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THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
v 
 
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 -^-t^^e^ 
 
 jK/S^^^O'-i^-d^ 
 
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 6^c^ 
 
PEDESTRIAN TOUR IN EUROPE. 
 
 VIEWS A-FOOT: 
 
 OR 
 
 EUROPE SEEN WITH KNAPSACK AND STAFF. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. BAYARD TAYLOR. 
 
 WITH A PREFACE BY N. P. WILLIS. 
 
 Joj; on, jog on, the foot-path wav. 
 
 And merrily hent the stile-a ; 
 A merry heart goes all the day. 
 
 Your sad tires in a mile-a. 
 
 Winter's Tale. 
 
 FOURTEENTH EDITION, AVITH ADDITIONS. 
 AND A PORTRAIT FROM A SKETCH BY T. B. READ. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOL. 
 
 NEW- YORK: 
 GEORGE P. PUTNAM, 155 BROADWAY, 
 
 And 142 Strand, London. 
 1852. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 
 
 A/ILEY AND J^UTNAM. 
 
 In the Clerk's OfTice ot the District Court of the United States for the 
 Soiitliern District of New York. 
 
TO 
 
 'frank TAYLOR, 
 
 THESE RECORDS OF THE PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 WHOSE TOILS AND ENJOYMENTS WE HAVE SHARED TOGETHER, 
 
 ARE 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS RELATIVE A.ND FRIEND. 
 

 TO THE READER. 
 
 In presenting to the public a new and improved edition of this recoid of 
 his wanderings, the author could not justly suffer the opportunity to go by, 
 without expressing his grateful acknowledgment of the kindness with which 
 his work has been received. Although his aim was simply to give a narra- 
 tive of personal experience, which it was hoped might be of some value to 
 many a toiling student in the college of the world, he was aware that it 
 would be considered a test of his literary ability, and that whatever hearing 
 he might have hoped to obtain for the works of maturer years, would be de- 
 pendent on its success. With a total ignorance of the arts of book-making, 
 and uncertain v/hether a new voice from the track where thousands had been 
 before him, would find a patient auditory, it was therefore not without con- 
 siderable anxiety that he gave his volume to the world. But he was not 
 prepared to hope for such an immediate and generous favor as it received. 
 By the press of our own countiy, as well as the more rigid reviewers of 
 Great Britain, whatever merits it possesses were cordially appreciated, while 
 its faults were but lightly touched — perhaps from a sympathy with the youth 
 of the author and the plan of his enthusiastic pilgrimage. But what was 
 most grateful of all, he learned that many another young and hopeful spirit 
 had been profited and encouraged by his own experience, and was ready to 
 try the world with as little dependence on worldly means. The letters he 
 received from persons whose hopes and circumstances were what his own 
 had been, gave welcome evidence that he had not written in vain. He will 
 not say that this knowledge repaid him for whatever toil and hardship he had 
 undergone ; whoever is subjected to the same experience will learn that it 
 brings its own reward to the mand ; — but it will nerve him henceforth to bear 
 any lot, however severe, through which he may be enabled to say a word 
 that shall cheer or strengthen another. 
 
 He is now fully aware how much he has omitted from these pao-es, which 
 would have been curious and perhaps instructive to the reader ; — how many 
 blunders of inexperience ; how much thoughtless confidence in the world; 
 
 1 1-- -I. w d '%* a b A B 
 
iv TO THE READER. 
 
 how many painful struggles with pride, and a too-selfish independence ; how 
 many strange extremities of want and amusing expedients of relief. His 
 reluctance to relate much that was entirely personal and could not have been 
 told without some little sacrifice of feeling, has since been regretted, from 
 the belief that it might have been useful to others. Perhaps, however, it 
 will be better that each one should learn these lessons for himself. There 
 is a sensation of novelty, which, even in the most embarrassing situations, 
 produces a desperate kind of enjoyment, and in addition to this, the sufferer's 
 sympathies for humanity are very much deepened and enlarged by an ac- 
 quaintance with its trials. 
 
 In preparing the present edition of his book, the author at first contem- 
 plated a complete revision. The fact that seven editions had been sold in 
 a year and a half from the publication, seemed to require that he should make 
 such improvements as his riper judgment suggested, and which should render 
 it more worthy of so extensive a circulation. But further reflection con- 
 vinced him that it would be best to make little change. It was written 
 during his wanderings — partly by the wayside, when resting at mid-day, and 
 partly on the rough tables of peasant inns, in the stillness of deserted ruins, 
 or amid the sublime solitude of the mountain-top. It thus reflects faithfully 
 the impress of his own mind, in every part of the journey, and he would 
 prefer that it should remain a boyish work, however lacking in finish of 
 composition, rather than risk taking away whatever spirit it may have caught 
 from nature. Some particulars, which have been desired by persons about 
 to undertake a similar journey, and which may be generally interesting, have 
 been given in a new chapter at the close. With this addition, and that of a 
 sketch illustrating the costun:e of a pedestrian, which has been made by a 
 poet and artist friend, the work is again given to the public. The author 
 may hereafter be better able to deserve 'heir commendation. His wander- 
 ings are not yet over. 
 
 New- York, August, 1848 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 BY N. P. WILLIS. 
 
 • 
 
 The book which follows, requires httle or no introduction. 
 It tells its own story, and tells it well. The interest in it, 
 which induces the writer of this preface to be its usher to 
 the public, is simply that of his having chanced to be among 
 the first appreciators of the author's talent — an appreciation 
 that has since been so more than justified, that the writer is 
 proud to call the author of this book his friend, and bespeak 
 attention to the peculiar energies he has displayed in travel 
 and authorship. Mr. Taylor's poetical productions w^hile he 
 was still a printer's apprentice, made a strong impression on 
 the writer's mind, and he gave them their due of praise ac- 
 cordingly in the newspaper of which he was then Editor. 
 Some correspondence ensued, and other fine pieces of writ- 
 ing strengthened the admiration thus awakened, and when 
 the young poet-mechanic came to the city, and modestly an • 
 nounced the bold determination of visitinsr forei2:n lands— 
 with means, if they could be got, but with reliance on 
 manual labor if tlie}^ could not — the writer, understanding 
 the man, and seeing how capable he was of carrying out 
 his manly and enthusiastic scheme, and that it would work 
 uncorruptingly for the improvement of his mind and cha- 
 racter, counselled him to go. He went — his book tells how 
 successfully for all his purposes. He has returned, after two 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 years' absence, with large knowledge of the world, of men 
 and of manners, with a pure, invigorated and healthy mind, 
 having passed all this time abroad, and seen and accomplished 
 more than most travelers, at the cost of only $500, and this 
 stun earned on the road. This, in the writer's opmion, is 
 a fine instance of character and energy. The book, which 
 records the difficulties and struggles of a printer's apprentice 
 achieving this, must be interesting to Americans. The pride 
 of the country is in its self-made men. • 
 
 What Mr. Taylor is, or what he is yet to become, can- 
 not well be touched upon here, but tliat it will yet be written, 
 and on a bright page, is^ of course, his own confident hope 
 and the writer's confident expectation. The book, which is 
 the record of his progress thus far, is novv" cordially com- 
 mended to the public, and it will be read, perhaps, more 
 understandingly after a perusal of the following outline 
 sketch of the difficulties the author had to contend with — a 
 letter written in reply to a note from the writer asking for 
 some of the particulars of his start and progress : 
 
 To. Mr. Willis — 
 
 My dear Sir : — 
 Nearly three years ago (in the beginning of 1844) the 
 time for accomplishmg my long cherished desire of visiting 
 Europe, seemed to arrive. A cousin, who had long intended 
 going abroad, was to leave in a few months, and although 1 
 was then surrounded by the most unfavorable circumstances, 
 I determined to accompany him, at v/hatcver hazard. T haa 
 still two years of my apprenticeship to serve out ; I was en- 
 tirely without means, and my project was strongly opposed 
 by my friends^ as something too visionary to be practicable 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 A short time before, Mr. Griswold advised me to pub- 
 lish a small volume of youthful effusions, a few of which 
 had appeared in Graham's Magazine, which he then edited ; 
 the idea struck me, that by so doing, I might, if they should 
 be favorably noticed, obtain a newspaper correspondence 
 which would enable me to make the start. 
 
 The volume was published ; a sufficient number was sold 
 among my friends to defray all expenses, and it was chari- 
 tably noticed by the Philadelphia press. Some literary 
 friends, to whom I confided my design, promised to aid me 
 with their influence. Trusting to this, I made arrangements 
 for leaving the printing-office, which I succeeded in doing, 
 by making a certain compensation for the remainder of my 
 time. I was now fully confident of success, feeling satisfied, 
 that a strong will would always make itself a way. After 
 many applications to different editors and as many disap- 
 pointments, I finally succeeded, about two weeks before our 
 departure, in making a partial engagement. Mr. Chandler 
 of the United States Gazette and Mr. Patterson of the Satur- 
 day Evening Post, paid me fifty dollars, each, in advance for 
 twelve letters, to be sent from Europe, with the probabihty 
 of accepting more, if these should be satisfactory. This, 
 with a sum which I received from Mr. Graham for poems 
 published in his Magazine, put me in possession of about a 
 hundred and forty dollars, with which I determined to start, 
 trusting to future remuneration for letters, or if that should 
 fail, to my skill as a compositor, fcr I supposed I could at 
 the worst, work my way through Europe, like the German 
 hand werker. Thus, with another companion, we left 
 home, an enthusiastic and hopeful trio. 
 
 I need not trace our wanderings at length. After eight 
 Itionths of guspense, during which tiilie my small meatie were 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 entirely exhausted, I received a letter from Mr. Patterson, 
 continuing the engagement for the remainder of my stay, 
 with a remittance of one hundred dollars from himself and 
 Mr. Graham. Other remittances, received from time to time, 
 enabled me to stay abroad two years, during which 1 tra- 
 veled on foot upwards of three thousand miles in Germany, 
 Switzerland, Italy and France. I was obliged, however, to 
 use the strictest economy — to live on pilgrim fare, and do 
 penance in rain and cold. My means several times entirely 
 failed ; but I was always relieved from serious difficulty 
 through unlooked-for friends, or some unexpected turn of 
 fortune. At Rome, owing to the expenses and embarrass- 
 ments of traveling in Italy, I was obliged to give up my 
 original design of proceeding on foot to Naples and across 
 the peninsula to Otranto, sailing thence to Corfu and making 
 a pedestrian journey through Albania and Greece. But the 
 main object of my pilgrimage is accomplished ; I visited the 
 principal places of interest in Europe, enjoyed her grandest 
 scenery and the marvels of ancient and modern art, became 
 familiar vnih other languages, other customs and other in- 
 stitution?^ and returned home, after two years' absence, Wil- 
 li »ig I'O-'v vi^h satisfied curiosity, to resume life in America. 
 
 Yours, most sincerely, 
 
 J. Bayard Taylor. 
 
30NTENTS. 
 
 'AGE 
 
 CHAPTER I.— Tlie Voyage 1 
 
 II. — A Day in Ireland c . . & 
 
 III. — Ben Lomond and the Highland Lakes ... 13 
 
 IV.— The Burns' Festival 23 
 
 V. — Walk from Edinburgh over the Border and errival at 
 
 London 29 
 
 VI.— Some of the " Sights" of London - ... 38 
 
 VII.— Flight through Belgium 4G 
 
 VIII.— The Rhine to Heidelberg 52 
 
 IX. — Scenes in and around Heidelberg . . . , 58 
 
 X. — A Walk throucrh the Odenwald 61 
 
 XI. — Scenes in Frankfort — An American Composer — The 
 
 Poet Freiligrath . 73 
 
 XII. — A week among the Students 82 
 
 XIII. — Christmas and Newr Year in Germany . , c 89 
 
 XIV. — Winter in Frankfort — A Fair, an Inundaticn^nda Fire 94 
 
 XV. — The Dead and the Deaf— Mendelssohn the Composer 104 
 
 XVI. — Journey on Foot from Frankfort to Cassel . . i09 
 
 XVII. — Adventures among the Hartz .... 115 
 
 XVIII. — Notes in Lcipsic and Dresden 125 
 
 XIX. — Rambles in the Saxon Switzerland . . . 134 
 
 XX. — Scenes in Prague 143 
 
 XXL — Journey through Eastern Bohemia and Mora\'ia to the 
 
 Danube 149 
 
 XXII.— Vienna 156 
 
 XXIIL— Up the Danube 171 
 
 XXIV.— The Unknown Student 178 
 
 XXV.— The Austrian Alps 182 
 
 XXVL— jMunich 193 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL— Through Wurtemberg to Heidelberg . . 205 
 
 XXVIII.— Freiburg and the Black Forest . • . 213 
 
 XXIX. — People and Places in Eastern Switzerland . 221 
 
 XXX. — Passage of the St Gothard and descent into Italy 231 
 
 XXXI.— Milan 242 
 
 XXXII.— Walk from Milan to Genoa .... 247 
 
 XXXIII. — Scenes in Genoa, Leghorn and Pisa . . 252 
 
 XXXIV.— Florence and its Galleries .... 262 
 
 XXXV. — A Pilgrimage to Vallombrosa .... 272 
 
 XXXVI. — Walk to Siena and Pratolino — Incidents in Flo- 
 
 ence . 281 
 
 XXXVII. — American Art in Florence .... 292 
 XXXVIII. — An Adventure on the Great St. Bernard — Walks 
 
 around Florence 300 
 
 '^XXIX. — Winter Traveling among the Appenines . . 308 
 
 XL.— Rome 319 
 
 XLI. — Tivoli and the Roman Campagna . . - 333 
 XLII. — Tivoli and the Roman Campagna (^continued) 341 
 XLIII. — Pilgrimage to Vaucluse and Journey up the Rhone 347 
 XLI V. — Traveling in Burgundy — The Miseries of a Coun- 
 try Dihgence 359 
 
 XLV. — Poetical Scenes in Paris .... 4G5 
 
 XLVI. — A Glimpse of Normandy .... 372 
 XL VII. — Lock hart, Bernard Barton and Croly — London 
 
 Chimes and Greenwich Fair . . . 376 
 
 <^ 
 
VIEWS A. FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted me 
 from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, amounting 
 almost to belief, that I should one day behold the scenes, among 
 which my fancy had so long wandered. The want of means 
 was for a time a serious check to my anticipations ; but I could 
 not content myself to wait until I had slowly accumulated so 
 large a sum as tourists usually spend on their travels. It seemed 
 to me that a more humble method of seeing the world would 
 place within the power of almost every one, what has hitherto 
 been deemed the privilege of the wealthy few. Such a journey, 
 too, offered advantages for becoming acquainted with people as 
 well as places — for observing more intimately, the effect of gov- 
 ernment and education, and more than all, for the study of hu- 
 man nature, in every condition of life. At length I became pos- 
 sessed of a small sum, to be earned by letters descriptive of things 
 abroad, and on the 1st of July, 1844, set sail for Liverpool, with 
 a relative and friend, whose circumstances were somewhat simi- 
 lar to mine. How far the success of the experiment and the ob- 
 ject of our long pilgrimage were attained, these pages will show. 
 
 LAND AND SEA. ' 
 
 There are springs that rise in the greenwood's heart, 
 
 Where its leafy glooms are cast, 
 And the branches droop in the solemn air, 
 
 Unstirred by the sweeping blast. 
 
 2 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 There are hills that lie in the noontide calm, 
 
 On the lap of the quiet earth ; 
 Andj cri)wn'd with gold by the ripened grain, 
 
 Surround my place of birth. 
 
 Dearer are these to ray pining heart, 
 
 Than the beauty of the deep, 
 When the moonlight falls in a belt of gold 
 
 On the waves that heave in sleep. 
 The rustling talk of the clustered leaves 
 
 That shade a well-known door, 
 Is sweeter far than the booming sound 
 
 Of the breaking wave before. 
 
 When night on the ocean sinks calmly down, 
 
 I climb the vessel's prow, 
 Where the foam- wreath glows with its phosphor ligbt, 
 
 Like a crown on a sea-nymph's brow. 
 Above, through the lattice of rope and spar, 
 
 The stars in their beauty burn ; 
 And the spirit longs to ride Cheir beams, 
 
 And back to the loved return. 
 
 They say that the sunset is brighter far 
 
 When it sinks behind the sea-. 
 That the stars shine out witii a softer fire — 
 
 Not thus they seem to me. 
 Dearer the flush of the crimson west 
 
 Through trees that my childhood knew, 
 When the star of love, with its silver lamp. 
 
 Lights the homes of the tried and true ! 
 
 Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt from the 
 necessity of" creature comforts," a sea-voyage would be delfght- 
 ful. To the landsman there is sublimity in the wild and ever- 
 varied forms of the ocean ; they fill his mind with living images 
 of a glory he had only dreamed of before. But we would have 
 been willing to forego all this and get back the comforts of the 
 shore. At New York we took passage in the second cabin of 
 the Oxford, wbich, as usual in the Liverpool packets, consisted 
 of a small space amid-ships, fitted up with rough, temporary 
 berths. The communication with the deck is by an open hatch- 
 way, which in storms is closed down. As the passengers in this 
 
THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 cabin furnish their own provisions, we made ourselves acquainted 
 with the contents of certain storehouses on Pine St. wharf, and 
 purchased a large box of provisions, which was stowed away under 
 our narrow berth. The cook, for a small compensation, took on 
 himself the charge of preparing them, and we made ourselves as 
 comfortable as the close, dark dwelling would admit. 
 
 As we approached the Banks of Newfoundland, a gale arose, 
 which for two days and nights carried us on, careering Mazeppa- 
 like, up hill and down. The sea looked truly magnificent, al- 
 though the sailors told us it was nothing at all in comparison with 
 the storms of winter. But we were not permitted to pass the 
 Banks, without experiencing one of the calms, for which that neigh- 
 borhood is noted. For three days we lay almost motionless on the 
 glassy water, sometimes surrounded by large flocks of sea-gulls. 
 The weed brought by the gulf stream, floated around — some 
 branches we fished up, were full of beautiful little shells. Once 
 a large scliool of black-fish came around the vessel, and the car- 
 penter climbed down on the fore-chains, with a harpoon to strike 
 one. Scarcely had he taken his position, when they all darted 
 off in a straight line, through the water, and were soon out of 
 sight. He said they smelt the harpoon. 
 
 We congratulated ourselves on having reached the Banks in 
 seven days, as it is considered the longest third-part of the pas- 
 sage. But the hopes of reaching Liverpool in twenty days, were 
 soon overthrown. A succession of southerly winds drove the 
 vessel as far north aslat. 55 deg., without bringing us much nearer 
 our destination. It was extremely cold, for we were but five de- 
 grees south of tlie latitude of Greenland, and the long northern 
 twilio-hts came on. The last glow of the evening tvvilio;ht had 
 scarcely faded, before the first glimmering of dawn appeared. I 
 found it extremely easy to read, at 10 P. M., on the deck. 
 
 We had much diversion on board from a company of Iowa In- 
 dians, under the celebrated chief "White Cloud," who are on a 
 visit to England. They are truly a wild enough looking com- 
 pany, and helped not a little to relieve the tedium of the passage. 
 The chief was a very grave and dignified person, but some of 
 the braves were merry enough. One day we had a war-dance 
 on deck, which was a most ludicrous scene. The chief and two 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 braves sat upon the deck, beating violently a small drum and howl- 
 ing forth their war-song, while the others in full dress, painted in 
 a grotesque style, leaped about, brandishing tomahawks and 
 spears, and terminating each dance with a terrific yell. Some 
 of the men are very fine-looking, but the squaws are all ugly. 
 They occupied part of the second cabin, separated only by a 
 board partition from our room. This proximity was any thing 
 but agreeable. They kept us awake more than half the night, 
 by singing and howling in the most dolorous manner, with the 
 accompaniment of slapping their hands violently on their bare 
 breasts. We tried an opposition, and a young German student, 
 who was returning home after two years' travel in America, 
 made our room ring with the chorus from Der Freischutz — but 
 in vain. They would howl and beat their breasts, and the pap- 
 poose would squall. Any loss of temper is therefore not to be 
 wondered at, when I state that I could scarcely turn in my berth, 
 much less stretch myself out ; my cramped limbs alone drove 
 off half the night's slumber. 
 
 It was a pleasure, at least, to gaze on their strong athletic 
 frames. Their massive chests and powerful limbs put to shame 
 our dwindled proportions. One old man, in particular, who 
 seemed the patriarch of the band, used to stand for hours on the 
 quarter deck, sublime and motionless as a statue of Jupiter. An 
 interesting incident occurred during the calm of which I spoke. 
 They began to be fearful we were doomed to remain there for- 
 ever, unless the spirits were invoked for a favorable wind. Ac- 
 cordingly the prophet lit his pipe and smoked with great delib- 
 eration, muttering all the while in a low voice. Then, having 
 obtained a bottle of beer from the captain, he poured it solemnly 
 over the stern of the vessel into the sea. There were some indi- 
 cations of wind at the time, and accordingly the next morning 
 we had a fine breeze, which the lowas attributed solely to the 
 Prophet's incantation and Eolus' love of beer. 
 
 After a succession of calms and adverse winds, on the 25th 
 we were off the Hebrides, and though not within sight of land, 
 the southern winds came to us strongly freighted with the " mea- 
 dow freshness" of the Irish bogs, so we could at least smell it. 
 That day the wind became more favorable, and the next morning 
 
FIRST SIGHT OF LAND 
 
 we were all roused out of our berths by sunrise, at the long 
 wished-for cry of " land !" Just under the golden flood of light 
 that streamed through the morning clouds, lay afar-ofF and indis- 
 tinct the crags of an island, with the top of a light-house visible 
 at one extremity. To the south of it, and barely distinguishable, 
 so completely was it blended in hue with the veiling cloud, 
 loomed up a lofty mountain. I shall never forget the sight ! As 
 we drew nearer, the dim and soft outline it first wore, was broken 
 into a range of crags, with lofty precipices jutting out to the sea, 
 and sloping off" inland. The white wall of the light-house shone 
 in the morning's light, and the foam of the breakers dashed up at 
 the foot of the airy cliffs. It was worth all the troubles of a long 
 voyage, to feel the glorious excitement which this herald of new 
 scenes and new adventures created. The light-house was on 
 Tory Jsland, on the north-western coast of Ireland. The Cap- 
 tain decided on taking the North Channel, for, although rarely 
 done, it was in our case nearer, and is certainly more interesting 
 than the usual route. 
 
 We passed the Island of Ennistrahul, near the entrance of 
 Londonderry harbor, and at sunset saw in the distance the isl- 
 ands of Islay and Jura, off the Scottish coast. Next morning we 
 were close to the promontory of Fairhead, a bold, precipitous head- 
 land, like some of the Palisades on the Hudson ; the highlands of 
 the Mull of Cantire were on the opposite side of the Channel, and 
 the wind being ahead, we tacked from shore to shore, running so 
 near the Irish coast, that we could see the little thatched huts, 
 stacks of peat, and even rows of potatoes in the fields. It was a 
 panorama : the view extended for miles inland, and the fields of 
 different colored grain were spread out before us, a brilliant mo- 
 saic. Towards evening we passed Ailsa Crag, the sea-bird's 
 home, within sight, though about twenty miles distant. 
 
 On Sunday, the 28th, we passed the lofty headland of the Mull 
 of Galloway and entered the Irish Sea. Here there was an oc- 
 currence of an impressive nature. A woman, belonging to the 
 steerage, who had been ill the whole passage, died the morning 
 before. She appeared to be of a very avaricious disposition, 
 though this might indeed have been the result of self-denial, prac- 
 tised through filial affection. In the morning she was speechless, 
 
6 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and while they were endeavonng to persuade her to give up her 
 keys to the captain, died. In her pocket were found two parcels, 
 containing forty sovereigns, sewed up with the most miserly care. 
 It w^as ascertained she had a widowed mother in the north of 
 Ireland, and judging her money could be better applied than to 
 paying for a funeral on shore, the captain gave orders for com- 
 mitting the body to the waves. It rained drearily as her corpse, 
 covered with starred bunting, was held at the gangway while the 
 captain read the funeral service ; then one plunge was heard, and 
 a white object flashed up through the dark waters, as the ship 
 passed on. 
 
 In the afternoon we passed the Isle of Man, having a beautiful 
 view of the Calf, with a white stream tumbling down the rocks 
 into the sea ; and at night saw the sun set behind the mountains 
 of Wales. About midnight, the pilot came on boai'd, and soon 
 after sunrise I saw the distant spires of Liverpool. The Welsh 
 coast was studded with windmills, all in motion, and the harbor 
 spotted with buoys, bells and floating lights. How delightful it 
 was to behold the green trees on the banks of the Mersey, and to 
 know that in a few hours we should be on land ! About 11 
 o'clock we came to anchor in the chawnel of the Mersey, near the 
 docks, and after much noise, bustle and confusion, were trans- 
 ferred, with our baggage, to a small steamboat, giving a parting 
 cheer to the lowas, who remained on board. On landing, I stood 
 a moment to observe the scene. The baggage-wagons, drawn by 
 horses, mules and donkeys, were extraordinary ; men were going 
 about crying ^^ the celebrated Tralorum gingerbread!^^ which 
 they carried in baskets; and a boy in the University dress, with 
 long blue gown and yellow knee-breeches, was running to the 
 wharf to look at the Indians. 
 
 At last the carts were all loaded, the word was given to start, 
 and then, what a scene ensued ! Away went the mules, the 
 horses and the donkeys ; away ran men and women and children, 
 carrying chairs and trunks, and boxes and bedding. The wind 
 was blowing, and the dust whirled up as they dashed helter- 
 skelter through the gate and started off* on a hot race, down the 
 dock to the depot. Two wagons came together, one of which 
 was overturned, scattering the broken boxes of a Scotch family 
 
LANDING. 
 
 over the pavement ; but while the poor woman was crying over 
 her loss, the tide swept on, scarcely taking time to glance at the 
 mishap. 
 
 Our luggage was " passed" with little trouble ; the officer 
 merely opening the trunks and pressing his hands on the top. 
 Even some American reprints of English works which my com- 
 panion carried, and feared would be taken from him, were passed 
 over without a word. I was agreeably surprised at this, as from 
 the accounts of some travellers, I had been led to fear horrible 
 things of custom-houses. This over, we took a stroll about the 
 city. I was first struck by seeing so many people walking in the 
 middle of the streets, and so many gentlemen going about with 
 pinks stuck in their button-holes. Then, the houses being all 
 built of brown granite or dark brick, gives the town a sombre 
 appearance, which the sunshine (when there is any) cannot dis- 
 pel. Of Liverpool we saw little. Before the twilight had wholly 
 faded, we were again tossing on the rough waves of the Irish 
 Sea. 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DAY IN IRELAND. 
 
 On calling at the steamboat office in Liverpool, to take passage 
 to Port Rush, we found that the fare in the fore cabin was but two 
 shillings and a half, while in the chief cabin it was six times as 
 much. As I had started to make the tour of all Europe with a 
 sum little higher than is sometimes given for the mere passage to 
 and fro, there was no alternative — the twenty-four hours' discom- 
 fort could be more easily endured than the expense, and as I 
 expected to encounter many hardships, it was best to make a 
 beginning. I had crossed the ocean with tolerable comfort for 
 twenty-four dollars, and was determined to try whether England, 
 where I had been told it was almost impossible to breathe without 
 expense, might not also be seen by one of limited means. 
 
 The fore cabin was merely a bare room, with a bench along 
 one side, which was occupied by half a dozen Irishmen in knee- 
 breeches and heavy brogans. As we passed out of the Clarence 
 Dock at 10 P. M., I went below and managed to get a seat on one 
 end of the bench, where I spent the night in sleepless misery. 
 The Irish bestowed themselves about the floor as they best could, 
 for there was no light, and very soon the Morphean deepness of 
 their breathing gave token of blissful unconsciousness. 
 
 The next morning was misty and rainy, but I preferred walk- 
 ing the deck and drying myself occasionally beside the chimney, 
 to sitting in the dismal room below. We passed the Isle of Man, 
 and through the whole forenoon were tossed about very disagree- 
 ably in the North Channel. In the afternoon we stopped at Larne, 
 a little antiquated village, not far from Belfast, at the head of a 
 crooked arm of the sea. There is an old ivy-grown tower near, 
 and high green mountains rise up around. After leaving it, we 
 had a beautiful panoramic view of the northern coast. Many of 
 
IRISH PEASANTS. 
 
 the precipices are of the same formation as the Causeway ; Fair- 
 head, a promontory of this kind, is grand in the extreme. The 
 perpendicular face of fluted rock is about three hundred feet in 
 height, and towering up sublimely from the water, seemed almost 
 to overhang our heads. 
 
 My companion compared it to Niagara Falls petrified ; and I 
 think the simile very striking. It is like a cataract falling in 
 huge waves, in some places leaping out from a projecting rock, 
 in others descending in an unbroken sheet. 
 
 We passed the Giant's Causeway after dark, and about eleven 
 o'clock reached the harbor of Port Rush, where, after stumbling 
 up a strange old street, in the dark, we found a little inn, and 
 soon forgot the Irish Coast and everything else. 
 
 In the morning when we arose it was raining, with little pros- 
 pect of fair weather, but having expected nothing better, we set 
 out on foot for the Causeway. The rain, however, soon came 
 down in torrents, and we were obliged to take shelter in a cabin 
 by the road-side. The w-hole house consisted of one room, with 
 bare walls and roof, and earthen floor, while a window of three 
 or four panes supplied the light. A fire of peat was burning on 
 the hearth, and their breakfast, of potatoes alone, stood on the 
 table. The occupants received us with rude but genuine hospi- 
 tality, giving us the only seats in the room to sit upon ; except a 
 rickety bedstead that stood in one corner and a small table, 
 there was no other furniture in the house. The man appeared 
 rather intelligent, and although he complained of the hardness 
 of their lot, had no sympathy with O'Connell or the Repeal 
 movement. 
 
 We left this miserable hut, as soon as it ceased raining — and, 
 though there were many cabins along the road, few were better 
 than this. At length, after passing the walls of an old church, 
 in the midst of older tombs, we saw the roofless tow-ers of Dun- 
 luce Castle, on the sea-shore. It stands on an isolated rock, 
 rising perpendicularly two hundred feet above the sea, and con- 
 nected >vith the cliffs of the mainland by a narrow arch of ma- 
 sonry. On the summit of the cliffs were the remains of the 
 buildings where the ancient lords kept their vassals. An old 
 man, who takes care of it for Lord Antrim, on whose property 
 
 2* 
 
10 VIEWS A-FCOT. 
 
 It is situated, showed us the way down to the castle. We walked 
 across the narrow arch, entered the ruined hall, and looked down 
 on the roaring sea below. It still rained, the wind swept furi- 
 ously through the decaying arches of the banqueting hall and 
 waved the long grass on the desolate battlements. Far below, 
 the sea foamed white on the breakers and sent up an unceasing^ 
 boom. It was the most mournful and desolate picture I evei 
 beheld. There were some low dungeons yet entire, and rudt 
 stairways, where, by stooping down, 1 could ascend nearly to tlid 
 top of one of the towers, and look out on the wild scenery of 
 the coast. 
 
 Going back, I found a way down the cliff, to the mouth of a 
 cavern in the rock, which extends under the whole castle to the 
 sea. Sliding down a heap of sand and stones, I stood under an 
 arch eighty feet high ; in front the breakers dashed into the en- 
 trance, flinging the spray half-way to the roof, while the sound 
 rang up through the arches like thunder. It seemed to me the 
 haunt of the old Norsemen's sea-gods ! 
 
 We left the road near Dunluce and walked along the smooth 
 beach to the cliffs that surround the Causeway. Here we ob- 
 tained a guide, and descended to one of the caves which can be 
 entered from the shore. Opposite the entrance a bare rock called 
 Sea Gull Isle, rises out of the sea like a church steeple. The roof 
 at first was low, but we shortly came to a branch that opened on 
 the sea, where the arch was forty-six feet in height. The break- 
 ers dashed far into the cave, and flocks of sea-birds circled round 
 its mouth. The sound of a gun was like a deafening peal 
 of thunder, crashing from arch to arch till it rolled out of the 
 cavern. 
 
 On the top of the hill a splendid hotel is erected for visitors 
 to the Causeway ; after passing this we descended to the base of 
 the cliffs, which are here upwards of four hundred feet high, and 
 soon began to find, in the columnar formation of the rocks, indi- 
 cations of our approach. The guide pointed out some columns 
 which appeared to have been melted and run together, from 
 which Sir Humphrey Davy attributed the formation of the Cause- 
 way to the action of tire. Near this is the Giant's Well, a spring 
 of the purest water, the bottom formed by three perfect hexa- 
 
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. U 
 
 gons, and tne sides of regular columns. One of us observing 
 that no giant had ever drunk from it, the old man answered — 
 " Perhaps not : but it was made by a giant — God Almighty !'' 
 
 From the well, the Causeway commences — a mass of columns, 
 from triangular to octagonal, lying in compact forms, and extend- 
 ing into the sea. I was somewhat disappointed at first, having 
 supposed the Causeway to be of great height, but I found the 
 Giant's Loom, which is the highest part of it, to be but about 
 fifty feet from the water. The singular appearance of the 
 columns and the many strange forms which they assume, ren- 
 der it nevertheless, an object of the greatest interest. Walking 
 out on the rocks we came to the Ladies' Chair, the seat, back, 
 sides and footstool, being all regularly formed by the broken 
 columns. The guide said that any lady who would take three 
 drinks from the Giant's Well, then sit in this chair and think 
 of any gentleman for whom she had a preference, would be mar- 
 ried before a twelvemonth. I asked him if it would answer as 
 well x'br gentlemen, for by a wonderful coincidence we had each 
 drank three times at the well ! He said it wouW, and thought 
 he was confirming his statement. 
 
 A cluster of columns about half-way up the cliff is called the 
 Giant's Organ — from its very striking resemblance to that instru- 
 ment, and a single rock, worn by the waves into the shape of a 
 rude seat, is his chair. A mile or two further along the coast, 
 two cliffs project from the range, leaving a vast semicircular 
 space between, Avhich, from its resemblance to the old Roman 
 theatres, was appropriated for that purpose by the Giant. Half- 
 way down the crags are two or three pinnacles of rock, called 
 the Chimneys, and the stumps of several others can be seen, 
 which, it is said, were shot off by a vessel belonging to the Span- 
 ish Armada, in mistake for the towers of Dunluce Castle. The 
 vessel was afterwards wrecked in the bay below, which has ever 
 since been called Spanish Bay. and in calm weather the wreck 
 may be still seen. Many of the columns of the Caiiseway have 
 been carried ofT and sold as pillars for mantels — and though a 
 notice is put up threatening any one with the ^igor of the law, 
 depredations are occasionally made. 
 
 Returning, we left the road at Dunluce, and took a path which 
 
12 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 led along the summit of the cliffs. The twilight was gathering, 
 and the wind blew with perfect fury, which, combined with the 
 black and stormy sky, gave the coast an air of extreme wildness. 
 All at once, as we followed the winding path, the crags appeared 
 to open before us, disclosing a yawning chasm, down which a 
 large stream, falling in an unbroken sheet, was lost in the gloom 
 below. Witnessed in a calm day, there may perhaps be nothing 
 striking about it, but coming upon us at once, through the gloom 
 of twilight, with the sea thundering below and a scowling sky 
 above, it was absolutely startling. 
 
 The path at last wound, with many a steep and slippery bend, 
 down the almost perpendicular crags, to the shore, at the foot of 
 a giant isolated rock, having a natural arch through it, eighty 
 feet in height. We followed the narrow strip of beach, having 
 the bare crags on one side and a line of foaming breakers on the 
 other. It soon grew dark ; a furious storm came up and swept 
 like a hurricane along the shore. I then understood what Home 
 means by " the lengthening javelins of the blast," for every drop 
 seemed to strike with the force of an arrow, and our clothes were 
 soon pierced in every part. 
 
 Then we went up among the sand hills, and lost each other in 
 the darkness, when, after stumbling about among the gullies for 
 half an hour, shouting for my companions, I found the road and 
 heard my call answered ; but it happened to be two Irishmen, who 
 came up and said — " And is it another gintleman ye're callin' 
 for ? we heard some one cryin', and didn't knov/ but somebody 
 might be kilt." 
 
 Finally, about eleven o'clock we all arrived at the inn, drip- 
 ping with rain, and before a warm fire concluded the adventures 
 of our day in Ireland. 
 
A DECK PASSAGE. 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BEN LOBIOND AND THE HIGHLAND LAKES. 
 
 The steamboat Londonderry called the next day at Port Rush, 
 and we left in her for Greenock. We ran down the Irish coast, 
 past Dunluce Casde and the Causeway ; the Giant's organ was 
 very plainly visible, and the winds were strong enough to have 
 sounded a storm-song upon it. Farther on we had a distant view 
 of Carrick-a-Rede, a precipitous rock, separated by a yawning 
 chasm from the shore, frequented by the catchers of sea-birds. 
 A narrow swinging bridge, which is only passable in calm wea- 
 ther, crosses this chasm, 200 feet above the water. 
 
 The deck of the steamer was crowded with Irish, and certainly 
 gave no very favorable impression of the condition of the peas- 
 antry of Ireland. On many of their countenances there was 
 scarcely a mark of intelligence — they were a most brutalized 
 and degraded company of beings. Many of them were in a 
 beastly state of intoxication, which, from the contents of some of 
 their pockets, was not likely to decrease. As evening drew on, 
 two or three began singing and the others collected in groups 
 around them. One of them who sang with great spirit, was 
 loudly applauded, and poured forth song after song, of the most 
 rude and unrefined character. 
 
 We took a deck passage for three shillings, in preference to 
 paying twenty for the cabin, and having secured a vacant place 
 near the chimney, kept it during the whole passage. The waves 
 were as rough in the Channel as I ever saw them in the Atlantic, 
 and our boat was tossed about like a plaything. By keeping still 
 we escaped sickness, but we could not avoid the sight of the mis- 
 erable beings who filled the deck. Many of them spoke in the 
 Irish tongue, and our German friend (the student whom I have 
 already mentioned) noticed in many of the words a resemblance 
 
14 VIEWS A-FOgT. 
 
 to his motlier tongue. 1 procured a bowl of soup from the stew- 
 ard, but as I was not able to eat it, I gave it to an old nnan whose 
 hungry look and wistful eyes convinced me it would not be lost 
 on him. He swallowed it with ravenous avidity, together with a 
 crust of bread, which was all I had to give him, and seemed for 
 the time as happy and cheerful as if all his earthly wants were 
 satisfied. 
 
 We passed by the foot of Goat Fell, a lofty mountain on the 
 island of Arran, and sped on through the darkness past the hills 
 of Bute, till we entered the Clyde. We arrived at Greenock at 
 one o'clock at night, and walking at random through its silent 
 streets, met a policeman, whom we asked to show us where we 
 might find lodgings. He took m}'- cousin and myself to the 
 house of a poor widow, who had a spare bed which she let to 
 strangers, and then conducted our comrade and the. German to 
 another lodging-place. 
 
 An Irish strolling musician, who was on board the Dumbarton 
 boat, commenced playing soon after we left Greenock, and, to my 
 surprise, struck at once into " Hail Columbia." Then he gave 
 " the Exile of Erin," with the most touching sweetness ; and I 
 noticed that always after playing any air that was desired of him, 
 he would invariably return to the sad lament, which I never 
 heard executed with more feeling. It might have been the mild, 
 soft air of the morning, or some peculiar mood of mind that in- 
 fluenced me, but I have been far less affected by music which 
 would be considered immeasurably superior to his. 1 had been 
 thinking of America, and going up to the old man, I quietly bade 
 him play " Home." It thrilled with a painful delight that almost 
 brought tears to my eyes. My companion started as the sweet 
 melody arose, and turned towards me, his face kindling with 
 emotion. 
 
 Dumbarton Rock rose higher and higher as we went up the 
 Clyde, and before we arrived at the town I hailed the dim out- 
 line of Ben Lomond, rising far off among the highlands. The 
 town is at the head of a small inlet, a short distance from the 
 rock, which was once surrounded by water. We went immedi- 
 ately to the Castle. The rock is nearly 500 feet high, and from 
 its position and great strength as a fortress, has been called the 
 
LEVEN VALE. 15 
 
 Gibraltar of Scotland. The top is surrounded with battlements, 
 and the armory and barracks stand in a cleft between the two 
 j)eaks. We passed down a green lane, around the rock, and en- 
 tered the castle on the south side. A soldier conducted us through 
 a narrow cleft, overhung with crags, to the summit. Here, from 
 the remains of a round building, called Wallace's Tower, from 
 its having been used as a look-out station by that chieftain, we 
 had a beautiful view of the whole of Leven Vale to Loch Lo- 
 mond, Ben Lomond and the Highlands, and on the other hand, 
 the Clyde and the Isle of Bute. In the soft and still balminess 
 of the morning, it was a lovely picture. In the armory, I lifted 
 the sword of Wallace, a two-handed weapon, five feet in length. 
 We were also shown a Lochaber battle-axe, from Bannockburn, 
 and several ancient claymores. 
 
 We lingered long upon the summit before we forsook the stern 
 fortress for the sweet vale spread out before us. It was indeed a 
 glorious walk, from Dumbarton to Loch Lomond, through this 
 enchanting valley. The air was mild and clear ; a few light 
 clouds occasionally crossing the sun, chequered the hills with 
 sun and shade. I have as yet seen nothing that in pastoral beau- 
 ty can compare with its glassy winding stream, its mossy old 
 woods, and guarding hills — and the ivy-grown, castellated towers 
 embosomed in its forests, or standing on ihe banks of the Leven 
 — the purest of rivers. At a little village called Renton, is a 
 monument to Smollett, but the inhabitants seem to neglect his 
 memory, as one of the tablets on the pedestal is broken and half 
 fallen away. Further up the vale a farmer showed us an old 
 mansion in the midst of a group of trees on 1 ne bank of the Leven, 
 which he said belonged to Smollett — or Roderick Random, as he 
 called him. Two or three old pear trees were still standing 
 where the garden had formerly been, under which he was accus- 
 tomed to play in his childhood. 
 
 At the head of Leven Vale, we set off in the steamer " Water 
 Witch" over the crystal waters of Loch Lomond, passing Inch 
 Murrin, the deer-park of the Duke of Montrose, and Inch CaiU 
 lach, 
 
 " where gray pines wave 
 
 Their shadows o'er Clan Alpine's grave." 
 
16 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Under the clear sky and golden light of the declining sun, we 
 entered the Highlands, and heard on every side names we had 
 learned long ago in the lays of Scott. Here were Glen Fruin 
 and Bannochar, Ross Dhu and the pass of Beal-ma-na. Further 
 still, we passed Rob Roy's rock, where the lake is locked in by 
 lofty mountains. The cone-like peak of Ben Lomond rises far 
 above on the right, Ben Voirlich stands in front, and the jagged 
 crest of Ben Arthur looks over the shoulders of the western hills. 
 A Scotchman on board pointed out to us the remarkable places, 
 and related many interesting legends. Above Inversnaid, where 
 there is a beautiful waterfall, leaping over the rock and glancing 
 out from the overhanging birches, we passed McFarland's Island, 
 concerning the origin of which name, he gave a history. A 
 nephew of one of the old Earls of Lennox, the ruins of whose 
 castle we saw on Inch Murrin, having murdered his uncle's cook 
 in a quarrel, was obliged to flee for his life. Returning after 
 many years, he built a castle upon this island, which was always 
 after named, on account of his exile, Far-land. On a precipitous 
 point above Inversnaid, are two caves in the rock ; one near the 
 water is called Rob Roy's, though the guides generally call it 
 Bruce's also, to avoid trouble, as the real Bruce's Cave is high up 
 the hill. It is so called, because Bruce hid there one night, from 
 the pursuit of his enemies. It is related that a mountain goat, 
 who used this probably for a sleeping place, entered, trod on his 
 mantle, and aroused him. Thinking his enemies were upon him, 
 he sprang up, and saw the silly animal before him. In token of 
 gratitude for this agreeable surprise, when he became king, a law 
 was passed, declaring goats free throughout all Scotland — unpun- 
 ishable for whatever trespass they might commit, and the legend 
 further says, that not having been repealed, it continues in force 
 at the present day. 
 
 On the opposite shore of the lake is a large rock, called " Bull's 
 Rock," having a door in the side, with a stairway cut through 
 the interior to a pulpit on the top, from which the pastor at Arro- 
 quhar preaches a monthly discourse. The Gaelic legend of the 
 rock is, that it once stood near the summit of the mountain above, 
 and was very nearly balanced on the edge of a precipice. Two 
 wild bulls, fighting violently, dashed with great force against the 
 
ASCENT OF BEN LOMOND. 17 
 
 rock, which, being thrown from its balance, was tumbled down 
 the side of the mountain, till it reached its present position. The 
 Scot was speaking with great bitterness of the betrayal of Wal- 
 lace, when I asked him if it was still considered an insult to turn 
 a loaf of bread bottom upwards in the presence of a Montieth. 
 " Indeed it is, sir," said he, " I have often done it myself." 
 
 Until last May, travellers were taken no higher up the lake 
 than Rob Roy's Cave, but another boat having commenced run- 
 ning, they can now go beyond Loch Lomond, two miles up Glen 
 Falloch, to the Inn of Inverarnan, thereby visiting some of the 
 finest scenery in that part of the Highlands. It was ludicrous, 
 however, to see the steamboat on a river scarcely wider than 
 herself, in a little valley, hemmed in completely with lofty moun- 
 tains. She went on, however, pushing aside the thickets which 
 lined both banks, and I almost began to think she was going to 
 take the shore for it, when we came to a place widened out for 
 her to be turned around in ; here we jumped ashore in a green 
 meadow, on which the cool mist was beginning to descend. 
 
 When we arose in the morning, at 4 o'clock, to return with the 
 boat, the sun was already shining upon the westward hills, scarce- 
 ly a cloud was in the sky, and the air was pure and cool. To 
 our great delight Ben Lomond was unshrouded, and we were told 
 that a more favorable day for the ascent had not occurred for two 
 months. We left the boat at Rowardennan, an inn at the south- 
 ern base of Ben Lomond. After breakfasting on Loch Lomond 
 trout, I stole out to the shore while my companions were pre- 
 paring for the ascent, and made a hasty sketch of the lake. 
 
 We purposed descending on the northern side and crossing the 
 Highlands to Loch Katrine ; though it was represented as diffi- 
 cult and dangerous by the guide who wished to accompany us, 
 we determined to run the risk of being enveloped in a cloud on 
 the summit, and so set out alone, the path appearing plain before 
 us. We had no difficulty in following it up the lesser heights, 
 around the base. It wound on, over rock and bog, amonff the 
 heather and broom with which the mountain is covered, some- 
 times running up a steep acclivity, and then winding zigzag 
 round a rocky ascent. The rains two days before, had made the 
 bogs damp and muddy, but with this exception, we had little trou- 
 
18 VIEWS A. FOOT 
 
 ble tor some time. Ben Lomond is a doubly formed mountain. 
 For about three-fourths of the way there is a continued ascent, 
 when it is suddenly terminated by a large barren plain, from one 
 end of which the summit shoots up abruptly, forming at the north 
 side, a precipice 500 feet high. As we approached the summit 
 of the first part of the mountain, the way became very steep and 
 toilsome ; but the prospect, which had before been only on the 
 south side, began to open on the east, and we saw suddenly 
 spread out below us, the vale of Menteith, with " far Loch Ard 
 and Aberfoil" in the centre, and the huge front of Benvenue 
 filling up the picture. Taking courage from this, we hurried on. 
 The heather had become stunted and dwarfish, and the ground 
 was covered with short brown grass. The mountain sheep, 
 which we saw looking at us from the rock above, had worn so 
 many paths along the side, that we could not tell which to take, 
 but pushed on in the direction of the summit, till thinking it must 
 be near at hand, we found a mile and a half of plain befoie us, 
 with the top of Ben Lomond at the farther end. The plain was 
 full of wet moss, crossed in all directions by deep ravines or gul- 
 lies worn in it by the mountain rains, and the wind swept across 
 with a tempest-like force. 
 
 I met, near the base, a young gentleman from Edinburgh, who 
 had left Rowardennan before us, and we commenced ascending 
 together. It was hard work, but neither liked to stop, so we 
 climbed up to the first resting place, and found the path leading 
 along the brink of a precipice. We soon attained the summit, 
 and climbing up a little mound of earth and stones, I saw the 
 half of Scotland at a glance. The clouds hung just above the 
 mountain tops, which rose all around like the waves of a mighty 
 sea. On every side — near and far — stood their misty summits, 
 but Ben Lomond was the monarch of them all. Loch Lomond 
 lay unrolled under my feet like a beautiful map, and just oppo- 
 site, Loch Long thrust its head from between the feet of the 
 crowded hills, to catch a glimpse cf the giant. We could see 
 from Ben Nevis to Ayr — from Edinburgh to StaflTa. Stirling and 
 Edinburgh Castles would have been visible, but that the clouds 
 hung low in the valley of the Forth and hid them from our sight. 
 
