ARRIE F. BUTLER THWING 
 
 AN APPRECIATION BY FRIENDS 
 
 TOGETHER WITH EXTRACTS 
 FROM HER 
 
 CLEVELAND, O. 
 
 THE HEIyMAN-TAY^OR COMPANY 
 1899
 
 COPYRIGHT. 
 
 1899. 
 CHARLKS F. THWING.
 
 Contents, 
 
 I. INTRODUCTION v. 
 
 II. THE YEARS IN FARMINGTON i 
 
 MRS. FLORENCE GOODRICH-VARNEY. 
 
 III. THE YEARS IN VASSAR COLLEGE 4 
 
 PROFESSOR MARY AUGUSTA JORDAN. 
 
 IV. THE YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE - - 12 
 
 MRS. SARAH E. DAWES. 
 
 V. THE YEARS IN MINNEAPOLIS 24 
 
 MARY T. HALE. 
 
 VI. THE YEARS IN CLEVELAND 27 
 
 PROFESSOR EMMA M. PERKINS. 
 
 VII. JOURNAL OF A TOUR IN EUROPE 37
 
 flntrofcuction. 
 
 JO the interpretations of the life and character of 
 Carrie F. Butler Thwing, which gracious friends 
 have made, it is fitting that certain statements of mat- 
 ters of fact be added. 
 
 Carrie Frances Butler was born in Farmington, 
 Maine, 30 April, 1855. Her father, Francis Gould But- 
 ler, was, as is said of him in a sketch written by his 
 daughter, a " quiet, country gentleman." He was pos- 
 sessed of large abilities of many kinds. He was 
 primarily a banker, but he was also a great 
 citizen. During a life of eighty years he was the 
 most conspicuous man of his town and of that 
 part of the State in which he resided. Her mother, 
 Julia Wendell, is in the sixth generation directly de- 
 scended from Evart Jansen Wendell, the immigrant an- 
 cestor of a family, long distinguished in American life 
 and letters. A woman of great vigor of mind and body, 
 she has throughout a long life given, and is still giv- 
 ing, herself, with great enthusiasm, to the concerns of 
 her home, her church, and her community. To Mr.
 
 vi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and Mrs. Butler were born four daughters, of whom one, 
 and she the youngest, alone lived to reach mature years. 
 
 Among the chief facts of this life, besides those 
 referred to in the following pages, are: the preparation 
 for college in the Wendell Institute, under the charge of 
 Julia H. May and Sarah R. May ; the entrance into Vas- 
 sar College at the beginning of the academic year of 1872; 
 the retirement from Vassar College, because of ill health, 
 near the middle of the Junior year ; and the taking up 
 of residence in Cambridge, in the fall of 1879, having 
 at that time married Charles F. Thwing. She lived 
 in Cambridge until 1886. For the four years 
 following 1886, her home was in Minneapolis; and 
 in the fall of 1890 she removed to Cleveland, where on 
 the 24th of April, 1898, she died. To her were born 
 three children, one in Cambridge and two in Cleveland. 
 
 Of the journal which forms the larger part of this 
 volume, it should be said that it was written in the 
 course of the journey which it describes. At the close 
 of a day or of a period, Mrs. Thwing recorded the im- 
 pressions of the interval which it covers. She had no 
 thought, at the time of writing, of printing what she 
 wrote. The writing was done simply for the purpose of 
 fixing impressions. The record is now printed by me 
 chiefly for the reason that it embodies the qualities of 
 her mind and heart in a better way than almost any-
 
 INTRODUCTION. vii 
 
 thing else that she has written. It is printed as she 
 wrote it, with the exception of certain omissions of a 
 personal character. I may add that I have thought of 
 printing also certain of her letters together with some 
 extracts from articles of her writing, but I shall not, at 
 least at present. 
 
 In a letter written to his brother Carl, soon after the 
 death of his wife, under date of i2th January, 1778, 
 L,essing says, " they say it is only praise of one's self to 
 praise one's wife." To those who knew Mrs. Thwing 
 it is as needless, as it would be unfitting, for me to praise 
 her. Should the book fall into the hands of those who 
 did not know her, I can only say, as I^essing wrote to 
 his brother Carl also of his own wife, ' ' but if you had 
 only known her." C. F. T. 
 
 24 April, 1899.
 
 Il)ear0 in jfatmtngton. 
 
 church seemed very large and all the faces new 
 and strange the Sabbath that I joined the "girls' 
 class" at the Old South. The kindly pastor (Mr. 
 Howard), and superintendent (Mr. Merrill), knew 
 where the strange child would find a welcome. From 
 the moment in which I was made to share the lesson, 
 reading the texts from Carrie's Bible, I was possessed 
 with the home feeling in regard to that church and 
 Sunday-school which has always remained. Her dig- 
 nity and grace were so combined, even at that early 
 age, that I became a willing captive to the charms 
 whose fetters tightened with the passing years. And 
 it may not be surprising that after thirty years I can 
 readily recollect to the veriest trifle the garments she 
 wore that day. 
 
 Somewhat later our new pastor, Mr. Marden, formed 
 a class for the study of "Pilgrim's Progress." Here we 
 found help in Carrie's "marked references" in the same 
 little Bible, and had the kindly loan of helps upon the 
 subject to be discussed, from her home library. 
 
 Still later, at the time of her conversion, how 
 precious that Bible became to her; and I learned to love
 
 2 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 my own the better for the new light that had fallen 
 from hers. 
 
 The grave old doctor placed his foot upon his trunk 
 and poised a vial upon his thumb and finger. I knew 
 the gestures so well that I hastened to turn my face 
 before he pronounced "No more school this term!" 
 But instead of tears, the happy surprise of a smile. 
 
 A thrifty, saucy, and brilliant geranium bloomed 
 upon my window-sill. Learning that the same fever 
 had stricken me from which she was seriously ill, Carrie 
 had forgotten her own woes in order to relieve mine. 
 Words can never express the eloquence of that sermon ! 
 Flowers far more rare and costly often fail to reach my 
 heart, but a gleam of the single scarlet geranium still stirs 
 my pulses. And when we went from the "May School," 
 it was out of love for her and that kindly deed that 
 I wore "the single scarlet geranium" upon my gradu- 
 ation dress. 
 
 The winter day was drawing to its dose when the 
 door of an invalid's room opened to admit a huge express 
 package. The contents proved to be the softest, warmest 
 and handsomest California blanket obtainable. A com- 
 plimentary note from Carrie explained that when she 
 received the gift of a pair of blankets she could
 
 CARRIE F. SUTLER THWING. 3 
 
 not refrain from dividing their warmth and beauty with 
 her friend. 
 
 The evening before my visit to a large city was 
 passed with Carrie. We talked of the churches I should 
 visit, the excursions to places of historical interest, and 
 the libraries and art galleries to be seen. As we said 
 good-bye she placed a sealed letter in my hand, "not to 
 be opened until you are home-sick." What school-girl, 
 visiting a Canadian city for the first time, failed of home- 
 sickness? And the seal was broken to find a crisp 
 American greenback of generous size, to be taken 
 at once to the money-changers; and before the money 
 was spent I had learned many lessons through her 
 generosity. 
 
 When we consider that these acts were performed 
 by a child, spontaneously and without suggestion from 
 others, is it a wonder that many have been blessed 
 in her ? 
 
 My pen gladly presses forward to the Christmas day 
 when it was my privilege to introduce to her my life-long 
 friend and her future husband. I remember, too, 
 another day, ten years later, when, for an hour, she 
 and I left our little children and sat again under the 
 trees on the river bank. 
 
 FLORENCE GOODRICH-VARNBY.
 
 H?ear$ in Dasear College. 
 
 )MEN'S education in the United States twenty-five 
 years ago was far less a matter of course than it is 
 today. There was a flavor of adventure about it that 
 was absorbing, if not final. Hardly any group of women 
 gathered in the few institutions claiming the title of 
 higher, without some at least who felt high purpose 
 and keen, if vague, ambition. There was a pulse of 
 expectancy in the air of dormitories and of class-rooms. 
 The present stretched alluringly far and wide, full of 
 suggestion, infinite with possibilities. The result was 
 that most of us felt ourselves to be as vaguely 
 powerful as our surroundings were indefinitely stimu- 
 lating. In the routine of our deeply significant, though 
 somewhat submerged lives, our sense of imperfection 
 and inefficiency took on the aspect of everlasting 
 tentative. We had all the consolation of eternal 
 youth in our absorption in what we were doing. The 
 reflection from the wide outlook of our teachers 
 attached to our view of ourselves and, atoms as we 
 found ourselves in the impersonal life about us, we 
 secured compensation in the sense of identity and of share 
 in all stages of that life. So most of us felt more courage
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 5 
 
 and took greater risks than we would have shown at 
 home. The corporate life embraced and supported us in 
 so many ways that it was no wonder that we thought it 
 endless, nor that, as parts of it, we fancied ourselves 
 serene and imperturbable. Our teachers and our friends 
 sometimes wondered at this daring. They were seldom 
 without surprise at the difference between the quiet, 
 uninsistent girl before she went to college and the appar- 
 ently reckless member of one of the four classes. 
 
 To this day I remember the feeling of buoyant, almost 
 insolent, well-being that used to pervade the crowds in 
 the Vassar halls. I shall never forget how after one had 
 got thoroughly into the atmosphere, misfortune, calam- 
 ity, death itself and carking anxiety seemed to withdraw. 
 Later notice of them seemed intrusive, spiritually imper- 
 tinent, properly relegated to the short vacations, or to the 
 end of the college year. Even the friendly services owed 
 and rendered to our friends lost force and poignancy by 
 repetition and by becoming part of a system so big that 
 fear was swallowed up in organization and in inefficiency. 
 For four years the ordinary college student of those early 
 days was one of the immortals. Theory and experiment 
 supplied the touch of the infinite that is the hopeful side 
 of the unfinished and the incomplete. We were lost in a 
 maze of propitious conjecture and found ourselves in 
 every prosperous happening about us. I do not know
 
 6 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 that we expected anything definite of ourselves or of our 
 way of living. We were still too young for that, but we 
 did feel that all time was ours and that it was ours for 
 the same inconclusive uses that we were making of it 
 then. We were perfectly familiar with the proverbial 
 philosophy about mortal man and fleeting time, but for 
 us time stayed and the mortal put on immortality. Duty 
 lost much of its imperative and took on privilege and 
 wide spaciousness for easy endeavor. The costly and 
 careful system about us seemed made that we might work 
 out the profitable experiments we felt ourselves to be. 
 Even physical health ceased to be a problem; we took it 
 as it came with a serene interest in complications as 
 aspects of variety, at once pleasing and remunerative. 
 We had the confident appetite for life resulting from the 
 preparation and self-denial which had brought us to 
 college and had kept us in ignorance of what our freedom 
 and immunity cost. We were all hungry for experience, 
 and most of us were quite ignorant of what it meant. 
 We assented to propositions about sorrow and the lot of 
 man, but we felt that sorrow was interesting and, in a 
 high sense, ornamental. Ulysses, the much-enduring, 
 was a hero with strong claims on our sympathy ; and 
 strength was synonymous with efficiency. 
 
 So our life went on in symbol for some of 
 us, in dumb show for others, but there was every-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 7 
 
 where a sense of more being intended than was ex- 
 pressed, I am sure. I, for one, felt that we were 
 living in a character writ small against possibilities 
 practically infinite. On the chance of entertaining 
 angels unawares, it was well to be patient with 
 folly and eccentricity. In the vast reaches of human 
 development, present disagreeableness never seemed 
 material for crises. Doubtless there were persons of our 
 age who felt small anxieties, possibly suffered from 
 narrow incomes, or from excessive diffidence, but we 
 were easy about them after all on the ground that they 
 would see the error of their ways and come to rest in the 
 strong sweep of the ideal life as it moved forward. Then 
 there were some ungracious beings who fumed and fretted 
 about the misfits of human life, others who, clothed in the 
 little brief authority of their learning, moral superiority 
 or social position, strutted offensively and made ugly 
 caricature of themselves in their callowness, but we felt 
 that they would work in finally, and meantime they 
 added to the complexity of the scene before us. 
 
 In this temper of ours, the history brought to 
 us down the tide of the years was no less ours 
 than that spread out day by day on the reading room 
 tables, and ours no less than the contributions doled 
 out to us at the end of the corridor by the teacher 
 who stood guard over the legal trust represented by
 
 8 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 every batch of United States mail. By degrees we 
 came to feel ourselves indestructible. Privileged with 
 an all-embracing privilege. At least this was the 
 experience of many who, like myself, were keenly 
 sensitive to the influence of the corporate life about us. 
 The emphasis on the communal personality seemed to 
 extend our boundaries and make us all vital at every 
 point of contact with the past or the present, the ideal or 
 the real. 
 
 My experience had been increasingly of this sort 
 when one day I heard a new voice in the recitation 
 room. It did not have the assertive ring with which I 
 was so familiar that I no longer listened to it. The 
 speaker was a slender, pliant- figured girl, and what she 
 said cut curiously across our ordinary class-room utter- 
 ance. It was intensely suggestive, almost alien. One 
 of my neighbors touched my elbow and whispered, 
 "She's been reading Emerson; she's from Maine." In 
 the light of this information I tried to account for the 
 impression of aloofness that I had gained, but to no avail. 
 Neither reading Emerson nor coming from Maine would 
 explain this curious mixture of pathos and insight and 
 conclusiveness. One of her classmates said of her, 
 "Isn't Carrie awfully mature? I wonder if all the 
 people where she lives were born furnished with ready- 
 made Emerson ? " I listened with interest, for it did not
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 9 
 
 seem to me that the most notable feature of what I used 
 to hear from Carrie was its resemblance to Kmerson's 
 essays. Her manner showed a like individuality. There 
 was a subtle difference between her chance joining in the 
 group of girls energetically discussing some matters 
 beyond the fire- wall in the corridor, and that of the other 
 students. Her smile, slight, delicate, and somehow sug- 
 gestive of gentle indulgence, was ready, but fleeting. 
 She carried with her always the air of one whose interests 
 were radical and self-supporting. I used to notice that 
 we always seemed to have been an episode in a much 
 more comprehensive experience she was having before 
 we appeared. To this she returned with satisfaction, 
 but without ardor, when we called for no further atten- 
 tion. Most of us, I think, never got within the inclosure 
 of her deepest experience, and few of us felt any certainty 
 that we had ever really come into her serious interest at 
 all. It was soon rumored that Carrie was disappointed 
 in the college, that she found too many of us lesson- 
 learners, instead of students, that she supposed we would 
 care less about what our teachers thought of our recita- 
 tions and marked them for, and more of what we could 
 get out of study. There were discussions about the j ustice 
 of this characterization of Carrie's, but we finally decided 
 that our temper was natural, our way of living spon- 
 taneous, and likely to last. We heard, too, that Carrie
 
 io CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 was very delicate and obliged to husband her strength 
 much more carefully than the rest of us did. We re- 
 flected on our nightly luncheons of potted ham and 
 lady-cake, our neglect of the dinner hour when the view 
 from Richmond Hill proved more than ordinarily at- 
 tractive, our satisfaction in wasting good hours of care- 
 fully scheduled time to make up for them by breathless 
 minutes of exhausting concentration of mind on our work, 
 and into the midst of our satisfaction at our own coarser 
 endurance crept a feeling of awe of Carrie. What was 
 the law of the world where she dwelt apart? What 
 were its rewards? Her companionships were after the 
 same remote sort. The common ground was not that of 
 conviction, nor of cheap enthusiasm, but of the fine 
 essence of character. Yet it was not a thin, poor, nor 
 gossamer substance. For her insight was not concerned 
 with mere spectacle. Under the shows of things she 
 sought for the soul and for the permanent principle. She 
 had a fine scorn for the petty, the shifty, and the devious. 
 The innocent mummery in some of our social forms had 
 no spell to bind her glancing fancy or her practical 
 sagacity. It was clear to the least observant of us that she 
 drew from other sources of supply than ours, and judged 
 by other standards, and was impressed by other values. 
 But we had hardly suspected all this and begun to 
 concern ourselves with what it might portend when we 
 learned part of Carrie's story only in time to realize
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. n 
 
 dimly what it must have meant to her that her daily life 
 was lived in the very shadow of death. Small wonder that 
 she had larger store of the ideal than we. Her appeal to 
 the absolute was in the nature of things more direct than 
 ours, her relation to it more intimate. We dared question 
 whether her limpid, attentive glance had gained any of 
 its gentle, humorous persistence from looking death in 
 the face, and from bearing with pain. Was her generous 
 scorn the revolt of a strong spirit ? We began to see how 
 her difference from us had arisen. Her freedom in bonds 
 was a spiritual criticism on our cheery delusion of 
 the incomplete as the infinite. What her relation to us 
 was, some of us, and those, perhaps, who owed her 
 most, could never know. Spiritually, she dwelt apart, 
 and when one day we learned that she had left college, 
 we wondered whether we had helped or hindered, jarred 
 or helped to harmony the fine-drawn chords of that 
 experience so exceptional in the midst of our strenuous 
 self -expansion. We did not forget her. She had made 
 herself a part of our history at its very sources, and we 
 always felt that in losing her we had lost possibilities of 
 indefinite and always interesting importance. Some- 
 times, with a reminiscent smile at our crudeuess and 
 callowness, we have wondered whether a gracious blind- 
 ness withheld her keenest inquiry, or whether the urgent 
 claims of her short, full life already asserted themselves. 
 
 MARY AUGUSTA JORDAN.
 
 H>ears in 
 
 JHE fall of 1879 will always be full of pleasant memo- 
 ries to those who then formed the parish of the 
 North Avenue Congregational Church of Cambridge. 
 They had called as their pastor the Rev. Charles F. 
 Thwing, and his acceptance of the call had given the 
 most complete satisfaction. 
 
 The ordination and installation services took place 
 on September 25th, 1879, and a short time before that 
 event, the young minister was united in marriage to Miss 
 Carrie Frances Butler, a native of the same town as him- 
 self. It was an ideal union based upon the true love that 
 only congenial souls can feel. She was especially fitted 
 for the position she was to occupy, not only by intellec- 
 tual abilities which were of the highest order, but also by 
 the Christian graces that always adorn a consecrated life. 
 
 Not wishing at once to assume the cares of house- 
 keeping, Mr. and Mrs. Thwing engaged board in the 
 parish. Three homes in the parish successively opened 
 their doors to receive them. In one of them, in October, 
 1880, their eldest daughter, Mary, was born. In the first
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 13 
 
 year of her babyhood they removed to their third home. 
 After spending a few happy months there, they began 
 housekeeping in a house on Arlington Street, Cam- 
 bridge, purchased for them by the father of Mrs. Thwing. 
 There they formed what was ever known among the 
 parish as an ideal home. 
 
 Mrs. Thwing entered with enthusiasm into all the 
 plans of the new pastor for work among his people. 
 With simple dignity and a gracious word for all, she soon 
 gained a warm place in their hearts. This love of the 
 people was fully reciprocated by her, and she loved to 
 visit them in their homes, especially when in sickness or 
 trouble. These tender relations continued throughout 
 the seven beautiful years of her Cambridge life. 
 
 She was greatly interested in the temperance reform 
 and joined the Cambridge Union soon after making her 
 home in that city. In September, 1880, she became its 
 President, and proved herself such an efficient officer, 
 that, as one of its members expressed it, her coming 
 among them was indeed a "Godsend." 
 
 In March, 1882, she made an eloquent plea before 
 the Board of Aldermen at the City Hall, against grant- 
 ing license for the sale of intoxicating liquors in any part 
 of Cambridge, especially in Ward Five, where she 
 resided. Such was her interest in temperance instruc- 
 tion for children, that in compliance with the request of
 
 14 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 the Superintendent of Public Schools, she addressed the 
 teachers upon that subject, in the City Hall, on the 
 afternoon of February 25th, 1884. Other addresses 
 followed, which were favorably received. At their close 
 the Superintendent said that hereafter teachers would be 
 required to give the instruction so urgently called for. 
 
 The W. C. T. U. were permitted to furnish the 
 books required, and the Cambridge Union, of which Mrs. 
 Thwing was president, had the pleasure of furnishing the 
 books for Wards One and Five. 
 
 This cordial endorsement of her work was a great 
 encouragement to her. Her modest self-possession well 
 fitted her to speak in public, and she was never at a loss 
 to express herself clearly upon any subject. 
 
 In company with a lady of the parish who was ever 
 ready to assist her in any good work, Mrs. Thwing dis- 
 tributed votes at the Cambridge polls in the interest of 
 temperance. Surely in this cause, so dear to her heart, 
 she was indeed a blessing to the city of which she grew 
 so fond as the years went on. 
 
 She soon found plenty of work in the parish which 
 she was only kept from doing to the utmost by want of 
 physical strength. After the birth of her little one she 
 was naturally interested in all the problems of mother- 
 hood, and she reorganized, in the church, a "Mothers' 
 Meeting, ' ' which had fallen into neglect.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 15 
 
 In an informal way, the topics which are so inter- 
 esting to mothers, were discussed. Many who had the 
 privilege of attending those meetings, still recall Mrs. 
 Thwing's helpful talks there, and the bright way in 
 which she related some of her own experiences. 
 
 It was found that owing to home cares and outside 
 engagements, the ladies of the parish could not sustain, 
 with success, two distinct meetings. On this account the 
 Mothers' Meeting was merged, after a while, in the 
 I/adies' Prayer Meeting, which, of course, included 
 others besides the mothers of the parish. 
 
 These meetings were fairly attended and were very 
 interesting, especially those in which Mrs. Thwing took 
 part. We were always sure to receive from her a clear 
 interpretation of the passage of Scripture we were con- 
 sidering. Her mind seemed to grasp every phase of 
 the subject, and her terse words often flashed a new 
 light upon what had before seemed obscure. As one of 
 her friends remarked, "a few words from her meant 
 so much." 
 
 Her heart was with the Sewing Circle and she was 
 present at the meetings whenever possible. She had to 
 be excused from much active work there, as she was 
 never physically strong, and the ladies were glad to have 
 her reserve her strength for lines of work that were 
 fully as helpful to the church.
 
 16 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 The love and appreciation of the Sewing Circle was 
 shown by the gift to Mrs. Thwing of a silk quilt, each 
 lady furnishing the material and making a block for its 
 completion. The time of presenting the gift was oppor- 
 tune, for it was given her when suffering from an attack 
 of illness. She assured one of the ladies that it gave her 
 no end of diversion to look it over, while convalescing, 
 and to speculate upon whose hand made each particular 
 block. Very soon after coming to the parish Mrs. 
 Thwing took an active interest in the Sunday-school 
 and became the teacher there of a class of young ladies. 
 Mrs. Frank Foxcroft, who was principal of the Primary 
 Department at the time, had long felt the need of an 
 Intermediate Department. She thought that Primary 
 scholars, graduated into that department, would receive 
 instruction there which would better fit them for enter- 
 ing the main school. 
 
 Mrs. Thwing fully shared in this belief, and took 
 such active measures that an Intermediate Department 
 was successfully organized in the fall of the year 1884. 
 
 She at once assumed the duties of principal, and 
 although it was an extra strain upon her limited strength, 
 she loved the work more and more as the time passed. 
 
 Before going abroad with her husband, in 1885, she 
 was careful to provide a substitute, so that the work of 
 the department might be carried on in her absence. She
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 17 
 
 remembered "the dear boys and girls," as she was wont 
 to call them, by sending them messages, and sometimes 
 a letter, to be read to them in the Sunday-school. This 
 kind thought of them was keenly appreciated by her 
 charge, and they gave her a royal welcome on her return. 
 A special programme was prepared as a surprise, and 
 Mrs. Thwing was deeply touched by these tokens of 
 affection. 
 
 She again assumed her place in the school, but after 
 serving them only one Sunday she was obliged, by ill 
 health, again to place the work in the hands of her sub- 
 stitute. Before her entire recovery Mr. Thwing received 
 and accepted a call to the Plymouth Church, Minneapolis, 
 so that she never resumed the work. The Intermediate 
 Department always retained a warm place in her heart, 
 and it still exists a power for good in the North Avenue 
 Church. 
 
 Conspicuous among the objects of Christian work 
 which Mrs. Thwing was glad to aid, was the missionary 
 cause, both Home and Foreign. In the first year of her 
 connection with the church she became a member of 
 the Auxiliary of the Woman's Board, formed by a union of 
 the Shepherd and North Avenue Churches of Cambridge. 
 
 That she felt a growing interest in the work was 
 shown by her increased subscriptions from year to year, 
 and by consenting to serve as the First Directress of the
 
 i8 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Auxiliary. The meetings were held, alternately, in each 
 church, and it was Mrs. Thwing's duty to take charge of 
 those held in her own church. 
 
 She made her little daughter, Mary, a member of the 
 Auxiliary at the age of twenty months, and she became 
 herself a Life Member of the Woman's Board. That the 
 daughter might share equally with her mother in this 
 honor, the Sunday-school made Mary also a Life 
 Member. Her love for this cause never ceased, and one 
 of her bequests was the sum of a thousand dollars to 
 this Board. 
 
 While the Foreign work appealed thus largely to 
 her sympathies, Mrs. Thwing was none the less interested 
 in Home Missions. The Woman's Home Missionary 
 Association, to which the Sewing Circle of the North 
 Avenue Church became an Auxiliary, shared equally in 
 her interest with that of the Woman's Board. She was 
 glad to assist in its work, both by becoming one of its 
 officers, and by the contribution of literary articles. One 
 of these papers upon Missions in New Mexico was 
 thought so opportune that it was printed as a tract by 
 the Association and sent forth for wide circulation. 
 She was Vice- President of the Association from 1882 to 
 1889, and the report for 1883 has this item : 
 
 "Mrs. Thwing, of Cambridge, made a special plea 
 for an enlarged treasury, in view of the great demand
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 19 
 
 for schools and missionaries among the ignorant of 
 our land." 
 
 At the Third Annual Meeting of the Woman's Home 
 Missionary Association, in November, 1883, the "Work 
 at Home' ' for that year gives the following extract from 
 her public address : 
 
 "Mrs. Charles F. Thwing, of Cambridge, followed 
 Miss Wakefield with what she said might be called an 
 ungracious message, and yet she thought it ought not to 
 be so called. The sacrifice which giving involves, is 
 almost the only one now left to us as Christians, and we 
 ought to hold on to that with tremendous energy. We 
 must regard this money that we give, not as so many 
 dollars and cents, but as the embodiment of so much 
 moral power. It has mouths to speak, it has feet to run, 
 it has hands to work; shall this be given to self or to Christ? 
 
 "The opportunities which are now open to us become 
 responsibilities, and responsibilities which must be imme- 
 diately assumed. What is done must be done quickly; 
 a few years will decide whether our country shall be 
 Christ's, or Anti-Christ's. This is a personal question, 
 a question which every one of us must answer. ' ' 
 
 This forceful appeal was listened to with great in- 
 terest, and the ladies of her own church who were 
 present, felt a pardonable pride in the able manner with 
 which their pastor's wife handled her subject.
 
 20 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Without neglecting, as we have seen, any of these 
 lines of Christian service, Mrs. Thwing proved herself a 
 most diligent woman from the fact that she accomplished 
 so much literary work. For this she was especially fitted 
 by her natural tastes and by her college training. 
 
 She was the author of six articles which appeared in 
 the Boston Journal upon the different texts or versions 
 of Scripture from which scholars, at that time, were 
 making their revision of the translation. These articles 
 were complete and scholarly, showing careful study and 
 deep research. 
 
 It was during her residence in Cambridge, that Mrs. 
 Thwing assisted her father, Mr. Francis Gould Butler, 
 in writing the history of Farmington, Maine. Its excel- 
 lence as a local history is well known, and the help she 
 thus gave her father was to her a labor of love. 
 
 She was ever interested in the literary subjects which 
 occupied her husband. It was during his pastorate in 
 Cambridge that they, together, prepared the volume en- 
 titled, "The Family An Historical and Social Study." 
 She also wrote editorials for the Golden Rule on many 
 different subjects. That some of these were educational, 
 goes without saying, for in educational matters she took 
 a lively interest. In addition to her parish calls she 
 often visited the public schools and sometimes gave talks 
 to the children.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 21 
 
 In whatever plans were made for the young people, 
 she took a genuine interest, and those who were then 
 boys and girls remember her with affection. 
 
 During the last part of Mrs. Th wing's stay in Cam- 
 bridge a cooking school was established under the super- 
 vision of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union. 
 She was greatly interested in this and entered into the 
 work with zeal. The school was opened in that part of 
 Cambridge known as "Dublin. ' ' Its aim was to teach the 
 women of that locality how to prepare better food for 
 their families. This work among such a rough people 
 proved too exacting, and Mrs. Thwing was obliged, ere 
 long, to give up her share of the labor into other hands. 
 
 Although she was not physically able to do all she 
 wished, she was always ready with words of kindness 
 and sympathy. In such interviews she had the courage 
 of her convictions, and was always just in her decisions 
 in regard to right and wrong. One of her most intimate 
 friends writes: "She was so true to herself that even in 
 her love and sympathy for her best friends she would not 
 sacrifice one whit of the truth. ' ' Her personality was 
 very strong and it was her great charm, but back of 
 all this was a character so well balanced, a brain 
 so active, and a heart so true, that nothing could 
 unhinge her.
 
 22 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 To this friend Mrs. Thwing was especially helpful, 
 and she testified that ever since their association in Cam- 
 bridge she has always written to her "for help over the 
 hard places." 
 
 When his people heard of Mr. Thwing's decision to 
 accept his call to Plymouth Church, Minneapolis, there 
 was universal sorrow among them. It was hard to lose 
 one whose ministry had been so acceptable, and so fruit- 
 ful of good results. It was also hard to give up to 
 another parish, one who had so endeared herself as the 
 pastor's co-worker. 
 
 Previous to entering their new field of work, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Thwing spent a few weeks at her father's 
 home in Farmington, Maine. While there the house 
 was destroyed by a fire which swept away a large part 
 of the village. Through this trying time Mrs. Thwing 
 was calm and self-reliant, and when it was known that 
 the house must burn, she worked to the last moment in 
 helping to save their valuables. 
 
 When the time came for Mr. and Mrs. Thwing's 
 departure to Minneapolis, a goodly number of their 
 Cambridge friends went to the station in Boston to see 
 them off on the outgoing train. Without any of them 
 knowing of the other's intention, each of these friends 
 brought something in the way of refreshment for the 
 travelers. The seats about them were piled high with
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 23 
 
 good things, and they were deeply touched at this 
 expression of love from so many of the dear people whom 
 they were leaving. Mrs. Thwing seemed to take away 
 with her nothing but pleasant memories of Cambridge. 
 
 In letters to her friends there were frequent expres- 
 sions of her great love for the old home. "We were 
 so happy," she writes, "those seven years, and we are 
 so happy now, in all the friendships there formed." 
 
 Another time she writes, "I wonder if you have any 
 idea how proud I am of the continued love and remem- 
 brances of my Cambridge friends. ' ' 
 
 "The dear church is never forgotten, God bless it, 
 and all that love and labor for it." 
 
 It was gratifying to her Cambridge friends to hear 
 how she still loved them, and to know that although, 
 afterward, she formed the most pleasant associations, 
 and met with the kindest of friends, she always retained 
 a peculiar fondness for the city and church to which she 
 
 came as a bride. 
 
