the journey be- 
 tween London and Paris, and I found it even 
 difficult to g-et a few hair-pins. The wary Greek 
 shopkeeper of whom I inquired for the latter 
 article, as he could not serve me with it, offered 
 me instead, to my g-reat amusement, a whole 
 chest of Holloway's pills and ointment at a g-reatly 
 reduced price. The enterprising* quack had 
 actually sent a chest of his valuable medicines to 
 Eettimo, but the natives evincing* no inclination 
 to take them, the Greek hoped he mig-ht g-et rid 
 of his stock by selling* it to me, thinking-^ as he 
 told me, that all Eng-lish people took these pills 
 as reg-ularly as their dinners or suppers. Why 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND, 83 
 
 had not Mr. Ilolloway read in the " Museum of 
 Antiquities" that extract from a history of Candia, 
 published in 1550^ where they say: — "The 
 primitive name by which this country was knoAvn 
 was Aeria, which was given to it on account of 
 the temperature and sahibrity of the air, and 
 from the fertihty and abundance which reig'ned 
 in the ishxnd. It is, indeed, most temperate, 
 insomuch that the inhabitants have much less 
 need of medicine than in other countries, and 
 consequently live to a great ag'e— occasionally to 
 one hundred and twenty or one hundred and 
 thirty, and the author confirms having* seen one 
 who, b}^ his baptismal records, proved himself to 
 be one hundred and thirty-four, and was then in 
 the possession of all his faculties." What will 
 become of the pills in so provoking'ly healthy a 
 country? Probably the}'' will be eaten by the 
 ants which abound there in summer ; with what 
 effect upon their dig-estion, I cannot conjecture. 
 I am sorry to say that the weather, which 
 had not been very favourable on our journey to 
 Rettimo, became, after our arrival there, very 
 rough and storm}' indeed. The people there said 
 they never remembered such a Tramontane (north- 
 wind) except in December or January. The g-ale 
 blew for twenty-four hours, the sea had become ex- 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THEEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 ceeding'ly roug'h,and now and then we had a pelting* 
 rain. Under these circumstances we found Ret- 
 timo an3'^thing' but a pleasant sejour, and the worst 
 was that as long* as this weather lasted the Lloyd 
 steamer^ which was to take us back to Canea^ could 
 not be expected to arrive. When on the next day 
 the wind had abated a little, and the weather was 
 altog'ether finer, we went out for a stroll to the 
 sands. The sea was still very rough, and we 
 looked disconsolate towards the horizon, feeling- 
 very much like two poor shipwrecked creatures on 
 a desert coast, and evincing* a strong* inclination 
 to quarrel with every thing" and every body. All 
 at once I cried delig'hted, like Enoch Arden, *^ A 
 sail, a sail," it was however no sail, but what was 
 a thousand times more welcome still, the funnel of a 
 steamer. We saw however, at once, that it was not 
 the Lloyd, but the Greek steamer, as it came from 
 the opposite direction from which the former was ex- 
 pected ', still we conjectured that if one could come 
 the other would also arrive ere long*. We hurried 
 to the port to see her come in, and to g*et our 
 letters, which we knew were on board. The fine 
 vessel rode g-allantly on the waves, and seemed to 
 rock but little. It approached the entrance of the 
 harbour : now it will stop, I thoug-ht, and in half 
 nn hour I shall have my letters, when coolly and 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 85 
 
 proudl}' she passed on, finding' the sea too roiig-h 
 to venture the disembarcation of either letters, 
 merchandize, or passengers. My dear long-ed-for 
 letters went to Candia, and althoug-h it is but 
 forty miles from Rettimo, they could not return 
 before the lapse of a whole week, when the 
 steamer would brino; them back. Ah ! one must 
 be patient and in no hurry in Crete. The forty 
 poor passengers for Hettimo, who as I afterwards 
 heard had been on board the Greek steamboat, must 
 have found that out. They too were left at Candia, 
 and had to wait there a week till the steamer re- 
 turning- from Sira broug'ht them to their destina- 
 tion. 
 
 Our impatience drove us ag-ain to the shore after 
 dinner, to look out for the Austrian steamer, but 
 we spied for it in vain. The weather, however, 
 became clearer and pleasanter as the day declined, 
 and shortly before sunset all the clouds that had 
 hung" over the island vanished, and then appeared, 
 as if by mag-ic, the mountain g-iant Ida shining- 
 in the evening' light. 
 
 We had intended to make an excursion from 
 
 Rettimo to Mount Ida, and visit the " Cradle of 
 
 the Gods," 
 
 " Eea la scelsc gia per cuna fida 
 Del 3U0 figliolo * * * * *" — Dante. 
 
8G THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 and tr}^ to discover the sources of the infernal 
 streams; 
 
 " Lor corso in questa valle si diroccia ; 
 Fanno Acteronte, Stige e Tlegetonta;" 
 
 but this plan could not be carried out on account 
 of the weather. I felt a pang of reg-ret that I 
 had not been able to reach it^ " it seemed so near, 
 and yet so far." 
 
 But the sun set, the rosy light on the snowy 
 mountain top disappeared, and we had to return 
 to our quarters with the disagreeable impression 
 that we might have to sleep another night at 
 Rettimo. I lonofed to be in Canea aofain, which 
 was much the pleasanter place. 
 
 We sat up later than usual, and had only just 
 gone to bed when our host knocked at oui' dgor 
 and told us that the steamer was in sight. We 
 dressed quickl}^, and then our host and his son, of 
 whom I have spoken before, conducted us to the 
 Marina. The boy carried in one hand a bouquet 
 of ros'^s he had given me in the morning, in the 
 other a little lantern, for the streets of Rettimo are 
 not lighted up, and after dusk, ever}^ one is obliged 
 under pain of imprisonment, to carry a lantern 
 about with him. 
 
 When we ariived at the harbour I saw the 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 87 
 
 lio-hts of the steamer at what seemed to me a 
 o-reat distance out at sea. 
 
 A row in a small boat at nig-ht, and in a roug'h 
 sea^ is not at all a thing- I am particularly 
 fond of, for I am not of a romantic turn of 
 mind ; I dislike adventures, and have, above all, 
 a g-reat objection to bein^ drowned. 
 
 HoAvever, in Kettimo I could not remain^ so I 
 must try to reach the steamer. When in the 
 boat, I clun^ tightly to my husband, who pro 
 mised to take care of me. How much were we 
 surprised when the young- man with the lantern 
 and the flowers boldly entered the boat after us, 
 for I had been told by his brother-in-law that M. 
 Pietro was afraid of the water, having" once had a 
 very bad passage to Smyrna. But in answer to 
 our remonstrances he said, as well as he could in 
 his broken Italian, that he would see us safety on 
 board. 
 
 AVhen we were out of the harbour, and the 
 little boat went up and down the hig'h waves, 
 he called out every time a new wave came, '^ Non 
 paura,non paura !" if to encourag-e me or himself 
 I cannot tell. But he did me a service b}^ coming* ; 
 it amused me so much that I forg'ot my fear 
 Mhile laughing- at my husband's g'ood-humoured 
 jokes at the poor fellow. AVhen h: had given 
 
88 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 me my roses^ and we had shaken hands and 
 thanked him, he left with his lantern. We 
 watched the little light as it danced up and down 
 on the waves till it reached terra firm a, and knew 
 then that the kind soul had no more need to call 
 out " Non pam^a ! " 
 
 We arrived safely at Canea ; and two days 
 after Marietta packed my trunks while I went to 
 pay a farewell visit to Leila, at a country-house 
 in Kaleppa, where the Pasha had removed his 
 family during- my absence from Canea. I drove 
 there in the Pasha's carriage, the only vehicle of 
 any kind on the island, and which resembled 
 somewhat the Lord Mayor's coach. 
 
 On Monday, the 17th of April, we left Canea 
 and paid a flying- visit to Candia, the ancient 
 capital of the island. We walked through the 
 town, which is a desolate place — ten times too 
 large for its inhabitants. Grass grows in all the 
 streets, and the very dogs seem more lean and 
 hungry here than elsewhere. The fine massive 
 old Venetian walls that surround the harbour and 
 town have been cracked by earthquakes, and they 
 seem unable to resist the general decay. There 
 are many palm-trees in Candia whose graceful 
 forms rise up amidst the ruin and desolation 
 which surround them ; and beyond the town, 
 
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 89 
 
 as in Canea^ one sees a chain of snow-covered 
 mountains. 
 
 It was noon when we weig'hed anchor, and the 
 steamer left. I remained on deck as long- as I 
 could see the island ; the sea in the blaze of the 
 mid-day sun was of a brilliant blue, the sky 
 showed all shades of it from a deep azure over 
 head, to a pale milky-white on the horizon. 
 And thus, encircled by sea and sky, lay like a 
 giant emerald the enchanted island to which a 
 kind fairy had led me to dream away a few weeks 
 that had passed like so many hours. Farther 
 and farther it receded. Now, I can no longer 
 distinguish the snow-covered mountain-tops from 
 the clouds above them; all becomes misty and 
 indistinct. I shut my eyes for a little while, for 
 I have strained them in looking- so fixedly. I 
 open them ag-ain — it is g-one hke a dream. I see 
 it no more ! the enchanted island has vanished. 
 
90 THEEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE.* 
 
 " Along with the barbarous Turk 
 Where woman has never a soul to save." 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Goethe says in his journey to Italy : " Thus it 
 was written on my leaf in the Book of Fate, that 
 on the twenty-eig'hth of September, 1786, towards 
 five o'clock in the evening"^ I should see Yenice 
 for the first time.^' So important and momentous 
 — so much like an event — appeared also to me 
 
 * It is with great diffidence that I print this chapter, 
 as I am conscious that so short a stay in a place so strange, 
 and to strangers, in part so little accessible as Constan- 
 tinople, could not enable me to form any competent judgment 
 of the people that inhabit it. I intended, therefore, to con- 
 fine myself merely to a description of their outward appear- 
 ance and manners without drawing any conclusions or 
 forming any judgment. I find, however, that I have not 
 been able to keep my good intention. May the reader take 
 these remarks for what they are worth, and pardon the 
 errors into which I have surely fallen. 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 91 
 
 my entry into Constantinople on the twenty-first 
 of April, 1 805. 
 
 It was about seven o'clock in the morning" when 
 we saw the seven towers that mark the beg-inning" 
 of the town. I had been already some time on 
 deck, pacing* it with a feeling- akin to the emotion 
 with which I used to sit when a child in some 
 theatre, before the rising- of the curtain, expecting- 
 to see a Christmas Pantomime. And, as in 
 that happy ag-e, the red and blue fire, and 
 the lovely fairies in pink tarlatan with silver 
 gauze wing-s, far surpass our g-reatest expecta- 
 tions, so, although I had formed no mean idea of 
 what I was going- to see, did the sig-ht of Constan- 
 tinople far surpass all I had ever imagined. 
 After we had passed the Serag-Ho Point and 
 neared the harbour, the city appeared to encircle 
 the sea and close around us. It was not so much 
 the beauty, as the grandeur that surprised me. 
 Genoa " la superba " and even g-lorious Naples 
 appear but small in comparison to the wide 
 extended sea and the mountains that tower 
 above them ; but Constantinople appears g-reat 
 in proportion to the surrounding- scenery — a 
 p-io-antic town. Immediately after we had passed 
 the " Seven Towers " the mist that had till then 
 obscured the horizon disappeared, and now the 
 
93 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 grand picture lay before us in a clear transparent 
 lig-ht. It was a most exciting-^ ^^PPy moment. 
 Round our boat croAvds of porpoises were gam- 
 bolling- in the water in the '^ maddest, merriest " 
 manner ; over our head we saw innumerable 
 flights of birds of passag-e coming- from the 
 southj and bringing the spring to Constantinople. 
 At the very moment our boat entered the harbour 
 all the Turkish men-of-war lying there, having 
 all their flags hoisted, began to fire a splendid 
 cannonade. The people around me said they 
 were firing because it was Friday, which is the 
 Tu]'kish Sunday, and the Sultan was just goin^ 
 to the Mosque. That may have been the case ; 
 but at that moment I felt as elated as any Sultan 
 can feel, and it seemed to me those guns were 
 firing- only to express the joy and wonder of my 
 heart at what is certainly one of the most wonder- 
 ful sights in the world. I shall not attempt to 
 describe it ; that has been done by far abler pens 
 than mine, and even they have failed in conveying' 
 to their readers any adequate idea of it. In fact, 
 I believe it is a hopeless undertaking-. As no 
 description can g-ive to an Esquimaux an idea 
 of the warmth and brig-htness of the sun when its 
 rays make the waves of the Bosphorus and the 
 Gulf of Naples appear a sea of gold ; or a South 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 93 
 
 American, who had heard nothmg" but the shriek of 
 parrots and cockatoos, could never imagine what 
 the sono- of the nio-htino-ale or lark is like ; so 
 one must have seen Constantinople and. Scutari, 
 the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus to know 
 what they are like, as they resemble nothing" else 
 on earth. 
 
 Everybody knows that Constantinople seen 
 from the sea, is the g-randest and most beautiful 
 town in the world j it is also a well known fact 
 that as soon as one puts one's foot on shore, the 
 picture changes entirely. But I must confess 
 that after Smyrna, and the towns of Crete, I did 
 not find it so wretchedl}^ mean and dirty as I had 
 expected, although the houses of Pera (the Euro- 
 pean quarter) are insignificant, and the wooden 
 palaces of Stamboul not at all imposing. I never 
 had much time to look at them, for the people 
 that move through the streets, and that seem a 
 series of strange, interesting', and beautiful pictures 
 attracted all my attention. I advise all painters 
 who are at a loss for subjects to go to Constanti- 
 nople ) one stroll along the great street of Pera, 
 or through the bazaars of Stamboul, will supply 
 him with subjects for years, so picturesque and 
 beautiful is the hfe that moves around him. 
 The first figure 3"0u see is the Kaiktchi or 
 
94 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 boatman^ who in his kaik, the most eleg*antly 
 shaped^ and most neatly ornamental boat in the 
 world^ takes jon ashore. With his bronzed face, 
 his athletic chest and shoulders, in his thin silk 
 shirt, that leaves his muscular arms and chest 
 uncovered, his whole dress consisting* besides this 
 shirt of a red fez, and a pair of white pantaloons, 
 he presents a most striking* appearance 3 but you 
 have hardly time to look at this new and interest- 
 ing* fig'ure, when another one attracts your at- 
 tention, it is the Hammal, or porter of Con- 
 stantinoi^le, who carries 3^our lug-g-ag-e, which con- 
 sists perhaps of two larg*e trunks, a hat box, a 
 dressing* bag*, wrappers, umbrellas, etc., all at 
 once on his back. This human beast of burden 
 is dressed in a lig-ht brown flannel suit, trimmed 
 with black braid. He is often an elderl}'' man, 
 with a mild venerable face, and bent almost 
 double under the weig-ht on his back, looks the 
 personification of the words " In the sweat of thy 
 brow thou shalt eat thy bread." But there are 
 g^a^^er pictures in the streets of Pera. You step 
 aside to let a carriag'e pass, that is all gilt aiid 
 glass, and that comes rattling* up the streets. A 
 child would mistake the coachman for a prince, 
 so splendid does he look in his g*old embroidered 
 coat. The pavement, even in Pera, is not good 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 95 
 
 enoug'li to allow a carriage to drive quickly ;, so 
 you have full leisure to look at its inmates. Tlie 
 crimson curtains are half let down^ and throug-h 
 them a magic light falls on the picture within. 
 Generally the carriage is occupied by three or four 
 Turkish ladies. The}^ are always j'oung-, and 
 all look beautiful ; old ladies it seems have no 
 carriages to ride in. The mothers of Beys and 
 Pashas stop at home^ dressed in old calico g'owns 
 which they exchang-e for some rich attire on ex- 
 traordinary occasions only. These young- Turkisli 
 beauties wear g'ossamer veils so thin and trans- 
 parent^ as to hide .no beauty of form or colour^ 
 while they just soften any little defect of either. 
 Under this thin veil, face and neck show off to 
 great advantag*e, and the jewellery the}^ wear, and 
 the g'a}^ colours of their satin cloaks, seen in the 
 soft crimson light of the carriag-e, produce a very 
 charming' effect, unsurpassed even b}^ our beauties? 
 when they drive croAvned with flowers, to the 
 Princess of Wales' Drawing-room. 1 think it is 
 in these carriag-es that Turkish ladies look best, 
 even better than in the Harem, where however 
 when they are well dressed, gracefully recUn- 
 ing on the divan, the^^ often look very beauti- 
 ful. Only those who are above the middle size, 
 and they are few, look well standing". None 
 