 The view from Ben Lomond is nearly twice as extensive as 
 
SCENERY OF THE HIGHLANDS. 19 
 
 zhat from Catskill, being uninterrupted on every side, but it wants 
 the glorious forest scenery, clear, blue sky, and active, rejoicing 
 character of the latter. We stayed about two hours upon the 
 summit, taking refuge behind the cairn, when the wind blew 
 strong. I found the smallest of flowers under a rock, and brought 
 it away as a memento. In the middle of the precipice there is a 
 narrow ravine or rather cleft in the rock, to the bottom, from 
 whence the mountain slopes regularly but steeply down to the 
 valley. At the bottom we stopped to awake the echoes, which 
 were repeated four times ; our German companion sang the 
 Hunter's Chorus, which resounded magnificently through this 
 Highland hall. We drank from the river Forth, which starts 
 from a spring at the foot of the rock, and then commenced de- 
 scending. This was also toilsome enough. The mountain was 
 quite wet and covered with loose stones, which, dislodged by our 
 feet, went rattling down the side, oftentimes to the danger of the 
 foremost ones ; and when we had run or rather slid down the 
 three miles, to the bottom, our knees trembled so as scarcely to 
 support us. 
 
 Here, at a cottage on the farm of Coman, we procured some 
 oat cakes and milk for dinner, from an old Scotch woman, who 
 pointed out the direction of Loch Katrine, six miles distant; there 
 was no road, nor indeed a solitary dwelling between. The hills 
 were bare of trees, covered with scraggy bushes and rough heath, 
 which in some places was so thick we could scarcely drag our 
 feet through. Added to this, the ground was covered with a kind 
 of moss that retained the moisture like a sponge, so that our boots 
 ere long became thoroughly soaked. Several considerable 
 streams were rushing down the side, and many of the wild breed 
 of black Highland cattle were grazing around. After climbing 
 up and down one or two heights, occasionally startling the moor- 
 cock and ptarmigan from their heathery coverts, we saw the val- 
 ley of Loch Con ; while in the middle of the plain on the top of 
 the mountain we had ascended, was a sheet of water which we 
 took to be Loch Ackill. Two or three wild fov/1 swimmino; on 
 its surface were the only living things in sight. The peaks 
 around shut it out from all view of the world ; a single decayed 
 tree leaned over it from a mossy rock, which gave the whole 
 
20 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 scene an air of the most desolate wildness. I forget the name of 
 the lake ; but we learned afterwards that the Highlanders con- 
 sider it the abode of the fairies, or " men of peace," and that it is 
 still superstitiously shunned by them after nightfall. 
 
 From the next mountain we saw Loch Ackill and Loch Katrine 
 below, but a wet and weary descent had yet to be made. I was 
 about throwing off my knapsack on a rock, to take a sketch of 
 Loch Katrine, which appeared very beautiful from this point, 
 when we discerned a cavalcade of ponies winding along the path 
 from Inversnaid, to the head of the lake, and hastened down to 
 take the boat when they should arrive. Our haste turned out to 
 be unnecessary, however, foi they had to wait for their luggage, 
 which was long in coming. Two boatmen then offered to take 
 us for two shillings and sixpence each, with the privilege of stop- 
 ping at Ellen's Isle; the regular fare being two shillings. We 
 got in, when, after exchanging a few words in Gaelic, one of them 
 called to the travellers, of whom there were a number, to come 
 and take passage at two shillings — then at one and sixpence, and 
 finally concluded by requesting them all to step on board the 
 shilling boat! At length, having secured nine at this reduced 
 price, we pushed off; one of the passengers took the helm, and 
 the boat glided merrily over the clear water. 
 
 It appears there is some opposition among the boatmen this 
 summer, which is all the better for travelers. They are a bold 
 race, and still preserve many of the characteristics of the clan 
 from which they sprung. One of ours, who had a chieftain-like 
 look, was a MacGregor, related to Rob Roy. The fourth descend- 
 ant in a direct line, now inhabits the Rob Roy mansion, at Glen- 
 gyle, a valley at the head of the lake. A small steamboat was 
 put upon Loch Katrine a short time ago, but the boatmen, jealous 
 of this new invasion of their privilege, one night towed her out to 
 the middle of the lake and there sunk her. 
 
 Near the point of Brianchoil is a very small island with a few 
 trees upon it, of which the boatman related a story that was new 
 to me. He said an eccentric individual, many years ago, built 
 his house upon it — but it was soon beaten down by the winds and 
 waves. Having built it up with like fortune several times, he at 
 last desisted, saying, " bought wisdom was the best j" smce when 
 
LOCH KATRINE. 21 
 
 it has been called the Island of Wisdom. On the shore below, 
 the boatman showed us his cottage. The whole family were out 
 at the door to witness our progress ; he hoisted a flag, and when 
 we came opposite, they exchanged shouts in Gaelic. As our men 
 resumed their oars again, we assisted in giving three cheers, 
 which made the echoes of Benvenue ring again. Some one ob- 
 served his dog, looking after us from a projecting rock, when he 
 called out to him, " go home, you brute !" We asked him w;hy 
 he did not speak Gaelic also to his dog. 
 
 " Very few dogs, indeed," said he, " understand Gaelic, but 
 they all understand English. And we therefore all use English 
 when speaking to our dogs ; indeed, I know some persons, who 
 know nothing of English, that speak it to their dogs ! " 
 
 They then sang, in a rude manner, a Gaelic song. The only 
 word I could distinguish was Inch Caillach, the burying place of 
 Clan Alpine. They told us it was the answer of a Highland girl 
 to a foreign lord, who wished to make her his bride. Perhaps, 
 like the American Indian, she would not leave the graves of her 
 fathers. As we drew near the eastern end of the lake, the scen- 
 ery became far more beautiful. The Trosachs opened before us. 
 Ben Ledi looked down over the " forehead bare " of Ben An, and, 
 as we turned a rocky point, Ellen's Isle rose up in front. It is a 
 beautiful little turquoise in the silver setting of Loch Katrine. 
 The northern side alone is accessible, all the others being rocky 
 and perpendicular, and thickly grown with trees. We rounded 
 the island to the little bay, bordered by the silver strand, above 
 which is the rock from which Fitz-James wound his horn, and 
 shot under an ancient oak which flung its long grey arms over 
 the water; we here found a flight of rocky steps, leading to the 
 top, where stood the bower erected by Lady Willoughby D'Eres- 
 by, to correspond with Scott's description. Two or three black- 
 ened beams are all that remain of it, having been burned down 
 some years ago, by the carelessness of a traveler. 
 
 The mountains stand all around, like giants, to " sentinel this 
 enchanted land." On leaving the island, we saw the Goblin's 
 Cave, in the side of Benvenue, called by the Gaels, "Coirnan- 
 Uriskin." Near it is Beal-nam-bo, the pass of cattle, overhung 
 with grey weeping birch trees. 
 
!22 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Here the boatmen stopped to let us hear the fine echo, and the 
 names of " Rob Roy," and " Roderick Dhu," were sent back to 
 us apparently as loud as they were given. The description of 
 Scott is wonderfully exact, though the forest that feathered o'er 
 the sides of Benvenue, has since been cut down and sold by the 
 Duke of Montrose. When we reached the end of the lake it 
 commenced raining, and we hastened on through the pass of 
 Beal-an-Duine, scarcely taking time to glance at the scenery, till 
 Loch Achray appeared through the trees, and on its banks the 
 ivy-grown front of the inn of Ardcheancrochan. with its unpro- 
 nounceable name. 
 
THE BURNS FESTIVAL. 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BURNS FESTIVAL. 
 
 We passed a glorious summer morning on the banks of Loch 
 Katrine. The air was pure, fresh and balmy, and the warm 
 sunshine glowed upon forest and lake, upon dark crag and pur- 
 ple mountain-top. The lake was a scene in fairy-land. Return- 
 ing over the rugged battle-plain in the jaws of the Trosachs, we 
 passed the wild, lonely valley of Glenfinlas and Lanric Mead, 
 at the head of Loch Vennachar, rounding the foot of Ben Ledi to 
 Coilantogle Ford. We saw the desolate hills of Uam-var over 
 which the stag fled from his lair in Glenartney, and keeping on 
 through Callander, stopped for the night at a little inn on the banks 
 of the Teith. The next day we walked through Doune, over the 
 lowlands to Stirling. Crossing Allan Water and the Forth, we 
 climbed Stirling Castle and looked on the purple peaks of the 
 Ochill Mountains, the far Grampians, and the battle-fields of Ban- 
 nockburn and Sheriff Muir. Our German comrade, feeling little 
 interest in the memory of the poet-ploughman, left in the steam- 
 boat for Edinburg ; we mounted an English coach and rode to 
 Falkirk, where we took the cars for Glasgow in order to attend 
 the Burns Festival, on the 6th of August. 
 
 This was a great day for Scotland — the assembling of all 
 classes to do honor to the memory of her peasant-bard. And 
 rio-ht fitting was it, too, that such a meetinor should be held on 
 the banks of the Doon, the stream of which he has suncr so 
 sweetly, within sight of the cot where he was born, the beautiful 
 monument erected by his countrymen, and more than all, beside 
 " AUoway's witch-haunted wall !" One would think old Albyn 
 would rise up at the call, and that from the wild hunters of the 
 northern hills to the shepherds of the Cheviots, half her honest 
 yeomanry would be there, to render gratitude to the memory of 
 
24 VIEV.^S A-FOOT. 
 
 the sweet bard who was one of them, and who gave their wants 
 and their woes such eloquent utterance. 
 
 For months before had the proposition been made to hold a 
 meeting on the Doon, similar to the Shakspeare Festival on the 
 Avon, and the 10th of July was first appointed for the day, but 
 owing to the necessity of further time for preparation, it was post- 
 poned until the 6th of August. The Earl of Eglintoun was cho- 
 sen Chairman, and Professor Wilson Vice-Chairman ; in addition 
 to this, all the most eminent British authors were invited to 
 attend. A pavilion, capable of containing two thousand persons, 
 had been erected near the monument, in a large field, which 
 was thrown open to the public. Other preparations were made 
 and the meeting was expected to be of the most interesting 
 character. 
 
 When we arose it was raining, and I feared that the weather 
 might dampen somewhat the pleasures of the day, as it had done 
 to the celebrated tournament at Eglintoun Castle. We reached 
 the station in time for the first train, and sped in the face of the 
 wind over the plains of Ayrshire, which, under such a gloomy 
 sky, looked most desolate. We ran some distance along the 
 coast, having a view of the Hills of Arran, and reached Ayr 
 about nine o'clock. We came first to the New Bridge, which 
 had a triumphal arch in the middle, and the lines, from the 
 " Twa Brigs of Ayr:' 
 
 " Will your poor narrow foot-path of a street, 
 Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet, 
 Your ruin'd, formless bulk o' stane and lime, 
 Compare wP bonnie brigs o' modern time ?" 
 
 While on the arch of the 'old brig' was the reply: 
 
 '•I'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless stane." 
 
 As we advanced into the town, the decorations became more 
 frequent. The streets were crowded with people carrying ban- 
 ners and wreaths, many of the houses were adorned with green 
 boughs and the vessels in the harbor hung out all their flags. We 
 saw the Wallace Tower, a high Gothic building, having in front 
 a statue of Wallace leaning on his sword, by Thom, a native of 
 A^yr, and on our way to the green, where the procession was to 
 
SCOTCH BEGGARS 25 
 
 assemble, passed under the triumphal arch thrown across the 
 street opposite the inn where Tarn O'Shanter caroused so long 
 with Souter Johnny. Leaving the companies to form on the long 
 meadow bordering the shore, we set out for the Doon, three miles 
 distant. Beggars were seated at regular distances along the 
 road, uttering the most dolorous whinings. Both bridges were 
 decorated in the same manner, with miserable looking objects, 
 keeping up, during the whole day, a continual lamentation. 
 Persons are prohibited from begging in England and Scotland, 
 but I suppose, this being an extraordinary day, license was given 
 them as a favor, to beg free. 1 noticed that the women, with 
 their usual kindness of heart, bestowed nearly all the alms 
 which ihese unfortunate objects received. The night before, as 
 1 was walking through the streets of Glasgow, a young man of 
 the poorer class, very scantily dressed, stepped up to me and 
 begged me to listen to him for a moment. He spoke hurriedly, 
 and agitatedly, begging me, in God s name, to give him some- 
 thing, however little. I gave him what few pence I had with 
 me, when he grasped my hand with a quick motion, saying : 
 " Sir, you little think how much you have done for me." I was 
 about to inquire more particularly into his situation, but he had 
 disappeared among the crowd. 
 
 We passed the " cairn where hunters found the murdered 
 bairn," along a pleasant road to the Burns cottage, where it was 
 spanned by a magnificent triumphal arch of evergreens and flow- 
 ers. To the disgrace of Scotland, this neat little thatched cot, 
 where Burns passed the first seven years of his life, is now occu- 
 pied by somebody, who has stuck up a sign over the door, 
 ^^ licensed to retail spirits, to he drunk on the premises ;'' and ac- 
 cordingly the rooms were crowded full of people, all drinking. 
 There was a fine original portrait of Burns in one room, and in 
 the old fashioned kitchen we saw the recess where' he was born. 
 The hostess looked towards us as if to inquire what we would 
 drink, and I hastened away — there was profanity in the thought. 
 But by this time, the bell of Old Alloway, which still hangs in 
 its accustomed place, though the walls only are left, began toll- 
 ing, and we obeyed the call. The attachment of the people for 
 this bell, is so great, that a short time ago, when it was ordered 
 
 3 
 
26 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 to be removed, the inhabitants rose en masse, and prevented it. 
 The ruin, which is close by the road, stands in the middle of the 
 church-yard, and the first thing I saw, on going in the gate, was 
 the tomb of the father of Burns. I looked in the old window, 
 but the interior was filled with rank weeds, and overshadowed 
 by a young tree, which had grown nearly to the eaves. 
 
 The crowd was now fast gathering in the large field, in the 
 midst of which the pavilion was situated. We went down by the 
 beautiful monument to Burns, to the " Auld Brig o' Doon," 
 which was spanned by an arch of evergreens, containing a repre- 
 sentation of Tam O'Shanter and his grey mare, pursued by the 
 witches. It had been arranged that the procession was to pass 
 over the old and new bridges, and from thence by a temporary 
 bridge over the hedge into the field. At this latter place a stand 
 was erected for the sons of Burns, the officers of the day, and dis- 
 tinguished guests. Here was a beautiful specimen of English 
 exclusiveness. The space adjoining the pavilion was fenced 
 around, and admittance denied at first to any, except those who 
 had tickets for the dinner, which, the price being fifteen shillings, 
 entirely prevented the humble laborers, who, more than all, should 
 participate on the occasion, from witnessing the review of the pro- 
 cession by the sons of Burns, and hearing the eloquent speeches 
 of Professor Wilson and Lord Eglintoun. Thus, of the many thou- 
 sands who were in the field, but a few hundred who were crowded 
 between the bridge and the railing around the pavilion, enjoyed 
 the interesting spectacle. By good fortune, I obtained a stand, 
 where I had an excellent view of the scene. The sons of Burns 
 were in the middle of the platform, with Eglintoun on the right, 
 and Wilson on their left. Mrs. Begg, sister of the Poet, with her 
 daughters, stood by the Countess of Eglintoun. She was a plain, 
 benevolent looking woman, dressed in black, and appearing still 
 active and vigorous, though she is upwards of eighty years old. 
 She bears some likeness, especially in the expression of her eye, 
 to the Poet. Robert Burns, the oldest son, appeared to me to have 
 ,a strong resemblance of his father, and it is said he is the only 
 one who remembers his face. He has for a long time had an 
 office under Government, in London. The others have but lately 
 returned from a residence of twenty years in India. Professor 
 
THE PROCESSION. 27 
 
 Wilson appeared to enter into the spirit of the scene better than 
 any of them. He shouted and waved his hat, and, with his fine, 
 broad forehead, his long brown locks already mixed with gray, 
 streaming over his shoulders, and that eagle eye glancing over 
 the vast assemblage, seemed a real Christopher North, yet full of 
 the fire and vigor of youth — "a gray-haired, happy boy !" 
 
 About half of the procession consisted of lodges of masons, all 
 of whom turned out on the occasion, as Burns was one of the fra- 
 ternity. I was most interested in several companies of shepherds, 
 from the hills, with their crooks and plaids ; a body of archers in 
 Lincoln green, with a handsome chief at their head, and some 
 Highlanders in their most picturesque of costumes. As one of 
 the companies, which carried a mammoth thistle in a box, came 
 near the platform, Wilson snatched a branch, regardless of its 
 pricks, and placed it on his coat. After this pageant, which could 
 not have been much less than three miles long, had passed, a band 
 was stationed on the platform in the centre of the field, around 
 which it formed in a circle, and the whole company sang, "Ye 
 Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon." Just at this time, a person 
 dressed to represent Tam O'Shanter, mounted on a gray mare, 
 issued from a field near the Burns Pvlonument and rode along 
 towards AUoway Kirk, from which, when he approached it, a 
 whole legion of witches sallied out and commenced a hot pur- 
 suit. They turned back, however, at the keystone of the bridge, 
 the witch with the "cutty sark" holding up in triumph the ab- 
 stracted tail of Maggie. Soon after this the company entered the 
 pavilion, and the thousands outside were entertained, as an espe- 
 cial favor, by the band of the 87th Regiment, while from the 
 many liquor booths around the field, they could enjoy themselves 
 in another way. 
 
 We went up to the Monument, which was of more particular 
 interest to us, from the relics within, but admission was denied to 
 all. Many persons were collected around the gate, some of whom, 
 having come from a great distance, were anxious to see it ; but 
 the keeper only said, such were the orders and he could not dis- 
 obey them. Among the crowd, a grandson of the original Tam 
 O'Shanter was shown to us. He was a raw-looking boy of nine- 
 teen or twenty, wearing a shepherd's cop and jacket, and mutter- 
 
28 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ed his disapprobation very decidedly, at not being able to visit the 
 Monument. 
 
 There were one or two showers during the day, and the sky, 
 all the time, was dark and lowering, which was unfavorable for 
 the celebration ; but all were glad enough that the rain kept 
 aloof till the ceremonies were nearly over. The speeches deliv- 
 ered at the dinner, which appeared in the papers next morning, 
 are undoubtedly very eloquent. I noticed in the remarks of 
 Robert Burns, in reply to Professor Wilson, an acknowledgment 
 which the other speakers forgot. He said, " The Sons of Burns 
 have grateful hearts, and to the last hour of their existence, they 
 will remember the honor that has been paid them this day, by the 
 noble, the lovely and the talented, of their native land — by men 
 of genius and kindred spirit from our sister land — and lastly, 
 they owe their thanks to the inhabitants of the far distant west, a 
 country of a great, free, and kindred people ! (loud cheers.)" In 
 connexion with this subject, I saw an anecdote of the Poet, yes- 
 terday, which is not generally known. During his connexion 
 with the Excise, he was one day at a parly, where the health of 
 Pitt, then minister, was proposed, as " his master and theirs." 
 He immediately turned down his glass and said, " I will give you 
 *he health of a far greater and better man — George Wash- 
 ington ! " 
 
 We left the field early and went back through the muddy 
 streets of Ayr. The street before the railway office was crowded, 
 and there was so dense a mass of people on the steps, that it 
 seemed almost impossible to get near. Seeing no other chance, 
 I managed to take my stand on the lowest steps, where the pres- 
 sure of the crowd behind and the working of the throng on the 
 steps, raised me off my feet, and in about a quarter of an hour car- 
 ried me, compressed into the smallest possible space, up the steps 
 to the door, where the crowd burst in by fits, like water rushing 
 out of a bottle. We esteemed ourselves fortunate in getting 
 room to stand in an open car, where, after a two hours' ride 
 through the wind and pelting rain, we arrived at Glasgow. 
 
EDINBURG. 29 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WALK FROM EDINBURG O ""ER THE BORDER AND ARRiVAL AT 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 We left Glasgow on the morning after returning from the 
 Burns Festival, taking passage in the open cars for Edinburg, for 
 six shillings. On leaving the depot, we plunged into the heart 
 of the hill on which Glasgow Cathedral stands and were whisked 
 through darkness and sulphury smoke to daylight again. The 
 cars bore us past a spur of the Highlands, through a beautiful 
 country where women were at work in the fields, to Linlithgow, 
 the birth-place of Queen Mary. The majestic ruins of its once- 
 proud palace, stand on a green meadow behind the town. In 
 another hour we were walking through Edinburg, admiring its 
 palace-like edifices, and stopping every few minutes to gaze up 
 at some lofty monument. Really, thought I, we call Baltimore 
 the " Monumental City" for its two marble columns, and here 
 is Edinburg with one at every street-corner ! These, too, not in 
 the midst of glaring red buildings, where they seem to have 
 been accidentally dropped, but framed in by lofty granite man- 
 sions, whose long vistas make an appropriate background to the 
 picture. 
 
 We looked from Calton Hill on Salisbury Crags and over the 
 Frith of Forth, then descended to dark old Holyrood, where the 
 memory of lovely Mary lingers like a stray sunbeam in her cold 
 halls, and the fair, boyish face of Rizzio looks down from the 
 canvass on the armor of his murderer. We threaded the Ca- 
 nongate and climbed to the Castle ; and finally, after a day and 
 a half's sojourn, buckled on our knapsacks and marched out 
 of the Northern Athens. In a short time the tall spire of Dal- 
 keith appeared above the green wood, and we saw to the right, 
 perched on the steep banks of the Esk, the picturesque cottage of 
 
30 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Hawthornden, where Drummond once lived in poetic solitude. 
 VVe made haste to cross the dreary waste of the Muirfoot Hills 
 before nightfall, from the highest summit of which we took a 
 last view of Edinburg Castle and the Salisbury Crags, then blue 
 in the distance. Far to the east were the hills of Lammermuir 
 and the country of Mid-Lothian lay before us. It was all Scott- 
 land. The inn of Torsonce, beside the Gala Water, was our 
 resting-place for the night. As we approached Galashiels the 
 next morning, where the bed of the silver Gala is nearly emptied 
 by a number of dingy manufactories, the hills opened, disclosing 
 the sweet vale of the Tweed, guarded by the triple peak of the 
 Eildon, at whose base lay nestled the village of Melrose. 
 
 I stopped at a bookstore to purchase a view of the Abbey ; to 
 my surprise nearly half the works were by American authors. 
 There were Bryant, Longfellow, Channing, Emerson, Dana, 
 Ware and many others. The bookseller told me he had sold 
 more of Ware's Letters than any other book in his store, " and 
 also," to use his own words, " an immense number of the great 
 Dr. Channing." I have seen English editions of Percival, Willis, 
 Whittier and Mrs. Sigourney, but Bancroft and Prescott are 
 clasgsd amono^ the '•' standard British historians." 
 
 Crossing the Gala we ascended a hill on the road to Selkirk, 
 and behold ! the Tweed ran below, and opposite, in the midst 
 of em.bowering trees planted by the hand of Scott, rose the grey 
 halls of Abbotsford. We went down a lane to the banks of the 
 
 swift stream, but finding no ferry, B and I, as it looked very 
 
 shallow, thought we might save a long walk by wading across. 
 
 F preferred hunting for a boat ; we two set out together, 
 
 with our knapsacks on our backs, and our boots in our hands. 
 The current was ice-cold and very swift, and as the bed was 
 covered with loose stones, it required the greatest care to stand 
 upright. Looking at the bottom, through the rapid water, made 
 my head so giddy, I was forced to stop and shut my eyes ; my 
 friend, who had firmer nerves, went plunging on to a deeper and 
 swifter part, where the strength of the current made him stagger 
 -very unpleasantly. I called to him to return ; the next thing I 
 'saw, he gave a plunge and went down to the shoulder in the cold 
 flood. While he was struggling with a frightened expression of 
 
ABBOTSFORD. 31 
 
 face to recover his footing, I leaned on my staff and laughed till 
 I was on the point of falling also. To crown our mortification, 
 
 F had found a ferry a few yards higher up and was on the 
 
 opposite shore, watching us wade back again, my friend with 
 dripping clothes and boots full of water. I could not forgive the 
 pretty Scotch damsel who rowed us across, the mischievous lurk- 
 ing smile which told that she too had witnessed the adventure. 
 
 We found a foot-path on the other side, which led through a 
 young forest to Abbotsford. Rude pieces of sculpture, taken 
 from Melrose Abbey, were scattered around the gate, some half 
 buried in the earth and overgrown with weeds. The niches in 
 the walls were filled with pieces of sculpture, and an antique 
 marble greyhound reposed in the middle of the court yard. We 
 rang the bell in an outer vestibule, ornamented with several pairs 
 of antlers, when a lady appeared, who, from her appearance, I 
 have no doubt was Mrs. Ormand, the " Duenna of Abbotsford," 
 so humorously described by D'Arlincourt, in his " Three King, 
 doms." She ushered us into the entrance hall, which has a mag- 
 nificent ceiling of carved oak and is lighted by lofty stained win- 
 dows. An effigy of a knight in armor stood at either end, one 
 holding a huge two-handed sword found on Bosworth Field ; the 
 walls were covered with helmets and breastplates of the olden 
 time. 
 
 Among the curiosities in the Armory are Napoleon's pistols, 
 the blunderbuss of Hofer, Rob Roy's purse and gun, and the 
 offering box of Queen Mary. Through the folding doors between 
 the dining-room, drawing-room and library, is a fine vista, tet 
 minated by a niche, in which stands Chantrey's bust of Scott. 
 The ceilings are of carved Scottish oak and the doors of Ameri- 
 can cedar. Adjoining the library is his study, the walls of which 
 are covered with books ; the doors and windows are double, to 
 render it quiet and undisturbed. His books and inkstand are on 
 the table and his writing-chair stands before it, as if he had left 
 them but a moment before. In a little closet adjoining, where he 
 kept his private manuscripts, are the clothes he last wore, his 
 cane and belt, to which a hammer and small axe are attached, 
 and his sword. A narrow staircase led from the study to his 
 sleeping room above, by which he could come down at night and 
 
32 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 work while his family slept. The silence about the place is sol- 
 emn and breathless, as if it waited to be broken by his returning 
 footstep. I felt an awe in treading these lonely halls, like that 
 which impressed me before the grave of Washington — a feeling 
 that hallowed the spot, as if there yet lingered a low vibration 
 of the lyre, though the minstrel had departed forever ! 
 
 Plucking a wild rose that grew near the walls, I left Abbots- 
 ford, embosomed among the trees, and turned into a green lane 
 that led down to Melrose. We went immediately to the Abbey, 
 in the lower part of the village, near the Tweed. As I ap- 
 proached the gate, the porteress came out, and having scruti- 
 nized me rather sharply, asked my name. I told her ; — " well," 
 she added, " there is a prospect here for you." Thinking she 
 alluded to the ruin, I replied : " Yes, the view is certainly very 
 fine." " Oh ! I don't mean that," she replied, " a young gentle- 
 man left a prospect here for you !" — whereupon she brought out a 
 spy-glass, which I recognized as one that our German comrade had 
 given to me. He had gone on, and hoped to meet us at Jedburgh. 
 
 Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic architec- 
 ture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the cloister 
 arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the two windows 
 — the south and east oriels — are of a lightness and grace of exe- 
 cution really surprising. We saw the tomb of Michael Scott, 
 of King Alexander II, and that of the Douglas, marked with a 
 sword. The heart of Bruce is supposed to have been buried be- 
 neath the high altar. The chancel is all open to the sky, and 
 rooks build their nests among the wild ivy that climbs over the 
 crumbling arches. One of these came tamely down and perched 
 upon the hand of our fair guide. By a winding stair in one of 
 the towers we mounted to the top of the arch and looked down 
 on the grassy floor. I sat on the broken pillar, which Scott al- 
 ways used for a seat when he visited the Abbey, and read the 
 disinterring of the magic book, in the "Lay of the Last Min- 
 strel." I never comprehended its full beauty till then ; the 
 memory of Melrose will give it a thrilling interest, in the future. 
 When we left, I was willing to say, with the Minstrel : 
 
 " Was never scene so sad and fair I" 
 
CROSSING THE CHEVIOTS. 32 
 
 After seeing the home and favorite haunt of Scott, we felt a 
 wish to stand by his grave, but we had Ancrum Moor to pass be- 
 fore night, and the Tweed was between us and Dry burgh Abbey. 
 We did not wish to try another watery adventure, and therefore 
 walked on to the village of Ancrum, where a gate-keeper on the 
 road gave us lodging and good fare, for a moderate price. Many 
 o^this class practise this double employment, and the economical 
 traveller, who looks more to comfort than luxury, will not fail to 
 patronize them. 
 
 Next morning we took a foot-path over the hills to Jedburgh. 
 From the summit there was a lovely view of the valley of the 
 Teviot, with the blue Cheviots in the distance. I thought of 
 Pringle's beautiful farewell : 
 
 " Our native land, our native vale, 
 A long, a last adieu, 
 Farewell to bonny Teviot-dale, 
 And Cheviot's mountains blue !" 
 
 The poet was born in the valley below, and one that looks upon 
 its beauty cannot wonder how his heart clung to the scenes he 
 was leaving. We saw Jedburgh and its majestic old Abbey, and 
 ascended the valley of the Jed towards the Cheviots. The hills, 
 covered with woods of a richness and even gorgeous beauty of 
 foliage, shut out this lovely glen completely from the world. I 
 found myself continually coveting the lonely dwellings that were 
 perched on the rocky heights, or nestled, like a fairy pavilion, in 
 the lap of a grove. These forests formerly furnished the wood 
 for the celebrated Jedwood axe, used in the Border forays. 
 
 As we continued ascending, the prospect behind us widened, 
 till we reached the summit of the Carter Fell, whence there is a 
 view of great extent and beauty. The Eildon Hills, though 
 twenty-five miles distant, seemed in the foreground of the picture. 
 With a glass, Edinburgh Castle might be seen over the dim out- 
 line of the Muirfoot Hills. After crossing the border, we passed 
 the scene of the encounter between Percy and Douglass, cele. 
 brated in "Chevy Chase," and at the lonely inn of Whitelee, in 
 the valley below, took up our quarters for the night. 
 
 Travellers have described the Cheviots as being bleak and un 
 
S4 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 interesting. Although they are bare and brown, to me the scen- 
 ery was of a character of beauty entirely original. They are 
 not rugged and broken like the Highlands, but lift their round 
 backs gracefully from the plain, while the more distant ranges 
 are clad in many an airy hue. Willis quaintly and truly re- 
 marks, that travellers only tell you the picture produced in their 
 own brain by what they see, otherwise the world would be like a 
 pawnbroker's shop, where each traveller wears the cast-off clothes 
 of others. Therefore let no one, of a gloomy temperament, jour- 
 neying over the Cheviots in dull November, arraign me for hav- 
 ing falsely praised their beauty. 
 
 I was somewhat amused with seeing a splendid carriage with 
 footmen and outriders, crossing the mountain, the glorious land- 
 scape full in view, containing a richly dressed lady, fast asleep! 
 It is no uncommon thing to meet carriages in the Highlands, 
 in which the occupants are comfortably reading, while being 
 whirled through the finest scenery. And aj9ropo5 of this subject, 
 my German friend related to me an incident. His brother was 
 travelling on the Rhine, and when in the midst of the grandest 
 scenes, met a carriage containing an English gentleman and lady, 
 both asleep, while on the seat behind was stationed an artist, 
 sketching away with all his might. He asked the latter the rea- 
 son of his industry, when he answered, " Oh ! my lord wishes to 
 see every night what he has passed during the day, and so I 
 sketch as we go along !" 
 
 The hills, particularly on the English side, are covered with 
 flocks of sheep, and lazy shepherds lay basking in the sun, among 
 the purple heather, with their shaggy black dogs beside them. On 
 many of the hills are landmarks, by which, when the snow has 
 covered all the tracks, they can direct their way. After walking 
 many miles through green valleys, down which flowed the Red 
 Water, its very name telling of the conflicts which had crimsoned 
 its tide, we came to the moors, and ten miles of blacker, drearier 
 waste I never saw. Before entering them we passed the pretty 
 little village of Otterburn, near the scene of the battle. I brought 
 away a wild flower that grew on soil enriched by the blood of the 
 Percys. On the village inn, is their ancient coat of arms, a lion 
 rampant, on a field of gold, with the motto, " Esperance en Dieu.'' 
 
ROMAN RUINS IN NEWCASTLE. 35 
 
 Scarcely a house or a tree enlivened the black waste, and even the 
 road was marked on each side by high poles, to direct the travel- 
 ler in winter. We were glad when at length the green fields came 
 again in sight, and the little village of Whelpington Knowes, with 
 its old ivy-grown church tower, welcomed us after the lonely walk. 
 
 As one specimen of the intelligence of this part of England, we 
 saw a board conspicuously posted at the commencement of a pri- 
 vate road, declaring that " all persons travelling this way will be 
 persecuted.^' As it led to a church, however, there may have 
 been a design in the expression. 
 
 On the fifth day after leaving Edinburgh, we reached a hill, 
 overlooking the valley of the Tyne and the German Ocean, as 
 sunset was reddening in the west. A cloud of coal-smoke made 
 us aware of the vicinity of Newcastle. On the summit of the 
 hill a large cattle fair was being held, and crowds of people were 
 gathered in and around a camp of gaudily decorated tents. Fires 
 v^ere kindled here and there, and drinking, carousing and horse- 
 racing were flourishing in full vigor. 
 
 We set out one morning to hunt the Roman Wall. Passing 
 the fine buildings in the centre of the city and the lofty monu- 
 ment to Earl Grey, we went towards the western gate and soon 
 came to the ruins of a building, about whose origin there could 
 be no doubt. It stood there, blackened by the rust of ages, a 
 remnant of power passed away. There was no mistaking the 
 massive round tower, with its projecting ornaments, such as are 
 often seen in the ruder works of the Romans. On each side a 
 fragment of wall remained standing, and there appeared to be a 
 chamber in the interior, which was choked up with rubbish.. 
 There is another tower, much higher, in a public square in an- 
 other part of the city, a portion of which is fitted up as a dwelling 
 for the family which takes care of it ; but there was such a ridi- 
 culous contrast between the ivy-grown top, and the handsome 
 modern windows and doors of the lower story, that it did not 
 impress me half as much as the other, with all its neglect. 
 These are the farthest limits of that power whose mighty works 
 I hope hereafter to view at the seat of her grandeur and glory. 
 
 I witnessed a scene at Newcastle that cannot soon be forgotten ; 
 as it showed more plainly than I had before an opportunity of 
 
36 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 observing, the state to which the laboring classes of England are 
 reduced. Hearing singing in the street, under my window, one 
 morning, I looked out and saw a body of men, apparently of the 
 lower class, but decent and sober looking, who were singing in a 
 rude and plaintive strain some ballad, the purport of which I 
 could not understand. On making inquir}^, I discovered it was 
 part of a body of miners, who, about eighteen weeks before, in 
 consequence of not being able to support their families with the 
 small pittance allowed them, had " struck" for higher wages. 
 This their employers refused to give them, and sent to Wales, 
 where they obtained workmen at the former price. The houses 
 these laborers had occupied were all taken from them, and for 
 eighteen weeks they had no other means of subsistence than the 
 casual charity given them for singing the story of their wrongs. 
 It made my blood boil to hear those tones, wrung from the heart 
 of poverty by the hand of tyranny. The ignorance, permitted 
 by the government, causes an unheard amount of misery and de- 
 gradation. We heard afterwards in the streets, another company 
 who played on musical instruments. Beneath the proud swell of 
 England's martial airs, there sounded to my ears a tone whose 
 gathering murmur will make itself heard ere long by the dull 
 ears of Power. 
 
 At last at the appointed time, we found ourselves on board the 
 " London Merchant," in the muddy Tyne, waiting for the tide to 
 rise high enough to permit us to descend the river. There is 
 great competition among the steamboats this summer, and the 
 price of passage to London is reduced to five and ten shillings. 
 The second cabin, however, is a place of tolerable comfort, and 
 as the steward had promised to keep berths for us, we engaged 
 passage. Following the windings of the narrow river, we passed 
 Sunderland and Tynemouth, where it expands into the German 
 Ocean. The water was barely stirred by a gentle wind, and 
 little resembled the stormy sea I expected to find it. We glided 
 over the smooth surface, watching the blue line of the distant 
 shore till dark, when I went below expecting to enjoy a few hours' 
 oblivion. But the faithless steward had given up the promised 
 berth to another, and it was only with difficulty that I secured a 
 seat by the cabin table, where I dozed half the night with my 
 
ARRIVAL AT LONDON. 57 
 
 head on my arms. It grew at last too close and wearisome ; I 
 went up on deck and lay down on the windlass, taking care to 
 balance myself well before goin^ to sleep. The earliest light of 
 dawn awoke me to a consciousness of damp clothes and bruiseo 
 limbs. We were in sight of the low shore the whole day. some- 
 times seeing the dim outline of a church, or group of trees over 
 the downs or flat beds of sand, which border the eastern coast of 
 England. About dark, the red light of the Nore was seen, and 
 we hoped before many hours to be in London. The lights of 
 Gravesend were passed, but about ten o'clock, as we entered the 
 narrow channel of the Thames, we struck another steamboat m 
 the darkness, and were obliged to cast anchor for some time. 
 When I went on deck in the gray light of morning again, we 
 were gliding up a narrow, muddy river, between rows of gloomy 
 buildings, with many vessels lying at anchor. It grew lighter, 
 till, as we turned a point, right before me lay a vast crowd of 
 vessels, and in the distance, above the wilderness of buildings, 
 stood a dim, gigantic dome in the sky ; what a bound my heart 
 gave at the sight ! And the tall pillar that stood near it — I did 
 not need a second glance to recognize the Monument- I knew 
 the majestic bridge that spanned the river above ; but on the right 
 bank stood a cluster of massive buildings, crowned with many a 
 turret, that attracted my eye. A crowd of old associations pressed 
 bewilderingly upon the mind, to see standing there, grim and dark 
 with many a bloody page of England's history — the Tower of 
 London ! The morning sky was as yet but faintly obscured by 
 the coal-smoke, and in the misty light of coming sunrise, all 
 objects seemed grander than their wont. In spite of the thrilling 
 interest of the scene, I could not help thinking of Byron's ludi- 
 crous but most expressive description : 
 
 " A miglity mass of brick and smoke and skipping, 
 
 Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye 
 Can reach ; with here and there a sail just skipping 
 
 In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
 Of masts ; a wilderness of steeples peeping 
 
 On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy ; 
 A huge dun cupola, like a foors-cap crown 
 On a fool's head, — and there is London town." 
 
3S VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SOME OF THE " SIGHlTs" OF LONDON. 
 
 In the course of time we came to anchor in the stream ; skiffs 
 fiom the shore pulled alongside, and after some little quarrelling, 
 we were safely deposited in one, with a party who desired to be 
 landed at the Tower Stairs. The dark walls frowned above us 
 as we mounted from the water and passed into an open square 
 on the outside of the moat. The laborers were about commenc- 
 ing work, the fashionable day having just closed, but there was 
 still noise and bustle enough in the streets, particularly when we 
 reached Whitechapel, part of the great thoroughfare, extending 
 through the heart of London to Westminster Abbey and the Par- 
 liament buildings. Further on, through Leadenhall street and 
 Fleet street — what a world ! Here come the ever-thronging, 
 ever-rolling waves of life, pressing and whirling on in their tu- 
 multuous career. Here day and night pours the stream of hu- 
 man beings, seeming amid the roar and din and clatter of the 
 passing vehicles, like the tide of some great combat. How lonely 
 it makes one to stand still and feel that of all the mighty throng 
 which divides itself around him, not a being knows or cares for 
 him ! What knows he too of the thousands who pass him by ? 
 How many who bear the impress of godlike virtue, or hide beneath 
 a goodly countenance a heart black with crime ? How many fiery 
 spirits, all glowing with hope for the yet unclouded future, or 
 brooding over a darkened and desolate past in the agony of des- 
 pair ? There is a sublimity in this human Niagara that makes 
 one look on his own race with somethinij of awe. 
 
 We walked down the Thames, through the narrow streets of 
 Wapping. Over the mouth of the Tunnel is a large circular 
 building, with a dome to light the entrance below. Paying the 
 fee of a penny, we descended by a winding staircase to the bot- 
 
THE TUNNEL AND ST. PAULS. 39 
 
 torn, which is seventy-three feet belovv the surface. The car- 
 riage-way, still unfinished, will extend further into the city. 
 From the bottom the view of the two arches of the Tunnel, bril- 
 liantly lighted with gas, is very fine ; it has a much less heavv 
 and gloomy appearance than 1 expected. As we walked along 
 under the bed of the river, two or three girls at one end began 
 playing on the French horn and bugle, and the echoes, when not 
 too deep to confuse the melody, were remarkably beautiful. Be- 
 tween the arches of the division separating the two passages, are 
 shops, occupied by venders of fancy articles, views of the Tun- 
 nel, engravings, &c. In the middle is a small printing press, 
 \yhere a sheet containing a description of the whole work is print- 
 ed for those who desire it. As 1 was no stranger to this art, I 
 requested the boy to let me print one myself, but he had such » 
 bad roller I did not succeed in getting a good impression. Tha 
 air within is somewhat damp, but fresh and agreeably cool, and 
 one can scarcely realize in walking along the light passage, that 
 a river is rolling above his head. The immense solidity and 
 compactness of the structure precludes the danger of accident, 
 each of the sides being arched outwards, so that the heaviest 
 pressure only strengthens the whole. It will long remain a noble 
 monument of human daring and ingenuity. 
 
 St. Paul's is on a scale of grandeur excelling every thing I 
 have yet seen. The dome seems to stand in the sky, as you look 
 up to it ; the distance from which you view it, combined with the 
 atmosphere of London, give it a dim, shadowy appearance, that 
 perfectly startles one with its immensity, 'j ne roof from which 
 the dome springs is itself as high as the spires of most other 
 churches — blackened for two hundred years with the coal-smoke 
 of London, it stands like a relic of the giant architecture of the 
 early world. The interior is what one would expect to behold, 
 after viewing the outside. A maze of grand arches on every 
 side, encompasses the dome, which you gaze up at, as at the sky ; 
 and from every pillar and wall look down the marble forms of 
 the dead. There is scarcely a vacant niche left in all this mighty 
 hall, so many are the statues that meet one on every side. With 
 the exceptions of John Howard, Sir Astley Cooper and Wren, 
 'hose monument is the church itself, they are all to military 
 
40 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 men. I thought if they had all been removed except Howard's, 
 it would better have suited such a temple, and the great soul it 
 commemorated. 
 
 I never was more impressed with the grandeur of human in- 
 vention, than when ascending the dome. I could with difficulty 
 conceive the means by which such a mighty edifice had been 
 lifted into the air. That small frame of Sir Christopher Wren 
 must have contained a mind capable of vast conceptions. The 
 dome is like the summit of a mountain ; so wide is the prospect, 
 and so great the pile upon which you stand. London lay beneath 
 us, like an ant-hill, with the black insects swarming to and fro in 
 their long avenues, the sound of their employments coming up 
 like the roar of the sea. A cloud of coal-smoke hung over it, 
 through which many a pointed spire was thrust up ; sometimes 
 the wind would blow it aside for a moment, and the thousands of 
 red roofs would shine out clearer. The bridged Thames, covered 
 with craft of all sizes, wound beneath us like a ringed and spotted 
 serpent. The scene was like an immense circular picture in 
 the blue frame of the hills around. 
 
 Continuing our way up Fleet street, which, notwithstanding 
 the gaiety of its shops and its constant bustle, has an antique ap- 
 pearance, we came to the Temple Bar, the western boundary of 
 the ancient city. In the inside of the middle arch, the old gates 
 are still standing. From this point we entered the new portion 
 of the city, which wore an air of increasing splendor as we ad- 
 vanced. The appearance of the Strand and Trafalgar Square is 
 truly magnificent. Fancy every house in Broadway a store, 
 all built of light granite, the Park stripped of all its trees and 
 paved with granite, and a lofty column in the centre, double the 
 crowd and the tumult of business, and you will have some idea 
 of the view. 
 
 It was a relief to get into St. James's Park, among the trees 
 and flowers again. Here, beautiful winding walks led around 
 little lakes, in which were hundreds of water-fowl, swimming. 
 Groups of merry children were sporting on the green lawn, 
 enjoying their privilege of roaming every where at will, while 
 the older bipeds were confined to the regular walks. At the 
 western end stood Buckingliam Palace, looking over the trees 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 41 
 
 towards St. Paul's ; through the grove on the eminence above, 
 the towers of St. James's could be seen. But there was a dim 
 building, with two lofty square towers, decorated with a profusion 
 of pointed Gothic pinnacles, that I looked at with more interest 
 than these appendages of royalty. I could not linger long in its 
 vicinity, but going back again by the Horse Guards, took the 
 road to Westminster Abbey. 
 
 We approached by the general entrance, Poet's Corner. I 
 hardly stopped to look at the elaborate exterior of Henry Vllth's 
 Chapel, but passed on to the door. On entering, the first thing 
 that met my eyes were the words, " Oh rare Ben Jonson," 
 under his bust. Near by stood the monuments of Spenser and 
 Gay, and a few paces further looked down the sublime counte- 
 nance of Milton. Never was a spot so full of intense interest. 
 The light was just dim enough to give it a solemn, religious 
 appearance, making the marble forms of poets and philosophers 
 so shadowy and impressive, that I felt as if standing in their liv- 
 ing presence. Every step called up some mind linked with the 
 associations of my childhood. There was the gentle feminine 
 countenance of Thompson, and the majestic head of Dryden ; 
 Addison with his classic features, and Gray, full of the fire of 
 lofty thought. In another chamber, I paused long before the 
 ashes of Shakspeare ; and while looking at the monument of 
 Garrick, started to find that I stood upon his grave. What a 
 glorious galaxy of genius is here collected — what a constellation 
 of stars whose light is immortal ! The mind is completely fet- 
 tered by their spirit. Everything is forgotten but the mighty 
 dead, who still " rule us from their urns." 
 
 The Chapel of Henry VII., which we next entered, is one of 
 the most elaborate specimens of Gothic workmanship in the 
 world. If the first idea of the Gothic arch sprung from observ- 
 ing the forms of trees, this chapel must resemble the first concep- 
 tions of that order, for the fluted columns rise up like tall trees, 
 branching out at the top into spreading capitals covered with 
 leaves, and supporting arches of the ceiling resembling a leafy 
 roof. 
 
 The side-chapels are filled with tombs of knightly families, the 
 husband and wife lying on their backs on the tombs, with their 
 
42 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 hands clasped, while their children, about the size of dolls, are 
 kneeling around. Numberless are the Barons and Earls and 
 Dukes, whose grim effigies stare from their tombs. In opposite 
 chapels are the tombs of Mary and Elizabeth, and near the for- 
 mer that of Darnley. After having visited many of the scenes 
 of her life, it was with no ordinary emotion that I stood by the 
 sepulchre of Mary. How differently one looks upon it and 
 upon that of the proud Elizabeth ! 
 
 We descended to the Chapel of Edward the Confessor, within 
 tne splendid shrine of which repose his ashes. Here we were 
 shown the chair on which the English monarchs have been 
 crowned for several hundred years. Under the seat is the stone, 
 brought from the Abbey of Scone, whereon the Kings of Scot- 
 land were crowned. The chair is of oak, carved and hacked 
 over with names, and on the bottom some one has recorded his 
 name with the fact that he once slept in it. We sat down and 
 rested in it without ceremony. Passing along an aisle leading to 
 the grand hall, we saw the tomb of Aymer de Valence, a knight 
 of the Crusades. Near here is the hall where the Knights of 
 the order of Bath met. Over each seat their dusty banners are 
 still hanging, each with its crest, and their armor is rusting 
 upon the wall. It seemed like a banqueting hall of the olden 
 time, where the knights had left their seats for a moment vacant. 
 Entering the nave, we were lost in the wilderness of sculpture. 
 Here stood the forms of Pitt, Fox, Burke, Sheridan and Watts, 
 from the chisels of Chantry, Bacon and Westmacott. Further 
 down were Sir Isaac Newton and Sir Godfrey Kneller — opposite 
 Andre, and Paoli, the Italian, who died here in exile. How can 
 t convey an idea of the scene ? Notwithstanding all the descrip- 
 tions I had read, I was totally unprepared for the reality, nor 
 could I have anticipated the hushed and breathless interest with 
 which I paced the dim aisles, gazing, at every step, on the last 
 resting place of some great and familiar name. A place so 
 sacred to all who inherit the English tongue, is worthy of a spe- 
 cial pilgrimage across tlie deep. To those who are unable to 
 visit it, a description may be interesting ; but so far does it fall 
 short of the scene itself, that if I thought it would induce a few 
 of our wealthy idlers, or even those who, like myself, must travel 
 
THE NATIONAL GALLERY. 43 
 
 with toil and privation to come hither, I would write till the pen 
 dropped from my hand. 
 
 More than twenty grand halls of the British Museum are de- 
 voted to antiquities, and include the Elgin Marbles — the spoils of 
 the Parthenon — the Fellows Marbles, brought from the ancient 
 city of Xanthus, and Sir William Hamilton's collection of Italian 
 antiquities. It was painful to see the friezes of the Parthenon, 
 broken and defaced as they are, in such a place. Rather let 
 them moulder to dust on the ruin from which they were torn, 
 shining through the blue veil of the Grecian atmosphere, from the 
 summit of the Acropolis ! 
 