 SARAH E. DAWES.
 
 in flMnneapolie. 
 
 |N the fall of 1 886 Mrs. Thwing came to Minneapolis 
 with her husband as he entered upon his duties as 
 pastor of Plymouth Church. She took up her share of 
 the work with enthusiasm, aiding in all ways that 
 she could. 
 
 Her keen, bright, cultivated and consecrated intel- 
 lect, good judgment, and pleasant ways of meeting people 
 fitted her to be a leader of rare power. Plymouth Church 
 has had, in all its history, but slight experience of the 
 blessing of a pastor's wife. We were very happy in the 
 thought of having such an one come among us, who 
 could help to fill out her husband's work in so many 
 waj's, touching, as she could, lines of activity for which 
 he could find neither time nor opportunity, and making 
 friends with a large circle. 
 
 One of the crying needs of the church at that stage 
 of its history, was some power that should draw its 
 members together in living fellowship. This work, the 
 new pastor and his wife set themselves earnestly to do. 
 In all social gatherings she was a power, winning all by 
 her brightness and cordiality. She received many calls 
 during that first winter, and made many, and somehow
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 25 
 
 got a hold on people who had been slipping out of the 
 fold. It was wonderful how she and her husband man- 
 aged to remember the names and faces of so many people, 
 and there is nothing more winning to the ordinary mortal 
 than the compliment of being remembered from a mere 
 introduction. She has explained that this seeming 
 triumph of genius was really the genius of taking 
 pains, and how they used to recall to each other, after 
 a social gathering, names, and faces, and dress, and try 
 to fix some peg to hang a memory to. 
 
 She was a great help in the Women's Meetings of 
 the church, attending when she could, and speaking 
 most effectively upon occasion. An address of hers at a 
 Union Missionary gathering is still recalled, when she 
 spoke with great power on the consecration of wealth to 
 the Lord. 
 
 She aimed to keep in touch with all the work of the 
 church, rather than to give herself to any one branch, 
 thinking she could thus best aid her husband. Her 
 voice was often heard in the church prayer-meeting, and 
 always with acceptance. Such gifts of mind and heart 
 fitted her to be a leader in the church and community. 
 Could she have done nothing more, it was much to have 
 such a woman stand at her husband's side in full and 
 beautiful accord with him and his work, and a constant 
 strength and inspiration to him.
 
 26 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Would that health might have been hers, also. That, 
 coming a stranger to the place, she could have made a 
 deep impression in the brief months that it was given to her 
 to work, proves her power. For, as so many times before 
 in her life, ill health blighted her hopes and ambitions. 
 Even what she was able to do, was done in weariness and 
 painfulness. After a few months her health broke 
 down completely, and during almost the remainder of her 
 husband's residence in Minneapolis, she was either a 
 shut-in invalid at home, or away seeking health. 
 
 To a comparatively few was it given to know her 
 large gifts and loving heart. Such a life carries with it 
 a special plea for immortality. It was planned on too 
 large a scale to come to its best amid the limitations of 
 this life. The fine intellect that was always cramped and 
 hindered by a weak and suffering body, must somewhere 
 be able to work out its thoughts freely and fully. For 
 her, we think of death as but a portal into larger life. 
 There, all beautiful promise of mind and soul shall have 
 its fruition, and we doubt not that in the "many 
 mansions" she finds opportunity to use all gifts and 
 graces of mind and character among those who "serve 
 
 Him." 
 
 MARY T. HALE.
 
 HJears in Cleveland 
 
 |HEN, in 1890, the Western Reserve University 
 welcomed a new President, Cleveland Vassar 
 Alumnae were glad to find in the wife of President 
 Thwing a former college acquaintance and friend. 
 Having been introduced in the winter of 1877, in Boston, 
 to Carrie Butler, I was glad to find, in 1890, that the 
 person whom I had always remembered for her bright 
 and cordial manners, was Mrs. Thwing, and that she was 
 now one of our Cleveland college women. In the four- 
 teen years that had elapsed since her college days, she 
 had lost none of her college enthusiasm or ideals, and 
 brought to her Cleveland life singularly strong college 
 spirit and interest. She entered heart and soul into her 
 husband's work as the President of a large and growing 
 university. She had a rare appreciation of all the 
 elements that tend to strengthen the foundation and 
 growth of the different departments of a university. 
 Where some women are narrow and contracted in their 
 views and, therefore, in the advice they give, she was 
 always broad, with a very just estimate of relative values.
 
 28 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 A university founded in a city needs to be popular with 
 the home institutions, if it is to have as large a field for 
 usefulness as is possible. Mrs. Thwing joined with her 
 husband in appreciating all the elements of strength in a 
 city like Cleveland, and always delighted to honor and 
 commend every influence that tended toward helping and 
 supporting the university. She had rare judgment, rare 
 common sense, rare business sagacity, rare and sterling 
 integrity. From the first all persons were her friends, 
 because she had the power of keeping friends. In true 
 friendship one never measures what is given and taken, 
 and delights only in giving. When one who knew Mrs. 
 Thwing well thinks of her, one must always accord to 
 her the highest honor in friendship, that of having been 
 a true friend. 
 
 In her relations to the students of the university, 
 she at once took an active part. With her husband, 
 she met the students at various receptions and ban- 
 quets and was always a bright and ready hostess. 
 She took particular interest in each and every student, 
 gathering and keeping in her mind various incidents of 
 college history peculiar to each. When a student had 
 graduated and gone, if the name was mentioned by pro- 
 fessor or instructor, there would come a ready response 
 with some kindly anecdote, showing the clear and definite 
 impression that each one had left with her. Most
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 29 
 
 of us realize, I think, that such memory and interest 
 come only from rare, unselfish appreciation and a per- 
 sonal sense of responsibility. 
 
 One never approached Mrs. Thwing with the case of 
 an individual student who needed help, in money or 
 other ways, without being sure of a ready and responsive 
 listener and a willing helper. The rare opportunities for 
 helping which appeal to the President's family in univer- 
 sity matters, were never lightly regarded by Mrs. Thwing 
 or considered as tiresome and uninteresting. She realized 
 fully that each individual case was as important to the 
 person concerned as if there were not hundreds of just 
 such cases, and always gave untiring interest, sympathy 
 and help. Universities are often spoken of as corpora- 
 tions, as something devoid of a soul. That was not 
 Mrs. Thwing's conception of a university, and as far as 
 possible she gave to all that came within her reach the 
 touch of life that institutions as well as individuals need. 
 
 Mrs. Thwing met the women of her own Col- 
 lege, Vassar, soon after coming to the city, when, at 
 her request, a reception was given for them at the 
 College for Women. All were delighted with her cordial 
 and hearty interest in all college questions. She was, a 
 little later, a guest at a Vassar dinner at the Hollenden, 
 and I remember hearing her say as we left the hotel, 
 ' 'Are not college reunions delightful ? ' '
 
 30 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Although doing so much, in time, money and 
 thought, for her husband's university, she never forgot 
 her allegiance to the numerous activities in which Vassar 
 women manifest their loyalty. She was a member of 
 the Vassar Students' Aid Society and was especially 
 interested in the completion of the Maria Mitchell 
 Endowment Fund. She never ceased to value the sound 
 training given to Vassar women in the early days of that 
 college under President Raymond, and to hope for all 
 college women equally strong training. By her influence 
 in Western Reserve University she did much to make 
 possible for women the highest and best culture. 
 
 I am glad to remember Mrs. Thwing as a Vassar 
 woman, and to think that a mind peculiarly fair and just 
 in its estimates, had its college training under Vassar' s 
 roof. 
 
 Two children were born to Mrs. Thwing in Cleve- 
 land one a son, Francis Butler Thwing, born in Feb- 
 ruary, 1891, the other a daughter, Apphia, born in 
 August, 1892. If one thought he had sounded the 
 depths of her nature in considering and discussing with 
 her educational interests, he had only to talk with her 
 concerning children and home life to see the height 
 and breadth and depth of her heart and mind. Here 
 again, in spite of a nature naturally impulsive and ex- 
 ceedingly easily moved, she was sound and true in her
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 31 
 
 estimates, broad in her views, tender and loyal in her 
 considerations of children's interests and rights. She was 
 eminently philosophical and reasonable, and considerate 
 of every phase of child study. She was, with her hus- 
 band, one of the founders of the Froebel School in 
 Cleveland, a school which brings as fine teaching, pro- 
 portionately, into the kindergarten and primary, as one 
 usually finds in the highest departments of universities. 
 
 Her ready answer, when asked to join the Daughters 
 of the American Revolution, because it gave such an 
 interest in one's ancestors, was, "But I am much more 
 interested in my descendants than in my ancestors." 
 
 I happened to discuss corporal punishment with her 
 one day. She did not believe in it even for small 
 children, but did believe in reasoning, as with older 
 persons, and that children were as capable of being 
 reasoned with as their elders. This she always did, 
 and in her children's minds must remain a distinct 
 image of one who never coerced, who encouraged and 
 waited for the fulfillment of her expectations in their 
 conduct. 
 
 All the interests of her children, whether play or 
 work, were her own interests. When her daughter 
 Mary, now a Sophomore in college, entered the Central 
 High School in this city, her mother went with her and 
 spent the entire morning in seeing her registered and
 
 32 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 noting classifications, grades and systems with as much 
 interest as if personally connected with the institution. 
 Such intelligent appreciation and sympathy in educational 
 work is a very pleasant sight in this century of hurry, 
 bustle and carelessness about personal obligations. I 
 mention this one incident because it was so characteristic 
 of Mrs. Thwing's appreciation of her children's life. 
 
 A group of six or seven ladies in Cleveland formed, 
 four years ago, a Mothers' Club. Mrs. Thwing took a 
 great interest in their meetings and talks and contributed, 
 I am told, most valuable suggestions and experiences. 
 The members of this club were most sincerely attached 
 to one another. Their common interest in children 
 and child questions and problems drew them close 
 together. 
 
 Although Mrs. Thwing's residence in Cleveland 
 covered the short period of eight years, she had made her 
 influence felt in many more directions than those simply 
 of her home, church and university circles. 
 
 When any question of public interest arose in the 
 city, it always found a sympathetic and respectful sup- 
 porter in Mrs. Thwing. She had a true New England 
 conception of the close relation which all civic interests 
 should hold to the various households and individuals of 
 the city. When the law was passed in Columbus giving 
 women in Ohio the privilege of voting on all matters per-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 33 
 
 taining to schools, the women of Cleveland gave a 
 banquet in honor of the senators and legislators from 
 Cleveland who had supported the law. Among the most 
 prominent speakers of Cleveland, Mrs. Thwing responded 
 to a toast and won hosts of friends by her clear and 
 eloquent account of the workings of such a system in 
 Boston, and the statement of her belief in the value of 
 the expressed intelligence of women in school matters. 
 Any one who saw her as she spoke that night will always 
 remember the dignity and power with which she stated 
 her thoughts, and the charm of her manner in speaking. 
 
 In church affiliations, she was a member and inter- 
 ested worker in the Euclid Avenue Congregational 
 Church. She was always ready to help any poor and 
 struggling church, and having been asked to give 
 money to aid in starting a new Congregational 
 church, before promising her offering, drove to the 
 locality, examined the need in that community of 
 another church, and then gave willingly the sum desired. 
 This was a fair example of a characteristic trait. She 
 was generous, but always where she thought her 
 generosity would not be wasted. 
 
 She had a happy way of greeting members that 
 assemble at receptions given by the university. Singu- 
 larly quick in repartee, there was always a ready answer 
 for each new comer in the long line of guests. Few
 
 34 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 women have the power to interest themselves in so many; 
 few women, who have the power, have the inclination to 
 exert it. For interest, genuine kindly interest in 
 others' occupations and welfare requires true unselfish- 
 ness on the part of the one manifesting it. 
 
 Sincerity and unselfishness were prominent traits in 
 Mrs. Thwing's character. She looked for the best in 
 each; she had the magnetic power which brings the best 
 in each to the surface. Possessed of a great sense of 
 humor, she always saw the weakness of human nature, 
 but with no unpleasant feeling. She was good company 
 in a rare sense, because she loved humanity in itself. 
 She manifested in herself the best elements of New 
 England ancestry and training, united with the kindness 
 and tolerance that broaden any nature. 
 
 She had fine discrimination in literature, and this 
 was always apparent in her conversation. 
 
 Her home shows the nature of the one who planned 
 and furnished it. In it are reflected her brightness and 
 taste. She shaped her life on high and lofty ideals, her 
 thoughts were noble, her actions sincere and honorable. 
 Such a life, whether short or long in years, is long in the 
 beneficent influence which it leaves in family, university, 
 church and community. 
 
 EMMA M. PERKINS.
 
 Journal of a Gout in Europe, 
 1885.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 37 
 
 EDINBURGH, 26 July, 1885. 
 
 Events have been so crowded and impressions so 
 many and so strange that it is difficult to recall events or 
 analyze impressions. The voyage, begun at 9 130, July 1 1 , 
 and finished at about the same hour July 2 1 , was monoton- 
 ous, and yet in many ways it was all we could have asked. 
 It did not add to our list of friends, hardly to that of 
 acquaintances, unless I except a very remarkable man, 
 by name, plumber by trade, trigomist by pro- 
 fession. He has had three excellent wives whom he 
 tires not of extolling, and they together with his feats 
 in plumbing formed the staple relaxation of the voyage. 
 He is a type of a self-made man, egotistic, aggressive, 
 self -poised, yet whole hearted and generous. He might 
 have sat for Howells' Silas L/apham, except that a relig- 
 ious faith has refined certain coarse features of the suc- 
 cessful Colonel. 
 
 Liverpool we found smoky and dirty, a true com- 
 mercial city which was more honored by our imme- 
 diate departure than it could have been by our staying. 
 We fled to Chester. And what shall I say of Chester ? 
 What shall I not say of Chester? Of her delightful 
 Queen Hotel, where we ate our strawberries and cream 
 by an open door leading out into a charming old-fashioned
 
 3 8 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 garden with marigolds and primroses; what of her quaint 
 shops and streets, her queer houses, her ancient walls, 
 her grand cathedral? Our first view was obtained by a 
 ride perched on top of a tram car. This procedure did 
 not bring us into close association with the nobility and 
 gentry but accomplished our purpose of getting an idea 
 of the town. We left the car at the river and wandered 
 about the castle by the Dee, then up into the town and 
 through the curious rows to the Cathedral. Grand, 
 grand old church, a fitting temple for God and for man's 
 worship. The service was read in the I^ady Chapel at 
 half-past five and we stayed and bowed with the wor- 
 shipers assembled. The dreary sing-song monotone 
 of the reader and the responses chanted by the choir 
 turned into mechanism the wonderful, almost inspired, 
 words of the service. The singing of the general con- 
 fession seemed almost blasphemous. But in the vaulted 
 arches themselves seemed to be worship without words. 
 It is wonderful to me how men of that rude age could so 
 make stone praise God. Infinity and aspiration! No one 
 can enter and not feel them. 
 
 We went home. It seemed a little primitive to take 
 a candle; to find no spring bed. But we were in a con- 
 dition to declare that gas and spring beds were vulgar 
 modern innovations. I am not sure but that gas would 
 have seemed an anachronism after such an afternoon.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 39 
 
 An early rise, an early breakfast and a comfort- 
 able cab, and half -past eight found us bowling away 
 towards Hawarden Castle, the home of Mr. Gladstone, 
 six or eight miles away in Flintshire, Wales. We 
 found the same beautiful, level, cultivated country 
 through which the cars brought us to Chester. Every- 
 where the eye is charmed by the evident thrift, the sub- 
 stantial character of every man-made object, be it cause- 
 way or church, and by the taste and beauty with which 
 everything is planned and decorated. The miles of 
 hawthorn hedge, interwoven with ivy, roses and honey- 
 suckle growing wild, were a charm to one to whom all 
 these are exotics. The Hawarden estate embraces a 
 territory ten miles by eight. We rode a mile perhaps 
 after passing the gate before reaching the house. Its 
 grounds seemed to be in a state of nature and could hardly 
 have yielded much revenue. The mansion, solid, sub- 
 stantial, like everything else, was yet fine. In the old 
 Castle, however, we found our richest treat. All of 
 Scott's novels came trooping before my mind as we 
 explored moat and drawbridge, keep and battlement and 
 dungeon. It is only a ruin, but singularly picturesque, 
 clothed with the all-covering ivy. Our conductor was a 
 Welshman ardently attached to the family. With pride 
 he showed us an enormous oak, not less than three and 
 one-half feet in diameter at the butt, which was felled by
 
 40 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 the united force of the male Gladstones: "Master Glad- 
 stone, Master William Henry, Master Henry Neville, 
 Master Stephen E. and Master somebody else. " ' ' Master 
 Gladstone," he said, "has given up the estate to Master 
 William Henry, who is his heir, and best of all Master 
 William Henry has an heir born last week." The old 
 man's joy illustrated the strength of English family 
 pride. Pointing to the windows of Gladstone's library the 
 guide said: "ten thousand volumes, sir, and master of 
 every one of them." He was very loquacious as he 
 dilated on the past and present glories of the place, al- 
 though we understood his rapid delivery with difficulty. 
 Indeed, the first days we were in England we doubted 
 whether we understood the English language at all. We 
 are now conceited enough to believe that it is we who 
 speak English with purity. In the first place the names 
 of many common objects are different. Mews for stables, 
 tariff for rate, passage for ticket, guard for conductor, 
 luggage van for baggage car, underdone for rare, and 
 many more. We also notice that each class of persons 
 seems to have a different accent. The cabmen speak 
 differently from waiters, the waiters from shop-keepers, 
 the shop-keepers from railroad men, and so on with this 
 remarkable distinction, the higher up the social scale we 
 go the more they talk like Americans. The cabman we 
 had at Glasgow we simply gave up trying to understand.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 41 
 
 The Scotch, of course, have quite another dialect. The 
 driver who took us through the I^ake District compli- 
 mented me by saying that I spoke very good English, 
 better than any American he had ever seen, and he should 
 have thought me to be an English lady! 
 
 Getting back to Chester at about quarter-past eleven, 
 we were driven at once to the Cathedral where we had 
 tickets to an oratorio. It happened to be the triennial 
 festival, and a choir of three hundred voices with a picked 
 orchestra performed Gounod's Redemption. We en- 
 joyed it intensely, although the vast spaces of the 
 Cathedral doubtless aided more the sentimental than the 
 artistic performance. The oratorio loses, in comparison 
 with Handel's Messiah, in the substitution of weak para- 
 phrases for the grand words of holy writ. The recita- 
 tive also grew monotonous. As I look back upon it, I 
 find it is the orchestral rather than the vocal parts which 
 linger in my memory, while with the Messiah the reverse 
 is the case. But it was a great privilege. We took lunch 
 in the interval of the oratorio, and it was half-past three 
 when we left the Cathedral for a walk round the walls and 
 a visit to the water tower. It was said that the Bishop 
 of Chester (Dr. Stubbs) does not approve these concerts 
 in the Cathedral and departs to the remotest corner 
 of his diocese at the time they are given. Dean Howson, 
 however, was present.
 
 42 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 To go back to the water tower. The inevitable 
 three-pence opened for us a museum which contained a 
 strange jumble of alligators' skins and elephant's teeth 
 with some objects of real interest. In the dungeon of 
 this tower the Earl of Derby's daughters, hostages for 
 Charles I, were confined. Looking down on the yard 
 below the tower were the remains of a Roman temple, 
 of which the pillars had been dug up in the town and 
 brought here and erected in what is believed to be their 
 original positions. The Phoenix tower, between the 
 Cathedral and the water tower, bears this inscription: 
 
 "King Charles I. stood on this tower and saw his 
 army defeated at Rowlin Moor, Sept. 24, 1645." 
 
 Walking round the walls we soon came to the river 
 Dee at the point spanned by the Grosvenor bridge, one long, 
 magnificent arch, the finest in England. Here a tram car 
 was taken and brought us to the Queen's just in time to get 
 our train for Windermere. This ride through Cheshire, 
 Lancashire and Westmoreland was a constant charm . The 
 country seemed like one vast park. The miles of haw- 
 thorn hedge intergrown with wild roses, poppies, honey- 
 suckle and daisies, as well as the neat stone houses and 
 barns covered with ivy and roses, were a delight to the 
 eye. We saw only peace and prosperity. 
 
 The little we have traveled on English railroads leads 
 to the conclusion that they are not so well conducted as our
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 43 
 
 own. The people do not seem to understand how to get a 
 train off, and in three out of five of the trips we have 
 taken the trains have been late. From Chester they 
 were late in starting. We find second class carriages 
 very good. The first class are not fine. They are up- 
 holstered in broadcloth, while second class have terry or 
 something of that kind. None of the carriages are too 
 neat and none approach the comfort of our common car, 
 much less that of the Pullman. The system of carriages 
 has some advantages over cars, particularly when you 
 have a compartment alone or with an agreeable com- 
 panion. It gives one a helpless feeling, however, to be 
 locked in, and on the whole I prefer the American system, 
 especially were I traveling alone should I desire it. 
 
 A bus ride from Windermere brought us to Bowness, 
 a mile and a half away, and the Old England opened its 
 charmingly hospitable doors. This is a true English 
 inn, plain and neat, yet thoroughly homelike and com- 
 fortable. Its grounds slope to Lake Windermere, and 
 there one finds numerous pleasure boats for rowing. 
 
 We were now in the Lake District, with beauties of 
 art and nature around us, with associations of poetry and 
 romance thronging upon us, and one day for all. I think 
 we made a wise choice. In the morning we went into 
 the little village church. Like all village churches that 
 we have passed, it is a low-bowed massive structure with
 
 44 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 square tower. One really fine window from Furness 
 Abbey adorns it. It is very plain to see what a powerful 
 influence the church wields in these communities. The 
 church is the central object in every town. It is always 
 ancient, venerable and venerated. Some way England 
 strikes us as a more Christian country than America. 
 Certainly it bears the marks of a more Christian country. 
 We have not failed to find a Bible in every room we have 
 occupied. In several places Scripture texts have adorned 
 the walls. Tracts and sometimes scrolls are in the rail- 
 road stations. But, most of all, the church seems to be 
 the pivotal point around which the lives of these towns 
 move. Notices of all kinds are posted in the vestibules. 
 I noticed in a wee church at Wythburn a notice for a 
 meeting for licensing the sale of beer, wine, etc. The 
 question has occurred to me are there not many disad- 
 vantages connected with the severance of church and 
 state ? The perpetuation of the church and of church 
 ordinances with us depends upon the liberality of the few. 
 We can't build or support cathedrals or parish schools. 
 
 A ride on the steamer from Bowness brought us to 
 Ambleside where we bargained with an intelligent young 
 fellow to drive us to Keswick and the Falls of Lodore. 
 The region through which we passed was very pretty. 
 While the lakes are smaller and the mountains lower 
 than at home, we were obliged to confess that the effect
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 45 
 
 was charming and beyond our anticipation. The moun- 
 tains are thrown together in reckless confusion, seem- 
 ingly piled and jumbled without design. On our way to 
 Keswick we rode under the ' 'dark brow of the mighty 
 Helvellyn." Scott's words seem to fit the gloomy tower- 
 ing mountain as no others could. We skirted the little 
 lakes of Grasmere, Rydal, and Thirby and struck the 
 beautiful Derwentwater just before we reached Keswick. 
 The whole ride bristled with interesting memories or asso- 
 ciations. In the little churchyard at Ambleside lay the 
 mortal of Harriet Martineau and of Dr. Arnold, while 
 just beyond were the Knoll and Fox How, the houses 
 made immortal as their residences. Rydal Mount, the 
 home of Wordsworth, a substantial stone house with well 
 kept grounds, lay just bej^ond. In the churchyard of the 
 little village at Grasmere we found the grave of Words- 
 worth, marked by a plain slate slab bearing the words, 
 WIUJAM WORDSWORTH, 
 
 Within the church a marble tablet to the memory of 
 the great poet is placed, simple and elegant. It is this: 
 
 "A true philosopher and poet, who, by the special gift and 
 calling of Almighty God, whether he discoursed of man or nature, 
 failed not to lift up the heart to holy things; tired not of maintain- 
 ing the cause of the poor and simple, and so in perilous times was 
 raised up to be a chief minister, not only of noblest poesy, but of 
 high and sacred truth."
 
 46 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Upon a stone marking the grave of one of his little 
 children were these lines: 
 
 "Six months to six years added he remained 
 Upon this sinful earth by sin unstained. 
 O blessed Ix>rd, whose mercy thus removed 
 A child, whom every eye that looked on loved, 
 Support us, teach us calmly to resign, 
 What we possessed and now is wholly thine." 
 
 At Wythburn we took a little lunch in an English 
 bar room, and, while the horse was resting, went into a 
 tiny church, said to be one of the smallest in the king- 
 dom. Like all churches it was venerable and solid, 
 though of the plainest possible description. To the 
 readers of Wordsworth it is known as the "Wee, modest 
 house of prayer. ' ' 
 
 A little thing interested me very much as showing 
 the regard of even the common people of England for 
 historical associations. The driver pointed out a consid- 
 erable heap of stones which he said was believed to mark 
 the grave of one of the Cumberland Kings before the 
 consolidation of the counties. The pile of stones had 
 lain there for centuries, and yet miles of stone wall had 
 been built about it without one of these tributes to the 
 memory of that ancient monarch being disturbed. 
 
 Lodore we reached by driving through Keswick 
 round the other side of Derwent water, by a romantic road 
 underneath wild overhanging crags. I^ow water robbed
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING, 47 
 
 the falls of its grandeur, but it was still beautiful, flowing 
 down its hundred feet of rock- worn path. It must justify 
 in its full glory every one of Southey's adjectives. 
 
 A plain, rather too plain, house awaited us, and after 
 tea we sallied out to find Southey's home and grave. 
 We plainly see that we are in a northern latitude by the 
 long twilight. We can read in the house at nine o'clock. 
 The Crosthwaite Parish church in the outskirts of the 
 town was the first object of our pilgrimage. This vener- 
 able church belonged to a very early date, although its 
 two sides show marked differences in architecture and 
 probably belong to different periods. Within its walls 
 lies a marble effigy of the poet, while a plain sarcophagus 
 marks his grave in the churchyard. Returning we sat 
 upon a seat in the stone wall and watched the sun set 
 behind the "westermost Wythop." Climbing a slight 
 eminence on our left brought us to Greta Hall where 
 Southey had his home and where Coleridge was his guest 
 for several years. A young ladies' boarding school now 
 occupies its spacious halls. 
 
 A quarter to eight on Friday found us on our way 
 northward. At Carlisle we took two hours for the 
 Cathedral. In one of the aisles repose the remains 
 of my old friend Paley, and over his grave I stood think- 
 ing what if I were to strike my foot against a watch. 
 Some friends to do him honor (?) in 1876, removed the
 
 48 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 pulpit in which he used to preach and substituted a 
 carved marble pulpit. In the north transept is a large 
 stained glass window inserted to the memory of the five 
 children of Archbishop Tait, who died in the adjoining 
 Abbey while he was Dean of Carlisle. At Carlisle is a 
 window just put in by officers, singularly beautiful, rep- 
 resenting Joshua, Gideon and Maccabaeus, the warrior 
 Israelites. The east window, put in in the i4th century 
 is said to be one of the finest windows in the kingdom, 
 but we found ourselves unable to appreciate it. It is 
 immense in size and mixed and minute in design. 
 
 Glasgow, like Liverpool, bears the marks of a com- 
 mercial city, smoky and dirty. We were most unfortu- 
 nate in our selection of a hotel, and we left early the 
 morning after our arrival rather cross. But we paid our 
 respects to the truly grand old Cathedral which stands in a 
 perfect state, and is wonderfully embellished by its exqui- 
 site windows. Each cathedral boasts some preeminence. 
 Glasgow claims the most perfect crypt in existence. And 
 wonderful indeed are the underground churches, perfect 
 in their architecture, pure Gothic and decorated with 
 exquisite windows. A window representing our Saviour 
 gave to me the most perfect idea of how he might have 
 looked, of any picture I have ever seen. It was the work 
 of the Munich Art School. It was in these crypts where 
 Sir Walter Scott places the meeting between Rob Roy
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 49 
 
 and Frank Osbaldistone. The metropolis with its com- 
 manding statue of Knox lay back of the Cathedral, the 
 old Barony church close by its side. 
 
 Friday, July 24, we spent in the Scottish lakes, our 
 course being Glasgow to Balloch by rail passing Dum- 
 barton; Balloch to Inversnaid by steamer on Loch 
 Lomond, Inversnaid to Sconachlacher by coach, five 
 miles, lunch there and then steamer on Loch Katrine to 
 the Trossachs, through the Trossachs and by coach to 
 Callendar, Callendar by rail to Edinburgh. The day was 
 warm and the jaunt too long. On boat and coach I was 
 made miserable by smoke. The tobacco of Scotland is 
 the vilest I ever smelled, and pipes are the rule. I was 
 in torture from the Trossachs to Callendar while five out 
 of eleven passengers puffed clouds of vilest smoke into 
 face, eyes and nostrils. The smoking habit seems to 
 divest a man of all regard for the rights and feelings of 
 others. 
 
 On the whole Scotland has hardly charmed us as 
 much as England. The country is rougher and less 
 cultivated. The scenery in the Scottish lakes disap- 
 pointed us and we felt quite willing to place Rangeley 
 beside it. Yet it must be admitted Loch Lomond is 
 beautiful. Its surface was not glaring as was that of 
 Windermere the day we crossed it. That peculiar glassi- 
 ness I never remember to have seen before.
 
 50 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 LONDON, 3 August. 
 
 Our first view of Edinburgh completely charmed us, 
 and the charm was never broken during the few days of 
 our stay. I have serious doubts whether the pleasant 
 days at Edinburgh will be duplicated during our trip. 
 We took rooms at the Cockburn House close to the 
 station, and in walking to them the picturesque features 
 of the old city burst upon us at once. At our right were 
 the beautiful Princess gardens stretching down the ravine 
 dividing the old city from the new until they meet the 
 remarkable massive Greek stone buildings occupied by 
 the Antiquarian Museum and the National Portrait Gal- 
 lery. In front of us was piled up the old city, house 
 upon house, tier upon tier, up the side of what must have 
 been a precipice. First impressions are strong, still I 
 can conceive of no circumstances in which Edinburgh 
 would not have appealed to us as singularly attractive. 
 Upon Sunday I was prepared to rest, and damp and misty 
 weather setting in, there was little to tempt me out. In 
 the morning, however, we worshiped at St. Andrews 
 Free Church. I say worshiped, but there was very little 
 element of worship in the bare service. No organ, no 
 fine hymns, but only a miserable transcription of the 
 psalms beside which Dr. Watts is as Homer. Everything 
 about the place was as bare and stiff as the service. The 
 seats were high, straight-backed boxes with fast-closed
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 51 
 
 doors. The sermon was by Principal Rainy, the chief 
 antagonist of Robertson Smith. It was delivered with- 
 out notes and was a clear and forcible exposition of the 
 truths taught in the parable of the sower. 
 