96 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 walk g-racefully, not even those that have ex- 
 changed the sock and chimsy shppers, usually 
 worn, for French chaussure. This however is 
 considered no fault in a Turkish lady, who would 
 be almost ashamed to walk well^ as it would prove 
 that she had often used such vulg-ar exertion. 
 Having a whole host of female slaves at her com- 
 mand, a Turkish lady moves about but little when 
 in the Harem, which she never leaves except in 
 a carriaofe. The women of the middle and lower 
 classes however walk as hadlj as the ladies, which 
 appears to be occasioned in a great measure by 
 their mode of sitting-. They shuffle along* with their 
 toes turned in, wearing* larg*e yellow boots, over 
 which they often have slippers of the same colour. 
 You seldom see a really pretty face among* them. 
 I believe beauty has a market value in Constanti- 
 nople, and the women know that very well, and 
 wont marry a poor man if their face can buy them 
 a rich one. AVe must however not judge them 
 too harshly on that account. Marriag-e fi'om 
 love is out of the question in a country where it 
 would be scandal for a man to say that a lady 
 is beautiful. He must never have seen her 
 face, nor have exchanged a word with her before 
 she is his wife. He values nothing* but beauty in 
 his wife, she looks for a rich Harem, jewels. 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 97 
 
 carriagTS^ nnd a handsome compensation in case 
 he sends her away. The women of tlie middle 
 chisses, wlio have of course no carriag-es^ ride 
 sometimes on horseback. The}^ sit Hke men, and 
 are accompanied by some Hack or white man ser- 
 vant, who runs behind the horse, and carries his 
 mistress' shppers and parasol. These Amazons 
 do not look particularly pretty or g-raceful, but the 
 men on horseback are splendid. A Bey or Pasha, 
 on a fine Arab horse, especially if he is an old 
 man, and still wears the national dress, is a sig-ht 
 worth seeing'. Horse and rider look as if moulded 
 in one form, so firm and gracefully sits the rider 
 in his saddle. Man}' of the horses are splendid, 
 and seem g-entle as well as Hvel}', but now and 
 then I saw a vicious one amono- the horses of the 
 cavalry, that kicked with both front and Iiind 
 leo-s, and frio-htened me in the narrow crowded 
 streets of Stamboul. Yet I never saw any ac- 
 cident in consequence. The Turkish soldiers \vd\e 
 a bold martial look, but in their dress they want 
 entirel}' the neatness which European discipline re- 
 quires of the soldier. The body g-uard of the Sultan 
 looks magnificent. They are perhaps not such fine 
 men as our horse- guards, but their dress is far 
 more picturesque and imposing. But I forget 
 that 1 intended to take vou uj) the o-reat street of 
 
 K 
 
98 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 Pera,; to our hotel. Well, all I have hitherto de- 
 scribed 3^ou may have seen before 3'ou have taken 
 many steps in that crowded thoroug-hfare. Who 
 is the next person that passes you ? A Circassian 
 with his hig'h fur cap, and his row of cartridges 
 across his chest, leading- a pretty child of ten or 
 eleven years, with soft brown melancholy eyes. He 
 is taking- her to the slave dealer, unless he attract 
 in the street the attention of some rich Turk, or 
 Turkish lady, who will perhaps there and then 
 buy the child and take her away. 
 
 The little Turkish children appeared to me 
 an3^thing- but what are vulg*arly called "little 
 Turks.'' There are numbers of them in the streets, 
 on the steamboats, and in the Harems, but I 
 seldom saw a child in a real fit of naug-htiness or 
 passion. In their miniature dressing* g-owns of 
 cotton, wool or silk, as the case may be, but always 
 of most g-org-eous colours and pattern, they looked 
 funny little objects. The little g-irls in the Harems 
 were sometimes pretty. 
 
 But what are those strange, wild figures, 
 surrounded by a crowd of peo})le coming- slowly 
 up the street? They are leading- bears along- 
 to some more retired spot than the hig-h street 
 of Pera, \^here the bears and their masters 
 dance tog-ether; a strang-e performance which 
 the men accompany with a monotonous kind 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 99 
 
 of song' and beating* of a tanibonrine. They 
 look as uncouth and wild as the shag-g'y animals 
 the}^ lead along*, but not more so than the 
 shepherds you meet a little further on walking* 
 before their flocks of sheep and lambs. These wear 
 a waistcoat and trowsers of undressed sheepskin, 
 and a sheepskin hang-g down their back as a cloak. 
 Their lono* black hair falls over their shoulders and 
 ])artly hides their foces. They carry long* sticks 
 in their hands, that look almost like the stems of 
 young" trees, and are of all the strang*e and wild 
 fig-ures you see perhaps the strang*est and wildest. 
 AVhat a contrast the}^ form to the handsome 
 Greek lady that now passes you. She is dressed 
 in the latest Paris fashion, \;hich is however mo- 
 dified just a little in accordance with the irresistible 
 likinof of all inhabitants of the South for g-aver 
 colours. Goethe observed this love for brio-ht 
 colours in Italv, and with his usual intellio-ence 
 seems to have discovered at once a reason for it. 
 What he wrote from Naples, on the 29th of Ma}^ 
 1787, he mig'ht have written from Constantinople 
 in 1865. He says: "The many coloured, varie- 
 g-ated flowers and fruits, with which nature adorns 
 itself here, seem to invite man to adorn himself 
 and all that belono-s to him with the brio-htest 
 colours. Whoever can afford it decorates his 
 
 H 2 
 
100 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 hat with ribbons or flowers. Chairs and drawers 
 in the poorest houses are painted with flowers^ the 
 carriag'es are scarlet with gilded ornaments, &c. 
 We consider generally the love of g-ay colours 
 vulg'ar and barbarous, and such it ma}^ become 
 in certain conditions ; but beneath a very clear 
 blue sky there really exists no very brig'ht colour, 
 because nothing- can vie with the splendour of the 
 sun and its reflexion on the sea. The brig-htest 
 colour is softened by the powerful lig'ht, and be- 
 cause all colours, such as the g'reen of the trees 
 and plants, and the j-ellow, brown and red of the 
 g-round, act with full pouer upon the e3'e, the 
 flowers and dresses harmonize with it. Every- 
 thino* seems desirous to become somewhat visible 
 under the splendour of sky and sea." 
 
 If the Greek lady be the g'ayest fig"ure in the 
 crowd, the Arab woman is the most dreary 
 and dismal. She is so entirely enveloped and 
 thickly veiled, that but to look at her gives one a 
 feeling- of suffocation. The Turkish veil at Con- 
 stantinople is a pretence, the Arab veil a reality. 
 How the women can breathe or see throug'h it is 
 a wonder to me. 
 
 These are but a few of the strang'e and pictur- 
 esque flg'ures one meets on a walk througii a street 
 of Pera or Stamboul; there are many others, priests 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 101 
 
 in a variety of dresses, Persians, Chaldeans, Jews, 
 and some so strano-e and new, that Hke the flowers 
 of Crete, I do not know their names, nor where 
 the}' come from, nor what they mean. There are 
 of course also some ver}'- disg-usting* sights ; the 
 dirty beg*g"ar that importunes you, the wretched 
 lunatic with liis shorn head uncovered, who touches 
 your arm, the deaf and dumb boy that beg-s w^ith 
 hideous noises, the nasty dog's that in a torpid kind 
 of dose lie about in the streets, and worst of all 
 the cripples, that expose their deformed limbs in 
 order to excite your pity. But as I always turned 
 away from these wretched sights, I wdll not re- 
 member them here. 
 
 If this long* description of a walk through Pera 
 should seem tirino- it is no wonder, for it is a lono- 
 steep hill that leads from the Custom House 
 w^here 3^ouland to the Hotel in Pera. Apropos of 
 the Custom House, I must relate a little incident 
 that happened to us when w^c arrived at Constan- 
 tinople, and which well characterises Turkish 
 Custom House administration. When the officer 
 had minutely examined all our trunks, dressing- 
 bags, etc., and had looked with great suspicion at 
 my pincushion, the use of w'hicli he could not 
 understand, and tried to open it in order to see if 
 it contained any contraband, he discovered in a 
 
102 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 small basket half a dozen orang'es^ which kind 
 Sig". A — of Canea had insisted upon my taking- 
 with me. These were seized, and the Turk asked 
 us to pay five piastres (lO^^.) duty^ when, to our 
 utter astonishment, the drag'oman of our hotel 
 gave him one piastre (2^/.), which he took and was 
 thankful. 
 
 To walk up to the hotel in Pera is, as I said 
 before, very tiring", for the hill is steep, the 
 pavement bad, and there are no footpaths ', still 
 it is vastly preferable to driving'. Those g"aily- 
 painted, g-ilded carriag'es have very bad springs, 
 and on the pavement of Constantinople and 
 across the wooden bridges they shake one to 
 such a degree, that I felt if the human body was 
 not grown tog'ether mine would surely have 
 fallen to pieces. Men are much better off in that 
 respect, they can hire a nice little horse, which 
 may be found everywhere, and at a moderate 
 price, while even a short drive always costs from 
 fifty to seventy piastres (106% or 125.) There is 
 one other kind of conveyance for women, that 
 is the sedan-chair; it is not a cheap mode of 
 transit, as you can g-o no distance under 65. or Ss. ; 
 but the men carry j^ou along quite as quickly 
 as the carriages, and the movement is not un- 
 pleasant. These sedan-chairs are nmch used 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 103 
 
 by the stout Greek and Armenian matrons. I 
 did not notice that Turkish women used them, 
 they seem to be of a sociable character, and hke 
 to o-o out in sets of three or four^ and therefore 
 ride in carriages. 
 
 A few days after our arrival we went the usual 
 round of sig-ht-seeing-j in company with several 
 other persons staying* at the hotel^ who all profited 
 by the special permission which must be obtained 
 before one can visit some of the places of interest 
 in Constantinople. Our companions were all 
 Eno-lish ; and I am sorry to say there were 
 several of them with us who made themselves 
 conspicuously ridiculous. One promising* youth, 
 measuring* in his slippers at least five feet ten 
 inches^ wore a knickabocker suit like my little 
 boy of seven, who has lately rebelled ag'ainst 
 this dress as too childish, declaring* his deter- 
 mination to wear trousers ; and, although it was 
 as cold as on a March day with an easterly 
 wind, and no more sun than shines on a brig-ht 
 November day in London, he had, in order to 
 protect himself against the sunstroke, a larg-e 
 white handkerchief twisted round his wide-a- 
 wake, which looked like a turban out-of-foshion. 
 For turbans are quite out of fashion in Constan- 
 tinople, where the red fez has been almost exclu- 
 
104 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 sively adopted as a bead-covermg\ Another of 
 the 3^ouno- men of our party had a pair of very 
 small slippers which, when entering* a mosque, he 
 used to put over his larg-e boots, of course with 
 the heels down. They covered only half of his 
 boots, which offended one of the Turkish priests, 
 who told him throuo-h the drao-oman to take his 
 dusty boots off, but the proud young- Briton 
 refused to do so, and very nearly broug-ht us all 
 into trouble. 
 
 The sig'hts of Constantinople are so far interest- 
 ing- as they are different from those of all other 
 European capitals. Their novelty was the chief 
 attraction they had for me. We saw them all 
 in one day, which proves that there are not many. 
 
 We first visited the o-arden of the old Seraoflio, 
 whose situation on a g*entle hill, sloping- down to 
 the Sea of Marmora, is one of the most beautiful 
 in the world. There are larg-e numbers of fine 
 cypresses and plane-trees g-roAving- in masses there 
 almost like a forest, which g-ives an air of perfect 
 solitude and retirement to the g-arden, althoug-h 
 it is surrounded on two sides by one of the larg-est 
 and busiest towns in the world. The beautiful 
 old Serag'lio that formerly adorned this splendid 
 site was burned down a few j-ears ago. It was 
 then the residence of what are called the 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 105 
 
 ^^ Imperial widows " of the late Sultan. These 
 uiihapi)}' creatures are never allowed to leave the 
 precincts of the palace that has been assigned to 
 them as a residence, but must mourn, in perfect 
 retirement, the loss of their late lord till death ends 
 their existence. There is a rumour that one of these 
 Serailee Hanum (that is the title by which they 
 are distinguished), in order to g-et a chance of 
 escape from her prison, set it on fire 5 but this is, 
 of course, a conjecture onl}-. The Dowag'er 
 ISultanas inhabit noAV another larg-e palace situ- 
 ated in the same garden, and 1 looked at its 
 latticed windows, when it was pointed out to me, 
 with a feeling' of unspeakable pit}'. 
 
 There are in the same delightful locality some 
 pretty Kiosks of the Sultan. One is called the 
 Liljrar}', which did how^ever not contain more 
 books than a well stocked schoolroom in an Eng- 
 lish country house. We visited three mosques : the 
 beautiful one of Sultan Sulimani, Sultan Achmet's, 
 which has six minarets, and i\ja Sophia, the grand 
 old church, the very carpets of which look venerable. 
 
 The look-down from the high gallery into the 
 nave, which was well filled with worshippers, 
 was most interesting. The wretclied little glass 
 lamps, with which the Turks light up their 
 mosques, are excessively ugly and out of keeping. 
 
106 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 The Hippodrome now no more resembles a 
 Eoman Circus than Trafalg-ar Square does. Every 
 trace of the ancient structure has disappeared, 
 and the square is surrounded by Turkish mosques 
 and houses. The larg-e obehsk, that stands in the 
 middle, shows however that this was the site of 
 the splendid Hippodrome which was adorned by 
 an infinite number of the finest Greek statues in 
 marble and bronze. The famous horses of Lysip- 
 pus, which once stood here, I remembered to have 
 seen over the portals of St. Mark in Venice. 
 
 The least beautiful, but not the least interestino* 
 sig'ht, is the g-aller}' where the costumes of the Jani- 
 zaries are exhibited. Most persons will remember 
 that this Turkish soldier}', the formidable oppo- 
 nents of all progTcss and civilization in the 
 Turkish Empire, the terror of the Sultans and the 
 tyrants of the people, were burnt and massacred 
 by thousands in the year 1826, by order of Sultan 
 Mahmud XL, who probably, in doing- so, conferred 
 an inestimable benefit upon the nation. A larg-e 
 number of lay fig-ures, representing- the princi- 
 pal functionaries of the household of the Sultan, 
 the officers of the Janizaries, and the Jani- 
 zaries themselves, who were not oblig-ed to wear 
 a uniform, stand there in the very dresses these 
 people used to wear, and which are the strang-est 
 
CONSTANTI^'OrLE. 107 
 
 costumes the barbarous taste of a wild and 
 haug-hty people could invent. The}^ look a g-liastly 
 host now. I don't know that I ever felt more 
 uncomfortable than during- the time I found my- 
 self in their company. I would not stop a nig-ht 
 alone in those g*alleries, not for all the trea- 
 sures those terrible looking* men possessed w hen 
 alive. 
 
 I g'ladly turn my thoug'hts from this " dread 
 abode " to the more cheerful life of the Bazaars 
 of Stamboulj where you can buy sparkling' dia- 
 monds and g'olden slippers, and all the ^' perfumes 
 of Arabia." There is little besides the unavoidable 
 atta of roses and embroidered slippers to tempt 
 a not over acquisitive disposition. Ladies that 
 are fond of diamonds can g-et them cheaper there 
 than in London or Paris. But then one does not 
 g'O to the Bazaars only for the purpose of purchas- 
 ing- at the stalls, ever}-- one of them is a new 
 and striking- picture. The principal figure in it 
 is now an old g-rey-bearded Turk, who still wears 
 his national dress, sitting- on his carpet or rechn- 
 ing- on his cushion, smoking- his chibouque. He 
 hardly chang-es his comfortable position, when 
 your dragfoman asks him for some article you 
 want, and only rises if he cannot reach it while 
 reclining-. Or it is a lively black- eyed young" 
 
108 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 Greek, who spreads out before you as you pass 
 his stall, a g'old embroidered ""able-cover, or holds 
 up some brig'ht g-litteriug- beads, in order to excite 
 your desire to purchase , or it is a long* bearded 
 Jew, in his oriental dress, that begins to talk to 
 you in English, French and German, all at once, 
 and offers to sell 3'ou ever}^ thing* you can possibly 
 want at the lowest possible price. What different 
 fig-ures are these ff'om the London shopmen in 
 their eternal black coats and white cravats, and 
 the young" shopwomen, their companions, in their 
 everlasting- black alpaca dresses, alwa3^s standing- 
 behind the counter, even if there is nobody to 
 serve. 
 
 The workshops, which like the stalls of the 
 Bazaars are quite open towards the street, are 
 also interestino- to look at. You see the tailor 
 cutting" out his work, the cooper making" barrels, 
 the turner at his work, the coppersmith, the baker, 
 the pastr^^-cook, &c. &c. Whenever the work 
 allows it the workmen sit, and the}^ do not look 
 as if they laboured very hard. 
 
 As I wished much to visit some Harems in 
 Constantinople, and see a httle more of the Tui-kish 
 women, my husband, in order to g'ratifj' my wish, 
 procured for us introductions to some people of 
 note, and took me to the Pashas and smoked 
 
CONSTANTINOrLE. 109 
 
 chiboques A\ltli tliem, althoiig-li I know he would 
 have much preferred to take a kaik, and g-o to 
 Bujuk DerCj or tlie sweet waters of Europe \\ith 
 me ; for a row on the Bosphorus, or the Golden 
 Horn, was what he most enjo3'ed at Constantinople. 
 Before we visited the Pashas in Stamboul, I paid 
 however my promised visit to Mme. Conemenos. 
 the Greek lad}-, whose acquaintance I had made 
 on the steamboat from Corfu to Sira. She was 
 staying* with her parents in Yeni Keui on the 
 Bosphorus, where M. d'Aristarchi, her father, has 
 a beautiful palace, a ])resent of the late Sultan's, 
 under whose reign M. d'Aristarchi, who is brother 
 of the Prince of Samos, filled hio-h offices of state. 
 I remeujber my visit to this amiable famity with 
 gTcat pleasure, for in g'oing* to Yeni Keui, which 
 is one of the prettiest villag'es on the Bosphorus^ 
 I saw the beauty of that unrivalled s])ot for the 
 first time. I spent a whole da}' there, and never 
 was tired of looking- on the beautiful scenery 
 around, sittino- near the Avindow of some cool 
 airy room of the palace, or walking- throug-h the 
 shad}^ and flowery garden that rises in terraces 
 hig'h above the blue waters of the Bosphorus. 
 