 The National Gallery, on Trafalgar Square, is open four days 
 m the week, to the public. The " Raising of Lazarus," by Se- 
 bastian del Piombo, is considered the gem of the collection, but 
 my unschooled eyes could not view it as such. It is also remark- 
 able for having been transferred from wood to canvass, without 
 injury. This delicate operation was accomplished by gluing the 
 panel on which it was painted, flat on a smooth table, and planing 
 the wood gradually away till the coat of hardened paint alone 
 remained. A proper canvass was then prepared, covered with a 
 strong cement, and laid on the back of the picture, which adhered 
 firmly to it. The owner's nerves must have had a severe trial, 
 if he had courage to watch the operation. I was enraptured with 
 Murillo's pictures of St. John and the Holy Family. St. John is 
 represented as a boy in the woods, fondling a lamb. It is a glo- 
 rious head. The dark curls cluster around his fair brow, and 
 his eyes seem already glowing with the fire of future inspiration. 
 There is an innocence, a childish sweetness of expression in the 
 countenance, which makes one love to gaze upon it. Both of 
 these paintings were constantly surrounded by ladies, and they 
 certainly deserved the preference. In the rooms devoted to Eng- 
 lish artists, there are many of the finest works of West, Reynolds, 
 Hoo-arth and Wilkie. 
 
 We spent a day in visiting the lungs of London, as the two 
 grand parks have been called. From the Strand through the 
 Regent Circus, the centre of the fashionable part of the city, we 
 passed to Piccadilly, calling on our way to see our old friends, 
 the lowas. They were at the Egyptian Hall, in connexion with 
 
44 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Catlin's Indian collection. The old braves knew us at once, 
 particularly Blister Feet, who used often to walk a line on deck 
 with me, at sea. Further along Piccadilly is Wellington's man- 
 sion of Apsley House, and nearly opposite it, in the corner of 
 Hyde Park, stands the colossal statue of Achilles, cast from can- 
 non taken at Salamanca and Vittoria. The Park resembles an 
 open common, with here and there a grove of trees, intersected 
 by carriage roads. It is like getting into the country again to be 
 out on its broad, green field, with the city seen dimly around 
 through the smoky atmosphere. We walked for a mile or two 
 along the shady avenues and over the lawns, having a view of 
 the princely terraces and gardens on one hand, and the gentle 
 outline of Primrose Hill on the other. Regent's Park itself covers 
 a space of nearly four hundred acres ! 
 
 But if London is unsurpassed in splendor, it has also its cor- 
 responding share of crime. Notwithstanding the large and effi- 
 cient body of police, who do much towards the control of vice, 
 one sees enough of degradation and brutality in a short time, to 
 make his heart sick. Even the public thoroughfares are thronged 
 at night with characters of the lowest description, and it is not 
 expedient to go through many of the narrow bye-haunts of the 
 old city in the day-time. The police, who are ever on the watch, 
 immediately seize and carry off any offender, but from the state- 
 ments of persons who have had an opportunity of observing, as 
 well as from my own slight experience, I am convinced that there 
 is an untold amount of misery and crime. London is one of the 
 wonders of the world, but there is reason to believe it is one of 
 the curses of the world also; though, in fact, nothing but an ac- 
 tive and unceasing philanthropy can prevent any city from be- 
 coming so. 
 
 Aug. 22. — I have now been six days in London, and by mak- 
 ing good use of my feet and eyes, have managed to become fa- 
 miliar with almost every object of interest within its precincts. 
 Having a plan mapped out for the day, I started from my humble 
 lodgings at the Aldgate Coffee House, where I slept off fatigue for 
 a shilling a night, and walked up Cheapside or down White- 
 chapel, as the case might be, hunting out my way to churches, 
 halls and theatres, In this way, at a trifling expense, I have 
 
FAREWELL TO LONDON. 45 
 
 perhaps seen as much as many who spend here double the time 
 and ten times the money. Our whole tour from Liverpool hither, 
 by way of Ireland and Scotland, cost us but twenty-five dollars 
 each ! although, except in one or two cases, we denied ourselves 
 no necessary comfort. This shows that the glorious privilege of 
 looking on the scenes of the old world need not be confined to peo- 
 ple of wealth and leisure. It may be enjoyed by all who can 
 occasionally forego a little bodily comfort for the sake of mental 
 and spiritual gain. We leave this afternoon for Dover. To- 
 morrow I shall dine in Belgium ! 
 
46 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FLIGHT THROUGH BELGIUM. 
 
 Bruges. — On the Continent at last! How strangely look the 
 century-old towers, antique monuments, and quaint, narrow 
 streets of the Flemish cities ! It is an agreeable and yet a pain- 
 ful sense of novelty to stand for the first time in the midst of a 
 people whose language and manners are different from one's own. 
 The old buildings around, linked with many a stirring associa- 
 tion of past history, gratify the glowing anticipations with which 
 one has looked forward to seeing them, and the fancy is busy at 
 work reconciling the real scene with the ideal ; but the want of 
 a communication with the living world about, walls one up with 
 a sense of loneliness he could not before have conceived. I envy 
 the children in the streets of Bruges their childish language. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon we came from London through the green 
 wooded lawns and vales of England, to Dover, which we reached 
 at sunset, passing by a long tunnel through the lofty Shakspeare 
 Cliff. We had barely time before it grew dark to ascend the 
 cliff. The glorious coast view looked still wilder in the gather- 
 ing twilight, which soon hid from our sight the dim hills of 
 France. On the cliff opposite frowned the massive battlements 
 of the Castle, guarding the town, which lay in a nook of the rocks 
 below. As the Ostend boat was to leave at four in the morning, 
 my cousin aroused us at three, and we felt our way down stairs 
 in the dark. But the landlord was reluctant to part with us ; we 
 stamped and shouted and rang bells, till the whole house was in 
 an uproar, for the door was double-locked, and the steamboat 
 bell began to sound. At .last he could stand it no longer ; we 
 gave a quick utterance to our overflowing wrath, and rushed 
 down to the boat but a second or two before it left. 
 
 The water of the Channel was smooth as glass and as the sun 
 
LANDING AT OSTEXD. 47 
 
 rose, the far chalky cliffs gleamed along the horizon, a belt of fire. 
 I waved a good-bye to Old England and then turned to see the 
 spires of Dunkirk, which were visible in the distance before us. 
 On the low Belgian coast we could see trees and steeples, resem- 
 bling a mirage over the level surface of the sea ; at length, about 
 ten o'clock, the square tower of Ostend came in sight. The 
 boat passed into a long muddy basin, in which many unwieldy, 
 red-sailed Dutch craft were lying, and stopped beside a high pier. 
 Here amid the confusion of three lansfuao-es, an officer came on 
 board and took charge of our passports and luggage. As we 
 could not get the former for two or three hours, we did not hurry 
 the passing of the latter, and went on shore quite unincumbered, 
 for a stroll about the city, disregarding the cries of the hackney- 
 coachmen on the pier, ^' Hotel d'Angleterre,'' *' Hotel des Bains f 
 and another who called out in English, " I recommend you to the 
 Royal Hotel, sir !" 
 
 There is little to be seen in Ostend. We wandered through 
 long rows of plain yellow houses, trying to read the French nnd 
 low Dutch signs, and at last came out on the wall near the sea. 
 A soldier motioned us back as we attempted to ascend it, and mut- 
 tering some unintelligible words, pointed to a narrow street near. 
 Following this out of curiosity, we crossed the moat and found 
 ourselves on the great bathing beach. To get out of the hands of 
 the servants who immediately surrounded us, we jumped into 
 one of the little wagons and were driven out into the surf. 
 
 To be certain of fulfilling the railroad regulations, we took our 
 seats quarter of an hour before the time. The dark walls of Os- 
 tend soon vanished and we were whirled rapidly over a country 
 perfectly level, but highly fertile and well cultivated. Occasion, 
 ally there was a ditch or row of trees, but otherwise there was no 
 division between the fields, and the plain stretched unbroken away 
 into the distance. The twenty miles to Bruges we made in forty 
 minutes. The streets of this antique city are narrow and crook- 
 ed, and the pointed, ornamented gables of the houses, produce a 
 novel impression on one who has been accustomed to the green 
 American forests. Then there was the endless sound of wooden 
 shoes clattering over the rough pavements, and people talking in 
 that most unmusical of all languages, low Dutch. Walking at 
 
48 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 random through the streets, we came by chance upon the Cathe- 
 dral of Notre Dame. I shall long remember my first impression 
 of the scene within. The lofty gothic ceiling arched far above 
 my head and through the stained windows the light came but 
 dimly — it was all still, solemn and religious. A few worshippers 
 were kneeling in silence before some of the shrines and the echo 
 of my tread seemed like a profaning sound. On every side were 
 pictures, saints and gilded shrines. A few steps removed one 
 from the bustle and din of the crowd to the stillness and solemnity 
 of the holy retreat. 
 
 We learned from the guide, whom we had engaged because he 
 spoke a few words of English, that there was still a trecksliuyt line 
 on the canals, and that one boat leaves to-night at ten o'clock for 
 Ghent. Wishing to try this old Dutch method of travelling, he 
 took us about half a mile along the Ghent road to the canal, 
 where a moderate sized boat was lying. Our baggage deposited 
 in the plainly furnished cabin, I ran back to Bruges, although it 
 was beginning to grow dark, to get a sight of the belfry ; for 
 Longfellow's lines had been running through my head all day : 
 
 " In the market place of Bruges, stands tlie belfry old and brown, 
 Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded. still it watches o'er the town.'' 
 
 And having found the square, brown tower in one corner of 
 the open market square, we waited to hear the chimes, which are 
 said to be the finest in Europe. They rang out at last with a 
 clear silvery tone, most beautifully musical indeed. We then 
 returned to the boat in the twilight. We were to leave in about 
 an hour, according to the arrangement, but as yet there was no 
 sound to be heard, and we weie the only tenants. However, 
 trusting to Dutch regularity, we went to sleep in the full confi- 
 dence of awakening in Ghent. 
 
 1 awoke once in the night and saw the dark branches of trees 
 passing before the window, but there was no perceptible sound 
 nor motion ; the boat glided along like a dream, and we were 
 awakened next morning by its striking against the pier at Ghent. 
 After paying three francs for the whole night journey, the captain 
 gave us a guide to the railroad station, and as we had nearly an 
 hour before the train left, I went to see the Cathedral of St. Bavon. 
 
RAILROAD TRAVELLING. 49 
 
 .^-^■■i I I   I— ■—         "   — .11. — -- - - _ 
 
 After leaving Ghent, the road passes through a beautiful country, 
 cultivated like a garden. The Dutch passion for flowers is dis- 
 played in the gardens around the cottages ; even every vacant 
 foot of ground along the railway is planted with roses and dahlias. 
 At Ghent, the morning being fair, we took seats in the open cars. 
 About noon it commenced raining and our situation was soon 
 anything but comfortable. My cousin had fortunately a water- 
 proof Indian blanket with him, which he had purchased in the 
 '• Far West," and by wrapping this around all three of us, we 
 kept partly dry. I was much amused at the plight of a party of 
 young Englishmen, who were in the same car ; one of them held 
 a little parasol which just covered his hat, and sent the water in 
 streams down on his back and shoulders. 
 
 We had a misty view of Liege, through the torrents of rain, 
 and then dashed away into the wild, mountain scenery of the 
 Meuse. Steep, rocky hills, covered with pine and crowned with 
 ruined towers, hemmed in the winding and swollen river, and the 
 wet, cloudy sky seemed to rest like a canopy on their summits. 
 Instead of threading their mazy defiles, we plunged directly into 
 the mountain's heart, flew over the narrow valley on lofty and 
 light-sprung arches, and went again into the darknes. At Ver- 
 viers, our baggage was weighed, examined and transferred, with 
 ourselves, to a Prussian train. There was a great deal of dis- 
 puting on the occasion. A lady, who had a dog in a large wil- 
 low basket, was not allowed to retain it, nor would they take it 
 as baggage. The matter was finally compromised by their 
 sending the basket, obliging her to carry the dog, which was 
 none of the smallest, in her arms ! The next station bore the 
 sign of the black eagle, and here our passports were obliged to 
 be given up. Advancing through long ranges of wooded hills, 
 we saw at length, in the dull twilight of a rainy day, the old 
 kingly city of Aix la Chapelle on a plain below us. After a 
 scene at the custom-house, where our baggage was reclaimed 
 with tickets given at Verviers, we drove to the Hotel du RhiUj 
 and while warming our shivering limbs and drying our damp 
 garments, felt tempted to exclaim with the old Italian author: 
 " O ! holy and miraculous tavern !" 
 
 The Cathedral with its lofty Gothic tower, was built by the 
 4 
 
60 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 emperor Otho in the tenth century. It seems at present to be 
 undergoing repairs, for a large scaffold shut out the dome. The 
 long hall was dim with incense smoke as we entered, and the 
 organ sounded through the high arches with an effect that startled 
 me. The windows glowed with the forms of kings and saints, 
 and the dusty and mouldering shrines which rose around were 
 colored with the light that came through. The music pealed out 
 like a triumphal march, sinking at times into a mournful strain, 
 as if it celebrated and lamented the heroes who slept below. In 
 the stone pavement nearly under my feet was a large square 
 marble slab, with words •' Carolo Magno." It was like a dream, 
 to stand there on the tomb of the mighty warrior, with the lofty 
 arches of the Cathedral above, filled with the sound of the divine 
 anthem. I mused above his ashes till the music ceased and then 
 left the Cathedral, that nothing might break the romantic spell 
 associated with that crumbling pile and the dead it covered. I 
 have always revered the memory of Charlemagne. He lived in 
 a stern age, but he was in mind and heart a man, and like Na- 
 poleon, who placed the iron crown which had lain with him cen- 
 turies in the tomb, upon his own brow, he had an Alpine gran- 
 deur of mind, which the world was forced to acknowledge. 
 
 At noon we took the chars-d-banc, or second-class carriages, 
 for fear of rain, and continued our journey over a plain dotted 
 with villages and old chateaux. Two or three miles from Co- 
 logne we saw the spires of the different churches, conspicuous 
 among which were the unfinished towers of the Cathedral, with 
 the enormous crane standing as it did when they left off build- 
 ing, two hundred years ago or more. On arriving, we drove to 
 the Bonn railway, where finding the last train did not leave for 
 four hours, we left our baggage and set out for the Cathedral. 
 Of all Gothic buildings, the plan of this is certainly the most 
 stupendous ; even ruin as it is, it cannot fail to excite suprise 
 and admiration. The King of Prussia has undertaken to com- 
 plete it according to the original plan, which was lately found in 
 the possession of a poor man, of whom it was purchased for 
 40,000 florins, but he has not yet finished repairing what is 
 already built. The legend concerning this plan may not be 
 known to every one. It is related of the inventor of it, that in 
 
COLOGNE CATHEDRAL. 51 
 
 ^ ' ■■■■■■-. -   - . ■■-.■■ I ..     , -., 
 
 despair of finding any sufficiently great, he was walking one day 
 by the river, sketching with his stick upon the sand, when he 
 finally hit upon one which pleased him so much that he exclaim- 
 ed : " This shall be the plan !" " I will show you a better one 
 than that !" said a voice suddenly behind him, and a certain 
 black gentleman who figures in all German legends stood by him, 
 and pulled from his pocket a roll containing the present plan of 
 the Cathedral. The architect, amazed at its grandeur, asked an 
 explanation of every part. As he knew his soul was to be the 
 price of it, he occupied himself while the devil was explaining, 
 in committing its proportions carefully to memory. Having done 
 this, he remarked that it did not please him and he would not 
 take it. The devil, seeing through the cheat, exclaimed in his 
 rage : " You may build your Cathedral according to this plan, 
 but you shall never finish it !" This prediction seems likely to 
 be verified, for though it was commenced in 1248, and built for 
 250 years, only the choir and nave and one tower to half its 
 oricrinai heio-ht, are finished. 
 
 We visited the chapel of the eleven thousand virgins, the walls 
 of which are full of curious grated cells, containing their bones, 
 and then threaded the narrow streets of Cologne, which are quite 
 dirty enough to justify Coleridge's lines : 
 
 " The river Rhine, it is well known 
 Doth wash the city of Cologne; 
 But tell me nymphs, what power divine 
 Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine !" 
 
52 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE RHINE TO HEIDELBERG. 
 
 Heidelberg, August 30. 
 
 Here at last ! and a most glorious place it is. This is our first 
 morning in our new rooms, and the sun streams warmly in the 
 eastern windows, as I write, while the old castle rises through 
 the blue vapor on the side of the Kaiser-stuhl. The Neckar 
 rushes on below ; and the Odenwald, before me, rejoices with its 
 vineyards in the morning light. The bells of the old chapel 
 near us are sounding most musically, and a confused sound of 
 voices and the rolling of vehicles comes up from the street. It is 
 a place to live in ! 
 
 I must go back five or six days and take up the record of our 
 journeyings at Bonn. We had been looking over Murray's in- 
 fallible "Handbook," and observed that he recommended the 
 " Star" hotel in that city, as " the most moderate in its prices of 
 any on the Rhine ;" so when the train from Cologne arrived and 
 we were surrounded, in the darkness and confusion, by porters 
 and valets, I sung out: '^ Hotel de VEioile d^or f^' our baggage 
 and ourselves were transferred to a stylish omnibus, and in five 
 minutes we stopped under a brilliantly-lighted archway, where Mr. 
 Joseph Schmidt received us with the usual number of smiles and 
 bows bestowed upon untitled guests. We were furnished with 
 neat rooms in the summit of the house, and then descended to 
 the salle a manger. I found a folded note by my plate, which I 
 opened — it contained an engraving of the front of the hotel, a plan 
 of the city and catalogue of its lions, together with a list of the 
 titled personages who have, from time to time, honored the 
 " Golden Star " with their custom. Among this number were 
 " Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, 
 Prince Albert," etc Had it not been for fatigue, I should have. 
 
THE RHINE. 53 
 
 spent an uneasy night, thinking of the heavy bill which was to 
 be presented on the morrow. We escaped, however, for seven 
 francs apiece, three of which were undoubtedly for the honor of 
 breathing an aristocratic atmosphere. 
 
 I was glad when we were really in motion on the swift Rhine, 
 the next morning, and nearing the chain of mountains that rose 
 up before us. We passed Godesberg on the right, while on our 
 left was the group of the seven mountains which extend back 
 from the Drachenfels to the Wolkenberg, or Castle of the Clouds. 
 Here we begin to enter the enchanted land. The Rhine sweeps 
 around the foot of the Drachenfels, while opposite the precipilou? 
 rock of Rolandseck, crowned with the castle of the faithful knight, 
 looks down upon the beautiful Island of Nonnenwerth, the white 
 walls of the convent still gleaming through the trees, as they did 
 when the warrior's weary eyes looked upon them for the last 
 time. I shall never forget the enthusiasm with which I saw this 
 scene in the bright, warm sunlight, the rough crags softened in 
 the haze which filled the atmosphere, and the wild mountains 
 springing up in the midst of vineyards, and crowned with crum- 
 bling towers, filled with the memories of a thousand years. 
 
 After passing Andernach, we saw in the distance the highlands 
 of the middle Rhine, which rise above Coblcntz, guarding the en- 
 trance to its wild scenery, and the mountains of the Moselle. 
 They parted as we approached ; from the foot shot up the spires 
 of Coblentz, and the battlements of Ehrenbreitstein crowning the 
 mountain opposite, grew larger and broader. The air was 
 slightly hazy, and the clouds seemed laboring among the distant 
 mountains to raise a storm. As we came opposite the mouth of the 
 Moselle and under the shadow of the mighty fortress, I gazed up 
 with awe at its massive walls. Apart from its magnitude and 
 almost impregnable situation on a perpendicular rock, it is filled 
 with the recollections of history and hallowed by the voice of 
 poetry. The scene went past like a panorama, the bridge of 
 boats opened, the city glided behind us and we entered the high- 
 lands again. 
 
 Above Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a legend. 
 One feels everywhere the spirit of the past, and its stirring recol- 
 lections come back upon the mind with irresistible force. I sat 
 
54 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 upon the deck the whole afternoon, as mountains, towns and cas- 
 tles passed by on either side, watching them with a feeling of the 
 most enthusiastic enjoyment. Every place was familiar to me in 
 memory, and they seemed like friends I had long communed with 
 in spirit and now met face to face. The English tourists, with 
 whom the deck was covered, seemed interested too, but in a dif- 
 ferent manner. With Murray's Handbook open in their hands, 
 they sat and read about the very towns and towers they were 
 passing, scarcely lifting their eyes to the real scenes, except now 
 and then, to observe that it was "wer// mce." 
 
 As we passed Boppart, I sought out the Inn of the " Star," 
 mentioned in " Hyperion'^ ; there was a maiden sitting on the 
 steps who might have been Paul Flemming's fair boat-woman. 
 The clouds which had here gathered among the hills, now came 
 over the river, and the rain cleared the deck of its crowd of 
 admiring tourists. As we were approaching Lurlei Berg, I did 
 not go below, and so enjoyed some of the finest scenery on the 
 Rhine alone. The mountains approach each other at this point, 
 and the Lurlei Rock rises up for six hundred feet from the 
 water. This is the haunt of the water nymph, Lurlei, whose 
 song charmed the ear of the boatman while his barque was 
 dashed to pieces on the rocks below. It is also celebrated for its 
 remarkable echo. As we passed between the rocks, a guard, 
 who has a little house built on the road-side, blew a flourish on 
 his bugle, which was instantly answered by a blast from the 
 rocky battlements of Lurlei. The German students have a witty 
 trick with this echo : they call out, " Who is the Burgomaster of 
 Oberwesel ?" a town just above. The echo answers with the 
 last syllable " Esel !" which is the German for ass. 
 
 The sun came out of the cloud as we passed Oberwesel, with 
 its tall round tower, and the light shining through the ruined 
 arches of Schonberg castle, made broad bars of light and shade 
 in the still misty air. A rainbow sprang up out of the Rhine, and 
 lay brightly on the mountain side, coloring vineyard and crag, in 
 the most singular beauty, while its second reflection faintly 
 arched like a glory above the high summits. In the bed of the 
 river were the seven countesses of Schonberg, turned into seven 
 rocks for their cruelty and hard-heartedness towards the knights 
 
FRANKFORT. 56 
 
 whom their beauty had made captive. In front, at a little dis- 
 tance was the castle of Pfalz, in the middle of the river, and from 
 the heights above Caub frowned the crumbling citadel of Guten- 
 fels. Imagine all this, and tell me if it is not a picture whose 
 memory should last a life-time ! 
 
 We came at last to Bingen, the southern gate of the Highlands. 
 Here, on an island in the middle of the stream, is the old Mouse 
 tower where Bishop Hatto of Mayence was eaten up by the rats 
 for his wicked deeds. Passing Rudesheim and Geissenheira, 
 celebrated for their wines, at sunset, we watched the varied 
 shore in the growing darkness, till like a line of stars across the 
 water, we saw before us the bridge of Mayence. 
 
 The next morning I parted from my friends, who were going 
 to Heidelberg by way of Mannheim, and set out alone for Frank- 
 fort. The cars passed through Hochheim, whose wines are cele- 
 brated all over the world ; there is little to interest the traveler 
 till he arrives at Frankfort, whose spires are seen rising from 
 groves of trees as he approaches. I left the cars, unchallenged 
 for my passport, greatly to my surprise, as it had cost me a long 
 walk and five shillings in London, to get the signature of the 
 Frankfort Consul. I learned afterwards it was not at all neces- 
 sary. Before leaving America, N. P. Willis had kindly given 
 me a letter to his brother, Richard S. Willis, who is now culti- 
 vating a naturally fine taste for music in Frankfort, and my first 
 care was to find the American Consul, in order to learn his resi- 
 dence. I discovered at last, from a gentleman who spoke a little 
 French, that the Consul's office was in the street Bellevue, which 
 street I not only looked for through the city, but crossed over the 
 bridge to the suburb of Sachsenhausen, and traversed its narrow, 
 dirty alleys three several times, but in vain. I was about giving 
 up the search, when I stumbled upon the office accidentally. The 
 name of the street had been given to me in French and very 
 naturally it was not to be found. Willis received me very 
 kindly and introduced me to the amiable German family with 
 whom he resides. 
 
 After spending a delightful evening with my newly-found 
 friends, I left the next morning in the omnibus for Fleidelberg. 
 We passed through Sachsenhausen ar.d ascended a long hill to 
 
96 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the watch-tower, whence there is a beautiful view of the Main 
 valley. Four hours' driving over the monotonous plain, brought 
 me to Darmstadt. The city wore a gay look, left by the recent 
 files. The monument of the old Duke Ludwig had just been 
 erected in the centre of the great square, and the festival attend- 
 ant upon the unveiling of it, which lasted three days, had just 
 closed. The city was hung with garlands, and the square filled 
 with the pavilions of the royal family and the musicians, of 
 whom there were a thousand present, while everywhere were 
 seen red and white flags — the colors of Darmstadt. We met 
 wagons decorated with garlands, full of pleasant ,'girls, in the 
 odd dress which they have worn for three hundred years. 
 
 After leaving Darmstadt we entered upon the Bergstrasse, or 
 Mountain-way, leading along the foot of the mountain chain 
 which extends all the way to Heidelberg on the left, while on the 
 right stretches far away the Rhine-plain, across which we saw 
 the dim outline of the Donnersberg, in France. The hills are 
 crowned with castles and their sides loaded with vines; along 
 the road the rich green foliage of the walnut trees arched and 
 nearly met above us. The sun shone warm and bright, and 
 every body appeared busy and contented and happy. All we 
 met had smiling countenances. In some places we saw whole 
 families sitting under the trees shelling the nuts they had beaten 
 down, while others were returning from the vineyards, laden with 
 baskets of purple and white grapes. The scene seemed to real- 
 ize all I had read of the happiness of the German peasantry, 
 and the pastoral beauty of the German plains. 
 
 With the passengers in the omnibus I could hold little conver- 
 sation. One, who knew about as much French as I did, asked 
 me where I came from, and I shall not soon forget his expression 
 of incredulity, as I mentioned America. " Why," said he, "you 
 are white — the Americans are all black ! " 
 
 We passed the ruined castles of Auerback and Starkenburg, 
 and Burg Windeck, on the summit of a mountain near Wein- 
 heim, formerly one of the royal residences of Charlemagne, and 
 finally came to the Heiligenberg or Holy Mountain, guarding the 
 entrance into the Odenwald by the valley of the Neckar. As we 
 wound around its base to the river, the Kaiserstuhl rose before us, 
 
ARRIVAL AT HEIDELBERG. »7 
 
 with the mighty castle hanging upon its side and Heidelberg at 
 its feet. It was a most strikingly beautiful scene, and for a mo- 
 ment I felt inclined to assent to the remark of my bad-French 
 acquaintance — " America is not beautiful — Heidelberg is beauti- 
 ful !" The sun had just set as we turned the corner of the Holy 
 Mountain and drove up the bank of the Neckar ; all the chimes 
 of Heidelberg began suddenly to ring and a cannon by the river- 
 side was fired off every minute — the sound echoing five times 
 distinctly from mountain back to mountain, and finally crashing 
 far off, alonsr the distant hills of the Odenwald. It was the birth- 
 day of the Grand Duke of Baden, and these rejoicings were for 
 the closing fHe. 
 
58 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SCENES IN AND AROUND HEIDELBERG. 
 
 Sejpt, 30. — There is so much to be seen around this beautiful 
 place, that I scarcely know where to begin a description of it. I 
 have been wandering among the wild paths that lead up and down 
 the mountain side, or away into the forests and lonely meadows 
 in the lap of the Odenwald. My mind is filled with images of 
 the romantic German scenery, whose real beauty is beginning to 
 displace the imaginary picture which I had painted with the en- 
 thusiastic words of Howitt. I seem to stand now upon the Kai- 
 ser-stuhl, which rises above Heidelberg, with that magnificent 
 landscape around me, from the Black Forest and Strasburg to 
 Mainz, and from the Vosges in France to the hills of Spessart in 
 Bavaria. What a glorious panorama ! and not less rich in asso- 
 ciations than in its natural beauty. Below me had moved the 
 barbarian hordes of old, the triumphant followers of Arminius, 
 and the Cohorts of Rome ; and later, full many a warlike host 
 bearing the banners of the red cross to the Holy Land, — many a 
 knight returning with his vassals from the field, to lay at the feet 
 of his lady-love the scarf he had worn in a hundred battles and 
 claim the reward of his constancy and devotion. But brighter 
 spirits had also toiled below. That plain had witnessed the pres- 
 ence of Luther, and a ho^t who strove with him to free the world 
 from the chains of a corrupt and oppressive religion. There had 
 also trodden the master spirits of German song — the giant twain, 
 with their scarcely less harmonious brethren : they, too, had 
 gathered inspiration from those scenes — more fervent worship of 
 nature and a deeper love for their beautiful fatherland ! Oh ! 
 what waves of crime and bloodshed have swept like the waves 
 of a deluge down the valley of the Rhine ! War has laid his 
 mailed hand on those desolate towers and ruthlessly torn down 
 
THE WOLFSBRUNNEN. 50 
 
 what time has spared, yet he could not mar the beauty of the 
 shore, nor could Time himse.f hurl down the mountains that 
 guard it. And what if I feel a new inspiration on beholding the 
 scene ? Now that those ages have swept by, like the red waves 
 of a tide of blood, we see not the darkened earth, but the golden 
 sands which the flood has left behind. Besides, I have come from 
 a new world, where the spirit of man is untrammeled by the 
 mouldering shackles of the past, but in its youthful and joyous 
 freedom, goes on to make itself a noble memory for the ages 
 that are to come ! 
 
 Then there is the Wolfsbrunnen, which one reaches by a beau- 
 tiful walk up the bank of the Neckar, to a quiet dell in the side 
 of the mountain. Through this the roads lead up by rustic mills, 
 always in motion, and orchards laden with ripening fruit, to the 
 commencement of the forest, where a quaint stone fountain stands, 
 commemorating the abode of a sorceress of the olden time, who 
 was torn in pieces by a wolf. There is a handsome rustic inn 
 here, where every Sunday afternoon a band plays in the portico, 
 while hundreds of people are scattered around in the cool shadow 
 of the trees, or feeding the splendid trout in the basin formed by 
 the little stream. They generally return to the city by another 
 walk leading along the mountain side, to the eastern terrace of the 
 castle, where they have fine views of the great Rhine plain, ter- 
 minated by the Alsatian hills, stretching along the western hori- 
 zon like the long crested swells on the ocean. We can even see 
 these from the windows of our room on the bank of the Neckar ; 
 and I often look with interest on one sharp peak, for on its side 
 stands the Castle of Trifels, where Cceur de Lion was imprisoned 
 by the Duke of Austria, and where Blondel, his faithful minstrel, 
 sang the ballad which discovered the retreat of the noble cap- 
 tive. 
 
 The people of Heidelberg are rich in places of pleasure and 
 amusement. From the Carl Platz, an open square at the upper 
 end of the city, two paths lead directly up to the castle. By the 
 first walk we ascend a flight of steps to the western gate, passing 
 through which, we enter a delightful garden, between the outer 
 walls of the Castle, and the huge moat which surrounds it. 
 Great linden, oak and beach trees shadow the walk, and in secluded 
 
60 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 nooks, little mouutain streams spring from the side of the wall 
 into stone basins. There is a tower over the moat on the south 
 side, next the mountain, where the portcullis still hangs with its 
 sharp teeth as it was last drawn up ; on each side stand two grim 
 knights guarding the entrance. In one of the wooded walks is an 
 old tree brought from America in the year 1618. It is of the 
 kind called arhor vitce, and uncommonly tall and slender for one 
 of this species ; yet it does not seem to thrive well in a foreign soil. 
 I noticed that persons had cut many slips off the lower branches, 
 and I would have been tempted to do the same myself if there had 
 been any I could reach. In the curve of the mountain is a hand- 
 some pavilion, surrounded with beds of flowers and fountains ; 
 here all classes meet together in the afternoon to sit with their re- 
 freshments in the shade, while frequently a fine band of music 
 gives them their invariable recreation. All this, with the scenery 
 around them, leaves nothing unfinished to their present enjoy- 
 ment. The Germans enjoy life under all circumstances, and in 
 this way they make themselves much happier than we, who have 
 far greater means of being so. 
 
 At the end of the terrace built for the princess Elizabeth, of 
 England, is one of the round towers, which was split in tv/ain by 
 the French. Half has fallen entirely away, and the other semi- 
 circular shell which joins the terrace and part of the Castle build- 
 ings, clings firmly together, although part of its foundation is 
 gone, so that its outer ends actually hang in the air. Some idea 
 of the strength of the castle may be obtained when I state that the 
 walls of this tower are twenty-two feet thick, and that a staircase 
 has been made through them to the top, where one can sit under 
 the lindens growing upon it, or look down from the end on the 
 city below with the pleasant consciousness that the great mass 
 upon which he stands is only prevented from crashing down with 
 him by the solidity of its masonry. On one side, joining the gar- 
 den, the statue of the Archduke Louis, in his breastplate and 
 flowing beard, looks out from among the ivy. 
 
 There is little to be seen about the Castle except the walls 
 themselves. The guide conducted us through passages, in which 
 were heaped many of the enormous cannon balls which it had re- 
 ceived in sieges, to some chambers in the foundation. This was 
 
LIFE IN HEIDELBERG. 61 
 
 the oldest part of the Castle, built in the thirteenth century. We 
 also visited the chapel, which is in a tolerable state of preserva- 
 tion. A kind of narrow bridge crosses it, over which we walked, 
 looking down on the empty pulpit and deserted shrines. We 
 then went into the cellar to see the celebrated Tun. In a large 
 vault are kept several enormous hogsheads, one of which is three 
 hundred years old, but they are nothing in comparison with the 
 tun, which itself fills a whole vault. It is as high as a common 
 two story house ; on the top is a platform upon which the people 
 used to dance after it was filled, to which one ascends by two 
 flights of steps. I forgot exactly how many casks it holds, but 
 I believe eight hundred. It has been empty for fifty years. 
 
 We are very pleasantly situated here. My friends, who arrived 
 a day before me, hired three rooms (with the assistance of a cou- 
 rier) in a large house on the banks of the Neckar. We pay for 
 them, with attendance, thirty florins — about twelve dollars — a 
 month, and Frau Dr. Grosch, our polite and talkative landlady, 
 gives us a student's breakfast — coffee and biscuit — for about seven 
 cents apiece. We are often much amused to hear her endeavors 
 to make us understand. As if to convey her meaning plainer, 
 she raises both thumbs and forefingers to her mouth and pulls 
 out the words like a long string; her tongue goes so fast that it 
 keeps my mind always on a painful stretch to comprehend an idea 
 here and there. Dr. S , from whom we take lessons in Ger- 
 man, has kindly consented to our dining with his family for the 
 sake of practice in speaking. We have taken several long walks 
 with them along the banks of the Neckar, but I should be puz- 
 zled to repeat any of the conversations that took place. The 
 language, however, is fast growing more familiar, since women 
 are the principal teachers. 
 
 Opposite my window rises the Heiligenberg, on the other side 
 of the Neckar. The lower part of it is rich with vineyards, and 
 many cottages stand embosomed in shrubbery among them. 
 Sometimes we see groups of maidens standing under the grape 
 arbors, and every morning the peasant women go toiling up the 
 steep paths with baskets on their heads, to labor among the vines. 
 On the Neckar below us, the fishermen glide about in their boats, 
 sink their square nets fastened to a long pole, and haul them 
 
62 VIEWS A-FOOT- 
 
 up with the glittering fish, of which the stream is full. I often 
 lean out of the window late at night, when the mountains above 
 are wrapped in dusky obscurity, and listen to the low, musical 
 ripple of the river. It tells to my excited fancy a knightly legend 
 of the old German time. Then comes the bell, rung for closing 
 the inns, breaking the spell with its deep clang, which vibrates 
 far away on the night air, till it has roused all the echoes of the 
 Odenwald. I then shut the window, turn into the narrow box 
 which the Germans call a bed, and in a few minutes am wander- 
 ing in America. Half way up the Heiligenberg runs a beautiful 
 walk, dividing the vineyards from the forest above. This is called 
 the Philosopher's Way, because it was the favorite ramble of the 
 old Professors of the University. It can be reached by a toil- 
 some, winding path among the vines, called the Snake-way, and 
 when one has ascended to it he is well rewarded by the lovely 
 view. In the evening, when the sun has got behind the moun- 
 tain, it is delightful to sit on the stone steps and watch the golden 
 light creeping up the side of the Kaiser-stuhl, till at last twilight 
 begins to darken in the valley and a mantle of mist gathers above 
 the Neckar. 
 
 We ascended the mountain a few days ago. There is a path 
 which leads up through the forest, but we took the shortest way, 
 directly up the side, though it was at an angle of nearly fifty de- 
 grees. It was hard enough work, scrambling through the thick 
 broom and heather, and over stumps and stones. In one of the 
 stone-heaps I dislodged a large orange-colored salamander, seven 
 or eight inches long. They are sometimes found on these 
 mountains, as well as a very large kind of lizard, called the 
 eidechse, which the Germans say is perfectly harmless, and if 
 one whistles or plays a pipe, will come and play around him. 
 The view from the top reminded me of that from Catskill Moun- 
 tain House, but is on a smaller scale. The mountains stretch off 
 sideways, confining the view to but half the horizon, and in the 
 middle of the picture the Hudson is well represented by the 
 lengthened windings of the " abounding Rhine." Nestled at the 
 base below us, was the little village of Handschuhheim, one of 
 the oldest in this part of Germany. The castle of its former 
 lords has nearly all fallen down, but the r?.^?issive solidity of the 
 
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY. 63 
 
 walls which yet stand, proves its antiquity. A few years ago, a 
 part of the outer walls which was remarked to have a hollow 
 sound, was taken down, when there fell from a deep niche 
 built therein, a skeleton, clad in a suit of the old German armor. 
 "We followed a road through the woods to the peak on which 
 stand the ruins of St. Michael's chapel, which was built in the 
 tenth century and inhabited for a long time by a sect of white 
 monks. There is now but a single tower remaining, and all 
 around is grown over with tall bushes and weeds. It had a wild 
 and romantic look, and I sat on a rock and sketched at it, till it 
 grew dark, when we got down the mountain the best way we 
 could. 
 
 We lately visited the great University Library. You walk 
 through one hall after another, filled with books of all kinds, from 
 the monkish manuscript of the middle ages, to the most elegant 
 print of the present day. There is something to me more im- 
 pressive in a library like this than a solemn Cathedral. I think 
 involuntarily of the hundreds of mighty spirits who speak from 
 these three hundred thousand volumes — of the toils and privations 
 with which genius has ever struggled, and of his glorious re- 
 ward. As in a church, one feels as it were, the presence of God ; 
 not because the place has been hallowed by his worship, but be- 
 cause all around stand the inspirations of his spirit, breathed 
 through the mind of genius, to men. And if the mortal remains 
 of saints and heroes do not repose within its walls, the great and 
 good of the whole earth are there, speaking their counsels to the 
 searcher for truth, with voices whose last reverberation will die 
 away only when the globe falls into ruin. 
 
 A few nights ago there was a wedding of peasants across the 
 river. In order to celebrate it particularly, the guests went to 
 the house where it was given, by torchlight. The night was 
 quite dark, and the bright red torches glowed on the surface of 
 the Neckar, as the two couriers galloped along the banks to the 
 bridegroom's house. Here, after much shouting and confusion, 
 the procession was arranged, the two riders started back again 
 with their torches, and the wagons containing the guests followed 
 after with their flickering lights glancing on the water, till they 
 disappeared around the foot of the mountain. The choosing of 
 
64 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Conscripts also took place lately. The law requires one person 
 out of every hundred to become a soldier, and this, in the city of 
 Heidelberg, amounts to nearly 150. It was a sad spectacle. 
 The young men, or rather boys, who were chosen, went about 
 the city with cockades fastened on their hats, shouting and sing- 
 ing, many of them quite intoxicated. I could not help pitying 
 them because of the dismal, mechanical life they are doomed to 
 follow. Many were rough, ignorant peasants, to whom nearly 
 any kind of life would be agreeable ; but there were some whose 
 countenances spoke otherwise, and I thought involuntarily, that 
 their drunken gaiety was only affected to conceal their real feel- 
 ings with regard to the lot which had fallen upon them. 
 
 We are gradually becoming accustomed to the German style 
 of living, which is very different from our own. Their cookery 
 is new to us, but is, nevertheless, good. We have every day a 
 different kind of soup, so 1 have supposed they keep a regular list 
 of three hundred and sixty-five, one for every day in the year ! 
 Then we have potatoes " done up" in oil and vinegar, veal fla- 
 vored with orange peel, barley pudding, and all sorts of pancakes, 
 boiled artichokes, and always rye bread, in loaves a yard long ! 
 Nevertheless, we thrive on such diet, and I have rarely enjoyed 
 more sound and refreshing sleep than in their narrow and coffin- 
 like beds, uncomfortable as they seem. Many of the German 
 customs are amusing. We never see oxen working here, but 
 always cows, sometimes a single one in a cart, and sometimes 
 two fastened together by a yoke across their horns. The women 
 labor constantly in the fields ; from our window we can hear the 
 nut-brown maidens singing their cheerful songs among the vine- 
 yards on the mountain side. Their costume, too, is odd enough. 
 Below the tight-fitting vest they wear such a number of short 
 skirts, one above another, that it reminds one of an animated hogs- 
 head, with a head and shoulders starting out from the top. I 
 have heard it gravely asserted that the wealth of a German dam- 
 sel may be known by counting the number of her " kirtles." An 
 acquaintance of mine remarked, that it would be an excellent 
 costume for falling down a precipice ! 
 
 We have just returned from a second visit to Frankfort, where 
 the great annual fair filled the streets with noise and bustle. On 
 
SCENERY OF THE ODENWALD. 65 
 
 our way back, we stopped at the village of Zwingenberg, which 
 lies at the foot of the Melibochus, for the purpose of visiting some 
 of the scenery of the Odenwald. Passing the night at the inn 
 there, we slept with one bed under and two above, and started 
 early in the morning to climb up the side of the Melibochus. 
 After a long walk through the forests, which were beginning to 
 change their summer foliage for a brighter garment, we reached 
 the summit and ascended the stone tower which stands upon it. 
 This view gives one a better idea of the Odenwald, than that 
 from the Kaiser-stuhl at Heidelberg. In the soft autumn atmos- 
 phere it looked even more beautiful. After an hour in that hea- 
 ven of uplifted thought, into which we step from the mountain- 
 top, our minds went with the path downward to earth, and we 
 descended the eastern side into the wild region which contains 
 the Felsenmeer, or Sea of Rocks. 
 
 We met on the way a student from Fulda — a fine specimen of 
 what free-spirited class, and a man whose smothered aspiration 
 was betrayed in the flashing of his eye, as he spoke of the pres- 
 ent painful and oppressed condition of Germany. We talked 
 so busily together that without noticing the path, which had been 
 bringing us on, up hill and down, through forest and over rock, we 
 came at last to a halt in a valley among the mountains. Making 
 inquiries there, we found we had gone wrong, and must ascend 
 by a different path the mountain we had just come down. Near 
 the summit of this, in a wild pine wood, was the Felsenmeer — a 
 great collection of rocks heaped together like pebbles on the sea 
 shore, and worn and rounded as if by the action of water : so 
 much do they resemble waves, that one standing at the bottom 
 and looking up, cannot resist the idea, that they will flow down 
 upon him. It must have been a mighty tide whose receding 
 waves left these masses piled up together ! The same forma- 
 tion continues at intervals, to the foot of the mountains. It re- 
 minded me of a glacier of rocks instead of ice. A little higher 
 up, lies a massive block of granite called the "Giant's Column." 
 It is thirty-two feet long and three to four feet in diameter, and 
 still bears the mark of the chisel. When or bv whom it was 
 made, remains a mystery. Some have supposed it was intended 
 to be erected for the worship of the Sun, by the wild Teutonic 
 
66 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 tribes who inhabited this forest ; it is more probably the work of 
 the Romans. A project was once started, to erect it as a monu- 
 ment on the battle-field of Leipsic, but it was found too difficult 
 to carry into execution. 
 
 After dining at the little village of Reichelsdorf in the valley 
 below, where the merry landlord charged my friend two kreut- 
 zers less than myself because he was not so tall, we visited the Cas- 
 tle of Schonberg, and joined the Bergstrasse again. We walked 
 the rest of the way here ; long before we arrived, the moon shone 
 down on us over the mountains, and when we turned around the 
 foot of the Heiligenberg, the mist descending in the valley of the 
 Neckar, rested like a light cloud on the church spires. 
 
ENTERING THE ODENWALD. 67 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A WALK THROUGH THE ODENWALD. 
 
 B and I are now conrifortably settled in Frankfort, having, 
 
 with Mr. Willis's kind assistance, obtained lodgings with the 
 amiable family, with whom he has resided for more than two 
 years. My cousin remains in Heidelberg to attend the winter 
 course of lectures at the University. 
 
 Having forwarded our baggage by the omnibus, we came 
 hither on foot, through the heart of the Odenwald, a region full 
 
 of interest, yet little visited by travellers. Dr. S and his 
 
 family walked with us three or four miles of the way, and on a 
 hill above Ziegelhausen, with a splendid view behind us, through 
 the mountain-door, out of which the Neckar enters on the 
 Rhine-plain, we parted. This was a first, and I must confess, a 
 somewhat embarrassing experience in German leave-taking. 
 After bidding adieu three or four times, we started to go up the 
 mountain and they down it, but at every second step we had to 
 turn around to acknowledge the waving of hands and handker- 
 chiefs, which continued so long that I was glad when we were 
 out of sight of each other. We descended on the other side into 
 a wild and romantic valley, whose meadows were of the bright- 
 est green ; a little brook which wound through them, put now 
 and then its "silvery shoulder" to the wheel of a rustic mill. 
 By the road-side two or three wild-looking gipsies sat around a 
 fire, with some goats feeding near them. 
 
 Passing through this valley and the little village of Schonau, 
 we commenced ascending one of the loftiest ranges of the Oden- 
 wald. The side of the mountain was covered with a thick pine 
 forest. There was no wind to wake its solemn anthem ; all was 
 calm and majestic, and even: awful. The trees rose all around 
 
68 VIEWS A -FOOT. 
 
 like the pillars of a vast Cathedral, whose long arched aisles van- 
 ished far below in the deepening gloom. 
 
 " Nature with folded hands seemed there. 
 Kneeling at her evening prayer/' 
 
 for twilight had already begun to gather. We went on and up 
 and ever higher, like the youth in "Excelsior;" the beech and 
 dwarf oak took the place of the pine, and at last we arrived at a 
 cleared summit whose long brown grass waved desolately in the 
 dim light of evening. A faint glow still lingered over the forest- 
 hills, but down in the valley the dusky shades hid every vestige 
 of life, though its sounds came up softened through the long space. 
 When we reached the top a bright planet stood like a diamond 
 over the brow of the eastern hill, and the sound of a twilight bell 
 came up clearly and sonorously on the cool damp air. The 
 white veil of mist slowly descended down the mountain side, but 
 the peaks rose above it like the wrecks of a world, floating in 
 space. We made our way in the dusk down the long path, to 
 the rude little dorf of Elsbach. I asked at the first inn for lodg- 
 ing, where we were ushered into a great room, in which a num- 
 ber of girls who had been at work in the fields, were assembled. 
 They were all dressed m men's jackets, and short gowns, and 
 some had their hair streaming down their back. The landlord's 
 daughter, however, was a beautiful girl, whose modest, delicate 
 features contrasted greatly with the coarse faces of the others. I 
 thought of Uhland's beautiful little poem of " The Landlady's 
 Daughter," as I looked on her. In the room hung two or three 
 pair of antlers, and they told us deer were still plenty in the 
 forests. 
 
 When we left the village the next morning, we again com- 
 menced ascending. Over the whole valley and halfway up the 
 mountain, lay a thick white frost, almost like snow, which con- 
 trasted with the green trees and bushes scattered over the mead- 
 ows, produced the most singular effect. We plucked blackberries 
 ready iced from the bushes by the road-side, and went on in the 
 cold, for the sun shone only on the top of the opposite mountain, 
 into another valley, down which rushed the rapid Ulver. At a 
 little village which bears the beautiful name Anteschonmattenwagf 
 
CASTLE OF ERBACH. 69 
 
 we took a foot-path directly over a steep mountain to the village 
 of Finkenbach. Near the top I found two wild-looking children, 
 cutting grass with knives, both of whom I prevailed upon for a 
 few kreutzers to stand and let me sketch them. From the sum- 
 mit the view on the other side was very striking. The hills were 
 nearly everyone covered with wood, and not a dwelling in sight. 
 It reminded me of our forest scenery at home. The principal 
 difference is, that our trees are two or three times the size of 
 theirs. 
 