 We walked up to St. Giles Cathedral, where John 
 Knox held forth in the stormy days of Scotland's history, 
 if indeed Scotland can be said to have any days that were 
 not stormy. L,ike all cathedrals it has been the work of dif- 
 ferent ages, the oldest parts dating back to the year of 
 1 1 20. Its history is closely interwoven with that of the 
 country. It was partially burned during the wars with 
 England. In it are buried Murray and Montrose. Here 
 on the 23d July, 1637, t^ 16 Dean (James Hanna) read the 
 English service book, the first and last time it was ever 
 read in St. Giles. The Dean received a stool at his head 
 and was glad to retire. This lack of knowledge of the 
 Scottish people on the part of Charles I. , who sought to 
 change the religion of a country by a proclamation, illus- 
 trates the character of the man and of those methods which 
 cost him his life. In this church also James VI. bade his 
 people good-bye upon his departure to assume the crown 
 of England. There is something very beautiful to me 
 in the way the life of these people is written in these 
 churches. 
 
 The Parliament House which stands by the side of 
 St. Giles brought us into close touch with the history
 
 52 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 of the country. Some indifferent portraits of dis- 
 tinguished citizens were its chief interest. In the square 
 separating the two buildings, formerly the churchyard, 
 lies the remains of the man who swayed the history of 
 Scotland in its crucial year. "I. K., 1572," is the only 
 inscription. I can not love him, stern, unloving man 
 that he was, but the times needed him and the results of 
 his work have been for the welfare of his land and the 
 honor of his L,ord. 
 
 The old Tolbooth prison, made famous by Scott, 
 stood close to the Cathedral. It is gone now, but a heart 
 laid in the brick pavement marks its site as the Heart of 
 Mid-Lothian. Walking down High street we passed the 
 Canongate Tolbooth, where Montrose was imprisoned. 
 Crossing the bridge we took a car at the Postoffice, 
 made a circuit of the town, and got home in time for 
 dinner. Our ardor not in the least quenched, we sal- 
 lied out after dinner and walked down to the Grass- 
 market, the scene of the Porteus riot. The place 
 looked innocent enough, yet it required but little imagi- 
 ination to bring back the scenes of that night. We 
 found ourselves near the castle, and a long climb up 
 a dirty close brought us to the summit of the hill it 
 crowns. We got a little idea of how the poor people 
 live by our walk through the close. Poverty here, as 
 everywhere, is dirty and degrading. Yet in Edinburgh
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 53 
 
 it seems to have some picturesque features. It is inter- 
 esting to see the women and children come out of these 
 closes into the main streets, as bees out of a hive, and sun 
 themselves in the light of happier lives. The women, 
 bareheaded, have their knitting in their hands and stand 
 and talk together. The children, barefooted as well as 
 bareheaded, play about. The streets in Edinburgh seem 
 always full. The old fish-wives were quite a feature in 
 their short skirts and with their masculine manners. 
 
 Tuesday morning we visited the Albert Memorial 
 Statue which we found rather disappointing; but the 
 National Picture Gallery well repaid a visit. It was very 
 full in its productions of Scotch artists, Sir David Wilkie, 
 Andrew Geddes and James Drummond. The scenes 
 from Scotch history: Porteus Mob, Montrose, Mary 
 Stuart's Abdication, etc., were strikingly executed. 
 Several Van Dykes were well worth seeing. 
 
 At eleven o'clock we made a trip to Rosslyn Chapel 
 and Castle, returning for dinner. This exquisite Chapel 
 proved most interesting from an architectural point of 
 view. Built in the fifteenth century, it presents an ad- 
 mirable example of the decorated Gothic. The carving 
 is delicate and exhibits every variety possible of 
 design. Each capital is different from every other. 
 The Castle, a mere ruin, though picturesque, gave us 
 some insight into the method of living in the feudal
 
 54 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 times. Two men ridiculously drunk were about the 
 Castle. We have seen already more drunken men than I 
 see in a year at home. Everybody seems to drink. 
 
 The evening we fulfilled a cherished plan of climb- 
 ing Arthur's Seat and viewing Edinburgh by moonlight. 
 The days are so very long here that we did not start until 
 after half -past eight. The ride took us by Holyrood and 
 round the Salisbury Craig. A wonderful Craig this which 
 sits as a crown upon the brow of the hill. We wound 
 round the hill watching the rising moon and the flicker 
 of the gas lights as they appeared in the houses of the 
 city. We passed St. Leonard's and Jennie Dean's cot- 
 tage, saw Craig Millar in the distance and the house 
 where Prince Charles slept the night before Prestonpans. 
 The ascent to Arthur's Seat after leaving the carriage 
 proved too much and we were obliged to content our- 
 selves with a view from a less lofty height. Beautiful 
 indeed was the city lying beneath us, with the fine old 
 Castle in the centre, the delicate spire of the Scott monu- 
 ment rising to its height, the lights glowing and spark- 
 ling from window and from street. 
 
 Wednesday morning we visited Holyrood. To this I 
 had looked forward with the greatest interest. The palace 
 is rather imposing from without but most bare and cheer- 
 less within. Finished in the plainest style, it bears no 
 vestige of magnificence or royalty. Its rooms, all sug-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING, 55 
 
 gestive of sorrow, treachery and crime, are not pleasant. 
 It has seemed easier in Scotland than anywhere else to 
 forgive Mary Stuart her crimes, and to execrate her 
 enemies and the times in which she lived. The chapel, 
 a mere ruin, sown with the dust of many Scottish kings, 
 had some architectural interest. 
 
 I must speak of a curious incident which the guide 
 at Edinburgh Castle told us as he showed us the room 
 where James VI. was born. He says, in 1818, when the 
 authorities were repairing the walls of that room, a coffin 
 was found in which were the remains of an infant 
 wrapped in royal robes. The coffin plate bore the initial 
 " I . " Query : Who was the child ? 
 
 The Abbey Hotel at Melrose received us, and our 
 room looked directly upon a wall of the old ruin. A 
 ride of five miles brought us to the Tweed, which cross- 
 ing, we came to Dry burgh Abbey, a somber, desolate 
 spot. Here Sir Walter Scott has found a resting place 
 among the ashes of his ancestors. The birds have 
 built their nests above him and keep loving watch 
 over his tomb. The Monastery here was the best pre- 
 served we have seen and gave us a good idea of the 
 life of mingled jollity and asceticism. 
 
 Melrose by moonlight! It was a little disappointing. 
 The moon was slow in rising and at eleven was not far 
 above the horizon. It was a weird and melancholy sight
 
 56 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 to see those massive piles of stone standing alone and 
 speaking so eloquently of the times that are no more. 
 The old cathedrals are to me very inspiring. I 
 love to think of the long centuries in which the light of 
 Christian truth which they have held aloft has never 
 been extinguished. But the ruins of a cathedral are unut- 
 terable melancholy. 
 
 An early start in the morning gave us a visit to 
 Abbotsford and brought us back to Melrose for the eleven 
 o'clock train to Durham. Some of the curiosities at 
 Abbotsford interested us greatly. Such was the crucifix 
 held in the hand of Mary, Queen of Scots, before her 
 execution. The ride to Durham was* uninteresting and 
 attended with some changes and delays. We arrived 
 a little after four and walked directly to the Cathedral. 
 It is beautifully situated on the bank of the river Wear, 
 along whose bank, as seems common in England, runs a 
 path. It was a steep climb which brought us to the 
 Cathedral just as the afternoon service was over. This 
 venerable church dates back to the latter part of the nth 
 century and retains much of the Norman work. In it 
 repose the remains of St. Cuthbert at whose shrine the 
 very stone was worn by the knees of worshiping pil- 
 grims. The venerable Bede lies in the chapel at the rear 
 of the church.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 57 
 
 We reached Peterborough in the middle of the after- 
 noon and took a bus to the Angel where we ordered din- 
 ner, and proceeded to the Cathedral. Our visit here was 
 in some respects the most interesting of all those paid to 
 the churches. The building was in process of repair. 
 There were therefore few visitors and we had the verger 
 to ourselves. The architecture of this Cathedral is par- 
 ticularly grand, of the late Norman style. The apse 
 is very fine, while the vaulting of the I/ady Chapel 
 is exquisite. Here is the tomb of Catharine of 
 Aragon, unmarked, and here also was buried Mary, 
 Queen of Scots, until her removal to Westminster. 
 
 It was bed time when we reached Ely and the L,amb 
 gave us a comfortable home for the night. The restora- 
 tions of the Cathedral here are very complete. The 
 stone is clean and pure and in its exhibitions of dif- 
 ferent styles of architecture this church is prominent. 
 Its octagon lantern with its rich decorations is 
 grand. Its two Chapels, Bishop Alcock's and Bishop 
 West's, are excellent specimens of decorated and perpen- 
 dicular architecture, both very rich. 
 
 Our first sight of London was at about two o'clock, 
 Saturday, August 2nd. We rode from the Liverpool street 
 station to Bloomsbury square, and thence to Camden for 
 our trunk. Our room in Southampton street, which we 
 had engaged in advance, we found three flights up and
 
 58 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 very poor. It made us a little homesick, but the middle of 
 the next week we are to have two good rooms on the first 
 floor. Breakfast and tea we take in our room and dinner 
 at a nice restaurant near by. We have not been 
 over well pleased with English meals, particularly break- 
 fast, at which it seems to be the custom to serve only 
 bread (cold) with chops or steak. No potato, no break- 
 fast cake, no porridge, no fruit. Butter is universally poor. 
 We have seen some good, and think ourselves fortunate 
 if it is not absolutely rank. It does not seem to be the 
 fashion to give napkins except at dinner. This was so in 
 Edinburgh. Everything is eaten on one plate. Roast 
 beef is almost invariably delicious. Steak is no better than 
 ours. Prices we have found dear. Breakfasts at hotels 
 have ranged from 2s.6d. to 35. 6d. and literally nothing 
 to eat but meat and cold bread. 
 
 We took a little walk on High Holborn and went 
 into some book shops, etc. Everything seems intolerably 
 dirty. The burning of soft coal gives everything a 
 grimy look and makes the air foul. It seems impossible 
 to fill the lungs with pure air. Sunday morning we 
 walked down to St. Margaret's church, near Westminster, 
 to hear Canon Farrar preach. It was a very unpleasant 
 walk, through poverty, wretchedness and filth, foul 
 sights and foul smells. The old church in which are 
 interred Sir Walter Raleigh and William Caxton presents
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 59 
 
 no remarkable features. A large, crowded house listened 
 to the sermon which was on the things which cannot be 
 shaken (Heb. xii: 27). He is a vigorous, energetic speaker, 
 reminding one of Phillips Brooks, and showing him- 
 self to be the same master of phrases as a speaker, that 
 we have found him to be as a writer. The service freed 
 from the Cathedral mummeries was quite endurable. We 
 took lunch at the Westminster Palace Hotel, and waited 
 there until three o'clock when the service in the Abbey 
 began. Canon Westcott spoke from the same text from 
 which Farrar preached in the morning. He was very 
 direct and vigorous. The testimony which he bore to 
 the value of the Bible was striking, coming from so 
 eminent a Biblical scholar. "The more I study the 
 Bible, the more I find it the Word of God." 
 
 In the evening we heard Stopford A. Brooke, whose 
 Bedford Chapel is near by. He had few hearers. Some 
 way Unitarian Christianity does not attract the people. 
 The service was similar to that of the Church of Eng- 
 land with Christ left out of it. His subject was a very 
 similar one to those of the morning. The sermon was 
 strong, and yet weak, where Unitarianism is and must 
 always be weak. It gave one nothing to rest on, but 
 turned man back upon himself. The infallibility of the 
 church is gone, the infallibility of the Bible is gone, man 
 has no other rule than himself. Mr. Brooke has a
 
 60 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 peculiar manner, strong and forcible, yet with a little 
 snarl in his voice. 
 
 Monday I found myself a good deal fagged and was 
 quite willing Charles should go out alone to find the 
 American minister and to do other necessary business. 
 After dinner, however, I felt equal to some exertion and 
 we visited the British Museum, which is close by. 
 
 The weather we are finding cold and stone buildings 
 rather uncomfortable. Every morning is damp and cloudy 
 with signs of rain, but before noon it clears away and 
 is moderately pleasant. We took a hansom Tuesday 
 and rode for an hour about the West End viewing the fine 
 residences and the parks. Buckingham Palace did not 
 look very attractive. In fact all the buildings are so 
 smoked and grimed that none of them can be said to be 
 really attractive. Hyde Park looked dreary. I expected 
 flowers in it. Indeed in seeing everything there is a 
 sense of disappointment which is hard to define. I sup- 
 pose we have so filled all these places with romance that 
 there is an unconscious drop in our feelings when we 
 find the people made of clay and the earth composed of 
 sand and loam. Even Westminster Abbey, to which we were 
 driven after our ride, was disappointing, though we found 
 everything we expected to find, and more. I was pre- 
 pared for the general dinginess of everything about it. 
 It seems to me sapolio might improve matters a good
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 61 
 
 deal. Besides, one never feels as he thinks he is going to 
 or as he expects to when standing in a place so full of 
 associations and memories. Not only are there here 
 monuments to the great and good, but there are hosts of 
 hideous, grotesque mortuary emblems, to people long 
 dead and forgotten, that are truly ridiculous. Indeed one 
 sees very few truly fitting memorials of the dead, but huge 
 sarcophagi; and towering, black cenotaphs with designs 
 of most wretched taste. A simple and fitting memorial, 
 one of the most fitting, was that to Sir John Franklin. It 
 was a simple tablet with his bust in relief above, and 
 below a carved representation of a frost and ice bound 
 ship. Below, the words: "O ye frost and O ye snow 
 and ice, praise him," and Tennyson's epitaph: 
 
 "Not here! the white North has thy bones; and thou 
 
 Heroic sailor soul, 
 Art passing on thine happier voyage now 
 
 Toward no earthly pole." 
 
 Of his wife is said: "She has gone to seek him in 
 higher realms. ' ' 
 
 At half-past one the Abbey was cleared for the fun- 
 eral services of General Grant. We had excellent seats 
 in the poet's corner. A more fitting service it would be 
 hard to conceive. The place, the time, the character of 
 the music and the address were all most appropriate. 
 The eulogy of Canon Farrar was such that even I could
 
 62 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 take no exception to it. It concerned him as a general, 
 rather than as a man or statesman, and closed with 
 eloquent words upon the oneness of the two nations. 
 Representatives of the Queen and of the Prince of Wales 
 were in attendance, as well as the Duke of Cambridge 
 and Marquis of I^orne. Chief Justice Waite and Mr. 
 Gladstone were also present. 
 
 , 1 6 August. 
 
 The past ten days have been filled with sightseeing 
 of the most heterogeneous character. The diary has 
 been as follows: 
 
 Wednesday, Aug. 5. House of Commons; Mme. Tissaud. 
 
 Thursday, Aug. 6. Windsor Castle, Eton, Stoke Pogis. 
 
 Friday, Aug. 7. Tower of London; Shops. 
 
 Saturday, Aug. 8. St. Paul's; Shops. 
 
 Sunday, Aug. 9. Spurgeon. 
 
 Monday, Aug. 10. House of Peers, Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Tuesday, Aug. n. Inventions, South Kensington. 
 
 Wednesday, Aug. 12. British Gallery. 
 
 Thursday, Aug. 13. Crystal Palace. 
 
 Friday, Aug. 14. Zoological Gardens. 
 We have found many places of public interest closed 
 to visitors and put under strict police surveillance. 
 This is one of the penalties paid for living in a monarchy. 
 It is very evident that the "dynamite scare" did scare. 
 Such places as the Tower and Parliament House do not 
 open without an open sesame. Thus we were fortunate
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 63 
 
 to have to this latter place a letter given us by Mr. 
 Howard to Henry Richard, M. P. The Parliament 
 House, vast as it is in extent and tall as are its towers, 
 does not strike one as imposing. It sits too low, directly 
 on the river from which it is seen to the best advantage. 
 It partakes of that same grimy appearance which seems 
 to be a characteristic of all London buildings. It might 
 be four hundred rather than forty years old as far as its 
 appearance goes. I felt inclined to make comparisons 
 unfavorable to it with our own white Capitol. And 
 when inside I did not find myself inclined to yield a point 
 to the British Capitol. Its carvings are in wood and 
 stone rather than in marble. The central hall, octagon 
 in form, bears comparison with our rotunda. But it has 
 no dome. The House of Commons, small, rather plainly 
 furnished, surprised me. I was put in a little cage above 
 the Speaker and at first thought I was in a committee 
 room. It proved to be a day in which every one was 
 airing his peculiar grievance, and we heard several Irish 
 members speak. The manner of speaking seemed to us 
 halting and defective. It was, however, for the most 
 part devoid of attempts at oratory which sometimes make 
 our solons ridiculous. Some of the paintings in the cor- 
 ridors were fine, and all interesting from an historical 
 point of view. It shows the continuity of English his- 
 tory to find pictures of such diverse elements.
 
 64 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Our visit to Windsor proved something of a failure. 
 The day turned rainy before we got home. The place is 
 also perfectly besieged with cabmen and guides and small 
 boys all determined to get their penny or shilling. We 
 were marched through the state apartments in a kind of 
 quick metre time without a chance to ruminate on the 
 immutability of Kings and Empires. Palaces are rather 
 dreary places. They seem more like prisons. St. 
 George's Chapel proved interesting, but into the Albert 
 Chapel we were unable to penetrate (dynamite). This 
 Chapel and the vaults contain the ashes of the family of 
 George III. , also those of Henry VIII. , Jane Seymour and 
 Charles I. Here the Queen has erected monuments to 
 her father, her aunt, the Duchess of Gloucester and her 
 uncle, King Leopold, "who was to her as a father and to 
 whom she was as a daughter." The monument to the 
 Princess Charlotte is very fine for one with so elaborate a 
 design. It represents the mortal body and the freed 
 spirit. Weeping friends surround the body, angels, one 
 of whom bears her infant, accompany the immortal part. 
 
 The stables, be it said, were also interesting, very 
 models of cleanliness. The Queen has only about one 
 hundred and twenty horses. We saw her favorite saddle 
 horse, Jessie, but none of the horses seemed to us 
 wonderfully fine.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 65 
 
 Leaving Windsor after dinner we crossed the river 
 to Eton where we wandered about in the various rooms 
 under the conduct of an amiably garrulous old man. He 
 knew us to be Americans and took us into his sanctum 
 where he had a picture of Abbot Lawrence whom he 
 used to know, as well as Daniel Webster and Edward 
 Everett, as he declared. They used to visit his old mas- 
 ter. At Stoke Pogis we stood in that little graveyard 
 where the "rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." Gray 
 himself is buried there, although his monument is in the 
 Park some fifty rods away. 
 
 Driving on to Slough in a pouring rain, we took 
 our train, which landed us in due time in London. 
 
 Mr. Richard kindly obtained from the war depart- 
 ment a pass admitting us to the Tower of London, and 
 thither we bent our steps. A friendly Beefeater (buf- 
 fetier) met us and was the first object of interest, in his 
 costume descended from Henry VIII. It was a blood- 
 curdling place and one thoroughly fitted to fill us with 
 thanksgiving that we live in happier times. The old 
 Norman Chapel (St. John's) of the White Tower is the 
 purest specimen of Roman architecture that we have yet 
 seen. The most pathetic place in England I believe to 
 be the little chapel of St. Peters, where lie buried the 
 many victims of revenge and hate, who have laid down 
 their lives in this unhallowed place, Anne Boleyn,
 
 66 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Jane Grey, Thomas More, Earl Essex, Lord Guildford 
 Dudley, and many others. It gives one a realizing sense 
 of what it is to live in happier times. 
 
 St. Paul's is vast. It did not seem altogether pleas- 
 ing after the grand Gothic. No other architecture is so 
 fit for the worship of God. When its decorations are 
 complete St. Paul's will be magnificent, but it will not 
 be a church. The monuments seemed to me on the whole 
 less grotesque than those of Westminster Abbey. For 
 the most part they commemorate army and navy officers, 
 prominent among whom are Wellington and Nelson. 
 The whispering gallery, reached by a long staircase, 
 is an amusing example of the echo. The old fuddy- 
 duddy in charge rather hurt the effect. 
 
 After St. Paul's we wandered around in Paternoster 
 Row among the book-shops. There are times when it 
 seems we must come upon old Sam. Johnson or stumble 
 upon Steele or Addison. Of all shops the book-shops 
 seem the most unpretending. 
 
 The Tabernacle and Spurgeon were the objects of 
 our pilgrimage Sunday morning. An immense audience, 
 in a plain building, were our first impressions. No 
 organ, no choir, the hymns lined off by the minister, 
 who was the one point around which everything revolved. 
 The face of the man was repulsive, but in the sermon 
 there was little to condemn as there was little to praise.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 67 
 
 It was devoid of all eloquence, of all fine writing, of all 
 rhetoric, of all illustrations, but was pervaded by the 
 right spirit. This sermon, too, was on the sure founda- 
 tions: 2 Tim., ii:i9. The sermon was evangelistic in 
 the best sense. The congregation was composed of quite 
 ordinary people. 
 
 Through Mr. Phelps we obtained a pass for the 
 House of Peers. It was a rare privilege to hear in the 
 course of the hour we were there the Marquis of Salis- 
 bury, Earl Eddisleigh, Earl Denman, Earl Milltown, 
 Earl Granville and some others. 
 
 We also paid our last visit to Westminster Abbey. 
 On the whole my impression of disappointment does not 
 wear away. We were glad to see the Jerusalem Cham- 
 ber, a noble room and full of noble memories. The cor- 
 onation chair was a sorry sight. I suppose English sov- 
 ereigns will continue to be crowned in it as they have 
 been since the days of Edward the Confessor, but it is 
 well to cover its ugliness with crimson and gold. It is in 
 the retrospect that the Abbey appears to be all that it 
 ought to be, all that it really is. One forgets then all 
 that is incongruous and thinks only of the grand, the 
 pathetic, the sublime. 
 
 Wednesday, 12 August. 
 
 We gave this day to the National Gallery in Traf- 
 algar Square, and a delightful day it proved. We had
 
 68 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 an opportunity of studying Turner upon his various 
 sides. In his earlier paintings, which resemble Claude, 
 we find little to admire. But his later pieces are sui 
 generis. No other artist has ever attempted to paint, 
 much less succeeded in painting, motion. The fire, the 
 whirlwind, the storm under his brush become reali- 
 ties. We had here our first Raphaels, one recently 
 purchased at a cost of .70,000. We sat before it a long 
 long time waiting to be stirred and moved but we waited 
 in vain. The picture which had the most power over 
 me was Ary Scheffer's St. Augustine and his Mother. 
 Those faces are wonderful. Scheffer excels not in flesh 
 and blood but in soul and spirit. Those calm, intense 
 faces, so like each other in form and purpose, clearly out- 
 lined against the cold, grey sky, the sphinx in the dis- 
 tance, live in the memory and I believe always will. 
 
 Monday. 
 
 We started in the morning to pay our homage at the 
 shrine of that old heathen, Thomas Carlyle. In order to 
 kill two birds we went to London bridge to take a Chelsea 
 boat so that we might have a ride on the river. It was 
 an "experience," and one which I think will serve a 
 life time. London bridge seems to be the aortic valve of 
 London. But as its stream is so impure perhaps it would 
 be better to liken it to the -vena cava. We wandered about 
 amid all manner of smells, and finally gave a boy a penny
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 69 
 
 to get us on board the boat. The view of the Thames 
 Embankment, of Cleopatra's Needle and the Parliament 
 House repaid us, however. Our good friend Baedeker, 
 which has proved invaluable to us, was left at home and 
 we had to depend on our Yankee tongue. We walked 
 over two miles to find Cheyne Row. This word I had 
 always pronounced in my mind Sheen, or the principle of 
 chicanery. Mr. Beach called it Kine after the analogy of 
 chiropodist. Charles split the difference and called it 
 Chine like church, but when we arrived on the ground 
 the old teamster who gave us our start, called it Chaney. 
 Such a vaporous thing is fame that we could with diffi- 
 culty find a man to tell us where dwelt the modern 
 incarnation of selfishness. The shutters were closed and 
 For Sale placarded. Charles gazed long down the hole 
 where the returned manuscripts were wont to be depos- 
 ited. It was a dismal, cheerless place, and it would take 
 much love to make it endurable to any proud and sen- 
 sitive woman. 
 
 The afternoon we made our second attack on the 
 British Museum, but it was almost as futile as the first. 
 I never feel very wise, I often feel very ignorant, but I 
 don't think my ignorance ever has so sensible a weight 
 as when I am in the British Museum. 
 
 Tuesday found us wandering amid the delightful 
 fine arts collection of the South Kensington Museum.
 
 70 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 It was so cold that I was forced to come home before 
 spending half the time we wished. It is a museum 
 exquisitely arranged and containing beautiful things 
 enough to turn one's head. The afternoon I stayed in 
 for repairs and mended my clothes. 
 
 The most delightful day spent in England was that 
 which we passed at Cambridge, Wednesday, August igth. 
 An express train landed us without a stop upon the 
 banks of the Cam. A hansom drove us at once to 
 Girton. The building is attractive upon first view. 
 Only two stories high, it stretches out wing upon wing 
 catching all possible air and sunshine. If only Vassar 
 buildings could have been erected on such a principle! 
 Everything seemed pleasant and the air of the place was 
 refined and scholarly. The bath-room, bed-room and sit- 
 ting-room of a suite were cosy and comfortable. The 
 library, a pleasant room, contained a choice though not 
 extensive collection of books. The recitation rooms looked 
 thoroughly feminine in their blue felt rugs and blue table 
 spreads. 
 
 Driving back to the city we were left at King's 
 Chapel, that beautiful church for which Cambridge is 
 famed. In it we found it was difficult which to admire 
 more, the stone pillars and arches worked into the most 
 delicate fan tracery in the roof, the wood carvings of 
 the screen or the exquisite windows with their chaste
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 71 
 
 designs and rich colourings. Its general architec- 
 ture is that of the latest perpendicular Gothic slightly 
 influenced, noticeably in the screen, by the renaissance. 
 From King's Chapel we went to the University library 
 where, through the courtesy of a graduate who happened 
 to be drawing books, we were admitted to the rooms and 
 alcoves. This library, with several others, receives by 
 law a copy of every book copyrighted in the kingdom. 
 It has thus amassed a vast number of books; and it seemed 
 to us like a museum for keeping books rather than a 
 working library. Here, as well as at the British Museum, 
 the cumbrous written catalogue is in vogue. A very 
 small force is employed, only some twelve in all. From 
 the library the same gentleman took us to the Students' 
 Union. Its rooms were handsome. Of course few 
 students are now in the city. Our lunch was followed 
 by a visit to Trinity College. The Chapel, more modern, 
 perhaps more homelike than that of King's College, 
 contained busts and statues of several of Trinity's 
 noble sons: L,ord Bacon, Sir Isaac Newton, Dr. Whewell 
 and Macaulay stood out in strongest relief. The library 
 contains row after row of books neatly and tastefully 
 arranged, but like the University library it seems hardly 
 designed for use. Its shelves are open to students as 
 those of the University are not. Here is deposited the 
 telescope of Sir Isaac Newton, and here is the statue of
 
 72 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Byron by Thorwaldson which found a resting place in his 
 Alma Mater after in vain seeking a place in Westmin- 
 ster. It is a noble work of art. Would the artist had had 
 a nobler subject ! At Trinity we passed from court to 
 court, for the colleges are all built about courts, until we 
 found ourselves by the river. Here an enchanting view 
 met our eyes; the broad, low banks of the Cam, crossed 
 and recrossed by bridges of the most artistic designs; the 
 rows of trees shading broad walks, the trees fringing the 
 river and dipping their branches into its waters; the pictur- 
 esque little boats sculled by stalwart young oarsmen, all 
 made the finest picture which we have yet seen in merrie 
 England. Caught by the spirit of the place we chartered 
 a row boat and rowed up and down the river past the 
 colleges until we lighted upon some views not so delight- 
 ful, when we turned back. In an angle of the great 
 court at Trinity we found that walk under the chapel 
 windows where Macaulay wandered back and forth book 
 in hand, and where Trevellyan says his dim shade must 
 linger. Every one treated us with great civility, and in the 
 porter we found a woman who showed us the rooms, close 
 together, formerly occupied by Macaulay, Newton and 
 Thackeray. 
 
 St. John's College was next visited. W T e saw its Chapel 
 and a suite of rooms belonging to rather a gay student 
 given to entertainments of a non-scholastic sort. Next
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 73 
 
 we proudly bent our steps to Emanuel College, the foun- 
 tain of our early Massachusetts culture, the college of 
 Harvard and Shepard. The porter was just sufficiently 
 mellowed by the genial influence of the wine cup to be 
 in a most complaisant mood. To know we were from 
 Cambridge, New England, was to open the fountain of 
 his hospitality and knowledge. He favored us with dis- 
 sertations on the Reformation, with quotations from the 
 great poets, with dramatic recitations of Shakespere, 
 with historical reminiscence and college jokes. He took 
 us to the chapel, where a window memorial to Harvard 
 tells that his work is not unknown or unappreciated in 
 his old home. He showed us the rooms which he occu- 
 pied in college and also the kitchen where the stu- 
 dents of the present day draw their good cheer. 
 
 At Christ's College we peered through the bars in 
 vain for a sight of Milton's Mulberry tree. A passing horse 
 car took us to the station, and our day in Cambridge 
 was past. I think our own Harvard seems greater to us 
 than it did. She may have no King's Chapel, but 
 neither has Cambridge an Agassiz Museum, a Memorial 
 Hall or a Hemenway Gymnasium. 
 
 Thursday we paid a visit to the Albert Memorial, a 
 vast and splendid monument erected by Queen Victoria 
 and her people to the memory of the Prince Consort. 
 Its cost, ,120,000, gives an idea of its magnificence.
 
 74 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 The study of its allegorical groups consumed a good deal 
 of our time: America, represented by a bison and 
 Indian tamed by the hunter, and the goddess of liberty, all 
 satisfied our national pride. The National Portrait Gal- 
 lery consumed the rest of the day. We found it ex- 
 tremely interesting, containing the portraits of nearly 
 every Englishman and woman of distinction from the 
 days of the Tudors to the present time. Nearly all 
 were by eminent artists and were worth study for their 
 intrinsic merit as well as for their subjects. 
 
 Friday was our last day in London and it was with 
 almost homesick feelings that we prepared to leave our 
 comfortable home in Southampton street. Particularly 
 did we linger at the Holborn restaurant where our daily 
 portion of English roast beef has been consumed. We 
 have found living in Condon very reasonable and very 
 comfortable. The breakfasts are meagre enough and I 
 can't get used to living without fruit. The butter, too, 
 has been a trial. We found considerable packing to do, 
 for, at the last moment, we decided not to take a trunk to 
 the continent. The buying of tickets consumed con- 
 siderable time, for the stupid Englishman has not yet 
 learned how berths can be secured when tickets are sold 
 at different places. 
 
 After dinner we went to the banker's for letters, and 
 thence to the headquarters of the Salvation Army, where
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 75 
 
 we spent a half hour in looking over their literature. It 
 impressed me favorably. It seemed filled with sensible 
 ideas, well calculated to train the class of people among 
 whom it works into principles of truth and duty. The 
 peculiar sensational elements of the system occupied a 
 small part of its pages. An omnibus took us to Trafal- 
 gar Square, and thence we began our walk through the 
 Mall to Buckingham Palace, taking Marlborough House, 
 St. James Palace and Clarence House on our right. A 
 strange palace is St. James. Brick stables jumbled 
 together would be almost as beautiful and imposing. 
 Marlborough House we did not find attractive and we 
 took occasion once more, as we have many times before, 
 to bless our stars that we are not royalty. 
 