 The very next da}- we paid a visit to Omer 
 P-asha, and were of course interested to see this 
 great soldier of the Turkish Empire. He spoke 
 
110 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 with my husband about the Turkish arni}^, ag-ri- 
 culture^ and horse breeding- • to me about his two 
 Httle children, a little g"irl of fifteen months^ and a 
 baby bo}^^ who was then a few weeks old. These 
 are his only children^ besides a married daug'hter. 
 He spoke with apparent regret that these children 
 should have been given to him so late in life, and 
 said that he could not hope to see them grow up, 
 but as in spite of his advanced years^ and a slig'ht 
 indisposition of which he complained, he still 
 looked a fine man, I told him to trust in Pro- 
 vidence, which mig'ht spare him still for many 
 years. We parted after a visit of two hours, 
 mutually well pleased I think^ and with a promise 
 to renew our acquaintance in London, which he in- 
 tended visiting' in the course of the summer. I did 
 not enter his Harem, as his wife had been so lately 
 confined, and could not receive visitors. 
 
 As Omer Pasha is a German by birth, and 
 Ishmael Pasha is of Greek extraction, it was 
 only when I visited Sami Pasha, that I knew I 
 was with a real Mussulman, and I think it was 
 partl}^ for that reason that the visit to his house 
 in Stamboul interested me more than the others 
 I had paid. Sami Pasha, ex-Minister of Public 
 Instruction, and member of the Privy Council, 
 lives in a fine old mansion in Stamboul, which is 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 1 1 1 
 
 separated from the bustle and noise of tlie city, 
 by larg-e court yards and gardens which sur- 
 round the house on all sides. The house itself is 
 one of the oldest and finest in Constantinople ; 
 the halls, and rooms, and staircases, are to an 
 Eng-lish eye very spacious, and the reception 
 room, which is entirely of finely carved and richly 
 g'ilded oak, and commands a splendid view of 
 Stamboul, is ver}'^ beautiful. 
 
 Sami Pasha is quite an old man, with a very 
 intellig-ent look, and the manners of a courtier. 
 He has been Governor of many provinces, and 
 seemed pleased to hear that he was still re- 
 membered at Crete, where he was Governor at the 
 time the turbulent Greeks threatened a new in- 
 surrection, which his moderation and firmness 
 had prevented from breaking- out. He had years 
 ag-o visited Eng-land and France, and was in- 
 terested in all that concerned those countries. He 
 had known many of our statesmen personally, as 
 Sir Robert Peel and Lord Aberdeen ; he inquired 
 after Lord Palmerston, and seemed pleased that 
 his Lordship, of whom he ai^peared to be a con- 
 temporar}^, was, like himself, still in the enjoy- 
 ment of health and vig-our. Althouo-h a member 
 of the Privy Council, he holds no long-er any special 
 office, preferring- quiet and retirement. He told 
 
112 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 me that his time was now entirely devoted to 
 study and reflection, and that he was just then 
 writing- a treatise on morals. I had expressed a wish 
 to see the " ladies of the house." I could not in 
 this case ask to see his wife^ as I knew he had two 
 leg"itimate ones ; it is not often the case that Turks 
 have more than one wife^ partly I helieve because it 
 entails a larg-e expenditure^ each lady having* en- 
 tirely separate households, with their larg-e suites 
 .of apartments, and numerous male and female 
 slaves and attendants. After I had been announced 
 to the ladies, a son of Sami Pasha, a young* man 
 of about seventeen years of age, with pleasant, 
 courteous manners, led me into the Harem. 
 All the doors that lead into it had been unlocked, 
 perhaps in order not to shock my western 
 prejudices, so that we walked freely into the 
 ante-chamber of the Harem, where I met the 
 first Hanum, who, looking* rather embarrassed 
 but not unkind, conducted me to another room. 
 She was a stout lady of about thirty-five 3'ears 
 of ag-e, the mother of the yoimg* man that served 
 us as interpreter. She was dressed in green silk, 
 now the fashionable colour among the Turkish 
 ladies, and had a many-coloured handkerchief, in 
 a not unbecomino- manner, wound round her 
 head. I had just time to answer the questions 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 113 
 
 , these ladies g-enerally ask, viz., how many chil- 
 dren I had, their sex, ag-es, etc., when another 
 lad}- entered throiig'h the open door, who seemed 
 to be very nearly of the same a^e as the first, 
 and who was dressed in exactly the same way, 
 as sisters often are in Eng-land. She sat down 
 on a divan opposite us, and I had to answer very 
 nearly the same questions, when Sami Pasha 
 joined us, and introduced his children to me. 
 Both ladies have many children, among' those 
 of the joung'er there was a very pretty little girl 
 of about three years of ag'e, who, with her blue 
 eyes and fair silken hair, mig'ht have been taken 
 for an Eno-lish cliild. 
 
 The Harem of Sami Pasha is very splendid, 
 as becomes his rank and station. The windows, 
 all overlooking* the inner g*arden, are unlatticed, 
 which was pleasant to me. The little stands 
 which hold the Turkish coffee-cups were set with 
 diamonds. All the slaves, and there seemed to 
 be a very larg-e number, were well dressed, some 
 in silk, others in muslin, and they wore much 
 jewellery. Most of them were Circassians, and, 
 although no such g-reat beauties as they are 
 reported to be, were g-ood-looking-, comel}^ 3'oung- 
 women. 
 
 The ladies received me with great courtes}', 
 
 I 
 
114 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 offering- me as a sig-n of g'ood will^ first sweets 
 and coffeej then lemonade, then coffee again. 
 The young'er of the wives, who seemed pleased 
 at my taking- particular notice of her little 
 g'irl, asked me to let her know that I had re- 
 turned safely to England, and had found my chil- 
 dren well. Of course I have complied with so 
 kind a request, accompan3ang" my letter with the 
 photog'raphs of my children. Sami Pasha had said 
 before w^e left, "j^ou must g'o and see my son's 
 collection of antiquities 3" and as we had already 
 heard from others that it was the finest collection 
 of the kind in Turkey, which, however, need not 
 say much, we j^rofited by Sami Pasha's offer, to 
 announce our visit to his son, and went to see him 
 the next day. Suphy Bey received his education 
 at the Court of Mehemet Ali, the g'reat Viceroy 
 of Egypt, and is now a Privy Councillor like his 
 father, and a man of g'reat influence at the 
 Sublime Porte, but he has never left the sacred 
 g'round of Islam, and is a thoroug'h Mussulman. 
 He speaks but very little French, and the first 
 thing" he offered me was a pipe, when I declined 
 it, he asked if I preferred a cig-arette, but even 
 that I was obfig^ed to refuse. 
 
 His collection of antiquities, is no doubt very 
 splendid ; but old Turkish coins have very little 
 
CONSTANTIXOI'LE. 115 
 
 interest for me, as I understand notliino- about 
 them, but at the Greek antiquities I looked ^\ith 
 pleasure. 
 
 I know that his Harem is one of the laro-est 
 in Constantinoplej but I was sorry afterwards 
 that I had asked Supliy Bey to introduce me 
 into it. His Harem is a palace, entirely se- 
 parated from the house of the Bey, and in order 
 to reach it he led me throuo'h two o-ardens, and 
 the black slave who keeps the keys of the Harem 
 had to unlock several strong- doors before we could 
 enter. We waited some time, and the Bey had, it 
 appeared to me, dispatched several slaves before his 
 first Hanum appeared to receive me. She did it 
 with a face of chilling' coldness j and, sitting* down 
 at the farther end of the room, addressed no other 
 word to me than a polite inquiry after my health. 
 The Bey smoked a chiboque^ which a little girl, 
 his dauo'hter, had brouo*ht him ; and there reio'ned 
 an awful silence. At last the Bey rose and left 
 the room j he returned after a few minutes, which 
 had seemed to me terribly long-, leading* by her 
 hand a lovely g'irl of about sixteen years of ag-e, 
 whom he introduced as the daughter of the proud 
 lady opposite me, and who looked as if she 
 entered the room " sorely ag-ainst her will." She 
 was b}' far the most beautiful woman I had seen 
 
 i8 
 
116 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 in the different Harems, but she had the same 
 expression of cool disdain in her face^ that was 
 so repulsive in the mother. 
 
 The father led her to a piano that was in the 
 saloon_, and she beg-an to play. But the instru- 
 ment was woefully out of tune^ and never had the 
 Turkish music sounded more discordant and bar- 
 barous^ so that I could not express any approba- 
 tion^ and merely thanked her, when she had 
 finished. Soon after I had been served with coffee, 
 which was as bitter as wormwood, I rose, saying* 
 to the Bey that I did not wish to trouble the 
 ladies any long-er, being* in fact anxious to bring* 
 this verj'- unsatisfactory visit to a speedy end. 
 
 When I was ag"ain alone with my husband, I 
 asked myself if I had any rig*ht to feel ang-ry, or 
 even anno3Td at the cool reception these ladies 
 gave mej placing* myself in their position, I 
 thoug-ht that I had reason to be surprised rather 
 that they had abstained from absolute rudeness 
 towards me, and had preserved at least the forms 
 of politeness. 
 
 Should we like our husbands to receive ladies 
 in their own apartments, and when it pleases them, 
 only to bring' those visitors for a quarter of an 
 hour to see us, talking' with them all the time in 
 a lang'uag'e of which we do not understand a word. 
 
CO^SSTANTINOPLE. 117 
 
 and then leading- us ag*ain alone, locked up, a prey 
 to jealousy and envy ? Keally one need not be 
 a Turk, under such circumstances to feel tortured 
 b}^ those ug'ly passions. Ah, I can forgive almost 
 anything' to the Turks : I will not condemn 
 them for havino- erased the sig^n of the cross from 
 the portals of Santa Sophia, for having- made a 
 powder mag*azine of the Parthenon, or for having 
 slaug'htered the Christians; but one thing" I cannot 
 forg'ive that they consign their own women to 
 a life of idleness, ig'norance, and immorality, 
 and to a premature death. For Turkish women, 
 ■\\ ho were healthy, strong* girls at twelve 3'ears 
 of ag-e when they still enjoyed some libert}^, die 
 by hundreds of rapid consumption between the 
 ag*e of eig-hteen and thirty, in consequence of 
 this unnatural, unhealthy mode of life. 1 advise 
 all ladies that g-o to Constantinople, especially if 
 they are under thirty years, (which however was 
 not the case with me), and g'ood looking-, (and 
 what woman under thirty does not think herself 
 so), if they wish to visit a Harem, to do so in 
 company of a lady who can speak Turkish, and 
 thus serve as an interpreter. They will he more 
 likely to be received kindly by the Turkish Avomen, 
 who will enter more freely into conversation with 
 them if the husband be not the interpreter. 
 
118 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 So poor in attractions for us was Constantinople 
 in spite of the prodigious riches with which na- 
 ture has endov/ed it, that we thoug-ht a fortnight 
 too much to spend there. One fine morning- there- 
 fore, we took the steamboat for Brussa, to which 
 place we had a pressing* invitation from an amiable 
 and hospitable German family, residing- there. 
 
 Our boat, which had left Constantinople at eig*ht 
 o'clock, arrived at Modag-na towards two in the 
 afternoon, and Ave found a carriag-e waiting* for us, 
 which after shaking* us about like refractory cream 
 that is to be turned into butter, set us down with a 
 headache and backache at Brussa. But the next 
 morning* these ills had passed, and then I enjoyed 
 my stay there so much, that I count the few days at 
 Brussa among* the pleasantest of my journey. 
 
 Brussa, the ancient capital of Turke}^, lies in a 
 fertile plain at the foot of Mount Olympus, which 
 rises stately and imposing* out of the plain. The 
 town is of a thoroug-h Turkish character. The 
 houses are all of wood, the streets narrow, but 
 they are cleaner than those of any other Turkish 
 town I saw , and there are fine Mosques with 
 eleg'ant minarets. The Mosque of Sultan Ma- 
 homet, standing- on a hill, especially pleased me, 
 on account of its lovely situation. The little outer 
 court with its fountain, ^^•hich for the purpose of 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 119 
 
 ablution^ is found before every Mosque, shaded by 
 noble old trees, is one of the most lovely spots I 
 saw. It is cool, shady and quiet in the extreme. 
 In Brussa the Turks still wear the real ancient 
 costume; the larg-e turban, the long- dolman, 
 trimmed with fur, the wide Mameluke pantaloons, 
 the broad scarf, and rich arms. 
 
 Our ascent of the first plateau of Mount Olym- 
 pus was splendid, at least so I thoug-ht, Avhen I 
 was safely down ag'ain. Till then, I confess, I did 
 not find it quite so pleasant. Althoug-h I had be- 
 come somewhat accustomed to bad roads on oiu* 
 excursions in Crete, I still thoug-ht those of Mount 
 013'mpus very terrible. They are narrow paths, 
 fearfully steep, rocky and stony, leading- often 
 along- precipices, or throug-h thick woods, where the 
 branches gTOAv so low, that you are oblig'ed bring- 
 3'our head to a level with your horse's to keep it on 
 your shoulders. When I had g-one up a little wa}', 
 I did not wonder that our kind host and hostess, 
 M. and Mme. S — , had not accompanied usj 
 ver}^ few people would care to g'o up twice. Al- 
 thoug'h the view is splendid, it is obtained at a 
 g-reat sacrifice, and can be enj03'ed almost as T^'ell 
 from a lower point, which can be easily climbed 
 on foot. Mile. Lina the dauo-hter, and M. Charles 
 S — , the brother of our host, had however 
 
120 THREE MOiNTHS ABROAD. 
 
 joined us^ and here I found how true is Schiller's 
 word ; " Den schreckt der Berg- nicht, der darauf 
 g-eboreuj" for both seemed to mind the roads very 
 little, ivllle. Lina, every now and then, would 
 draw my attention to some particularly beautiful 
 view, which to look at from the g'iddy height we 
 rode along", made my head turn. I could do 
 nothing" but look at the road and my husband ; 
 trembling" lest horse and rider should g-o down 
 some terrible precipice, for the roads were some- 
 times such, that I thoug-ht a false step of the horse 
 would be immediate destruction of horse and rider. 
 Our guide was a terrible Turk, looking- as stern and 
 calm as fate, in which he, like all Turks, had no 
 doubt a blind faith. He took no more notice of 
 us than if we had been in London or anvwhere, 
 except behind him. I am persuaded if one or 
 tAvo of us had fallen, and broken our necks, he 
 would have taken no more notice, than he did of 
 the stones that the feet of our horses now and 
 then sent rolling- down the precipice. He rode a 
 wretched little horse, which besides himself, carried 
 our shawls and provisions, but he looked perfectly 
 at his ease. I suppose if he had broken his own 
 neck, he would have met the unalterable decree 
 of fate with the same stern, calm look. 
 
 But if I have not forg'otten the bad roads, I 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 131 
 
 remember also with pleasure, tlie pleasant lioiirs 
 we spent on the plateau^ from which rises the 
 snow-covered summit of the mountain. On the 
 plateau the snow lay in the shade of the trees, 
 while the loveliest Alpine flowers g'rew in the sun- 
 shhie; white and purple primroses, of a larg-e 
 size, pleased me especially. After we had rested, 
 we wandered about, and except for the snow and 
 the Alpine veg-etation, we might have forg-otten 
 that we were on a hig-h mountain, as there was 
 no view of the world below. Shortly before one 
 reaches the plateau, the view is splendid, extend- 
 ing over the mountains, the Lakes of Apollonia, 
 and Nicaea, the Gulph of Gimlek, the town of 
 Brussa, and the beautiful plain surrounding- 
 it. We saw, while we were on the plateau, a 
 large vulture, and in descending^ an eagle rose 
 slowly and majestically out of a deep ravine. 
 High up it soared, my eye followed it as long- 
 as it was visible, and I wished for " the wings of 
 an eaf»-le." AVe saw another interestino- sio-ht. 
 We passed through a burnt forest. All the large 
 trunks stood erect, but the bark had peeled off, 
 and they looked very sad in their nakedness. 
 
 But what I remember with the greatest pleasure 
 in thinking of Brussa, is the amiable flimily which 
 received us so kindly. Mme. S — , is one of 
 
122 THREE MONTHS ABROAD, 
 
 the most charmino- and amiable women I ever 
 had the g-ood fortune to become acquainted with. 
 Although hig-hly intellectual and accomplished, 
 she lives contentedly in what I should call 
 banishment^ entirely devoted to the superintend- 
 ence of her household;, and the education of her 
 daug'hters^ who seem worthy of such a mother. 
 Lina, the eldest, is in her simplicity and modesty 
 so fascinating'^ that my husband, who is not in the 
 habit of speaking- in a poetical style, did so in 
 speaking" of her, and called her " a violet," while I 
 thoug-ht her j^oung'er sister Annichen, very much 
 resembled the bright wild roses that g-row like 
 her, round the foot of Mount Olympus. 
 