 At length, after scaling another mountain, we reached a wide, 
 elevated plain, in the middle of which stood the old dorf of Beer- 
 felden. It was then crowded with people, on account of a great 
 cattle-fair being held there. All the farmers of the neighborhood 
 were assembled, clad in the ancient country costume — broad 
 cocked hats and blue frocks. An orchard near the town was 
 filled with cattle and horses, and near by, in the shade, a number 
 of pedlars had arranged their wares. The cheerful looking 
 country people touched their hats to us as we passed. This cus- 
 tom of greeting travellers, universal in Germany, is very expres- 
 sive of their social, friendly manners. Among the mountains, 
 we frequently met groups of children, who sang together their 
 simple ballads as we passed by. 
 
 From Beerfelden we passed down the valley of the Mimling to 
 Erbach, the principal city in the Odenwald, and there stopped a 
 short time to view the Rittersaal in the old family castle of the 
 Counts of Erbach. An officer, who stood at the gates, conducted 
 us to the door, where we were received by a noble-looking, gray- 
 headed steward. He took us into the Rittersaal at once, which 
 was like stepping back three hundred years. The stained win- 
 dows of the lofty Gothic hall, let in a subdued light which fell on 
 the forms of kings and knights, clad in the armor they wore dur- 
 mg life. On the left as we entered, were mail-covered figures of 
 John and Cosmo de Medici ; further on stood the Emperor Maxi- 
 milian, and by his side the celebrated dwarf who was served up 
 in a pie at one of the imperial feasts. His armor was most deli- 
 cate and beautiful, but small as it was. General Thumb would 
 have had room in it. Gustavus Adolphus and Wallenstein looked 
 down from the neighboring pedestals, while at the other end stood 
 
70 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Goetz von Berlichingen and Albert of Brunswick. Guarding 
 the door were Hans, the robber-knight of Nuremberg, and another 
 from the ThUringian forest. The steward told me that the iron 
 hand of Goetz was in possession of the family, but not shown to 
 strangers; he pointed out, however, the. buckles on the armor, 
 by which it was fastened. Adjoining the hall is an antique 
 chapel, filled with rude old tombs, and containing the sarcophagus 
 of Count Eginhard of Denmark, who lived about the tenth cen- 
 tury. There were also monkish garments five hundred years 
 old hanging up in it. 
 
 The collection of antiquities is large and interesting ; but it is 
 said that the old Count obtained some of them in rather a ques- 
 tionable manner. Among other incidents, they say that when in 
 Rome he visited the Pope, taking with him an old servant who 
 accompanied him in all his travels, and was the accomplice in 
 most of his antiquarian thefts. In one of the outer halls, among 
 the curiosities, was an antique shield of great value. The ser- 
 vant was left in this hall while the Count had his audience, and 
 in a short time this shield was missed. The servant who wore 
 a long cloak, was missed also ; orders were given to close the 
 gates and search every body, but it was too late — the thief was 
 gone. 
 
 Leaving Erbach we found out the direction of Snellert, the 
 Castle of the Wild Huntsman, and took a road that led us for two 
 or three hours along the top of a mountain ridge. Through the 
 openings in the pine and larch forests, we had glimpses of the 
 hills of Spessart, beyond the Main. When we finally left the 
 by-road we had chosen it was quite dark, and we missed the 
 way altogether among the lanes and meadows. We came at last 
 to a full stop at the house of a farmer, who guided us by a foot 
 path over the fields to a small village. On entering the only inn, 
 kept by the Burgomaster, the people finding we were Americans, 
 regarded us with a curiosity quite uncomfortable. They crowded 
 around the door, watching every motion, and gazed in through 
 the windows. The wild huntsman himself could scarcely have 
 made a greater sensation. The news of our arrival seemed to 
 have spread very fast, for the next morning when we stopped at 
 a prune orchard some distance from the village to buy some 
 
GERMAN EMIGRANTS. 71 
 
 fruit, the farmer cried out from a tree, " they are the Americans ; 
 give them as many as they want for nothing !" 
 
 With the Burgomaster's little son for a guide, we went back a 
 mile or two of our route to Snellert, which we had passed the 
 night before, and after losing ourselves two or three times in the 
 woods, arrived at last at the top of the mountain, where the ruins 
 of the castle stand. The walls are nearly level with the ground. 
 The interest of a visit rests entirely on the romantic legend, and 
 the wild view over the hills around, particularly that in front, 
 where on the opposite mountain are the ruins of Rodenstein, to 
 which the wild Huntsman' was wont to ride at midnight — where 
 he now rides no more. The echoes of Rodenstein are no longer 
 awakened by the sound of his bugle, and the hoofs of his demon 
 steed clanging on the battlements. But the hills around are wild 
 enough, and the roar of the pine forests deep enough to have in- 
 spired the simple peasants with the romantic tradition. 
 
 Stopping for dinner at the town of Rheinheim, we met an old 
 man, who, on learning we were Americans, walked with us as 
 far as the next village. He had a daughter in America and was 
 highly gratified to meet any one from the country of her adop- 
 tion. He made me promise to visit her, if I ever should go to St. 
 Louis, and say that I had walked with her father from Rheinheim 
 to Zwangenburg. To satisfy his fears that I might forget it, I 
 took down his name and that of his daughter. He shook me 
 warmly by the hand at parting, and was evidently made happier 
 for that day. 
 
 We reached Darmstadt just in time to take a seat in the omni- 
 bus for Frankfort. Among the passengers were a Bavarian fam- 
 ily, on their way to Bremen, to ship from thence to Texas. I 
 endeavored to discourage the man from choosing such a country 
 as his home, by telling him of its heats and pestilences, but he 
 was too full of hope to be shaken in his purpose. I would have 
 added that it was a slave-land, but I thought on our own country's 
 curse, and was silent. The wife was not so sanguine ; she seemed 
 to mourn in secret at leaving her beautiful fatherland. It was 
 saddening to think how lonely they would feel in that far home, 
 and how they would long, with true German devotion, to look 
 again on the green vintage-hills of their forsaken country. As 
 
72 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 night drew on, the little girl crept over to her father for his accus- 
 tomed evening kiss, and then sank back to sleep in a corner of the 
 wagon. The boy, in the artless confidence of childhood, laid his 
 head on my breast, weary with the day's travel, and soon slept 
 also. Thus we drove on in the dark, till at length the lights of 
 Frankfort glimmered on the breast of the rapid Main, as we passed 
 over the bridge, and when we stopped near the Cathedral, I de- 
 livered up my little charge and sent my sympathy with the 
 wanderers on their lonely way. 
 
FRANKFORT. 73 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SCENES IN FRANKFORT AN AMERICAN COMPOSER THE POET 
 
 FREILIGRATH. 
 
 Dec, 4. — This is a genuine old German city. Founded by 
 Charlemagne, afterwards a rallying point of the Crusaders, and 
 for a long time the capital of the German empire, it has no lack 
 of interesting historical recollections, and notwithstanding it is 
 fast becoming modernized, one is every where reminded of the 
 Past. The Cathedral, old as the days of Peter the Hermit, the 
 grotesque street of the Jews, the many quaint, antiquated dwell- 
 ings and the mouldering watch-towers on the hills around, give 
 it a more interesting character than any German city I have yet 
 seen. The house we dwell in, on the Markt Platz, is more than 
 two hundred years old ; directly opposite is a great castellated 
 building, gloomy with the weight of six centuries, and a few 
 steps to the left brings me to the square of the Roemerberg, 
 where the Emperors were crowned, in a corner of which is a 
 curiously ornamented house, formerly the residence of Luther. 
 There are legends innumerable connected with all these build- 
 ings, and even yet discoveries are frequently made in old houses, 
 of secret chambers and staircases. When you add to all this, 
 the German love of ghost stories, and, indeed, their general belief 
 in spirits, the lover of romance could not desire a more agreea- 
 ble residence. 
 
 I often look out on the singular scene below my window. On 
 both sides of the street, leaving barely room to enter the houses, 
 sit the market women, with their baskets of vegetables and fruit. 
 The middle of the street is filled with women buying, and every 
 cart or carriage that comes along, has to force its way through 
 the crowd, sometimes rolling against and overturning the baskets 
 on the side, when for a few minutes there is a Babel of unin- 
 
 5 
 
74 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 telligible sounds. The country women in their jackets and short 
 gowns go backwards and forwards with great loads on their 
 heads, sometimes nearly as high as themselves. It is a most sin- 
 gular scene, and so varied that one never tires of looking upon 
 it. These women sit here from sunrise till sunset, day after day, 
 for years. They have little furnaces for cooking and for warmth 
 in winter, and when it rains they sit in large wooden boxes. One 
 or two policemen are generally on the ground in the morning to 
 prevent disputing about their places, v/hich often gives rise to in- 
 teresting scenes. Perhaps this kind of life in the open air is con- 
 ducive to longevity ; for certainly there is no country on earth 
 that has as many old women. Many of them look like walking 
 machines made of leather; and to judge from what I see in the 
 streets here, I should think they work till they die. 
 
 On the 21st of October a most interesting fete took place. The 
 magnificent monument of Goethe, modelled by the sculptor Schwan- 
 thaler, at Munich, and cast in bronze, was unveiled. It arrived 
 a few day? before, and was received with much ceremony and 
 erected in the destined spot, an open square in the western part 
 of the city, planted with acacia trees. 1 went there at ten o'clock, 
 and found the square already full ol people. Seats had been 
 erected around the monument for ladies, the singers and musicians. 
 A company of soldiers was stationed to keep an entrance for the 
 procession, which at length arrived with music and banners, and 
 entered the enclosure. A song for the occasion was sung by the 
 choir; it swelled up gradually, and with such perfect harmony 
 and unity, that it seemed like some glorious instrwment touched 
 by a single hand. Then a poetical address was delivered ; after 
 which four young men took their stand at the corners of the mon- 
 ument ; the drums and trumpets gave a flourish, and the mantle 
 fell. The noble figure seemed to rise out of the earth, and thus 
 amid shoutings and the triumphal peal of the band, the form of 
 Goethe greeted the city of his birth. He is represented as lean- 
 ing on the trunk of a tree, holding in his right hand a roll of 
 parchment, and in his left a wreath. The pedestal, which is also 
 of bronze, contains bas reliefs, representing scenes from Faust, 
 V*^ilhelm Meister and Egmont. In the evening Goethe's house, 
 in a street near, was illuminated by arches of lamps between the 
 
A >EUMAN CITY. 75 
 
 windows, and hung with wreaths of flowers. Four pillars of 
 colored lamps lighted the statue. At nine o'clock 1*16 choir of 
 singers came again in a procession, with colored lanterns, on 
 poles, and after singing two or three songs, the statue was exhib- 
 ited in the red glare of the Bengal light. The trees and houses 
 around the square were covered with the glow, which streamed 
 in broad sheets up against the dark sky. 
 
 Within the walls the greater part of Frankfort is built in the 
 old German style — the houses six or seven stories high, and every 
 story projecting out over the other, so that those living in the 
 upper part can nearly shake hands out of the windows. At the 
 corners figures of men are often seen, holding up the story above 
 on their shoulders and making horrible faces at the weight. 
 When I state that in all these narrow streets which constitute the 
 greater part of the city, there are no sidewalks, the windows of 
 the lower stories with an iron grating extending a foot or so into 
 the street, which is only wide enough for one cart to pass along, 
 you can have some idea of the facility of walking through them, 
 to say nothing of the piles of wood, and market-women with bas- 
 kets of vegetables which one is continually stumbling over. 
 Even in the wider streets, I have always to look before and be- 
 hind to keep out of the way of the fiacres ; the people here get 
 so accustomed to it, that they leave barely room for them to pass, 
 and the carriages go dashing by at a nearness which sometimes 
 makes me shudder. 
 
 As I walked across the Main, and looked down at the swift stream 
 on its way from the distant Thuringian forest to join the Rhine, 
 I tliought of the time when Schiller stood there in the days of his 
 early struggles, an exile Trom his native land, and looking over 
 the bridge, said in the loneliness of his heart, " That water 
 flows not so deep as my sufferings i * In the middle, on an iron 
 ornament, stands the golden cock at which Goethe used to marvel 
 when a boy. Perhaps you have not heard the legend connected 
 with this. The bridge was built several hundred years ago, 
 with such strength and solidity that it will stand many hundred 
 yet. The architect had contracted to build it within a certain 
 time, but as it drew near, witliout any prospect of fulfilment, the 
 ievil appeared to him and promised to finish it, on condition of 
 
76 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 having the first scul that passed over it. This was agreed 
 upon and the devil performed his part of the bargain. The 
 artist, however, on the day appointed, drove a cock across before 
 he suffered any one to pass over it. His majesty stationed him 
 self under the middle arch of the bridge, awaiting his prey ; but 
 enraged at the cheat, he tore the unfortunate fowl in pieces and 
 broke two holes in the arch, saying they should never be built 
 up again. The golden cock was erected on the bridge as a token 
 of the event, but the devil has perhaps lost some of his power 
 in these latter days, for the holes were filled up about thirty 
 years ago. 
 
 From the hills on the Darmstadt road, I had a view of the 
 country around — the fields were white and bare, and the dark 
 Tannus, with the broad patches of snow on his sides, looked grim 
 and shadowy through the dim atmosphere. It was like the land- 
 scape of a dream — dark, strange and silent. The whole of last 
 month we saw the sun but two or three days, the sky being 
 almost continually covered with a gloomy fog. England and 
 Germany seem to have exchanged climates this year, for in the 
 former country we had delightfully clear weather. 
 
 I have seen the banker Rothschild several times driving about 
 the city. This one — Anselmo, the most celebrated of the broth- 
 ers — holds a mortfrasre on the citv of Jerusalem. He rides about 
 in style, with officers attending his carriage. He is a little bald- 
 headed man, with marked Jewish features, and is said not to 
 deceive his looks. At any rate, his reputation is none of the 
 best, either with Jews or Christians. A caricature was published 
 some time ago, in which he is represented as giving a beggar 
 woman by the way-side, a kreutzer — the smallest German coin. 
 She is made to exclaim, " God reward you, a thousand fold !" 
 He immediately replies, after reckoning up in his head : " How 
 much have I then ? — sixteen florins and forty kreutzers !" 
 
 I have lately heard one of the most perfectly beautiful crea- 
 tions that ever emanated from the soul of genius — the opera of 
 Fidelio. I have caught faint glimpses of that rich world of fancy 
 and feeling, to which music is the golden door. Surrendering 
 myself to the grasp of Beethoven's powerful conception, I read 
 in sounds far more expressive than words, the almost despairing 
 
MUSIC— RICHARD S. WILLIS. 77 
 
 agony of the strong-hearted, but still tender and womanly Fidelio 
   — the ecstatic joy of the wasted prisoner, when he rose from his 
 hard couch in the dungeon, seeming to feel, in his maniac brain, 
 the presentiment of a bright being who would come to unbind his 
 chains — and the sobbing and wailing, almost human, which came 
 from the orchestra, when they dug his grave, by the dim lantern's 
 light. When it was done, the murderer stole into the dungeon, 
 to gloat on the agonies of his victim, ere he gave the death-blow. 
 Then, while the prisoner is waked to reason by that sight, and 
 Fidelio throws herself before the uplifted dagger, rescuing her 
 husband with the courage which love gives to a woman's heart, 
 the storm of feeling which has been gathering in the music, swells 
 to a height beyond which it seemed impossible for the soul to pass. 
 My nerves were thrilled till I could bear no more. A mist 
 seemed to come before my eyes and I scarcely knew what follow- 
 ed, till the rescued kneeled together and poured forth in the clos- 
 ing hymn the painful fullness of their joy. I dreaded the sound 
 of voices after the close, and the walk home amid the harsh rat- 
 tling of vehicles on the rough streets. For days aftewards my 
 brain was filled with a mingled and confused sense of melody, 
 like the half-remembered music of a dream. 
 
 Why should such magnificent creations of art be denied the 
 new world ? There is certainly enthusiasm and refinement of 
 feeling enough at home to appreciate them, were the proper direc- 
 tion given to the popular taste. What country possesses more 
 advantages to foster the growth of such an art, than ours? Why 
 should not the composer gain mighty conceptions from thiC gran- 
 deur of our mountain scenery, from the howling of the storm 
 through our giant forests, from the eternal thunder of Niagara ? 
 All these collateral influences, which more or less tend to the 
 development and expansion of genius, are characteristics of our 
 country ; and a taste for musical compositions of a refined and 
 lofty character, would soon give birth to creators. 
 
 Fortunately for our country, this missing star in the crown of 
 her growing glory, will probably soon be replaced. Richard S. 
 Willis, with whom we have lived in delightful companionship, 
 since coming here, has been for more than two years studying 
 and preparing himself for the higher branches of composition. 
 
78 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The musical talent he displayed while at college, and the success 
 following the publication of a set of beautiful waltzes he there 
 composed, led him to choose this most difficult but lofty path ; the 
 result justifies his early promise and gives the most sanguine an- 
 ticipations for the future. He studied the first two years here 
 under Schnyder "von Wartensee, a distinguished Swiss composer; 
 and his exercises have met with the warmest approval from Men- 
 delsohn, at present the first German composer, and Rinck, the 
 celebrated organist. The enormous labor and application re- 
 quired to go through the preparatory studies alone, would make 
 it seem almost impossible for one with the restless energy of the 
 American character, to undertake it ; but as this very energy 
 gives genius its greatest power, we may now trust with confi- 
 dence that Willis, since he has nearly completed his studies, will 
 win himself and his country honor in the difficult path he has 
 chosen. 
 
 One evening, after sunset, we took a stroll around the prome- 
 nades. The swans were still floating on the little lake, and the 
 American poplar beside it, was in its full autumn livery. As we 
 made the circuit of the walks, guns were firing far and near, 
 celebrating the opening of the vintage the next day, and rockets 
 went glittering and sparkling up into the dark air. Notwith- 
 standing the late hour and lowering sky, the walks were full of 
 people, and we strolled about with them till it grew quite dark, 
 watching the fire- works which arose from the gardens around. 
 
 The next day, we went into the Frankfort wood. Willis and 
 his brother-in-law, Charles F. Dennett, of Boston, Dr. Dix and 
 another young gentleman from the same city, formed the party — 
 six Americans in all ; we walked over the Main and through 
 the dirty suburbs of Sachsenhausen, where we met many peas- 
 ants laden with the first day's vintage, and crowds of people 
 coming down from the vineyards. As we ascended the hill, the 
 sound of firing was heard in every direction, and from many 
 vineyards arose the smoke of fires where groups of merry chil- 
 dren were collecting and burning the rubbish. We became lost 
 among the winding paths of the pine forest, so that by the time 
 we came ou. upon the eminence overlooking the valley of the 
 Main, it was quite dark. From every side, far and near, rockets 
 
THE POET FREILIGRATH. 79 
 
 of all sizes and colors darted high up into the sky. Sometimes 
 a flight of the most brilliant crimson and gold lights rushed up 
 together, then again by some farm-house in the meadow, the vint- 
 agers would burn a Roman candle, throwing its powerful white 
 light on .he gardens and fields around. We stopped under a 
 garden wall, by which a laughing company were assembled in 
 the smoke and red blaze, and watched several comets go hissing 
 and glancing far above us. The cracking of ammunition still 
 continued, and when we came again upon the bridge, the city 
 opposite was lighted as ii^ illuminated. The full moon had just 
 risen, softening and mellowing the beautiful scene, while beyond, 
 over the tower of Frankfort, rose and fell the meteors that her- 
 alded the vintage. 
 
 Since I have been in Frankfort, an event has occurred, which 
 shows very distinctly the principles at work in Germany, and 
 gives us some foreboding of the future. Ferdinand Freiligrath, 
 the fii*st living poet with the exception of Uhland, has within a 
 few weeks published a volume of poems entitled, "My Confes- 
 sion of Faith, or Poems for the Times." It contains some thrill- 
 ing appeals to the free spirit of the German people, setting forth 
 the injustice under which they labor, in simple but powerful lan- 
 guage, and with the most forcible illustrations, adapted to the 
 comprehension of everyone. Viewed as a work of genius alone, 
 it is strikingly powerful and original : but when we consider the 
 effect it is producing among the people — the strength it will add 
 to the rising tide of opposition to every form of tyranny, it has 
 a still higher interest. Freiligrath had three or four years be- 
 fore, received a pension of three hundred thalers from the Kinsf 
 of Prussia, soon after his accession to the throne : he ceased to 
 draw this about a year ago, stating in the preface to his volume 
 that it was accepted in the belief the King would adhere to his 
 promise of giving the people a new constitution, but that now since 
 time has proved there is no dependence to be placed on the 
 King's word, he must speak for his people and for his land. 
 
 The book has not only been prohibited, but Freiligrath has 
 exiled himself voluntarily, to escape imprisonment. He is now 
 in Paris, where Heine and Herwegh, two of Germany's fin- 
 est poets, both banished for the same reason, are living. The 
 
80 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 free spirit which characterises these men, who come from 
 among the people, shows plainly the tendency of the times ; and 
 it is only the great strength with which tyranny here has envi- 
 roned himself, and the almost lethargic slowness of the Germans, 
 which has prevented a change ere this. 
 
 In this volume of Freiligrath's, among other things, is a trans- 
 lation of Bryant's magnificent poem " The Winds," and Burns's 
 *' A man's a man for a' that ;" and I have translated one of his, 
 as a specimen of the spirit in which they are written • 
 
 FREEDOM AND RIGHT. 
 
 Oh ! think not she rests in the grave's chilly slumber 
 
 Nor sheds o'er the present her glorious light, 
 Since Tyranny's shackles the free soul incumber 
 
 And traitors accusing, deny to us Right ! 
 No : "whether to exile the sworn ones arc wending, 
 Or weary of power that crushed them unending, 
 In dungeons have perished, their veins madly rending,* 
 
 Yet Freedom still livcth, and with her, the Right ! 
 
 Freedom and Right ! 
 
 A single defeat can confuse us no longer : 
 
 It adds to the combat's fast gathering might, 
 It bids us but doubly to strviggle, and stronger 
 
 To raise up our battle-cry — " Freedom and Right !" 
 For the Twain know a union forever abiding, 
 Together in Truth and in majesty striding ; 
 Where Right is, already the free are residing 
 
 And ever, where dwell the free, governeth Right ! 
 
 Freedom and Right ! 
 
 And this is a trust : never made, as at present, 
 
 The glad pair from battle to battle their flight ; 
 Never breathed through the soul of the down-trodden peasant, 
 
 Their spirit so deeply its promptings of light ! 
 They sweep o'er the earth with a tempest-like token ; 
 From strand unto strand words of thunder are spoken ; 
 Already the serf finds his manacles broken, 
 
 And those of the negro are falling from sight 
 
 Freedom and Right ! 
 
 * This allusion is to Weidig, who, imprisoned for years at Darmstadt on 
 account of his political principles, ^nally committed suicide by cutting his 
 throat with the glass of his prison-window. 
 
"FREEDOM AND RIGHT.'» 81 
 
 Yes, avery ■where wide is their war-banner waving, 
 
 On the armies of Wrong their revenge to requite : 
 The strength of Oppression they boldly are braving 
 
 And at last they will conquer, resistless in might ! 
 Oh, God ! what a glorious wreath then appearing 
 Will blend every leaf in the banner they're bearing — 
 The olive of Greece and the shamrock of Erin, 
 
 And the oak-bough of Germany, greenest in light ! 
 
 Freedom and Right ! 
 
 And many who suffered, are now calmly sleeping, 
 The slumber of freemen, borne down by the fight ; 
 
 While the Twain o'er^-their graves still a bright watch are keeping, 
 V/hom we bless for their memories — Freedom and Right ! 
 
 Meanwhile lift your glasses ! to those who have striven ! 
 
 And striving with bold hearts, to misery were driven ! 
 
 Who fought for the Right and but Wrong then were given ! 
 To Right, the immortal — to Freedom through Right I 
 
 Freedom through Right I 
 
82 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A WEEK AMONG THE STUDENTS. 
 
 Receiving a letter from my cousin one bright December morn- 
 ing, the idea of visiting him struck me, and so, within an hour, 
 
 B and I were on our way to Heidelberg. It was delightful 
 
 weather ; the air was mild as the early days of spring, the pine 
 forests around wore a softer green, and though the sun was but a 
 hand's breadth high, even at noon, it was quite warm on the open 
 road. We stopped for the night at Bensheim ; the next morning 
 was as dark as a cloudy day in the north can be, wearing a heavy 
 gloom I never saw elsewhere. The wind blew the snow down 
 from the summits upon us, but being warm from walking, we 
 did not heed it. The mountains looked higher than in summer, 
 and the old castles more grim and frowning. From the hard roads 
 and freezing wind, my feet became very sore, and after limping 
 along in excruciating pain for a league or two, I filled my boots 
 with brandy, which deadened the wounds so much, that I was en- 
 abled to go on in a kind of trot, which I kept up, only stopping 
 ten minutes to dinner, till we reached Heidelberg. 
 
 The same evening there was to be a general commers, or meet- 
 ing of the societies among the students, and I determined not to 
 omit witnessing one of the most interesting and characteristic fea- 
 tures of student-life. So borrowing a cap and coat, I looked the 
 student well enough to pass for one of them, though the former 
 article was somewhat of the Philister form. Baader, a young 
 poet of some note, and president of the " Palatia" Society, hav- 
 ing promised to take us there, we met at eight o'clock at an inn 
 frequented by the students, and went to the rendezvous, near the 
 Markt Platz. 
 
 A confused sound of voices came from the inn, as we drew 
 near ; groups of students were standing around the door. In the 
 
A STUDENTS' COMMERS. 83 
 
 entry we saw the Red Fisherman, one of the most conspicuous 
 characters about the University. He is a small, stout man, with 
 bare neck and breast, red hair, whence his name, and a strange 
 mixture of roughness and benevolence in his countenance. He 
 has saved many persons at the risk of his own life, from drown- 
 ing in the Neckar, and on that account is leniently dealt with by 
 ihe faculty whenever he is arrested for assisting the students in 
 tiny of their unlawful proceedings. Entering the room I could 
 scarcely see at first, on account of the smoke that ascended from 
 a hundred pipes. All was noise and confusion. Near the door 
 sat some half dozen musicians who were getting their instruments 
 ready for action, and the long room was filled with tables, all of 
 which seemed to be full and the students were still pressing in. 
 The tables were covered with great stone jugs and long beer 
 glasses; the students were talking and shouting and drinking. — 
 One who appeared to have the arrangement of the meeting, found 
 seats for us together, and having made a slight acquaintance with 
 those sitting next us, we felt more at liberty to witness their pro- 
 ceedings. They were all talking in a sociable, friendly way, and 
 I saw no one who appeared to be intoxicated. The beer was a 
 weak mixture, which I should think would make one fall over 
 from its weisJit before it would intoxicate him. Those sittino; 
 near me drank but little, and that principally to make or return 
 compliments. One or two at the other end of the table were more 
 boisterous, and more than one glass was overturned on the legs 
 below it. Leaves containing the songs for the evening lay at 
 each seat, and at the head, where the President sat, were two 
 swords crossed, with which he occasionally struck upon the table 
 to preserve order. Our President was a fine, romantic-looking 
 young man, dressed in the old German costume, which is far 
 handsomer than the modern. I ;iever saw in any company of 
 young men, so many handsome, manly countenances. If their 
 faces were any index of their characters, there were many noble, 
 free souls among them. Nearly opposite to me sat a young poet, 
 whose dark eyes flashed with feeling as he spoke to those near 
 him. After some tiine passed in talking and drinking together, 
 varied by an occasional air from the musicians, the President 
 beat order with the sword, and the whole company joined in one 
 
84 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of their glorious songs, to a melody at the same time joyous and 
 solemn. Swelled by so many manly voices it rose up like a 
 hymn of triumph — all other sounds were stilled. Three times 
 during the singing all rose up, clashed their glasses together 
 around the tables and drank to their Fatherland, a health and 
 blessing to the patriot, and honor to those who struggle in the 
 cause of freedom, at the close thundering out their motto : 
 
 " Fearless in strife, to the banner still true !" 
 
 After this song the same order as before was continued, except 
 that students from the different societies made short speeches, 
 accompanied by some toast or sentiment. One spoke of Germany 
 — predicting that all her dissensions would be overcome, and she 
 would rise up at last, like a phoenix among the nations of Europe; 
 and at the close gave ' strong, united, regenerated Germany !' 
 Instantly all sprang to their feet, and clashing the glasses together, 
 gave a thundering " hoch .'" This enthusiasm for their country 
 is one of the strongest characteristics of the German students ; 
 they have ever been first in the field for her freedom, and on them 
 mainly depends her future redemption. 
 
 Cloths were passed around, the tables wiped off, and prepara- 
 tions made to sing the " Landsfather^' or consecration song. This 
 is one of the most important and solemn of their ceremonies, 
 since by performing it the new students are made hurschen, and 
 the bands of brotherhood continually kept fresh and sacred. 
 All became still a moment, then they commenced the lofty 
 song : 
 
 " Silent bending, each one lending 
 
 To the solemn tones his ear, 
 Hark, the song of songs is sounding — 
 Back from joyful choir resounding, 
 
 Hear it, German brothers, hear ! 
 
 " German proudly, raise it loudly, 
 
 Singing of your fatherland — 
 Fatherland ! thou land of story. 
 To the altars of thy glory 
 
 Consecrate us, sword in hand ! 
 
THE LANDSFATHER. 86 
 
 " Take tlie beaker, pleasure seeker, 
 
 With thy country's drink brimmed o'er ! 
 In thy left the sword is blinking, 
 Pierce it through the cap, while drinking 
 To thy Fatherland once more !'^ 
 
 With the first line of the last stanza, the Presidents sitting at 
 the head of the table, take their glasses in their right hands, and at 
 the third line, the sword in their left, at the end striking their 
 glasses together and drinking. 
 
 " In left hand gleaming, thou art beaming, 
 
 Sword from all dishonor free ! 
 Thus I pierce the cap, while swearing, 
 It in honor ever wearing, 
 
 I a valiant Bursch will be !" 
 
 They clash their swords together till the third line is sung, 
 when each takes his cap, and piercing the point of the sword 
 through the crown, draws it down to the guard. Leaving their 
 caps on the swords, the Presidents stand behind the two next stu- 
 dents, who go through the same ceremony, receiving the swords 
 at the appropriate time, and giving it back loaded with their caps 
 also. This ceremony is going on at every table at the same time. 
 These two stanzas are repeated for every pair of students, till all 
 have gone through with it, and the Presidents have arrived at the 
 bottom of the table, with their swords strung full of caps. Here 
 they exchange swords, while all sing : 
 
 " Come thou bright sword, now made holy, 
 
 Of free men the weapon free ; 
 Bring it solemnly and slowly, 
 
 Heavy with pierced caps, to me ! 
 From its burden now divest it ; 
 
 Brothers be ye covered all, 
 
 And till our next festival, 
 Hallowed and unspotted rest it ! 
 
 " Up, ye feast companions ! ever 
 Honor ye our holy band ! 
 And with heart and soul endeavor 
 E'er as high-souled men to stand ! 
 
86 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Up to feast, ye men united ! 
 
 Worthy be your fathers' fame, 
 
 And the sword may no one claim, 
 Who to honor is not plighted !" 
 
 Then each President, taking a cap off his sword, reached it to 
 the student opposite, and they crossed their swords, the ends 
 resting on the two students' heads, while they sang the next 
 stanza : 
 
 " So take it back ; thy head I now will cover 
 And stretch the bright sword over. 
 Live also then this Bursche, hoch ! 
 W herever we may meet him, 
 Will we. as Brother greet him — 
 Live also this, our Brother, hoch P 
 
 This ceremony was repeated till all the caps were given 
 back, and they then concluded with the following: 
 
 '•Rest, the Burschen-feast is over, 
 
 Hallowed sword and thou art free ! 
 Each one strive a valiant lover 
 
 Of his fatherland to be ! 
 Hail to him, who, glory-haunted. 
 
 Follows still his fathers bold ; 
 
 And the sword may no one hold 
 But the noble and undaunted !" 
 
 The Landsfather being over, the students were less orderly ; 
 the smoking and drinking began again and we left, as it was 
 already eleven o'clock, glad to breathe the pure cold air. 
 
 In the University I heard Gervinus, who was formerly profes- 
 sor in Gottingen, but was obliged to leave on account of his lib- 
 eral principles. He is much liked by the students and his lec- 
 tures are very well attended. They had this winter a torchlight 
 procession in honor of him. He is a stout, round-faced man, 
 speaks very fast, and makes them laugh continually with his 
 witty remarks. In the room I saw a son of Riickert, the poet, with 
 a face strikingly like his father's. The next evening I went to 
 hear Schlosser, the great historian. Among his pupils are the 
 two princes of Baden, who are now at the University. He ^ame 
 hurriedly in, threw down his portfolio and began instantljr to 
 
A DUE].. 87 
 
 speak. He is an old, gray-headed man, but still active and full 
 of energy. The Germans find him exceedingly difficult to un- 
 derstand, as he is said to use the English construction almost en- 
 tirely ; for this reason, perhaps, I understood him quite easily. 
 He lectures on the French Revolution, but is engaged in writing 
 a Universal History, the first numbers of which are published. 
 
 Two or three days after, we heard that a duel was to take 
 place at Neuenheim, on the opposite side of the Neckar, where 
 the students have a house hired for that purpose. In order to 
 witness the spectacle, we started immediately with two or three 
 students. Along the road were stationed old women, at inter- 
 vals, as guards, to give notice of the approach of the police, and 
 from these we learned that one duel had already been fought, 
 and they were preparing for the other. The Red Fisherman 
 was busy in an outer room grinding the swords, which are made 
 as sharp as razors. In the large room some forty or fifty stu- 
 dents were walking about, while the parties were preparing. 
 This was done by taking off the coat and vest and binding a great 
 thick leather garment on, which reached from the breast to the 
 knees, completely protecting the body. They then put on a 
 leather glove reaching nearly to the shoulder, tied a thick cravat 
 around the throat, and drew on a cap with a large vizor. This 
 done, they were walked about the room a short time, the seconds 
 holding out their arms to strengthen them ; their faces all this 
 time betrayed considerable anxiety. 
 
 All being ready, the seconds took their stations immediately 
 behind them, each armed with a sword, and gave the words: 
 ^^ ready — hind your weapons — loose .'" They instantly sprang at 
 each other, exchanged two or three blows, when the seconds 
 cried " halt !" and struck their swords up. Twenty-four rounds 
 of this kind ended the duel, without either being hurt, though the 
 cap of one of them was cut through and his forehead grazed. 
 All their duels do not end so fortunately, however, as the fright- 
 ful scars on the faces of many of those present, testified. It is a 
 gratification to know that but a small portion of the students keep 
 up this barbarous custom. The great body is opposed to it ; in 
 Heidelberg, four societies, comprising more than one half the 
 students, have been formed against it. A strong desire for such 
 
88 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 a reform seems to prevail, and the custom will probably be 
 totally discontinued in a short time. 
 
 This view of the student-life was very interesting to me ; it 
 appeared in a much better light than I had been accustomed to 
 view it. Their peculiar customs, except duelling and drinking, 
 of course, may be the better tolerated when we consider their 
 effect on the liberty of Germany. It is principally through them 
 that a free spirit is kept alive ; they have ever been foremost to 
 rise up for their Fatherland, and bravest in its defence. And 
 though many of their customs have so often been held up to ridi- 
 cule, among no other class can one find warmer, truer or braver 
 hearts. 
 
MY EXPENSES. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR IN GERMANY. 
 
 Jan. 2, 1845. — I have lately been computing how much my 
 travels have cost me up to the present time, and how long I can 
 remain abroad to continue the pilgrimage, with my present ex- 
 pectations. The result has been most encouraging to my plan. 
 Before leaving home, 1 wrote to several gentlemen who had 
 visited Europe, requesting the probable expense of travel and 
 residence abroad. They sent different accounts ; E. Joy Morris 
 said I must calculate to spend at least $1500 a year; another 
 suggested $1000, and the most moderate of all, said that it was 
 impossihle to live in Europe a year on less than $500. Now, six 
 months have elapsed since I left home — six months of greater 
 pleasure and profit than any year of my former life — and my 
 expenses, in full, amount to $130! This, however, nearly ex- 
 hausts the limited sum with which I started, but through the 
 kindness of the editorial friends who have been publishing my 
 sketches of travel, I trust to receive a remittance shortly. Print- 
 ing is a business attended with so little profit here, as there are 
 already so many workmen, that it is almost useless for a stranger 
 to apply. Besides, after a tough grapple, 1 am just beginning to 
 master the language, and it seems so necessary to devote every 
 minute to study, that I would rather undergo some privation, than 
 neglect turning these fleeting hours into gold, for the miser Mem- 
 ory to stow away in the treasure-vaults of the mind. 
 
 We have lately witnessed the most beautiful and interesting 
 of all German festivals — Christmas. This is here peculiarly 
 celebrated. About the commencement of December, the Christ- 
 markt or fair, was opened in the Rcsmerberg, and has continued 
 to the present time. The booths, decorated with green boughs, 
 were filled with toys of various kinds, among which during the 
 
90 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 first days the figure of St. Nicholas was conspicuous. There 
 were bunches of wax candles to illuminate the Christmas tree, 
 gingerbread with printed mottos in poetry, beautiful little earth- 
 enware, basket-work, and a wilderness of playthings. The 5th 
 of December, being Nicholas evening, the booths were lighted 
 up, and the square was filled with boys, running from one stand 
 to another, all shouting and talking together in the most joyous 
 confusion. Nurses were going around, carrying the smaller 
 children in their arms, and parents bought presents decorated 
 with sprigs of pine and carried them away. Some of the shops 
 had beautiful toys, as for instance, a whole grocery store in 
 miniature, with barrels, boxes and drawers, all filled with sweet- 
 meats, a kitchen with a stove and all suitable utensils, which 
 could really be used, and sets of dishes of the most diminutive 
 patterns. All was a scene of activity and joyous feeling. 
 
 Many of the tables had bundles of rods with gilded bands, 
 which were to be used that evening by the persons who repre- 
 sented St. Nicholas. In the family with whom we reside, one of 
 our German friends dressed himself very comically, with a mask, 
 fur robe and long tapering cap. He came in with a bunch of 
 rods and a sack, and a broom for a sceptre. After we all had 
 received our share of the beating, he threw the contents of his 
 bag on the table, and while we were scrambling for the nuts and 
 apples, gave us many smart raps over the fingers. In many fam- 
 ilies the children are made to say, '• I thank you, Herr Nico- 
 laus," and the rods are hung up in the room till Christmas to 
 keep them in good behavior. This was only a forerunner of the 
 Christ-kindchen's coming. The Nicolaus is the punishing spirit, 
 the Christ-kindchen the rewarding one. 
 
 When this time was over, we all began preparing secretly our 
 presents for Christmas. Every day there were consultations 
 about the things which should be obtained. It was so arranged 
 that all should interchange presents, but nobody must know be- 
 forehand what he would receive. What pleasure there was in 
 all these secret purchases and preparations ! Scarcely anything 
 was thought or spoken of but Christmas, and every day the con- 
 sultations became more numerous and secret. The trees were 
 bought sometime beforehand, but as we were to witness the festi- 
 
THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 91 
 
 val for the first time, we were not allowed to see them prepared, 
 in order that the effect might be as great as possible. The mar- 
 ket in the Roemerberg Square grew constantly larger and more 
 brilliant. Every night it was lit up with lamps and thronged 
 with people. Quite a forest sprang up in the street before our 
 door. The old stone house opposite, with the traces of so many 
 centuries on its dark face, seemed to stand in the midst of a gar- 
 den. It was a pleasure to go out every evening and see the chil- 
 dren rushing to and fro, shouting and seeking out toys from the 
 booths, and talking all the time of the Christmas that was so 
 near. The poor people went by with their little presents hid un- 
 der their cloaks, lest their children might see them ; every heart 
 was glad and every countenance wore a smile of secret pleasure. 
 Finally the day before Christmas arrived. The streets were 
 so full I could scarce make my way through, and the sale of 
 trees went on more rapidly than ever. These were commonly 
 branches of pine or fir, set upright in a little miniafure garden 
 of moss. When the lamps were lighted at night, our street had 
 the appearance of an illuminated garden. We were prohibited 
 frofii entering the rooms up stairs in which the grand ceremony 
 was to take place, being obliged to take our seats in those ar- 
 ranged for the guests, and wait with impatience the hour when 
 Christ-kindchen should call. Several relations of the family 
 came, and what was more agreeable, they brought with them five 
 or six children. I was anxious to see how they would view the 
 ceremony. Finally, in the middle of an interesting conversation, 
 we heard the bell ringing up stairs. We all started up, and 
 made for the door. I ran up the steps with the children at my 
 heels, and at the top met a blaze of light coming from the open 
 door, that dazzled me. In each room stood a great table, on 
 which the presents were arranged, amid flowers and wreaths. 
 From the centre, rose the beautiful Christmas tree covered with 
 wax tapers to the very top, which made it nearly as light as day, 
 while every bough was hung with sweetmeats and gilded nuts. 
 The children ran shouting around the table, hunting their pres- 
 ents, while the older persons had theirs pointed out to them. I 
 had quite a little library of German authors as my share ; and 
 many of the others received quite valuable gifts. 
 
92 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 But how beautiful was the heart-felt joy that shone on every 
 countenance ! As each one discovered he embraced the givers, 
 and all was a scene of the purest feelings. It is a glorious feast, 
 this Christmas time ! What a chorus from happy hearts went up 
 on that evening to Heaven ! Full of poetry and feeling and 
 glad associations, it is here anticipated with joy, and leaves a 
 pleasant memory behind it. We may laugh at such simple festi- 
 vals at home, and prefer to shake ourselves loose from every 
 shackle that bears the rust of the Past, but we would certainly 
 be happier if some of these beautiful old customs were better 
 honored. They renew the bond of feeling between families and 
 friends, and strengthen their kindly sympathy ; even life-long 
 friends require occasions of this kind to freshen the wreath that 
 binds them together. 
 
 New Year's Eve is also favored with a peculiar celebration in 
 Germany. Every body remains up and makes himself merry 
 till midnight. The Christmas trees are again lighted, and while 
 the tapers are burning down, the family play for articles which 
 they have purchased and hung on the boughs. It is so arranged 
 that each one shall win as much as he gives, which change of 
 articles makes much amusement. One of the ladies rejoiced in 
 the possession of a red silk handkerchief and a cake of soap, 
 while a cup and saucer and a pair of scissors fell to my lot ! 
 As midnight drew near, it was louder in the streets, and compa- 
 nies of people, some of them singing in chorus, passed by on their 
 way to the Zeil. Finally three-quarters struck, the windows 
 were opened and every one waited anxiously for the clock to 
 strike. At the first sound, such a cry arose as one may imagine, 
 when thirty or forty thousand persons all set their lungs going 
 at once. Every body in the house, in the street, over the whole 
 city, shouted, " Prosst Neu Jahr f In families, all the mem- 
 bers embrace each other, with wishes of happiness for the new 
 year. 'Then the windows are thrown open, and they cry to their 
 neighbors or those passing by. 
 
 After we had exchanged congratulations, Dennett, B and 
 
 I set out for the Zeil. The streets were full of people, shouting 
 to one another and to those standing at the open windows. We 
 failed not to cry, " Prosst Neu Jahr V wherever we saw a dam- 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE. 93 
 
 sel at the window, and the words came back to us more music- 
 ally than we sent them. Along the Zeil the spectacle was most 
 singular. The great wide street was filled with companies of 
 men, marching up and down, while from the mass rang up one 
 deafening, unending shout, that seemed to pierce the black sky- 
 above. The whole scene looked stranger and wilder from the 
 flickering light of the swinging lamps, and I could not help 
 thinking it must resemble a night in Paris during the French 
 Revolution. We joined the crowd ana used our lungs as well 
 as any of them. For some time after we returned home, com- 
 panics passed by, singing " with us 'tis ever so !" but at three 
 o'clock all was again silent. 
 
94 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WINTER IN FRANKFORT A FAIR, AN INUNDATION AND A FIRE. 
 
 After New Year, the Main, just above the city, and the lakes 
 in the promenades, were frozen over. The ice was tried by the 
 police, and having been found of sufficient thickness, to the great 
 joy of the schoolboys, permission was given to skate. The lakes 
 were soon covered with merry skaters, and every afternoon the 
 banks were crowded with spectators. It was a lively sight lo 
 see two or three hundred persons darting about, turning and 
 crossing like a flock of crows, while, by means of arm-chairs 
 mounted on runners, the ladies were enabled to join in the sport, 
 and whirl around among them. Some of the broad meadows 
 near the city, which were covered with water, were the resort of 
 the schools. I went there often in my walks, and always found 
 two or three schools, with the teachers, all skating together, and 
 playing their winter games on the ice. I have often seen them 
 on the meadows along the Main ; the teachers generally made 
 quite as much noise as the scholars in their sports. 
 
 In the Art Institute I saw the picture of " Huss before the 
 Council of Constance," by the painter Lessing. It contains up- 
 wards of twenty figures. The artist has shown the greatest skill 
 in the expression and grouping of these. Bishops and Cardinals 
 in their splendid robes are seated around a table, covered with 
 parchment folios, and before them stands Huss alone. His face, 
 pale and thin with long imprisonment, he has lain one hand on 
 his breast, while with the other he has grasped one of the vol- 
 umes on the table ; there is an air of majesty, of heavenly se- 
 renity on his lofty forehead and calm eye. One feels instinc- 
 tively that he has truth on his side. There can be no deception, 
 no falsehood in those noble features. The three Italian cardinals 
 before him appear to be full of passionate rage ; the bishop in 
 
THE ESCHERNHEIM TOWER. 95 
 
 front, who holds the imperial pass given to Huss, looks on with an 
 expression of scorn, and the priests around have an air of min- 
 gled curiosity and hatred. There is one, however, in whose mild 
 features and tearful eye is expressed sympathy and pity for the 
 prisoner. It is said this picture has had a great effect upon 
 Catholics who have seen it, in softening the bigotry with which 
 they regarded the early reformers ; and if so, it is a triumphant 
 proof how much art can effect in the cause of truth and humanity. 
 1 was much interested in a cast of the statue of St. George, 
 by the old Italian sculptor Donatello. It is a figure full of youth 
 and energy, with a countenance that seems to breathe. Dona- 
 tello was the teacher of Michael Angelo, and when the young 
 sculptor was about setting off for Rome, he showed him the staiue, 
 his favorite work. Michael gazed at it long and intensely, and 
 at length, on parting, said to Donatello, " It wants but one thing." 
 The artist pondered long over this expression, for he could not 
 imagine in what could fail the matchless figure. At length, after 
 many years, Michael Angelo, in the noon of his renown, visited 
 the death-bed of his old master. Donatello begijed to know, be- 
 fore he died, what was wanting to his St. George. Angelo an- 
 swered, " the gift of speech V and a smile of triumph lighted the 
 old man's face, as he closed his eyes forever. 
 
 The Eschernheim Tower, at the entrance of one of the city 
 gates, is universally admired by strangers, on account of its pic- 
 turesque appearance, overgrown with ivy and terminated by the 
 little pointed turrets, which one sees so often in Germany, on 
 buildings three or four centuries old. There are five other watch 
 towers of similar form, which stand on different sides of the city, 
 at the distance of a mile or two, and generally upon an eminence 
 overlooking the country . They were erected several centuries 
 ago, to discern from afar the approach of an enemy, and protect 
 the caravans of merchants, which at that time travelled from city 
 to city, from the attacks of robbers. The Eschernheim Tower is 
 interesting from another circunistance, which, whether true or 
 not, is universally believed. When Frankfort was under the 
 sway of a prince, a Swiss hunter, for some civil offence, was 
 condemned to die. He begged his life from the prince, who 
 granted it only on condition that he should fire the figure 9 with 
 
96 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 his rifle through the vane of this tower. He agreed, and did it ; 
 and at tlie present time, one can distinguish a rude 9 on the vane, 
 as if cut with bullets, while two or three marks at the side appear 
 to be from shots that failed. 
 
 The promise of spring which lately visited us, was not destined 
 for fulfilment. Shortly afterwards it grew cold again, with a suc- 
 cession of snows and sharp northerly winds. Such weather at 
 the commencement of spring is not uncommon at home ; but here 
 they say there has not been such a winter known for 150 years. 
 In the north of Prussia many persons have been starved to death 
 on account of provisions becoming scarce. Among the Hartz 
 also, the suffering is very great. We saw something of the mis- 
 ery even here. It was painful to walk through the streets and 
 see so many faces bearing plainly the marks of want, so many 
 pale, hollow-eyed creatures, with suffering written on every fea- 
 ture. We were assailed wdth petitions for help which could not 
 be relieved, though it pained and saddened the heart to deny. The 
 women, too, labor like brutes, day after day. Many of them 
 appear cheerful and contented, and are no doubt, tolerably happy, 
 for the Germans have all true, warm hearts, and are faithful to 
 one another, as far as poverty will permit ; but one cannot see 
 old, gray-headed women, carrying loads on their heads as heavy 
 as themselves, exposed to all kinds of weather and working from 
 morning till night, without pity and indignation. 
 
 So unusually severe has been the weather, that the deer and 
 liares in the mountains near, came nearly starved and tamed 
 down by hunger, into the villages to hunt food. The people fed 
 them every day, and also carried grain into the fields for the par- 
 tridges and pheasants, who flew up to them like domestic fowls. 
 The poor ravens made me really sorry ; some lay dead in the 
 fields and many came into the city perfectly tame, flying along the 
 Main with wings hardly strong enough to bear up their skeleton 
 bodies. The storks came at the usual time, but went back again. 
 I hope Ihe year's blessing has not departed with them, according 
 to the olid German superstition. 
 