 After a light tea at the Holborn, we were ready for 
 our drive to the Great Eastern Station, where at half- 
 past eight we set out for Harwich. An uneventful ride 
 in company with jolly strangers of several nationalities 
 brought us to the place of embarkation where the Maude 
 Hamilton was waiting to receive us. A comfortable 
 little state-room, or private cabin, as they call it, was 
 reserved for us, and all seemed favorable for a night of 
 calm repose. But, alas, for human calculations! The 
 boat rolled and our stomachs rolled. The kind old 
 stewardess was as sympathetic as could be and full of 
 suggestions. Her prescription for us was champagne
 
 76 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 which I took with as much alacrity as though I had 
 never been president of a W. C. T. U. ! It really allayed 
 the distress, and the rest of the night was passed in uneasy 
 slumber. Charles rebelled against the champagne and 
 it did not seem to have a correspondingly beneficial 
 effect. He preferred to hug his old friend, the brandy 
 bottle. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 27 August. 
 
 A very busy and very interesting time has been ours. 
 Our eyes have been opened to strange sights and our 
 ears to stranger sounds. We have left Holland with very 
 good opinions regarding our Dutch brothers collectively 
 and individually. A wonderful people is our verdict. 
 They not only cultivate their land and cultivate it highly, 
 but they make the land they cultivate, and rather than 
 fight to win territory, they prefer to encroach upon the 
 domains of old Neptune, and by hard and honest toil to 
 gain their acres. For many of the strange sights we 
 had been prepared by reading and by pictures: the 
 peculiar dress of the working women, in their short petti- 
 coats, wooden shoes, caps and gold head-bands; the heavy 
 cart drawn by dogs; the tall, narrow, canting houses; the 
 life, eating, drinking and talking out of doors. Yet 
 neither pictures nor written descriptions are quite like 
 seeing with one's eyes. The four Dutch towns we were 
 in seemed each to possess some novelty of its own. Rot-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 77 
 
 terdam was peculiar for the number and proportions of 
 its dog teams; Amsterdam for the remarkable tipsy char- 
 acter of its houses, and its system of canals, rivaling 
 those of Venice. At Ley den we saw women, on 
 steps leading to the canals, doing their family washing; 
 at Delft women and dogs were drawing heavy canal 
 boats. How those Dutchmen smoke! It seems to me I 
 did not see a male Hollander without a pipe or cigar. 
 Youngsters of five puff their cigars in company with their 
 elders, and they do not even take out the pipe when they 
 eat. Smoking in restaurants and smoking while eating 
 was a new sight to me. Eating out of doors always had a 
 poetic sound to me, and I had fancied the greensward 
 beneath the feet and the waving branches of the trees 
 above the head. Instead of these delights they set their 
 tables out on the sidewalk, and, blocking the way to 
 pedestrians, quaff their schnapps and puff their pipes. 
 All the towns are kept neat by constant scrubbing, but 
 I could not but think that the centuries of such treatment 
 had rubbed a good deal of dirt in as well as off. Neat 
 and clean the streets certainly are, but an almost entire 
 absence of trees and greensward gives them a bare appear- 
 ance. The general air of thrift and contentment among 
 the people was striking. Every one whom we saw seemed 
 to be of the common people as we should say, but every 
 one seemed to have some place in life and to be fitted into
 
 78 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 it. We saw neither beggars nor quasi-beggars, nor did 
 any faces bear those dejected, God-forsaken looks which 
 stamp so many countenances seen on the streets of Lon- 
 don. Nor on the other hand did we see those restless, keen, 
 driving, sharp cut lineaments so common to the American 
 faces. The children were plain, but clean, rosy and 
 happy. The women were hard working, a little dogged 
 looking perhaps, but strong, as I never saw women 
 before. It filled me with envy to see them take their 
 heavy baskets and walk off with such a strong, buoyant 
 step. It was not perhaps the gait which Mr. Turvey- 
 drop would strive to impart, but it had the grace of 
 unconscious strength. 
 
 At Rotterdam we did not make a long tarry. Neither 
 heads nor stomachs were in the best condition to see or 
 enjoy. We took a carriage for an hour, and accompanied 
 by a kind of Yankee Dutch boy, who pointed out the 
 objects of interest in choice Dutch English, rode about 
 the city. He showed us "Mr. Erasmus" statue and the 
 house in which he was born; he pointed out to us the 
 house for "young children who have lost their elders," 
 and some other points of interest. At twelve we left for 
 Amsterdam where a ride of an hour brought us, and 
 where the Bible Hotel opened to receive us. Our first 
 pilgrimage was made to the Rijks Museum, a new pic- 
 ture gallery of vast proportions and noble design. I
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 79 
 
 doubt if any city of the size of Amsterdam can boast a 
 gallery so fine in all respects. The collection of paintings 
 is vast and particularly rich in the works of Dutch artists, 
 chief of whom of course is Rembrandt. Unfortunately 
 the historical character of this museum has introduced a 
 vast number of inferior works. 
 
 Sunday morning we started to find the Presbyterian 
 church. By the help of Baedeker and the three languages 
 more or less at our command we expected an easy victory. 
 But we wandered about, and finally found our way in 
 through a back alley where we heard the final words of 
 the discourse. Before going home from church we went 
 to a little gallery which holds the famous picture 
 of Ary Scheffer's, known as Christus Consolator. The 
 picture disappointed us. lake Hamlet, with Hamlet left 
 out, it was Consolator without the Christ. His face 
 expressed but little. 
 
 The afternoon was spent in letter writing and in the 
 evening we went out to see the city as it appeared on a 
 Sunday evening. Everyone was out, happy, enjoying 
 himself, yet nothing boisterous or rude. Everything was 
 decorous. It is evident the religious life of the people, 
 as we count religious life, is weak, and Sunday is very 
 little observed. The few Sunday shops were doubtless 
 those of Jews, of whom Amsterdam has a large number.
 
 8o CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 The oldest city Leyden of Holland seemed like an 
 Amsterdam on a small scale. Its University of seven 
 hundred pupils has little to show for itself, since the stu- 
 dents have rooms in the town and receive much of their 
 instruction at the houses of the professors. What there 
 was to see we saw, however. In the church of the 
 town rests the body of the great John Robinson, the good 
 John Robinson. In the house close by he lived and 
 worked for many years. It seemed strange, at this little 
 Dutch town, to stand at the grave of one, who, without 
 ever being in New England, influenced so potently New 
 England life and character. We fancied that the Pil- 
 grims did not leave Holland entirely free from the influ- 
 ence of their Dutch neighbors. A certain ugliness in 
 the churches seemed strangely familiar. 
 
 We reached the Hague in the first of the afternoon 
 and soon made our way to the picture gallery. Here we 
 found the most wonderful of Rembrandt's pictures which 
 we have yet seen, An Anatomical Lecture. The triumph 
 of life over death is most remarkable. There, too, is Paul 
 Potter's famous Bull, a wonderful animal, but hardly so 
 wonderful to us as to his masters. This gallery was 
 choice, nearly every picture having merit of its own. 
 
 The Binnenhof, a low, irregular brick structure, 
 ancient and hoary, which served for Parliament House 
 and government offices, next claimed our attention. The
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 81 
 
 rooms of state were somewhat fine, and that fitted up 
 with a certain magnificence by William III. was of special 
 interest, because in it the articles of the treaty of Ryswick 
 were agreed upon. In trying to find the chambers of 
 the States General we invaded a doughty Dutchman in 
 his lair and were ignominiously shown the way out. 
 Some way royalty appears very cheap in Holland in com- 
 parison with England. No red - coated soldiers with 
 bushy hats and bristling bayonets guard these precincts, 
 and no notices even are posted that ' ' packages are not 
 admitted." The palace, which we saw from the outside, 
 is a plain cream-colored building without great preten- 
 sions. These Dutch are thrifty fellows and do not mean 
 to squander much on Kings. 
 
 A pleasant little variety was added to our day b)' an eve- 
 ning trip to Scheveningen, a fashionable watering-place. 
 With the setting sun and rising moon and the music and 
 crowds of gaily dressed people, the scene was very pictur- 
 esque and attractive. It reminded me of a picture in the 
 Corcoran Art Gallery, at Washington, which I think 
 must delineate this place. The wicker booth chairs were 
 a new and pretty feature of seaside life. 
 
 Tuesday morning we visited Delft, not the Delfs- 
 haven of the Pilgrims. Like Amsterdam and Leyden it 
 seemed a busy, work-a-day town. The Hague has not 
 so much this appearance. The monument to the Prince
 
 82 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 of Orange, over his grave in the Nieuwe Kerk, and the 
 Prinsenhof, where he was killed, were the chief points of 
 interest. Brave, true, patriotic man, it was a joy to stand 
 upon his grave and pay homage to his memory. Few 
 grander things are in history than his order to pierce the 
 dykes. The figures of justice, prudence, religion, lib- 
 erty, upon his monument seemed wonderfully fitted to 
 express his character. It was on the canals between The 
 Hague and Delft that we saw the women drawing canal 
 boats. The house where Spinoza lived and a statue re- 
 cently erected to him claimed our attention on our walk 
 home after leaving the car. 
 
 On our arrival at Antwerp we found that, 
 owing to the International Exposition, the city 
 was much crowded, and at one time we feared 
 lest we should not be able to find a bed. A modest little 
 house, Hotel Holland, clean and neat, however, finally 
 opened its doors to us. Mine host proved a genial fellow, 
 and on the whole we did not regret the necessity which 
 brought us to his doors. The day was too far spent for 
 much sight seeing, but in the evening we rode to the Ex- 
 position, which resembled all other expositions. The 
 exhibit of lace so fascinated me, however, that I could 
 have lingered hours by it. 
 
 The early morning found us on our way to the Museum 
 of Pictures. The walk along the beautiful docks, built
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 83 
 
 and maintained at great expense, was interesting. We 
 see signs of being in another country, although the 
 Dutch and Flemish element seems to predominate. Yet 
 French is the language spoken, and in that tongue we 
 made our way about. I found my vernacular French a 
 good deal rusted after its ten years of disuse, but it is 
 coming rapidly back. Railroad nomenclature I never 
 learned, and the necessary inquiries at the stations are 
 proving puzzling. 
 
 At the Antwerp Museum we had an opportunity to 
 study Rubens at his best. The life, the action, of Ru- 
 bens' masterpieces are wonderful. In these remarkable 
 qualities we have seen no picture to compare with the 
 Crucifixion in the Antwerp Gallery. The figures are 
 few, and each expresses intense activity, all bending to a 
 unity of purpose. Here was not the Mater Dolorosa, 
 but the Mater Dolens, not the sorrowful but the sorrow- 
 ing mother. It was the first of Rubens' masterpieces 
 which we saw, and may have so filled us that we have no 
 room left properly to estimate the others. But certain it 
 is, that the Descent from the Cross, which we studied 
 long at the Cathedral, will not linger in our minds as 
 will the Crucifixion. Van Dyke's treatment of the Cru- 
 cifixion and Entombment seemed a bit cold beside Ru- 
 bens'. I often wonder why so many great artists choose 
 to delineate the horrible, particularly as connected with
 
 84 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 religion. I was fairly sickened .by the pictures of hor- 
 rors which the Museum presented, and felt that our 
 Blessed L,ord had been blasphemed in the execrable 
 paintings in which profane hands had delineated his suf- 
 ferings. We are now in a Catholic country, and do not 
 fail to see it. 
 
 From the Museum we turned toward the Exposition, 
 to see the exhibition of Beaux Arts. It is something of an 
 education simply to wander through these long -galleries 
 and to look at the wonderful productions of man's skill. 
 It was interesting also to compare the styles of art of the 
 different countries. In none was striking originality 
 manifest. The French style of half tints predominated 
 in the greater part of the paintings. Modern art seems 
 to me as perfect in its execution, as exact a representa- 
 tive of nature in form and coloring as the ancient, but it 
 satisfies itself with too trivial subjects, and fails to move 
 because failing to present any great thought or feeling. 
 A picture, like a sermon or poem, must have a subject 
 which, independent of its execution, will move and in- 
 spire. The Russian exhibit interested us, and seemed to 
 possess power and originality. One picture in the Belgian 
 exhibit (The Last Day of Pompeii) and one in the Aus- 
 trian (The Condemnation of Mars) live with us. 
 
 The church at Antwerp (Notre Dame) presented no 
 striking features in architecture, and was of interest
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING, 85 
 
 chiefly because of Rubens' masterpieces which I have 
 before alluded to. It was our first Catholic church, and 
 was filled with images, altars, pictures and trappings to 
 which we are unaccustomed. They seemed so cheap and 
 tawdry, often so revolting. I trust they serve to draw 
 some souls nearer our Blessed Lord. 
 
 From Antwerp, which we left at five fifty-six, to 
 Brussels, we traveled in a most uncomfortable car, half 
 American, half English, losing the comforts of each. 
 Smoking was indulged, and I had to breathe it in. Oh, if 
 it were only true that smoking breeds cancers ! 
 
 BRUSSEI^S, 27 August. 
 
 In Belgium's capital! And it seems as if even now 
 were gathered here a kingdom's beauty and chivalry. 
 Such a different city from the work-a-day Dutch towns! 
 Youth and pleasure here seem to meet, and on every side 
 are pleasure's ministers. Art and nature, the beautiful 
 in form, in architecture, all are here to delight the eyes. 
 The drives are full, the parks are full, and the workers 
 only seem to work to minister to the seeker of beauty 
 and pleasure. The windows are full of laces, of gems, of 
 painting, to tempt the beholder. The squares and parks 
 are adorned with flowers and statues to Belgian heroes. 
 The Palais de Justice is one of the most remarkable 
 specimens of modern architecture. Like our own beau-
 
 86 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 tiful Capitol, it rises upon a slight eminence at the end 
 of one of the principal avenues of the city. It is so mag- 
 nificent as almost to satiate. Down in the valley is the 
 Hotel de Ville, a fine Gothic building of the fourteenth 
 century, and a grand specimen of the secular art which 
 flourished in the Netherlands, and of which England has 
 hardly a trace. The Square of the Petit Sablon is a de- 
 lightful little spot. A little garden in which stands a 
 statue of Counts Egmont and Hoorn, on their way to 
 execution, is surrounded by a paling on the pilasters of 
 which are small brazen statues representing the trades of 
 Belgium. The boulevards are broad, forming a complete 
 circuit of the city. Everything is French. 
 
 In going to Waterloo we took the steam train to 
 Braine 1'Alleud, and thence an omnibus to the center of 
 the field. The two hours on the field allowed us to visit 
 but few of the spots of interest, but with our guide and 
 books the short time was enough to gain an excellent idea 
 of the proceedings of that awful day. Pray God such 
 scenes may never be repeated on the green earth that He 
 has made! Nothing seems to me so monstrous as war, 
 and it is a constant marvel that it has survived eighteen 
 Christian centuries. We saw some sights on our ride to 
 the battle field strange to our American eyes. L,ittle chil- 
 dren followed our bus for a mile begging for pennies. The 
 women were hoeing and raking in the fields, and one we
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 87 
 
 saw shoveling manure. After dinner we went out walk- 
 ing, and found much to enjoy in the beautiful city. 
 
 Friday morning we went out lace hunting. It was 
 a wonder we did not spend all our money on the fascinat- 
 ing stuff. We bought all our consciences would allow, 
 and yearned for less Puritan consciences. It was hard 
 for me even to turn my steps to the Museum of Paintings, 
 and I found that among its treasures my busy mind re- 
 verted to the fabrics of loveliness that my eyes had seen. 
 This gallery is rich in specimens of every type of Flem- 
 ish art. Two pictures by Thomas, Judas and Barabbas, 
 struck us as original in conception and powerful in exe- 
 cution. Gallait's Abdication of Charles V. was a fine 
 picture, yet open to some criticism. Early art does not 
 interest me, still Van Eyck's Adam and Eve were inter- 
 esting. The Hotel de Ville received a flying visit. The 
 tapestries were the best we have yet seen. One of the 
 large salles, we were told, was the place of the ball given 
 by the Duchess of Richmond on the eve of Waterloo. 
 This I think is a mistake. We took a carriage to the Place 
 of Martyrs, thence round the Cathedral to the Palace of 
 Nations or the Capitol, as we should say. The legislative 
 hall of the upper chamber is a gem. Exquisite carvings 
 and the portraits of all the Belgian monarchs from Charle 
 magne to L/eopold, by Gallait, noble works of art, 
 adorn it. The various committee rooms, foreign relations,
 
 88 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 etc. , were arranged and decorated with great taste and ele- 
 gance. A dinner, an evening walk finished the day, and 
 it was with real regret that we made our preparations for 
 leaving Brussels and the Netherlands. Particularly did 
 we regret to part with the friendly porter of the Hotel 
 de France, whose kindly smile sped us on our way and 
 welcomed us back from our wanderings. The European 
 porter is an institution, a universal genius, who knows 
 everything and can talk all languages, and is always 
 ready for a fee. It hurt my feelings to give so learned 
 and urbane an individual a paltry franc. We are glad 
 to go to hotels where English is spoken. I find it quite a 
 little strain to carry on negotiations in French, with the 
 possibilities of not always understanding and being un- 
 derstood. But my French has been a good deal brushed 
 up for two days' wear, and by the time I get to Paris I 
 hope to become quite fluent. Going from French to 
 German is a little confusing. 
 
 Saturday morning, at nine-forty, we left for Cologne, 
 which, with a stop of two hours at Aix la Chapelle, 
 proved a day's journey. The journey we rather en- 
 joyed. It was restful, and gave us some opportunities 
 for reading and seeing the country and people. The 
 only reason for stopping at Aix was to visit the church 
 built by Charlemagne, where he was buried, and where 
 for eight hundred years after him the German Emperors
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 89 
 
 were crowned. Here for the first time we met Catholic 
 superstition. We paid three marks for viewing relics, 
 some of them intrinsically interesting for their richness, 
 but more sad and revolting. I could bear a link of St. 
 Peter's chain, or a tooth of St. Thomas, but when a man 
 pretends to show me a bit of the shroud of our L,ord, 
 and the rope which tied His blessed body to the cross, 
 I shrink and tremble with the horror of the desecration. 
 The marble chair of the Emperors, I presume, is 
 veritable. It may also be that we saw the leg bone of 
 Charlemagne, since his body was disinterred within his- 
 toric times. But one could but feel suspicious. The archi- 
 tecture of the building was as interesting as the relics. 
 
 In Aix la Chapelle, or Aachen, we were in Ger- 
 many. The burly custom officer who examined our bag- 
 gage, or, rather, did not examine it, was German. The 
 ticket examiner, who nearly frightened me out of my 
 wits, was also German. The men who smoked in the 
 waiting room were German, all were German. / don't 
 like them. 
 
 The smells of Cologne did not strike us all at once. 
 The first we detected were in our room, which we tried 
 to analyze in vain, but finally we referred them to the soap 
 with which the bedding was washed. And such a bed ! 
 Feather bed beneath, feather bed above, the whole 
 mountain high. It did not look attractive. Sunday
 
 90 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 morning we discovered other smells. Surface draining 
 and sausage were the principal ones. 
 
 Sundays spent in traveling are not what Sundays ought 
 to be, and a Sunday in Germany is quite different from a 
 Sunday in England. Shops are open, streets are full, 
 and all is gayety, even to card-playing. It was very 
 pleasant to find our way into a bit of an English chapel, 
 very pleasant to join in the "God Lord deliver us" of the 
 Ivitany. From so many things have we need to be 
 delivered! The clergyman read the service slowly with 
 a strong German accent, and never has it seemed more 
 impressive. From this service we went to the Cathedral. 
 It reached our expectation. Grand, vast, almost misty 
 in its distances, it stretches up and away, a very Gloria in 
 Excelsis in stone. In it we were also treated to more 
 relics, the last I think I shall give a sou for seeing. 
 The rest of the day I passed in my room. We find our- 
 selves comfortable and have, so far, liked the German 
 table better than the English. The waiter here is most 
 agreeable and astonished us beyond measure by greeting 
 us with "holloa" upon going to breakfast. That is 
 English as she is spoke in Germany. 
 
 GENEVA, 6 September. 
 
 A week of rapid travel finds us for our Sabbath in 
 this city of Calvin. In it we have seen few of the
 
 CARRIE F. SUTLER THWING. 91 
 
 wonders of man's making, but our eyes have been filled 
 with the glories of God's universe. Monday was our 
 day on the Rhine. We went on board the little steamer 
 at seven and left it late in the afternoon at St. Goar 
 for the train, which brought us to Mayence. As far as 
 Bonn the sail was uninteresting; from Bonn to Coblentz 
 it compared very well with Dead River. But between 
 Coblentz and St. Goar its crags and peaks, its castles 
 and vine-clad hills, justified its renown. I began to feel 
 my ignorance of history. To the German, its banks and 
 castles are as full of poetry, romance and chivalry as the 
 banks of the Dee or the crags of Scotland. 
 
 The city of Worms, made famous by the brave posi- 
 tion of lyUther, is not unmindful of the lustre shed upon 
 itself by the great reformer. A bronze statue, or rather 
 monument, of elegant design and strong and vigorous 
 execution is raised to his memory in one of the principal 
 squares of the town. The house no longer stands where 
 met the famous Diet, but to the spot, now occupied by 
 a fine private residence, we made a pilgrimage. Charles 
 walked about the town, which had only such interest as a 
 foreign town always possesses in the eyes of a stranger. 
 While I waited for him in a picture store I listened to a 
 vigorous dispute between three or four young men upon 
 some political matter. It was the day before the anniver- 
 sary of Sedan and the military spirit was aroused. All
 
 92 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 these young fellows spoke English well. It is really 
 mortifying to find how well these Germans speak English. 
 Our country is most unfavorably situated for acquiring a 
 foreign tongue. 
 
 We continued our journey to Strassburg, where we 
 had all too short a time to inspect the glories of the 
 Cathedral and the interests of the city. I should have 
 been glad to drive about the fortifications of the 
 town, which are in the most perfect style of modern 
 warfare. It is said that every vestige of that cruel siege 
 has disappeared, but the scenes were very fresh to me in 
 both memory and imagination. I had just been reading 
 the Memoir and Letters of the Princess Alice and I could 
 but reflect that the agony she endured and which her 
 letters describe, was no more than that of every wife and 
 mother whose dear ones were enlisted on either losing or 
 winning side. How I hate war ! More and more are its 
 pomp and circumstance distasteful. Germany, I can see, 
 is hardly more than a vast arsenal. Troops are recruited 
 and drilled much as they were with us during the years 
 '6i-'65. We saw, at Cologne, a thousand men marching 
 to drill. At Mayence are stationed eight thousand men, at 
 Metz fourteen thousand. Almost equal to our whole army! 
 The Cathedral at Strassburg was a surprise. The wonders 
 of its clock have been allowed to eclipse the glories of its 
 architecture. It is singularly beautiful. Its stone, a
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 93 
 
 reddish brown, was a pleasing relief to the stone-grey 
 in which all the Cathedrals we have before seen, have 
 been built. Its decoration without is peculiarly rich and 
 delicate. A statue of Gutenberg, and the house where 
 the first printing was done, completed the wonders which 
 our limited time allowed us to see. It was eleven o'clock 
 when we reached Basle and we were too tired and sleepy 
 to be very critical of the accommodations offered by 
 The Crown. Our beds were clean, and that is the first 
 thing. The river Rhine, directly in front of the house, 
 went rushing, roaring by, as if just let loose from its 
 mountain home. Before going to the station we rode 
 for a half an hour about the town. It is essentially a 
 German city. 
 
 We arrived in Berne a little after one o'clock and at 
 once took a carriage for a quick inspection of the city. 
 We drove to the banker's for letters, but as he was out we 
 took our ride first. The city is beautifully situated 
 upon the banks of the lake and built upon an abrupt 
 height. The distant Alps are in full view, and in winding 
 about among the tortuous narrow streets one constantly 
 finds glorious views bursting upon himself. We had our 
 first view of the Alps from the cars. L,ike clear blocks of 
 solid, polished quartz they towered into heaven far above 
 the clouds. The Cathedral, Protestant Calvinistic, was 
 inferior in beauty and interest to most buildings bearing
 
 94 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 the name. The city itself we found picturesque, re- 
 minding us in some ways of Edinburgh. The buildings 
 of some of the old streets were not unlike the rows of 
 Chester. The second story, however, was built out over 
 the sidewalk and was not a second story of street. Our 
 driver, who was anxious to make the time as long as 
 possible, insisted upon taking us across the river to the 
 bear gardens. These pits were very large and of stone, 
 quite eclipsing those of the London Zoo. Only two of 
 the six bruins consented to appear. Our last visitation at 
 Berne was made to the Bundes Rath House (the Capitol). 
 It was a building simple in adornment, but well fitted for 
 its purpose. From the roof we had a magnificent view of 
 the city and distant Alps. 
 
 The half past six train brought us to Interlaken 
 about ten. The sail across Lake Thun in the solemn 
 stillness of the night, under the shadows of the towering 
 mountain, was soothing to soul and body. It is strange 
 to me that foul deeds stalk abroad at night. Then, to me, 
 is conscience most keenly awake, passion most still, and 
 God most near. This sail and the sail down the Rhine 
 were very rich in reminiscences of by-gone times. In my 
 mind the German ballads learned so long ago, some 
 almost forgotten, came to life again. The old college 
 days and the old college friends seemed nearer than for 
 years. Lines of German poetry, scenes of Wilhelm Tell,
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 95 
 
 came trooping up and made the rocks and hills peopled 
 and alive. 
 
 Interlaken seems all hotels and fancy shops. The 
 Jungfrau received us. The morning light revealed 
 to us the beauty of our situation. Directly in front, 
 bathed with the morning radiance, towered the massive 
 whiteness of the hoary Jungfrau. How it glistened and 
 gleamed in the light, an opal in emerald setting! We 
 were impatient of breakfast and eager to be away. The 
 air was intoxicating, like the air of our native mountains, 
 and, but for the snowy, distant summits, we could well 
 imagine ourselves in the mountains of Maine. In the 
 Jungfrau we thought we detected a resemblance in form 
 to Old Blue. We had not walked long before we found 
 the glories of nature eclipsed by the glories of the shops. 
 Swiss carvings proved too great an attraction, and before 
 we left the shop we had well-nigh emptied our purses. 
 The bears, too, were fascinating; carved bears in every 
 variety of size and occupation. 
 
 We engaged an amiable charioteer and a somewhat 
 dilapitated chariot to take us to L,auterbrunnen, and the 
 ride was one never to be forgotten. As we wound 
 about among the mountains, the more distant silver- 
 covered summits seemed to play hide and seek with the 
 green heights of the nearer mountains. The castellated 
 crags springing like titan pillars a thousand feet toward
 
 96 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 the sky; the rushing gray-green waters of the glacial river; 
 the green pastures and picturesque chalets; the clear sky 
 and the fresh air, all seemed like the wonders of the 
 promised land. The little village at Lauterbrunnen, a 
 mere straggling row of houses, offered many tempting 
 objects to our views. Outside the women sat making 
 lace, and the men carving stone figures. It was 
 strange to find, in one house, that German only was 
 spoken, while at the next, French was alone understood. 
 
 A pretty walk of half an hour led us to the 
 Staubbach which leaps hundreds of feet off the 
 rocky mountain side to the meadow below. It was 
 late in the afternoon when we returned to Interlaken, 
 and writing letters and dinner brought us to the setting 
 sun. Walks and inspection of the shop-windows con- 
 sumed the evening. 
 
 The journey to Geneva occupied all of Friday. We 
 retraced our way to Berne and by rail to Lausanne. At 
 that point our plan had been to take the boat across the 
 lake, but the rain of the day prevented and we finished 
 our journey by rail. The views were fine, and the 
 bursting of the clouds and the succession of showers, 
 followed by a rainbow, diversified the landscape, which 
 in itself was wonderfully beautiful. Yet when the 
 distant Alps are out of view, it would not be hard to 
 fancy myself at home, so similar are the veiws. There
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 97 
 
 is, however, a peculiar abruptness to these mountains. 
 They do not seem to have been finished up and polished 
 off as carefully as ours. The lights and shadows, as 
 they play upon the hillsides and valleys, are wonderful. 
 
 At first Geneva did not strike me pleasantly, but its 
 charms gradually grew upon me. All Saturday morning 
 we climbed up and down its steep and narrow streets, 
 and wound in and out their tortuous ways. To many it 
 seemed difficult to find either entrance or exit. Every 
 few minutes one is brought up against some high wall, 
 and on searching for an egress finds it a dark and winding 
 stairway, or through some archway enters into a broad 
 place. The Cathedral, the Museum, the University were 
 the points of public interest which we saw. 
 
 In the afternoon we had an experience. We took 
 the omnibus for Fernex, a small suburb over the 
 boundary of France, and which was founded by 
 Voltaire. The omnibus was filled with market women 
 returning home, and very merry was the clatter of the 
 tongues. It gave us a touch of real life. Yet that is not 
 wanting. So much of the life here is out of doors. The 
 streets are filled with women selling their produce, and 
 filling their water jars at the public fountains which 
 abound. At Berne we saw women doing their washing 
 at the basins in the streets, and here we see what seem to
 
 98 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 be public lavatories, where women bring their clothes 
 and wash in the running water. 
 
 The chateau, built by Voltaire, still stands, and is a 
 charming country place. From the terrace a fine view is 
 gained. Two of the rooms remain as he left them, his 
 parlor and sleeping room. In the parlor is a tomb, 
 where the heart of the great scoffer is buried. We left 
 with a kindlier feeling for this prince of sceptics, 
 after seeing the church he built for the people of Fernex. 
 
 A Sunday at Geneva and in the house of Calvin is 
 hardly kept with Puritanical strictness. On our way to 
 church we met people evidently off for picnics, and the 
 marching and band-playing were not like Sunday. Yet 
 most shops are closed and the streets decorous. We 
 found a little American Episcopal chapel, where we 
 worshiped with some eighty others. It was a blessed 
 privilege to receive the sacrament in this foreign land. 
 The same God, the same Savior, the same faith. 
 
 LUCERNE, 12 September. 
 
 A seven o'clock start upon Monday morning, 5th 
 September, brought us to Chamounix at a little before four. 
 The morning was glorious and we took our seats in the 
 diligence with full expectation of a fine day. But the 
 fiend was there, six fiends were there, and by a strange 
 co-incidence, or rather fatality, they all sat in front of 
 me. It was awful. One fiend, with a one-eyed glass,
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 99 
 
 smoked two pipes and five cigars, besides drinking two 
 bottles of wine at dinner. A party of Americans occupied 
 the seats with us. They had a courier; and of all insuffer- 
 able, impertinent appendages, a courier seems the worst. 
 Think of his puffing a cigar into the ladies' faces ! The views, 
 however, were fine. The immense, towering crags and over- 
 hanging rocks, as well as the distant mountains, formed 
 a wilder and bolder scene than any we had seen; but 
 while at dinner at Sallanches a hard rain set in, which 
 neither ceased nor lessened until we were in Chamounix. 
 Henceforth we were in a box filled with that vile smoke. 
 I became thoroughly sickened and poisoned. 
 