 I remember also Avith pleasure, the family 
 of Mr. S — , the Eng-lish Consul at Brussa, in 
 whose house we dined, in company with his 
 daug-hter and son-in-law, the Consul of Bucharest. 
 That evening", while we talked in the drawing'-room 
 of Turner and Landseer, Buskin and Tenn3'son, 
 I would almost think m^'self in a London draw- 
 ing'-room. But at that moment I turned round 
 to the open window, and saw the stars shiiiino- 
 with Eastern splendour, and then I remembered 
 where I was. 
 
 I was quite sad when I took leave of M. 
 and Mme. S — and their daug"hters ; but sorrows 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 123 
 
 and jo^'s pass quicldy on a journe}-. When I had 
 mounted Mme. S — 's charmino- Httle horse she 
 kindly lent me, and was cantering' along- on our Avay 
 to Gimlek^ where we were to find a boat to take us 
 back to Constantinople, I felt all my spirits return. 
 We accomplished that journey, which usually takes 
 six hours, in four, althoug-h we rested twice, at a 
 little kind of caravansery, and had coffee. 
 
 Soon after our return from Brussa we left Con- 
 stantinople, and, if that only is well which ends 
 well, Constanthiople was not well, for g'oing* on 
 board the French steamer, which was to take 
 us to Messina, was even less agreeable than our 
 embarkation at Rettiino had been. I wished to 
 make a few trifling' purchases on my way down 
 to the embarcadair, and my husband therefore 
 proposed to take our lug'gag'e to the custom-house^ 
 and see it safely on board, while I should join 
 him under the escort of the drao-oman. AVhen 
 I g'ot into the boat I much reg-retted having* 
 quitted my husband, for the day being' windy 
 and squally, I found the sea ver}- rough. The 
 steamboat was far out, and the Avaves so hig'h, 
 that the spray quite wetted me, and I had not 
 the warm hand of my husband, but only the cold 
 wet board of the boat to chng' to. I was 
 frio'htened. Still this was nothinof to the terror 
 
124 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 I felt^ when at last safely on board the vessel I 
 found that the liig*g"ag"e had arrived, but not my 
 hubsand. 
 
 When he saw that the sea was roug-h, and 
 knowing- that I am of a timid disposition, he had 
 sent on the lug'g-ag'e^ thinking* he would try to find 
 me and take me on board himself. When I 
 heard this I was nearly in despair, however 
 ridiculous this may seem now. There was I in 
 the steamboat, and my husband still on shore. 
 With the strong' current and sea, the boat took 
 much lono-er time than usual. Mio-ht the steam- 
 boat not take me to Messina and leave him 
 behind ? Would he not, when he found I was 
 g-one, take one of those nutshells of a Kaik instead 
 of another boat, and be drowned ? for the Kaiks 
 are very dang-erous in roug'h weather. He 
 soon arrived, however, safely in a boat, and I, 
 immensely relieved, but cold and wet and shiver- 
 ing", went down into my cabin to chang-e my wet 
 thing's. While there I felt the machine begin to 
 work and the boat slowly moving'. I hastened 
 on deck. We were just turning* round the 
 Serag'lio Point, and even under the cold threaten- 
 ing sky that hung* over the town, it was a g'lorious 
 sig'ht. But I turned away from it without 
 regTet. It had interested, but not attracted me. 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE. 125 
 
 I did not wish for a palace on the Bosphorus, as 
 I had wished for a castle on the Rhine^ or a villa 
 on the Bay of Naples. Indeed, I think I would 
 rather live in a little cottage in an Eng-lish 
 villag-e, than inhabit one of the dreary palaces of 
 Stamboul. 
 
126 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. * 
 
 *' Land of the Sun ! where'er my footsteps roam, 
 My thoughts return to thee — thou art my 
 spirit's home." 
 
 J. H. Peingle. 
 
 And thus the days of Constantmople had g-one 
 by^ and we were on our voyag-e back, westward 
 ho ! The ship had spread its sails, and the fresh 
 north wind sped us on our way. The sea was 
 very rou^h ; but the movement of the ship, g'oing* 
 with the wind, was not unpleasant. 
 
 The second nig-ht of our voyage I slept very 
 soundly; the waves had rocked me to sleep. 
 Suddenl}^ I was roused by cannon shots, which 
 appeared to be fired-off close to my cabin-window, 
 and shook our vessel. I rose quickty, and found 
 that we had cast anchor in the harbour of Piroeus^ 
 which was full of men-of-war and other vessels 
 belonging- to different nations. All had hoisted 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 127 
 
 their fli>g"S, and the Greek vessels were cannonad- 
 ing-, for it was the 5th of May — King- Georg-e's 
 birthday. But I had no time to lose in looking" 
 at what was ffoino- on in the harbour of Piraeus, 
 for in a few hours our boat would leave for Mes- 
 sina, and I wanted to see Athens during- that 
 time. I am almost ashamed to say that we did 
 not stop a few days at Athens^ but there is only 
 one boat in the week that leaves Athens for Mes- 
 sina, and as we could not spare a week^ we had to 
 content ourselves with a few hours. But shall I 
 say the pleasure was not g-reat because it was 
 short ? Are not most of the g-reatest joys of life 
 counted by minutes and hours rather than by 
 weeks and months ? 
 
 It was a splendid morning-, full of clouds and 
 sunshine. The clouds huno- over the mountains, 
 but over head smiled the blue Ionian sky. What 
 a pleasant drive it was from Piroeus to the Acro- 
 polis. After the roads of Turkey it was a g-reat 
 pleasure to drive at a quick pace over a g'ood one- 
 The road was white and dusty, a true summer- 
 road, of which I am very fond. I should most 
 probably have liked it better, if the dust had not 
 been blown into our faces, but I Avas that morning- 
 not in a humour to find fliult with anything-. I 
 think, in spite of much that is attractive and 
 
128 THEEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 interesting"^ I was inwardly g-lad to be out of 
 Turkey^ and if ever I see it ag-ain it will not be 
 from choice. The road, after we had dri\en 
 throug'h some waste and barren land^ led through 
 cornfields, where the corn seemed almost rijDe; 
 throug'h hayfields and vineyards, which were 
 studded with olive and fruit trees. 
 
 Before I left Eng'landj the wife of a soldier, 
 who had accompanied her husband to the Crimean 
 Avar, told me that she had also been at Athens, and 
 that it was " not far from Greece." I found it, 
 however, farther from Piroeus than I expected. 
 It is an hour's sharp drive, and although the hour 
 passed pleasantty, it seemed long- • perhaps because 
 my wish to see the Acropolis was great. We 
 stopped, however, first before the Temple of 
 Theseus ; I had seen it at some distance from 
 the window of our carriage, and had admired the 
 grand and noble structure. When I saw it near 
 I found it was but small, and admired the art 
 that could make a comparatively small and very 
 simple building look so imposing. 
 
 A short walk brought us to the Acropolis, and 
 when the keeper unlocked the wooden gate, my 
 heart beat at the thought that I was in ancient 
 Greece. With a strangely solemn feeling I 
 ascended the steps of the Propylfea, and then I 
 
CONSTANTINOrLE TO FLORENCE. 129 
 
 found myself surrounded b}^ tlie g-lorious remains 
 of those noble works of art which, for simple 
 grandeur and beauty, are unsurpassed b}' any- 
 thing- the genius of man has since produced. 
 Through those noble columns I beheld the very 
 same features of land and sky on which the sages, 
 the orators, the artists of Greece had gazed. I 
 gathered a handful of flowers that grew among 
 the ruins. I picked up some tiny fragment of 
 marble, and looked at it with a feeling akin to that 
 with which a devout Roman Cathohc contem- 
 plates a relic of his patron saint. At the same 
 moment my foot stumbled against a broken piece 
 of a cannon-ball. And then I remembered that 
 the ^^ barbarous Turk," more than the ravages of 
 time, had changed these precious monuments of 
 ancient art into ruins ; that the Turks had made 
 a powder magazine of the Parthenon, which 
 exploded through a Venetian bomb, and destroyed 
 the Temple of Minerva. And I felt that the 
 Greeks were not to blame for hating them. 
 I felt as if I should have liked to pull down with 
 my own hands the rude, ugly remains of the 
 walls with which they have disfigured the temples 
 of the gods. I felt also very indignant against 
 the Venetians who had no small share in the 
 destruction of those art treasures. Thev should 
 
 K 
 
130 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 have known better than to commit such sacrileg-e. 
 And shall I not say that Lord Elg-m^ too^ com- 
 mitted a gTeat wrong' in carrying* off those marbles 
 that still adorned the Parthenon ? There, under 
 the blue sky of Greece, was their home, and they 
 ouo-ht to have remained there. It is true enouo-h 
 that now they can be seen by " the million " that 
 visit the dim rooms of the British Museum ; but 
 he has for ever robbed those that mig'ht have seen 
 them where they were first placed, of one of the 
 g-reatest enjoyments art can give to those that 
 love the beautiful. 
 
 When we left the fine harbour of Piraeus, the 
 Captain pointed out to us the Bay of Salamis, the 
 Throne of Xerxes, the Tomb of Themistocles, 
 and other famous and interesting- spots; but I 
 listened only with half attention, for my e3^es 
 tried still to disting-uish the Acropolis, and I cast 
 many a "long, ling'ring' look behind ;" steam 
 and wind, however, carried me quickly away, 
 and soon I saw nothing* but the bare, cheerless 
 coast of Greece. 
 
 Towards evening* the movement of the ship 
 became more violent ; the sea rolled in larg-e 
 foaming* waves, and when towards nine o'clock we 
 turned Cape St. Angelo, we had some very heavy 
 gusts of wind, winch produced such rolling* of 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 131 
 
 the boatj that I held to the bench in order to 
 keep ni}^ seat. It was a g-rand sight, but I have 
 no Kking- for that kind of g-randeur, so I stumbled 
 down stairs as well as I could, in order to see no 
 more of it. 
 
 On awaking' next morning-, I found, to my 
 g'reat satisfaction, that the ship moved along' with 
 a motion hardly perceptible, the sky was almost 
 cloudless, and the air mild and balmy. That day 
 passed pleasantly-. I wrote my letter to my 
 children, read a Waverley Novel, . and watched 
 the poor little swallows and turtledoves, that came 
 with weary wing- to rest on the masts of our ship. 
 One was so tired that a boy belonging to the 
 crew cauo'ht the little wanderer in his hand. We 
 gave it some food and water and a free passag-e 
 to Sicily, where it was set free. 
 
 I awoke early next morning-, and peeping- 
 throug-h my cabin window, saw in the rays of the 
 risins: sun the coast of Calabria. " Ah mio Lindoro 
 presto vedremo I'ltalia." I sang-, and awoke my 
 husband. AVe were soon on deck. The sea was 
 calm, and the air as soft and balmy as the day 
 before. The coast of Calabria lay before us, and a 
 little towards the left towered Mount Etna, from 
 whose snow-covered crater arose a white column 
 of smoke, as if Nature wns bring-ing- there her 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 morning sacrifice. As we neared the coast the sea 
 became enlivened with boats, whose white sails 
 were reflected in the mirror of the calm sea. We 
 gradually came so close to the coast of Calabria, 
 that we could disting'uish houses, trees, gardens, 
 and even human beings and cattle. Through my 
 opera glass I distinguished the very colours of 
 the gaily dressed peasant women that were going 
 to mass, for it was Sunday, and about church 
 time. 
 
 The first place at which I looked with special 
 interest was Milito, the little village where Gari- 
 baldi ran his ship ashore, when he came to conquer 
 Naples, and was pursued by Neapolitan men-of- 
 war. The Captain that pointed the place out to us, 
 told us that there were still some debris left of the 
 vessel that brought the deliverer of Southern Italy 
 to the shores of Calabria. Then came Eeggio, the 
 Neapolitan fortress which the brave Garibaldians 
 took under the command of our friend Colonel 
 Chiassi, and a little further on lay Aspramonte. 
 What a story those three places tell ! I looked 
 with a feeling of deep sadness at the mountains 
 over which the flying Garibaldians had carried 
 their wounded General, and thought of Columbus 
 brought back to Spain in chains, of poor John 
 Huss burned at the stake, of Gahleo lano'uishino- 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 133 
 
 in the prisons of the Inquisition, and how tlie 
 ■v\'orld has ever cried ^^ crucify him" ag'ainst its 
 benefactors. 
 
 The coast of Calabria looked cheerful and well 
 cultivated j the mountains have wild strang-e 
 shapes, but at their feet are orang-e groves, and 
 mulberry plantations, with here and there, grow- 
 ing- in the midst of the bright g-reen, the sombre 
 folia g"e of the ohve. I observed many new com- 
 fortable looking- houses, with larg-e windows and 
 g-reen shutters, which I hope speak of an improved 
 state of the country, and which contrast favourably 
 with the old dwelling's of the Italian peasantry. 
 The latter are g-enerally very wretched looking- 
 places, with small dismal looking- holes instead 
 of windows. 
 
 We stayed a day at Messina, and profited by 
 it to look at the town, the churches, etc. How 
 everything' is relative in this world. Had I 
 g'one to Messina after visiting- Florence and 
 Naples, instead of before, I should most likely 
 have thouo'ht it a very insio-nificant lookino* 
 place. But after Constantinople and Smyrna, 
 it looked a town of palaces. The nice pave- 
 ment, the fine larg-e stone houses, with their 
 balconies before every window, on which dark 
 g'irls in g-ay Sunday dress stood among- liowers. 
 
134 THREE MONTHS ABROAD, 
 
 It looked quite grand^ and very pleasant. The 
 churches are rich in precious marbles and g'ild- 
 ing's^ but built in a very deg enerate st^de of archi- 
 tecture. The pictures with which they are deco- 
 rated g-enerally represent tortured saints^ and are 
 even less satisfactory than the building's them- 
 selves. I wanted to see a little of the countr}^, and 
 we therefore took a drive. I saw however nothino* 
 of it, except a dusty road between hig-h walls, 
 which seemed to enclose orchards, for the branches 
 of orang-e, fig", mulberry, and olive trees, were 
 visible above the walls. I cannot tell whether all 
 the roads around Messina are like this one, or if 
 our coachman was to blame for his choice. We 
 found it difficult to understand the Sicilian 
 dialect^ and almost required an interpreter to 
 translate it into Italian. 
 
 We left Messina the followino;' afternoon. 
 The weather was still calm and beautiful 5 
 the sky cloudless, and the sea shining* in the 
 sunlig'ht, as calm as a lake. A short time after 
 we had left Messina, we passed Scylla and 
 Charybdis, the first only discernible by a very 
 slig-ht movement in the water, the latter a rather 
 prominent rock on the opposite coast. It must 
 have been very different in the time of Homer, I 
 should think, for even the boldest imagination 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 135 
 
 could not see in the present Sc3^11a and Clia- 
 rybdis, anything- hke what Homer describes 
 it to have been. As for Scliiller's beautiful de- 
 scription of it, in his ballad " The Diver/' it is 
 purely imng-inative, for Schiller never visited Italy. 
 The next day we passed Stromboli, an island 
 formed by a larg-e volcano rising* out of the sea. 
 The mountain, a g-rand and imposing- cone, was in 
 a somewhat active state, much more so than Etna. 
 I was sorr}^ we did not see it b}' night, for the 
 thick column of smoke that rises out of it, then 
 looks red and fiery. It was however out of sig-ht 
 long" before evening", but there were other lights 
 burning* through the balmy nig-ht, and thi*owing* 
 rays of silver lig-ht across the i)lacid waters, 
 Hesperus and " C3aithia's shining* orb." It was 
 past midnight before we went down stairs, and 
 we had slept but few hours, when the bustle 
 and noise that always follow the arrival of the 
 boat in port, awoke me. When I got on deck, 
 the sun was rising* over Naples. I saw the 
 Bay, and Vesuvius and Capri. All these 
 .wonderful names were no longer empty sounds, 
 but had become a reality, and I rejoiced in that 
 thought. 
 
 I have not spoken of any of my traAolling com- 
 panions since I left Constanlinuplc. The reason 
 
136 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 is, that the}^ hardly deserved any special notice. 
 They were such people as any one is likely to 
 meet. Several English families, that had wintered 
 abroad, and returned most of them with coughs 
 and sore throats. Some of the girls were very 
 prett}^, perhaps all the more so because the}^ looked 
 so fragile, it seemed one cold East wind would 
 blow the pretty blossoms away. Then there was 
 a rich Jewess from Constantinople, with three 
 daughters, who were all " musical young ladies." 
 They were going to some European watering- 
 place, not for their health though, I should think, 
 for they looked as strong and hearty as one could 
 wish. The Messageries Imperiales steamers are 
 unfortunately provided with a j^iano, which I 
 consider a most inconsiderate arrangement on 
 the part of the Company j for I had to hsten 
 for several hours daily to the performances of 
 these young ladies, inlaying either singly or in 
 couples. The nuisance became almost intoler- 
 able, when they were joined at Messina by a 
 musical young- gentleman, an officer from Malta, 
 who, between the fantasias and sonatas of the 
 young ladies, treated us to a succession of quad- 
 rilles and polkas. It broke into and spoiled the 
 calm enjoyment of one of the most beautiful 
 moonlio-ht-nio'hts on the Mediterranean, when 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLOKENCE. 137 
 
 nature seemed so hushed and stilly that I iu- 
 vokmtarily spoke in whispers. 
 