 March 26. — We have hopes of spring at last. Three days 
 ago the rain began and has continued with little intermission till 
 now. The air is warm, the snow goes fast, and every thing 
 
TflE FRANKFORT FAIR. 97 
 
 seems to announce that the long winter is breaking up. The 
 Main rises fast, and goes by the city like an arrow, whirling large 
 masses of ice upon the banks. The hills around are coming out 
 from under the snow, and the lilac-buds in the promenades begin 
 to expand for the second time. 
 
 The Fair has now commenced in earnest, and it is a most sin- 
 gular and interesting sight. The open squares are filled with 
 booths, leaving narrow streets between them, across which can- 
 vas is spread. Every booth is open and filled with a dazzling 
 display of wares of all kinds. Merchants assemble from all 
 parts of Europe. The Bohemians come with their gorgeous 
 crystal ware ; the Nurembergers with their toys, quaint and fan- 
 ciful as the old city itself; men from the Thuringian forest, with 
 minerals and canes, and traders from Berlin, Vienna, Paris and 
 Switzerland, with dry goods and wares of all kinds. Near the 
 Exchange are two or three companies of Tyrolese, who attract 
 much of my attention. Their costume is exceedingly picturesque. 
 The men have all splendid manly figures, and honor and bravery 
 are written on their countenances. One of the girls is a really 
 handsome mountain maiden, and with her pointed, broad-brimmed 
 Mack hat, as romantic looking as one could desire. The musi- 
 cians have arrived, and we are entertained the whole day long by 
 wandering bands, some of whom play finely. The best, which 
 is also the favorite company, is from Saxony, called " The Moun- 
 tain Boys." They are now playing in our street, and while 
 I write, one of the beautiful choruses from Norma comes up 
 through the din of the crowd. In fact, music is heard over the 
 whole city, and the throngs that fill every street with all sorts of 
 faces and dresses, somewhat relieve the monotony that was begin- 
 nincr to make Frankfort tiresome. 
 
 We have an ever-varied and interestincj scene from our window. 
 Besides the motley crowd of passers-by, there are booths and ta- 
 bles stationed thick below. One man in particular is busily en- 
 gaged in selling his store of blacking in the auction style, in a 
 manner that would do credit to a real Down-easter. He has 
 flaming certificates exhibited, and prefaces his calls to buy with a 
 high-sounding description of its wonderful qualities. He has a 
 bench in front, where he tests it on the shoes of his customers, or 
 
 6 
 
98 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 if none of these are disposed to try it, he rubs it on his own, 
 which shine like mirrors. So he rattles on with amazing fluency 
 in French, German and Italian, and this, with his black beard 
 and moustache and his polite, graceful manner, keeps a crowd 
 of customers around him, so that the wonderful blacking goes off 
 as fast as he can supply it. 
 
 April 6. — Old Winter's gates are shut close behind us, and the 
 sun looks down with his summer countenance. The air, after the 
 long cold rain, is like that of Paradise. All things are gay and 
 bright, and everybody is in motion. Spring commenced with 
 yesterday in earnest, and lo ! before night the roads were all dry 
 and fine as if there had been no rain for a month ; and the garden- 
 ers dug and planted in ground which, eight days before, was cov 
 ered with snow ! 
 
 After having lived through the longest winter here, for one 
 hundred and fifty years, we were destined to witness the greatest 
 flood for sixty, and little lower than any within the last three 
 hundred years. On the 28th of March, the river overflooded the 
 high pier along the Main, and rising higher and higher, began to 
 come into the gates and alleys. Before night the whole bank was 
 covered and the water intruded into some of the booths in the 
 Romerberg. When I went there the next morning, it was a sor- 
 rowful sight. Persons were inside the gate with boats ; so rapidly 
 had it risen, that many of the merchants had no time to move 
 their wares, and mus suffer great damage. They were busy 
 rescuing what property could be seized in the haste, and con- 
 structing passages into the houses which were surrounded. 'Ifo:^' •*• 
 one seemed to think of buying or selling, but only on the best 
 method to escape the danger. Along the Main it was still worse. 
 From the measure, it had risen seventeen feet above its usual 
 level, and the arches of the bridge were filled nearly to the top. 
 At the Upper-Main gate, every thing was flooded — houses, gar- 
 dens, workshops, &c. ; the water had even overrun the meadows 
 above and attacked the city from behind, so that a part of the 
 beautiful promenades lay deep under water. On the other side, 
 we could see houses standing in it up to the roof It came up 
 through the sewers into the middle of Frankfort; a large bony 
 of men were kept at work constructing slight bridges to walk on, 
 
AN INUNDATION. 99 
 
 and transporting boats to places where they were needed. This 
 was all done at the expense of the city ; the greatest readiness 
 was everywhere manifested to render all possible assistance. In 
 the Fischergasse, I saw them taking provisions to the people in 
 boats ; one man even fastened a loaf of bread to the end of a 
 broomstick and reached it across the narrow street from an upper 
 story window, to the neighbor opposite. News came that Hansen, 
 a village towards the Taunus, about two miles distant, was quite 
 under water, and that the people clung to the roofs and cried for 
 help ; but it was fortunately false. About noon, cannon shots 
 were heard, and twenty boats were sent out from the city. 
 
 In the afternoon I ascended the tower of the Cathedral, which 
 commands a wide view of the valley, up and down. Just above 
 the city the whole plain was like a small lake — between two and 
 three miles wide. A row of new-built houses stretched into it 
 like a long promontory, and in the middle, like an island, stood a 
 country-seat with large out-buildings. The river sent a long 
 arm out below, that reached up through the meadows behind the 
 city, as if to clasp it all and bear it away together. A heavy 
 storm was raging along the whole extent of the Taunus ; but a 
 rainbow stood in the eastern sky. I thought of its promise, and 
 hoped, for the sa^e of the hundreds of poor people who were suf- 
 fering by the waters, that it might herald their fall. 
 
 We afterwards went over to Sachsenhausen, which was, if pos- 
 sible, in a still more unfortunate condition. The water Rad pen- 
 etrated the passages and sewers, and from these leaped and rushed 
 lip into the streets, as out of a fountain. The houses next to the 
 Main, which were first filled, poured torrents out of the doors and 
 windows into the street below. These people were nearly all 
 poor, and could ill afford the loss of time and damage of property 
 it occasioned them. The stream was filled with wood and boards, 
 and even whole roofs, with the tiles on, went floating down. 
 The bridge was crowded with people ; one saw everywhere 
 mournful countenances, and heard lamentations over the catas- 
 ti'ophe. After sunset, a great cloud, filling half the sky, hung 
 above ; the reflection of its glowing crimson tint, joined to the 
 brown hue of the water, made it seem like a river of fire. 
 
 What a difference a little sunshine makes ! I could have for 
 
100 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 gotten the season the next day, but for the bare trees and swelL 
 ing Main, as I threaded my way through the hundreds of people 
 who thronged its banks. It was that soft warmth that comes with 
 the first spring days, relaxing the body and casting a dreamy hue 
 over the mind. I leaned over the bridge in the full enjoyment of 
 it, and listening to the roaring of the water under the arches, 
 forgot every thing else for a time. It was amusing to walk up 
 and down the pier and look at the countenances passing by, while 
 the phantasy was ever ready, weaving a tale for all. My favorite 
 Tyrolese were there, and I saw a Greek leaning over the stone 
 balustrade, wearing the red cap and white frock, and with the 
 long dark hair and fiery eye of the Orient. I could not but 
 wonder, as he looked at the dim hills of the Odenwald, along the 
 eastern horizon, whether they called up in his mind the purple 
 isles of his native Archipelago. 
 
 The general character of a nation is plainly stamped on the 
 countenances of its people. One who notices the faces in the 
 streets, can soon distinguish, by the glance he gives in going by, 
 the Englishman or the Frenchman from the German, and the 
 Christian from the Jew. Not less strikino- is the difference of 
 expression between the Germans themselves ; and in places 
 where all classes of people are drawn together, it is interesting 
 to observe how accurately these distinctions are drawn. The 
 boys have generally handsome, intelligent faces, and like all 
 boys, they are full of life and spirit, for they kno'«v nothing of the 
 laws by which their countiy is chained down, and would not 
 care for them, if they did. But with the exception of the stu- 
 dents, who talk, at least, of Liberty and Right, the young men 
 lose this spirit and at last settle down into the calm, cautious, 
 lethargic citizen. One distinguishes an Englishman and I should 
 think an American, also, in this respect, very easily ; the former, 
 moreover, by a certain cold stateliness and reserve. There is some- 
 thing, however, about a .Tew, whether English or German, which 
 marks him from all others. However different their faces, there 
 is a family character which runs through the whole of them. It 
 lays principally in tlieir high cheek-bones, prominent nose and 
 thin, compressed lips ; which, especially in elderly men, gives a 
 peculiar miserly expression that is unmistakeable. 
 
RISE OF THE WATER. 101 
 
 I regret to say, one looks almost in vain, in Germany, for a 
 handsome female countenance. Here and there, perhaps, is a 
 woman with regular features, but that intellectual expression, 
 which gives such a charm to the most common face, is wanting. 
 I have seen more beautiful women in one night, in a public as- 
 sembly in America, than during the seven months I have been 
 on the Continent. Some of the young Jewesses, in Frankfort, 
 are considered handsome, but their features soon become too 
 strongly marked. In a public walk the number of positively 
 ugly faces is really astonishing. 
 
 About ten o'clock that night, I heard a noise of persons run- 
 ning in the street, and going to the Romerberg, found the water 
 had risen, all at once, much higher, and was still rapidly in- 
 creasing. People were setting up torches and lengthening the 
 rafts, which had been already formed. The lower part of the 
 city was a real Venice — the streets were full of boats and peo- 
 ple could even row about in their own houses; though it was not 
 quite so bad as the flood in Georgia, where they went up stairs 
 to hed in boats ! I went to the bridge. Persons were callinor 
 around — " The water ! the water ! it rises continually !" The 
 river rushed through tlie arches, foaming and dashing with a 
 noise like thunder, and the red light of the torches along the 
 shore cast a flickering glare on the troubled waves. It was then 
 twenty -one feet above its usual level. Men were busy all 
 around, carrying boats and ladders to the places most threatened, 
 or emptying cellars into which it was penetrating. The sudden 
 swelling was occasioned by the coming down of the floods from 
 the mountains of Spessart. 
 
 Part of the upper quay cracked next morning and threatened 
 to fall in, and one of the projecting piers of the bridge sunk 
 away from the main body three or four inches. In Sachsenhau- 
 sen the desolation occasioned by the flood is absolutely frightful ; 
 several houses have fallen into total ruin. All business was 
 stopped for the day ; the Exchange was even shut up. As the 
 city depends almost entirely on pumps for its supply of water, and 
 these were filled with the flood, we have been drinking the muddy 
 current of the Main ever since. The damage to goods is very 
 great. The fair was stopped at once, and the loss in this respect 
 
i{)2 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 alone, must be several millions of florins. The water began to 
 fall on the Ist, and has now sunk about ten feet, so that most 
 of the houses are again released, though in a bad condition. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon, as I was sitting in my room, writing, I 
 heard all at once an explosion like a cannon in the street, fol- 
 lowed by loud and continued screams. Looking out the win- 
 dow, I saw the people rushing by with goods in their arms, some 
 wringing their hands and crying, others running in all directions. 
 Imagining that it was nothing less than the tumbling down of 
 one of the old houses, we ran down and saw a store a few doors 
 distant in flames. The windows were bursting and flying out, 
 and the mingled mass of smoke and red flame reached half 
 way across the street. We learned afterwards it was occasioned 
 by the explosion of a jar of naphtha, which instantly enveloped 
 the whole room in fire, the people barely escaping in time. The 
 persons who had booths near were standing still in despair, while 
 the flames were beginning to touch their property. A few butch- 
 ers who first came up, did almost everything. A fire engine 
 arrived soon, but it was ten minutes before it began to play, and 
 by that time the flames were coming out of the upper stories. 
 Then the supply of water soon failed, and though another engine 
 came up shortly after, it was sometime before it could be put in 
 order, so that by the time they got fairly to work, the fire had 
 made its way nearly through the house. The water was first 
 brought in barrels drawn by horses, till some oflicer came and 
 opened the fire plug. The police were busy at work seizing 
 those who came by and setting them to work ; and as the alarm 
 had drawn a great many together, they at last began to effect 
 something. All the military are obliged to be out, and the offi- 
 cers appeared eager to use their authority while they could, for 
 every one was ordering and commanding, till all was a scene of 
 perfect confusion and uproar. I could not help laughing heart- 
 ily, so ludicrous did the scene appear. There were little, mis- 
 erable engines, not much bigger than a hand-cart, and looking as 
 if they had not been used for half a century, the horses running 
 backwards and forwards, dragging barrels which were emptied 
 into tubs, after which the water was finally dipped up in buckets, 
 and emptied into the engines ! These machines can only play 
 
A FIRE. 103 
 
 into the second or third story, after which the hose was taken 
 up in the houses on tlie opposite side of the street, and nnade to 
 play across. After four hours the fire was overcome, the house 
 being thoroughly burnt out ; it happened to have double fire 
 walls, which prevented those adjoining from catching easily. 
 
104 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DEAD AND THE DEAF MENDELSSOHN THE COMPOSER. 
 
 It is now a luxury to breathe. These spring days are the per- 
 fection of delightful weather. Imagine the delicious temperature 
 of our Indian summer joined to the life and freshness of spring, 
 add to this a sky of the purest azure, and a breeze tilled with the 
 odor of violets, — the most exquisite of all perfumes — and you 
 have some idea of it. The meadows are beginning to bloom., and 
 I have already heard the larks singing high up in the sky. Those 
 sacred birds, the storks, have returned and taken possession of 
 their old nests on the chimney-tops ; they are sometimes seen 
 walking about in the fields, with a very grave and serious air, as 
 if conscious of the estimation in v/hich they are held. Every- 
 body is out in the open air ; the woods, although tliey still look 
 wintry, are filled with people, and the boatmen on the Main are 
 busy ferrying gay parties across. The spring has been so long 
 in coming, that all are determined to enjoy it well, while it lasts. 
 
 We visited the cemetery a few da^^ ago. The dead-house, 
 where corpses are placed in the hope of resuscitation, is an ap- 
 pendage to cemeteries found only in Germany. We were shown 
 into a narrow chamber, on each side of which were six cells, into 
 which one could distinctly see, by means of a large plate of glass. 
 In each of these is a bier for the body, directly above which 
 hangs a cord, having on the end ten thimbles, which are put upon 
 the fingers of the corpse, so that the slightest motion strikes a 
 bell in the watchman's room. Lamps are lighted at night, and 
 in winter the rooms are warmed. In the watciiman's chamber 
 stands a clock with a dial-plate of twenty-four hours, and oppo- 
 site every hour is a little plate, whicli can only be moved two 
 minutes before it strikes. If then the watchman has slept or 
 neglected his duty at that time, he cannot move it afterwards, and 
 
THE FRANKFORT CEMETERY. 105 
 
 his neglect is seen by the superintendent. In such a case, he is 
 severely fined, and for the second or third offence, dismissed. 
 There are other rooms adjoining, containing beds, baths, galvanic 
 battery, &c. Nevertheless, they say there has been no resusci- 
 tation during the fifteen years it has been established. 
 
 We afterwards went to the end of the cemetery to see the bas- 
 reliefs of Thorwaldsen, in the vault of the Bethmann family. 
 They are tlu'ee in number, representing the death of a son of the 
 present banker, Moritz von Bethmann, who was drowned in the 
 Arno about fourteen years ago. The middle one represents tiie 
 young man drooping in his chair, the beautiful Greek Angel of 
 Death standing at his back, with one arm over his shoulder, 
 while his younger brother is sustaining him, and receiving the 
 wreath that drops from his sinking hand. The young woman 
 who showed us these, told us of Thorwaldsen's visit to Frankfort, 
 about three years ago. She described him as a beautiful and 
 venerable old man, with long white locks hanging over his shoul- 
 ders, still vigorous and active for his years. There seems to have 
 been much resemblance between him and Dannecker — not only 
 in personal appearance and character, but in the simple and clas- 
 sical beauty of their works. 
 
 The cemetery contains many other monuments ; with the ex- 
 ception of one or two by Launitz, and an exquisite Death Angel 
 in sandstone, from a young Frankfort sculptor, they are not re- 
 markable. The common tomb-stone is a white wooden cross ; 
 opposite the entrance is a perfect forest of them, involuntarily re- 
 minding one of a company of ghosts, with outstretched arms. 
 These contain the names of the deceased with mottoes, some of 
 which are beautiful and toucliing, as for instance: '■^Through 
 darkness unto light ;'^ ^'' Weep not for her ; she is not dead, hut 
 sleepeth ;'^ " Slumber sweet f^' etc. The graves are neatly bor- 
 dered with grass, and plant^^d with flowers, and many of the 
 crosses have withered wreathes hanging upon them. In summer 
 it is a beautiful place ; in fact, the very name of cemetery ii\ 
 German — Friedhuf or Court of Peace — takes away the idea of 
 death ; the beautiful figure of the youth, with his inverted torch, 
 makes one think of the grave only as a place of repose. 
 
 On our way back we stopped at the Institute for the Deaf; for 
 
 6* 
 
106 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 by the new method of teaching they are no longer dumb. It is 
 a handsome building in the gardens skirting the city. We ap- 
 plied, and on learning we were strangers, they gave us permis- 
 sion to enter. On finding we were Americans, the instructress 
 immediately spoke of Dr. Howe, who had visited the Institute a 
 year or two before, and was much pleased to find that Mr. Den- 
 nett was acquainted with him. She took us into a room where 
 about fifteen small children were assembled, and addressing one 
 of the girls, said in a distinct tone : " These gentlemen are from 
 America ; the deaf children there speak with their fingers — canst 
 thou speak so ?" To which the child answered distinctly, but 
 with some effort : " No, we speak with our mouths." She then 
 spoke to several others with the same success ; one of the boys 
 in particular, articulated with astonishing success. It was inter- 
 esting to watch their countenances, which were alive with eager 
 attention, and to see the apparent efforts they made to utter the 
 words. They spoke in a monotonous tone, slowly and deliber- 
 ately, but their voices had a strange, sepulchral sound, which was 
 at first unpleasant to the ear. I put one or two questions to a lit- 
 tle boy, which he answered quite readily ; as I was a foreign'^r, 
 this was the best test that could be given of the success of the 
 method. We conversed afterwards with the director, who received 
 us kindly, and appointed a day for us to come and witness the 
 system more fully. He spoke of Dr. Howe and Horace Mann, 
 of Boston, and seemed to take a great interest in the introduction 
 of his system in America. 
 
 We went again at the appointed time, and as their drawing 
 teacher was there, we had an opportunity of looking over their 
 sketches, which were excellent. The director showed us the 
 manner of teaching them, with a looking-glass, in which they 
 were shown the different positions of the organs of the mouth, 
 and afterwards made to feel the vibrations of the throat and 
 breast, produced by the sound. He took one of the youngest 
 scholars, covered her eyes, and placing her hand upon his throat, 
 articulated the second sound of A. She followed him, making the 
 sound softer or louder as he did. All the consonants were made 
 distinctly, by placing her hand before his mouth. Tiieir exercises 
 m reading, speaking with one another, and writing from dictation, 
 
A DEAF SCULPTOR. 107 
 
 succeeded perfectly. He treated them all like his own children, 
 and sought by jesting and playing, to make the exercise appear 
 as sport. They call him father and appear to be much attached 
 to him. 
 
 One of the pupils, about fourteen years old, interested me 
 through his history. He and his sister were found in Sachsen- 
 hausen, by a Frankfort merchant, in a horrible condition. Their 
 mother had died about two years and a half before, and during 
 all that time their father had neglected them till they were near 
 dead through privation and filth. The boy was placed in this 
 Institute, and the girl in that of the Orphans. He soon began to 
 show a talent for modelling figures, and for some time he has 
 been taking lessons of the sculptor Launitz. I saw a beautiful 
 copy of a bas-relief of Thorwaldsen which he made, as well as 
 an original, very interesting, from its illustration of his history. 
 It was in two parts ; the first represented himself and his sister, 
 kneeling in misery before a ruined family altar, by which an an- 
 gel was standing, who took him by one hand, while with the other 
 he pointed to his benefactor, standing near. The other represented 
 the two kneeling in gratitude before a restored altar, on which 
 was the anchor of Hope. From above streamed down a light, 
 where two angels were rejoicing over their happiness. For a 
 boy of fourteen, deprived of one of the most valuable senses, and 
 taken from such a horrible condition of life, it is a surprising 
 work and gives brilliant hopes for his future. 
 
 We went lately into the Roemerberg, to see the Kaisersaal and 
 the other rooms formerly used by the old Emperors of Germany, 
 and their Senates. The former is now in the process of restora- 
 tion. The ceiling is in the gorgeous illuminated style of the mid- 
 dle ages ; along each side are rows of niches for the portraits of 
 the Emperors, which have been painted by the best artists in Ber- 
 lin, Dresden, Vienna and Munich. It is remarkable that the 
 number of the old niches in the hall should exactly correspond 
 with the number of the German Emperors, so that the portrait of 
 the Emperor Francis of Austria, who was the last, will close the 
 long rank coming down from Charlemagne. Ihe pictures, or at 
 least such of them as are already finished, ar^ kept in another 
 room ; they give one a good idea of the changing styles of royal 
 
108 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 costumes, from the steel shirt and helmet to the jewelled diadem 
 and velvet robe. I looked with interest on a painting of Frederic 
 Barbarossa, by Lessing, and mused over the popular traditiori 
 that he sits with his paladins in a mountain cave under the Castle 
 of KyfThauser, ready to come forth and assist his Fatherland in 
 the hour of need. There was the sturdy form of Maximilian ; 
 the martial Conrad ; and Ottos, Siegfrieds and Sigismunds in 
 plenty — many of whom moved a nation in their day, but are now 
 dust and forgotten. 
 
 I yesterday visited Mendelssohn, the celebrated composer. 
 Having heard some of his music this winter, particularly that 
 magnificent creation, the " Walpurgisnacht," 1 wished to obtain 
 his autograph before leaving, and sent a note for that purpose. 
 He sent a kind note in answer, adding a chorus out of the Walpur- 
 gisnacht from his own hand. After this, I could not repress the 
 desire of speaking with him. He received me with true German 
 cordiality, and on learning I was an American, spoke of having 
 been invited to attend a musical festival in New-York. He in- 
 vited me to call on him if he happened to be in Leipsic or Dres- 
 den when we should pass through, and spoke particularly of the 
 fine music there. I have rarely seen a man whose countenance 
 bears so plainly the stamp of genius. He has a glorious dark 
 eye, and Byron's expression of a " dome of thought," could never 
 be more appropriately applied than to his lofty and intellectual 
 forehead, tlie marble whiteness and polish of which are heightened 
 by the raven hue of his hair. He is about forty years of age, 
 in the noon of his fame and the full maturity of his genius. Al- 
 ready as a boy of fourteen he composed an opera, which was 
 played v/ith much success at Berlin ; he is now the first living 
 composer of Germany. Moses Mendelssohn, the celebrated Jewish 
 philosopher, was his grandfather ; and his father, now living, is 
 accustomed to say that in his youth he was spoken of as the son 
 of the great Mendelssohn ; now he is known as 'he father of the 
 great Mendelssohn ! 
 
SETTING OUT AGAIN. *09 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 JOURNEY ON FOOT FROM FRANKFORT TO CASSEL. 
 
 The day for leaving Frankfort came at last, and I bade adieu 
 to the gloomy, antique, but still quaint and pleasant city. I felt 
 like leaving a second home, so much had the memories of many 
 delightful hours spent there attached me to it : I shall long retain 
 the recollection of its dark old streets, its massive, devil-haunted 
 bridge and the ponderous cathedral, telling of the times of the 
 Crusaders. I toiled up the long hill on the road to Fried berg, 
 and from the tower at the top took a last look at the distant city, 
 with a heart heavier than the knapsack whose unaccustomed 
 weight rested uneasily on my shoulders. Being alone — starting 
 out into the wide world, where as yet I knew no one, — 1 felt much 
 deeper what it was to find friends in a strange land. But such is 
 the wanderer's lot. 
 
 We had determined on making the complete tour of Germany 
 on foot, and in order to vary it somewhat, my friend and I pro- 
 posed taking different routes from Frankfort to Leipsic. He 
 choose a circuitous course, by way of Nuremberg and the Thu- 
 nno-ian forests ; while I, whose fancy had been running wild with 
 Goethe's witches, preferred looking on the gloom and grandeur 
 of the ruu-o-ed Hartz. We both left Frankfort on the 23d of 
 April, each bearing a letter of introduction to the same person in 
 Leipsic, where we agreed to meet in fourteen days. As we were 
 oblio-ed to travel as cheaply as possible, I started with but seventy- 
 nine florins, (a florin is forty cents American) well knowing that 
 if I took more, I should, in all probability, spend proportionably 
 more also. Thus, armed with my passport, properly vised, a 
 knapsack weighing fifleen pounds and a cane from the Kentucky 
 Mammoth Cave, I began my lonely walk through Northern Ger- 
 many. 
 
110 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The warm weather of the week before had brought out the 
 foliage of the willows and other early trees — violets and cowslips 
 were springing up in the meadows. Keeping along the foot of 
 the Taunus, I passed over great, broad hills, which were brown 
 with the spring ploughing, and by sunset reached Friedberg — a 
 large city, on the summit of a hill. The next morning, after 
 sketching its old, baronial castle, I crossed the meadows to Nau- 
 heim, to see the salt springs there. They are fifteen in number; 
 the water, which is very warm, rushes up with such force as to 
 leap several feet above the earth. The buildings made for eva- 
 poration are nearly two miles in length ; a walk along the top 
 gives a delightful view of the surrounding valleys. After reach- 
 ing the chauss^e again, I was hailed by a wandering journeyman, 
 or handwerker, as they are called, who wanted company. As 1 
 had concluded to accept all offers of this kind, we trudged along 
 together very pleasantly. He was from Holstein, on the borders 
 of Denmark and was just returning home, after an absence of 
 six years, having escaped from Switzerland after the late battle 
 of Luzerne, which he had witnessed. He had his knapsack and 
 tools fastened on two wheels, which he drew after him quite con- 
 veniently. I could not help laughing at the adroit manner in 
 which he begged his way along, through every village. He would 
 ask me to go on and wait for him at the other end ; after a few 
 minutes he followed, with a handful of small copper money, which 
 he said he hsid fought for, — the handworker's term for begged. 
 
 We passed over long ranges of hills, with an occasional view 
 of the . Vogelsgebirge, or Bird's Mountains, far to the east. I 
 knew at length, by the pointed summits of the hills, that we were 
 approaching Giessen and the valley of the Lahn. Finally, two 
 sharp peaks appeared in the distance, each crowned with a pic- 
 turesque fo"f triess, while the spires of Giessen rose from the valley 
 below. Parting from my companion, I passed through the city 
 without stopping, for it was the time of the university vacation, 
 and Dr. Liebeg, the world-renowned chemist, whom I desired 
 to see, was absent. 
 
 Crossing a hill or two, I came down into the valley of the Lahn, 
 which flows through meadows of the brightest green, with red- 
 roofed cottages nestled among gardens and orchards upon its 
 
WALKING IN HESSE CASSEL. Ill 
 
 banks. The women here wear a remarkable costume, con- 
 sisting of a red boddice with white sleeves, and a dozen skirts, 
 one above another, reaching only to the knees. I slept again at 
 a little village among the hills, and started early for Marburg. 
 The meadows were of the purest emerald, through which the 
 stream wound its way, with even borders, covered to the water's 
 edge with grass so smooth and velvety, that a fairy might have 
 danced alongf on it for miles without stumblino- over an uneven tuft. 
 This valley is one of the finest districts in Germany. I thought, 
 as I saw the peaceful inhabitants at work in their fields, I had 
 most probably, on the battle-field of Brandy wine, walked over the 
 bones of some of their ancestors, whom a despotic prince had torn 
 from their happy homes, to die in a distant land, fighting against 
 the cause of freedom. 
 
 I now entered directly into the heart of Hesse Cassel. The 
 country resembled a collection of hills thrown together in confu- 
 sion — sometimes a wide plain left between them, sometimes a 
 clustre of wooded peaks, and here and there a single pointed sum- 
 mit rising above the rest. The vallies were green as ever, the 
 hill-sides freshly ploughed and the forests beginning to be colored 
 by the tender foliage of the larch and birch. I walked two or 
 three hours at a " stretch," and then, when I could find a dry, 
 shady bank, 1 would rest for half an hour and finish some hastily- 
 sketched landscape, or lay at full length, with my head on my 
 knapsack, and peruse the countenances of those passing by. The 
 observation which every traveller excites, soon ceases to be em- 
 barrassing. It was at first extremely unpleasant ; but I am now 
 so hardened, that the strange, magnetic iufluence of the human 
 eye, which we cannot avoid feeling, passes by me as harmlessly 
 as if turned aside by invisible mail. 
 
 During the day several showers came by, but as none of them 
 penetrated further than my blouse, I kept on, and reached about 
 sunset a little village in the valley. I chose a small inn, which 
 had an air of neatness about it, and on going in, the tidy land- 
 lady's " be you welcome," as she brought a pair of slippers for 
 my swollen feet, made me feel quite at home. After being fur- 
 nished with eggs, milk, butter and bread, for supper, which I ate 
 while listening to an animated discussion between the village 
 
112 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 schoolmaster and some farmers, I was ushered into a clean, 
 sanded bedroom, and soon forgot all fatigue. For this, with 
 breakfast in the morning, the bill was six and a half groschen — 
 about sixteen cents ! The air was freshened by the rain and I 
 journeyed over the hills at a rapid rate. Stopping for dinner at 
 the large village of Wabern, a boy at the inn asked me if I was 
 going to America ? I said no, I came from there. He then 
 asked me many silly questions, after which he ran out and told 
 the people of the village. When 1 set out again, the children 
 pointed at me and cried : " see there ! he is from America !" and 
 the men took off their hats and bowed ! 
 
 The sky was stormy, which added to the gloom of the hills 
 around, though some of the distant ranges lay in mingled light 
 and shade — the softest alternation of purple and brown. There 
 were many isolated, rocky hills, two of wliich interested me, 
 through their attendant legends. One is said to have been the 
 scene of a battle between the Romans and Germans, where, 
 after a long conflict the rock opened and swallowed up the 
 former. The other, which is crowned with a rocky wall, so like 
 a ruined fortress, as at a distance to be universally mistaken for 
 one, tradition says is the death-place of Charlemagne, who still 
 walks around its summit every night, clad in complete armor. 
 On ascending a hill late in the afternoon, I saw at a great dis- 
 tance the statue of Hercules, which stands on the Wilhelmshohe, 
 near Cassel. Night set in with a dreary rain, and I stopped at 
 an inn about five miles short of the city. While tea was prepar- 
 ing a company of students came in and asked for a separate 
 room. Seeing I was alone, they invited me up with them. They 
 seemed much interested in America, and leaving the table grad- 
 ually, formed a ring around me, where I had enough to do to 
 talk with them all at once. When the omnibus came along, the 
 most of them went with it to Cassel ; but five remained and per- 
 suaded me to set out with them on foot. They insisted on car- 
 rying my knapsack the whole way, through the rain and dark- 
 ness, and when I had passed the city gate with them, unchal- 
 lenged, conducted me to the comfortable hotel, " Zur Krone.'^ 
 
 It is a pleasant thing to wake up in the morning in a strange 
 city. Every thing is new ; you walk around it for the first time 
 
WILHELMSHOHE. Ii3 
 
 in the full enjoyment of the novelty, or the not less agreeable 
 feeling of surprise, if it is different from your anticipations. Two 
 of my friends of the previous night called for me in the morning, 
 to show me around the city, and the first impression, made in 
 such agreeable company, prepossessed me very favorably. I 
 shall not, however, take up time in describing its many sights, 
 particularly the Frederick's Platz, where the statue of Frederick 
 the Second, who sold ten thousand of his subjects to England, has 
 been re-erected, after having lain for years in a stable where it 
 was thrown by the French. 
 
 1 was much interested in young Carl K , one of my new 
 
 acquaintances. His generous and unceasing kindness first won 
 my esteem, and I found on nearer acquaintance, the qualities of 
 his mind equal those of his heart. I saw many beautiful poem.« 
 of his which were of remarkable merit, considering his youth, 
 and thought I could read in his dark, dreamy eye, the uncon- 
 scious presentiment of a power he does not yet possess. He 
 seemed as one I had known for years. 
 
 He, Vv'ith a brother student, accompanied me in the afternoon, 
 to Wilhelmshohe, the summer residence of the Prince, on the 
 side of a range of mountains three miles west of the city. The 
 road leads in a direct line to the summit of the mountain, which 
 is thirteen hundred feet in height, surmounted by a great struc- 
 ture, called the Giant's Castle, on the summit of which is a py- 
 ramid ninety-six feet high, supporting a statue of Hercules, copied 
 after the Farnese, and thirty-one feet in height. By a gradual 
 ascent through beautiful woods, we reached the princely resi- 
 dence, a magnificent mansion standing on a natural terrace of 
 the mountain. Near it is a little theatre built by Jerome 
 Buonaparte, in which he himself used to play. We looked into 
 the green house in passing, where the floral splendor of every 
 zone was combined. There were lofty halls, with glass roofs, 
 where the orange grew to a great tree, and one could sit in myr- 
 tle bowers, with the brilliant bloom of the tropics around him. 
 It was the only thing there I was guilty of coveting. 
 
 The greatest curiosity is the water-works, which are perhaps 
 unequalled in the world. The Giant's Castle on the summit 
 contains an immense tank in which water is kept for the pur- 
 
114 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 pose; but unfortunately, at the time I was there, the pipes, which 
 had been frozen through the winter, were not in condition to play. 
 From the summit an inclined plane of masonry descends the 
 mountain nine hundred feet, broken every one hundred and fifty 
 feet by perpendicular descents. These are the Cascades, down 
 which the water first rushes from the tank. After being again 
 collected in a great basin at the bottom, it passes into an aque- 
 duct, built like a Roman ruin, and goes over beautiful arches 
 through the forest, where it falls in one sheet down a deep preci- 
 pice. When it has descended several other beautiful falls, made 
 in exact imitation of nature, it is finally collected and forms the 
 great fountain, which rises twelve inches in diameter from the 
 middle of a lake to the height of one hundred and ninety feet ! 
 We descended by lovely walks through the forest to the Lowen- 
 burg, built as the ruin of a knightly castle, and fitted out in 
 every respect to correspond wdth descriptions of a fortress in the 
 olden time, with moat, drawbridge, chapel and garden of pyrami- 
 dal trees. Farther below^ are a few small houses, inhabited by 
 the descendants of the Hessians who fell in America, supported 
 here at the Prince's expense ! 
 
MUx\DEN IN HANOVER. 115 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ADVENTURES AMONG THE HARTZ. 
 
 On taking leave of Carl at the gate over the Gottingen road, 1 
 felt tempted to bestow a malediction upon traveling, from its mer- 
 ciless breaking of all links, as soon as formed. It was painful to 
 think we should meet no more. The tears started into his eyes, 
 and feeling a mist gathering over mine, I gave his hand a parting 
 pressure, turned my back upon Cassel and started up the long 
 mountain, at a desperate rate. On the summit I passed out of 
 Hesse into Hanover, and began to descend the remaining six 
 miles. The road went dov/n by many windings, but 1 shortened 
 the way considerably by a foot-path through a mossy old forest. 
 The hills bordering; the Weser are covered with wood, through 
 which I saw the little red-roofed city of Miinden, at the bottom. 
 I stopped there for the night, and next morning walked around 
 the place. It is one of the old German cities that have not yet 
 felt the effect of the changing spirit of the age. It is still walled, 
 thouo-h the towers are fallins^ to ruin. The streets are narrow, 
 crooked, and full of ugly old houses, and to stand in the little 
 square before the public buildings, one would think himself born 
 in the sixteenth century. Just below the city the Werra and 
 Fulda unite and form the Weser. The triangular point has been 
 made into a public walk, and the little steamboat was lying at 
 anchor near, waiting to start for Bremen. 
 
 In the afternoon I got into tlie omnibus for Gottingen. The 
 ride over the wild, dreary, monotonous hills was not at all inter- 
 esting. There were two other passengers inside, one of whom, a 
 grave, elderly man, took a great interest in America, but the con- 
 versation was principally on his side, for I had been taken with a 
 fever in Miinden. I lay crouched up in the corner of the vehi- 
 cle, trying to keep off the chills which constantly came over me, 
 
116 VIEWS A-FOOT- 
 
 and wishing only for Gottingen, that I might obtain medicine and 
 a bed. We reached it at last, and I got out with my knapsack 
 and walked wearily through half a dozen streets till I saw an 
 inn. But on entering, I found it so dark and dirty and unfriend- 
 ly, that I immediately went out again and hired the first pleasant 
 looking boy I met, to take me to a good hotel. He conducted me 
 to the first one in the city. I felt a trepidation of pocket, but my 
 throbbing head plead more powerfully, so I ordered a comfortable 
 room and a physician. The host, Herr Wilhelm, sent for Pro- 
 fessor Trefurt, of the University, who told me I had over-exerted 
 myself in walking. He made a second call the next day, when, 
 as he was retiring, I inquired the amount of his fee. He begged 
 to be excused and politely bowed himself out. 1 inquired the 
 meaning of this of Herr Wilhelm, who said it was customary for 
 travellers to leave what they chose for the physician, as there 
 was no regular fee. He added, moreover, that twenty groschen, 
 or about sixty cents, was sufficient for the two visits ! 
 
 I stayed in Gottingen two dull, dreary, miserable days, without 
 getting much better. I took but one short walk through the city, 
 in which I saw the outsides of a few old churches and got a hard 
 fall on the pavement. Thinking that the cause of my illness 
 might perhaps become its cure, I resolved to go on rather than 
 remain in the melancholy — in spite of its black-eyed maidens, 
 melancholy — Gottingen. On the afternoon of the second da)^, I 
 took the post to Nordheim, about twelve miles distant. The Got- 
 tingen valley, down which we drove, is green and beautiful, and 
 the trees seem to have come out all at once. We were not with- 
 in sight of the Hartz, but the mountains along the Weser were 
 visible on the left. The roads were extremely muddy from the 
 late rains, so that I proceeded but slowly. 
 
 A blue range along the horizon told me of the Hartz, as I 
 passed ; although there were some Jlne side-glimpses through the 
 hills, I did not see much of them till I reached Osterode, about 
 twelve miles further. Here the country begins to assume a dif- 
 ferent aspect. The city lies in a narrow valley, and as the road 
 goes down a steep hill towards it, one sees on each side many 
 quarries of gypsum, and in front the gloomy pine mountains are 
 piled one above another in real Alpine style. But alas ! the city, 
 
SCENERY OF THE HARTZ. 117 
 
 though it looks exceedingly romantic from above, is one oi" the 
 dirtiest I ever saw. I stopped at Herzberg, six miles farther, for 
 the night. The scenery was very striking ; and its effect was 
 much heightened by a sky full of black clouds, which sent down 
 a hail-storm as they passed over. The hills are covered with 
 pine, fir and larch. The latter tree, in its first foliage, is most 
 delicate and beautiful. Every bough is like a long ostrich plume, 
 and when one of them stands among the dark pines, it seems so 
 light and airy that the wind might carry it away. Just opposite 
 Herzberg, the Hartz stands in its gloomy and mysterious gran- 
 deur, and I went to sleep with the pleasant thought that an hour's 
 walk on the morrow would shut me up in its deep recesses. 
 
 The next morning I entered them. The road led up a nar- 
 row mountain valley, down which a stream was rushing — on all 
 sides were magnificent forests of pine. It was glorious to look 
 down their long aisles, dim and silent, with a floor of thick green 
 moss. There was just room enough for the road and the wild 
 stream which wound its way zigzag between the hills, affording 
 the most beautiful mountain-view along the whole route. As I 
 ascended, the mountains became rougher and wilder, and in the 
 shady hollows were still drifts of snow. Enjoying every thing 
 very much, I walked on without taking notice of the road, and on 
 reaching a wild, rocky chasm called the " Schlucht," was obliged 
 to turn aside and take a footpath over a high mountain to Andrcas- 
 berg, a town built on a summit two thousand feet above the sea. 
 It is inhabited almost entirely by the workmen in the mines. 
 
 The way from Andreasberg to the Brocken leads along the 
 Rehberger Graben, which carry water about six miles for the ore- 
 works. After going through a thick pine wood, I came out on 
 the mountain-side, where rough crags overhung the way above, 
 and through the tops of the trees I had glimpses into the gorge 
 below. It was scenery of the wildest character. Directly op- 
 posite rose a mountain wall, dark and stern through the gloomy 
 sky ; far below the little stream of the Oder foamed over the 
 rocks with a continual roar, and one or two white cloud- wreaths 
 were curling up from the forests. 
 
 I followed the water-ditch around every projection of the moun- 
 tain, still ascending higher amid the same wild scenery, till at length 
 
118 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 I reached the Oderteich, a great dam, in a kind of valley formed 
 by some mountain peaks on the side of the Brocken. It has a 
 breastwork of granite, very firm, and furnishes a continual sup- 
 ply of water for the works. It began to rain soon, and I took a 
 foot.path which went winding up through the pine wood. The 
 storm still increased, till everything was cloud and rain, so I was 
 obliged to stop about five o'clock at Oderbruch, a toll-house and 
 tavern on the side of the Brocken, on the boundary between 
 Brunswick and Hanover — the second highest inhabited house in 
 the Hartz. The Brocken was invisible throug-h the storm and 
 the weather forboded a difficult ascent. The night was cold, but 
 by a warm fire I let the winds howl and the rain beat. When I 
 awoke the next morning, we were in clouds. They were thick 
 on every side, hiding what little view there was through the open- 
 ings of the forest. After breakfast, however, they were some- 
 what thinner, and I concluded to start for the Brocken. It is not 
 the usual way for travellers who ascend, being not only a bad 
 road but difficult to find, as I soon discovered. The clouds gath- 
 ered around again after I set out, and I was obliged to walk in a 
 storm of mingled rain and snow. The snow lay several feet deep 
 in the forests, and the path was, in many places, quite drifted 
 over. The white cloud-masses were whirled past by the wind, 
 continually enveloping me and shutting out every view. Durinor 
 the winter the path had become, in many places, the bed of a 
 mountain torrent, so that I was obliged sometimes to wade knee- 
 deep in snow, and sometimes to walk over the wet, spongy moss, 
 crawling under the long, dripping branches of the stunted pines. 
 After a long time of such dreary travelling, I came to two rocks 
 called the Stag Horns, standing on a little peak. The storm, now 
 all snow, blew more violently than ever, and the path became lost 
 under the deep drifts. 
 
 Comforting myself with the assurance that if I could not find 
 it, I could at least make my way back, I began searching, and 
 after some time, came upon it again. Here the forest ceased ; 
 the way led on large stones over a marshy ascending plain, but 
 what was above, or on either side, I could not see. It was soli- 
 tude of the most awful kind. There was nothing but the storm, 
 which had already wet me through, and the bleak gray waste of 
 
CLIMBING THE BROCKEN 119 
 
 tocks. It grew steeper and steeper ; I could barely trace the 
 path by the rocks which were worn, and the snow threatened 
 soon to cover these. Added to this, although the walking and 
 fresh mountain air had removed my illness, I was still weak from 
 the effects of it, and the consequences of a much longer exposure 
 to the storm were greatly to be feared. I was wondering if the 
 wind increased at the same rate, how much longer it would be 
 before I should be carried off, when suddenly something loomed 
 up above me through the storm. A few steps more and I stood 
 beside the Brocken House, on the very summit of the mountain ! 
 The mariner, who has been floatino- for davs on a wreck at sea, 
 could scarcely be more rejoiced at a friendly sail, than I was on 
 entering the low building. Two large Alpine dogs in the pas- 
 sage, as I walked in, dripping with wet, gave notice to the in- 
 mates, and I was soon ushered into a warm room, where I changed 
 my soaked garments for dry ones, and sat down by the fire with 
 feelings of comfort not easily imagined. The old landlord was 
 quite surprised, on hearing the path by which I came, that I found 
 the way at all. The summit was wrapped in the thickest cloud, 
 and he gave me no hope for several hours of any prospect at all, 
 so I sat down and looked over the Stranger's Album. 
 
 1 saw but two names from the United States — B. F. Atkins, of 
 Boston, and C. A. Hay, from York, Pa. There were a great 
 many long-winded German poems — among them, one by Schell- 
 ing, the philosopher. Some of them spoke of having seen the 
 "Spectre of the Brocken." I inquired of the landlord about the 
 phenomenon ; he says in winter it is frequently seen, in summer 
 more seldom. The cause is very simple. It is always seen at 
 sunrise, when the eastern side of the Brocken is free from clouds, 
 and at the same time, the mist rises from the valley on the oppo- 
 sits side. The shadow of every thing on the Brocken is then 
 thrown in grand proportions upon the mist, and is seen surrounded 
 with a luminous halo. It is somewhat singular that such a spec- 
 tacle can be seen upon the Brocken alone, but this is probably ac- 
 counted for by the formation of the mountain, which collects the 
 mist at just such a distance from the summit as to render the 
 sliadow visible. 
 
 Soon after dinner the storm subsided and the clouds separated 
 
l2o views a-foot. 
 
 a little. I could see down through the rifts on the plains of 
 Brunswick, and sometimes, when they opened a little more, the 
 mountains below us to the east and the adjoining plains, as far 
 as Magdeburg. It was like looking on the earth from another 
 planet, or from some point in the air which had no connection 
 with it ; our station was completely surrounded by clouds, roll- 
 ing in great masses around us, now and then giving glimpses 
 through their openings of the blue plains, dotted with cities and 
 villages, far below. At one time when they were tolerably well 
 separated, I ascended the tower, fifty feet high, standing near 
 the Brocken House. The view on three sides was quite clear, 
 and I can easily imagine what a magnificent prospect it must be 
 in fine weather. The Brocken is only about four thousand feet 
 high, nearly the same as the loftiest peak of the Catskill, but 
 being the highest mountain in Northern Germany, it commands 
 a more extensive prospect. Imagine a circle described with a 
 radius of a hundred miles, comprising thirty cities, two or three 
 hundred villao;es and one whole mountain district ! We could 
 see Brunsv/ick and Magdeburg, and beyond them the great plain 
 which extends to the North Sea in one direction and to Berlin in 
 the other, while directly below us lay the dark mountains of the 
 Hartz, with little villages in their sequestered valleys. It was 
 but a few moments I could look on this scene — in an instant the 
 clouds sw^ept together again and completely hid it. In accord- 
 ance with a custom of the mountain, one of the girls made me a 
 " Brocken nosegay," of heather, lichens and moss. I gave her 
 a few pfennings and stowed it away carefully in a corner of my 
 knapsack. 
 
 I now began descending the east side, by a good road over 
 fields of bare rock and through large forests of pine. Two or 
 three bare brown peaks rose opposite with an air of the wildest 
 sublimity, and in many places through the forest towered lofty 
 crags. This is the way by which Goethe brings Faust up the 
 Brocken, and the scenery is graphically described in that part 
 of the poem. At the foot of the mountain is the little village of 
 Schiercke, the highest in the Hartz. Here I took a narrow path 
 through the woods, and after following a tediously long road over 
 the hills, reached Elbingerode, where I spent the night, and left 
 
THE ROSSTRAPPE AND ITS LEGEND. 121 
 
 the next morning for Blankenburg. I happened to take the 
 wrong roadj however, and went through Rubeland, a little vil- 
 lage in the valley of the Bode. There are many iron works 
 here, and two celebrated caves, called " Baumann's Hohle," and 
 " Biel's Hohle." I kept on through the gray, rocky hills to Hutten- 
 rode, where 1 inquired the way to the Rosstrappe, but was directed 
 wrong, and after walking nearly two hours in a heavy rain, ar- 
 rived at Ludwigshutte, on the Bode, in one of the wildest and 
 loneliest corners of the Hartz. I dried my wet clothes at a little 
 inn, ate a dinner of bread and milk, and learning that I was 
 just as far from the Rosstrappe as ever, and that the way was 
 impossible to find alone, I hunted up a guide. 
 
 We went over the mountains through a fine old forest, for 
 about two hours, and came out on the brow of a hill near the 
 end of the Hartz, with a beautiful view of the country below 
 and around. Passing the little inn, the path led through thick 
 bushes along the summit, over a narrow ledge of rocks that 
 seemed to stretch out into the air, for on either side the foot of 
 the precipice vanished in the depth below. 
 
 Arrived at last at the end, I looked around me. What a spec- 
 tacle ! I was standing on the end of a line of precipice which 
 ran out from the mountain like a wall for several hundred feet — 
 the hills around rising up perpendicularly from the gorge be- 
 low, where the Bode pressed into a narrow channel foamed its 
 way through. Sharp masses of gray rock rose up in many places 
 from the main body like pillars, with trees clinging to the clefts, 
 and although the defile was near seven hundred feet deep, the 
 summits, in one place, were very near to one another. Near the 
 point at which I stood, which was secured by a railing, was an 
 impression in the rock like the hoof of a giant horse, from which 
 the place takes its name. It is very distinct -and perfect, and 
 nearly two feet in length. 
 