 In the hard, cold rain there seemed little to do but to 
 be comfortable. A fire in the reading room of the 
 Angleterre aided us in this endeavor. From the window 
 we could occasionally catch in the rift of the clouds a 
 view of the monarch mountain, at whose base we were. 
 
 The morning of Tuesday seemed little propitious for 
 Alpine climbing. Clouds gathered and let fall a few 
 drops of rain and then parted to show us the sun. It was 
 the opinion of wiseacres that by eleven all would be 
 clear. A little before ten we thought it wise to venture 
 up Montanvert to the "Mer de Glace." We accord- 
 ingly ordered a guide and a mule for myself, Charles 
 walking. My position on the back of the mule seemed 
 somewhat precarious, and it was only the knowledge that
 
 ioo CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 what had been done could be done, which kept me on 
 while the animal toiled over perpendicular precipices. 
 I had an idea that mules were given to kicking and I was 
 possessed of a subdued terror lest Rossa employ his heels 
 in a surreptitious manner, and the problem of where I 
 should land occupied my leisure moments. The guide 
 was very friendly, and kept up a constant stream of con- 
 versation, all in French, to which I replied as best I 
 could during the titillations of Rossa. Half way up we 
 stopped at what they call a chalet. I never knew before 
 just what a chalet is. Our word shanty is derived from 
 it, I judge! Here we had the pleasure of gazing upon a 
 chamois which we had supposed to be a goat, until we were 
 requested to leave 20 centimes for having looked at him. 
 On we pushed, the guide giving us all kinds of induce- 
 ments to cross the Mer de Glace, an expedition against 
 which I was firmly set. But gradually I yielded. The 
 longer I sat on Rossa' s back the more delightful seemed 
 the prospect of climbing fields of ice upon my feet. An 
 inspection of the Mer from the hotel at Montanvert 
 deepened the desire, and after a little rest and luncheon 
 we started, I and the guide ahead, Charles following. 
 The ice fields disappointed me. I had pictured a glacier 
 as a huge extent of rock candy. It resembles mere dirty 
 snow. Yet in some of the crevasses was seen that pe- 
 culiar blue tint never seen in anything else, unless it
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 101 
 
 might be in a huge chrysoprase. Once across, the worst 
 was begun. Over rocks and streams and down precipices 
 in steps cut in solid rock, made slippery by rain, we went. 
 We fixed our eyes on a distant white rock, and measured 
 with our eyes every inch which our steps lessened. At 
 last the chateau and a shelter from the rain, which had 
 been for some time falling! Fifteen minutes more of 
 easier climbing, and we see Rossa's ears erect, immov- 
 able. The going down was worse than the coming up. 
 Could I keep on ? The distance over his head was short, 
 but Rossa was sure - footed, and soon we were in the 
 highway. The rain poured, but it hurt us not. Before 
 six we were in our rooms, our clothes off and dressed 
 again for supper. 
 
 At ten o'clock of Wednesday we started in a private 
 carriage for Martigny. The said private carriage seemed 
 to have been built with the special idea of racking every 
 bone and muscle made susceptible by Rossa. The first 
 part of the way over a new military road was smooth, but 
 there followed two miles, in process of making, which were 
 intolerable. The road wound in loops back and forth, up 
 the mountain side, past the glacier Argentiere, more beau- 
 tiful than the Mer de Glace, over rushing, roaring tor- 
 rents, and along the edges of precipices to the Bete Noire 
 House, in the Bete Noire pass. Here we arrived at one 
 o'clock for dinner, and here the horses, which had hardly
 
 102 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 left a walk and had come barely three miles an hour, found 
 it necessary "to repose," as the coachman said. All 
 day long the sun had played hide and seek, and now the 
 rain began in earnest and hardly abated until we reached, 
 somewhat sore and stiff, the Hotel du Mont Blanc, at Mar- 
 tigny. All through the country by which we came were 
 scattered those miserable little houses, usually in groups, 
 which seemed the abodes of want, dirt and ignorance. 
 Never have I seen civilized people who impressed me 
 as so low in the scale of being as these Swiss peasants. 
 Pitiably poor was everything about them. The women 
 in the woods breaking off dry twigs and branches, and 
 carrying them home in loads upon their backs ; the low, 
 miserable huts, which on one side served as house and on 
 the other as stable, or, worse yet, stable below and house 
 above, seemed wretched beyond description. Yet no 
 village was without its chapel, no turn in the road with- 
 out its cross. 
 
 The ride in the steamer from Bouveret to 
 Ouchy, over the east end of Lake Leman, was grand 
 yet calming. The sun was setting and lighted every 
 part of the landscape with that radiance only seen at 
 sunset. The Dent du Midi stood up boldly, snow-capped 
 and sun- tipped. The bright little watering places, Vevay 
 among them, and the Castle of Chillon, all were full of 
 beauty and poetry, the poetry of life and the poetry of 
 imagination.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 103 
 
 Ouchy was delightful. At breakfast we watched 
 the white-capped waves of blue as they dashed against 
 the wharves. Apparently they came in with great fury, 
 for the spray was thrown at times twenty feet in air. 
 
 Friday, September nth, we spent in the cars. From 
 Ouchy to Lausanne is a ride of less than a mile in a bus. 
 The day proved rainy, a fact that showed the wisdom of 
 our decision in regard to the Furka pass. We reached 
 Lucerne at four twenty-five, and found a home at St. 
 Gotthard's near the station. After tea a walk in the 
 mist showed us but little of the beauties of the town, 
 and the most of the evening we spent in writing. The 
 town, however, is most beautiful for situation. Upon a 
 bend in the lake, it sweeps about it in a crescent form, and 
 embraces in its extent the beauties of the distant mount- 
 ains, rising range after range until the snow-capped sum- 
 mits blend in the sky. On one side the Rigi, on the 
 other the Pilatus stand as sentinels. The Pilatus, in its 
 rugged grandeur, surpasses any mountain I have seen. 
 
 Saturday morning we decided to attempt the Rigi, 
 although the day was unpropitious. No rain actually 
 fell, but snow had fallen upon the top of the mountain, 
 and that reduced to slush made going about quite im- 
 possible. But the ride upon the lake and also on the 
 railway disclosed beautiful views. To me, however, the 
 Lion of Lucerne was the attraction of the town. Three
 
 io 4 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 pilgrimages I made to his solitary resting place, and was 
 each time awed by his pathetic grandeur. No such fitting 
 monument, I am sure, has ever been raised to human he- 
 roism. There the wounded lion rests in a niche in the 
 rock of the eternal mountains, the calm water at his feet, 
 the dark woods about him, one paw limp and lifeless, 
 but the other, with the tenacity of a death struggle, 
 grasps the lilies of France. I shall always remember 
 the picture. 
 
 A walk about the town revealed a lack of the gayety 
 and life of the quays and hotels, a dense German popu- 
 lation. 
 
 On Sunday we found our way to the English church, 
 a somewhat pretentious yet fitting house of worship. 
 As usual the sermon was of a low order, but the service 
 was, as always, enjoyable. Few things so impress upon 
 me the oneness of all Christian people as the worship in 
 the English church of a Continental town. It was an 
 inspiration to sing "Onward Christian Soldier," by the 
 Lake of Lucerne, blending our voices with hundreds of 
 men and women, all of different lands and nations. 
 
 An early start was necessary on Monday morning in 
 order that we might sleep in Heidelberg. The journey, 
 made a part of the way in a fast train, was delightful. 
 From Basle, where we changed cars, we had the com- 
 pany of an English gentleman, a Colonel in the army,
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 105 
 
 and his wife. He proved a sociable and interesting com- 
 panion. The great interest of the day proved to be the 
 ride through the Black Forest, where the cars make a de- 
 scent of nineteen hundred feet in twenty-five miles. We 
 wound around and down, sometimes seeing the track 
 over which we were to pass hundreds of feet below us ; 
 sometimes seeing that over which we had come quite as 
 far above. No less than thirty-eight tunnels of different 
 lengths were passed through. At Carlsruhe an American 
 gentleman and lady, from California, entered our carriage. 
 They were bright and pleasant, and we found them 
 again at our hotel at Heidelberg. The man presented the 
 phenomenon of a man without a language. Born in 
 Cuba, he lived there until some eight years old, and 
 then was at school in France some five years. He then 
 went to Heidelberg, where he remained until about 
 twenty, and then went to the United States, where his 
 last ten years have been passed. He spoke English with 
 a marked German accent. 
 
 The Hotel de 1' Europe opened hospitable doors to 
 us at Heidelberg. It was already past eight when we 
 arrived, and bed was the only attraction. But early in 
 the morning we began our explorations of the town. 
 For the casual visitor it presents little besides the Uni- 
 versity and the Schloss. It is, of course, vacation 
 in the university, and the principal building in the cen-
 
 io6 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 ter of the town is undergoing repairs. I did not go in, 
 but Charles moved round among the rooms and library. 
 It was necessary to take a carriage for the Castle, nine 
 hundred feet above the level of the town. We drove 
 first to the heights above, where we could look down 
 upon the ruins below, magnificent even in ruins. The 
 Castle, in its days of glory, must have formed a city in 
 itself. Belonging to a later day than any of the ruined 
 castles of England, it presents many beauties of archi- 
 tecture. The Otto Heinrich's castle is a remarkably fine 
 specimen of Renaissance architecture. Alas, my knowl- 
 edge of German history proves sadly inadequate for the 
 proper appreciation of these castles. 
 
 The day proved uncomfortably warm, and after 
 leaving the carriage we really found the heat oppressive. 
 It was our wish to see the room where the students 
 fight their duels, and for this purpose we were obliged to 
 cross the Neckar. In the upper chamber of a 
 modest guest-house, known as the Hirsch, the silly 
 boys hack at each other. We met one of the idiots with 
 a dozen or more gashes in his face. We found our way 
 back to the hotel, and, taking a simple dinner, left at 
 four o'clock for Frankfort. 
 
 Frankfort pleased us because, in its newer parts, it 
 resembles an American city. Our walk in the early 
 evening was very pleasant. Our hotel, the Swan some-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 107 
 
 what famous as being the place where the Treaty of 
 Frankfort, at the close of the Franco- Prussian war, was 
 signed was near many points of interest. The monu- 
 ments of Schiller, Goethe and Gutenberg are impressive. 
 We took the horse cars a little before eight, and soon 
 found ourselves in a real German beer garden. It was 
 indeed a beautiful spot. L/ighted by hundreds of jets, 
 the water, the grass, the trees, the flowers, all looked like 
 fairy land. The flowers were very fine. Great beds of 
 calladiums, of cannas, of hydrangas, of coleas, of salvias, 
 of every beautiful foliage or flowering plant, were ar- 
 ranged in charming taste. The house, the former pal- 
 ace of a Prince of Nassau, was converted into refresh- 
 ment rooms. But the music was the chief attraction. It 
 was of a light order, Strauss and the like, but beauti- 
 fully rendered with string instruments. 
 
 Charles sat up late arranging a perfect plan for 
 sight-seeing which would enable us to take the twelve- 
 forty train for Weimar. He succeeded admirably. We 
 left the house promptly at eight, and proceeded to the 
 Panorama to see a painting of the Battle of Sedan. 
 Upon arrival we found that an enterprising Yankee had 
 transported the picture to America, and a painting of the 
 first battle of the war, Weissenburg, had taken its place. 
 It simply served to deepen our horror of war. From the 
 Panorama we turned to Bethmann's Museum, a small
 
 io8 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 private collection, containing Dannecker's Ariadne on 
 the Panther. This work of the Stuttgart artist, of the 
 first of the present century, is worthy to be placed side 
 by side with the work of the great Greek sculptors. 
 Indeed, I hardly know what work equals it in the poise 
 and litheness of the figure. It is shown under a light 
 which both conceals certain defects in the marble and 
 throws a life-like appearance upon it. Next in order came, 
 in the Romer, the Kaisersaal. This building faces a me- 
 diaeval square quite in contrast with the new parts of the 
 city. The point of interest is the Hall of the Emperors, 
 which contains portraits of the Emperors from Charle- 
 magne to Charles V. and his obscure successors. The 
 house in which Goethe was born is kept as a memorial, 
 and shows clearly the easy circumstances of his family. 
 The memorials of the poet, consisting of pictures taken 
 at various times, pages of Wilhelm Meister, his writing 
 desk, lock of hair, etc., all served to bring him nearer 
 to us. 
 
 The ride of a little more than seven hours to Weimar 
 in a fast train was very pleasant but brought to us 
 nothing of special interest. 
 
 The Russischer Hof at Weimar welcomed us. We 
 did not find it luxurious, but it was comfortable. 
 All the hotels we have so far found on the continent 
 give us fresh, clean beds. We were glad to
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 109 
 
 be at rest after a busy day. But the next day, 
 Thursday, was destined to be busier yet. Weimar 
 seemed full of interest. It is the capitol of Saxe- Weimar 
 as well as the literary center of the olden time. The 
 statue of the Dichter-Paar, Goethe and Schiller, was the 
 first point of interest. A most fine and fitting memorial, 
 too, it is. Near by is the house where Schiller lived, 
 worked, and died. The rooms are still shown. The bed 
 on which he died, decked with wreathes, is pointed out. 
 We found his grave as well as that of Goethe in what 
 the Germans so beautifully call the Friedhof , and in the 
 tomb of the Grand Duke they both sleep together. 
 
 Herder and Wieland have statues at Weimar. 
 Like all the bronze figures we have seen in Germany, 
 they are excellent. Time forbade us to visit the Schloss 
 or the Kirche, in both of which are fine paintings. But 
 we wanted to crowd Jena with its university into the 
 day, and yet sleep at Leipsic. This we were able to do 
 by taking a train before noon, for Jena lies but an hour 
 away. In Jena, being a small town somewhat off 
 from the line of travel, we found no English spoken, 
 but summoning all our reserve force we met our 
 occasion and conquered. A bust of Schiller by 
 Dannecker, placed on the spot where he composed 
 Wallenstein when a professor at the university, interested 
 me, but the university I allowed Charles to visit alone.
 
 i io CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 In getting to the Denkmal we were obliged to go through 
 a professor's house and passed the family at their dinner 
 on a kind of back piazza. It looked cosy. 
 
 We fulfilled our plans and slept in Leipsic at the 
 Hotel Hauffe. Friday morning I felt quite willing that 
 Charles should investigate the problem of university 
 education at I/eipsic, alone. Leipsic seemed to offer few 
 attractions. It is a great commercial town. We there- 
 fore decided to spend the remainder of the day at Halle 
 and go thence to Wittenberg for the night. A ride of an 
 hour about town enabled us to see the Rosenthal park, 
 as well as many of the streets. The theatre is a fine 
 building of the Greek order. The trip to Halle began 
 inauspiciously. I was unfortunate enough to address a 
 soldier as a railroad official and a university student as a 
 horse car conductor, and their inward wrath showed 
 outwardly and was overpowering. We were 'able to find 
 our way about very well, however. Charles went into 
 several buildings of the university, and we both went to 
 the new library, a fine brick building, holding three 
 hundred thousand volumes, erected in 1880. It seemed 
 to be admirably arranged for work. 
 
 It was quite late when we arrived at Wittenberg. 
 Die Goldene Weintraube did not seem over- attractive. 
 A friendly word in our native tongue greeted us, but a 
 huge hogshead had to be passed in the hall. Our room
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. in 
 
 was very comfortable, and we suffered no inconvenience 
 on account of speaking German. Our Baedeker played 
 us false, but fortunately we found a map in the office and 
 devoted our evening to planning the next day. The 
 morning light showed us a quaint old town with little sign 
 of change since Luther trod the streets. In front of the 
 hotel in the Market place were gathered the usual crowd of 
 women with all kinds of produce for sale, a sight common 
 on market days in all German towns. When it began to 
 rain it seemed not to affect anyone. For those who had 
 booths or umbrellas, it was well. For those who had not, 
 it was all the same. In this market stand two bronze 
 statues, one of Luther and one of Melanchthon, which are 
 in no way wonderful. The Luther oak, which marks 
 the spot where Luther burned the papal bull, we piously 
 sought. Our matter of fact guide-book swept away all 
 feeling of sentiment by telling us that this place was not 
 the real place, only erroneously supposed to be. Be that 
 as it may, no doubt exists but that his home was in 
 the old Augustinian, a monastery, now used as a 
 theological seminary. In these rooms are many 
 memorials of him; the table where he wrote, the 
 pulpit from which he preached, the curious double chair 
 in which he and his wife sat (a thoroughly German affair, 
 his side with a back, hers with none), pictures of himself, 
 pages of his manuscript, collections of his books, and,
 
 ii2 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 carefully cherished, his beer-mug which, to do him 
 justice, was smaller than most of those one sees in 
 Germany. 
 
 Standing upon such spots one can never feel as he 
 ought to feel, yet I think I had a deep feeling of awe in 
 the old Stadt Kirche, where for the first time the blood of 
 our Lord was drunk in the fruit of the wine. It means 
 so much to us all that that man dared. I wanted, too, to 
 see the prints of the nails in the door of the old Schloss 
 Kirche, but the door no longer stands. Its lineal suc- 
 cessor was also covered while repairs on the church were 
 in progress. Here is his grave, and near by that of his 
 friend Melanchthon. Other men might have done his 
 work, but he did it. Pious ones will ever turn their 
 steps toward Wittenberg. 
 
 At one o'clock we were en route for Berlin, and 
 arrived in time to get our mail at the banker's, which 
 made our heart light by good news all around from home. 
 We found pleasant quarters reserved for us by Frau 
 Fulleborn, 44 Jerusalem Strasse. It was a change and a 
 relief to sit down to a table filled with pleasant people, 
 all Americans except the family. We were prepared to 
 rest to the full extent of the Fourth Commandment. 
 Sunday morning we found a little American Chapel, 
 where we heard an excellent sermon, a sermon really 
 refreshing. There is a strong tendency to let down the
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 113 
 
 tone of our spiritual life when away from all associations, 
 and the sermons we have heard since coming to the Con- 
 tinent are not of a type to stir deeply the spiritual 
 life. We spoke with the clergyman after service and 
 found him to be Professor Stuckenberg. Part of the 
 afternoon a young New Yorker, a student, *Mr. Arm- 
 strong by name, spent in our room, and part we spent 
 in writing. 
 
 Monday morning we started out with the idea that 
 Berlin possessed very little of interest to us, and we 
 strolled away to walk among the palaces and to see what 
 was most worth seeing. Unter den Linden we were dis- 
 appointed in. We stepped into the arsenal and found a 
 full collection of armory of various ages finely arranged. 
 In the upper part of the building a hall is being decorated 
 as a kind of temple of fame, illustrating by its frescoes and 
 statues the military prowess of Prussia. Although not 
 entirely done, it is yet sufficiently finished to show its 
 general effect. While too gorgeous with its red marble 
 pillars, its gilt decorations, its painted walls and gilded 
 bronze statues, to be in strictly good taste, it yet serves 
 its general purpose, which is display. The collections of 
 armor and uniforms upon this upper floor were more 
 interesting to me than the guns below. Everywhere is 
 blazoned forth the victories over the French. Captured 
 
 * Now Professor Armstrong of Wesleyau University at Middletown.
 
 ii4 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 French flags from Sedan and Waterloo, captured guns and 
 cannon are here displayed. The fresco, or wall- 
 painting, representing the surrender at Sedan, is quite 
 touching. 
 
 The National Gallery of Art, which consumed the 
 rest of the day, interested us but little. Hardly a picture 
 seemed to have real power. One by Louis Gallait, whose 
 works we admired so much at Brussels The Last Hours 
 of Kgmont held us longer than any other. 
 
 Tuesday dawned a beautiful day, an ideal day for our 
 trip to Potsdam. A New York lady and fellow-boarder 
 here was glad to join us in making the trip for our com- 
 pany, and we were glad to have her for her superior 
 knowledge of German. We took the ten o'clock train, 
 which brought us to Potsdam at about eleven. We there 
 engaged a carriage for the day and spent the rest of it 
 in driving from point to point. We first went to 
 Babelsberg, the present summer residence of the Emperor. 
 The palace, built in English Gothic style, is situated in a 
 pleasant park preserved in a natural state. The interior, 
 which we were shown, was not beautiful, hardly 
 attractive A reception room, once occupied by the 
 crown princess, was pretty, and her apartments were 
 interesting on account of some of her own paintings. 
 The Kaiser's bed-room and working-room were plain and 
 adorned chiefly with family pictures.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 115 
 
 From Babelsberg we drove to an old palace of 
 Prince Carl, father of Frederick Charles, brother of the 
 Kaiser. The house we were not permitted to enter, 
 but the grounds and views from the grounds we enjoyed. 
 Passing several places of less interest, among them the 
 Marmor palace of Prince Wilhelm, son of the crown 
 prince, we reached the famous park of Sans Souci. We 
 approached on the side of the picture gallery, and this 
 was the first building we entered. Its art treasures are 
 not great. Many of its best pictures have been carried to 
 the Berlin galleries, and those that remain, which are 
 attributed to great masters, I should regard as of doubtful 
 genuineness. The main palace was evidently built to fit its 
 name. It is a one-storied structure in the renaissance 
 style, and seemed to be the home of Frederick the musician, 
 and Frederick the literateur, rather than of Frederick the 
 general and monarch. Here are the room and the chair 
 in which he died, here his library, a charmingly cosy, 
 circular room, here the room occupied by his friend Vol- 
 taire. One room, decorated in porcelain flowers, was quite 
 unique, and the fittings of all the rooms were sumptuous. 
 The orangery was even more beautiful. The garden in 
 front was laid out with great taste, and its fountains and 
 rare flowers, its pond and tame fishes were a delight to 
 the eye. One pretty conceit was a grapery in which the 
 grape-vines were trained on trellises, ornamented by
 
 n6 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 busts, giving the impression of Bacchuses The palace 
 itself, with its wide portico extending the length of the 
 building, is richly adorned with statues. The central 
 saloon is filled with copies of Raphael. Other rooms 
 are furnished in sumptuous style. 
 
 From Sans Souci we drove to the Neues Schloss, 
 part of which is occupied as a summer house by the 
 crown prince. Over the beautiful waxed floors we were 
 required to walk in felt slippers, in which we could very 
 well skate. Here we were completely bewildered by the 
 richness of the rooms. No wonder Frederick burned 
 the bills incurred in erecting this immense and magni- 
 ficent structure. One room which has almost driven all 
 others from my mind, was a circular room, seventy- five 
 or one hundred feet in diameter, the walls and pillars of 
 which were completely encrusted in precious mineral. 
 Quartz, agate, onyx, jasper, amethyst, malachite, garnet, 
 amber, pearl shells and lapis lazuli were cemented together 
 as I never supposed they existed, except in the dreams of 
 the New Jerusalem. Twelve marble fountains adorned 
 the sides, and immense crystal chandeliers depended from 
 the painted ceiling. What its magnificence must be 
 when lighted, and the fountains playing, we could only 
 imagine. 
 
 At the Garrison Church we found the tomb of this 
 great man who held the fate of empires in his hand.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 117 
 
 The Stadt Schloss was very interesting, and a silver 
 salon, whose decorations and furniture were all of silver 
 plate, and its upholstery blue, was the prettiest room of 
 all we saw. Divided from it by a silver balustrade, 
 was the private cabinet of the old King, Frederick the 
 Great, containing a curious table which could be lowered 
 through the floor and food put on it and again hoisted, 
 so no servant need enter the apartment. In his working- 
 room was a desk covered with blue velvet, stained with 
 ink, at which he wrote. A square piece cut from the 
 desk was taken away by Napoleon, who also took the 
 sword from his coffin. 
 
 We were late for dinner, but what cared we ? The 
 day had been delightful. All the next day I was filled with 
 a kind of bounding joy that I was not born to royalty. It 
 makes the pretension of the world seem hollow indeed to 
 rap with one's cane on the coffin of Frederick the Great. 
 
 Early the next morning we went to Charlottenburg, 
 stopping on the way at the American Exchange to read 
 the papers. At Charlottenburg was another palace for 
 our inspection. L,ike the others, it was sumptuous, 
 indeed. The most interesting room was a salon of Queen 
 Sophia Charlotte, decorated with blue porcelain dishes, 
 presented to her by the merchants of London. The walls 
 were wainscotted with dinner plates, while the fringes 
 were of cups, saucers and vases. The satin hangings of
 
 u8 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 some of the rooms were beautiful. Yet the mausoleum 
 had more interest than anything else at Charlottenburg. 
 In it rest Frederick Wilhelm III. and his beautiful wife, 
 Ivouisa, parents of the present Emperor. The recumbant 
 figures, exquisitely carved from Carrara marble and 
 shown under blue glass, were wonderfully beautiful and 
 effective. Coming back we stopped for a walk in the 
 Thier Garden, a fine park to the west of the city, adorned 
 with statues, fountains, etc. , but for the most part kept 
 as a natural forest. Here are statues of Frederick 
 Wilhelm III. and Queen Louisa, the latter, recently 
 erected, is admirable. 
 
 From the gardens we took a carriage home, where 
 we arrived in time for lunch. Our afternoon sally was 
 to the Old Museum, where we expected to find little and 
 found much. The collection of original Greek and 
 Roman sculptures is large, surpassing that of the British 
 Museum. The collection of paintings, though small, is 
 choice. The finest Rembrandt we have seen, I think, is 
 Samson and his Father-in-law. The museum contains a 
 number of Rubens, none equal to those we have seen, yet 
 confirming the impression that we had formed of him. 
 The ringing of the four o'clock bell closed the gallery 
 and, going out, we took a carriage in which to complete 
 the day's sight-seeing. We went to the Jewish syna- 
 gogue, the largest in Europe, seating four thousand five
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 119 
 
 hundred persons. We then sought the bronze monument 
 of the Great Elector, and then the remarkable statue of 
 Frederick the Great, a marvelous work of its kind. 
 Having stopped at the banker's we were made happy by 
 letters, one from precious Mary. Driving out the Bran- 
 denburg gate we passed the Column of Victory, a remark- 
 able memorial of the triumph of ' 70-' 7 1 , and the new 
 Reichstag, now building. We reached the Zoological 
 Gardens and had altogether too short a time to see its 
 wonders. Its houses are more sumptuous than those in 
 London, but the collection of animals I should not think 
 as fine. One bear put out his paw in a most enticing 
 manner, begging for something to eat. Watching the 
 elephants eat hasty pudding was highly amusing. We 
 were late for dinner. Evenings are usually filled with 
 writing. I also try to improve my German a bit, and 
 find the desire strong to settle down to a thorough stud} 7 
 of the language. On the whole, I can use the language 
 with more facility than I had a right to expect. 
 
 Thursday morning we awoke to a rainy day, but it 
 did not daunt us. First I did a little shopping for neces- 
 sary things, finding articles very dear. Charles and I 
 met, by agreement, at Schloss Place and, after buying 
 pictures, we went into the new museum. This, consisting 
 largely of plaster casts, we did not linger over long. Six 
 mural paintings, one, in particular, of the Huns fighting
 
 120 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 in air, were fine. The old royal palace finished our in- 
 spection of the houses of royalty. We were hurried 
 through these rooms with a large party and were unable 
 to understand the guide. In magnificence they surpass 
 anything we saw at Potsdam. In fact their magnificence 
 cloyed. Rooms plated in gold and silver, silver thrones 
 and gorgeous tapestries, gold and silver plate, solid silver 
 columns were among the glories. The picture gallery 
 was very interesting, and also the Queens' room, con- 
 taining the portraits of all the Prussian Queens. Here 
 for the first time we saw poor Queen Elizabeth, wife of 
 the Great Frederick. A fine picture of the present 
 Kaiser, and of the great elector, as well as of the beau- 
 tiful Queen L/ouisa, claimed more attention than we could 
 give. The bridal chamber was interesting, and on the 
 marble window cases were engraved, in gold, the names 
 of all the royal couples here made one. 
 
 DRESDEN, 26 September. 
 
 We left Frau Fiilleborn's in Berlin with real regret, 
 early yesterday morning. It was some compensation 
 that we left the German capital enveloped in rain. The 
 journey of three hours between Berlin and Dresden was 
 uninteresting. The country, for the most part, was flat. 
 Three Germans, one a woman, occupied the carriage with 
 us, and their incessant clatter was almost crazing. It all 
 seemed to be about fifty pfennigs.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 121 
 
 As soon as we had removed the dust of travel we 
 started to find the gallery, an easy matter, for it is con- 
 tained in an immense building, apparently taking in a 
 large part of the city. A glorious gallery it is, full of 
 the richest treasures of the art of all ages and people. 
 One thing was very noticeable, that the subjects of the 
 paintings are almost wholly sacred or mythological; 
 historical scenes and landscapes play a small part. 
 Rubens is represented by some thirty pictures, nearly all 
 of mythological subjects. In conception and execution 
 they all fall much below those we have seen at Antwerp, 
 Brussels or Berlin, and almost inclined me to modify the 
 high opinion I had formed of him as an artist. The 
 tendency to paint huge masses of flesh is, in these works, 
 exaggerated, and in mythological scenes becomes 
 voluptuous. His pupils, especially Jordaens, exag- 
 gerate this fault. Several of my favorite, Rembrandt, 
 are here, two from the history of Samson and several 
 portraits, but none so striking as the Samson at Berlin. 
 "We were very much interested in several exquisite 
 paintings by a Dutch artist, Van Werff, the finish of 
 which were as delicate as ivory. Among the most famous 
 of the pictures are Correggio's L,a Notte and Magdalen, 
 Guide's Christ crowned with thorns, Murillo's St. 
 Roderiguez, Bottom's Magdalen, Holbein's Madonna, 
 but before and beyond every other treasure stands the
 
 122 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Sistine Madonna. Familiar as we have always been 
 with reproductions of all kinds of this famous picture, it 
 was yet a revelation. I had never dreamed of its power. 
 Into the little room which it alone occupies, everyone 
 comes with bated breath. All talk is in a subdued 
 whisper, every foot-fall is hushed. The feeling of 
 profound reverence and its manifestations are instructive. 
 Any levity would seem like sacrilege. 
 
 The larger part of Saturday we also spent in the 
 gallery, and an hour or more in the Grime Gewolbe or 
 green vault of the royal palace. The art treasures of 
 these rooms, although of a different character from those 
 of the gallery, are no less wonderful. In bronze, in 
 ivory, in pearl, in amber, in gems of all kinds the col- 
 lection is wonderfully rich. Cups carved from amber, 
 whole cabinets made of the material, sabres of solid gold 
 and mother of pearl, vases set with garnets and turquois, 
 these were some of the many wonders. But the gems 
 were the most dazzling. Here were arranged cases of 
 diamonds, of rubies, of emeralds and sapphires of untold 
 value. Swords whose hilts were a solid blaze of diamonds, 
 a bow containing six hundred and sixty-two diamonds, 
 the smallest being about the size of those in my 
 ear-rings, the largest like a three cent piece ! One neck- 
 lace contained thirty-eight diamonds, the largest like a 
 five cent nickel, the smallest the size of a silver three
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 123 
 
 cent piece. These cases were a blaze of glory. After 
 buying some pictures and making an attempt to buy some 
 linen, which I found quite as dear as it would have been in 
 America, we went home to dinner. I felt tired, and as it 
 was raining, spent the remainder of the afternoon in 
 reading and writing. 
 