 There were also two interesting* hone3'^-moon 
 couples on board : one of them always sitting- in 
 out-of-the-wa}^ corners^ so that perhaps I mig-ht 
 have been altogether unaware of their presence^ 
 so little were they in any body's wa}', had they 
 not turned up reg'ularly at meal times. The other 
 couple never turned up at all^ at least not the lady. 
 She w^as very poorly, and in fair or foul weather 
 alwa^'s lying* down in the Ladies' Saloon ; to the 
 open door of which the devoted young* husband 
 came ever so many times a day, offering' lemonade, 
 coffee, and other refreshments to the sufferer, who 
 however seemed unable to relish any thino;-. 
 
 And I must not forget Miss L — , because of 
 the sing'ular adventure that happened to her. She 
 was of middle age and rather delicate constitution, 
 had spent the winter with some friends at Malta, 
 and was now on her way home. We had been 
 neig"hbours at dinner, and exchang-ed a few words. 
 Early in the evening*, after we had left Messina, 
 where she came on board, she came to me in g-reat 
 ag-itation, and asked my advice under what Avere 
 certainty trying* circumstances. The stewardess 
 in showing* her to her cabin, had said that there 
 would be but one other occupant, viz. a ^'jeune 
 
138 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 demoiselle." How surprised and horrified therefore 
 was the poor lady Avhen^ wishing* to retire early^ 
 she had gone into her cabin, and saw standing- 
 before the other berth a pair of man's boots, and 
 a man lying- dressed on it, who had his face covered 
 with a silk handkerchief. She rushed back and 
 told the stewardess that there was a man in her 
 cabin. The stewardess however replied g*ood 
 humouredly, and with a smiling- face : " Non, 
 Madame, ce n'est pas un homme, mais une jeune 
 demoiselle noire qui s'habille comme qa." She told 
 her at the same time that she was sorry there was 
 no empty berth in any other cabin, as she seemed to 
 dislike sleeping- with the "jeune demoiselle noire.'^ 
 At this information, the slight knowledge of the 
 French language which Miss L — possessed, 
 seemed quite to forsake her, she found no words 
 to reply, and came in despair to me, as the only 
 person with whom she had exchanged a few words 
 on board. " What am I to do ? " so the poor thing- 
 concluded her story, " I cannot sleep in the Sa- 
 loon because it is full of gentlemen, and to remain 
 on deck would be sure to make me ill, as I am 
 very susceptible to colds." I took her to my hus- 
 band, as the tribunal to which I appeal in difficult 
 cases, and he at once reassured her by his promise 
 that he would take care she should not sleep in 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 139 
 
 the same room with the black person, who tra- 
 velled mider the name of a "jeune demoiselle." 
 He went straight to the Captain, and what the 
 stewardess said she could not do, the Captain ar- 
 rang-ed. She slept comfortably in the same room 
 with some other ladies, who neither wore male 
 attire, nor "the shadowy livery of a warmer sun.'' 
 Her g-ratitude to my husband was boundless^ 
 and she remained my constant companion till we 
 reached Naples, where we landed, while she pro- 
 ceeded to Genoa and Marseilles. We saw the 
 "jeune demoiselle/' as we called the black person, 
 a g-ood deal on deck and at meals. Miss L — 
 always kept as far as possible away from her, and 
 I did not wonder at it. In lookino* at the African 
 I felt more than ever, that, althoug-h in theory 
 the Americans may be to blame for their ma- 
 nifest dislike to the NegToes ; in practice I should 
 find it very difficult not to do as they do, and 
 avoid any intercourse with them. And I admired 
 more than ever the heavenly kindness of Mrs. 
 Beecher Stow's little Eva, who broke her heart 
 at the fate of this race. I forg-et at this moment, 
 if, according- to Mr. Darwin's theory, we have a 
 common orig-in with them, or are descended from 
 them. In the latter case I hope nobody will ever 
 ask me the question Farinato addresses to Dante 
 
140 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 in the Inferno : " Chi fur i mag-g-ior tuoi " — as I 
 should be rather ashamed to mention these an- 
 cestors. 
 
 Goethe quotes Pliny's description of Naples^ 
 and what Goethe did I surely may be allowed to 
 do. Instead, therefore^ of trying- to describe 
 Naples myself, I will translate what he has 
 quoted : " So happ}^, lovely, blessed is that region, 
 that one perceives Nature has rejoiced in her 
 work there. Such vital air, such continued salutary 
 clemency of the sk}', such fruitful fields, such 
 sunny hills, such innoxious woods, such shady 
 g-roves, such useful forests, such airy mountains, 
 such far-extending* cornfields, such an abundance 
 of vines and olive-trees, such fine wool of the 
 sheep, such fat necks of the oxen, so many lakes, 
 such an abundance of irrigating* rivers and 
 streams, so many seas, so many harbours ! The 
 earth opens her bosom everywhere to commerce, 
 and, almost anxious to assist man, stretches her 
 arms into the sea." After reading* such a descrip- 
 tion, the well-known " Vedi Napoli e poi mori," 
 does not seem very exaggerated j nor when 
 Goethe writes of his father : " It is said that he 
 who has seen a ghost can never more be jo3^ful, 
 so on the contrary one might have said of him 
 (his father) that he could never become quite 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 141 
 
 unhapp}^, because he thoug-lit himself alwa3's back 
 again at Nai)les.'' That the days I spent there 
 brought me enjoyment and dehg-ht^ every one 
 will easily suppose. People always call Paris a 
 " g'ay " place, and such no doubt it is, still 
 thousands and thousands lead a dreary and dis- 
 mal life there, which seems hardly jiossible in 
 Naples. Nature supplies all the necessaries of 
 life in such abundance that even poverty ceases 
 to cause real suffering. The chmate is so mild 
 that the want of what we should call indispensable 
 clothing- brings no discomfort ', while a plate of 
 macaroni, a dried fish, or a slice of melon seems 
 to be all the food the}" require. The}'- are exceed- 
 ingly fond of music and dancing, and the Neapo- 
 litan airs are lively and pretty, and pleased me 
 more than any I have heard in Italy. The 
 performers Avho sing before the hotel, the cafFes 
 and restaurants, and accompany their songs with 
 the guitar and the liveliest expression and g-esti- 
 culations, look delightfully merry and cunning-. 
 Many of them improvise in a ready, pretty 
 manner. AVho can be sad and morose in a place 
 like this, where everybody looks smiling, g-ood- 
 natured and contented ? To be merry, joyful and 
 happy lies in the air there, and is contagious like 
 an epidemic. And I do not think the expression 
 
142 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 of g-ood-nature and contentment one sees in 
 almost every face, belies their feeling-s. The 
 Neajiolitans appeared to be very kind-hearted, 
 and to delight in giving- pleasure. We received, 
 durino" our short stay at Naples, several marks of 
 good will from them, of which I remember 
 one especially with pleasure. We had stopped, 
 on our way back from a short excursion to 
 Posilipo, at a pretty restaurant, where we took 
 some refreshments on an open platform overlook- 
 ing the sea. AVhile sitting there, and looking at 
 the Bay and all the beauty surrounding it, a boat 
 passed with a merry party in it, four of whom 
 were amateur musicians. They played on two 
 guitars, a flute, and a trombone. As soon as 
 they saw us they stopped the boat right under 
 our platform and played a pretty Neapolitan air, 
 with the simple intention of giving us pleasure. 
 When they liad finished they greeted us and left. 
 We returned the kind salute, and hstened to their 
 "renewed strain" till it became indistinct, and 
 the accompanying sounds of the trombone only 
 reached us. 
 
 After the great variety of Eastern costume 
 the dress of the Neapolitans looked rather tame. 
 The dress of the women is neat and clean, their 
 full black hair is well plaited and shines hke 
 
CONSTANTINOrLE TO FLORENCE. 143 
 
 satin • but the}^ wear nothing" that can be called 
 a costume, and I found even crinoline introduced 
 to a o-reat extent. If it were not for the dress of 
 the different orders of monks and nuns^ of boatmen 
 and fishermen, and here and there a contadina in 
 her pretty dress, the crowd would be not much 
 more picturesque than an Eng'lish one, from 
 which however it would be easily distino-uished 
 by the darker complexion of the people, the 
 animated features, and the lively gesticulations 
 with which they accompany all they say. 
 
 We were at Naples the week after the first 
 Sunday in May, which is one continual festival in 
 honour of St. Gennaro, the g-reat patron saint of 
 Naples. Thus I had an opportunity of witness- 
 ing- the celebrated miracle of liquefaction of the 
 blood of the saint, which is kept in two phials in 
 the chapel " del Tesoro " adjoining* the cathedral, 
 for the blood liquefies daily during the festival 
 when high mass is celebrated. The chapel is 
 wonderfully magnificent ; the three altars with 
 their ornaments, and the statues of more than 
 forty saints, being all of silver. The most 
 magnificent of all is, of course, that of Saint 
 Gennaro standing on the high altar, whose 
 mitre of gold is covered with precious stones of 
 great size, and who wears round his neck enough 
 
144 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 ornaments to deck a whole crowd of queens and 
 duchesses. They are the g'ifts of different king's 
 and queens of Naples. Napoleon I., who 
 stripped so many churches of their treasures^ 
 made a present to this all-powerful saint^ and 
 Yictor Emanuel seems to have thouo-ht that in 
 this respect he too must follow the example of his 
 predecessors^ for the saint wears two mag-nificent 
 crosses of amethysts and diamonds^ the gift of the 
 Re Galantuomo. My husband did not approve 
 of this, and even expressed a wish that Garibaldi 
 had melted down the g-old and silver saints, and 
 invested the mone}^ so obtained in schools for the 
 people, and other public and charitable institutions. 
 
 But who can tell if even Garibaldi, the idol of the 
 people of Naples, and the saint they perhaps most 
 adore after St. Gennaro, could have done this. 
 The priest to whom I expressed my astonishment, 
 that the treasures of this chapel had escaped the 
 vicissitudes of so many revolutions and wars, said 
 it was evidentl}^ a miracle wroug'ht by the saint. 
 
 If the great St. Gennaro has as yet escaped 
 peculation, the common little saints that used to 
 stand at every street corner of Naples, have not 
 fared so well of late. They were all of them re- 
 moved in one nig-ht, by order of General La 
 Marmora, then Governor of Naples. The people, 
 
CONSTANTINOrLE TO FLORENCE. 145 
 
 especially the women, became clamorous and 
 nois}' on the discovery next morning-, but were 
 told that the Governor was so fond of the Saints, 
 that he wished to take better care of them. He 
 had therefore removed the Saints from their un- 
 comfortable quarters in the street, to snug-^er 
 ones in the Churches and Convents, where they 
 would be much better off. This entirely satisfied 
 the crowd. 
 
 The removal of the Saints, and that of the 
 pig's of St. Antonio, which Garibaldi effected, has 
 much chaTig-ed the appearance of the streets of 
 Naples. The pig-s of the Convent of St. Antonio, 
 that used to run about in the principal streets of 
 Naples, even in the fine Strada Toledo, and which 
 lived upon public charity, were a terrible nuisance. 
 The ig-noi-ant populace held these pig-s of the holy 
 fathers in g-reat veneration, and fed them well, and 
 I have been assured on g-ood authority, that if a 
 man had with his cart or carriag-e run over a child 
 in the streets, he mig-ht possibly have escaped un- 
 punished, but had he hurt a pig- in that way, the 
 infuriated mob would almost have killed him. 
 
 The mornino- 1 went to hear Hio-h Mass in the 
 Chapel del Tesoro, it presented an animated and 
 magnificent spectacle. The windows were dark- 
 ened by crimson blinds, to keep the strong- sunlig'ht 
 
 L 
 
146 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 out, and the chapel was lighted up by numberless 
 candles, the hg-ht of which was reflected by 
 the silver ornaments that deck the whole chapel. 
 The way up to the altar was lined Avith soldiers, 
 I suppose to prevent disturbances in the eager 
 crowd that long-ed to kiss the liquefied blood. 
 
 The people walked up in g-ood order to the 
 altar, but on the sides down which they returned, 
 there was a g'ood deal of squeezing" and pushing. 
 The priest that held the little glass case, con- 
 taining the two phials in his hand, and who 
 showed them to the congregation, shook the 
 liquefied blood about, and thrust the case into the 
 people's faces with so rudely irreverent a manner, 
 that I, who am no believer in the miracle, felt 
 shocked j what impression it made upon the 
 other people I cannot tell. They looked however 
 quite contented and pleased. They were mostly 
 priests and nuns, and persons of the lower orders, 
 but I observed also some who appeared to belong- 
 to the upper classes. 
 
 While the crowd kissed the blood of the Saint 
 the choir sang a most beautiful mass, and the rich 
 voices with which bountiful Nature has endowed 
 so many of her children under the blue sky of 
 Naples, filled the chapel with harmony, and made 
 the chords of my heart vibrate in unison. There 
 
CONSTAWTINOrLE TO FLORENCE. 147 
 
 was a bass voice among" them that reminded me 
 of Lablache. 
 
 On the evening' of the same day I had witnessed 
 the miracle of the Hquefaction in the Chapel del 
 Tesoro, the son of the famous conjuror Bosco 
 repeated the trick before the boxes crowded with 
 eleo-ant ladies at the Theatre St. Carlo, but I did 
 not g'o to see it. Ever since I am out of my teens, 
 I no long-er care for conjuring- tricks; besides I had 
 seen it done so well in the morning*. I was how- 
 ever told that the trick in the evening- succeeded 
 quite as well^ and was repeated several times be- 
 fore a smiling" and applauding- audience. I visited 
 most of the other principal churches of Naples. 
 The Church of St. Severo, is full of fine modern 
 statues. One representing- a man who is trying- to 
 free himself from the meshes of a net in which he 
 is entang'led, and which is called " the snares of 
 the world," is very clever. Another one called 
 " Modesty" is g-raceful, but as a representation 
 of modesty, mig"ht have a somewhat thicker veil. 
 At the Museo Borbonico, now called " Reale," 
 I admired some of the finest Greek marbles I have 
 ever seen. The g'rand Torro Farnese^ the wonder- 
 ful Hercules, of the same famous collection, a 
 Flora, that looks something' between a Juno and 
 a Yenus, stately and g-raceful at the same time, 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 the most charming- representation of virgin youth 
 I have ever seen. There is a whole room full of 
 Yenuses^ of which one is certainly very beautiful, 
 although apparently too conscious of her charms 
 to please me very much. 
 
 " I must g-o up Mount Vesuvius before we leave 
 Naples/' I said to my husband, and he, not less 
 desu'ous than myself to visit a volcano, set out 
 with me early the next morning", for the ascent 
 of the mountain. 
 
 I know it is considered a beautiful sight to see 
 the sun rise from the top of Vesuvius, but as it 
 / rises in the middle of May at a most unreasonably 
 early hour, we despaired of g-etting* to the top 
 before the sun, so we let the g"od travel alone for 
 several hours, and did not leave our hotel in the 
 Chiatamone till a little after six o'clock. An 
 hour's quick drive brought us to Eesina. Our 
 way to the latter led us through the village of St. 
 Giovanni, where one sees nothing but macaroni 
 and pigs. Most of the houses are small macaroni 
 manufjictories, and the fi'esh macaroni are on long 
 sticks, hung out into the street to dry. Most of the 
 manufacturers keep a pig^ which is tied to some 
 post in the street, not far from the door of the house, 
 or if a very tame, good little pig', runs about free. 
 
 After St. Giovanni, we passed through Portici, 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 149 
 
 the home of Masaiiiello and his poor sister Fenella. 
 Here there are delig'htful villas, with g-ardens 
 slopiiio' down to the bay, and close to it lies 
 Resina, where the ascent of the mountain on 
 horseback beo-ins. There used to be a fine car- 
 riag-e road as far as St. Salvator, Avhich is about 
 an hour's ride up the mountain, but the lava 
 streams of the g-reat eruption of 1859, have en- 
 tirely destroyed it. We had not been more than 
 ten minutes on our horses, when we came to these 
 formidable traces of the last g"reat eruption of the 
 volcano. In broad thick masses the lava had 
 flowed down the sides of the mountain into the 
 blooming- orchards and fruitful vineyards, to which 
 the dark, dead rivers of stone presented a striking- 
 contrast. 
 
 These lava streams have a strange and diverse 
 appearance. Sometimes the surface is roug-hly 
 even and resembles immense masses of curiously 
 twisted burnt trunks, and branches of trees. At 
 other places it is more like a roug-hly ploughed field 
 that by a sharj) frost has become still more broken 
 up than by the ploug'li. Between the lava are 
 laro-e beds of ashes and cinders. 
 