 I went back to the little inn and sat down to rest and chat 
 awhile with the talkative landlady. Notwithstanding her horrible 
 Prussian dialect, I was much amused with the budget of wonders, 
 which she keeps for the information of travelers. Among other 
 things, she related to me the legend of the Rosstrappe, which I 
 give ill her own words : " A great many hundred years ago, 
 
 7 
 
122 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 when there were plenty of giants through the world, there was a 
 certain beautiful princess, who was very much loved by one of 
 them. Now, although the parents of this princess were afraid 
 of the giant, and wanted her to marry him, she herself hated 
 him, because she was in love with a brave knight. But, you see, 
 the brave knight could do nothing against the great giant, and 
 so a day was appointed for the wedding of the princess. When 
 they were married, the giant had a great feast and he and all 
 his servants got drunk. So the princess mounted his black horse 
 and rode away over the mountains, till she reached this valley. 
 She stood on that square rock which you see there opposite to us, 
 and when she saw her knight on this side, where we are, she 
 danced for joy, and the rock is called the Tcuizplatz, to this very 
 day. But when the giant found she had gone, he followed her 
 as fast as he might ; then a holy bishop, who saw the princess, 
 blessed the feet of her horse, and she jumped on it across to this 
 side, where his fore feet made two marks in the rock, though 
 there is only one left now. You should not laugh at this, for if 
 there were giants then, there must have been very big horses too, 
 as one can see from the hoofmark, and the valley was narrower 
 then than it is now. My dear man, who is very old now, (you 
 see him through the bushes, there, digging,) says it was so when 
 he was a child, and that the old people living then, told him 
 there were once four just such hoof-tracks, on the Tanzplatz, 
 where the horse stood before he jumped over. And we cannot 
 doubt the words of the good old people, for there were many 
 strange things then, we all know, v/hich the dear Lord does not 
 let happen now. But I must tell you, lieber Herr, that the giant 
 tried to jump after her and fell away down into the valley, 
 where they say he lives yet in the shape of a big black dog, 
 guarding the crown of the princess, which fell off as she was 
 going over. But this part of the story is perhaps not true, as 
 nobody, that I ever heard of, has seen either the black dog or the 
 crown 1" 
 
 After listening to similar gossip for a while, I descended the 
 mountain-side, a short distance to the Biilowshohe. This is a 
 rocky shaft that shoots upward from the mountain, having from 
 its top a glorious view through the door which the Bode makes in 
 
A SUSPICIOUS INN 123 
 
 passing out of the Hartz. I could see at a great distance the 
 towers of Magdeburg, and further, the vast plain stretching away 
 like a sea towards Berlin. From Thale, the village below, where 
 the air was warmer than in the Hartz and the fruit-trees already 
 in blossom, it was four hours' walk to Halberstadt, by a most tire- 
 some road over long ranges of hills, all ploughed and planted, and 
 extending as far as the eye could reach, without a single fence or 
 hedge. It is pleasant to look over scenes where nature is so free 
 and unshackled ; but the people, alas ! wear the fetters. The 
 setting sun, which lighted up the old Brocken and his snowy top, 
 showed me also Halberstadt, the end of my Hartz journey ; but 
 its deceitful towers fled as I approached, and I was half dead v/ith 
 fatigue on arriving there. 
 
 The ghostly, dark and echoing castle of an inn (the Black 
 Eagle) where I stopped, was enough to inspire a lonely traveller, 
 like myself, with unpleasant fancies. It looked heavy and mas- 
 sive enough to have been a stout baron's stronghold in some for- 
 mer century ; the taciturn landlord and his wife, who, with a 
 solemn servant girl, were the only tenants, had grown into per- 
 fect keeping with its gloomy character. When I groped my way 
 under the heavy, arched portal into the guests' room — a large, 
 lofty, cheerless hall — all was dark, and I could barely perceive, 
 by the little light which came through two deep-set windows, the 
 inmates of the house, sitting on opposite sides of the room. After 
 some delay, the hostess brought a light. I entreated her to bring 
 me something instantly for supper, and in half an hour she placed 
 a mixture on the table, the like of which I never wish to taste 
 again. She called it beer-soup f I found, on examination, it was 
 beer, boiled with meat, and seasoned strongly with pepper and 
 salt ! My hunger disappeared, and pleading fatigue as an excuse 
 for want of appetite, 1 left the table. When I was ready to re- 
 tire, the landlady, who had beeu sitting silently in a dark cor- 
 ner, called the solemn servant girl, who took up a dim lamp, and 
 bade me follow her to the " sleeping chamber." Taking up my 
 knapsack and staff, I stumbled down the steps into the arched 
 gateway ; before me was a long, damp, deserted court-yard, across 
 which the girl took her way. I followed her with some astonish 
 ment, imagining where the sleeping chamber could be, when she 
 
124 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 stopped at a small, one-story building, standing alone in the yard. 
 Opening the door with a rusty key, she led me into a bare room, 
 a few feet square, opening into another, equally bare, with the 
 exception of a rough bed. "Certainly," said I, "I am not to 
 sleep here !" " Yes," she answered, " this is the sleeping cham- 
 ber," at the same time setting down the light and disappearing. 
 I examined the place — it smelt mouldy, and the walls were cold 
 and damp ; there had been a window at the head of the bed, but 
 it was walled up, and that at the foot was also closed to within a 
 few inches of the top. The bed was coarse and dirty ; and on 
 turning down the ragged covers, I saw with horror, a dark brown 
 stain near the pillow, like tha" of blood ! For a moment I hesi- 
 tated whether to steal out of tne inn, and seek another lodging, 
 late as it was ; at last, overcoming my fears, I threw my clothes 
 into a heap, and lay down, placing my heavy staff at the head of 
 the bed. Persons passed up and down the courtyard several 
 times, the light of their lamps streaming through the narrow aper- 
 ture up against the ceiling, and I distinctly heard voices, which 
 seemed to be near the door. Twice did I sit up in bed, breath- 
 less, with my hand on the cane, in the most intense anxiety ; but 
 fatigue finally overcame suspicion, and I sank into a deep sleep, 
 from which I was gladly awakened by daylight. In reality, 
 there may have been no cause for my fears — I may have wronged 
 the lonely innkeepers by them ; but certainly no place or cir- 
 cumstances ever seemed to me more appropriate to a deed of 
 robbery or crime. I left immediately, and when a turn in the 
 street hid the ill-omened front of the inn, I began to breathe with 
 my usual freedom. 
 
MAGDEBURG. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 NOTES IN LETPSIC AND DRESDEN. 
 
 Leipsic, May 8. — I have now been nearly two days in this 
 wide-famed city, and the more I see of it the better I like it. It 
 i*s a pleasant, friendly town, old enough to be interesting, and new 
 enough to be comfortable. There is much active business life, 
 through which it is fast increasing in size and beauty. Its pub- 
 lishing establishments are the largest in the world, and its annual 
 fairs attended by people from all parts of Europe. This is much 
 for a city ^ to accomplish, situated alone in the middle of a great 
 plain, with no natural charms of scenery or treasures of art to 
 attract strangers. The energy and enterprise of its merchants 
 have accomplished all this, and it now stands, in importance, 
 among the first cities of Europe. 
 
 The bad weather obliged me to take the railroad at Halber- 
 stadt, to keep the appointment with my friend, in this city. I left 
 at six for Magdeburg, and after two hours' ride over a dull, tire- 
 some plain, rode along under the mounds and fortifications by the 
 side of the Elbe, and entered the old town. It was very cold, 
 and the streets were muddy, so I contented myself with looking 
 at the Broadway, (der hreite Weg,) the Cathedral and one or two 
 curious old churches, and in walking along the parapet leading 
 to the fortress, which has a view of the winding Elbe. The 
 Citadel was interesting from having been the prison in which 
 Baron Trenck was confined, whose narrative I read years ago. 
 when quite a child. 
 
 We were soon on the road to Leipsic. The way was over one 
 great, uninterrupted plain — a more monotonous country, even, 
 than Belgium. Two of the passengers in the car with me were 
 much annoyed at being taken by the railway agents for Poles. 
 Their movements were strictly watched by the gens d'arme at 
 
126 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 every station we passed, and they were not even allowed to sil 
 together ! At Kothen a branch track went off to Berlin. We 
 passed by Halle without being able to see anything of it or its 
 University, and arrived here in four hours after leaving Magde- 
 burg. 
 
 On my first walk around the cit}'', yesterday morning, I passed 
 the Augustus Platz — a broad green lawn, on which front the Uni- 
 versity and several other public buildings. A chain of beautiful 
 promenades encircles the city, on the site of its old fortifications. 
 Following their course through walks shaded by lerge trees and 
 bordered with flowering shrubs, I passed a small but chaste mon- 
 ument to Sebastian Bach, the composer, which was erected almost 
 entirely at the private cost of Mendelssohn, and stands opposite 
 the building in which Bach once directed the choirs. As I was 
 standing beside it, a glorious choral, swelled by a hundred voices, 
 came through the open windows, like a tribute to the genius of 
 the great master. 
 
 Having found my friend we went together to the Steim Warte, 
 or Observatory, which gives a fine view of the country around 
 the city, and in particular the battle field. The Castellan who is 
 stationed there, is well acquainted with the localities, and pointed 
 out the position of the hostile armies. It was one of the most 
 bloody and hard-fought battles which history records. The army 
 of Napoleon stretched like a semicircle around the southern and 
 eastern sides of the city, and the plain beyond was occupied by 
 the allies, whose forces met together here. Schwarzenberg, with 
 his Austrians, came from Dresden ; Blucher, from Halle, with 
 the Emperor Alexander. Their forces amounted to three hun- 
 dred thousand, while those of Napoleon ranked at one hundred 
 and ninety-two thousand men. It must have been a terrific scene. 
 Four days raged the battle, and the meeting of half a million of 
 men in deadly conflict was accompanied by the thunder of sixteen 
 hundred cannon. The small rivers which flow through Leipsic 
 were swollen with blood, and the vast plain was strewed with 
 more than fifty thousand dead. It is difficult to conceive of such 
 slaughter, while looking at the quiet and tranquil landscape 
 below. It seemed more like a legend of past ages, when ignor- 
 ance and passion led men to murder and destroy, than an event 
 
BATTLE SCENES. 127 
 
 which the last half century witnessed. For the sake of humanity 
 it is to be hoped that the world will never see such another. 
 
 There are some lovely walks around Leipsic. We went yes- 
 terday afternoon with a few friends to the Rosenthal, a beautiful 
 meadow, bordered by forests of the German oak, very few of 
 whose Druid trunks have been left standing. There are Swiss 
 cottages embowered in the foliage, where every afternoon the 
 social citizens assemble to drink their coffee and enjoy a few 
 hours' escape from the noisy and dusty streets. One can walk 
 for miles along these lovely paths by the side of the velvet mea- 
 dows, or the banks of some shaded stream. We visited the little 
 village of Golis, a shor-t distance off, where, in the second story 
 of a little white house, hangs the sign : " Schiller's Room." Some 
 of the Leipsic literati have built a stone arch over the entrance, 
 with the inscription above : " Here dwelt Schiller in 1795, and 
 wrote his Hymn to Joy." Every where through Germany the 
 remembrances of Schiller are sacred. In every city where he 
 lived, they show his dwelling. They know and reverence the 
 mighty spirit who has been among them. The little room where 
 he conceived that sublime poem is hallowed as if by the presence 
 of unseen spirits. 
 
 I was anxious to see the spot where Poniatowsky fell. We 
 returned over the plain to the city and passed in at the gate by 
 which the Cossacks entered, pursuing the flying French. Cross- 
 ing the lower part, we came to the little river Elster, in whose 
 waves the gallant prince sank. The stone bridge by which we 
 crossed was blown up by the French, to cut off pursuit. Napo- 
 leon had given orders that it should not be blown up till the 
 Poles had all passed over, as the river, though narrow, is quite 
 deep, and the banks are steep. Nevertheless, his officers did not 
 wait, and the Poles, thus exposed to the fire of the enemy, were 
 obliged to plunge into the stream to join the French army, which 
 had begun the retreat towards Frankfort. Poniatowsky, severely 
 wounded, made his way through a garden near and escaped on 
 horseback into the water. He became entangled among the fugi- 
 tives and sank. By walking a little distance alons!: the road to- 
 wards Frankfort, we could see the spot where his body was taken 
 out of the river; it i? now marked by a square stone, covered 
 
128 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 with the names of his countrymen who have visited it. We re- 
 turned through the narrow arched way, by which Napoleon fled 
 when the battle was lost. 
 
 Another interesting place in Leipsic is Auerback's Cellar, 
 which, it is said, contains an old manuscript history of Faust, 
 from which Goethe derived the first idea of his poem. He used 
 o frequent this cellar, and one of his scenes in " Faust" is laid 
 in it. We looked down the arched passage ; not wishing to pur- 
 chase any wine, we could find no pretence for entering. The 
 streets are full of book stores and one half the business of the 
 inhabitants appears to consist in printing, paper-making and bind- 
 ing. The publishers have a handsome Exchange of their own, 
 and during the Fairs, the amount of business transacted is enor- 
 mous. The establishment of Brockhaus is contained in an im- 
 mense building, adjoining which stands his dwelling, in the midst 
 of magnificent gardens. That of Tauchnitz is not less cele- 
 brated. His edition of the classics, in particular, are the best 
 that have ever been made ; and he has lately commenced pub- 
 lishing a number of English works, in a cheap form. Otto 
 Wigand, who has also a large establishment, has begun to issue 
 translations of American works. He has already published Pres- 
 cott and Bancroft, and I believe intends giving out shortly, trans- 
 lations from some of our poets and novelists. I became ac- 
 quainted at the Museum, with a young German author who had 
 been some time in America, and was well versed in our litera- 
 ture. He is now engaged in translating American works, one 
 of which — Hofiinan's " Wild Scenes of the Forest and Prairie" 
 — will soon appear. In no place in Germany have I found more 
 knowledge of our country, her men and her institutions, than in 
 Leipsic, and as yet I have seen few that would be preferable as 
 a place of residence. Its attractions lie not in its scenery, but 
 in the social and intellectual character of its inhabitants. 
 
 May 11. — At last in this " Florence of the Elbe," as the Sax- 
 ons have christened it. Exclusive of its glorious galleries of 
 art, which are scarcely surpassed by any in Europe, Dresden 
 charms one by the natural beauty of its environs. It stands in 
 a curve of the Elbe, in the midst of green meadows, gardens and 
 fine old woods, with the hills of Saxony sweeping around like 
 
RAPHAEL'S MADONNA 129 
 
 an amphitheatre, and the craggy peaks of the Highlands looking 
 at it from afar. The domes and spires at a distance give it a 
 rich Italian look, which is heightened by the white villas, em- 
 bowered in trees, gleaming on the hills around. In the streets 
 there is no bustle of business — nothing of the din and confusion 
 of traific which mark most cities ; it seems like a place for study 
 and quiet enjoyment. 
 
 The railroad brought us in three hours from Leipsic, over the 
 eighty miles of plain that intervene. We came from the station 
 through the JSeustadt, passing the .Japanese Palace and the eques- 
 trian statue of Augustus the Strong. The magnificent bridge 
 over the Elbe was so much injured by the late inundation as to 
 be impassable ; we were obliged to go some distance up the river 
 bank and cross on a bridge of boats. Next morning my first 
 search was for the picture gallery. We set j^ "* random, and 
 after passing the Church of Our Lady, with its lofty dome of solid 
 stone, which withstood the heaviest bombs during the war with 
 Frederick the Great, came to an open square, one side of which 
 was occupied by an old, brown, red-roofed building, which I at 
 once recognized, from pictures, as the object of our search. 
 
 I have just taken a last look at the gallery this morning, and 
 lefl it with real regret ; for, during the two visits, Raphael's 
 heavenly picture of the Madonna and child had so grown into 
 my love and admiration, that it was painful to think I should 
 never see it again. There are many more which clung so 
 strongly to my imagination, gratifying in the highest degree the 
 love for the Beautiful, that I left them with sadness, and the 
 thought that I would now only have the memory. I can see the 
 inspired eye and god-like brow of the Jesus-child, as if I were 
 still standing before the picture, and the sweet, holy countenance 
 of the Madonna still looks upon me. Yet, though this picture 
 is a miracle of art, the first glance filled me with disappointment. 
 It has somewhat faded, during the three hundred years thai, 
 have rolled away since the hand of Raphael worked on the can- 
 vass, and the glass with which it is covered for better preser- 
 vation, injures the effect. After I had gazed on it awhile, 
 every thought of this vanished. The figure of the virgin seemed 
 to soar in the air, and it was difficult to think the clouds were 
 7* 
 
130 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 not in motion. An aerial lightness clothes her form, and it is 
 perfectly natural for such a figure to stand among the clouds. 
 Two divine cherubs look up from below, and in her arms sits 
 the sacred child. Those two faces beam from the picture like 
 those of angels. The wild, prophetic eye and lofty brow of the 
 young Jesus chains one like a spell. There is something more 
 than mortal in its expression — something in the infant face which 
 indicates a power mightier than the proudest manhood. There 
 is no glory around the head ; but the spirit which shines from 
 those features, marks his divinity. In the sweet face of the mother 
 there speaks a sorrowful foreboding mixed with its tenderness, 
 as if she knew the world into which the Saviour was born, and 
 foresaw the path in which he was to tread. It is a picture which 
 one can scarce look upon without tears. 
 
 There are in the same room six pictures by Correggio, which 
 are said to be among his best works ; one of them his celebrated 
 Magdalen. There is also Correggio's " Holy Night," or the 
 virgin with the shepherds in the manger, in which all the light 
 comes from the body of the child. The surprise of the shep- 
 herds is most beautifully expressed. In one of the halls there is 
 a picture by Van der Werff, in which the touching story of Ha- 
 gar is told more feelingly than words could do it. The young 
 Ishmael is represented full of grief at parting with Isaac, who, 
 in childish unconsciousness of what has taken place, draws in 
 sport the corner of his mother's mantle around him, and smiles 
 at the tears of his lost playmate. Nothing can come neater real 
 flesh and blood than the two portraits of Raphael Mengs, painted 
 by himself w^hen quite young. You almost think the artist has 
 in sport crept behind the frame, and wishes to make you believe 
 he is a picture. It would be impossible to speak of half the gems 
 of art contained in this unrivalled collection. There are twelve 
 large halls, containing in all nearly two thousand pictures. 
 
 The plain, south of Dresden, was the scene of the hard-fought 
 battle between Napoleon and the allied armies, in 1813. On the 
 heights above the little village of Racknitz, Moreau was shot on 
 the second day of the battle. We took a foot-path through the 
 meaf'ows, shaded by cherry trees in bloom, and reached the spot 
 after an hour's walk. The monument is simple — a square block 
 
THE GREEN GALLERY. 131 
 
 of granite, surmounted by a helmet and sword, with the inscrip- 
 tion : " The hero Moreau fell here hy the side of Alex(inder, Au- 
 gust 17th. 1813." I gathered, as a memorial, a few leaves of the 
 oak which shades it. 
 
 By applying an hour before the appointed time, we obtained 
 admission to the Royal Library. It contains three hundred thou- 
 sand volumes — among them the most complete collection of his- 
 torical works in existence. Each hall is devoted to a history of 
 a separate country, and one large room is filled with that of Sax- 
 ony alone. There is a large number of rare and curious manu- 
 scripts, among which are old Greek works of the seventh and 
 eighth centuries ; a Koran which once belonged to the Sultan 
 Bajazet; the handwriting of Luther and Melancthon ; a manu- 
 script volume with pen and ink sketches, by Albert Durer, and 
 the earliest works after the invention of printing. Among these 
 latter was a book published by Faust and Schaeffer, at Mayence, 
 in 1457. There were also Mexican manuscripts, written on the 
 Aloe leaf, and many illuminated monkish volumes of the middle 
 ages. 
 
 We were fortunate in seeing the Grime Gewolbe, or Green 
 Gallery, a collection of jewels and costly articles, unsurpassed in 
 Europe. The entrance is only granted to six persons at a time, 
 who pay a fee of two thalers. The customary way is to employ 
 a Loh?ibedienter, who goes around from one hotel to another, till 
 he has collected the number, when he brings them together and 
 conducts them to the person in the palace, who has charge of the 
 treasures. As our visit happened to be during the Pentecost holi- 
 days, when every body in Dresden goes to the mountains, there 
 was some difficulty in etfecting this, but after two mornings 
 spent in hunting up curious travelers, the servant finally con- 
 ducted us in triumph to the palace. The first hall into which we 
 were ushered, contained works in bronze. They were all small, 
 and chosen with regard to their artistical value. Some by John 
 of Bologna were exceedingly fine, as was also a group in iron, 
 cut out of a single block ; perhaps the only successful attempt in 
 this branch. The next room contained statues, and vases covered 
 with reliefs, in ivory. The most remarkable work was the fall 
 of Lucifer and his angels, ccitaining ninety-two figures in all, 
 
132 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 carved out of a single piece of ivory sixteen inches high ! It 
 was the work of an Italian monk, and cost hinn many years of 
 hard labor. There were two tables of mosaic-work, that would 
 not be out of place in the fabled halls of the eastern genii, so 
 much did they exceed my former ideas of human skill. The tops 
 were of jasper, and each had a border of fruit and flowers, in 
 which every color was represented by some precious stone, all 
 with the utmost delicacy and truth to nature ! It is impossible to 
 conceive the splendid effect it produced. Besides some fine pic- 
 tures on gold by Raphael Mengs, there was a Madonna, the 
 largest specimen of enamel painting in existence. 
 
 However costly the contents of these halls, they were only an 
 introduction to those which followed. Each one exceeded the 
 other in splendor and costliness. The walls were covered to the 
 ceiling with rows of goblets, vases, &c., of polished jasper, agate 
 and lapiz lazuli. Splendid mosaic tables stood around, with cas- 
 kets of the most exquisite silver and gold work upon them, and 
 vessels of solid silver, some of them weighing six hundred pounds 
 were placed at the foot of the columns. We were shown two 
 goblets, each prized at six thousand thalers, made of gold and 
 precious stones ; also the great pearl called the Spanish Dwarf, 
 nearly as large as a pullet's egg ; globes and vases cut entirely 
 out of the mountain crystal ; magnificent Nuremberg watches 
 and clocks, and a great number of figures, made ingeniously of 
 rough pearls and diamonds. The officer showed us a hen's egg 
 of silver. There was apparently nothing remarkable about it, 
 but by unscrewing, it came apart, and disclosed the yelk of gold. 
 This again opened and a golden chicken was seen ; by touching 
 a spring, a little diamond crown came from the inside, and the 
 crown being again taken apart, out dropped a valuable diamond 
 ring ! The seventh hall contains the coronation robes of Augus- 
 tus II., of Poland, and many costly specimens of carving in wood. 
 A cherry-stone is shown in a glass case, which has one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five faces, all perfectly finished, carved upon it \ 
 The next room we entered sent back a glare of splendor that per- 
 fectly dazzled us. It was all gold, diamond, ruby and sapphire ' 
 Every case sent out such a glow and glitter that it seemed like a 
 cage of imprisoned lightnings. Wherever the eye turned it was 
 
ROYAL TREASURES. 133 
 
 met by a blaze of broken rainbows. They were there by hun- 
 dreds, and every gem was a fortune. Whole cases of swords, 
 with hilts and scabbards of solid gold, studded with gems ; the 
 great two-handed coronation sword of the German emperors ; dag- 
 gers covered with brilliants and rubies; diamond buttons, chains 
 and orders, necklaces and bracelets of pearl and emerald, and 
 the order of the Golden Fleece made in gems of every kind. We 
 were also shown the largest known onyx, nearly seven inches 
 long and four inches broad ! One of the most remarkable works 
 is the throne and court of Aurungzebe, the Indian king, by Ding- 
 linger, a celebrated goldsmith of the last century. It contains 
 one hundred and thirty-two figures, all of enamelled gold, and 
 each one most perfectly and elaborately finished. It was pur- 
 chased by Prince Augustus for fifty-eight thousand thalers,* 
 which was not a high sum, considering that the making of it occu- 
 pied Dinglinger and thirteen workmen for seven years ! 
 
 It is almost impossible to estimate the value of the treasures 
 these halls contain. That of the gold and jewels alone must 
 be many millions of dollars, and the amount of labor expended 
 on these toys of royalty is incredible. As monuments of patient 
 and untiring toil, they are interesting : but it is sad to think how 
 much labor and skill and energy have been wasted, in producing 
 things which are useless to the world, and only of secondary im- 
 portance as works of art. Perhaps, however, if men could be 
 diverted by such play-things from more dangerous games, it would 
 be all the better. 
 
 * A Prussian or Saxon thaler is about 70 cts. 
 
134 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 RAMBBES IN THE SAXON SWITZERLAND. 
 
 After four days' sojourn in Dresden we shouldered our knap- 
 sacks, not to be laid down again till we reached Prague. We 
 were elated with the prospect of getting among the hills again, 
 and we heeded not the frequent showers which had dampened the 
 enjoyment of the Pentecost holidays, to the good citizens of 
 Dresden, and might spoil our own. So we trudged gaily along 
 the road to Pillnitz and waved an adieu to the domes behind us 
 as the forest shut them out from view. After two hours' walk 
 the road led down to the Elbe, where we crossed in a ferry-boat 
 to Pillnitz, the seat of a handsome palace and gardens, belonging 
 to the King of Saxony. He happened to be there at the time, on 
 an afternoon excursion from Dresden ; as we had seen him be- 
 fore, in the latter place, we passed directly on, only pausing to 
 admire the flower-beds in the palace court. The King is a tall, 
 benevolent looking man, and is apparently much liked by his 
 people. As far as I have yet seen, Saxony is a prosperous and 
 happy country. The people are noted all over Germany for theii 
 honest, social character, which is written on their cheerful, open 
 countenances. On our entrance into the Saxon Switzerland, at 
 Pillnitz, we were delighted with the neatness and home-like ap- 
 pearance of every thing. Every body greeted us ; if we asked 
 for information, they gave it cheerfully. The villages were all 
 pleasant and clean and the meadows fresh and blooming. 1 felt 
 half tempted to say, in the words of an old ballad, which I be- 
 lieve Longfellow has translated : 
 
 " Tlie fairest kingdom on this earth, 
 It is the Saxon land !" 
 
 Going along the left bank of the Elbe, we passed over mea- 
 
SAXON SCENERY. 135 
 
 dows purple with the tri-colored violet, which we have at home in 
 gardens, and every little bank was bright with cowslips. At 
 length the path led down into a cleft or ravine filled with trees, 
 whose tops were on a level with the country around. This is a 
 peculiar feature of Saxon scenery. The country contains many 
 of these clefts, some of which are several hundred feet deep, hav- 
 ing walls of perpendicular rock, in whose crevices the mountain 
 pine roots itself and grows to a tolerable height without any ap- 
 parent soil to keep it alive. We descended by a foot-path into 
 this ravine, called the Liebethaler Grund. It is wider than manv 
 of the others, having room enough for a considerable stream and 
 several mills. The sides are of sandstone rock, quite perpen- 
 dicular. As we proceeded, it grew narrower and deeper, while 
 the trees covering its sides and edges nearly shut out the sky. 
 An hour's walk brought us to the end, where we ascended grad- 
 ually to the upper level again. 
 
 After passing the night at the little village of Uttewalde, a 
 short distance further, we set out early in the morning for the 
 Bastei, a lofty precipice on the Elbe. The way led us directly 
 through the Uttewalder Grund, the most remarkable of all these 
 chasms. We went down by steps into its depths, which in the 
 early morning were very cold. Water dripped from the rocks, 
 which but a few feet apart, rose far above us, and a little rill 
 made its way along the bottom, into which the sun has never 
 shone. Heavy masses of rock, which had tumbled down from the 
 sides lay in the way, and tall pine trees sprung from every cleft. 
 In one place the defile is only four feet wide, and a large mass of 
 rock, fallen from above, has lodged near the bottom, making an 
 arch across, under which the traveller Ras to creep. After going 
 under two or three arches of this kind, the defile widened and an 
 arrow cut upon a rock directed us to a side path, which branched 
 ofi:' from this into a mountain. Here the stone masses immedi- 
 ately assumed another form. They projected out like shelves 
 sometimes as much as twenty feet from the straight side, and 
 hung over the way, looking as if they might break ofi" every mo- 
 ment. I felt glad when we had passed under them. Then as 
 we ascended higher, we saw pillars of rock separated entirely 
 from the side and rising a hundred feet in height, with trees 
 
136 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 growing on their summits. They stood there gray and time- 
 worn, like the ruins of a Titan temple. 
 
 The path finally led us out into the forest and through the 
 clustering pine trees, to the summit of the Bastei. An inn has 
 been erected in the woods and an iron balustrade placed around 
 the rock. Protected by this, we advanced to the end of the pre- 
 cipice and looked down to the swift Elbe, more than seven hun- 
 dred feet below ! Opposite through the blue mists of morning, 
 rose Konigstein, crowned with an impregnable fortress, and the 
 crags of Lilienstein, with a fine forest around their base, frowned 
 from the left bank. On both sides were horrible precipices of 
 gray rock, with rugged trees hanging from the crevices. A hill 
 rising up from one side of the Bastei, terminates suddenly a short 
 distance from it, in an abrupt precipice. In the intervening space 
 stand three or four of those rock-columns, several hundred feet 
 high, with their tops nearly on a level with the Bastei. A wooden 
 bridge has been made across from one to the other, over which 
 the traveller passes, looking on the trees and rocks far below him, 
 to the mountain, where a steep zigzag path takes him to the Elbe 
 below. 
 
 We crossed the Elbe for the fourth time at the foot of the Bastei, 
 and walked along its right bank towards Konigstein. The injury 
 caused by the inundation was everywhere apparent. The reced- 
 ing flood had left a deposite of sand, in many places several feet 
 deep on the rich meadows, so that the labor of years will be re- 
 quisite to remove it and restore the land to an arable condition. 
 Even the farm-houses on the hillside, some distance from the river, 
 had been reached, and the long grass hung in the highest branches 
 of the fruit trees. The people were at work trying to repair 
 their injuries, but it will fall heavily upon the poorer classes. 
 
 The mountain of Konigstein is twelve hundred feet high. A 
 precipice, varying from one to three hundred feet in height, runs 
 entirely around the summit, which is flat, and a mile and a half 
 in circumference. This has been turned into a fortress, whose 
 natural advantages make it entirely impregnable. During the 
 Thirty Years' War and the late war with Napoleon, it was the 
 only place in Saxony unoccupied by the enemy. Hence is it 
 used as a depository for the archives and royal treasures, in times 
 
THE FORTRESS OF KONIGSTEIN. 137 
 
 of danger. By giving up our passports at the door, we received 
 permission to enter ; the officer called a guide to take us around 
 the battlements. There is quite a little village on the summit, 
 with gardens, fields, and a wood of considerable size. The only 
 entrance is by a road cut through the rock, which is strongly 
 guarded. A well seven hundred feet deep supplies the for- 
 tress with water, and there are storehouses sufficient to hold sup- 
 plies for many years. The view from the ramparts is glorious — 
 it takes in the whole of the Saxon Highlands, as far as the lofty 
 Schneeberg in Bohemia. On the other side the eye follows tlie 
 windings of the Elbe, as far as the spires of Di'esden. Lilien- 
 stein, a mountain of exactly similar formation, but somewhat 
 higher, stands directly opposite. On walking around, the guide 
 pointed out a little square tower standing on the brink of a pre- 
 cipice, with a ledge, about two feet wide, running around it, just 
 below the windows. He said during the reign of Augustus the 
 Strong, a baron attached to his court, rose in his sleep after a night 
 of revelry, and stepping cut the window, stretched himself at full 
 length along the ledge. A guard fortunately observed his situa- 
 tion and informed Augustas of it, who had him bound and secured 
 with cords, and then awakened by music. It was a good lesson, 
 and one which no doubt sobered him for the future. 
 
 Passing through the little city of Konigstein, we walked on to 
 Schandau, the capital of the Saxon Switzerland, situated on the 
 left bank. It had sustained great damage from the flood, the 
 whole place having been literally under water. Here we turned 
 up a narrow valley which led to the Kuhstall, some eight miles 
 distant. The sides, as usual, were of steep gray rock, but wide 
 enough apart to give room to some lovely meadows, with here 
 and there a rustic cottage. The mountain maidens, in their 
 bright red dresses, with a fanciful scarf bound around the head, 
 made a romantic addition to the scene. There were some quiet 
 secluded nooks, where the light of day stole in dimly through the 
 thick foliage above and the wild stream rushed less boisterously 
 over the rocks. We sat down to rest in one of these cool retreats, 
 and made the glen ring with a cheer for America. The echoes 
 repeated the name as if they had heard it for the first time, and I 
 
138 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 gave them a strict injunction to give it back to the next country- 
 man who should pass by. 
 
 As we advanced further into the hills the way became darker 
 and wilder. We heard the sound of falling water in a little dell 
 on one side, and going nearer, saw a picturesque fall of about 
 fifteen feet. Great masses of black rock were piled together, 
 over which the mountain-stream fell in a snowy sheet. The pines 
 above and around grew so thick and close, that not a sunbeam 
 could enter, and a kind of mysterious twilight pervaded the spot. 
 In Greece it would have been chosen for an oracle. I have seen, 
 somewhere, a picture of the Spirit of Poetry, sitting beside just 
 such a cataract, and truly the nymph could choose no more ap- 
 propriate dwelling. But alas for sentiment ! while we were ad 
 miring its picturesque beauty, we did not notice a man who came 
 from a hut near by and went up behind the rocks. All at once 
 there was a roar of water, and a real torrent came pouring down. 
 I looked up, and lo ! there he stood, with a gate in his hand 
 which had held the water imprisoned, looking down at us to ob- 
 serve the effect. I motioned him to shut it up again, and he ran 
 down to us, lest he should lose his fee for the " sight !" 
 
 Our road now left the valley and ascended through a forest to 
 the Kuhstall, which we came upon at once. It is a remarkable 
 natural arch, through a rocky wall or rampart, one hundred and 
 fifty feet thick. Going through, we came at the other end to the 
 edge of a very deep precipice, while the rock towered precipi- 
 tously far above. Below lay a deep circular valley, two miles in 
 diameter, and surrounded on every side by ranges of crags, such 
 as We saw on the Bastei. It was entirely covered with a pine 
 forest, and there only appeared to be two or three narrow defiles 
 which gave it a communication with the world. The top of the 
 Kuhstall can be reached by a path which runs up through a split 
 in the rock, directly to the summit. It is just wide enough for 
 one person to squeeze himself through ; pieces of wood have 
 been fastened in as steps, and the rocks in many places close 
 completely above. The place derives its name from having been 
 used by the mountaineers as a hiding-place for their cattle in time 
 of war. 
 
 Next morning we descended by another crevice in the rock to 
 
THE HIGHLANDS OF SAXONY. 139 
 
 the lonely valley, which we crossed, and climbed the Little Win- 
 terberg on the opposite side. There is a wide and rugged view 
 from a little tower on a precipitous rock near the summit, erected 
 to commemorate the escape of Prince Augustus of Saxony, who, 
 being pursued by a mad stag, rescued himself on the very brink, 
 by a lucky blow. Among the many wild valleys that lay be- 
 tween the hills, we saw scarcely one without the peculiar rocky 
 formation which gives to Saxon scenery its most interesting 
 character. They resemble the remains of some mighty work of 
 art, rather than one of the thousand varied forms in which Nature 
 deli";hls to clothe herself. 
 
 The Great Winterberg, which is reached by another hour's 
 walk along an elevated ridge, is the highest of the mountains, cel- 
 ebrated for the grand view from its summit. We found the hand- 
 some Swiss hotel recently built there, full of tourists who had 
 come to enjoy the scene, but the morning clouds hid every thing. 
 We ascended the tower, and looking between them as they rolled 
 by, caught glimpses of the broad landscape below. The Giant's 
 Mountains in Silesia were hidden by the mist, but sometimes 
 when the wind freshened, we could see beyond the Elbe into Bo- 
 hemian Switzerland, where the long Schneeberg rose conspicu- 
 ous above the smaller mountains. Leavins: the other travellers 
 to wait at their leisure for clearer weather, we set off for the 
 Prebischthor, in company with two or three students from the 
 Polytechnic School in Dresden. An hour's walk overhigh hills, 
 whose forest clothing had been swept off by fire a few years be- 
 fore, brought us to it. 
 
 The Prebischthor is a natural arch, ninetv feet high, in a wall 
 of rock which projects at right angles from the precipitous side 
 of the mountain. A narrow path leads over the top of the arch 
 to the end of the rock, where, protected by a railing, the traveller 
 seems to hang in the air. The valley is far below him — moun- 
 tains rise up on either side — and only the narrow bridge connects 
 him with the earth. We descended by a wooden staircase to the 
 bottom of the arch, near which a rustic inn is built against the 
 rock, and thence into the valley below, which we followed 
 through rude and lonely scenery, to Hirnischkretschen (!) on the 
 Elbe. 
 
140 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Crossing the river again for the sixth and last time, we fol- 
 lowed the right bank to Neidergrund, the first Austrian village. 
 Here our passports were vised for Prague, and we were allowed 
 to proceed without any examination of baggage. I noticed a 
 manifest change in our fellow travelers the moment we crossed 
 the border. They appeared anxious and careful ; if we hap- 
 pened to speak of the state of the country, they always looked 
 around to see if anybody was near, and if we even passed a 
 workman on the road, quickly changed to some other subject. 
 They spoke much of the jealous strictness of the government, 
 and from what I heard from Austrians themselves, there may 
 have been ground for their cautiousness. 
 
 We walked seven or eio-ht miles along; the bank of the Elbe, 
 to Tetschen, there left our companions and took the road to Tep- 
 litz. The scenery was very picturesque ; it must be delightful 
 to float down the swift current in a boat, as we saw several merry 
 companies do. The river is just small enough and the banks 
 near enough together, to render such a mode of travelling de- 
 lightful, and the strength of the current would carry one to 
 Dresden in a day. 
 
 I was pleasantly disappointed on entering Bohemia. Instead 
 of a dull, uninteresting country, as I expected, it is a land full 
 of the most lovely scenery. There is every thing which can 
 gratify the eye — high blue mountains, valleys of the sweetest 
 pastoral look and romantic old ruins. The very name of Bohe- 
 mia is associated with wild and wonderful legends, of the rude 
 barbaric ages. Even the chivalric tales of the feudal times of 
 Germany grow tame beside these earlier and darker histories. 
 The fallen fortresses of the Rhine, or the robber-castles of the 
 Odenwald had not for me so exciting an interest as the shape- 
 less ruins cumbering these lonely mountains. The civilized 
 Saxon race was left behind ; I saw around me the features and 
 heard the language of one of those rude Sclavonic tribes, whose 
 original home was on the vast steppes of Central Asia. I have 
 rarely enjoyed traveling more than our first two days' journey 
 towards Prague. The range of the Erzgebirfre ran alono; on our 
 right ; the snow still lay in patches upon it, but the valleys be- 
 tween, with their little clusters of white cottages, were green and 
 
KULM AND TEPLITZ. 14L 
 
 beautiful. About six miles before reaching Teplitz, we passed 
 Kulm, the great battle-field, which in a measure decided the fate 
 of Napoleon. He sent Vandamme with 40,000 men to attack 
 the allies before they could unite tlieir forces, and thus effect 
 their complete destruction. Only the almost despairing bravery 
 of the Russian guards under Ostermann, who held him in check 
 till the allied troops united, prevented Napoleon's design. At 
 the junction of the roads, where the fighting was hottest, the 
 Austrians have erected a monument to one of their generals. 
 Not far from it is that of Prussia, simple and tasteful. A woody 
 hill near, with the little village of Kulm at its foot, was the sta- 
 tion occupied by Vandamme at the commencement of the battle. 
 There is now a beautiful chapel on its summit, which can be 
 seen far and wide. A little distance further, the Emperor of 
 Russia has erected a third monument to the memory of the Rus- 
 sians who fell. Four lions rest on the base of the pedestal, and 
 on the top of the shaft, forty-five feet high. Victory is represented 
 as engraving the date, "Aug. 30, 1813," on a shield. The 
 dark, pine-covered mountains on the right, overlook the whole 
 field and the valley of Teplitz ; Napoleon rode along their crests 
 several days after the battle, to witness the scene of his defeat. 
 
 Teplitz lies in a lovely valley, several miles wide, bounded by 
 the Bohemian mountains on one side, and the Erzo;ebirge on the 
 other. One straggling peak near is crowned with a picturesque 
 ruin, at whose foot the spacious bath-buildings lie half hidden in 
 foliage. As we went down the principal street, I noticed nearly 
 every house was a hotel ; we learned afterwards that in summer 
 the usual average of visitors is five thousancf; The waters re- 
 semble those of the celebrated Carlsbad ; they are warm ana 
 particularly efficacious in rheumatism and diseases of like char- 
 acter. After leaving Teplitz, the road turned to the east, to- 
 wards a lofty mountain, which we had seen the morning before. 
 The peasants as they passed by, saluted us with " Christ greet 
 you !" 
 
 We stopped for the night at the foot of the peak called the 
 Milleschauer, and must have ascended nearly 2,000 feet, for we 
 had a wide view the next morning, although the mists and clouds 
 hid the half of it. The weather being so unfavorable, we con- 
 
142 VIEWS A-FOOT, 
 
 eluded not to ascend, and taking leave of the Jena student who 
 came there for that purpose, descended through green fields 
 and orchards snowy with blossoms, to Lobositz, on the Elbe. 
 Here we reached the plains again, where every thing wore the 
 luxuriance of summer; it was a pleasant change from the dark 
 and rough scenery we left. The road passed through Theresien- 
 stadt, the fortress of Northern Bohemia. The little city is sur- 
 rounded by a double wall and moat, which can be filled with 
 water, rendering it almost impossible to be taken. In the morn- 
 ing we were ferried over the Moldau, and after journeying nearly 
 all day across barren, elevated plains, saw late in the afternoon 
 the sixty-seven spires of Prague below us ! The dark clouds 
 which hung over the hills, gave us little time to look upon the 
 singular scene ; and we were soon comfortably settled in the 
 half-barbaric, half-Asiatic city, with a pleasant prospect of seeing 
 its wonders on the morrow. 
 
PRAGUE. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SCENES IN PRAGUE. 
 
 Prague. — I fe'^] as if out of the world, in this strange, fantas- 
 tic, yet beautiful old city. We have been rambling all morn- 
 ing through its winding streets, stopping sometimes at a church 
 to see the dusty tombs and shrines, or to hear the fine music 
 which accompanies the morning mass. I have seen no city yet 
 that so forcibly reminds one of the past, and makes him forget 
 everything but the associations connected with the scenes around 
 him. The language adds to the illusion. Three-fourths of the 
 people in the streets speak Bohemian and many of the signs are 
 written in the same tongue, which is not at all like German. 
 The palace of the Bohemian kings still looks down on the city 
 from the western heights, and their tombs stand in the Cathedral 
 of the holy Johannes. When one has climbed up the stone steps 
 leading to the fortress, there is a glorious prospect before him. 
 Prague, with its spires and towers, lies in the valley below, 
 through which curves the Moldau with its green islands, disap- 
 pearing among the hills which enclose the city on every side. 
 The fantastic Byzantine architecture of many of the churches 
 and towers, gives the city a peculiar oriental appearance ; it 
 seems to have been transported from the hills of Syria. Its 
 streets are full of palaces, fallen and dwelt in now by the poorer 
 classes. Its famous University, which once boasted forty thou- 
 sand students, has long since ceased to exist. In a word, it is, 
 like Venice, a fallen city ; though as in Venice, the improving 
 spirit of the age is beginning to give it a little life, and to send a 
 quicker stream through its narrow and winding arteries. The 
 railroad, which, joining that to Brunn, shall bring it in connection 
 with Vienna, will be finished this year ; in anticipation of the 
 increased business which will arise from this, speculators are 
 
144 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 building enormous hotels in the suburbs and tearing down the 
 old buildings to give place to more splendid edifices. These 
 operations, and the chain bridge which spans the Moldau towards 
 the southern end of the city, are the only things which look mod- 
 ern — every thing else is old, strange and solemn. 
 
 Having found out first a few of the locations, we hunted our 
 way -with difficulty through its labyrinths, seeking out every 
 place of note or interest. Reaching the bridge at last, we con- 
 eluded to cross over and ascend to the Hradschin — the palace ot 
 the Bohemian kings. The bridge was commenced in 1357, and 
 was one hundred and fifty years in building. That was the way 
 the old Germans did their work, and they made a structure which 
 will last a thousand years longer. Every pier is surmounted 
 with groups of saints and martyrs, all so worn and time-beaten, 
 that there is little left of their beau'y, if they ever had any. 
 The most important of them, at least to Bohemians, is that of the 
 holy " Johannes of Nepomuck," now considered as the patron- 
 saint of the land. He was a priest many centuries ago, whom 
 one of the kings threw from the bridge into the Moldau, because 
 he refused to reveal to him what the queen confessed. The 
 legend says the body swam for some lime on the river, with five 
 stars around its head. The 16th of May, the day before we ar- 
 rived, was that set apart for his particular honor ; the statue on 
 the bridge was covered with an arch of green boughs and flow- 
 ers, and the shrine lighted with burnmg tapers. A railing was 
 erected around it, near which numbers of the believers weie 
 kneeling, and a priest stood in the inside. The bridge was cov- 
 ered with passers-by, who all took their hats off' till they had 
 passed. Had it been a place of public worship, the act would 
 have been natural and appropriate, but to uncover before a statue 
 seemed to us too much like idolatry, and we ventured over with- 
 out doing it. A few years ago it might have been dangerous, 
 but now we only met with scowling looks. There are many 
 such shrines and statues through the city, and I noticed that the 
 people always took off* their hats and crossed themselves in pass- 
 iiig. On the hill above the western end of the city, stands a 
 chapel on the spot where the Bavarians put an end to Protestant- 
 ism in Bohemia hy the sivord, and the deluded peasantry of the 
 
A DAY-DREAM IN PRAGUE. 145 
 
 land make pilgrimages to this spot, as if it were rendered holy by 
 an act over which fleligion weeps ! 
 
 Ascending the broad flight of steps to the Hradschin, I paused 
 a moment to look at the scene below. A slight blue haze hung 
 over the clustering towers, and the city looked dim through it, 
 like a city seen in a dream. It was well that it should so appear, 
 for not less dim and misty are the memories that haunt its walls. 
 There was no need of a magician's wand to bid that light cloud 
 shadow forth the forms of other times. They came uncalled for, 
 even by fancy. Far, far back in the past, I saw the warrior- 
 princess who founded the kingly city — the renowned Libussa, 
 whose prowess and talent inspired the women of Bohemia to rise 
 at her death and storm the land that their sex might rule where 
 it obeyed before. On the mountain opposite once stood the palace 
 of the bloody Wlaska, who reigned with her Amazon band for 
 seven years over half Bohemia. Those streets below had echoed 
 with the fiery words of Huss, and the castle of his follower — the 
 blind Ziska, who met and defeated the armies of the German Em- 
 pire — moulders on the mountain above. Many a year of war and 
 tempest has passed over the scene. The hills around have borne 
 the armies of Wallenstein and Frederic the Great ; the war-cry of 
 Bavaria, Sweden and Poland has echoed in the valley, and the 
 red glare of the midnight cannon or the flames of burning pal- 
 aces have often gleamed along the " blood-dyed waters" of the 
 Moldau ! 
 
 But this was a day-dream. The throng of people coming up 
 the steps waked me out of it. We turned and followed them 
 through several spacious courts, till we arrived at the Cathedral, 
 which is magnificent in the extreme. The dark Gothic pillars, 
 whose arches unite high above, are surrounded with gilded mon- 
 uments and shrines, and the side chapels are rich in elaborate 
 decorations. A priest was speaking from a pulpit in the centre, 
 in the Bohemian language, which not being the most intelligible, 
 I went to the other end to see the shrine of the holy Johannes of 
 Nepomuck. It stands at the end of one of the side aisles and is 
 composed of a mass of gorgeous silver ornaments. At a little 
 distance, on each side, hang four massive lamps of silver, con- 
 
146 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 stantly burning. The pyramid of statues, of the same precious 
 metal, has at each corner a richly carved urn, three feet high, 
 with a crimson lamp burning at the top. Above, four silver 
 angels, the size of life, are suspendec^. in the air, holding up the 
 corners of a splendid drapery of crimson and gold. If these 
 figures were melted down and distributed among the poor and 
 miserable people who inhabit Bohemia, they would then be angels 
 indeed, bringing happiness and blessing to many a ruined home- 
 altar. In the same chapel is the splendid burial-place of the Bo- 
 hemian kings, of gilded marble and alabaster. Numberles? 
 tombs, covered with elaborate ornamental work, fill the edifice. 
 It gives one a singular feeling to stand at one end and look down 
 the lofty hall, dim with incense smoke and dark with the weight 
 of many centuries. 
 