 Sunday found me quite used up, and instead of 
 going to church I went to bed. Monday we took an 
 early start through the rain to the Johannessen Museum. 
 These museums are growing painfully monotonous. 
 This one was composed, for the most part, of arms and 
 armour, although there were, as in the green vaults, 
 some exquisite objects of vertu. One of the most 
 remarkable of them was a jeweled set of back-gammon. 
 Both the board and men were decked with pearls, emer- 
 alds, garnets and gold. It was a sight which I supposed 
 did not exist out of fairy land, to see horses decked with 
 harnesses set in all manner of precious stones. Here are 
 treasured some mementos of historical interest. Here 
 are the sword of Luther, the armor of Gustavus Adolphus, 
 a saddle of Napoleon, a hunting horn of Henry IV., etc. 
 
 We did not see the sun in Dresden, and much of the 
 time the rain fell as it did when we left. At the station 
 
 we found the H s, with whom we had previously 
 
 traveled from Geneva to Chamounix. The insufferable 
 courier was still with them. Poor Mama H
 
 124 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 begins to feel some anxiety as to how the money is going. 
 They had a bill for candles of one dollar and seventy-five 
 cents for a night at one place. Their slip-shod manner 
 of traveling shows very well how one may spend quan- 
 tities of money and get very little. They spent the 
 night in Dresden, stayed until noon, and did not see the 
 Sistine! 
 
 Prague seems old and ancient, with a bit of orient- 
 alism about it. We arrived before three and at once took a 
 carriage and drove out to find Mr. Clark, the missionary 
 of the American Board. This was somewhat difficult, but 
 we finally discovered him, and after a short visit received 
 his promise to call in the evening. We then drove to 
 the Burg, famous for having witnessed the outbreak of 
 the Thirty Years' War. The old Cathedral, near it, is in 
 process of restoration. Wallenstein's palace, still owned 
 by a branch of his family, had a great interest. Its 
 beautiful marble hall, its chapel and garden dining-room 
 are as the great general left them. Theckla's portrait 
 was on the walls, but it was growing too dark to see it. 
 We drove to the hotel across a fine old bridge (Karl's 
 Briicke), adorned with thirty or more fine statues. Some 
 of them are painful, as one of the crucifixion. Such 
 representations are extremely painful to me. I can only 
 hope they help some into a better life. It was hardly 
 home, going back to our hotel, the Englische Hof. For
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 125 
 
 the first time I felt a repugnance to sleeping in a hotel 
 bed. The room was far from inviting, and nothing 
 seemed attractive. The evening was spent with Mr. 
 Clark, who talked with us most of the time about his 
 work, which is, indeed, laborious. It gave me a better 
 idea than I before had, of how work in Papal lands may 
 be blessed. A large part of his work is through the 
 dead State Protestant churches. He has been instru- 
 mental in organizing many Sunday-schools in such 
 churches. 
 
 Tuesday morning was rainy again, but in spite of 
 this fact we found our way out soon after breakfast. 
 We visited the Hussite church, where Huss preached 
 four centuries ago. Its altars and pillars were loaded 
 with emblems of papacy. In no church have we seen so 
 much evidence of superstition. It made me feel sick at 
 heart. To have once known the truth and to have fallen 
 from it, how much greater the degradation! We also did 
 a little shopping in the garnet jewelry and glass, 
 for which Bohemia is famed. We ordered a set of glass 
 sent to London, but I have serious doubt whether it will 
 ever reach its destination. 
 
 At half-past eleven we took the train for Vienna, 
 and were packed rather closely with disagreeable peo- 
 ple. I presume they thought we were disagreeable, 
 for they wanted the window up and we wanted it
 
 126 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 down. The country through which the journey was 
 made was rather interesting, different from a part of 
 the country between Dresden and Prague, which I 
 suppose was the outskirts of the Saxon-Switzerland. 
 We reached Vienna about seven, rather tired. The ride 
 from the station to our pension in Maximillian Platz was 
 rather long, and the first pension we called at did not 
 receive us. Twice we were stopped on the way; once 
 for toll over a bridge, and once for customs. Vienna has 
 customs of its own. All these countries are fearfully 
 taxed. Even a poor boarding-house keeper must pay 
 tax on her boarders, and no matter how small an income 
 is, it must still be taxed. 
 
 Wednesday was largely spent in finding out what a 
 beautiful city Vienna is. The outside of the buildings 
 so delighted us that we were quite contented without 
 entering them. We found the Imperial Library, a hand- 
 some museum of three hundred and fifty thousand vol- 
 umes. We also visited Harrach's picture gallery, a 
 small, private collection without much of note or merit, 
 hardly worth climbing the stairs for. At the banker's 
 we found our letters, a delightful treat. In the after- 
 noon we found our way to St. Stephen's church, the 
 most conspicuous as well as the oldest of the churches of 
 the city. Its spire is very fine, but the inside of the 
 church, like most Catholic houses of worship, seemed
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 127 
 
 cheap and taudry in the excess of ornamentation. A 
 walk about the Ring revealed more beauties to admire. 
 The two new museums, the Academy of Art, the Palais 
 de Justice, the Parliament House, the Rath House, and 
 the University, all within a stone's throw of each other, 
 represent probably fifty millions in money and, in beauty, 
 are a cluster of buildings unequalled for architectural 
 impressiveness. That the old fortifications were lev- 
 eled to form the street on which these buildings are 
 situated, is a particularly pleasing thought to an ardent 
 peace woman. In the Volk Garten, a pretty park oppo- 
 site these buildings, we found in a chaste Greek temple 
 Canova's Theseus and the Curtain, a work of Greek 
 simplicity and power. Near by the bronze statues of 
 Duke Charles and Eugene of Savoy draw the attention 
 for their vigor. 
 
 Thursday morning we gave to the Imperial Treasury. 
 I had thought that at Dresden we had exhausted the 
 beauty of gems and jewels, but here was a collection 
 which charmed us for hours: the Austrian regalia, 
 the regalia of the Holy Roman Empire, the 
 regalia of Napoleon as King of Italy. But what could 
 more plainly tell of the transition of life than to behold 
 the jewels of Marie Antoinette and the cradle of the 
 little King of Rome? Who could covet the smallest 
 gem? Yet it was a delight and privilege to see such
 
 128 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 dainty and delicate things. Some of the articles made of all 
 manner of precious minerals, such as hyacinth, jasper, 
 lapis lazuli, chrysolite, emerald, garnet, agate, sardonyx, 
 onyx, etc., were beautiful in the extreme. The royal 
 christening robes, heavy with pearls and gold, were 
 beautiful to look upon, yet on how many an unhappy 
 baby have they been placed. The cabinet of coins and 
 antiquities contained other fine gems, the cameos being 
 particularly fine. 
 
 In the afternoon we took a horse-car excursion to 
 Schonbrunn, the summer home of the Emperor. The 
 horse- cars here are hardly to be patronized for pleasure. 
 They are usually over crowded and have smoking rooms 
 back and front. The smoke must always be encountered, 
 whether one gets in or out. The tobacco traffic is 
 the monopoly of the government, and I suppose it is 
 money in its pocket to encourage the use of the weed. 
 The palace at Schonbrunn presented nothing wonderful 
 except its size. A building of numberless rooms stretches 
 itself over many feet of ground. Owing to the Emperor's 
 presence we were not able to get inside. The garden 
 was very pretty, tastefully decorated with statuary and 
 flowers. The palm house, a small crystal palace, was 
 very beautiful. 
 
 Friday, October 2d, we reserved for the Belvidere 
 picture gallery and gave to it our entire morning. The
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 129 
 
 collection is full and representative, containing more 
 works of Italian masters than any we have yet seen. It 
 is particularly rich in examples of the best portrait 
 painters. Not many Rembrandts, but it has good 
 examples of Rubens, Van Dyke, Titian, Velasquez and 
 Veronese. Nor are there any very famous works. 
 Carlo Dolce' s Mater, which we see so often copied, 
 Titian's Woman taken in Adultery, are perhaps the best 
 known. Here, too, is Titian's Ecce Homo, an unfeeling 
 work, which tended to confirm my belief that Titian had 
 no spiritual insight. Battoni's Prodigal Son pleased me 
 very much. It pictured the son upon his father's breast 
 and the father drawing his mantel about him. A Mag- 
 dalen by Orazio Gentileschi, which gave me quite a dif- 
 ferent impression from that of Correggio or Battoni , was 
 very striking; there the penitent woman has her eyes 
 turned toward heaven. Augustus Carsaci's St. Francis 
 was full of expression, and we admired the Presentation 
 in the Temple by Fra Bartolommeo, the first of his 
 works which we have seen. The gallery has a number 
 of Guide's, w r hich show him to have been a most unequal 
 artist. 
 
 Saturday we finished up odds and ends. We spent 
 our freshest hour and a half, from half-past nine until 
 eleven, in getting into the Parliament buildings, and 
 after we crowded in and got our tickets there was very
 
 i 3 o CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 little to see. The room of the popular branch is semi- 
 circular, adorned with marble and furnished with ordi- 
 nary desks, in no respect striking. After coming out we 
 went to the front of the building and walked into the 
 vestibule, a solid marble aula in the Greek style. We were 
 allowed no further advance, and came away muttering 
 that it does not compare with Washington's Capitol. 
 The Art Museum, near the Parliament House, possesses 
 a large collection of early paintings. There was very 
 little interest to us in the collection. But the building, 
 the Academy of Art, is very beautiful and well adapted 
 to its purposes. In the front of it stands a fine bronze 
 statue of Schiller. Nearly every town seems to have 
 some monument to the poet of the people. In the after- 
 noon we visited the Capuchins, where are the royal vaults. 
 Near by, in the Augustinian Church, is an elaborate 
 marble monument, by Canova, to Marie Christina, 
 daughter of Maria Theresa. Although the separate 
 parts seemed good, the effect of the whole was bad. We 
 then took a carriage and had a drive of an hour to the 
 banks of the Danube. I had expected to find the blue 
 Danube a yellow, murky stream, but it was really blue, 
 and the view from the Rudolph Briicke at sun-set was 
 wholly charming. 
 
 Sunday morning we were awakened by beating of 
 drums and blowing of bugles, and we aroused with a
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 131 
 
 vague impression that it must be the Fourth of July. It 
 proved to be the Emperor's patron saint's day, and in 
 the Votive Church, opposite our house, early services 
 were held which the military attended with grand parade. 
 We found for ourselves a little Scotch Presbyterian 
 chapel, where we heard an excellent sermon from Pro- 
 fessor Solman, of Aberdeen. His theme was the first 
 Psalm, and he cut down deep into character and life: 
 good, honest preaching. The afternoon was spent in 
 writing, but in the evening we had a treat. 
 
 I don't know that I always regard missionary concerts 
 as a treat, but of a Sunday evening, in a far away city, they 
 partake of this character. Into the house came, on Friday, 
 Dr. Post and Mrs. Post and their little boy, on their way 
 back to Bey rut. A Miss Kelly, whom we had previously 
 met at Edinburgh, and who is thoroughly interested in all 
 good words and works, is in the house for the winter. Dr. 
 Dennis and Mrs. Dennis, also of Bey rut, are lodged near 
 by. When we planned our meeting we thought of having 
 the Posts and Miss Kelly, but Dr. Post invited the Dennises, 
 and brought in a young Dr. Glover, who returns with 
 him as instructor. Dr. Glover brought a young English 
 doctor, who is on his way as medical missionary to Bag- 
 dad, and Dr. Dennis brought too Dr. Henschel, who is the 
 chaplain of the English Embassy, and who has been of- 
 fered the Bishopric of Jerusalem. Frau L,ejeune and
 
 132 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Fraulein Schneider came in to swell the number to 
 eleven. To meet such cultured, scholarly men, who 
 have done such a vast work, broadens one's ideas of for- 
 eign missions. Dr. Post's work has been stupendous. 
 He has collected fifty thousand specimens of Syrian flow- 
 ers, and arranged and published in Arabic a complete 
 Flora. He has also published several other Arabic text- 
 books. The observatory at Beyrut is connected with 
 those at Vienna, Berlin and London for meteorological 
 observations. The hospital of the German order of St. 
 John is under the general supervision of the medical 
 faculty of the college. We were particularly interested 
 in the account of the abandonment of the vernacular as 
 the basis of instruction in the college. Dr. Henschel is 
 interested in prophecy, and stayed until eleven fitting 
 Scripture to oriental inscriptions and making out the 
 approaching end of all things. 
 
 To take the tiain from Vienna for Munich at seven 
 forty-five required early rising. But we screwed our 
 courage to the sticking-place and did it. It was with 
 real regret that we left this beautiful capital. Our home 
 with Frau L,ejeune was very pleasant. She and her sis- 
 ters were true ladies, and showed us great courtesies. 
 In leaving Vienna we left Austria. The country appar- 
 ently differs little from Germany. It, like its neighbor, 
 is burdened with an immense army. The people differ
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 133 
 
 in appearance quite a good deal from the Prussians. 
 They incline to be dark, sallow and wiry. Vienna is a 
 more cosmopolitan city than Berlin ; English and French 
 are more generally spoken, and more nationalities are 
 seen in the streets. Oriental costumes are by no means 
 uncommon. It is, too, a gayer place. Evidently the 
 theatre and opera play a more important part in the life 
 of the people. 
 
 From Vienna to Munich was a twelve hours' ride, 
 and we were obliged to make three changes. The car- 
 riages were not good, the roads were rough, and a part 
 of the way the train was slow. It seemed strange that the 
 day train between two so important capitals should not 
 be better equipped. It was like going from Franklin 
 to Aroostock county. We were, a part of the 
 way, interested in the antics of a newly wedded couple. 
 The naivete of the bride was quite charming, especially 
 when she leaned over and implanted a kiss on her bride- 
 groom's lips, or gave me a full account of herself. 
 There was also a good natured German, who regarded us 
 with curious interest and expressed undisguised amaze- 
 ment that we were not to dine all day. Yet, on the 
 whole, the day was tedious. The scenery was pretty, 
 but not striking ; the land rich and well tilled. At 
 Munich we found rooms at Frau Burger's, who seemed 
 the personification of good humor and easy going nature.
 
 134 CARRIE F, BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Her pension was hardly a model of neatness and elegance, 
 but we concluded we could endure it for a week, yet I 
 should be sorry to be condemned for a winter to her ten- 
 der mercies. The bed felt good, even the intolerable 
 feather beds were welcome, and we soon sought them. 
 Our conscientious methods in sight seeing did not allow 
 any extra nap in the morning, and by nine we were off 
 for the banker's. Here good news from home 
 awaited us. 
 
 The days at Munich we filled as full as possible, for 
 the city offered greater attractions than we had supposed. 
 It is really the finest German city we have seen. The 
 streets are broad and the buildings, though not beautiful, 
 are neat and substantial. The squares are numerous, 
 and adorned with fitting monuments and statues. The 
 Konig's Platz is beautiful by reason of its buildings in 
 purest Greek style. The Sieges Thor is so massive that 
 one could through it appreciate something of the power 
 of Greek architecture. We found our way into the 
 courts of the royal residence, and joined ourselves to a 
 party who were going we knew not whither, but it proved 
 to be a tour of the palace, which we had not intended 
 making. We were repaid by the frescoes by Schnorr, 
 which in one room depicted scenes from the life of 
 Charlemagne, and in another from the life of Barbarossa. 
 The dance hall was very beautiful, walled in solid marble
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 135 
 
 of exquisite tints. Most of the rooms were like those in 
 all palaces, dreary enough in their faded magnificence. 
 The new Pinakothek next drew us. Here we found a 
 beautiful collection of porcelain painting. Wonderfully 
 beautiful and expressive seemed the faces thus portrayed. 
 The paintings in oil were for the most part the work of 
 the Munich school, and contained some pieces of great 
 power. The Destruction of Jerusalem, by Kaulbach ; 
 the Death of Wallenstein, by Piloty, were among the 
 greatest. As I compare paintings of the modern school 
 with these of the ancient it seems to me the former fail 
 in the selection of topics. Some great truth must lie be- 
 hind a great picture. After dinner we sallied forth to 
 find Herr Tauber and his family. I am not sure that I 
 left any clear impression upon their minds beside the 
 fact that I spoke abominable German, but I think they 
 were pleased to meet some one who had so recently seen 
 their mother and sister. Herr Tauber seemed anxious 
 to do something for us, so he accompanied us to the 
 bronze factory. Here we at once felt at home, for the 
 first objects we saw were the legs of Daniel Webster, 
 and on looking about we recognized many friends, in- 
 cluding Washington, Patrick Henry, Jefferson, Lincoln, 
 Everett, Peabody, and others. Indeed, the larger part of 
 the models were to fill orders from America. The bronze 
 doors of the Capitol, the Cincinnati fountain, the Eman-
 
 136 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 cipation Group, at Washington, as well as many other of 
 our best bronze statues were made here. 
 
 Wednesday morning before nine o'clock Herr 
 Tauber called, who had kindly offered to visit with 
 us the Glyptothek and the Old Museum. The Glyptothek 
 delighted us exceedingly. Its collection of Greek and 
 Roman statuary is not only large, but in a remarkable 
 state of preservation. I will confess to having been 
 more pleased with the statues from the pediment of the 
 Temple at ^Egina than with the Elgin marbles. The fig- 
 ures were very perfect, although in parts they have been 
 restored, but restored by Thorwaldsen. The building is 
 extremely beautiful and the taste of the arrangement be- 
 yond criticism. The halls were pillared in marble and 
 vaulted in gold and pale tints of green or blue. The 
 Old Museum, was to me hardly as interesting as 
 the Dresden Gallery, although standing close up to 
 it. It has no one great picture to place beside the 
 Sistine Madonna. In it, however, we saw Diirer 
 at his best, in his Four Evangelists, Paul being 
 the finest. A picture attributed to Massy s, if it really 
 were his work, would go far to reconciling us to his 
 reputation. It was an altar piece of the Entombment, 
 and both in delicacy of conception and execution is 
 worthy of great praise. Guido Reni's Assumption 
 seemed to us among the best of the pictures. Its color-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 137 
 
 ing and expression, as well as its conception, are admirable. 
 Here Murillo can be studied with advantage. All but 
 one of his pieces are genre, and that is a picture of a 
 monk. Here also is a large collection of the exquisitely 
 finished pictures of Van Werff. But we had not time 
 enough for this gallery. We needed to revisit it and to 
 linger. 
 
 In the afternoon we turned our faces to the museum 
 of fossils connected with the University, said to be the 
 fullest in existence, and indeed beside them all fossils 
 which I have ever seen sink into nothingness. My igno- 
 rance, which every day grows more colossal, prevented 
 anything like a proper appreciation of the value of these 
 tales of the rocks. The hipparion, ancestor of the 
 horse, was among the most interesting of these long-ex- 
 tinct animals. 
 
 The days in Munich were full and exhausting. We 
 were glad of extra rest on Thursday morning. In depart- 
 ing we left some pleasant people behind us. At ten o'clock 
 we started for the station and at a quarter before eleven 
 were on the way to Verona, a thirteen-hour trip. The 
 roads were rough and the carriages not over- comfortable, 
 yet the day wore on. We skirted the Tyrol, which we 
 entered at Innspruck, and made the Brunner pass, four 
 thousand feet high, before dark. The scenery of the 
 Tyrol we enjoyed as much as the Alps. The air and
 
 138 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 clouds were in a condition to give the best effects. The 
 autumn tints gave a new touch to the landscape, and the 
 snow-capped mountains laid a background for the whole. 
 The flood of a week ago had carried away a bridge just 
 beyond Bozen and here, in the dark, we were obliged to 
 get out and, by the aid of flaming torches, to cross a 
 plank bridge over the ravine. It was a picturesque sight 
 and the first experience of anything out of the natural 
 course which we have had. 
 
 But all things come to an end, and even jour- 
 neys to Verona, which include two custom house 
 examinations. The ride through the streets of this 
 ancient city at nearly midnight was a strange expe- 
 rience. We passed through heavy walls and under low 
 Roman arches, and between the high stone walls of the 
 houses which bounded the narrow streets. It was easy 
 to transport ourselves back to the days of Bocaccio, and 
 we almost expected to see a Romeo under some window 
 singing his farewell to his Juliet. I am glad we had this 
 touch of Verona by night. In the morning, as we rode 
 about, the illusion had vanished with the flood of sun- 
 light. Here, indeed, was the monster arena built in the 
 reign of Diocletian, but under its portals shop-keepers 
 were busy. Here were the Roman arches which had 
 stood for nearly two thousand years, but under them 
 Yankee horse- cars were plying and to them telegraph
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 139 
 
 wires were attached. Here were the palaces of nobles 
 and philosophers, but to them were affixed advertisments 
 of Singer Sewing Machines. So the daylight revealed 
 that we were not in the middle ages. We went to Juliet's 
 tomb, and here we found that irreverent visitors had cast 
 their visiting cards. The home of the Capulets did not 
 look just as it is represented on the stage, nor just as 
 our favorite garden scene in Society hall, which was 
 got up with special reference to the lover of this im- 
 mortal twain. Even the balcony was not there. 
 
 It was a wretchedly slow train which took us from 
 Verona to Venice. Seventy-one miles dragged out 
 through four hours, so that really the best of the day 
 was consumed in the trip, for it was nearly three when 
 our eyes rested on this wondrous city of the sea. I 
 expected Venice would be different from anything I had 
 ever seen, and was prepared to be charmed. But I 
 hardly expected anything so different and so charming. 
 The long bridge of two miles brought us to the Island 
 city and to one end of the great canal. At the station 
 were drawn up long rows of gondolas which, with their 
 black hulks and coverings like funeral palls, looked more 
 like a hearse than anything else. In the stern stood 
 the gondolier and, sitting with our back to him, we glided 
 noiselessly along, as though impelled by an unknown 
 power. In and out of small canals and large canals we
 
 I 4 o CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 sped, hardly noticing anything and only feeling into what a 
 strange life we had entered. Our gondolier might have 
 been Charon, our canal the Styx, and our haven Acheron, 
 for all likeness they bore to any previous experiences. 
 Here is a city without streets, without dust or mud, 
 without garden or parks, without horses or dogs, without 
 the sound of a passing foot or driving team, a city alive 
 and yet from which all ordinary signs of life are banished. 
 
 The Pension Suisse gave us a pleasant room on the 
 Grand canal and an excellent lunch, to which we were pre- 
 pared to do justice. Immediately, as our appetites 
 were satisfied, we stepped into our gondola and started to 
 explore the Grand canal and the colonies of Venice. 
 The houses and palaces present a strange melange of 
 ancient splendor and present decay. Where once the 
 nobles dwelt now tradesmen ply their business. But 
 neither time nor neglect can wholly dim the wonderful 
 architectural remains of this queer city. We entered 
 a church and there saw how totally different is the 
 Christian ideal in building houses of worship from 
 that of the North. The dome has supplanted the tower 
 and the spire, and the most sumptuous and ornate embel- 
 lishment the severe plainness of Gothic art. 
 
 Sunday, n October. 
 
 Here is a little time in which to look back over the 
 ground we have covered. Germany is behind us. On the
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 141 
 
 whole the impression left is not one of pleasure. Grand 
 and big and eminent as is this country, its characteristics 
 are not pleasing. Its type of civilization is powerful and 
 materical and is represented in its extremes by its army, 
 four hundred and fifty thousand strong, by its enormous 
 consumption of beer, by its feather-beds, and by its 
 universities with their materialistic and ideal philosophies. 
 To begin with, we saw no sign of religious life, by 
 which I mean spiritual, vital piety. Berlin had the 
 finest churches of any city of any size I was in. Sunday 
 is a work-day for the many, a feast-day for the few. 
 The state religion seems purely formal and includes 
 mechanical baptism, mechanical confirmation and auto- 
 matic instruction in the schools, while unbelief and skep- 
 ticism of all kinds are running riot. The men seem made 
 of coarse clay and are boorish in manners. The life of a 
 woman is too hard to be viewed with anything but 
 indignation. In addition to the duties of the house, the 
 women have laid upon them all kinds of the hardest, 
 most menial and degrading labor. In many parts of the 
 country a basket strapped upon the back seemed an 
 integral part of her dress, and in it she carried all kinds of 
 burdens, from vegetables to heavy boxes and huge piles 
 of wood. To see a woman in the rain, barefooted, bare- 
 headed and bearing a heavy burden, was a common sight. 
 Yet they seem a healthy race. That they are is a fact
 
 142 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 which controverts all my preconceived ideas of hygiene. 
 They hate fresh air in their houses, they drink beer and 
 live on sausage, sleep under and on feather-beds, their 
 children are half-clothed, with bare legs, arms and 
 necks, and yet they are pictures of health. They are a 
 hardy race. 
 
 I dread for German ideas to take a firmer hold of 
 American life. I feel sure that they are subversive of 
 the best type of character and civilization. Not much in 
 common have these burly denizens of the North with 
 the dark-eyed, graceful, light-hearted Italians. No 
 wonder the L,atin race perished before the northern 
 invader, no wonder art died and learning languished. We 
 are but yet in the confines of Italy, but already we can 
 see what different ideas and ideals have ruled here. So 
 far we are simply bewildered. Our yesterday was spent 
 in St. Mark's, in the Ducal Palace, in the Rialto, in a 
 gondola and in the shops. Impressions are too novel 
 to be analyzed; we must traverse the ground again. One 
 spot we shall not revisit. It is the prison of the Ducal 
 Palace and the Bridge of Sighs. Down, down we went 
 through a narrow corridor of solid masonry. On either 
 side were cells of utter darkness, lined with wood and 
 furnished with a plank bed. A hole in the wall admitted 
 food, and opposite this, in the corridor, a niche was seen, 
 on which were placed a crucifix and candle : sole spot of
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 143 
 
 light. Down, still down we went to the lowest depths, 
 reserved for political offenders. Here no wood lined the 
 cells, no plank served as bed, no crucifix lighted the 
 utter darkness. Who entered here, abandoned hope. He 
 passed the massive stone bridge, walled, covered and 
 grated, and turned his back on mercy. In the walls are 
 seen the holes which fastened the rivets of the guillotine, 
 and just beyond, crowning horror, three holes open to 
 the sea, gave to this silent keeper of horrors the blood of 
 the victim. As we paused, a suppressed gurgle reached 
 our ears, as though, in vain, the guardian of foul secrets 
 were struggling to speak and to tell the story. 
 
 Our Sunday was spent very quietly, but in no way 
 can we make a Sunday abroad a real Sabbath. We went 
 to the English chapel, climbing four flights of stairs. The 
 sermon was an indifferent prayer-meeting talk, yet it pre- 
 sented Christ as the only hope of salvation. The afternoon 
 we spent in writing. In the evening the gondoliers, their 
 boats decorated with gay lanterns, rowed up and down 
 the canal, singing. I fear the music was not of a sacred 
 character, but it had picturesque features. 
 
 Tuesday Evening. 
 
 This is our last night in Venice, and it is time to 
 gather up impressions and to put them in form. Venice 
 is more than I had dreamed or fancied. The air of per- 
 petual youth, the apparent absence of toil or care, the
 
 144 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 holiday appearance of men and things, foster the illusion 
 which the first sight of the city gives, that one has passed 
 the limits of our every-day world and entered the realms 
 of another planet. After the general impression had 
 been taken and we began to study in detail, the 
 peculiar and grand architecture of the city claimed atten- 
 tion. Here we met a type of architecture, as exhibited 
 in the churches, quite different from anything we had 
 before seen. The Gothic is replaced by the Byzantine, 
 and the severe chaste interior adornment by a wild 
 exuberance of sumptuous detail. This characteristic 
 is seen carried to its height in St. Mark's. Its seven 
 domes surmount an elaborately decorated pile in which 
 marbles of all hues and the richest mosaics and intricate 
 carvings are united. The interior is a mass of exquisite 
 workmanship. Hardly a square inch can be found on 
 which the artist has not wrought. In marble, in mosaic, 
 in wood and stone carving and in bronze, its decorations 
 may be found. The light is admitted by windows in the 
 domes, so small as to be hardly perceptible. The effect 
 is dark, but not gloomy, simply rich. The most effective 
 work to me is the head of Christ, in mosaic, over the 
 portal. To study St. Mark's in any fitting way is the 
 work of weeks. I did not study it enough to feel that it 
 is a Christian church.
 
 CARRIE F, BUTLER THWING. 145 
 
 Venice presents a domestic architecture no less 
 striking and unique. A ride through the Grand Canal 
 tells better than any words the character of these old, 
 noble Venetians. Other cities adorn their palaces and 
 churches, these men adorned their dwellings worthily, in 
 the highest and richest art. One can not but regret, 
 in visiting Venice in 1885, that his was not the 
 privilege to have seen it in 1585. One is constantly 
 filled with amazement in view of what this people was 
 and did. I cannot help believing that their conscientious 
 piety was a large element in their success in all lines of 
 endeavor. The pious care of the Venetian for the relics 
 of St. Mark, which forms so prominent a place in the 
 city's history, is not without significance. The adoring 
 attitude in which the Doges are painted has a meaning, 
 Venice was the queen of the sea, but the subject of the 
 Holy One. 
 
 The paintings of the Ducal Palace introduces us to 
 Venetian art at its best. After seeing the Titians, 
 Tintorettos and Veroneses there I felt I had not seen 
 these artists before. In Titian's figure of Truth, the 
 center of a large canvas, I felt for the first time that Tit- 
 ian may have had some spiritual insight, but even here 
 it was wanting. The execution and coloring of the pict- 
 ure are beyond compare. I am almost inclined to rank 
 second in the paintings of the Ducal Palace Giorgione's
 
 146 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Christ Enthroned. Tintoretto's Paradise required more 
 study than we could give. Yet we felt its power. There 
 is an upward, strong movement in the picture, which, 
 notwithstanding its immense number of figures, is not 
 fantastic. This canvas, eighty-five feet long, is believed 
 to be the largest single canvas in existence. 
 
 This morning we visited San Giorgio Maggiore. The 
 wood carvings (Flemish) of the choir stalls are the rich- 
 est we have seen. There is also in this church a mag- 
 nificent group in bronze, representing the Holy Family, 
 upon a globe supported by the four evangelists. The 
 figure of the father, irreverent as seems the attempt, 
 is one of singular grace and majesty. Connected with 
 this church was formerly a Benedictine monastery, de- 
 stroyed by Napoleon. It is strange how we have traced 
 the blighting and destroying influence of that man 
 throughout Europe. Yet I sometimes think he did some 
 good, by the over-ruling power of Providence, in break- 
 ing the hold of the idea of the divine right of kings 
 and of the infallibility of the church upon the popular 
 mind. The fact that he made the Pope a prisoner and 
 played foot ball with the crowned heads of Europe, even 
 grinding the remains of the Holy Roman Empire to 
 dust, must have made an impression not to be outgrown. 
 And he was a Corsican boy of humble birth. 
 
 Of course we visited the lace and glass factories.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 147 
 
 \ 
 
 My head was so turned by their bewildering charms that 
 I lost much sleep. The lace factory under government 
 control manufactures no less than thirty-four kinds of 
 old Venetian lace. It was quite an education to study 
 them. Glass we found exorbitant. We have not bought 
 a piece. The process of making was very interesting. 
 