 The ride to the foot of the cone, which lasted 
 about an hour and a half, presented no difficulty, 
 for the road rises very gradually and is broad, 
 
150 THEEE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 and lava presents a rou^h surface on whicli the 
 horses' feet do not slip. The cone must be dimbed 
 on footj and is a very tmno- piece of work even 
 with the assistance of two g'uides^ the one to pull 
 you up with the help of a band fastened round 
 his waist, the other pushing you up by placing" 
 one of his hands ag-ainst your back. As climb- 
 ing" does not easily tire me I wanted to walk 
 up, to which my husband however objected; 
 so I had to sit down in a chair in which the 
 g"uides carried me up. One g'uide in front held 
 the two poles which were fastened to the chair in 
 his hands, two men behind carried each one 
 on his shoulder, and thus kept the chair in a 
 horizontal position. It must be very hard work 
 indeed to carry any body for an hour up so steep 
 an ascent ; for my husband, although he was 
 assisted in the already described manner by two 
 guides, found it very tiring" indeed. The men did 
 it however cheerfully^ and with less appearance 
 of fatigue than I had expected. When we had 
 reached the top, and my husband and the men 
 had rested awhile, we walked to the brink of the 
 crater, and now I saw, with my own eyes, the 
 strange and grand spectacle to the description of 
 which I remember to have listened with almost 
 incredulous wonder when a little school girl, and 
 
CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE. 151 
 
 Mliich to see I liad long-ed for ever since we had 
 passed Mount Etna and Stromboli. 
 
 The volcano was in a very fair state of activity. 
 Thick volumes of smoke issued from it, and about 
 every two minutes there Avas a loud report as of 
 thunder or cannon, and then flames appeared, 
 and ashes and stones were ejected flying" high up 
 into the air, and falling' down with a ratthng noise. 
 It must not however be thoug'ht that we stood 
 close to the terrible opening- out of which rose the 
 flames and smoke. Within the large crater from 
 the brink of which we witnessed the spectacle, 
 rises, what looks a Vesuvius on a smaller scale, 
 and on the top of this, which is however below 
 the level of the place where we stood, is the 
 real crater. It is very fascinating- to watch the 
 eruptions, and we found it difficult to turn our 
 backs upon it, and look a little at the scene around 
 us in the beautiful world below. 
 
 The top of Vesuvius looks terribly drear}^ 5 the 
 dread abode of horror and destruction. Nothing- 
 but the dark lava stones and ashes all around- 
 There is of course no trace of animal or vegetable 
 hfe visible anywhere. The sad monotony is how- 
 ever a little relieved by the different colours of 
 the lava and the stones , especially by the bright 
 yellow of the sulphur one sees in large quantities. 
 
152 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 This hideous imao-e of death and destruction rises 
 abruptly out of Elysian plains and vallies ; its 
 foot is washed by the azure sea dotted with emerald 
 islands, and above smiles a limpid sky. 
 
 The view is very extensive, because Vesuvius 
 is a mountain of considerable altitude ; yet as it 
 rises so abruptly out of the plain and sea, the view 
 has the distinctness of no g'reat distance, which 
 adds much to its charm. It is lovety on all sides ; 
 but from the point that overlooks Naples, the Bay 
 and its lovely shores, the Mediterranean, and the 
 islands of Capri, Ischia and Procida,it is deservedly 
 considered one of the most lovely in the world. 
 
 In g"oing- up the volcano the guides had chosen 
 a stony, roug"h stream of lava, which affords a 
 safe footing- • in g'oing- down, on the contrary, they 
 chose a bed of fine cinders and ashes, and ran or 
 slid rapidly down. "VVhat it had taken us an hour 
 to ascend, my husband descended in six minutes, 
 and I, chair and all, took only about double that 
 time. It is a very dusty affair, the black ashes 
 whirl up under the feet of the men, and envelope 
 one completely. Never was a tepid bath more 
 refreshing- than the one I enjoyed in the evening' 
 after I had come home from ni}^ visit to Vesuvius. 
 
 The g'uides had pointed out to us the lava streams 
 of the different eruptions, and the immense stones 
 
CONSTANTINOrLE TO FLORENCE. 153 
 
 and pieces of rock \\lncli were ejected by the 
 volcano in 1822. In lookino- at these formidable 
 pieces of rock, of which some were at a g'reat 
 distance from the crater, one g'ets an idea of the 
 power that is working- within it, and the fate of 
 Herculaneum and Pompeii becomes intelligible. 
 The latter place we had visited the da}^ before. 
 All I felt there is expressed in those few words : 
 " Sic transit o-loria miindi." But never before had 
 I realized so fully what the instability of all 
 earthly greatness means. In this city of the dead 
 I felt far, far removed from the present, and my 
 mind for a moment seemed to realize what the 
 future really means. A time, when the lovely city 
 I had just left would have disappeared from the 
 face of the earth, and its old site be a matter of 
 doubt and uncertainty, when the lang-uag'e of 
 Dante would survive perhaps in his book only, 
 when the ver}- features of sea and mountain around 
 me mig'ht be chang-ed j for had not eighteen hundred 
 3'ears ago, the waves of the gulf washed the walls 
 of Pompeii that now hes far inland, and another 
 Vesuvius burned than the one we ascended ? And 
 I saw A\ith my mind's eye the proud city across 
 the sea, which I had left a few months before, as 
 Macaulay, thinking of a time to come, describes it, 
 a heap of ruins j and a traveller in a strange dress. 
 
154 THREE MO^"T^S ABROAD. 
 
 speaking" a lang-uag-e which is not 3^et formed, 
 sitting- on a broken arch of London Bridg*e^ me- 
 ditating* hke me at that moment on the truth of 
 the words, " Sic transit g-loria mundi." We did 
 not, as Murray recommends, enter Pompeii by the 
 Strada dei Sepolcri^ but throug'h the Porta del 
 Mare, and I hked it better, as the Strada de 
 Sepolcri forms the fittest finale of the town. 
 
 I have heard of people who have been dis- 
 appointed in Pompeii, others have said the same 
 of the Acropolis. I cannot understand such 
 people. They must be more dead than the very 
 stones there, for they spoke to me, and what they 
 said moved me deepl}^ When I first entered the 
 city of the dead, I felt strang-e and bewildered hke 
 in a dream. Sm'ely ^^ realit}^ is strang-er than 
 fiction." What can be more strang-e than that the 
 sun should shine ag'ain into the streets, and hg-ht 
 up the painted walls and mosaic pavement of 
 Pompeii. And yet so it is. That very old Pompeii, 
 that lay for nearl}^ eig'hteen centuries buried, is 
 risen ag-ain. We walk throug'h its streets, and 
 tread the very stones worn out by the footsteps of 
 Boman citizens, and by the wheels of their chariots. 
 
 We see their houses, their temples, their judg- 
 ment halls, their baths and theatres, their gardens 
 and court-yards, in which however the httle foun- 
 
co^^STA^'TINO^LE to flokence. 155 
 
 tain is silenced for ever. In walking- into their 
 houses we seem to become strang'ely familiar with 
 their former inhabitants; we see eveiywhere traces 
 of their being', of their virtues and vices, of their 
 g-reatness and their folly. I daresay by night the 
 spirits of the departed haunt the silent tovvn ; but 
 it was by broad cheerful dayhght that I visited it, 
 and therefore it seemed inhabited only by pretty 
 little lizards, which I saw flitting* about on every 
 wall, and between the delicate ferns that gTow in 
 the silent streets of Pompeii. 
 
 Of our journey from Naples to Leg-horn, there is 
 not much to be said, althoug-h it was very pleasant. 
 We went Avith the Italian steamer " Principe Um- 
 berto," which was filled with passeng-ers, most of 
 whom were g'oing- like ourselves to Florence, for 
 the Dante festival, which was to be celebrated 
 there on the 14th, 15th, and 16th of May. 
 Several of the passeng-ers were deputies sent to 
 Florence from different towns in Calabria. The 
 compan}'- was lively and merry. The piano in the 
 saloon sounded almost the whole dav, but beino- 
 touched by skilful fing-ers it did not annoy me like 
 the performances of the young- ladies from Con- 
 stantinople, or the quadrilles of the young* Eng-lish 
 officer. 
 
 We arrived at Leghorn on the 18th of May, 
 
156 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 after a journey of twenty-four hours, there 
 we remamed the nig'ht, not daring* to proceed 
 to Florence, for we knew that all the hotels were 
 over-crowded, and that we should find it difficult 
 to g"et a room if we arrived late at nig-ht. 
 
 After a stroll throug-h the town, Avhich is a well 
 built modern place, we went to rest, in order to be 
 better able to bear the fatig-ues, and enjoy the 
 pleasures of the days to come. 
 
157 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE DANTE FESTIVAL AT FLORENCE. 
 
 " Del bel paese la dove il si siiona." 
 
 Dante. 
 
 And now the ^reat day had come, the 14th of 
 May, 1865 ! I had to rise very early, for we 
 intended to leave b}" the first train, which started 
 fi'om Leo'horn at four o'clock in the mornino-. 
 Althoug-h rather averse to early rising- in Eng-land, 
 it cost me no effort here. The thoiig-ht of going* 
 to Florence roused me, besides the warm bright 
 twilight of an Italian May morning" lig-hted up 
 my bedroom, and the street was already full of 
 people, all in holiday dress, and taking" the road 
 towards the station, in order to secure places in 
 the train that was to take them to Florence. 
 
 We were not the last in the crowd, and three 
 hours after, arrived at Florence, where Italy was 
 going" to celebrate on that day the sixth centenary 
 anniversar}' of the birth of Dante. Truly this 
 solemn event happened " in the fulness of time," 
 
158 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 and every thing" concurred to make it as splendid 
 and happy a festival as an}^ nation has ever cele- 
 brated. Now, for the first time, the g'rand idea 
 of Dante, a free and united Itaty, has almost 
 become a complete reality, and the hearts of all 
 his people rejoice that from the Alps to Mount 
 Etna, one law now reigns, and hopefully trust 
 that the other g-reat thoug-ht of Dante, the de- 
 liverance of the Church from the burden of tem- 
 poral power, will ere long* also become a reality. 
 The disappointment and irritation the Italians felt 
 at the loss of Savoy and Nice, has almost en- 
 tirely passed, while what they have g-ained has 
 still all the charm of a new possession, and some- 
 thing* of the passion and enthusiasm of hone}"- 
 moon-love in it. Is it therefore to be wondered 
 at that the people of Italy rejoiced on the 14th 
 of May? that every countenance Avore a smile, 
 and that their livel}^ eyes sparkled with joy ! 
 
 The festival happening* in Spring'-time was 
 also a favourable circumstance. Dante, near the 
 entrance of Hell, felt comforted because it was 
 " la bella stao-ione," was it therefore not natural 
 
 O 7 
 
 that it added much to the splendour and enjoy- 
 ment of a fete in " blooming* Florence !" Had 
 the anniversary happened in December or January, 
 where could the flowers have come from, and the 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 159 
 
 g-loi'}^ of the g'olden sunshine round Dante's statue. 
 A pelting- rnin mig-ht easily have damped the 
 enthusiasm of his countrymen, as it would most 
 certain]}' have spoiled the pretty bonnets of his 
 fair compatriots, that made so nice a show in 
 seats round the Piazza Santa Croce. 
 
 Most fjxvourable for the celebration of the anni- 
 versary of Dante's birth, w^as lastly, that it haj)- 
 pened at Florence, the ver}^ town in all the world 
 best adapted for the celebration of such an event. 
 
 Fancy a national festival at Paris or London ! 
 The size of those towns does not admit of a g'enernl 
 decoration ; but even if such a miracle could be 
 performed, nobody would ever see a tenth part of 
 it, as one would be nearl}^ dead with fatig'ue 
 getting' half way from the Marble Arch to St. Paul's, 
 Another serious drawback are the immense multi- 
 tudes that inhabit these monster towns, and create 
 unpleasant crowds, which, to all that have not 
 nerves of iron, and great physical strength, de- 
 stroy all feeling- of enjo^'ment. None of these 
 unfavourable conditions existed in Florence. It 
 is but a little place, thoug-h such a g-em of a town, 
 and can therefore be uniformly decorated, changed 
 into a gigantic palace, through whose halls and 
 corridors the inhabitants and visitors, that do 
 not number by millions, gaily move. And such a 
 
160 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 place Florence appeared on that day. All the 
 houses had red^ green, or yellow silk hangmg-s 
 falHng' down from their window s, and were besides 
 richly decorated with pictures, busts, flags, flowers, 
 and everoTeens. The noble architecture of the 
 town, the nice clean streets, which are neither too 
 narrow to look sombre, nor too broad not to be 
 easily spanned by garlands of flowers, all united 
 to produce the happiest effect. On all the principal 
 places, statues of great Italians had been placed, 
 or trophies in remembrance of some great national 
 event, which happened on that particular spot. 
 There was a great number of them ; for the 
 Florentines boast, and not without some reason, 
 that if a stone were to mark every glorious 
 memory of the town, there would hardly be a stone 
 in Florence that did not deserve special distinc- 
 tion. I could not attempt to find out what all 
 the statues and trophies meant, but even if I 
 had looked at them all, and remembered every 
 inscription, I could not enumerate them here, 
 else what is to be but a chapter would become a 
 volume. 
 
 I must however mention a fine statue of Gahleo, 
 on the Piazza Sante Maria Novella, with the 
 following inscription : — 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL, 101 
 
 " A Galileo. 
 Finira la tua gloria 
 quando il genere umano 
 cessi di vedere il sole ed abitare la terra."* 
 
 Near the Ponte ;illa Carrain, there was a statue 
 to Goldoiii, the g-rent writer of comedies, and on 
 the Piazza del Duomo, those of the famous 
 architects Arnolfo and Brunelesco. On the houses 
 where celebrated men were born, lived, or died, 
 tablets were placed recording* their names and 
 deeds, ornamented with banners, wreaths of 
 flowers and laurels, and often with the bust or 
 portrait of the illustrious dead. 
 
 The Bruneleschi palace, where Michael Ang*elo 
 lived and died, and which still contains his books, 
 furniture, etc., interested me much. On a house 
 in the Corso, I noticed the following* inscription : — 
 O voi die per la via d'amor passate 
 volgete uno sguardo alio mure 
 eve naque nell' aprile del 12GG 
 Beatrice Portinari, 
 prima e purissima fiamma, 
 che accese il genio 
 del Diviuo Poeta 
 Dante Alighieri.f 
 
 * Thy glory will end, when the human race shall have 
 ceased to see the sun, and to inhabit the earth. 
 
 f Tou that walk in the path of love, cast a look upon 
 these walls, where iu April 1260, was born Beatrice 
 Portinari, etc. 
 
 M 
 
1G2 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 The house of Giovanni Battista Strozzi, named 
 the BHnd, the gTeat scholar and philosopher of the 
 17th century, was beautifully decorated. I re- 
 marked also Frescobaldi's^ the friend of Dante, 
 Avliich stands in the Via Mag-g-io, and not far 
 from it, on the Piazza Santa Trinita, the house in 
 which Robert Dudley, an Eng-lish mathematician 
 of the 17 th century lived, whose memory still 
 survives in Florence. 
 
 In Sta. Maria Maggiore, I observed a tablet 
 which marks the spot where Brunetto Latini, 
 Dante's master, is buried. Under the name was 
 written the following* hue from the Divina 
 Comedia, which is deservedly considered a grander 
 and more lasting monument than any that could 
 be erected in marble : 
 
 " M'insegnavate come Tuom s'eterna."* 
 
 On the Piazza del Duomo, is the ^^ Sasso di 
 Dante," a stone upon which the great man often 
 sat in meditations, as lofty and grand as the 
 glorious Dome on which he was silently gazing*. 
 
 In a niche in the wall over that spot, was placed 
 the bust of Dante, surrounded b}^ laurel wreaths 
 and flowers. The Piazza dei Signori, looked 
 magnificent and most beautiful of all that part 
 
 * You taught iiic how a man becomes immortal. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 1G3 
 
 which is formed by the Log'g'ia del Lanzi, under 
 whose noble arches are placed some of the finest 
 works of art : the 'J'heseus by Benvenuto Cellini, 
 the Rape of the Sabines by Giovanni di Bolog-na, 
 and others. This g'em of architecture is at all 
 times splendid; but now its walls were covered 
 with the most exquisite Gobelin tapestr3', after 
 desig'ns by Michael Ang-elo. They represented 
 the history of Adam and Eve, from their creation 
 to their expulsion from Paradise. 
 
 The g'reatest care had however been bestowed 
 on the decoration of the Piazza Santa Croce, 
 where the inauo-uration of the national monument 
 to Dante was to take place. This piazza is a large 
 oblong* space, whose houses were covered with 
 flowers and rich red silk hano-ino-s, and the back- 
 ground was formed by the splendid marble facade 
 of the church of Santa Croce. The piazza had 
 been boarded and carpeted all over, and raised 
 seats were erected for the spectators who had ob- 
 tained tickets. When these seats and the win- 
 dows round the piazza were all filled, principally 
 with ladies, in the most elegant spring toilets, the 
 eifect was the gayest imaginable. 
 