 On the way down again, we stepped into the St. Nicholas 
 Church, which was built by the Jesuits. The interior has a rich 
 effect, being all of brown and gold. The massive pillars are 
 made to resemble reddish-brown marble, with gilded capitals, and 
 the statues at the base are profusely ornamented in the same style. 
 The music chained me there a long time. There was a grand 
 organ, assisted by a full orchestra and large choir of singers. 
 It was placed above, and at every sound of the priest's bell, the 
 flourish of trumpets and deep roll of the drums filled the dome 
 with a burst of quivering sound, while the giant pipes of the or- 
 gan breathed out their full harmony and the very air shook under 
 the peal. It was like a triumphal strain ; the soul became filled 
 with thoughts of power and glory — every sense was changed in- 
 to one dim, indistinct emotion of rapture, which held the spirit as 
 if spell-bound. I could almost forgive the Jesuits the supersti- 
 tion and bigotry they have planted in the minds of men, for the 
 indescribable enjoyment that music gave. When it ceased, we 
 went out to the world again, and the recollection of it seems now 
 like a dream — but a dream whose influence will last longer than 
 many a more palpable reality. 
 
 Not far from this place is the palace of Wallenstein, in the 
 same condition as when he inhabited it, and still in the possession 
 of his descendants. It is a plaiii^ large building, having beautiful 
 
THE JEWS' aUARTER. 147 
 
 gardens attached to it, which are open to the public. We went 
 through the courtyard, threaded a passage with a roof of rough 
 stalactitic rock, and entered the garden where a revolving foun- 
 tain was casting up its glittering arches. Among the flowers at 
 the other end of the garden there is a remarkable fountain. It is 
 but a single jet of water which rises from the middle of a broad 
 basin of woven wire, but by some means it sustains a hollow gild- 
 ed ball, sometimes for many minutes at a time. When the ball 
 drops, the sloping sides of the basin convey it directly to the foun- 
 tain again, and it is carried up to dance a while longer on the top 
 of the jet. I watched it once, thus supported on the water, for 
 full fifteen minutes. 
 
 There is another part of Prague which is not less interesting, 
 though much less poetical — the Jews' City. In our rambles we 
 got into it before we were aware, but hurried immediately out of 
 it again, perfectly satisfied with one visit. We came first into a 
 dark, narrow street, whose sides were lined with booths of old 
 clothes and second-hand articles. A sharp featured old woman 
 thrust a coat before my face, exclaiming, " Herr, buy a fine 
 coat !" Instantly a man assailed me on the other side, "-Here 
 are vests ! pantaloons ! shirts !" I broke loose from them and 
 ran on, but it only became worse. One seized me by the arm, 
 crying, " Lieber Herr, buy some stockings !'"' and another grasped 
 my coat : " Hats, Herr ! hats ! buy something, or sell me some- 
 thing f'^ I rushed desperately on, shouting "no! no!" with all 
 my might, and finally got safe through. My friend having escaped 
 their clutches also, we hunted the way to the old Jewish ceme- 
 tery. This stands in the middle of the city, and has not been 
 • used for a hundred years. We could find no entrance, but by 
 climbing upon the ruins of an old house near, I could look over 
 the wall. A cold shudder crept over me, to think that -warm, 
 joyous Life, as I then felt it, should grow chill and pass back to 
 clay in such a foul charnel-house. Large mounds of earth, cov- 
 ered with black, decaying grave-stones, which were almost hid- 
 den under the weeds and rank grass, filled the inclosure. A few 
 dark, crooked alder-trees grew among the crumbling tombs, and 
 gave the scene an air of gloom and desolation, almost fearful. 
 
148 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 The dust of many a generation lies under these mouldering 
 stones ; they now scarcely occupy a thought in the minds of the 
 living ; and yet the present race toils and seeks for wealth alone, 
 that it may pass away and leave nothing behind — not even a 
 memory for that which will follow it ! 
 
BOHEMIA. 149 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 JOURNEY THROUGH EASTERN BOHEMIA AND MORAVIA TO THE 
 
 DANUBE. 
 
 Our road the first two days after leaving Prague led across 
 broad, elevated plains, across which a cold wind came direct 
 from the summits of the Riesengebirge, far to our left. Were it 
 not for the pleasant view we had of the rich valley of the Upper 
 Elbe, which afforded a delightful relief to the monotony of the 
 hills around us, the journey would have been exceedingly tire- 
 some. The snow still glistened on the distant mountains; but 
 when the sun shone out, the broad valley below, clad in the lux- 
 uriance of summer, and extending for at least fifty miles with its 
 woods, meadows and white villages, looked like a real Paradise. 
 The long ridges over which we travelled extend for nearly a hun- 
 dred and fifty miles — from the Elbe almost to the Danube. The 
 soil is not fertile, the inhabitants are exceedingly poor, and from 
 our own experience, the climate must be unhealthy. In winter 
 the country is exposed to the full sweep of the northern winds, 
 and in summer the sun shines down on it with unbroken force. 
 There are few streams running through it, and the highest part, 
 which divides the waters of the Baltic from those of the Black 
 Sea, is filled for a long distance with marshes and standing pools, 
 whose exhalations must inevitably subject the inhabitants to dis- 
 ease. This was perceptible in their sallow, sickly countenances; 
 many of the women are afflicted with the goitre, or swelling of 
 the throat ; I noticed that towards evening they always carefully 
 muffled up their faces. According to their own statements, the 
 people suffer much from the cold in winter, as the few forests the 
 country affords are in possession of the noblemen to whom the 
 land belongs, and they are not willing to let them be cut down. 
 The dominions of these petty despots are marked along the road 
 
160 VIEWS A-FOOT- 
 
 with as much precision as the boundaries of an empire ; we saw 
 sometimes their stately castles at a distance, forming quite a con 
 trast to the poor scattering villages of the peasants. 
 
 At KoUin, the road, which had been running eastward in the 
 direction of Olmutz, turned to the south, and we took leave of the 
 Elbe, after tracing back his course from Magdeburg nearly to 
 his home in the mountains of Silesia. The country was barren 
 and monotonous, but a bright sunshine made it look somewhat 
 cheerful. We passed, every few paces, some shrine or statue 
 by the roadside. This had struck me, immediately on crossing 
 the border, in the Saxon Switzerland — it seemed as if the bound- 
 ary of Saxony was that of Protestantism. But here in the heart of 
 Bohemia, the extent to which this image worship is carried, ex- 
 ceeds anything I had imagined. There is something pleasing as 
 well as poetical in the idea of a shrine by the wayside, where 
 the weary traveller can rest, and raise his heart in thankfulness 
 to the Power that protects him ; it was no doubt a pious spirit 
 that placed them there ; but the people appear to pay the rever- 
 ence to the picture which they should give to its spiritual image, 
 and the pictures themselves are so shocking and ghastly, they 
 seem better calculated to excite horror than reverence. It was 
 really repulsive to look on images of the Saviour covered with 
 blood, and generally with swords sticking in different parts of 
 the body. The Almighty is represented as an old man, wear- 
 ing a Bishop's mitre, and the image of the Virgin is always 
 drest in a gay silk robe, with beads and other ornaments. From 
 he miserable painting, the faces often had an expression that 
 would have been exceedingly ludicrous, if the shock given to our 
 feelings of reverence were not predominant. The poor, degraded 
 peasants always uncovered or crossed themselves when passing 
 by these shrines, but it appeared to be rather the effect of habit 
 than any good impulse, for the Bohemians are noted all over Ger- 
 many for their dishonesty ; we learned by experience they de- 
 serve it. It is not to be wondered at either ; for a people so poor 
 and miserable and oppressed will soon learn to take advantage of 
 all who appear better off than themselves. They had one custom 
 which was touching; and beautiful. At the sound of the church 
 bell, as it rung the morning, noon and evening chimes, every one 
 
BOHEMIAN PEASANTS. 151 
 
 uncovered, and repeated to himself a prayer. Often, as we rested 
 at noon on a bank by the roadside, that voice spoke out from the 
 house of worship and every one heeded its tone. ' Would that to 
 this innate spirit of reverence were added the light of Knowledge, 
 which a tyrannical government denies them ! 
 
 The third night of our journey we stopped at the little village 
 of Stecken, and the next morning, after three houvs' walk over 
 the ridgy heights, reached the old Moravian citv of Iglau, built 
 on a hill. It happened to be Corpus Christi daj', and the peas- 
 ants of the neigliborhood were hastening there in their gayest 
 dresses. The young women wore a crimson scarf around the 
 head, with long fringed and embroidered ends hanging over the 
 shoulders, or falling in one smooth fold from the back of the head 
 They were attired in black velvet vests, with full white sleeves 
 and skirts of some gay color, which were short enough to show 
 to advantage their red stockings and polished shoe-buckles. Many 
 of them were not deficient in personal beauty — there was a gipsy- 
 like wildness in their eyes, that combined with their rich hair 
 and graceful costume, reminded me of the Italian maidens. The 
 towns too, with their open squares and arched passages, have 
 quite a southern look ; but the damp, gloomy weather was 
 enough to dispel any illusion of this kind. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Iglau, and, in fact, through the whole 
 of Bohemia, we saw some of the strangest teams that could well 
 be imagined. I thought the Frankfort milkwomen with their 
 donkeys and hearse-like carts, were comical objects enough, but 
 thoy bear no comparison with these Bohemian turn-outs. Dogs 
 — for economy's sake, perhaps — generally supply the place of 
 oxen or horses, and it is no uncommon thing to see three large 
 mastiffs abreast, harnessed to a country-cart. A donkey and a 
 cow together, are sometimes met with, and one man, going to the 
 festival at Iglau, had his wife and children in a little wagon, 
 drawn bv a door and a donkev. These two, however, did not work 
 well together ; the dog would bite his lazy companion, and the 
 man's time was constantly employed in whipping him off the 
 donkey, and in whipping the donkey away from the side of the 
 road. Once I saw a wagon drawn by a dog, with a woman 
 pushing behind, while a man, doubtless her lord and master, sat 
 
152 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 comfortably within, smoking his pipe with the greatest compla- 
 cency ! The very climax of all was a woman and a dog har- 
 nessed together, taking a load of country produce to market ! I 
 hope, for the honor of the country, it was not emblematic of wo- 
 man's condition there. But as we saw hundreds of them break- 
 ing stone along the road, and occupied at other laborious and not 
 less menial labor, there is too much reason to fear that it is so. 
 
 As we approached Iglau, we heard cannon firing ; the crowd 
 increased, and following the road, we came to an open square, 
 where a large number were already assembled ; shrines were 
 erected around it, hung with pictures and pme boughs, and a 
 long procession of children was passing down the side as we 
 entered. We went towards the middle, where Neptune and his 
 Tritons poured the water from their urns into two fountains, 
 and stopped to observe the scene. The procession came on, 
 headed bj- a large body of priests, in white robes, with banners 
 and crosses. They stopped before the principal shrine, in front 
 of the Rathhaus, and began a solemn religious ceremony. The 
 whole crowd of not less than ten thousand persons, stood silent 
 and uncovered, and the deep voice of the officiating priest was 
 heard over the whole square. At times the multitude sang re- 
 sponses, and I could mark the sound, swelling and rolling up like 
 a mighty wave, till it broke and slowly sank down again to the 
 deepest stillness. The effect was marred by the rough voice of 
 the officers commanding the soldiery, and the volleys of mus- 
 quetry which were occasionally discharged. It degraded the so- 
 lemnity of the pageant to the level of a military parade. 
 
 In the afternoon we were overtaken by a travelling handwer- 
 ker, on his way to Vienna, who joined company with us. We 
 walked several miles together, talking on various matters, with- 
 out his having the least suspicion we were not Germans. He 
 had been at Trieste, and at length began speaking of the great 
 beauty of the American vessels there. " Yes," said I, " our 
 vessels are admired all over the world." He stared at me with- 
 out comprehending ; — " your vessels ?" " Our country's," I re- 
 plied ; " we are Americans !" I can see still his look of incred- 
 ulous astonishment and hear the amazed tone with which he 
 cried : " You Americans — ii is impossible I" We convinced him 
 
A WANDERING JOURNEYMAN. 153 
 
 nevertheless, to his great joy, for all through Germany there is a 
 curiosity to see our countrymen and a kindly feeling towards 
 them. " I shall write down in my book," said he, " so that I 
 shall never forget it, that I once travelled with two Americans !" 
 We stopped together for the night at the only inn in a large, 
 beggarly village, where we obtained a frugal supper with diffi- 
 culty, for a regiment of Polish lancers was quartered there for 
 the night, and the pretty Kellnerin was so busy in waiting on the 
 officers that she had no eye for wandering journeymen, as she 
 took us to be. She even told us the beds were all occupied and 
 we must sleep on the floor. Just then the landlord came by. "Is 
 it possible, Herr Landlord," asked our new companion, "that 
 there is no bed here for us ? Have the goodness to look again, 
 for we are not in the habit of sleeping on the floor, like dogs !" 
 This speech had its effect, for the Kellnerin was commanded to 
 find us beds. She came back unwillingly after a time and re- 
 ported that two, only, were vacant. As a German bed is only a 
 yard wide, we pushed these two together, but they were still too 
 small for three persons, and I had a severe cold in the morning, 
 from sleeping crouched up against the damp wall. 
 
 The next day we passed the dividing ridge which separates 
 the waters of the Elbe from the Danube, and in the evening ar- 
 rived at Znaim, the capital of Moravia. It is built on a steep hill 
 looking down on the valley of the Thaya, whose waters mingle 
 with the Danube near Pressburo. The old castle on the height 
 near, was formerly the residence of the Moravian monarchs, and 
 traces of the ancient walls and battlements of the city are still 
 to be seen. The handwerker took us to the inn frequented by 
 his craft — the leather-curriers — and we conversed together till 
 bed-time. While telling me of the oppressive laws of Austria, 
 tlie degrading vassalage of the peasants and the horrors of the 
 conscription system, he paused as in deep thought, and looking 
 at me with a suppressed sigh, said : " Is it not true, America is 
 free?" I told him of our country and her institutions, adding 
 that though we were not yet as free as we hoped and wished to 
 be, we enjoyed far more liberty than any country in the world. 
 "Ah!" said he, "it is hard to leave one's fatherland oppressed 
 as it is, but I wish I could go to America !" 
 
 8* 
 
154 VIEWS A-FOOT- 
 
 We left next morning at eight o'clock, after having done full 
 justice to the beds of the " Golden Stag," and taken leave of 
 Florian Francke, the honest and hearty old landlord. Znaim 
 appears to great advantage from the Vienna road ; the wind 
 which blew with fury against our backs, would not permit us 
 to look long at it, but pushed us on towards the Austrian border. 
 In the course of three hours we were obliged to stop at a little 
 village ; it blew a perfect hurricane and the rain began to soak 
 through our garments. Here we stayed three hours among the 
 wagoners who stopped on account of the weather. One misera- 
 ble, drunken wretch, whom one would not wish to look at more 
 than once, distinguished himself by insulting those around him, 
 and devouring like a beast, large quantities of food. When the 
 reckoning was given him, he declared he had already paid, and 
 the waiter denying it, he said, " Stop, I will show you some- 
 thing !" pulled out his passport and pointed to the name — " Baron 
 von Reitzenstein." It availed notiiing ; he had fallen so low 
 that his title inspired no respect, and when we left the inn they 
 were still endeavoring to get their money and threatening him 
 with a summary proceeding if the demand was not complied 
 with. 
 
 Next morning the sky was clear and a glorious day opened be- 
 fore us. The country became more beautiful as we approached 
 the Danube ; the hills were covered with vineyards, just in the 
 tender green of their first leaves^ and the rich valleys lay in Sab- 
 bath stillness in the warm sunshine. Sometimes from an eminence 
 we could see far and wide over the garden-like slopes, where 
 little white villages shone among the blossoming fruit-trees. A 
 chain of blue hills rose in front, which I knew almost instinctively 
 stood by the Danube ; when we climbed to the last height and 
 began to descend to the valley, where the river was still hidden by 
 luxuriant groves, I saw far to the southwest, a range of faint, sil- 
 very summits, rising through the dim ether like an airy vision. 
 There was no mistaking those snowy mountains. My heart 
 bounded with a sudden thrill of rapturous excitement at this first 
 view of the Alps ! They were at a great distance, and their 
 outline was almost blended with the blue drapery of air which 
 clothed them. I gazed till my vision became dim and I could no 
 
THE ALPS AND THE DANUBE. 155 
 
 longer trace their airy lines. They called up images blended 
 with the grandest events in the world's history, I tliought of the 
 glorious spirits who have looked upon them and trodden their rug- 
 ged sides — of the storms in which they veil their countenances, 
 and the avalanches they hurl thundering to the valleys — of the 
 voices of great deeds, which have echoed from their crags over 
 the wide earth — and of the ages which havo broken, like the 
 waves of a mighty sea, upon their everlasting summits ! 
 
 As we descended, the hills and forests shut out this sublime 
 vision, and I looked to the wood-clothed mountains opposite and 
 tried to catch a glimpse of the current that rolled at their feet. 
 We here entered upon a rich plain, about ten miles in diameter, 
 which lay between a backward sweep of the hills and a curve of 
 the Danube. It was covered with the richest grain ; every thing 
 wore the luxuriance of summer, and we seemed to have changed 
 seasons since leaving the dreary hills of Bohemia. Continuing over 
 the plain, we had on our left the fields of Wagram and Essling, the 
 scene of two of Napoleon's blood-bought victories. The outposts 
 of the Carpathians skirted the horizon — that great mountain range 
 which stretches through Flungary to the borders of Russia. 
 
 At length the road came to the river's side, and we crossed on 
 wooden bridges over two or three arms of the Danube, all of 
 which together were little wider than the Schuylkill at Philadel- 
 phia. When we crossed the last bridge, we came to a kind of 
 island covered with groves of the silver ash. Crowds of people 
 filled the cool walks ; booths of refreshment stood by the roadside, 
 and music was everywhere heard. The road finally terminated 
 in a circle, where beautiful alleys radiated into the groves ; from 
 the opposite side a broad street lined with stately buildings ex- 
 tended into the heart of the city, and through this avenue, filled 
 with crowds of carriages and people on their way to those delight- 
 ful walks, we entered Vienna ! 
 
156 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 VIENNA. 
 
 May 31. — I have at last seen the thousand wonders of this 
 great capital — this German Paris — this connecting link between 
 the civilization of Europe and the barbaric magnificence of the 
 East. It looks familiar to be in a city again, whose streets are 
 thronged with people, and resound with the din and bustle of busi- 
 ness. It reminds me of the never-ending crowds of London, or 
 the life and tumult of our scarcely less active New York. Al- 
 though the end may be sordid for which so many are laboring, 
 yet the very sight of so much activity is gratifying. It is pecu- 
 liarly so to an American. After residing in a foreign land for 
 some time, the peculiarities of our nation are more easily noticed ; 
 I find in my countrymen abroad a vein of restless energy — a love 
 for exciting action — which to many of our good German friend? 
 is perfectly incomprehensible. It might have been this which 
 gave at once a favorable impression of Vienna. 
 
 The morning of our arrival we sallied out from our lodgings in 
 the Leopoldstadt, to explore the world before us. Entering the 
 broad Praterstrasse, we passed down to the little arm of the 
 Danube, which separates this part of the new city from the old. 
 A row of magnificent coffee-houses occupy the bank, and numbers 
 of persons were taking their breakfasts in the shady porticoes. 
 The Ferdinand's Bridge, which crosses the stream, was filled with 
 people ; in the motley crowd we saw the dark-eyed Greek, and 
 Turks in their turbans and flowinsr robes. Little brown Hunca- 
 rian boys were going around, selling bunches of lilies, and Italians 
 with baskets of oranges stood by the side- walk. The throng be- 
 came greater as we penetrated into the old city. The streets 
 were filled with carts and carriages, and as there are no side- 
 pavements, it required constant attention to keep out of their way 
 
VIEW OF VIENNA. 157 
 
 )   ; ; ] 
 
 / Splendid shops, fitted up with great taste, occupied the whole of 
 the lower stories, and ^oods of all kinds hung beneath the can- 
 vass awnings in front of them. Almost every store or shop was 
 dedicated to some particular person or place, which was repre- 
 sented on a large panel by the door. The number of these paint- 
 ings added much to the splendor of the scene ; I was gratified to 
 find, among the images of kings and dukes, one dedicated " to 
 the American/^ with an Indian chief in full costume. 
 
 The Alistadt, or old city, which contains about sixty thousand 
 inhabitants, is completely separated from the suburbs, whose popu- 
 lation, taking the whole extent within the outer barrier, numbers 
 nearly half a million. It is situated on a small arm of the Dan- 
 ube, and encompassed by a series of public promenades, gardens 
 and walks, varying from a quarter to half a mile in length, 
 called the Glacis. This formerly belonged to the fortifications 
 of the city, but as the suburbs grew up so rapidly on all sides, it 
 was changed appropriately to a public walk. The city is still 
 surrounded with a massive wall and a deep wide moat ; but since 
 it was taken by Napoleon in 1809, the moat has been changed 
 into a garden, with a beautiful carriage road along the bottom, 
 around the whole citv. It is a beautiful siorht, to stand on the 
 summit of the wall and look over the broad Glacis, with its shady 
 roads branching in every direction, and filled with inexhaustible 
 streams of people. The Vorstaedte, or new cities, stretch in a 
 circle around, beyond this ; all the finest buildings front on the 
 Glacis, among which the splendid Vienna Theatre and the church 
 of San Carlo Borromeo are conspicuous. The mountains of the 
 Vienna Forest bound the view, with here and there a stately cas- 
 tle on their woody summits. I was reminded of London as seen 
 from Regent's Park, and truly this part of Vienna can well compare 
 with it. On penetrating into the suburbs, the resemblance is at an 
 end. Many of the public thoroughfares are still unpaved, and in 
 dry weather one is almost choked by the clouds of fine dust. A 
 furious wind blows from the mountains, sweeping the streets 
 almost constantly and filling the eyes and ears with it, making 
 the city an unhealthy residence for strangers. 
 
 There is no lack of places for pleasure or amusement. Beside 
 the numberless walks of the Glacis, there are the Imperial Gar- 
 
158 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 dens, with their cool shades and flowers and fountains ; the Au- 
 garten, laid out and opened to the public by the Emperor Joseph : 
 and the Prater, the largest and most beautiful of all. It lies on 
 an island formed by the arms of the Danube, and is between two 
 and three miles square. From the circle at the end of the Pra- 
 terstrasse, broad carriage-ways extend through its forests of oak 
 and silver ash, and over its verdant lawns to the principal stream, 
 which bounds it on the north. These roads are lined with stately 
 horse chesnuts, whose branches unite and form a dense canopy, 
 completely shutting out the sun. Every afternoon the beauty 
 and nobility of Vienna whirl through the cool groves in their gay 
 equipages, while the sidewalks are thronged with pedestrians, 
 and the numberless tables and seats with which every house of 
 refreshment is surrounded, are filled with merry guests. Here, 
 on Sundays and holidays, the people repair in thousands. The 
 woods are full of tame deer, which run perfectly free over the 
 whole Prater. I saw several in one of the lawns, lying down in 
 the grass, with a number of children playing around or sitting 
 beside them. It is delightful to walk there in the cool of the 
 evening, when the paths are crowded, and everybody is enjoying 
 the release from the dusty city. It is this free, social life which 
 renders Vienna so attractive to foreigners and draws yearly 
 thousands of visitors from all parts of Europe. 
 
 St. Stephen's Cathedral, in the centre of the old city, is one of 
 the finest specimens of Gothic architecture in Germany. Its un- 
 rivalled tower, which rises to the height of four hundred and 
 twenty-eight feet, is visible from every part of Vienna. It is en- 
 tirely of stone, most elaborately ornamented, and is supposed to be 
 the strongest in Europe. If the tower was finished, it might rival 
 any church in Europe in richness and brilliancy of appearance. 
 The inside is solemn and grand ; but the effect is injured by the 
 number of small chapels and shrines. In one of these rests the 
 remains of Prince Eugene of Savoy, "(7er edie Ritter,'^ known in 
 a ballad to every man, woman and child in Germany. 
 
 The Belvidere Gallery fills thirty-five halls, and contains three 
 thousand pictures ! It is absolutely bewildering to walk through 
 such vast collections ; you can do no more than glance at each 
 painting, and hurry by face after face, and figure after figure, on 
 
THE BELVIDERE GALLERY. 159 
 
 which you would willingly gaze for hours and inhale the atmos- 
 phere of beauty that surrounds them. Then after you leave, the 
 brain is filled with their forms — radiant spirit-faces look upon 
 you, and you see constantly, in fancy, the calm brow of a Ma- 
 donna, the sweet young face of a child, or the blending of divine 
 with mortal beauty in an angel's countenance. I endeavor, if 
 possible, always to make several visits — to study those pictures 
 which cling^r5^ to the memory, and pass over those which make 
 little or no impression. It is better to have a few images fresh 
 and enduring, than a confused and indistinct memory of many. 
 
 From the number of Madonnas in every European gallery, it 
 would almost seem that the old artists painted nothing else. The 
 subject is one which requires the highest genius to do it justice, 
 and it is therefore unpleasant to see so many still, inexpressive 
 faces of the virgin and child, particularly by the Dutch artists, 
 who clothe their figures sometimes in the stiff" costume of their 
 own time. Raphael and Murillo appear to me to be almost the 
 only painters who have expressed what, perhaps, was above the 
 power of other masters — the combined love and reverence of the 
 mother, and the divine expression in the face of the child, pro- 
 phetic of his mission and godlike power. 
 
 There were many glorious old paintings in the second story, 
 which is entirely taken up with pictures ; two or three of the 
 halls were devoted to selected works from modern artists. 
 Two of these I would give every thing I have to possess. One 
 of them is a winter scene, representing the portico of an old 
 Gothic church. At the base of one of the pillars a woman is 
 seated in the snow, half-benumbed, clasping an infant to her 
 breast, while immediately in front stands a boy of perhaps seven 
 or eight years, his little hands folded in prayer, while the chill 
 wind tosses the lono^ curls from his forehead. There is something 
 so pure and holy in the expression of his childish countenance, 
 so much feeling in the lip and sorrowful eye, that it moves one 
 almost to tears to look upon it. I turned back half a dozen times 
 from the other pictures to view it again, and blessed the artist in 
 my heart for the lesson he gave. The other is by a young Italian 
 painter, whose name I have forgotten, but who, if he never painted 
 anything else, is worthy a high place among the artists of his 
 
160 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 country. It represents some scene from the history of Venice. 
 On an open piazza, a noble prisoner, wasted and pale from long 
 confinement, has just had an interview with his children. He 
 reachee his arm toward them as if for the last time, while a sav- 
 age keeper drags him away. A lovely little girl kneels at the 
 feet of the Doge, but there is no compassion in his stern features, 
 and it is easy to see that her father is doomed. 
 
 The Lower Belvidere, separated from the Upper by a large 
 garden, laid out in the style of that at Versailles, contains the 
 celebrated Ambrascr Sammlung, a collection of armor. In the 
 first hall I noticed the complete armor of the Emperor Maximi- 
 lian, for man and horse — the armor of Charles V., and Prince 
 Moritz of Saxony, while the walls were filled with figures of 
 German nobles and knights, in the suits they wore in life. There 
 is also the armor of the great " Baver of Trient," trabant of the 
 Archduke Ferdinand. He was nearly nine feet in stature, and 
 his spear, though not equal to Satan's, in Paradise Lost, would 
 still make a tree of tolerable dimensions. 
 
 In the second hall we saw weapons taken from the Turkish 
 army who besieged Vienna, with the horse-tail standards of the 
 Grand Vizier, Kara Mustapha. The most interesting article was 
 the battle-axe of the unfortunate Montezuma, which was proba- 
 bly given to the Emperor Charles V., by Cortez. It is a plain 
 instrument of dark colored stone, about three feet long. 
 
 We also visited the Burgerliche Zeughaus, a collection of arms 
 and weapons, belonging to the citizens of Vienna. It contains 
 sixteen thousand weapons and suits of armor, including those 
 plundered from the Turks, when John Sobieski conquered them 
 and relieved Vienna from the siege. Besides a great number of 
 sabres, lances and horsetails, there is the blood-red banner of the 
 Grand Vizier, as well as his skull and shroud, which is covered 
 with sentences from the Koran. On his return to Belgrade, after 
 the defeat at Vienna, the Sultan sent him a bow-string, and he 
 was accordingly strangled. The Austrians having taken Bel- 
 grade some time after, they opened his grave and carried off his 
 skull and shroud, as well as the bow-string, as relics. Another 
 large and richly embroidered banner, which hung in a broad 
 sheet from the ceiling, was far mort interesting to me. It had 
 
THE IRON STICK. 161 
 
 once waved from the vessels of the Knights of Malta, and had, 
 perhaps, on the prow of the Grand Master's ship, led that roman- 
 tic band to battle against the Infidel. 
 
 A large number of peasants and common soldiers were admit- 
 ted to view the armory at the same time. The grave custode who 
 showed us the curiosities, explaining every thing in phrases known 
 by heart for years and making the same starts of admiration when- 
 ever he came to any thing peculiarly remarkable, singled us out 
 as the two persons most worthy of attention. Accordingly his 
 remarks were directed entirely to us, and his humble countrymen 
 misht as well have been invisible, for the notice he took of them. 
 On passing out, we gave him a coin worth about fifteen cents, 
 which happened to be so much more than the others gave him, 
 that, bowing graciously, he invited us to write our names in the 
 album for strangers. While we were doing this, a poor hand- 
 werker lingered behind, apparently for the same object, whom he 
 scornfully dismissed, shaking the fifteen cent piece in his hand, 
 and saying : " The album is not for such as you — it is for noble 
 gentlemen !" 
 
 On our way through the city, we often noticed a house on the 
 southern side of St. Stephen's Platz, dedicated to " the Iron Stick." 
 In a niche by the window, stood what appeared to be the limb of 
 a tree, completely filled with nails, which were driven in so thick 
 that no part of the original wood is visible. We learned after- 
 wards the legend concerning it. The Vienna Forest is said to 
 have extended, several hundred years ago, to this place. A lock- 
 smith's apprentice was enabled, by the devil's help, to make the 
 iron bars and padlock which confine the limb in its place ; every 
 locksmith's apprentice who came to Vienna after that, drove a 
 nail into it, till finally there was room for no more. It is a singu- 
 lar legend, and whoever may have placed the limb there origi- 
 nally, there it has remained for two or three hundred years at 
 least. 
 
 We spent two or three hours delightfully one evening in listen- 
 ing to Strauss's band. We went about sunset to the Odeon, a 
 new building in the Leopoldstadt. It has a refreshment hall 
 nearly five hundred feet long, with a handsome fresco ceiling and 
 glass doors opening into a garden walk of the same length. Both 
 
162 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the hall and garden were filled with tables, where the people 
 seated themselves as they came, and conversed sociably over 
 their coffee and wine. The orchestra was placed in a little orna- 
 mental temple in the garden, in front of which I stationed myself, 
 for I was anxious to see the world's waltz-king, whose magic 
 tones can set the heels of half Christendom in motion. After the 
 band had finished tuning their instruments, a middle-sized, hand- 
 some man stepped forward with long strides, with a violin in one 
 hand and bow in the other, and began waving the latter up and 
 down, like a magician summoning his spirits. As if he had 
 waved the sound out of his bow, the tones leaped forth from the 
 instruments, and guided by his eye and hand, fell into a merry 
 measure. The accuracy with which every instrument performed 
 its part, was truly marvellous. He could not have struck the 
 measure or the harmony more certainly from the keys of his own 
 piano, than from that large band. The sounds struggled forth, 
 so perfect and distinct, that one almost expected to see them em- 
 bodied, whirling in wild dance around him. Sometimes the air 
 was so exquisitely light and bounding, the feet could scarcely 
 keep on the earth ; then it sank into a mournful lament, with a 
 sobbing tremulousness, and died away in a long-breathed sigh. 
 Strauss seemed to feel the music in every limb. He would wave 
 his fiddle-bow awhile, then commence playing with desperate 
 energy, moving his whole body to the measure, till the sweat 
 rolled from his brow. A book was lying on the stand before him, 
 but he made no use of it. He often glanced around with a kind 
 of half-triumphant smile at the restless crowd, whose feet could 
 scarcely be restrained from bounding to the magic measure. It 
 was the horn of Oberon realized. The composition of the music 
 displayed great talent, but its charm consisted more in the exqui- 
 site combination of the different instruments, and the perfect, the 
 wonderful exactness with which each performed its part — a piece 
 of art of the most elaborate and refined character. 
 
 The company, which consisted of several hundred, appeared 
 to be full of enjoyment. They sat under the trees in the calm, 
 cool twilight, with the stars twinkling above, and talked and 
 laughed sociably together between the pauses of the music, or 
 strolled ud and down the lighted alleys. We walked up and 
 
THE TOMB OF BEETHOVEN. 163 
 
 down with them, and thought how much we should enjoy such a 
 scene at home, where the faces around us would be those of 
 friends, and the language our mother tongue ! 
 
 We went a long way through the suburbs one bright afternoon, 
 to a little cemetery about a mile from the city, to find the grave 
 of Beethoven. On ringing at the gate a girl admitted us into the 
 grounds, in which are many monuments of noble families who 
 have vaults there. I passed up the narrow walk, reading the in- 
 scriptions, till I came to the tomb of Franz Clement, a young 
 composer, who died two or three years ago. On turning again, 
 my eye fell instantly on the word " Beethoven," in golden let- 
 ters, on a tombstone of gray marble. A simple gilded lyre deco- 
 rated the pedestal, above which was a serpent encircling a but- 
 terfly — the emblem of resurrection to eternal life. Here then, 
 mouldered the remains of that restless spirit, who seemed to have 
 strayed to earth from another clime, from such a height did he 
 draw his glorious conceptions. The perfection he sought for here 
 in vain, he has now attained in a world where the soul is freed 
 from the bars which bind it in this. There were no flowers 
 planted around the tomb by those who revered his genius ; only 
 one wreath, withered and dead, lay among the grass, as if left 
 long ago by some solitary pilgrim, and a few wild buttercups 
 hung with their bright blossoms over the slab. It might have 
 been wrong, but I could not resist the temptation to steal one or 
 two, while the old grave-digger was busy preparing a new tene- 
 ment. I thought that other buds would open in a few days, but 
 those I took would be treasured many a year as sacred relics. 
 A few paces off is the grave of Schubart, the composer, whose 
 beautiful songs are heard all over Germany. 
 
 It would employ one a week to visit all the rich collections of 
 art in Vienna. They are all open to the public on certain days 
 of the week, and we have been kept constantly in motion, run- 
 ning from one part of the city to another, in order to arrive at 
 some gallery at the appointed time. Tickets, which have to be 
 procured often in quite different parts of the city, are necessary 
 for admittance to many ; on applying after much trouble and 
 search, we frequently found we came at the wrong hour, and 
 must leave without effecting our object. We employed no guide, 
 
164 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 but preferred finding every thing ourselves. We made a list 
 every morning, of the collections open during the day, and em- 
 ployed the rest of the time in visiting the churches and public 
 gardens, or rambling through the suburbs. 
 
 We visited the Imperial Library a day or tw^o ago. The hall 
 is 245 feet long, with a magnificent dome in the centre, under 
 which stands the statue of Charles V., of Carrara marble, sur- 
 rounded by twelve other monarchs of the house of Hapsburg. 
 The walls are of variegated marble, richly ornamented with 
 gold, and the ceiling and dome are covered with brilliant fresco 
 paintings. The library numbers 300,000 volumes, and 16,000 
 manuscripts, which are kept in walnut cases, gilded and adorned 
 with medallions. The rich and harmonious efTect of the whole 
 cannot easily be imagined. It is exceedingly appropriate that 
 a hall of such splendor, should be used to hold a library. The 
 pomp of a palace may seem hollow and vain, for it is but the 
 dwelling of a man ; but no building can be too magnificent for 
 the hundreds of great and immortal spirits to dwell in, who have 
 visited earth during thirty centuries. 
 
 Among other curiosities preserved in the collection, we were 
 shown a brass plate, containing one of the records of the Roman 
 Senate, made 180 years before Christ, Greek manuscripts of the 
 fifth and sixth centuries, and a volume of Psalms, printed on 
 parchment, in the year 1457, by Faust and Schaeffer, the invent- 
 ors of printing. There were also Mexican manuscripts, pre- 
 sented by Cortez ; the prayer-book of Hildegard, wife of Char- 
 lemagne, in letters of gold ; the signature of San Carlo Borromeo, 
 and a Greek testament of the thirteenth century, which had been 
 used by Erasmus in making his translation and contains notes 
 in his own hand. The most interesting article was the " Jerusa- 
 lem Delivered" of Tasso, in the poet's own hand, with his era- 
 sions and corrections. 
 
 We also visited the Cabinet of Natural History, which is open 
 twice a week " to all respectably dressed oersons," as the notice 
 at the door says. But Heaven forbid that I should attempt to 
 describe what we saw there. The Mineral Cabinet had a greater 
 interest to me, inasmuch as it called up the recollections of many 
 a school-boy ramble over the hills and into all kinds of quarries, 
 
CARRIAGES AND PICTURES. 165 
 
 far and near. It is said to be the most perfect collection in exist- 
 ence. I was pleased to find many old acquaintances there, from 
 the mines of Pennsylvania ; Massachusetts and New York were 
 also very well represented. I had no idea before, that the min- 
 eral wealth of Austria was so great. Besides the iron and lead 
 mines among the hills of Styria and the quicksilver of Idria, there 
 is no small amount of gold and silver found, and the Carpathian 
 mountains are rich in jasper, opal and lapiz lazuli. The largest 
 opal ever found, was in this collection. It weighs thirty-four 
 ounces and looks like a condensed rainbow. 
 
 In passing the palace, we saw several persons entering the 
 basement story under the Library, and had the curiosity to fol- 
 low them. By so doing, we saw the splendid equipages of the 
 house of Austria. There must have been near a hundred car- 
 riages and sleds, of every shape and style, from the heavy, 
 square vehicle of the last century to the most light and elegan-t 
 conveyance of the present day. One clumsy, but magnificent 
 machine, of crimson and gold, was pointed out as being a hun- 
 dred and fifty years old. The misery we witnessed in starving 
 Bohemia, formed a striking contrast to all this splendor. 
 
 Beside the Imperial Picture Gallery, there are several belong- 
 ing to princes and noblemen in Vienna, which are scarcely less 
 valuable. The most important of these is that of Prince Liech- 
 tenstein, which we visited yesterday. We applied to the porter's 
 lodge for admittance to the gallery, but he refused to open it for 
 two persons ; as we did not wish a long walk for nothing, we con- 
 cluded to wait for other visitors. Presently a gentleman and lady 
 came and inquired if the gallery was open. We told him it 
 would probably be opened now, although the porter required a 
 larger number, and he went to ask. After a short time he re- 
 turned, saying : " He will come immediately ; I thought best to 
 put the number a little higher, and so I told him there were six of 
 us !" Having little artistic knowledge of paintings, I judge of 
 them according to the effect they produce upon me — in propor- 
 tion as they gratify the innate love for the beautiful and the true. 
 I have been therefore disappointed in some painters whose names 
 are widely known, and surprised again to find works of great 
 beauty by others of smaller fame. Judging by such a standard, 
 
166 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 I should say that " Cupid sleeping in the lap of Venus," by Cor- 
 reggio, is the glory of this collection. The beautiful limbs of 
 the boy-god droop in the repose of slumber, as his head rests on 
 his mother's knee, and there is a smile lingering around his half- 
 parted lips, as if he was dreaming new triumphs. The face is 
 not that of the wicked, mischief-loving child, but rather a sweet 
 cherub, bringing a blessing to all he visits. The figure of the 
 goddess is exquisite. Her countenance, unearthly in its loveli- 
 ness, expresses the tenderness of a young mother, as she sits 
 with one finger pressed on her rosy lip, watching his slumber. It 
 is a picture which "stings the brain with beauty." 
 
 The chapel of St. Augustine contains one of the best works of 
 Canova — the monument of the Grand Duchess, Maria Christina, 
 of Sachsen-Teschen. It is a pyramid of gray marble, twenty- 
 eight feet high, with an opening in the side, representing the en- 
 trance to a sepulchre. A female figure personating Virtue bears 
 in an urn to the grave, the ashes of the departed, attended by two 
 children with torches. The figure of Compassion follows, lead- 
 ing an aged beggar to the tomb of his benefactor, and a little 
 child with its hands folded. On the lower step rests a mourning 
 Genius beside a sleeping lion, and a bas-relief on the pyramid 
 above represents an angel carrying Christina's image, surrounded 
 with the emblem of eternity, to Heaven. A spirit of deep sorrow, 
 which is touchingly portrayed in the countenance of the old man, 
 pervades the whole group. While we looked at it, the organ 
 breathed out a slow, mournful strain, which harmonized so fully 
 with the expression of the figures, that we seemed to be listening 
 to the requiem of the one they mourned. The combined effect of 
 music and sculpture, thus united in their deep pathos, was such, 
 that I could have sat down and wept. It was not from sadness at 
 the death of a benevolent though unknown individual, — but the 
 feeling of grief, of perfect, unmingled sorrow, so powerfully 
 represented, came to the heart like an echo of its own emotion, 
 and carried it away with irresistible influence. Travellers have 
 described the same feeling while listening to the Miserere in the 
 Sistine Chapel, at Rome. Canova could not have chiseled the 
 monument without tears. 
 
 One of the most interesting objects in Vienna, is the Imperial 
 
THE IMPERIAL ARMORY. 167 
 
 Armory. We were admitted througli tickets previously procured 
 from the Armory Direction ; as there was already one large com- 
 pany within, we were told to wait in the court till our turn came. 
 Around the wall on the inside, is suspended the enormous chain 
 which the Turks stretched across the Danube at Buda, in the year 
 1529, to obstruct the navigation. It has eight thousand links and 
 is nearly a mile in length. The court is filled with cannon of all 
 shapes and sizes, many of which were conquered from other na- 
 tions. I saw a great many which were cast during the French 
 Revolution, with the words ^^ Liberie ! Egalite /'' upon them, and 
 a number of others bearing the simple letter " N." 
 
 Finally the first company came down and the forty or fifty per- 
 sons who had collected during the interval, were admitted. The 
 Armory runs around a hollow square, and must be at least a 
 quarter of a mile in length. We were all taken into a circular 
 hall, made entirely of weapons, to represent the four quarters of 
 the globe. Here the crusty old guide who admitted us, rapped 
 with his stick on the shield of an old knight who stood near, to 
 keep silence, and then addressed us : " When I speak every one 
 must be silent. No one can write or draw anything. No one 
 shall touch anything, or go to look at anything else, before I have 
 done speaking. Otherwise, they shall be taken immediately into 
 the street again !" Thus in every hall he rapped and scolded, 
 drivinff the women to one side with his stick and the men to the 
 other, till we were nearly through, when the thought of the coming 
 fee made him a little more polite. He had a regular set of 
 descriptions by heart, which he went through with a great flour- 
 ish, pointing particularly to the common military caps of the late 
 Emperors of Prussia and Austria, as " treasures beyond all price 
 to the nation !" Whereupon, the crowd of common people gazed 
 reverently on the shabby beavers, and I verily believe, would 
 have devoutly kissed them, had the glass covering been removed. 
 I happened to be next to a tall, dignified young man, who looked 
 on all this with a displeasure almost amounting to contempt. 
 Seeing I was a foreigner, he spoke, in a low tone, bitterly of the 
 Austrian government. " You are not then an Austrian ?" I asked. 
 " No, thank God T' was the reply : " but I have seen enough of 
 Austrian tyranny. I am a Pole '" 
 
168 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The first wing contains banners used in the French Revolu- 
 tion, and liberty trees with the red cap ; the armor of Rudolph 
 of Hapsburg, Maximilian I., the Emperor Charles V., and the 
 hat, sword and order of Marshal Schwarzenberg. Some of the 
 halls represent a fortification, with walls, ditches and embank- 
 ments, made of muskets and swords. A long room in the second 
 wing contains an encampment, in which twelve or fifteen large 
 tents are formed in >ike manner. Along the sides are grouped 
 old Austrian banners, standards taken from the French, and horse- 
 tails and flags captured from the Turks. " They make a great 
 boast," said the Pole, " of a half dozen French colors, but let 
 them go to the Hospital des Invalides, in Paris, and they will 
 find hundreds of the best banners of Austria !" They also ex- 
 hibited the armor of a dwarf king of Bohemia and Hungary, 
 who died, a gray-headed old man, in his twentieth year ; the sword 
 of Marlborough ; the coat of Gustavus Adolphus, pierced in the 
 breast and back with the bullet which killed him at Liitzen ; the 
 armor of the old Bohemian princess Libussa, and that of the am- 
 azon Wlaska, with a steel visor made to fit the features of her 
 face. The last wing was the most remarkable. Here we saw 
 the helm and breastplate of Attila, king of the Huns, which 
 once glanced at the head of his myriads of wild hordes, before 
 the walls of Rome ; the armor of Count Stahremberg, who com- 
 manded Vienna during the Turkish siege in 1529, and the holy 
 banner of Mahomet, taken at that time from the Grand Vizier, 
 together with the steel harness of John Sobieski of Poland, who 
 rescued Vienna from the Turkish troops under Kara Mustapha ; 
 the hat, sword and breastplate of Godfrey of Bouillon, the Cru- 
 sader-king of Jerusalem, with the banners of the cross the Crusa- 
 ders had borne to Palestine, and the standard they captured from 
 the Turks on the walls of the Holy City ! I felt all my boyish 
 enthusiasm for the romantic age of the Crusaders revive, as I 
 looked on the torn and mouldering banners which once waved on 
 the hills of Judea, or perhaps followed the sword of the Lion 
 Heart through the fight on the field of Ascalon ! What tales 
 could they not tell, those old standards, cut and shivered by spear 
 and lance ! What brave hands have carried them through the 
 storm of battle, what dying eyes have looked upwards tothecroBS 
 
SCENE AT THE PASSPORT OFFICE. 169 
 
 on their folds, as the last prayer was breathed for the rescue of 
 the Holy Sepulchre ! 
 
 I nmst now close the catalogue. This morning we shall look 
 upon Vienna for the last time. Our knapsacks are repacked, and 
 the passports (precious documents !) vised for Munich. The get- 
 tinsf of this vise, however, caused a comical scene at the Police 
 Office, yesterday. We entered the Inspector's Hall and took our 
 stand quietly among the crowd of persons who were gathered 
 around a railing which separated them from the main office. One 
 of the clerks came up, scowling at us, and asked in a rough tone, 
 " What do you want here ?" We handed him our tickets of 
 sojourn (for when a traveler spends more than twenty-four hours 
 in a German city, he must take out a permission and pay for it) 
 with the request that he would give us our passports. He glanced 
 over the tickets, came back and with constrained politeness asked 
 us to step within the railing. Here we were introduced to the 
 
 Chief Inspector. " Desire Herr to come here," said he to 
 
 a servant; then turning to us, " I am happy to see the gentlemen 
 in Vienna." An officer immediately came up, who addressed us 
 in fluent English. " You may speak in your native tongue," 
 said the Inspector : — " excuse our neglect ; from the facility with 
 which you speak German, we supposed you were natives of Aus- 
 tria !" Our passports were signed at once and given us with a 
 gracious bow, accompanied by the hope that we would visit Vi- 
 enna again before long. All this, of course, was perfectly unin- 
 telligible to the wondering crowd outside the railing. Seeing 
 however, the honors we were receiving, they crowded back and 
 respectfully made room for us to pass out. I kept a grave face till 
 we reached the bottom of the stairs, when I gave way to restrained 
 laughter in a manner that shocked the dignity of the guard, who 
 looked savagely at me over his forest of moustache. I would 
 nevertheless have felt grateful for the attention we received as 
 Americans, were it not for our uncourteous reception as suspect?!'^ 
 Austrians. 
 
 We have just been exercising the risible muscles again, though 
 from a very different cause, and one which, according to common 
 custom, ought to draw forth symptoms of a lachrymose nature. 
 
 This morning B suggested an examination of our funds, for 
 
 9 
 
170 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 we had neglected keeping a strict account, and what with being 
 cheated in Bohemia and tempted by the amusements of Vienna, 
 there was an apparent dwindling away. So we emptied our pock- 
 ets and purses, counted up the contents, and found we had just 
 ten florins, or four dollars apiece. The thought of our situation, 
 away in the heart of Austria, five hundred miles from our Frank- 
 fort home, seems irresistibly laughable. By allowing twenty 
 days for the journey, we shall have half a florin a day, to travel 
 on. This is a homceopathic allowance, indeed, but we have con- 
 cluded to try it, So now adieu, Vienna ! In two hours we shall 
 be among the lulls agai» 
 
THE DANUBE. 17J 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 UP THE DANUBE. 
 