 Wednesday Morning. 
 
 In rather a melancholy mood we started out for our 
 farewell view of the Queen city of the sea. We turned 
 our faces toward the Campanile in St. Mark's Place, in 
 order that we might obtain a comprehensive view. On 
 the way I stopped to feed the doves which swarmed upon 
 me in great numbers, lighting upon my hands, arms, 
 shoulders, anywhere that they could get a pick at the 
 corn in my hands. The ascent of the Campanile was not 
 by stairs, but by an ascending plane, and was very easy. 
 We feasted our eyes upon the panorama until I am sure 
 Venice will always have a place in our memories. At the 
 Piazzetta we took a gondola and visited the Church of 
 dei Frari, which has monuments to Titian and 
 Canova. The first is a fine work containing, in bas 
 relief, his Assumption. The other, very similar to the 
 monument executed by Canova for the daughter of Maria 
 Theresa at Vienna, merits all of Ruskin's criticisms. 
 Near the church is the Scuola Rocco, a handsome hall con- 
 taining many of Tintoretto's pictures. Unfortunately we
 
 148 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING, 
 
 had not time to make much of a study of them. " The 
 Crucifixion" and "Annunciation" are best known. 
 We were not able to see Tintoretto through Mr. Ruskin's 
 eyes, although the ass feeding on withered palm leaves 
 in the former picture is striking. 
 
 A hasty lunch, and we were soon at the station, 
 whence the one o'clock train bore us to Bologna, where 
 we arrived in the midst of a pouring rain at a little past 
 five. 
 
 Thursday morning we made our first visit to the 
 gallery, walking, and seeing the leaning towers and 
 much of interest. Nearly all the shops are built with 
 arcades, which form a complete defence from rain. The 
 city surprised us by its cleanliness. It seemed as clean a 
 city as we had been in. The gallery was a surprise to 
 us in the general excellence of its pictures. No gallery 
 we have yet seen has a better average. First in order of 
 merit doubtless is the St. Cecilia of Raphael. Strangely 
 enough this picture, unlike the Sistine Madonna, seemed 
 to us better in the engravings of it than in the 
 original. This is owing to the violent colors in which 
 the figures are represented, all against a heavy, blue sky. 
 The other pictures were mainly of artists of the Bolognese 
 school. Chief stands Guido, admirably represented in 
 his Crucifixion, and Piata (which contains his celebrated 
 Matre Dolerosa), as well as in many other works of merit.
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 149 
 
 A Samson was particularly good. We had here our first 
 glimpse of Domenichino in two admirably painted works, 
 but with unfortunately repellant subjects. Lodovico 
 Carracci's Transfiguration was a work of great power, as 
 well as a picture by Guercino, representing two Carthen- 
 ians in the desert worshiping the Virgin. Several other 
 Virgins enthroned were excellent. One by Annibale Car- 
 racci especially attracted me. We were very much interest- 
 ed in pictures of great merit painted by a young woman, a 
 pupil of Guido, Klizabetta Sirani, who died at the age of 
 twenty-six. Her conception of the Magdalen is one of 
 the best we have seen. She is clothed in a sack-cloth 
 garment and gazes tearfully on a crucifix. 
 
 From the gallery we went to the civic museum, in 
 which is stored and admirably arranged a large collection 
 of Etruscan relics which have been recently unearthed. 
 I confess to something of my daughter's contempt for 
 a ' ' museum of dirty dishes, ' ' but regard it as a manifesta- 
 tion of my ignorance. Very interesting, however, was 
 the ancient university building adjoining, now used as 
 a city library. It is a forcible reminder of the time 
 when Bologna gathered ten thousand students and the 
 greatest philosophers of the age. The court was unique 
 and interesting in its being completely covered with the 
 arms of its distinguished professors and students. The 
 hall formerly used for an anatomical demonstration room
 
 ISO CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 was interesting in its quaint ceiling of cedar wood, carved 
 to represent the signs of the Zodiac or, rather, constella- 
 tions. In this room Galvani performed his experiments. 
 In the Church of San Petronio Charles V. was crowned. 
 
 Back to the hotel, dinner, an omnibus ride to the 
 station ; and after waiting an hour for a delayed train we 
 were on our way to Florence. It was so late when 
 we arrived that we went to a hotel instead of our pension 
 and passed a night made uncomfortable by hideous street 
 noises. 
 
 Early Friday morning we sought our Pension Chap- 
 man in the Via Pandolfini, near where Dante was born 
 and Tito found by Bratti. Our hostess proved to be a 
 Salem woman, full of pluck and energy, as lively as a 
 cricket at the age of sixty-eight. Her American break- 
 fasts are a great improvement over the continental roll 
 and coffee. 
 
 The first visit was to the banker's and we learned the 
 horrible news of Beth's fatal accident. It is the first 
 shadow which has crossed our path. Everything seemed 
 changed, and it was some time before I could control myself 
 to go out. We made a day at the Uffizi, of which criti- 
 cisms are reserved until the second visit. Coming back 
 we visited the Loggia dei Lanzi, which has some inter- 
 esting monuments, including one of Judith, in bronze, by 
 Danatello. We also stepped into the court of the Vecchio
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 151 
 
 palace. Its columns were most exquisitely carved. We 
 had only time to prepare for dinner and the evening was 
 spent in reading. Romola is our light reading and it 
 is a charming companion. 
 
 We find here a party of eight young ladies from an 
 Ohio seminary, under the care of a teacher. We enjoy 
 them very much. Saturday morning, by an early start, 
 we got to the Duomo at nine. Of this wonderful 
 Cathedral and accompanying Campanile it is difficult to 
 know what to say. It is safe to affirm that its likeness 
 was never seen elsewhere. Its hugeness is the first 
 thing which strikes the beholder. The immense 
 octagonal dome and the far stretching nave unite in pro- 
 ducing an astounding whole. The variegated color of its 
 exterior produce a bizarre effect not altogether pleasing. 
 Nor does the interior give anything of surpassing inter- 
 est. To me the adjacent Baptistry is more interesting. 
 It, too, has a mosaic exterior. Its interior is impressive. 
 The chief objects to draw the attention are Ghiberti's 
 far-famed doors, which, strict truth requires it to be said, 
 need sapolio. Of the Campanile hardly too much can 
 be said in praise. It is not a church, and no objection 
 exists to making it a museum of the cunning skill of 
 artists. At ten o'clock we went to the Pitti Gallery, and 
 returned through the Uffizi, of which more later. 
 
 Letters at noon brought the news that our darling
 
 152 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Beth, after much suffering, passed away Friday, Octo- 
 ber 2. It is so sudden. As the most in accord with our 
 feelings we took a long drive along the Viale dei Colli. It 
 seemed like a bit of the paradise to which she has gone. 
 The broad road was lined with roses and hedges, and 
 overlooked the city, the distant mountains and the val- 
 ley of the Arno. We passed the fortifications built by 
 Michael Angelo, and the tower in which Galileo made 
 his observations, and the house where he died. 
 
 Sunday, 18 October. 
 
 In the morning we attended the Free Church of 
 Scotland, and heard a vigorous sermon from Dr. Mc- 
 Dougall, in true Scotch style, on what Charles called the 
 geometry of salvation: the nature of saving faith, the 
 object, the exercise, the results. 
 
 Much of the afternoon and evening we spent in 
 writing, but took a long walk to the Old Cemetery, a 
 beautiful spot to leave cherished dust, if left it must be, 
 under a foreign sky. Here we found the tombs of Mrs. 
 Browning and of Arthur Clough. 
 
 Our Monday morning was very rich. Having de- 
 cided to try to get to Rome by Wednesday night, we 
 were obliged to utilize the moments. By half past eight 
 we were on our way to Santa Croce, and having saturated 
 our minds with Ruskin's descriptions were prepared to 
 explore every nook and cranny of this old Franciscan
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 153 
 
 church. The facade is new and of marble, but it is the 
 interior which attracts the student. At first sight one 
 sees only a bare, white-washed, barn-roofed edifice, with 
 numerous tombs skirting the sides. But when one is 
 told that under that white-wash are waiting to be re- 
 vealed some of the most exquisite paintings of Giotto 
 and his followers, he can see what the church once was 
 and what it will be. In several of the minor chapels 
 chemicals have been applied and the ancient pictures in 
 all their beauty shine forth. The most interesting of 
 these to me, Ruskin notwithstanding, was that adorned 
 with scenes from the lives of the two Johns. Yet it 
 must be confessed some of the scenes from the life of St. 
 Francis are, notwithstanding their restoration, of great 
 power and beauty. The tombs which Ruskin reviles 
 cover immortal dust and point to this church as the fut- 
 ure Westminster of Italy. Here are buried Michael An- 
 gelo, Galileo, Alfieri, Macchiavelli, and others of less 
 fame. Dante, too, has here a fine memorial. The tomb 
 over which Ruskin raves was amusing. Yet I do believe 
 his principles are right in spite of the sometimes absurd 
 application of them. 
 
 Next came St. Mark's. The church itself 
 appeared slightly interesting, but the adjoining convent, 
 now suppressed and used as a museum, was full of 
 suggestions. It was here Savonarola lived and
 
 154 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Romola saw her brother die. The frescoes of the clois- 
 ters were interesting, several by Fra Angelico full of deli- 
 cacy of conception and execution. The upper floor, having 
 the cells of the monks, gave us an idea, and the best we 
 have had, of how these old monks lived. The cells were 
 not as forbidding as I had supposed, and being on the 
 second floor were free from that darkness and dampness 
 with which the cells of monks are associated. Each cell 
 had its frescoes, and these were interesting less as works 
 of art than as suggestions of the type of Christianity 
 which was prevalent in that age. Nearly all were repre- 
 sentations of some phase of the passion of our Ix>rd, or 
 were taken from the legendary lives of the saints or of 
 the Virgin. It is a remarkable fact that the works of 
 Christ, any miracle or teaching, are rarely represented 
 in church or convent. He is always represented as a 
 passive sufferer, never as an active man. Query: has 
 our religion run to the opposite extreme ? Savonarola's 
 cells were full of melancholy interest. Here was a frag- 
 ment from the pyre on which he was burned, here his 
 crucifix and hair shirt. Here also was an excellent 
 portrait by Fra Bartolommeo. A hasty run into the 
 Accademia, to see Michael Angelo's David, finished our 
 morning's work. 
 
 After a night of rain, our last morning in Florence 
 opened fair. Again we took an early start, and this time
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 155 
 
 for Santa Maria Novella the Dominican church, as Santa 
 Croce is Franciscan. The frescoes of most interest were 
 those of Ghirlandajo (scenes from the life of Mary and of 
 John Baptist) in the choir. A Madonna of Cimabue in one 
 of the elevated side chapels is famous as the best work of 
 that early artist. What we enjoyed most were the cloisters. 
 Here were two sets, one very large, both elaborately fres- 
 coed. Now the place is used as a military school. The 
 Government has suppressed all monasteries and confis- 
 cated much of their property. Off the first cloisters was 
 the chapel Spagnuoli covered with curious frescoes, and 
 having a fine echo. The Medici chapel of Lorenzo 
 was our next point of attack. The tombs of Lorenzo 
 and Guiliano de' Medici, by Michael Angelo, all un- 
 finished, were of great interest. The figure of Lorenzo, 
 sometimes called II Pensiero, was to me very full of 
 power. The Chapel of the Princes, built as a tomb 
 house for the Medici, on which twenty-two million lire 
 have been expended though it is still unfinished, was a 
 marvel to behold. At first, as a whole, it is not pleasing, 
 owing to the combination of colors in the marbles with 
 which it is walled ; but an examination of the marbles 
 and precious stones reveals their great beauty. No less 
 than eighteen different varieties are used, and some speci- 
 mens, as of the serpentine and petrified woods, are very 
 beautiful. The library, the great Laurenzian library,
 
 156 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 once the property of the Medici, containing ten thousand 
 manuscript volumes, was extremely interesting as show- 
 ing the type of libraries in the days before books were 
 the possession of the people. All these volumes were 
 chained to the desks on which they were placed. 
 
 The afternoon I stayed in and wrote and rested, and 
 the morning of Wednesday we left at eight thirty-five 
 for Rome. 
 
 The ride was pleasant. So far I find it hard to get 
 into the spirit of these historic spots. I have to pinch 
 myself to realize that I am on the plains which Hannibal 
 crossed, and not on an Iowa prairie. To approach Rome 
 in the steam cars, and to be met by the commonplace 
 porters and drivers, all this made the place seem a vulgar, 
 modern city. And like a modern city does it seem on 
 first appearance. The Via Nazionale, on which our pen- 
 sion is situated, might be in Detroit for all signs seen of 
 ancient life. But on almost every corner one stumbles 
 on some signs of ancient or mediaeval Rome, and it is 
 with these remains and with the treasures of art that we 
 are chiefly concerned. 
 
 Rome, 25 October. 
 
 We have now been three days in Rome. We have 
 not felt in the best of trim physically. Our first point 
 was St. Peter's. We spent Thursday morning there and 
 saw it only long enough to be overwhelmed, and not long
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 157 
 
 enough for distinct impressions. We climbed to the 
 roof, which is a village in itself. One afternoon was 
 spent in a drive which included the Pincian Hill, the 
 Corso, the Trajan Forum and the Roman, the Coliseum, 
 the Ghetto, the Theatre of Marcellus, and the Cenci Palace. 
 Friday morning we visited the Sistine Chapel and saw 
 the pictures and frescoes of the Vatican, of which more 
 hereafter. 
 
 Saturday morning we started out at nine and visited 
 two churches, that of S. Pietro in Vincoli and Maria 
 Maggiore. The first is notable for its statue of Moses, 
 by Michael Angelo, part of a tomb intended for Julius II. 
 It seems to me I never have seen marble so instinct with 
 life. I looked at that figure, full of the righteous wrath 
 of a just man against sin, until it seemed to me he must 
 spring to his feet. The other church, containing no 
 great monument, is yet in itself a monument. Incor- 
 porated into a more modern edifice are the remains of one 
 of the oldest Christian churches, dating from the fifth 
 century. The church itself is not to be despised as mod- 
 ern, for it antedates most other churches. It is modeled 
 after the basilica, although small arches divide its beau- 
 tiful white marble columns. The interior is impressive 
 from its grandeur, and the Sistine Chapel in the right 
 transept from the sumptuousness of its adornment. 
 We descended to the crypt which contains the re-
 
 158 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 mains of the ancient church, among which was a marble 
 group representing the Adoration, which dates from the 
 fourth century. The mosaics which form a fringe about 
 the columns of the church are of exquisite workmanship, 
 and it was with great regret we left the church half 
 seen. 
 
 The Capitoline Museum was our next point. Here 
 I had it impressed upon me how incapable plaster is of 
 reproducing marble. Many times as I have seen casts of 
 the dying gladiator, I have never seen anything of the 
 power of this work. One could look at it for hours, and 
 all the time the heart is bleeding in sympathy for the 
 noble, proud spirit here biting the dust. The Faun of 
 Praxiteles, the Venus of the Capitol, the Antinous, 
 appealed to me as the best, as they are the most famous, 
 of the sculptures here deposited. The Palace of the 
 Conservatori, opposite the Museum, contains a 
 greater variety of Roman remains. Its tablets, 
 its bronzes, its statues, its inscriptions, all made 
 ancient Rome seem real indeed. The magnificent 
 reliefs, formerly in an arch dedicated to Marcus Au- 
 relius, the bronze wolf of the Capitol, the bronze boy 
 extracting a thorn, interested me most. Among the 
 pictures in the gallery were many so pleasing that they 
 would have justified a much longer stay than we gave. 
 The frescoes of Spagna, representing Apollo and the
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 159 
 
 Muses, were pleasing. A Madonna of Francia was very 
 attractive. Two excellent Van Dykes, miserably placed, 
 look out amid the darkness. An unfinished Guido and 
 his St. Sebastian appeal to one. An enormous picture 
 by Guercino, St. Petronella, is striking, although it did 
 not stir me as some scenes do. 
 
 The afternoon of Saturday was full of absorbing and 
 melancholy interest. In it we rode out through the gate 
 which looks toward Ostia, to the reputed scene of Paul's 
 final triumph. We rode by the gate, leaving the Protest- 
 ant cemetery on our right guarded by the sombre pyramid 
 which marks the tomb of Caius Cestius, and which cast 
 its shadow upon the great Apostle as he entered upon 
 his last journey. A more melancholy, dismal, drear 
 place than this deserted Roman campagna is seldom seen. 
 It can hardly be merely its associations and the memories 
 of what it once was that cast so dreary a shade over its 
 face. Scarcely a human habitation breaks the mile and a 
 half which lies between the gate and the presumed 
 site of Paul's grave. Half way out is a little chapel, 
 said to mark the place where Paul and Peter parted when 
 on their way to execution. The Church of St. Paul is 
 very disappointing as one approaches. It might well pass 
 for a railroad station. But once inside one is overcome 
 by its simple grandeur. It is in the form of the basilica, 
 and for the first time I felt how this form of architecture
 
 160 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 may be inspiring and uplifting in its strength and purity. 
 The roof of the nave and aisles is supported by four rows 
 of twenty-one pillars of the finest Corinthian order. 
 Their polished granite surfaces reflect the glory of the 
 place and the marble of the wainscot ting as well. 
 Above the pillars run as a frieze the portraits of the 
 Popes, in rich mosaic, and, still above, frescoes represent 
 scenes in the life of the Apostle. The pillars sup- 
 porting the altar roof are of exquisite oriental alabaster, 
 as beautiful as a gem. The roof, heavily gilded, seems 
 a little oppressive, and detracts from the upward lift of 
 the sanctuary. The cloisters, with their delicate tints 
 and carved columns, form an exquisite bit of architecture, 
 but are evidently in a state of neglect. 
 
 A mile and a half beyond, at the traditional place of 
 the execution of Paul, are three churches. The first, St. 
 Mary of the Ladder, (Scala Caeli), has very little interest 
 beyond a few ancient and exquisite mosaics. The second, 
 which marks the suppositious site of the execution, is 
 elaborately adorned with marble and with a fine mosiac 
 floor. The marble block upon which Paul suffered was 
 shown to us by a very pleasant monk, one of the forty 
 Benedictines who reside in the adjoining monastery! The 
 spot is called Tre Fontane, from the legend that three 
 fountains sprang from the earth at three spots touched by 
 the head of St. Paul. There is something pitiable in the
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 161 
 
 way the Roman Church has overlaid the truth of Chris- 
 tian history with puerile fables. It seems as though the 
 simple truths of our blessed gospel were grand enough 
 without smothering them in the wrapping of such sense- 
 less traditions. I sometimes long for a second set of the 
 epistles of Paul. 
 
 Our Sunday was quietly spent. In the morning we 
 went to the Scotch church, where about ten worshipers 
 gathered. It takes very poor preaching to spoil the 
 gospel, but that poor preacher almost did it. 
 
 Monday we made a full day, starting as soon as pos- 
 sible after breakfast for the Borghese Gallery, a gallery 
 said to be the best private collection of pictures in the 
 world. All the pictures in Italy suffer for the want of 
 being well hung, but we provided ourselves with opera 
 glasses to-day, and were determined not to lose more 
 than was necessary. The most famous paintings in this 
 gallery are, perhaps, the Danae, of Correggio, and the Sa- 
 cred and Profane lyove, of Titian. The pictures I find 
 lingering in my memory are St. Stanislaus and the in- 
 fant Christ by Ribera, a Madonna by Francia, and a 
 Crucifixion by Van Dyke. 
 
 We had time enough to drive to the Corsini palace. 
 Although the collection is inferior in number and reputa- 
 tion to the Borghese Gallery, we yet found many works 
 to interest. Among the pictures Murillo's Madonna
 
 162 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 is "facile princeps." Carlo Dolce' s Madonna seemed 
 to us one of his best works. Guercino's St. Jerome, 
 his Ecce Homo, and Guido Reni's Herodias, are 
 among the best of the collection. The afternoon 
 we gave to churches. First we took Gesu, the 
 Church of the Jesuits. It is the most elaborately adorned 
 church we have yet seen. It did not attract me. 
 Still, to stand by the ashes of Loyola was something. 
 The altar over his grave is sumptuous in the extreme. 
 The pillars supporting the cover to the altar are of lapis 
 lazuli, and a ball of the same stone surmounting the 
 whole could be hardly less than three feet in diameter. 
 The Church of Maria in Aracoelion the Capitol Hill, 
 was our next point. Each church seems to surpass all 
 others in gorgeousness in some respect. Here it was the roof, 
 so rich, so grand, so gorgeous in its gilt that the rest of 
 the modest little church was quite put to shame. It is 
 at this church that the wonderful Bambino is kept, and 
 from here he proceeds in solemn state to the houses of the 
 sick where his miraculous cures are made. We peti- 
 tioned to see him, and were solemnly conducted into one 
 of the chapels of the sacristy. The priest, who I sup- 
 pose was Bambino's own servant, drew back the 
 doors of a manger and showed a white and gilt casket, 
 which, being unlocked and opened, revealed upon its 
 white satin tufting a bundle covered with rich swaddling
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 163 
 
 clothes. The priest then invited us to kneel and make a 
 prayer to the image, but we were excused upon explaining 
 that we were Protestants. Whereupon he fell upon his 
 knees and uttered a prayer, ending by kissing the feet of 
 the baby. When the Bambino was unswathed a wooden 
 doll by no means ugly was exposed, appareled in the 
 richest garments covered with all kinds of jewels which 
 had been presented by those whom he had blessed. 
 Strange, strange sight ! It may differ from idolatry, but 
 we could not see the difference. The signs of Mariolatry 
 are here very noticeable. I read a prayer in this 
 church largely made up of ascriptions to the Virgin, to 
 whom the prayer was addressed. She was called mother 
 and daughter of God, bride of the Holy Spirit, etc. 
 
 We next drove to St. Clement, interesting for its 
 age. Here a Christian church of the ninth century rests 
 upon an earlier one of the fourth century, which in turn 
 was built upon the ruins of a pagan temple. To the first 
 we descended. To the second, which has been excavat- 
 ed, one can not go on account of the water. The early 
 frescoes which we there found were interesting and not 
 without some artistic merit. Some of the pillars were 
 very beautiful, a few of them being taken from the pa- 
 gan temple.
 
 164 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Tuesday, 27 October. 
 
 A glorious morning soon clouded into rain. We 
 started early for the Catacomb of St. Agnes, about a 
 mile beyond the wall by the Porta Pia, through which 
 Victor Emanuel entered the city. This gate, built by 
 and bearing the name of Pius VI. , now bears an inscrip- 
 tion to the memory of those soldiers who fell for the 
 unity of their fatherland. Poor Pope ! I don't wonder 
 he shuts himself up in the Vatican, sole remnant of his 
 once universal power. We descended forty-five 
 steps to the Church of St. Agnes, an ancient basilica, 
 having little of interest save some mosaics of the ninth 
 century in the tribune. We had provided ourselves with 
 candles, and followed our guide down into an apparently 
 dark cellar by a double flight of steps. Unfortunately 
 he spoke neither French nor English, but most of his 
 Italian we could understand. This catacomb is well exca- 
 vated and well preserved. Through a labyrinth of nar- 
 row passes we wandered, on each side of us being the tiers 
 of walled-up graves, or, rather, of tombs. Many of these 
 were undisturbed, and were sealed, some with marble, 
 some with terra cotta, some with stone. The inscrip- 
 tions on many could be plainly read. For the most part 
 they were simple, only giving name and date with some 
 expression of Christian faith. The words ' ' in pace, ' ' 
 "victoria in pace" were common, but most frequent was
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 165 
 
 the cross or some symbol, as an olive leaf or a dove. In 
 some of the graves which had been opened were gathered 
 vases and lamps and other articles, some of which, I 
 judged, had been interred with the body. Occasionally 
 a cup was found, and this signified the tomb of a martyr, 
 the cup having held his blood. The little chapel we 
 were shown was destitute of adornment, and so small 
 that it hardly seems possible that Christians could have 
 met here for worship. It is a more probable hypothesis 
 that this served as a funeral chapel. 
 
 From the Catacombs we drove to the Villa Albani, 
 now owned by Prince Torlonia. This held at the begin- 
 ning of the century one of the finest collections of Ro- 
 man remains, but it was rifled of its gems by that arch 
 fiend, Napoleon, and few were ever restored. A bronze 
 statue of Apollo, a relief of Antinous, a wonderful thing, 
 and another of the parting of Orpheus and Eurydice, 
 were well worth seeing. The villa itself and its ruins 
 were charming, and gave us an excellent idea of Roman 
 country life. The Palazzo Doria was the next point of 
 attack. Here we found many pictures of a high order of 
 merit, for the most part portraits. It is not in many 
 galleries that in one sweep of the eye one can take in a 
 Rubens, a Titian, a Tintoretto, a Holbein and a Raphael. 
 On the same wall also hung a Van Dyke, a Valasquez 
 and a Piombo. Without exception we have found the
 
 166 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 best Velasquez, Piombo and Quentin Matsys which we 
 have seen. In fact I never got at Matsys' powtr until I 
 saw here The Money Changers. 
 
 So full a morning made me willing to stay in during the 
 afternoon. The hours in doors can always be profitably 
 devoted to reading and writing. Wednesday morning I 
 was prepared for another tramp, and we started early for 
 the Sculpture Gallery of the Vatican. Without excep- 
 tion this gallery ranks the highest of any we have seen 
 or are likely to see. Its famous pieces are the 
 Apollo Belvedere, the L,aocoon, the Mercury, the 
 Crouching Venus, the Torso of Hercules, and the 
 Perseus of Canova. But these are by no means all its 
 treasures. Many pieces of less note and more recently 
 unearthed well repay study. I was again greatly struck 
 with the fact that casts give no idea of the power of the 
 marble. We went again to the Sistine Chapel, where 
 we got an excellent light on Michael Angelo's stupen- 
 dous work. The library was interesting, although at 
 first sight it appeared like Hamlet with Hamlet left out, 
 for no books were visible. Many gifts and relics were 
 shown, among which were the very ugly baptismal font 
 used in the baptism of the Prince Imperial of France, 
 and some magnificent vases of Sevres china presented by 
 different potentates. I had the great joy of beholding 
 the precious Vatican manuscript of the Bible with my 
 own eyes, but alas, it was not open to I. Tim. iii. 16!
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 167 
 
 The afternoon was quite as full as the morning. We 
 took a carriage for a ride along the Appian Way as far 
 as Porta Sebastiano, and under the Arch of Drusus, 
 beneath which Paul passed in entering Rome. The 
 tombs of the Scipios and the Columbaria lay on our route. 
 Returning we stopped a little while to explore the Baths 
 of Caracalla, a vast pile of ruins with few reminiscences 
 of their ancient glories, save their vast size and some 
 remnants of the mosaic pavement. Coming up to the 
 Coliseum, we roamed for an hour about its vast and 
 awful ruins. The Forum we spent some time in study- 
 ing. Some way we have not yet got into the spirit of 
 Rome. We see the spot where Caesar lay in state, where 
 Virginia was killed, where Curtius took his fatal leap, 
 and yet neither is the blood stirred nor the brain fired. 
 
 ROME, Friday, 30 October. 
 
 In the morning we visited the Church of St. Gio- 
 vanni in L,aterano, and the I^ateran Museum connected 
 with it. This church is the Arch- Episcopal church, the 
 mother and head of all the churches, ranking before St. 
 Peter's. Here the Pope is crowned. The church itself 
 was undergoing some repairs, and we did not see it so 
 thoroughly as we should have liked. It is a fine basilica, 
 but has been a good deal injured by injudicious altera- 
 tions and decorations, and does not compare with St. Ma-
 
 i68 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 ria Maggiore in impressiveness. Two of the private side 
 chapels, those of the Torlonia and Corsini families, were 
 very beautiful. The former was an exquisite combina- 
 tion of white and gold. 
 
 The Baptistry gains interest from its great age and 
 its reputed foundation by Constantine. Its architectural 
 form has furnished the model for the greater number of 
 the round baptistries in Italy. The museums are divided 
 into Profano and Christiano, and were each interesting. 
 We spent some time in deciphering inscriptions from the 
 catacombs. The Museo Profano contains many ex- 
 quisite remains of Roman art which have been unearthed 
 in various places near Rome. Among them was a relief 
 representing the funeral of a lady of rank. 
 
 In the afternoon I went to the Capuchin Church, 
 and saw the picture of the Archangel by Guido, and vis- 
 ited that ghastly valley of dry bones, the cemetery. 
 How a Christian mind could have conceived of anything 
 so heathenish I do not know. We also visited some 
 shops, where I squandered some of my patrimony. Fri- 
 day morning Miss Randolph and I went out to look at 
 photographs. In the afternoon I rode to St. Stefano 
 Rotondo. Oh, the horrors of the pictured martyrdoms ! 
 I then went to the Palazzo Barberini, where I looked 
 upon the haunting picture of Beatrici Cenci. Rome 
 bristles with horrors. I love my own dear country. It
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 169 
 
 is so free from the atrocities in which these lands are 
 soaked. 
 
 Saturday morning we went to Palazzo Rospigliosi 
 to see Guido's Aurora. Wonderful ! Nowhere before 
 have we seen painted such life and motion and such 
 poetic motion. It is the onward dance which Byron de- 
 scribes, chasing the hours with flying feet. Next to the 
 Sistine Madonna, and in a different way, it is the most 
 attractive picture I have seen. St. Pietro in Montorio 
 was our next objective point. A glorious view, frescoes 
 said to be by Piombo from Michael Angelo's 
 drawings, and a sight of the traditional spot of 
 Peter's execution rewarded us. We stepped into 
 St. Lorenzo in L,ucina for the sight of a 
 Guido's Crucifixion, hardly as fine as that at Bologna, 
 and then I came home and Charles went to Barberini. 
 In the afternoon we went to the engraving establishment 
 and saw our engravings packed. 
 
 MILAN, 10 November. 
 
 PARIS, 15 November. 
 
 Rome is behind us and so far I do not regret it. I have 
 felt so far from vigorous most of the time that sight see- 
 ing has been a burden. Nevertheless I dropped a penny 
 into the fountain of Trevi, and I hope to come again with 
 my daughter. We left Rome for Pisa at half past nine 
 Monday morning. The journey to Pisa was through a
 
 170 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 flat, uninteresting country, made interesting only by the 
 glimpses it gave of the Mediterranean and Elba. The 
 city itself seemed not unlike Florence, situated as it is 
 on both banks of the Arno. An early bed and an early 
 rise, in order that we might get the nine forty-five train 
 for Milan, was the programme. The group of fine build- 
 ings which stand on the borders of the city, and include 
 the Duomo, the Campanile, the Leaning Tower, and the 
 Baptistry and Campo Santo, is perhaps the finest group 
 of buildings we have seen anywhere. The Duomo, 
 Baptistry and Campanile at Florence hardly present so 
 striking an appearance. The Baptistry is a marvel of 
 elegant designs and proportions. Inside it is remarkable 
 for a fine specimen of the work of Nicholas Pisano. 
 The echo is something wonderful in its way, and as I 
 have never outgrown my childish liking for echoes, I 
 made the sacristan exhaust his vocal powers. The inside 
 of the Cathedral presents a type of Italian Gothic, a 
 kind of union of the basilica with the Gothic which we 
 had not before seen. Here is the hanging lamp watched 
 by Galileo. 
 