 Behind the seats were placed thirt3'-eight paint- 
 ino's imitating' bas-relief, illustrating' the life of 
 Dante. The fii'st represented him when, nine years 
 
 yi 2 
 
1G4 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 old, he first saw Beatrice, in the house of her father; 
 the last showed his burial in Ravenna. There were 
 also the portraits of about forty celebrated con- 
 temporaries, translators, or commentators of Dante. 
 Round the piazza were placed rich banners of 
 Florence and Tuscany, the poles of which were 
 festooned with wreaths of laurels and floAvers. 
 On the pole of each banner was placed a tablet 
 with some verses from the g-reat poem of Dante ; 
 many of which anticipated the great political and 
 religious events of the day, for the accomplish- 
 ment of which 550 years ag-o, Dante had long-ed 
 with passionate desire. I noted down a lew, which 
 I will transcribe here. 
 
 Soleva Eoma, clie'l buon mondo feo, 
 Duo Soli aver, die I'una e I'altra strada 
 Facean vedere, e del mondo e di Deo. 
 L'un I'altro lia spento, ed e giunta la spada 
 Col pastorale : e I'uu coll 'altro insieine 
 Per viva forza mal couvien che vada.* 
 
 Purgatorio, Canto 2G. 
 
 * Rome, that turned once tlie world to good 
 Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams 
 Cast light in either way ; the world's and God's. 
 One since has quenched the other, and the sword 
 Is grafted on the crook ; and so conjoined 
 Each must perforce decline to worse, unawed 
 By fear of other. Gary's translation. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 1G5 
 
 Di oggimai, die la chiosa di lloma 
 Per confoudcrc in se duo reggimenti 
 Cade uel fango, e se brutta e la soma.* 
 
 Purg. Canto 26. 
 Ahi, Costantin, di quauto mal fu matre 
 Nou la tua conversion, ma quella dote, 
 Che da te prese il primo ricco patre If 
 
 Inferno, Canto 19. 
 Non fu nostra intenzion, cli'a destra mano 
 De'nostri successor parte sedesse 
 Parte dall'altra, del popal cristiauo, 
 Ne che le cliiavi, che mi fur concesse 
 Diveuisser scmacolo in vessillo 
 Che contra i battezzati combattessc. J 
 
 Paradiso, Canto 27. 
 
 * The Church of Eome, 
 Mixing two governments that ill assort, 
 Hath missed her footing, fallen into the mire, 
 And there herself and burden much defiled. 
 
 f Ah Constantine ! to how much ill gave birth 
 J^otthy conversion, but that plentous dower 
 AVliich the first wealthy Father gained from thee. 
 
 Carys Dante. 
 X No purpose was of ours 
 That on the right hand of our successors. 
 Part of the Christian people should be set. 
 And part upon their left ; nor that the keys, 
 Wliich were vouchsafed me, sliould for ensign serve 
 Unto the banners, that do levy war 
 On the baptized. 
 
166 THREE MONTHS ABEOAD. 
 
 Lo maggior don, clie Dio per sua larghezza 
 
 Fesse creaudo, ed alia sua bontate 
 
 Piu conformato, e quel cli'ei piii apprezza, 
 
 !Fu della volouta la libertate 
 
 Di clie le creature iutelligenti, 
 
 E tutte e sole, furo e son dotate.* 
 
 Paradiso, Cant. v. 
 
 Throug-li the happy crowd that throng-ed the 
 festive streets of Florence, we wound our way to 
 the Piazza St. Croce, after having- rested a little 
 while at the house of a friend, who had kindly 
 invited us to stay with him during- the festival, as 
 it was almost impossible to g*et any g-ood accom- 
 modation in the over-croAvded hotels. 
 
 We arrived at the Piazza soon after ten 
 o'clock^ and found a place near to the throne, 
 erected in the centre of the Piazza, on which the 
 King* took his seat during- the ceremony, I 
 could therefore understand much of what the 
 Gonfaloniere and Father Giuliani said when they 
 addressed him. 
 
 We had not waited long-, when the ring-ing- of 
 the bells of the Palazzo Vecchio, announced that 
 
 * Supreme of gifts wliicli God, creating, gave 
 Of his free bounty, sigu most evideut 
 Of goodness, and in Lis account most prized, 
 Was liberty of will, the boon wherewith 
 All intellectual creatures, and them sole, 
 He hath endowed. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 107 
 
 the procession had beg'uii, and before loii<^' tlie 
 music of the band was heard. The o-uiu-ds on 
 horseback^ who rode in front of the procession, 
 apj)oared and cleared the wa}^ Then came a 
 band of music, followed by the representatives of 
 the Italia7i press, who were succeeded by those of 
 the Italian artists, anionic* Avhicli were several 
 ladies, the only females who took part in the 
 procession. Foremost among- them I noticed 
 Mdme. Ristori, who walked along' with the g'race 
 and dig'nity of a queen. 
 
 The ladies wore, as a head covering*, instead of 
 bonnets, the pretty and becoming black Italian veil. 
 And then came an endless procession of deputa- 
 tions from ever}'' town in Italj', occasionally in- 
 tercepted by bands of music. Each deputation 
 carried a banner, the beauty and eleg'ance of Avhich 
 surpassed anything* of the kind I had ever seen. 
 
 When the whole procession had arrived, and 
 rano-ed itself round the Piazza, and more than 
 three hundred silk banners waved and o-littered 
 in the sunshine, the sig'ht was mag-nificent 
 beyond description. The beautilid bnnners were, 
 after the ceremony, presented by the different 
 deputations to the municipality of Florence, and 
 will be kept as a remembrance of the 14th of 
 May, 1805. 
 
1G8 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 The deputations of the different towns and 
 provinces followed each other in an alphabetical 
 order, with the exception of the municipal bodies 
 of Florence and Eavenna, representing* Dante's 
 birth-place, and the town where he died and was 
 buried; these were the last in the procession. 
 The red fleur-de-lis of Florence was loudly cheered, 
 so were the arms of Ravenna, and the same 
 honour w as bestowed on the sigii of the Wolf 
 suckling' twin boys, which was carried by a 
 deputation from Eome. This banner had crape 
 attached to it. The cheers became most 
 enthusiastic when the wing'ed Lion of Venice 
 appeared, also with the sign of mourning-, and 
 followed by a long- train of exiles from that 
 unhappy place. The generous and easily moved 
 Italians were loud in their expression of sj-m- 
 path}^ ; the men shouted and clapped their hands, 
 the women burst into tears and waved their 
 handkerchiefs. 
 
 I noticed also a deputation from Trieste. I am 
 no politician, so I may be mistaken; but I thoug-ht 
 Austria had an undeniable right to that province, 
 and therefore looked upon its deputation rather as 
 an intruder. And I must not forg'et to mention two 
 Dominican Friars, who had come with us from 
 Naples, and were sent from some fraternity there. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. IGi) 
 
 The baunei- they carried bore the ins('ri})tioii 
 " Ilonia per Capitale/' and they received iiiany 
 sig"ns of o-ood-will as they passed in the procession^ 
 being* the only priests that had taken any part in 
 the festival, or shown any feeling- that was not 
 indifference or even hostility to it. 
 
 The priesthood of Florence behaved in a most 
 uno-racious manner. All the beautiful churches 
 of Florence, which thousands of eager strangers 
 A\ished to see, were closed, except for a few hours 
 daily \\hen mass was said ', and money, which 
 usually opens those doors so readily, was of no 
 avail ; so that many who could not stay after the 
 festival was over, saw but few, and those often at 
 gTeat inconvenience, being- obliged to profit by 
 the short time of service when they were open. 
 
 Soon after the procession had ranged itself 
 round the Piazza, and the bands were pla^'hig 
 joyful tunes, loud cheers announced the approach 
 of the King, the first King of Ital}', the repre- 
 sentative of its unity and libert}^ ! The l\e 
 Galantuomo took his seat opposite the veiled 
 statue, and was, as soon as the cheers had subsided, 
 addressed by the Gonfaloniere, who was, like the 
 rest of the municipal body, dressed in his robes 
 of office, which closely resemble those worn by the 
 magistrates at the time of Dante. The moment 
 
170 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 he had concluded his speech^ the covering- dropped, 
 and there stood in the midst of his people, in- 
 describably grand, with an expression both austere 
 and kind, sad and happy, Dante the divine. There 
 was a long- pause, then a murmur, then loud 
 cheering-. It was a moment never to be foro-otten. 
 I looked at the statue a^ain next day, and found 
 some fault with it j it takes too wide a stride, the 
 rig-ht arm is thrown too far backwards, but at the 
 moment of uncovering' I observed none of those 
 defects ; it appeared grand and imposirig-, and the 
 expression of the face worthy of the great soul 
 that once had animated its features. 
 
 But w^here was at that moment Italy's Hero ; 
 he, who had done more than any one living- or dead 
 for the realization of the g-reat thought of Dante's 
 life J he, who resembled the g-reat dead more than 
 any living- Italian, in his unselfish, undying- love 
 of his country, in his pure and blameless life ? A 
 solitary exile, on a bare rock of Caprera sat 
 Giuseppe Garibaldi on that joyful day. Close by 
 the side of the King-, as when he entered the 
 Cathedral of Naples, there Italy oug-ht to have 
 prepared a seat for him. But he seemed forg-otten 
 b}'' every bod3\ No where did I see a bust that 
 portrayed his noble features j I heard no ^■oice 
 raise the cry, ^^ Evviva Garibaldi ! " 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 171 
 
 Thus let it be ! But surely the day will come, 
 as came the Dante day of Florence, Avhen 
 Italy will pay her tribute of honour to her Hero, 
 as she did that day to her Poet. Then will multi- 
 tudes flock tog-ether, and men looking- at his noble 
 imao-e, will call out with beatino- hearts, '^ Behold 
 our deliverer," and women will w^eep, and lifting- 
 up their children will cr}^, " To him we owe it, that 
 we are Italians." And I missed the presence of 
 another man, of one who, althoug-h in another 
 way, laboured as earnestly and successfully for his 
 country. But Camillo Cavour after a life of toil and 
 trouble, rests peacefully at Santena. He saw but 
 the dawn of the brig-ht day that has now arisen 
 over his country. When the king" and the people 
 had for some time o-azed at the fia*nre that had 
 appeared so suddenly in their midst, Padre Giuliani 
 made a short speech, of which the words ^^ Onorate 
 I'altissimo Poeta, la sua g-rand anima h placata,"* 
 made a deep impression. Amidst the sounds 
 of a jo3-ful chorus, singing* a hymn to Dante, 
 I left the Piazza Santa Croce. 
 
 In the coolness of the nio-ht. after havinii' rested 
 from the fatig-ues of the morning*, we took an open 
 carriao-e for a drive throuo-h the illuminated town. 
 
 * Let us honour tlic sublime Poet, liis great soul is ap- 
 peased. 
 
172 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 I had never seen an illumination abroad, and was 
 'enchanted. / Oh how little do we understand such 
 thing-s in Eng-knd J I had always thoug-ht the blaz- 
 ing* g-as- stars, crowns, Prince of Wales' feathers, 
 and V. R.'s, stuck ag-ainst some dark shapeless 
 building', very meaning-less and hideous, and for the 
 last ten years nothing* could ever persuade me to 
 turn out on an illumination nio-ht. It was in 
 Florence I learned that such a spectacle can be 
 imposing- and lovely. We commit two g'laring* 
 faults in our illuminations in Eno-land. The fii*st 
 is that we employ g-as, instead of oil lamps, 
 which g'lares and dazzles instead of illuminating- ; 
 secondly-, instead of lig'hting* up our building's 
 architecturally, we stick some ornament ao-ainst 
 them, which is perfectly unmeaning' and arbitniry. 
 1 wonder that any one who is not a child, 
 can care to look at a thing' only because it is 
 brio-ht. The Florentines had illuminated their 
 beautiful town, especially its most imposing* build- 
 ing's, with lamps arrang-ed in a way to bring* out 
 every outline in a blaze of lig-ht. The stones of 
 the walls appeared transparent, as if the light 
 which was merel}^ reflected bv them, proceeded 
 from them. The wonderful structures of the 
 Palazzo Vecchio, the Palazzo della Podesta, the 
 l*alazzo Pitti, and of the Puomo, served as a 
 
TUE DANTE FESTIVAL. 173 
 
 scaffoldinp; for the faiiy palaces that hiirned 
 throug'h the iiig-ht. And if ])ossible the effect they 
 produced was even surpassed by the iUumination 
 of the Luno-'Arno, where the lono- rows of in- 
 numerable liii'hts alono- the banks, and round the 
 arches of the bridg-es, were reflected in the placid 
 waters of the Arno, in which they formed long- 
 lines of g'olden lig'ht, and wonderfully increased 
 the effect of the illumination above. How I wish 
 that we could be treated to a similar sight 
 in London. Why are the noble mansions^ for 
 instance the Club-houses in St. James', not hg-hted 
 up in this way, instead of being- actually disfig'ured 
 by senseless ornaments, which I hear are never- 
 theless very costly ? Will none of the honourable 
 members of those clubs, who have seen and admired 
 an illumination of St. Peter's at Eome, or of the 
 Pitti Palace at Florence, treat the London sight- 
 seers to such a spectacle ? To hope that such a 
 thing- should be done with the houses of Parlia- 
 ment, or St. Paul's, is perhaps too bold a wish. 
 
 In the principal squares of the town were 
 stationed bands of music and choirs ) and thus a 
 happy crowd that behaved with a gentleness and 
 politeness, which astonished me as much as the 
 illumination, moved alono- throuo-h the cool 
 pleasant night to the sounds of joyful music. 
 
174 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 And thus ended the first day of Dante's g-reat 
 festival. 
 
 On the second day there was a matinee musicale, 
 where a " Hymn to Beatrice/' a chorus called 
 '' Dante's return to Florence," and other pieces, 
 were sung-, and in the evening* there was a g-rand 
 concert in the Teatro Pag-liano, where a " Dante 
 Symphony," the " Ave Maria" of Dante, and other 
 appropriate pieces were executed, but as I was 
 present at neither, I cannot say any thing* about 
 them. I spent several hours that day in the 
 Palazzo della Podesta, and examined the " Es- 
 positione Dantesca." 
 
 Its object was to make us as much as possible 
 acquainted with all that related to Dante and his 
 time. There was a larg*e collection of portraits 
 of Dante, of which an excellent copy of one by 
 Giotto, pleased me most. There were also several 
 pictures of which he was the subject, but they 
 had little intrinsic value. Among* the painting's 
 illustrating* some part of the Divina Comedia, 
 I noticed but one g*ood picture, a modern one 
 by Benvenuto dArezzi. It represents Ug*olino 
 and his sons ; it is however, not so g*ood as 
 the one by Reynolds, at Knole House, and 
 which depicts this terrible story almost as power- 
 fully as the twenty-third Canto of the Inferno. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 175 
 
 But thore were seveiit}' -four pen and ink drawing-s^ 
 illustrating- the Inferno, b}' Professor Scarramuzzo 
 of Parmn, wliicbj in ni}^ opinion, were the g*ems 
 of the whole exhibition. Fine photogrnphs of these 
 beautiful drawings were exhil)ited with them. My 
 husband wrote for copies of them to Parma, as 
 they could not be bought in Florence j they were 
 sent, and are the most precious remembrances to 
 me of the Dante festival. 
 
 There were also old portraits of several of 
 Dante's contemporaries, or of persons mentioned 
 in the Comedia. I noticed those of Guido Caval- 
 cante and Christo Landini ; most curious was an 
 old wooden statue, covered with bronze, of Pope 
 Boniface VII I., which wns sent to the exhibition 
 from the Archaeological Museum of Bologna, with 
 the following" inscription : — 
 
 " Qui fui tratto ad onorar il trionfo 
 di lui ch'io cacciai dalla patria."* 
 
 One room was full of manuscripts on parch- 
 ment, etc., of the Divina Comedia, some as old as 
 the fourteenth century ; and other books, especially 
 Bibles, of the same date j and there were also 
 some fragments of manusci*ij)ts by the Divine Poet 
 himself, at which I looked with awe and reverence. 
 
 * " I ^\-as brought here to honour tlie triumph of him 
 whom I seut iuto exile." 
 
176 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 The exhibition contained also a large collection of 
 arms, furniture, jewellery, and works of art of 
 the middle ages, especially of the time of Dante 5 
 and which, examhied in connexion with him, 
 acquired a new interest. 
 
 The beautiful sword, the Gonfaloniere had pre- 
 sented to the King- in the name of Florence, was 
 also exhibited there. On one side of the blade 
 were inscribed the words ^' Dante to the first Kino- 
 of Ital3\" On the other the following' lines from 
 the Cth Canto of the Purgatory : — 
 
 " Vieni a veder la tua Eoma, clie piagne 
 Vedova, sola, e di e notte chiama : 
 Cesare mio, perclie noa m'accompagne ?" 
 
 As at every festival there are many young- ladies, 
 who are not happy unless they get a dance, and 
 as there are always gentlemen, who in order 
 to enjoy themselves require races or regattas, 
 and as the populace is every where fond of show 
 and disj^lay, so there were also at the Dante 
 festival balls, races, regattas, and tournaments. 
 What those things could have to do with Dante, it 
 would be difficult to sa}^ ; for the love of God, of his 
 country, and poetrj-, the three great elements of 
 which the soul of the Divine Poet seems to have 
 been composed, are not very intimately connected 
 with these kinds of amusements. I think therefore 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 177 
 
 they were out of keeping*, and mig-ht as well have 
 been omitted. A Dante festival, althoug-h rig'htly 
 of a cheerful and joyful character, oug-ht, it seems 
 to me, always to be tempered by seriousness, and 
 free from frivolity. I must however confess, that 
 I went myself to look at these thing's whenever 
 I was not too tired to do so. 
 
 The grand ball at the Casino, as the g'reat club- 
 house is called, in spite of the splendid ball-rooms, 
 the g'ood music and the eleg-ant dress of the ladies, 
 was rather a failure. The rooms were hot, and 
 the ladies tired after the excitement of the day. 
 Many seemed to prefer a walk throug-li the open 
 g-alleries, which were beautifully decorated with 
 flowers, and where they could breathe the fresh 
 nio'htair,to a quadrille; and others withdrew to the 
 many eleg'ant rooms that join the two ball-rooms, 
 preferring* evidently a chat to a waltz. All retired 
 at an early hour. 
 
 The popular ball, in the g-alleries of the Uffizi, 
 was a much more novel and interestino* thina*. 
 
 The Uffizi, erected by Cosimo I., and considered 
 Vasari's finest buildino- enclose a lar^re court or 
 square A\'ith porticos round it. One end is formed 
 by a g"rand arch, under which stands the eques- 
 trian statue of Cosimo I., by Giovanni di Bolog-na, 
 and all round, in niches in the wall, are placed 
 
 N 
 
178 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 well executed marble statues of ^reat Tuscans by 
 modern artists. There are about thirt}^ in number, 
 and among- them such names as Leonardo da Vinci, 
 Michael Ang-elo, Dante, Petrarca, Boccaccio, 
 Lorenzo the Mag-nificent, Galileo, Benvenuto 
 CeUini, etc. This vast and splendid place had been 
 converted into an open air ball-room. It had been 
 boarded all over. The walls and columns were 
 covered with splendid Gobehn tapestry of gTand 
 desig'ns and rich colouring*. Larg-e lookingf-g-lasses, 
 encircled by g*arlands of flowers instead of frames, 
 reflected and multiplied the innumerable lig-hts, 
 which poured their rays like fountains on the as- 
 sembled multitude. In the middle of the square 
 a fountain played among- white, g-reen, and red 
 light, representing' the Italian colours. Above, 
 g-arlands of flowers and everg-reens, from which 
 thousands of coloured lamps were suspended, 
 formed the plafond. Now and then the soft nig-ht 
 breeze made the lamps swing* g'ently back- 
 wards and forwards, which had a pretty effect. 
 An excellent band played ball music. The centre 
 was occupied by the dancers ; the spectators 
 moving along- under the porticos, a quiet, polite, 
 orderly crowd. I never heard a rude word nor was 
 molested in the slightest deg-ree during- my walk 
 round the porticos. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 179 
 
 What surprised me however most was the ex- 
 traordinary modesty and dig-nit}^ of the Tuscan 
 maidens, who had dechned in a body to join 
 tlie dance, considering- the fete of too pubhc a 
 character. This seemed however not to interfere 
 at all with the enjoyment of the ball. The 
 youngs men thinking- most probably that their 
 sisters and sweethearts were rig-ht in what they 
 did, danced among- themselves, and evidently with 
 no lack of spirit and enjoyment. They were mostly 
 lads of between fifteen and twenty years of ag-e. 
 The young- women, on the arm of their fathers, 
 or in companies tog*ether, stood around as spec- 
 tators and seemed to look on with pleasure. The 
 festival concluded not unworthily with a series of 
 '^ tableaux vivants " at the Teatro Pag-liano, illus- 
 trating- the life of Dante, and parts of the Divina 
 Commedia. The former were accompanied b}- words 
 set to music for the occasion ', the latter preceded 
 by those verses from the divine poem which they 
 were intended to illustrate. The theatre is large, 
 and every space was filled and prettily decorated 
 with wreaths of flowers. Many of the tableaux 
 were charmins". The first meetino- of Dante and 
 Beatrice in the streets of Florence was lovely. 
 The fiery g-raves of the Inferno, and the proud 
 fig'ure of Farinato, rising- out of one, in order to 
 
 N 8 
 
180 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 speak to Dante, was the most effective. The one 
 in which Pia in Purg-atorj speaks to the poet, 
 will never be forg"otten by me, because of the 
 touching- manner with which Mme. Ristori spoke 
 the words : — 
 
 " Eicordati di me, clie son la Pia," 
 
 which sounded like an eleg-y. 
 
 Her recitation of the story of the unhappy 
 
 Francesco da Rimini, was above all praise. Those 
 
 sad words : — 
 
 " Nessun maggior dolore, 
 
 Che ricordarsi del tempo felice, 
 Nella miseria," 
 
 moved me to tears. Splendidly did she pronounce 
 her detestation of the licentious book that had 
 wroug-ht Francesca's fall, when she said : — 
 
 " Galeotto fu il libro e clii lo scrisse," 
 and then added with a shudder of horror that 
 trembled in her voice : — 
 
 " Quel giorno piu non vi leggemmo avante." 
 
 Besides Madame Eistori, Sig". Salvini, Sig-. 
 Rossi, and Sig\ Gottinelli, recited. They are con- 
 sidered the first actors in Italy, but I cannot say 
 that they pleased me. Like those of Hamlet, 
 " they imitated humanity so abominably." Their 
 countrymen however applauded them the more, 
 the more they "overstepped the modesty of 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 181 
 
 nature ;" ^^ strutted and bellowed, and sawed the air 
 with their hands." But the cheers which were 
 so liberally bestowed upon these recitations, be- 
 came most enthusiastic whenever the words could 
 be interpreted so as to allude to the g-reat political 
 events and ideas of the day. At the words: — 
 
 " Infiu che '1 Veltro, 
 Yerra, che la fara morir di doglia." 
 
 Infer. Canto 1. 
 
 And at those, 
 
 " Yieni a veder la tua Eoma, clie piagne, 
 Vedova, sola, e di e notte chiama : 
 Cesare mio, perche non m'accompagne ? " 
 
 Purg. Canto 6. 
 
 the audience foro-ot the " Divina Commedia " and 
 the actors, and loudly cheered the King-, who was 
 present at the representation, and had been re- 
 ceived with loud and continuous cheers when he 
 entered his box. 
 
 But althoug'h the Dante festival is over, 1 
 cannot leave Florence without tellino- a little more 
 about it, for the recollection of that charming* town 
 is one of the most pleasing- of my journey. 
 
 Florence means, as everybody' knows, the 
 flowery, the blooming- ; but only those that have 
 seen it in the month of Ma^^, can know how a\ ell 
 it deserves so fair a name. The beautiful Tuscan 
 
182 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 valleys, in the most lovely of which Florence lies, 
 may well be reg-arded as the g-arden of the tem- 
 perate zone. It certainly seems to me the most 
 perfect representation of it. Naples has a touch 
 of the tropics j cacti, aloes, and palm trees, are 
 not of our clime. We meet with nothing* new or 
 strang-e at Florence. We are quite at home, all 
 among- old friends, wearing" a new and more beauti- 
 ful dress than we were wont to see them in, and 
 they please us more than ever. 
 
 The trees are not gig-antic, but perfect in form 
 and size. The meadows and fields, though 
 a pleasant sigiit, are somewhat monotonous at 
 home ', here they have a perfectly different look. 
 They are planted with rows of pretty young- trees 
 of all kinds, such as poplars, planes, may, moun- 
 tain ashes, etc., which are not allowed to gTow 
 be^^ond the size of an ornamental g-arden tree, in 
 order to prevent their giving- too much shade. 
 Round every stem twines a vine, that hang-s g-race- 
 fully from its supportino- branches, and meets some 
 other vine from a neig-hbouring- tree, thus forming* 
 eleg-ant festoons. 
 
 And how well the fig'ures that animate this 
 delightful landscape, harmonize with it. The 
 women of Tuscany have not the stately beauty 
 of the Roman matrons, nor the coquetish grace 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. J 83 
 
 of their sisters of Milan and Venice. Their eyes 
 have not the fire that hums in those of the Nea- 
 pohtan g'irls, nor is their skin so foir as that of 
 the Genoese ; hut I do not know if, after all, 
 they are not the best looking- in Itaty. Their eyes 
 have a soft lustre, which is very charming" ', their 
 features are reg'ular and very pleasing*. 
 
 We sta^'ed a few days after the festival under the 
 false pretence of resting' ourselves, but who could 
 rest when there was so much to be seen and enjo3'^ed ? 
 
 I spent one day in the famous Gallery of the 
 Uffizi, saw a splendid marble co])}^ of Laocoon, 
 and knew then what I never understood before, 
 why that gTOup is so much admired ; saw the 
 eternal ideal of Beaut}^, in the Venus of Medicis, 
 and those ^^•onderful beings which the brush of 
 Titian has immortalised. But how can I venture to 
 attempt enumerating' all that I saw there ? Another 
 day was sj)ent in the Palazzo Pitti, where some 
 of Kaphael's most charming works are treasured 
 up. The '^ Madonna del Cardelhno," the " Ma- 
 donna del Baldacchino," which although very 
 lovely, I hardly looked at, because I could not 
 turn my eyes away from those two wing'ed 
 darlino's that stand at her feet, and singf her 
 praise ; and there was above all my much beloved 
 and revered " Madonna della Sedia." 
 
184 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 I visited of course the churclies, the interiors 
 of which are mostly of a sombre g'rey^ that blends 
 with a lighter shade of the same colour, and with 
 white. It produces a simple and serious effect. 
 In striking" contrast to the simple g-randeur of 
 the interior of these churches, is the Medicean 
 chapel, belonging- to the Church of St. Lorenzo, 
 which is g"org"eous in the extreme, the walls being" 
 entirely covered with costly marbles, and precious 
 stones ; a fit monument of the overbearing" pride 
 and vanity of that famous family. It astonished 
 me nmch; this monument of their untold wealth 
 and g-reat power ; I could not help contrasting" 
 with it the comparative simplicity and modesty 
 of the Mausoleums of the g-reat Sovereig"ns of 
 our time, and felt that the most powerful and 
 ambitious of them, could not build one for him- 
 self like the chapel of the Medici. In the sacristia 
 of the same church, I saw the monuments on the 
 tombs of Lorenzo and Giug"liano dei Medici, by 
 Michael Ano-elo. Of the six fio-ures that com- 
 pose the two monuments, the one of Lorenzo, 
 made the deepest impression upon me. The 
 whole fig-ure, especially the face, has an expression 
 of deep inconsolable g-rief. He looks as if sorrow- 
 ing" for ever that he robbed a g"reat and noble 
 people of its libert^^ ; as if come to a full know- 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 185 
 
 ledo-e of his a'liilt, and the sms and follies of his 
 past life. I think some people say the expression 
 of this sad, mournful lig-ure sitting* upon his own 
 tonib^ is one of meditation. Ilog-ers writes " he 
 scowls at us." It did not seem to me that he 
 looks at any thing- present at all, he looks with a 
 vacant stare, his sig-ht is turned inwardl}', lost in 
 the contemplation of the past. 
 
 I went directly from those tombs to the one 
 where the g-reat master reposes. It is in the 
 church of Santa Croce, that the dust of Michael 
 Ang'elo mingles with that of Galileo, and of many 
 other g'reat men. The alleg-orical fig-ure of Italy 
 sorrowing" over the g-raveof Alfieri, who also rests 
 wdthiu the walls of this church, is by Canova, and 
 is as beautiful a monument as any poet could wish 
 to have erected over his grave. 
 
 "With a feelino' not Iree from reo-ret, we left 
 Florence early one morning", in a fragrant May 
 shower, that cooled and refreshed the air, and 
 made the garden-country all around look fresher 
 and lovelier than ever. AVe travelled in the same 
 carriage with the well known Padre Gavazzi, who 
 was not satisfied with the festival, as according 
 to his opinion, it had not been of a character 
 sufficiently decided political and rehgious. 
 
 When chanoini'- our carriao-e at Boloji'na, I 
 
186 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 I suddenly found myself face to face with Mdlle. 
 S — ^ and her father, who had been among- our 
 travelling* companions from Trieste to Smyrna, 
 and who were returning- from their pilg-rimage 
 to Jerusalem. Their journey may have been 
 one of intense enjox^ment, it certainty had been 
 one of great fatig-ue. The poor g-irl looked thin 
 and worn, and spoke to me of her adventures with 
 a woeful countenance. The expression of her 
 face was at the same time exceedingly comical, 
 and I could not help laughing- at her tale, a laug-h 
 in which the g-ood natured g-irl heartily joined, 
 althoug-h it was partly at her own expense. Ac- 
 cording- to her account, and her wan cheeks, 
 and dim, lustreless eyes, confirmed what she said, 
 the fatig-ues and dang-ers of the excursion to the 
 Holy Land, must have been ver}^ g-reat indeed. 
 The Germans are not an equestrian nation. Of 
 the forty excursionists, not one was a very pro- 
 ficient rider ; in fact few of them had ever been 
 on horse or donke^^-back before. The consequence 
 was an uninterrupted series of accidents as soon 
 as travelling- on horseback became, as it is every- 
 where in the East, the onty mode of transit. 
 
 The poor girl had slipped off her horse with 
 saddle and all, at a most dangerous spot in g'oing* 
 to the Dead Sea ; she mis-Jit have been seriously 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 187 
 
 injured J as she could not extricate herself at 
 once, and the horse was moving- on. Fortunately 
 the young" Kentuckian, w ho, as I had observed 
 on the steamboat, was always trying' to be 
 near that '^ nice German g'irl/' was close behind 
 her. He jumped from his horse and caug-ht hold 
 of hers, so that she was able to g'et up, having- 
 sustained no g-reat injur}- btyond the frig-ht. She 
 feeling-ly remarked, that fortunately her papa 
 was far behind. He only heard of the accident, 
 when the saddle and the young- lady were safe 
 ag-ain on the back of the steed. The poor man 
 had been out of his saddle more than once, but 
 without other injury than a sprain of his foot, 
 which obliged him to lie down for a few da3-s, and 
 hurt him for man}^ more. 
 
 Poor M. L — , a professor from Prag-ue, did not 
 escape so easily. In one of his falls he manag-ed 
 so badly that he hurt his leg- seriously. Inflam- 
 mation set in, and he had forty leeches applied 
 to it. But what mijj-ht have been the worst of all 
 accidents, happened to Mme. de H — , the sister of 
 the Archbishop. Horse and lady fell down to- 
 g-ether, and turned over and over before either g'ot 
 up ag-ain. The fair rider however escaped unhurt. 
 I was sorry that there was no time for Mdlle. S. to 
 tell me of all the accidents that befell these nnluckv 
 
188 THREE MONTHS ABROAD. 
 
 excursionists, for every one met with some misliap, 
 either in Palestine or Egypt, with the exception 
 of the four young- Americans and old General T — . 
 The latter seemed as much at home in Jerusalem 
 and Cairo, as he had been on board the Neptune. 
 He always ate with a tremendous appetite what- 
 ever the fare mig-ht be, and slept like a bear on 
 whatever couch he rested. 
 
 The guard, who called out that the train for 
 Milan was g'oing- to start, interrupted our conver- 
 sation. Mdlle. S — took up a little box, which she 
 had set down near her, and which contained a 
 small tortoise, which poked its head through a 
 hole in the lid. This and a shell, which she wore 
 as a sign of her pilgrimage on her little hat, was, 
 as far as I could see, all she had to recompense 
 her for the endless troubles and fatigues of her 
 journe}^ 
 
 And now I will hasten to conclude mine 5 for 
 after we left Florence the journey no longer offered 
 any great attractions. The places I saw now, I 
 had alrendy seen before, nor could they vie with 
 those I had so lately visited. Now I was with 
 heart and soul alrendy in England, at home with 
 my children. Oh, how slowly the express train 
 travels ! How long is anight in n railwa}^ carriage ! 
 Shall we rest a day at Paris ? No, T am not tired. 
 
THE DANTE FESTIVAL. 189 
 
 I cross the Channel as in a dream. There are the 
 white diffs of Do\er; I am in old England ! Fly 
 away train, rush along", take me home, home ! 
 
 At last the train stops, a few minutes bring- me 
 to our garden gate. I fly through the garden, 
 the door opens. Yes, there they are all, and all 
 well ! My baby climbs up a chair, and clings 
 round my neck j the boys make a deafening noise, 
 and I believe the mamma is almost as noisy. 
 
 And now I leave them, though for a few mi- 
 nutes onty. I sit down in m}' own room, on my 
 own chair, and all at once I feel I am tired. I 
 shut my eyes, out of 'v\hich tears steal, and my 
 full heart thanks Him, Avho gave me the joys of 
 the journey, who brought me safely home to my 
 children and who watched over them, and pre- 
 served them while I was away. 
 
 THE END. 
 
V. 
 
s 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 13 
 
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 .UG 1 6 1971 2 
 
 IN STAaK|5 
 
 BEC^D II AUG 
 
 INTER-L!BRAH|t 
 LOAN 
 
 JUL 2 1973 
 
 2 71-1PM78 
 
 ;JUN 1 2003 
 
 ^ \ 
 
 SENtONILL 
 
 OCT 1 1997 
 
 U. C. BERKELEY 
 
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