 The Leaning Tower looks like all its pictures. It is a 
 wonder. We did not ascend. The interior of the Campo 
 Santo is in appearance like the cloisters of a monastery, 
 but is a peculiarly delicate Gothic. We drove hastily 
 back to the station through a pouring rain, and took the
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 171 
 
 train for Milan. The route to Genoa was charming. 
 Most of the way it bordered the Mediterranean, often 
 tunneling its way through rocks in order to make its 
 passage. The glimpses of the sea through these rocks 
 were charming. 
 
 At Genoa all we could do was to think of Christo- 
 pher Columbus of blessed memory. We puzzled our- 
 selves with the problem of where we should have been 
 if that saint had never been born. It grew dark soon, 
 and our ride through Lombardy to Milan had only the 
 weariness of the final part of a long journey. At Milan 
 we found our way by means of an omnibus to the Hotel 
 Pozzo, a cheerless kind of a place with a shut-up smell, 
 which made me anxious to make our stay in Milan as 
 short as possible. This we did by working hard on 
 Wednesday. Our first drive was to the banker's, where 
 voluminous mail reached us, including very nice letters 
 from Mary. We then drove to the Brera. This gallery 
 is finely arranged and lighted, but, though a cold day, 
 it was unwarmed. We therefore did not stay to examine 
 the pictures in detail, but only the masterpieces. The 
 pride of the Brera is Raphael's Marriage of the Virgin. 
 The picture did not impress me, although it would be 
 easy to catalogue its merits. A picture which interested 
 me more was a study of the head of Christ, by Leonardo, 
 for his Last Supper. I think that divinity shines in this
 
 172 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 face more strongly than any representation of Christ I 
 have ever seen. The gallery introduced us to several 
 new artists. Bernardino Luini is perhaps the best of them. 
 Two fine Veroneses are also here. But the way in 
 which we saw the gallery was unsatisfactory. Leaving 
 it, we walked back through the beautiful arcade 
 of Victor Emanuel to the Duomo the wonderful Duomo. 
 It is magnificently placed, and stands as a constant in- 
 spiration to holy thoughts and desires. But the truth 
 must be told. It is dingy. The spires and dainty work, 
 which must have looked like frost work when fresh from 
 the artist's hands, show too clearly how long they have 
 mingled with earth. The interior is grand, and caused 
 us to exclaim again: "The Gothic is the only archi- 
 tecture for a Christian church." Unfortunately the in- 
 terior was much disfigured by the trumpery pictures and 
 decorations, but the windows are glorious. Taking 
 a carriage at the Piazzo Duomo we drove to the Church 
 of Maria delle Grazie, in the refectory of whose monas- 
 tery is all that remains of Leonardo Da Vinci's Last 
 Supper. Here, as all over Europe, Napoleon's cloven 
 hoof is seen. His soldiers, here quartered, amused them- 
 selves by disfiguring this magnificent work. It is de- 
 faced beyond all hope of restoration, but so long as one 
 line is left its genius will survive. Some excellent cop- 
 ies were in the room. Going back to the banker's we
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 173 
 
 found yet more mail, and we then rode to see 
 some drawings of Leonardo and of Raphael. Those 
 of the latter artist for his School of Athens, and 
 some other frescoes were especially interesting. Walk- 
 ing back to the Duomo we stopped to engage our passage 
 for Basle, and then went to buy photographs. We got 
 back to the hotel for a late dinner and an early bed. 
 
 The early bed was the prelude to an early rise, for 
 half -past five saw us on our feet, and at half past seven 
 we were speeding toward Basle in a fine compartment 
 car, of which we were the sole occupants. A journey so 
 delightful as that of the i2th November, 1885, from 
 Milan to Basle, by St. Gothard, I never experienced. 
 Everything conspired to make it so, the finest of weather 
 without and the most comfortable of cars within, and 
 over the glorious Alps. We pierced mountains and we 
 scaled mountains, we dashed over precipices and around 
 precipices, and yet over more mountains higher and 
 precipices more steep. Night did not settle upon us un- 
 til, having passed Tell's home and Arth Goldau, we 
 reached Lucerne. Even then the light was sufficient to 
 show to us Hotel St. Gothard, which we had not ex- 
 pected to see again this year. At Basle we walked from the 
 station to a near hotel, and found a comfortable resting 
 place for the night. At quarter to nine we were on our 
 way to Paris, on what I think was the fastest train I ever
 
 174 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 traveled on for any length of time. We made hardly 
 six stops, and between six and seven o'clock were in 
 Paris. The country was flat and uninteresting. The 
 soil seemed poorer than I expected to find. The houses 
 were few, the population here as in other parts of the 
 continent being gathered into towns. 
 
 We went to a small hotel, Brittanique, for the night. 
 It was gloomy enough. The weather was as cold as at 
 home, and we were almost homesick in gay Paris. But 
 daylight put a brighter aspect on things. Our first care 
 was to look for permanent lodgings and to get our mail. 
 We decided on Hotel de la Tamise, a quiet little place on 
 Rue d'Alger, opposite the Tuileries Gardens. We have 
 a cozy room and are most centrally located. The first after- 
 noon we spent in wandering about the wonderful streets. 
 The magnificence of this city is patent to the most super- 
 ficial observer. Its broad streets and boulevards, its 
 parks and squares, its palaces and magnificent public 
 buildings, combine to form a scene of unparalleled splen- 
 dor. Our first Sunday in Paris passed much as all our 
 continental Sabbaths have passed. In the morning we 
 went to the American Church, of which Dr. A. F. Beard is 
 pastor. The edifice is really very pretty, and the congrega- 
 tion the largest and best looking, I think, we have seen. 
 
 Tuesday we began our work, systematic work, in 
 earnest. We spent the morning in the Louvre, going
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 175 
 
 through the sculpture galleries and making a beginning 
 on the pictures. It is by far the best single gallery we 
 have visited. In the afternoon we went to the Made- 
 leine, a true Corinthian Greek temple. It is massive and 
 impressive without, but it is not a church. The interior is 
 gloomy, being lighted only from above. It is sombre 
 and heavy, and has none of the litheness and spring 
 which belong to a church. Over its doors, as over the 
 doors of all the public buildings in this city, are those 
 magic words, dear to the heart of the French Revolution- 
 ist, " Liberte, equalit,fraternit.' > ' They seem used as a 
 magic charm. We wandered about the streets and bou- 
 levards after the gas was lighted. The streets are bril- 
 liant and gay, crowded beyond compare. We came down 
 the Rue Roy ale to the Place de la Concorde, and stood 
 watching the tide of life, the innumerable lights, and the 
 general brilliancy. It was a good place to stand to see 
 the present. It was a good place to stand to reflect upon 
 the past. It all seemed like a story of blood and rapine, 
 of ungoverned passions and unholy vengeance. What 
 iniquities have these streets not seen ! One realizes here 
 the enormities which the history of France unfolds. 
 Paris holds the larger part of them. 
 
 Wednesday morning found us again at the L,ouvre. 
 The pictures are glorious. It is decidedly the most rep- 
 resentative gallery we have seen. In it are found mas-
 
 176 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 terpieces of all the great masters. Its Murillos are the 
 finest we have seen, and confirm my strong predilection 
 for that artist. His Conception ranks, I believe, next to 
 the Sistine Madonna. Indeed, in coloring and in the fe- 
 licity of its conception, it is its superior. Murillo never 
 puts in the lay figures of the saints, which so mar the 
 ideal perfection of so many religious fancies. Titian is 
 represented by many excellent works of a motif as differ- 
 ent as the Entombment and Jupiter and Antigone. They 
 all have deepened my judgment that Titian was inca- 
 pable of so apprehending spiritual truth as to put it upon 
 canvas. Two of the finest Correggios we have seen are 
 those of Venus and the Satyr and the Marriage of St. 
 Catharine. The only L,eonardo of any interest to me, 
 save his Last Supper, we find here. The Raphaels, 
 though numerous, add very little to the impression he 
 has already made upon me. I cannot regard him as al- 
 ways a pleasing artist. His contrasts are too violent. 
 His Madonnas seem to me to have very little character. 
 Rubens and Rubens' Wives are here. There is a coarse- 
 ness about many of his figures which grows upon me 
 after I have studied Italian art. His Triumph of Relig- 
 ion is a spirited piece, however. 
 
 In the afternoon we went over to the Island to visit 
 the Notre Dame Cathedral. On the way we passed the 
 beautiful Tower St. Jacques and the magnificent Hotel
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 177 
 
 de Ville. The squares and public buildings are so grand. 
 The church was not disappointing. Architecturally it is 
 full of interest. Its rows of massive pillars and the ex- 
 quisitely decorated chapels behind the choir made this 
 church to us unique. But it was cold and dark, with 
 few signs of worship. Churches do not seem to be fre- 
 quented here by worshipers as in Italy. We walked 
 round the Palais de Justice and the statue of Charle- 
 magne and back to the hotel, after searching shops and 
 shop windows for beautiful dolls for our daughter. 
 
 In the evening we went to one of the meetings of 
 the McCall Mission. I^ord Radstock spoke, and gave a 
 clear, comprehensive gospel talk. I was pleased to find 
 I could understand every word. It was quite novel to 
 sing " Moody and Sankey " in French. But in French or 
 English the old story is the same. We really seem to 
 see more signs of evangelical earnestness than in any 
 city since leaving London. 
 
 Thursday morning we visited the Pantheon. It is a 
 massive building with a dome which seems to lift the 
 whole pile upwards. The interior is in the form of a 
 Greek cross and in the Corinthian style. The walls are 
 decorated with scenes from the lives of the saints, but 
 the art calls for no special mention. It seemed to me 
 that the Revolutionists who set this building apart to the 
 memory of great men interpreted the significance of its
 
 iy8 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 architecture more truly than those who consecrated it as 
 a church. In the crypt, an extensive underground cav- 
 ern, rests Victor Hugo. His tomb is covered with the 
 memorials of friends, and wreaths are literally 
 stacked in the church. In this crypt Voltaire and Rous- 
 seau lay until some persons in a fit of paltry vengeance 
 flung their bodies out. The echo through these cavern- 
 ous arches is the most remarkable I ever heard. It dis- 
 tinctly articulates words. 
 
 Friday morning we made a visit to the Place de la 
 Bastille, the site of the old prison. There is nothing to 
 remind one of the horrois of that horrid fortress. The 
 situation is partly covered by shops, and in the centre of 
 the Place a beautiful bronze column rises to commem- 
 orate the patriots who fell in the Revolution of 1830. 
 These columns, which are erected in various places, are 
 very handsome. That of the Place Vendome, in imita- 
 tion of the Trajan column in Rome, is a magnificent af- 
 fair of its kind. From the Bastille we rode around to 
 the Madeleine through some of the finest boulevards, 
 past the Portes St. Denis and St. Martin. The afternoon 
 we devoted to an excursion to St. Denis. The ride was 
 uninteresting, but the church would have repaid a 
 much longer ride. This church has been for twelve 
 hundred years the state church. Here the monarchs 
 from Dagobert I. to Louis XVIII. have found a final
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 179 
 
 resting place, and from the church their bones were 
 taken and cast, by that hellish Revolutionary mob, into 
 a common grave. By a strange revolution L,ouis XVI. 
 and the unfortunate Marie Antoinette now repose in the 
 despoiled vaults. The church is a very fine example of 
 the transition from the Norman to the Gothic. Without 
 but few marks of the Gothic are to be seen, but within 
 the pointed arch is found in all its beauty. The stone of 
 the interior is very pure, the windows, though of unfit- 
 ting subjects, are rich and very numerous. The choir is 
 raised, a novel feature. 
 
 Our evenings we spend in reading and planning our 
 future work. I have been reading a short history of 
 France, Hammerton's Round my House, and Dickens' 
 Tale of Two Cities. I had forgotten how powerful a book 
 this last is. Reading has almost made me fear to go to 
 bed, and I find myself looking for Madame Defarge and 
 her knitting. 
 
 Saturday morning we went to Pere la Chaise. It 
 did not appeal to us as a very beautiful city of the dead. 
 We found the graves of Heloise and Abelard still strewed 
 with fresh flowers. The French have a custom of highly 
 decorating the graves of their friends with the most 
 hideous wreaths of beads, dried flowers and tissue paper. 
 The effect to our eyes is in execrable taste. Many of 
 the distinguished dead of France lie here. The graves 
 of Musset, of Thiers, of Perier we visited.
 
 i8o CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 The afternoon took us to the Louvre to see the cabi- 
 net of drawings. Many of those by Raphael, Michael 
 Angelo and Leonardo were of great interest. We lingered 
 longest, however, in the rooms of the modern French art. 
 Delaroche, Delacroix, Ary Scheffer and Ingres were 
 the principal artists. In many ways the most striking 
 picture we saw was one Victor Giraud, The Slave 
 Dealer. It represented an eastern voluptuary sur- 
 veying a shrinking Circassian. Two pictures of Dela- 
 roche, The Death of Queen Elizabeth, and The Sons of 
 Edward IV. in Prison, were full of life and character. 
 Scheffer' s Temptation of Christ exaggerates all the de- 
 fects of that artist. All of Ingres' were cold and dead. 
 Troyon had two magnificent landscapes. 
 
 Sundays in Paris are a little more satisfactory than in 
 some places. We seem to be within reach of decidedly 
 Christian influences. In the afternoon we went to hear 
 Pere Hyacinthe. A magnificent sermon he preached. 
 I was able to understand nearly every word, 
 and was so borne away by the effort of listen- 
 ing and the excitement that I found myself 
 quite exhausted. The subject was the separation 
 in the future life between the good and the evil. He 
 ranged himself on the side of Origen, and advanced the 
 theory of punishment, of expiation, and final restoration. 
 He used Scripture with great skill. His text was from
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 181 
 
 Peter, Christ preaching to the spirits in hell, but the pas- 
 sage he used with greatest power was from Revelation : 
 " I am Alpha, etc., I hold the keys of death and of hell." 
 Hell and its subjects are given to Christ. His apostrophe 
 to Jesus was full of tender eloquence. The church itself 
 seemed a kind of betwixt and between. Things were 
 badly managed. One small boy seemed the chief func- 
 tionary, and he attended to lighting the church and lead- 
 ing the choir, besides managing other affairs. The 
 church building was small and bare, yet filled to its ut- 
 most capacity. The service began with the Lord's prayer 
 and Apostles' creed, and resembled the English service, but 
 was much shorter. The censer was swung and the holy 
 water was at the door. Hyacinthe resembles Mr. Beecher 
 very much. I have a suspicion that, like him, he may 
 be a poor and unsafe leader. Certain it is, his movement 
 is not growing as it was hoped. 
 
 PARIS, Monday, 23 November. 
 Our morning was spent in rather futile attempts to 
 do a great many things we couldn't. We went to the 
 Jardin des Plantes, where everything was closed, and 
 then came up to the Palais de Justice. We tried to get 
 into the Conciergerie, and found that a more difficult mat- 
 ter than in 1792. It was not open. But we wan- 
 dered about the Palais de Justice to our hearts' content.
 
 182 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 One hall is really very fine, the Salle des Pas-Perdus. 
 The court rooms were numerous and small. The barris- 
 ters who were to be seen promenading the halls in their 
 robes and caps were a fine looking body of men. The 
 remainder of the morning we spent in buying our daugh- 
 ter's doll. It, as everything in Paris, seemed dear, but 
 none too dear for such a daughter. When we arrived 
 home we found we had been honored by a call from Hon. 
 R. M. McLane, Envoy Extraordinary, etc. One thing 
 has surprised us in Paris. We find less courtesy here 
 among all classes with whom we come in contact than in 
 any other country. I find my French serves all pur- 
 poses, although I feel I have a vantage ground when I 
 can shop in lingua vernacula. 
 
 Tuesday morning was chilly. We took a ride in 
 the Bois de Boulogne in the morning. The park is per- 
 fectly delightful, and was full of gay riders. One of the 
 prettiest sights I ever saw was a mother having with her 
 three golden-haired daughters on prancing steeds. The 
 mother rode magnificently. In the afternoon we went 
 to the Palais Luxembourg, but here we were balked, as it 
 was closed for repairs. We spent a few hours pleasantly 
 at the Jardin des Plantes. Things struck us as a little 
 helter-skelter, and hardly well cared for. The Zoolog- 
 ical Gardens do not compare with those of London or Ber- 
 lin. The museum was of chief interest from an ethnologi-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING, 183 
 
 cal point of view. The collection included types of every 
 known race of men. The conservatories were not spe- 
 cially interesting. 
 
 The days are so short here that it is really difficult 
 to make a full day. Wednesday was quite rainy, and I 
 only went out once. In the morning we went to the 
 L,ouvre, and spent two hours among the bronzes, draw- 
 ings, Egyptian and Greek antiquities and articles of 
 vertu. The sight of the snuff boxes was enough to bring 
 tears to the eyes, even though they had been long inno- 
 cent of snuff. Some of the antiquities were wonderfully 
 fine. Some of the drawings by the great artists were full 
 of interest. The exuberance of Titian's fancy is seen in 
 his drawings even more than in his paintings. 
 
 From the L,ouvre we went out, by the way the Empress 
 escaped, to the church of St. Germain 1'Auxerrois. It is 
 a handsome Gothic church, but it is plain that the best 
 life of the French has not gone into the churches, as in 
 Italy. We next walked along the quay, and took an om- 
 nibus for the Gobelins tapestry works. We found these 
 very interesting, both in the exhibition and in the manu- 
 factory. The process was much slower than I had sup- 
 posed. Six square inches is a day's work. The velvet 
 carpets here made by hand, though laboriously wrought, 
 hardly seem to be superior in appearance to similar 
 carpets of machine workmanship. It was three when we
 
 184 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 returned home, and thus our day's work out of doors was 
 finished. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day. 
 
 Not very much like our customary day of 
 Thanksgiving! In the first place the rain poured, 
 an unusual occurrence, and in the next place 
 we had neither turkey nor cranberry sauce. But we 
 did go to church and listened for an hour while the good 
 minister tried to prove (beginning with Adam) that we 
 are living in the best days of the world. As if we had 
 not realized that every day since we left home. From 
 the church we took a carriage and rode to the Prefecture 
 of Police, where we got permission to visit the Con- 
 ciergerie. Few buildings are so full of melancholy in- 
 terest. The narrow cell in which the unhappy Queen 
 was confined still holds the chair in which she sat and 
 the cross before which she prayed. It was not a dun- 
 geon dark and damp, but cold, cheerless and bare. By 
 that irony of events which we so often see illustrated, the 
 cell where Robespierre passed his last night adjoined that 
 of Marie Antoinette, while just beyond was the room 
 from which the Girondists went to the scaffold. It must 
 have been with a sense of mighty triumph over her ene- 
 mies that the unfortunate Queen passed from the cell 
 through its low door to the scaffold. "Six francs for a 
 coffin for the widow Capet." It was the last indignity
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 185 
 
 that could be offered, and then she slept well. Oh, what 
 a city of horrors is this ! 
 
 Leaving the Conciergerie we drove to Napoleon's 
 tomb. Here we saw the remnant of another drama. 
 He sleeps, too. That brain, that heart, have long ceased 
 to throb. The memorial is most fitting to that man who 
 once convulsed Europe, and who rose to the summit of 
 earthly grandeur and fell to the depths of earthly failure. 
 In an open circular vault rests the sarcophagus of blood- 
 red stone in which the body lies. Around it are figures 
 of marble and battle flags fast falling to decay. The 
 Church of the Invalides is hardly more than one vast 
 tomb, for I think it doubtful if worship is ever here held. 
 The architecture is Corinthian, and the marble of column 
 and floor is white and fair. 
 
 The Hotel des Invalides itself, which we first visited, 
 is an enormous building, but now sparsely inhabited. 
 Around the court of honor run colonnades, similar to a 
 cloister, and frescoed on these walls are scenes from the 
 history of France. The Museum differs but little from 
 other military museums. A pleasant and talkative sol- 
 dier showed us several things of interest. Among them 
 was a certificate of membership in the Society of Cincin- 
 nati given to a French General and signed by George 
 Washington. The swords of Napoleon and the Gener- 
 als, the saddles of the later Kings of France, including
 
 186 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Louis XVI. and Charles X., were of interest. All these 
 things make me hate war more and more. Would they 
 were all beaten into plow-shares and pruning hooks ! 
 
 Friday proved to be the first bright day of the week, 
 and we were glad to improve it by going to Versailles. 
 We took the train at eleven thirty, from the Gare St. 
 Lazare, and in less than an hour were landed in the his- 
 toric town. St. Cloud and Sevres, through which we 
 went, should have had a visit. As it was, we 
 found our time insufficient for inspecting the unri- 
 valed attractions of the palace. The garden and park 
 we were obliged to pass without a look, except such as 
 we gained from the windows of the palace. I had not 
 supposed the buildings to be in a town, and it was there- 
 fore something of a surprise to drive up to the palace 
 gate through a no inconsiderable town. The exterior ap- 
 pearance of the palace does not differ materially from 
 similar buildings belonging to its period. It stretches 
 out a quarter of a mile in length, and incloses 
 numerous wings and courts. In the front court stands 
 a bronze statue of the Louis called the Great. We entered 
 the palace by the vestibule of the chapel, a beautiful 
 room of the early eighteenth century. The rooms of the 
 palace are now converted into picture and sculpture gal- 
 leries, and a mere synopsis of the paintings would fill 
 this book. There were miles of them, and hardly a poor
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 187 
 
 picture among them. They represented every phase of 
 French history and every man great in the military or 
 political history of France, from Clovis to Napoleon III. 's 
 downfall. The battle scenes of Horace Vernet and the 
 diplomatic scenes of Gallait, the paintings of Ary Scheffer, 
 of David, of Gros, of Lebrun, of Gerard and Gerdme, 
 were true works of art. Days might be spent in those 
 rooms. The magnificence of the paintings almost ob- 
 scures the magnificence of the rooms themselves. The 
 Gallerie des Glaces is one of the most magnificently deco- 
 rated rooms we have seen in Europe. The apartments 
 of the Queens, occupied by the three Maries, the wives 
 of lyouis XIV. , XV. and XVI. , were elegant apartments. 
 But most touching were the cozy half-dozen little rooms 
 known as the petits apartments de Marie Antoinette. 
 Here were passed the happy days of that unfortunate 
 woman, and here her friends gathered as related by 
 Madam Campan. The bolts on the windows and doors 
 were made by the King, and bore her monogram. In 
 the room which contains David's magnificent paintings of 
 the Coronation of Napoleon and that of his Marriage to 
 Maria Louisa, stands also Vela's sculpture of the Last 
 Days of Napoleon, of which that at Washington is a re- 
 plica. We passed through last the Gallery of Battles. 
 Blood, blood, always blood ! Here we saw a painting of 
 The Siege of Yorktown, or, as it was spelled, Yorck-
 
 i88 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 Town, in which a French General is giving the orders 
 for a final charge, and George Washington stands in the 
 background. Such are fame and fate ! 
 
 We walked to the station, and at half past six were 
 eating dinner at Hotel de la Tamise. 
 
 Saturday again proved rainy, and going out proved 
 a duty rather than a pleasure. In the morning we paid 
 our last visit to the Louvre, and spent most of our time 
 among the pictures. Those of the earlier French school 
 we rather slighted upon our first visit, and to them we 
 gave a large share of attention. I have very little rea- 
 son to change the opinion of French art which I hitherto 
 formed. Most of the pictures seem trivial, or cold or 
 sensational. We were struck with one picture by 
 an artist before unknown, representing the scene 
 at the pool of Bethesda. It was with a little throb 
 of regret that I turned my back on this great work. 
 The pictures we have seen have, on the whole, given me 
 great and lasting pleasure. 
 
 LONDON, Friday, 4 December. 
 
 Once more in the world's metropolis, for such this great, 
 smoky, dirty, muddy, foggy city is. There is more to 
 it in every way than any city we have seen. Paris, in spite 
 of its gay streets and glitter, did not seem to us prosper- 
 ous. The impression the place gave was one of living
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 189 
 
 beyond its means. And this the Government is cer- 
 tainly doing. The Republican ideas have taken deep 
 hold on the imagination of the people, and I fear each is 
 more desirous of obtaining liberty, equality and frater- 
 nity for himself than to give them to others. The rights 
 of citizenship appeal to the Frenchman more than their 
 duties. It is said a marked decline in the manners of 
 the humble Parisians is discernible within the last few 
 years. It must be so, if ever their reputation for courtesy 
 was merited. Nowhere in Kurope have we received less 
 politeness from the common people. The cab conductors 
 were hardly decently civil. 
 
 We left Paris with what we have not before had on 
 the continent a trunk. Our troubles began. It seemed 
 doubtful if the hackman could manage it, modest as 
 were its proportions compared with the conventional 
 Saratoga. We had five francs and over to pay extra for 
 its passage, and we spent some eight francs for it before 
 we got it to our lodgings. The train was swift, and 
 swayed so as to give us fore tastes of what the channel 
 had in store. And what did the channel have in store ? 
 First, cruel separation! These channel boats are like a 
 Quaker meeting house. Next, darkness and vile sick- 
 ness. I had a very comfortable time. But when poor 
 Charles staggered into the cabin after the boat was 
 moored he looked as if he had never, never loved me. I had
 
 igo CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 hard work to sustain him to the cars and get him covered 
 with rugs. Our custom house examination was light. 
 The box of blacking and homeopathic remedies alone ex- 
 cited the officer's suspicions. 
 
 Thursday rose as a typical London day, which is an 
 intensified Boston day ; a sullen sky and persistent rain 
 and slop. We took our dinner and went to the Dor6 Gal- 
 lery, where for two hours we were intensely moved by 
 the noble genius of that great artist. In some respects 
 the most powerful modern picture we have seen is Christ 
 on the way from the Judgment Hall to Calvary. The 
 union of dignity, pity and of joyful sacrifice in the figure 
 of the Saviour is wonderful. The Vale of Tears, Dore's 
 last work, was to me very impressive. Representatives 
 of every class of people from the King to the beggars 
 are pressing to the cross-bearing Christ, who beckons 
 from afar. In all some thirty pictures, besides sketches, 
 are here exhibited. 
 
 Friday how it rained, and what a profitless day we 
 spent ! I was the whole day in getting things ready to 
 pack and in packing. We had intended to take a Canter- 
 bury pilgrimage, but were obliged to defer it until Sat- 
 urday. We took a swift train at ten fifty-five, and re- 
 turned at half past three, giving us three hours and a 
 half in the quaint old town. We walked up to the Ca- 
 thedral, and reached it through the Mercery Lane, the fa-
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 191 
 
 vorite resort of the pilgrims. It is a noble old Cathe- 
 dral. Its. tower is remarkable for its springy effect. 
 The interior is divided quite entirely into two parts. The 
 nave is of the fourteenth century, and is in no way re- 
 markable. The choir, which is separated from it by a 
 stone screen, is raised above the level of the floor of the 
 nave , and is a most interesting example of the transition 
 from the Norman to the Gothic. Its date is 1175. Sev- 
 eral windows of the thirteenth century are of great 
 beauty. Nothing is left of the shrine of Becket. 
 Reformation zeal tore down the shrine and scattered the 
 ashes, but the steps and flags worn by the feet and knees 
 of the pious pilgrims who came to do homage at his tomb 
 may still be seen. The place where he fell (not by the 
 high altar) is likewise pointed out. The tomb of the 
 Black Prince, overhung by the armor he wore at Crescy, 
 makes the exploits of that brave prince seem very real. 
 The crypts of the Cathedral are not only very interest- 
 ing in themselves, but especially so from the fact they 
 sheltered the Huguenots, who fled from France after the 
 revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Here their looms 
 were placed and here they met for worship. On the 
 walls may be seen texts of Scripture not yet obliterated. 
 A part of the crypt is still used for worship by some of 
 the descendants of these men, who still retain their lan- 
 guage.
 
 i 9 2 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 A walk of a half hour brought us to St. Martin's, 
 the oldest Christian church in England, the very cradle 
 of our Anglo-Saxon Christianity. A small, quaint little 
 church it is, beautifully situated on a quiet knoll overlook- 
 ing the town, but it has been evidently much restored. We 
 did not get into it, but peeped in through the locked 
 gates. In the quiet little churchyard in front a lady 
 was at work setting out plants. 
 
 Sunday we made a full day. In the morning we went 
 to City Temple to hear Dr. Newth, but he did not 
 preach. Yet we heard a most excellent sermon on repent- 
 ance. In the afternoon we visited the Temple Sunday 
 School in quest of ideas, but soon made up our minds 
 that we could give these people more ideas than they 
 could digest. One thing struck us, the teachers were very 
 young, mere boys and girls. We next went down to 
 Lincoln Inn Chapel, where we heard the service chanted 
 by choir boys and priests, and also a sermon by Canon 
 Wace. 
 
 Monday we tried to do a little work, and spent a 
 part of the hours of daylight in the National Gallery and 
 South Kensington Museum. It was pleasant to renew 
 our impressions of these wonderful collections. Turner's 
 greatness impressed itself anew. No other of the British 
 school seems really great. At South Kensington we 
 went through several rooms that we did not see before,
 
 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 193 
 
 and examined more carefully Raphael's cartoons. Christ 
 giving the keys to Peter, although one of the most 
 injured, seemed to me the finest. The face of our 
 Saviour may be compared with that of the Transfigura- 
 tion. Several modern pictures are of great interest. 
 Napoleon watching the shores of France recede when on 
 his way to St. Helena, is interesting from an historical 
 as well as artistic point of view. Britannia's Realm was 
 also striking. Several of L/andseer's smaller pictures 
 are here. The Forster manuscripts we found very in- 
 teresting. They include several complete manuscripts of 
 Dickens' novels, and letters from distinguished states- 
 men and men of letters, such as Napoleon, Charles I., 
 Elizabeth, Milton, Wordsworth, Emerson, Longfellow, 
 and others. Tuesday we finished up. I spent Considerable 
 time in Paternoster Row and in the Sunday School Union 
 rooms, and made final purchases. Dr. Charles Dana Bar- 
 rows lunched with us at the Hoi born, where we sat long 
 over the board. I stayed in during the afternoon, and at 
 six o'clock dined with the Barrows, at the Grand Hotel, 
 where we sat still longer over the board. Wednesday was 
 consumed in packing. It was an Herculean task, and one 
 we almost despaired of. We had intended to take the 
 one o'clock train for Oxford ; instead we took the half past 
 three. We bade London farewell with few regrets. At 
 half past five we were in Oxford, and five minutes later we
 
 194 CARRIE F. BUTLER THWING. 
 
 were shivering at the Randolph over a fire so insufficient 
 as to make the cold more apparent. These English keep 
 their houses mortally cold. In the evening we were 
 talking with a Scotchman, and he spoke of 55 being 
 the point at which they keep their rooms in winter. 
 
 NEW YORK, 20 December, 1885. 
 We landed from the Oregon in a biting wind, the 
 anniversary of the Mayflower's landing. We had been 
 lying off New York harbor since early morning, but it 
 was noon before we disembarked. Edwin was on the 
 wharf, and it seemed pleasant enough to see a familiar 
 face. 
 
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