 We passed ou. of Vienna in the face of one of the strongest 
 winds it was ever my lot to encounter. It swept across the plain 
 with such force that it was almost impossible to advance till wo 
 got under the lee of a range of hills. About two miles from the 
 barrier we passed Schoenbrunn, the Austrian Versailles. It was 
 built by the Empress Maria Theresa, and was the residence of 
 Napoleon in 1809, when Vienna was in the hands of the French. 
 Later, in 1832, the Duke of Reichstadt died in the same room 
 which his father once occupied. Behind the palace is a magnifi- 
 cent garden, at the foot of a hill covered with rich forests and 
 crowned with an open pillared hall, 300 feet long, called the 
 Gloriette. The colossal eagle which surmounts it, can be seen 
 a great distance. 
 
 The lovely valley in which Schoenbrunn lies, follows the 
 course of the little river Vienna into the heart of that mountain 
 region lying between the Styrian Alps and the Danube, and 
 called the Vienna Forest. Into this our road led, between hills 
 covered with wood, with here and there a lovely green meadow, 
 where herds of cattle were grazing. The third day we came to 
 the Danube again at Melk, a little city built under the edge of a 
 steep hill, on whose summit stands the palace-like abbey of the 
 Benedictine Monks. The old friars must have had a merry life 
 of it, for the wine-cellar of the abbey furnished the French army 
 50,000 measures for several days in succession. The shores of 
 the Danube here are extremely beautiful. The valley where it 
 spreads out, is filled with groves, but where the hills approach 
 the stream, its banks are rocky and precipitous, like the Rhine. 
 Although not so picturesque as the latter river, the scenery of the 
 Danube is on a grander scale. On the south side the mountains 
 
112 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 bend down to it with a majestic sweep, and there must be 
 delightful glances into the valleys that lie between, in passing 
 down the current. 
 
 But we soon left the river, and journeyed on through the en- 
 chanting inland vales. To give an idea of the glorious enjoy- 
 ment of traveling through such scenes, let me copy a leaf out of 
 my journal, written as we rested at noon on the top of a lofty 
 hill : — " Here, while the delightful mountain breeze that comes 
 fresh from the Alps cools my forehead, and the pines around are 
 sighing their eternal anthem, I seize a few moments to tell what 
 a paradise is around me. 1 have felt an elevation of mind and 
 spirit, a perfect rapture from morning till night, since we left 
 Vienna. It is the brightest and balmiest June weather; an ever 
 fresh breeze sings through the trees and waves the ripening grain 
 on the verdant meadows and hill-slopes. The air is filled with 
 bird-music. The larks sing above us out of sight, the bull- 
 finch wakes his notes in the grove, and at eve the nightingale 
 pours forth her thrilling strain. The meadows are literally cov- 
 ered with flowers — beautiful purple salvias, pinks such as we 
 have at home in our gardens and glowing buttercups, color the 
 banks of every stream. 1 never saw richer or more luxuriant 
 foliage. Magnificent forests clothe the hills, and the villages are 
 imbedded in fruit trees, shrubbery and flowers. Sometimes we 
 go for miles through some enchanting valley, lying like a para- 
 dise between the mountains, while the distant, white Alps look on 
 it from afar ; sometimes over swelling ranges of hills, where we 
 can see to the right the valley of the Danube, threaded by 
 his silver current and dotted with white cottages and glittering 
 spires, and farther beyond, the blue mountains of the Bohemian 
 Forest. To the left, the range of the Styrian Alps stretches 
 along the sky, summit above summit, the* farther ones robed in 
 perpetual snow. I could never tire gazing on those glorious 
 hills. They fill the soul with a conception of sublimity, such as 
 one feels when listening to triumphal music. They seem like 
 the marble domes of a mighty range of temples, where eartli 
 worships her Maker with an organ-anthem of storms ! 
 
 " There is a luxury in traveling here. We walk all day through 
 such scenes, resting often in the shade of the fruit trees which 
 
BOHEMIAN GIPSIES. 173 
 
 line the road, or on a mossy bank by the side of some cool forest. 
 Sometimes for enjoyment as well as variety, we make our dining- 
 place by a clear spring instead of within a smoky tavern ; and 
 our -simple meals have a relish an epicure could never attain. 
 Away with your railroads and steamboats and mail-coaches, or 
 keep them for those who have no eye but for the sordid interests 
 of life ! With my knapsack and pilgrim-staff, I ask not their 
 aid. If a mind and soul full of rapture with beauty, a frame 
 in glowing and vigorous health, and slumbers unbroken even by 
 dreams, are blessings any one would attain, let him pedestrianize 
 it through Lower Austria !" 
 
 I have never been so strongly and constantly reminded of 
 America, as during this journey. Perhaps the balmy season, the 
 same in which I last looked upon the dear scenes of home, may 
 have its effect; but there is besides a richness in the forests and 
 waving fields of grain, a wild luxuriance over every landscape, 
 which 1 have seen nowhere else in Europe. The large farm 
 houses, buried in orchards, scattered over the valleys, add to the 
 effect. Everything seems to speak of happiness and prosperity. 
 
 We were met one morning by a band of wandering Bohemian 
 gipsies — the first of the kind I ever saw. A young woman with 
 a small child in her arms came directly up to me, and looking 
 full in my face with her wild black eyes, said, without any pre- 
 face : "Yes, he too has met with sorrow and trouble already, 
 and will still have more. But he is not false — he is true and 
 sincere, and will also meet with good luck!" She said she could 
 tell me three numbers with which I should buy a lottery ticket 
 and win a great prize. I told her I would have nothing to do 
 with the lottery, and would buy no ticket, but she persisted, say- 
 iqg : " Has he a twenty kreutzer piece ? — will he give it ? Lay 
 it in his hand and make a cross over it, and I will reveal the 
 numbers !" On my refusal, she became angry, and left me, say- 
 ing : " Let him take care — the third day something will happen 
 to him !" An old, wrinkled hag made the same proposition to 
 my companion with no better success. They reminded me stri- 
 kingly of our Indians ; their complexion is a dark brown, and 
 their eyes and hair are black as night. These belonged to a 
 
 7 
 
174 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 small tribe who wander through the forests of Bohemia, and sup- 
 port themselves by cheating and stealing. 
 
 We stopped the fourth night at Enns, a small city on the river 
 of the same name, which divides Upper from Lower Austria. 
 After leaving the beautiful little village where we passed the 
 night before, the road ascended one of those long ranges of hills, 
 which stretch off from the Danube towards the Alps. We walked 
 for miles over the broad and uneven summit, enjoying the en- 
 chanting view which opened on both sides. If we looked to the 
 right, we could trace the windings of the Danube for twenty miles, 
 his current filled with green, wooded islands ; white cities lie at 
 the foot of the hills, which, covered to the summit with grain-fields 
 and vineyards, extended back one behind another, till the farthest 
 were lost in the distance. I was glad we had taken the way 
 from Vienna to Linz by land, for from the heights we had a view 
 of the whole course of the Danube, enjoying besides, the beauty 
 of the inland vales and the far-off Styrian Alps. From the hills 
 we passed over we could see the snowy range as far as the Alps 
 of Salzburg — some of them seemed robed to the very base in 
 their white mantles. In the morning the glaciers on their sum- 
 mit glittered like stars ; it was the first time I saw the sun re- 
 flected at a hundred miles' distance ! 
 
 On descending we came into a garden-like plain, over which 
 rose the towers of Enns, built by the ransom money paid to Aus- 
 tria for the deliverance of the Lion-hearted Richard. The coun- 
 try legends say that St. Florian was thrown into the river by the 
 Romans in the third century, with a millstone around his neck, 
 which, however, held him above the water like cork, until he had 
 finished preaching them a sermon. In the villages we often saw 
 his image painted on the houses, in the act of pouring a pail of 
 water on a burning building, with the inscription beneath — " Oh, 
 holy Florian, pray for us!" This was supposed to be a charm 
 against fire. In Upper Austria, it is customary to erect a shrine 
 on the road, wherever an accident has happened, with a painting 
 and description of it, and an admonition to all passers-by to pray 
 for the soul of the unfortunate person. On one of them, for in- 
 stance, was a cart with a wild ox, wliich a man was holding by 
 the horns ; a woman kneeling by the wheels appeared to be draw- 
 
LINZ. 175 
 
 ing a little girl by the feet from under it, and the inscription stated : 
 *' By calling on Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the girl was happily res- 
 cued." Many of the shrines had images which the people no 
 doubt, in their ignorance and simplicity, considered holy, but they 
 were to us impious and almost blasphemous. 
 
 From Enns a morning's walk brought us to Linz. The peas- 
 ant girls in their broad straw hats were weeding the young wheat, 
 looking as cheerful and contented as the larks that sung above 
 them. A mile or two from Linz we passed one or two of the 
 round towers belonging to the new fortifications of the city. As 
 walls have grown out of fashion, Duke Maximilian substituted an 
 invention of his own. The city is surrounded by thirty-two tow- 
 ers, one to three miles distant from it, and so placed that they 
 form a complete line of communication and defence. They are 
 sunk in the earth, surrounded with a ditch and embankments, and 
 each is capable of containing ten cannon and three hundred men. 
 The pointed roofs of these towers are seen on all the hills around. 
 We were obliged to give up our passports at the barrier, the offi- 
 cer telling us to call for them in three hours at the City Police 
 Office ; we spent the intervening time very agreeably in rambling 
 through this gay, cheerful-looking town. With its gilded spires 
 and ornamented houses, with their green lattice-blinds, it reminds 
 one strongly of Italy, or at least of what Italy is said to be. It 
 has now quite an active and business-like aspect, occasioned by 
 the steamboat and railroad lines which connect it with Vienna, 
 Prague, Ratisbon and Salzburg. Although we had not exceeded 
 our daily allowance by more than a few kreutzers, we found that 
 twenty days would be hardly sufficient to accomplish the journey, 
 and our funds must therefore be replenished. Accordingly I 
 wrote from Linz to Frankfort, directing a small sum to be for- 
 warded to Munich, which city we hoped to reach in eight days. 
 
 We took the horse cars at Linz for Lambach, seventeen miles 
 on the way towards Gmunden. The mountains were covered 
 with clouds as we approached them, and the storms they had 
 been brewing for two or three days began to march down on the 
 plain. They had nearly reached us, when we crossed the Traun 
 and arrived at Lambach, a small city built upon a hill. We 
 left the next day at noon, and on ascending the hill after crossing 
 
176 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the Traun, had an opportunity of seeing the portrait on the 
 Traunstein. of which the aid landlord told us. I saw it at the 
 first glance — certainly it is a most remarkable freak of na- 
 ture. The rough back of the mountain forms the exact profile 
 of the human countenance, as if regularly hewn out of the rock. 
 What is still more singular, it is said to be a correct portrait ot 
 the unfortunate Louis XVI. The landlord said it was immedi- 
 ately recognized by all Frenchmen. The road followed the 
 course of the Traun, whose green waters roared at the bottom of 
 the glen below us ; we walked for several miles through a fine 
 forest, through whose openings we caught glimpses of the moun 
 tains we longed to reach. 
 
 The river roared at last somewhat louder, and on looking down 
 the bank, I saw rocks and rapids, and a few houses built on the 
 edge of the stream. Thinking it must be near the fall, we went 
 down the path, and lo ! on crossing a little wooden bridge, the 
 whole affair burst in sight ! Judge of our surprise at finding a 
 fall of fifteen feet, after we had been led to expect a tremendous 
 leap of forty or fifty, with all the accompaniment of rocks and 
 precipices. Of course the whole descent of the river at the place 
 was much greater, and there were some romantic cascades over 
 the rocks which blocked its course. Its greatest beauty consisted 
 in the color of the water — the brilliant green of the waves being 
 broken into foam of the most dazzling white — and the great force 
 with which it is thrown below. 
 
 The Traunstein grew higher as we approached, presenting the 
 same profile till we had nearly reached Gmunden. From the 
 green upland meadows above the town, the view of the mountain 
 range was glorious, and I could easily conceive tlie effect of the 
 Unknown Student's appeal to the people to fight for those free 
 hills. I think it is Howitt who relates the incident — one of the 
 most romantic in German history. Count Pappenheim led his 
 forces here in the year 1626, to suppress a revolution of the peo- 
 ple of the whole Salzburg; region, who had risen against an inva- 
 sion of their rights by the Austrian government. The battle 
 which took place on these meadows was about being decided in 
 favor of the oppressors, when a young man, clad as a student, 
 suddenly appeared and addressed the people, pointing to the Alps 
 
THE UNKNOWN STUDENT 
 
 aoove them and the sweet lake below, and asking if that land 
 
 should not be free. The effect was electrical ; they returned to 
 
 the charge and drove back the troops of Pappenheim, who were 
 
 about taking to flight, when the unknown leader fell, mortally 
 
 wounded. This struck a sudden panic through his followers, and 
 
 the Austrians turning again, gained a complete victory. But the 
 
 name of the brave student is unknown, his deed unsung by his 
 
 country's bards, and almost forgotten. 
 
 9=.c 
 
17& VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE UNKNOWN STUDENT. 
 
 Ha ! spears on Gmunden's meadows green, 
 
 And banners on the wood-crowned height ! 
 Rank after rank, their helmets' sheen 
 
 Sends back the morning light ! 
 Where late the mountain maiden sang, 
 The battle-trumpet's brazen clang 
 
 Vibrates along the air ; 
 And wild dragoons wheel o'er the plain, 
 Trampling to earth the yellow grain, 
 From which no more the merry swain 
 
 His harvest sheaves shall bear. 
 
 The eagle, in his sweep at morn, 
 
 To meet the monarch-sun on high, 
 Heard the unwonted warrior's horn 
 
 Peal faintly up the sky ! 
 He saw the foemen, moving slow 
 In serried legions, far below, 
 
 Against that peasant-band. 
 Who dared to break the tyrant's thrall 
 And by the sword of Austria fall. 
 Or keep the ancient Right of all, 
 
 Held by their mountain-land I 
 
 They came to meet that mail-clad host 
 
 From glen and wood and ripening field ; 
 A brave, stout arm, each man could boast— 
 
 A soul, unused to yield ! 
 They met : a shout, prolonged and loud, 
 Went hovering upward with the cloud 
 
 That closed around them dun ; 
 Blade upon blade unceasing clashed. 
 Spears in the onset shivering crashed, 
 And the red glare of cannon flashed 
 
 Athwart the smoky sun ! 
 
THE UNKNOWN STUDENT. 
 
 The mountain warriors wavered back, 
 
 Borne down by myriads of the foe, 
 Like pines before the torrent's track 
 
 When spring has warmed the snow. 
 Shall Faith and Freedom vainly call, 
 And Gmunden's warrior-herdsmen fall 
 
 On the red field in vain ? 
 No ! from the throng that back retired, 
 A student boy sprang forth inspired, 
 And while his words their bosoms fired, 
 
 Led on the charge again ! 
 
 " And thus your free arms would ye give 
 
 So tamelj^ to a tyrant's band. 
 And with the hearts of vassals live 
 
 In this, your chainless land ? 
 The emerald lake is spread below, 
 And tower above, the hills of snow — 
 
 Here, field and forest lie ; 
 This land, so glorious and so free — 
 Say, shall it crushed and trodden be ? 
 Say, would ye rather bend the knee 
 
 Than for its freedom die ? 
 
 " Look ! yonder stand in mid-day's glare 
 
 The everlasting Alps of snow, 
 And from their peaks a purer air 
 
 Breathes o'er the vales below ! 
 The Traunstein's brow is bent in pride- 
 He brooks no craven on his side — 
 
 Would ye be fettered then ? 
 There lifts the Sonnenstein his head, 
 There chafes the Traun his rocky bed 
 And Aurach's lovely vale is spread — 
 
 Look on them and be men ! 
 
 *' Let, like a trumpet's sound of fire, 
 
 These stir your souls to manhood's part 
 The glory of the Alps inspire 
 
 Each yet unconquered heart ! 
 For, through their unpolluted air 
 Soars fresher up the grateful prayer 
 From freemen, unto God ; — 
 
*.0 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 A blessing on those mountains old ! 
 On to the combat, brethren bold ! 
 Strike, that ye free the valleys hold, 
 Where free your fathers trod !" 
 
 And like a mighty storm that tears 
 
 The icy avalanche from its bed, 
 They rushed against th' opposing spears — 
 
 The student at their head ! 
 The bands of Austria fought in vain ; 
 A bloodier harvest heaped the plain 
 
 At every charge they made ; 
 Each herdsman was a hero then — 
 The mountain hunters stood like men, 
 And echoed from the farthest glen 
 
 The clash of blade on blade ! 
 
 The banner in the student's hand 
 
 Waved triumph from the fight before ; 
 What terror seized the conq'ring band ? — 
 
 It fell, to rise no more ! 
 And with it died the lofty flame, 
 That from his lips in lightning came 
 
 And burned upon their own ; 
 Dread Pappenheim led back the foe, 
 The mountain peasants yielded slow. 
 And plain above and lake below 
 
 Were red when evening shone ! 
 
 Now many a year has passed away 
 
 Since battle's blast rolled o'er the plain, 
 The Alps are bright in morning's ray — 
 
 The Traunstein smiles again. 
 But underneath the flowery sod, 
 By happy peasant children trod, 
 
 A hero's ashes lay. 
 O'er him no grateful nation wept, 
 Fame, of his deed no record kept, 
 And dull Forgetfulness hath swept 
 
 His very name away ! 
 
 ^■r (Btiany a grave, by poets sung. 
 There falls to dust a lofty brow, 
 
 But he alone, the brave and young, 
 Sleeps there forgotten now. 
 
THE UNKNOWN STUDENT. 191 
 
 The Alps upon that field look down, 
 Which won his bright and brief renown, 
 
 Beside the lake's green shore ; 
 Still wears the land a tyrant's chain^ 
 Still bondmen tread the battle-plain, 
 Called by his glorious soul in vain _ 
 
 To win their rights of yore. 
 
162 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE AUSTRIAN ALPS. 
 
 It was nearly dark when we came to the end of the plain and 
 looked on the city at our feet and the lovely lake that lost itself 
 in the mountains before us. We were early on board the steam- 
 boat next morning, with a cloudless sky above us and a snow- 
 crested Alp beckoning on from the end of the lake. The water 
 was of the most beautiful green hue, the morning light colored 
 the peaks around with purple, and a misty veil rolled up the rocks 
 of the Traunstein. We stood on the prow and enjoyed to the 
 fullest extent the enchanting scenery. The white houses of 
 Gmunden sank down to the water's edge like a flock of ducks ; 
 half-way we passed castle Ort, on a rock in the lake, whose sum- 
 mit is covered with trees. 
 
 As we neared the otlier extremity, the mountains became 
 steeper and loftier ; there was no path along their wild sides, nor 
 even a fisher's hut nestled at their feet, and the snow filled the 
 ravines more than half-way from the summit. An hour and a 
 quarter brought us to Ebensee, at the head of the lake, where 
 we landed and plodded on towards Ischl, following the Traun up 
 a narrow valley, whose mountain-walls shut out more than half 
 the sky. They are covered with forests, and the country is in- 
 habited entirely by the woodmen who fell the mountain pines and 
 float the timber rafts down to the Danube. The steeps are marked 
 with white lines, where the trees have been rolled, or rather 
 thrown from the summit. Often they descend several miles over 
 rocks and precipices, where the least deviation from the track 
 would dash them in a thousand pieces. This generally takes 
 place in the winter when the sides are covered with snow and 
 ice. It must be a dangerous business, for there are many crosses 
 by the way-side where the pictures represent persons accidentally 
 
ST. WOLFGANG. 18J 
 
 killed by the trees ; an additional painting represents them as 
 burning in the flames of purgatory, and the pious traveler is re- 
 quested to pray an Ave or a Paternoster for the repose of their 
 souls. 
 
 On we went, up the valley of the Traun, between mountains 
 five and six thousand feet high, through scenes constantly chang- 
 ing and constantly grand, for three or four hours. Finally the 
 hills opened, disclosing a little triangular valley, whose base was 
 formed by a mighty mountain covered with clouds. Through 
 the two side-angles came the Traun and his tributary the Ischl, 
 while the little town of Ischl lay in the centre. Within a few 
 years this has become a very fashionable bathing- place, and the 
 influx of rich visitors, which in the summer sometimes amounts 
 to two thousand, has entirely destroyed the primitive simplicity 
 the inhabitants originally possessed. From Ischl we took a road 
 through the forests to St. Wolfgang, on the lake of the same name. 
 The last part of the way led along the banks of the lake, disclos- 
 ing some delicious views. These Alpine lakes surpass any 
 scenery I have yet seen. The water is of the most beautiful 
 green, like a sheet of molten beryl, and the cloud-piercing moun- 
 tains that encompass them shut out the sun for nearly half the 
 day. St. Wolfgang is a lovely village in a cool and quiet nook 
 at the foot of the Schafberg. The houses are built in the pictur- 
 esque Swiss style, with flat, projecting roofs and ornamented bal- 
 conies, and the people are the very picture of neatness and cheer- 
 fulness. 
 
 We started next morning to ascend the Schafberg, which is 
 called the Righi of the Austrian Switzerland. It is somewhat 
 higher than its Swiss namesake, and commands a prospect scarcely 
 less extensive or grand. We followed a footpath through the 
 thick forest by the side of a roaring torrent. The morning mist 
 still covered the lake, but the white summits of the Salzburg and 
 Noric Alps opposite us, rose above it and stood pure and bright in 
 the upper air. We passed a little mill and one or two cottages, 
 and then wound round one of the lesser heights into a deep ravine, 
 down in whose dark shadow we sometimes heard the axe and saw 
 of the mountain woodmen. Finally the path disappeared altogether 
 under a mass of logs and rocks, which appeared to have been 
 
184 VIEWS A-I^OOT. 
 
 whirled together by a sudden flood. We deliberated what to do; 
 the summit rose several thousand feet above us, almost precipi- 
 tously steep, but we did not like to turn back, and there was still 
 a hope of meeting with the path again. Clambering over the 
 ruins and rubbish we pulled ourselves by the limbs of trees up a 
 steep ascent and descended again to the stream. We here saw 
 the ravine was closed by a wall of rock and our only chance was 
 to cross to the west side of the mountain, where the ascent seemed 
 somewhat easier. A couple of mountain maidens whom we for- 
 tunately met, carrying home grass for their goats, told us the 
 mountain could be ascended on that side, by one who could climb 
 well — laying a strong emphasis on the word. The very doubt 
 implied in this expression was enough to decide us ; so we began 
 the work. And work it was, too ! The side was very steep, the 
 trees all leaned downwards, and we slipped at every step on the 
 dry leaves and grass. After making a short distance this way 
 with the greatest labor, we came to the track of an avalanche, 
 which had swept away the trees and earth. Here the rock had 
 been worn rough by torrents, but by using both hands and feet, 
 we clomb directly up the side of the mountain, sometimes drag- 
 ging ourselves up by the branches of trees where the rocks were 
 smooth. After half an hour of such work we came above the 
 forests, on the bare side of the mountain. The summit was far 
 above us and so steep that our limbs involuntarily shrunk from 
 the task of climbing. The side ran up at an angle of nearly 
 sixty degrees, and the least slip threw us flat on our faces. We 
 had to use both hand and foot, and were obliged to rest every few 
 minutes to recover breath. Crimson-flowered moss and bright 
 blue gentians covered the rocks, and I filled my books with blos- 
 soms for friends at home. 
 
 Up and up, for what seemed an age, we clambered. So steep 
 was it, that the least rocky projection hid my friend from sight, as 
 he was coming up below me. I let stones roll sometimes, which 
 went down, down, almost like a cannon-ball, till I could see them 
 no more. At length we reached the region of dwarf pines, which 
 was even more difliicult to pass through.* Although the mountain 
 was not so steep, this forest, centuries old, reached no higher than 
 our breasts, and the trees leaned downwards, so that we were 
 
SUMMIT OF THE SCHAFBERG. 1S5 
 
 obliged to take hold of the tops of those above us, and drag our- 
 selves up through the others. Here and there lay large patches 
 of snow ; we sat down in the glowing June sun, and bathed our 
 hands and faces in it. Finally the sky became bluer and broader, 
 the clouds seemed nearer, and a few more steps through the 
 bushes brought us to the summit of the mountain, on the edge of 
 a precipice a thousand feet deep, whose bottom stood in a vast 
 field of snow ! 
 
 We lay down on the heather, exhausted by five hours' inces- 
 sant toil, and drank in like a refreshing draught, the sublimity of 
 the scene. The green lakes of the Salzburg Alps lay far below 
 us, and the whole southern horizon was filled with the mighty 
 range of the Sty nan and Noric Alps, their summits of never-melt- 
 ing snow mingling and blending with the clouds. On the other 
 side the mountains of Salzburg lifted their ridgy backs from the 
 plains of Bavaria and the Chiem lake lay spread out in the blue 
 distance. A line of mist far to the north betrayed the path of 
 the Danube, and beyond it we could barely trace the outline of 
 the Bohemian mountains. With a glass the spires of Munich, 
 one hundred and twenty miles distant, can be seen. It was a 
 view whose grandeur I can never forget. In that dome of the 
 cloud we seemed to breathe a purer air than that of earth. 
 
 After an hour or two, we began to think of descending, as the 
 path was yet to be found. The summit, which was a mile or 
 more in length, extended farther westward, and by climbing over 
 the dwarf pines for some time, we saw a little wooden house 
 above us. It stood near the highest part of the peak, and two or 
 three men were engaged in repairing it, as a shelter for travel- 
 ers. They pointed out the path which went down on the side 
 toward St. Gilgen, and we began descending. The mountain on 
 this side is much less steep, but the descent is fatiguing enough. 
 The path led along the side of a glen where mountain goats were 
 grazing, and further down we saw cattle feeding on the little spots 
 of verdure which lay in the forest. My knees became so weak 
 from this continued descent, that they would scarcely support me ; 
 but we were three hours, partly walking and partly running 
 down, before we reached the bottom. Half an hour's walk around 
 
186 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the head of the St. Wolfgang See, brought us to the little village 
 of St. Gilgen. 
 
 The valley of St. Gilgen lies like a little paradise between the 
 mountains. Lovely green fields and woods slope gradually from 
 the mountain behind, to the still greener lake spread out before it, 
 in whose bosom the white Alps are mirrored. Its picturesque 
 cottages cluster around the neat church with its lofty spire, and 
 the simple inhabitants have countenances as bright and cheerful 
 as the blue sky above them. We breathed an air of poetry. The 
 Arcadian simplicity of the people, the pastoral beauty of the fields 
 around and the grandeur of the mountains which shut it out from 
 the world, realized my ideas of a dwelling-place, where, with a 
 few kindred spirits, the bliss of Eden might almost be I'estored. 
 
 We stopped there two or three hours to relieve our hunger and 
 fatigue. My boots had suffered severely in our mountain adven- 
 ture, and I called at a shoemaker's cottage to get ihem repaired. 
 I sat down and talked for half an hour with the family. The 
 man and his wife spoke of the delightful scenery around them, 
 and expressed themselves with correctness and • even elegance. 
 They were much pleased that I admired their village so greatly, 
 and related every thing which they supposed could interest me. 
 As I rose to go, my head nearly touched the ceiling, which was 
 very low. The man exclaimed : " Ach Gott ! how tall !" I 
 told him the people were all tall in our country ; he then asked 
 where I came from, and I had no sooner said America, than he 
 threw up his hands and uttered an ejaculation of the greatest sur- 
 prise. His wife observed that " it was wonderful how far man 
 was permitted to travel." They wished me a prosperous journey 
 and a safe return home. 
 
 St. Gilgen was also interesting to me from that beautiful chap- 
 ter in " Hyperion" — " Footsteps of Angels," — and on passing the 
 church on my way back to the inn, I entered the grave-yard 
 mentioned in it. The green turf grows thickly over the rows of 
 mounds, with here and there a rose planted by the hand of affec- 
 tion, and the white crosses were hung with wreaths, some of 
 which had been freshly laid on. Behind the church, under the 
 shade of a tree, stood a small chapel, — I ooened the unfastened 
 
THE VALLEY OF SALZBURG. 187 
 
 door, and entered. The afternoon sun shone through the side win- 
 dow, and all was still around. A little shrine, adorned with flow- 
 ers, stood at the other end, and there were two tablets on the wall, 
 to persons who slumbered beneath. I approached these and read 
 on one of them with feelings not easily described : " Look not 
 mournfully into the past — it comes not again ; wisely improve the 
 present — it is thine ; and go forward to meet the shadowy future, 
 without fear, and with a manly heart !" This then was the spot 
 where l^aul Flemming came in loneliness and sorrow to muse 
 over what he had lost, and these were the words whose truth and 
 eloquence strengthened and consoled him, " as if the unknown 
 tenant of the grave had opened his lips of dust and spoken those 
 words of consolation his soul needed." I sat down and mused a 
 long time, for there was something in the sitent holiness of the 
 spot, that impressed me more than I could well describe. 
 
 We reached a little village on the Fuschel See, the same 
 evening, and set off the next morning for Salzburg. The day 
 was hot and we walked slowly, so that it was not till two o'clock 
 that we saw the castellated rocks on the side of the Gaissberff, 
 guarding the entrance to the valley of Salzburg. A short dis- 
 tance further, the whole glorious panorama was spread out below 
 us. From the height on which we stood, we looked directly on 
 the summit of the Capuchin Mountain, which hid part of the city 
 from sight ; the double peak of the Staufen rose opposite, and a 
 heavy storm was raging along the Alpine heights around it, while 
 the lovely valley lay in sunshine below, threaded by the bright 
 current of the Salza. As we descended and passed around the 
 foot of the hill, the Untersberg came in sight, whose broad sum- 
 mits lift themselves seven thousand feet above the plain. The 
 legend says that Charlemagne and his warriors sit in its subter- 
 raneous caverns in complete armoi', and that they will arise and 
 come forth again, when Germany recovers her former power and 
 glory. 
 
 I wish I could convey in words some idea of the elevation ot 
 spirit experienced while looking on these eternal mountains. 
 Tliey fill the soul with a sensation of power and grandeur which 
 frees it awhile from the cramps and fetters of common life. It 
 rises and expands to the level of their sublimity, till its thoughts 
 
188 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 stand solemnly aloft, like their summits, piercing the free hea- 
 ven. Their dazzling and imperishable beauty is to the mind 
 an image of its own enduring existence. When I stand upon 
 some snowy summit — the invisible apex of that mighty pyramid 
 — there seems a majesty in my weak will which might defy the 
 elements. This sense of power, inspired by a silent sympathy 
 with the forms of nature, is beautifully described — as shown in 
 the free, unconscious instincts of childhood — by the poet Uhland, 
 in his ballad of the " Mountain Boy." I have attempted a trans- 
 lation. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN BOY. 
 
 A herd-boy on tlie mountain's brow, 
 I see the castles all below. 
 The sunbeam here is earliest cast 
 And by my side it lingers last — 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 The mother-house of streams is here — 
 1 drink them in their cradles clear ; 
 From out the rock they foam below, 
 I spring to catch them as they go ! 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 To me belongs the mountain's bound, 
 "Where gathering tempests march around ; 
 But though from north and south they shout, 
 Above them still my song rings out — 
 " I am the boy of the mountain !" 
 
 Below me clouds and thunders move ; 
 I stand amid the blue above. 
 I shout to them with fearless breast : 
 " Go, leave my father's house in rest !'^ 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 And when the loud bell shakes the spires 
 And flame aloft the signal-fires, 
 I go below and join the throng 
 And swing ray sword and sing my song: 
 " I am the boy of the mountain !" 
 
 Salzburg lies on both sides of the Salza, hemmed in on either 
 hand by precipitous mountains. A large fortress overlooks it 
 on the south, from the summit of a perpendicular rock, against 
 
ENTERING BAVARIA. 189 
 
 which the houses in that part of the city are built. The streets 
 are narrow and crooked, but the newer part contains many open 
 squares, adorned with handsome fountains. The variety of cos- 
 tume among the people, is very interesting. The inhabitants of 
 the salt district have a peculiar dress ; the women wear round 
 fur caps, with little wings of gauze at the side. I saw other 
 women with head-dresses of gold or silver filagree, something in 
 shdpe like a Roman helmet, with a projection at the back of the 
 herd, a foot long. The most interesting objects in Salzburg to 
 us, were the house of Mozart, in which the composer was born, 
 'and the monument lately erected to him. The St. Peter's 
 Church, near by, contains the tomb of tiaydn, the great compo- 
 ser, and the Church of St. Sebastian, that of the renowned Para- 
 celsus, who was also a native of Salzburg. 
 
 Two or three hours sufficed to see every thing of interest in 
 the city. We had intended to go further through the Alps, to 
 the beautiful vales of the Tyrol, but our time was getting short, 
 our boots, which are the pedestrian's sole dependence, began to 
 show symptoms of wearing ouU and our expenses among the 
 lakes and mountains of Upper Austria, left us but two florins 
 apiece, so we reluctantly turned our backs upon the snowy hills 
 and set out for Munich, nip^ety miles distant. After passing the 
 night at Saalbruck, on the banks of the stream which separates 
 the two kingdoms, we entered Bavaria next morning. I could 
 not help feeling glad to leave Austria, although within her bounds 
 I had passed scenes whose beauty will long haunt me, and met 
 with many honest friendly hearts among her people. We noticed 
 a change as soon as we had crossed the border. The roads were 
 neater and handsomer, and the country people greeted us in going 
 by, with a friendly cheerfulness that made us feel half at home. 
 The houses are built in the picturesque Swiss fashion, their bal- 
 conies often ornamented with curious figures, carved in wood. 
 ?vlany of them, where they are situated remote from a church, 
 have a little bell on the roof which they ring for morning and 
 evening prayers ; we often heard these simple monitors sound- 
 ing from the cottages as we passed by. 
 
 The next night we stopped at the little village of Stein, famous 
 in former times for its robber-knight, Hans von Stein. The ruins 
 
190 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of his castle stand on the rock above, and the caverns hewn in 
 the sides of the precipice, where he used to confine his prisoners, 
 are still visible. Walking on through a pleasant, well-cultivated 
 country, we came to Wasserburg, on the Inn. The situation of 
 the city is peculiar. The Inn has gradually worn his channel 
 deeper in the sandy soil, so that he now flows at the bottom of a 
 glen, a hundred feet below the plains around. Wasserburg lies 
 in a basin, formed by the change of the current, which flows 
 around it like a horse-shoe, leaving only a narrow neck of land 
 which connects it with the country above. 
 
 We left the little village where we were quartered for the 
 night and took a foot path which led across the country to the 
 field of Hohenlinden, about six miles distant. The name had 
 been familiar to me from childhood, and my love for Campbell, 
 with the recollection of the school-exhibitions where " On Linden 
 when the sun was low" had been so often declaimed, induced 
 me to make the excursion to it. We traversed a large forest, 
 belonging to the King of Bavaria, and came out on a plain 
 covered with grain-fields and bounded on the right by a semi- 
 circle of low hills. Over the fields, about two miles distant, a tall, 
 minaret-like spire rose from a small cluster of houses, and this 
 was Hohenlinden ! To tell the truth, I had been expecting 
 something more. The " hills of blood-stained snow" are very 
 small hills indeed, and the " Isar, rolling rapidly," is several 
 miles ofT; it was the spot, however, and we recited Campbell's 
 poem, of course, and brought away a iew wild flowers as me. 
 morials. There is no monument or any other token of the bat- 
 tle, and the people seem to endeavor to forget the scene of 
 Moreau's victory and their defeat. 
 
 From a hill twelve miles off we had our first view of the 
 spires of Munich, looking like distant ships over the sea-like 
 plain. They kept in sight till we arrived at eight o'clock in the 
 evening, after a walk of more than thirty miles. We crossed 
 the rapid Isar on three bridges, entered the magnificent Isar 
 Gate, and were soon comfortably quartered in the heart of 
 Munich. 
 
 Entering the city without knowing a siugle soul within it, we 
 made within a few minutes an agreeable acquaintance. After we 
 
ARRIVAL AT MUNICH. 191 
 
 passed the Isar Gate, we began looking for a decent inn, for the 
 day's walk was very fatiguing. Presently a young man, who 
 had been watching us for some time, came up and said, if we 
 would allow him, he would conduct us to a good lodging-place. 
 Finding we were strangers, he expressed the greatest regret that 
 he had not time to go with us every day around the city. Our 
 surprise and delight at the splendor of Munich, he said, would 
 more than repay him for the trouble. In his anxiety to show us 
 something, he took us some distance out of the way, (although it 
 was growing dark and we were very tired,) to see the Palace and 
 the Theatre, with its front of rich frescoes. 
 
 SND OF PART . 
 
MUNICH. If 3 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MUNICH. 
 
 June 14. — I thought I had seen every thing in Vienna that could 
 excite admiration or gratify fancy; here I have my former sensa- 
 tions to live over again, in an augmented degree. It is well 1 
 was at first somewhat prepared by our previous travel, otherwise 
 the glare and splendor of Avealth and art in this German Athens 
 might blind me to the beauties of the cities we shall yet visit. 
 I have been walking in a dream where the fairy tales of boy- 
 hood were realized, and the golden and jeweled halls of the 
 Eastern genii rose glittering around me — " a vision of the brain 
 no more." All 1 had conceived of oriental magnificence, all 
 descriptions of the splendor of kingly halls and palaces, fall far 
 .short of what I here see. Where shall I bes^in to describe the 
 crowd of splendid edifices that line its streets, or how give an 
 idea of the profusion of paintings and statues — of marble, jasper 
 and gold ? 
 
 Art has done every thing for Munich. It lies on a larore, flat 
 plain, sixteen hundred feet above the sea, and continually exposed 
 1o the cold winds from the Alps. At the beginning of the pres- 
 ent century it was but a third-rate city, and was rarely visited 
 by foreigners. Since that time its population and limits have 
 been doubled, and magnificent edifices in every style of archi- 
 tecture erected, rendering it scarcely secondary in this respect to 
 any capital in Europe. Every art that wealth or taste could de- 
 vise, seems to have been spent in its decoration. Broad, spacious 
 streets and squares have been laid out, churches, halls and colle- 
 ges erected, and schools of painting and sculpture established, 
 which draw artists from all parts of the world. All this was 
 principally brought about by the taste of the present king, 
 Ludwig I., who began twenty or thirty years ago, when he was 
 
 10 
 
194 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Crown Prince, to collect the best German artists around him and 
 form plans for the execution of his grand design. He can boast 
 of having done more for the arts than any other living monarch, 
 and if he had accomplished it all without oppressing his people, 
 he would deserve an immortality of fame. 
 
 Now, if you have nothing else to do. let us take a stroll down 
 the Ludwigstrasse. As we pass the Theatiner Church, with its 
 dome and towers, the broad street opens before us, stretching 
 away to the north, between rows of magnificent buildings. Just 
 at this southern end, is the Schlusshalle , an open temple of white 
 marble terminating the avenue. To the right of us extend the 
 arcades, with the trees of the Royal Garden peeping above them ; 
 on the left is the spacious concert building of the Odeon, and the 
 palace of the Duke of Leuchtenberg, son of Eugene Beauhar- 
 nois. Passing through a row of palace-like private buildings, 
 we come to the Army Department, on the right — a neat and 
 tasteful building of white sandstone. Beside it stands the Library, 
 which possesses the first special claim on our admiration. With 
 its splendid front of five hundred and eighteen feet, the yellowish 
 brown cement with which the body is covered, making an agree- 
 able contrast with the dark red window-arches and cornices, and 
 the statues of Homer, Hippocrates, Thucydides and Aristotle 
 guarding the portal, is it not a worthy receptacle for the treasures 
 of ancient and modern lore which its halls contain ? 
 
 Nearly opposite stands the Institute for the Blind, a plain but 
 large building of dark red brick, covered with cement, and fur- 
 ther, the Ludwig's Kirche, or Church of St. Louis. How lightly 
 the two square towers of gray marble lift their network of sculp- 
 ture ! And what a novel and beautiful effect is produced by 
 uniting the Byzantine style of architecture to the form of the 
 Latin cross ! Over the arched portal stand marble statues by 
 Schwanthaler, and the roof of brilliant tiles worked into mosaic, 
 looks like a rich Turkey carpet covering the whole. We must 
 enter to get an idea of the splendor of this church. Instead of the 
 pointed arch which one would expect to see meeting above his 
 head, the lofty pillars on each side bear an unbroken semicircular 
 vault, which is painted a brilliant blue, and spangled with silver 
 stars. These pillars, and the little arches above, which spring 
 
THE SPLENDOR OF MUNICH. 195 
 
 from them, are painted in an arabesque style with gold and bril- 
 liant colors, and each side-chapel is a perfect casket of richness 
 and elegance. The windows are of silvered glass, through which 
 the light glimmers softly on the splendor within. The whole end 
 of the church behind the high altar, is taken up with Cornelius's 
 celebrated fresco painting of the " Last Judgment," — the largest 
 pointing in the world — and the circular dome in the centre of the 
 cross contains groups of martyrs, prophets, saints and kings, 
 pa.'nted in fresco on a ground of gold. The work of Cornelius 
 has been greatly praised for sublimity of design and beauty of 
 execution, by many acknowledged judges ; I was disappointed in 
 it., but the fault lay most probably in me and not in the painting. 
 The richness and elegance of the church took me all "aback;" 
 it was so entirely different from anything I had seen, that it was 
 diliicult to decide whether 1 was most charmed by its novelty or 
 its beauty. Still, as a building designed to excite feelings of 
 worship, it seems to me inappropriate. A vast, dim Cathedral 
 woald be far preferable ; the devout, humble heart cannot feel at 
 h'>me amid such fflare and brio;htness. 
 
 As we leave the church and walk further on, the street expands 
 suddenly into a broad square. One side is formed by the new 
 University building and the other by the Royal Seminary, both 
 dii^playing in their architecture new forms of the graceful Byzan- 
 tine school, which the architects of Munich have adapted in a 
 striking manner to so many varied purposes. On each side 
 stands a splendid colossal fountain of bronze, throwing up a great 
 mass of water, which falls in a triple cataract to the marble basin 
 bb^ow. A short distance beyond this square the Ludwigstrasse 
 terminates. It is said the end will be closed by a magnificent 
 ga.'e, on a style to correspond with the unequalled avenue to which 
 it will give entrance. To one standins; at the southern end, it 
 would form a proper termination to the grand vista. Before we 
 leave, turn around and glance back, down this street, which ex- 
 tends for half a mile between such buildings as we have just view- 
 ed, and tell me if it is not somethino- of which a city and a king 
 may boast, to have created all this within less than twenty years . 
 
 We went one morning to see the collection of paintings formerly 
 belonging to Eugene Beauharnois, who was brother-in-law to the 
 
196 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 present king of Bavaria, in the palace of his son, the Dui^e of 
 Leuchtenberg. The first hall contains works principally by- 
 French artists, among which are two by Gerard — a beautiful 
 portrait of Josephine, and the blind Belisarius carrying his dead 
 companion. The boy's head lies on the old man's shoulder ; but 
 for the livid paleness of his limbs, he would seem to be only 
 asleep, while a deep and settled sorrow marks the venerable fea- 
 tures of the unfortunate Emperor. In the middle of the room 
 are six pieces of statuary, among which Canova's world-renown- 
 ed ^roup of the Graces at once attracts the eye. There is also 
 a kneeling Magdalen, lovely in her woe, by the same sculptor, and 
 a very touching work of Schadow, representing a shepherd boy 
 tenderly binding his sash around a lamb which he has acciden- 
 tally wounded with his arrow. 
 
 We have since seen in the St. Michael's Church, the monu- 
 ment to Euo;ene Beauharnois, from the chisel of Thorvvald^en. 
 The noble, manly figure of the son of Josephine is represented in 
 the Roman mantle, with his helmet and sword lying on the ground 
 by him. On one side sits History, writing on a tablet; on the 
 other, st^nd the two brother-angels, Death and Immortality. 
 They lean lovingly together, with arms around each other, but the 
 sweet countenance of Death has a cp^st of sorrow, as he stands 
 with inverted torch and a wreath of poppies among his clustering 
 locks. Immortality, crowned with never-fading flowers, looks 
 upwards with a smile of triumph, and holds in one hand his 
 blazing torch. It is a beautiful idea, and Thorwaldsen has made 
 the marble eloquent with feeling. 
 
 The inside of the square formed by the Arcades and the New 
 Residence, is filled with noble old trees, which in summer make a 
 leafy roof over the pleasant walks. In the middle, stands a grotto, 
 ornamented with rough pebbles and shells, and only needing a 
 fountain to make it a perfect hall of Neptune. Passing through 
 the northern Arcade, one comes mto the magnificent park, called 
 the English Garden, which extends more than four miles along 
 the bank of the Isar, several branches of whose milky current 
 wander through it, and form one or two pretty cascades. It is a 
 beautiful alternation of forest and meadow, and has all the rich- 
 ness and garden-like luxuriance of English scenery. Winding 
 
THE NEW RESIDENCE. 19/ 
 
 walks lead along the Isar, or through the wood of venerable oaks, 
 and sometimes a lawn of half a mile in length, with a picturesque 
 temple at its farther end, comes in sight through the trees. 1 
 was better pleased with this park than with the Prater in Vienna. 
 Its paths are always filled with persons enjoying the change from 
 the dusty streets to its quiet and cool retirement. 
 
 The New Residence is not only one of the wonders of Munich, 
 but of the world. Although commenced in 1826 and carried on 
 constantly since that time by a number of architects, sculptors 
 and painters, it is not yet finished ; if art were not inexhaustible 
 it would be difficult to imagine what more could be added. The 
 north side of the Max Joseph Platz is taken up by its front of four 
 hundred and thirty feet, which was nine years in building, under 
 the direction of the architect Klenze. The exterior is copied 
 after the Palazzo Pitti, in Florence. The building is of light 
 brown sandstone, and combines an elegance and even splendor, 
 with the most chaste and classic style. The northern front, which 
 faces on the Royal Garden, is now nearly finished. It has the 
 enormous length of eight hundred feet ; in the middle is a por- 
 tico of ten Ionic columns ; instead of supporting a triangular 
 facade, each pillar stands separate and bears a marble statue from 
 the chisel of Schwanthaler. 
 
 The interior of the building does not disappoint the promise of 
 the outside. It is open every afternoon in the absence of the 
 king, for the inspection of visitors ; fortunately for us, his majesty 
 is at present on a journey through his provinces on the Rhine. 
 We went early to the waiting hall, where several travelers were 
 already assembled, and at four o'clock, were admitted into the 
 newer part of the palace, containing the throne hall, ball-room, etc. 
 On entering the first hall, designed for the lackeys and royal 
 servants, we were all obliged to thrust our feet into cloth slippers 
 to walk over the polished mosaic floor. The walls are of sca- 
 gliola marble and the ceilings ornamented brilliantly in fresco. 
 The second hall, also for servants, gives tokens of increasing 
 splendor in the richer decorations of the walls and the more ela- 
 borate mosaic of the floor. We next entered the receiving saloon, 
 in which the Court Marshal receives the guests. The ceiling is 
 of arabesque sculpture, profusely painted and gilded. Passing 
 
98 V1£:WS A-FOOT. 
 
 through a little cabinet, we entered the great dancing saloon. 
 Its floor is the richest mosaic of wood of difierent colors, the sides 
 are of polished scagliola marble, and the ceiling a dazzling mix- 
 ture of sculpture, painting and gold. At one end is a gallery for 
 the orchestra, supported by six columns of variegated marble, 
 above which are six dancing nymphs, painted so beautifully that 
 they appear like living creatures. Every decoration which could 
 be devised has been used to heighten its splendor, and the artists 
 appear to have made free use of the Arabian Nights in forming 
 the plan. 
 
 We entered next two smaller rooms containing the portraits of 
 beautiful women, principally from the German nobility. I ga\3 
 the preference to the daughter of Marco Bozzaris, now maid of 
 honor to the Queen of Greece. She had a wild dark eye, a 
 beautiful proud lip, and her rich black hair rolled in gloss}' waves 
 down her neck from under the red Grecian cap stuck jauntily on 
 the side of her head. She wore a scarf and close-fitting vest em- 
 broidered with gold, and there was a free, lofty spirit in her coun- 
 tenance worthy the name she bore. These pictures form a 
 gallery of beauty, whose equal cannot easily be found. 
 
 Retv'irning to the dancing hall, we entered the dining saloon, 
 also called the Hall of Charlemao;ne. Each wall has two mas;- 
 nificent fresco paintings of very large size, representing some 
 event in the life of the great emperor, beginning with his anoint- 
 ing at St. Deny's as a boy of twelve years, and ending with his 
 coronation by Leo III. A second dining saloon, the Hall of Bar- 
 barossa, adjoins the first. It has also eight frescoes as the former, 
 representing the principal events in the life of Frederic Barba- 
 rossa. Then comes a third, called the Hapsburg Hall, with four 
 grand paintings from the life of Rudolph of Hapsburg, and a tri- 
 umphal procession along the frieze, showing the improvement in 
 the arts and sciences which was accomplished under his reign. 
 The drawing, composition and rich tone of coloring of these glo- 
 rious frescoes, are scarcely excelled by any in existence. 
 
 Finally we entered the Hall of the Throne. Here the encaus 
 tic decoration, so plentifully employed in the other rooms, is 
 dropped, and an effect even more brilliant obtained by the unhed 
 use of marble and gold. Picture a long hall with a floor of 
 
THE KING'S APARTMENTS. 199 
 
 polished marble, on each side twelve columns of white marble 
 with gilded capitals, between which stand colossal statues of gold. 
 At the other end is the throne of gold and crimson, with gorgeous 
 hangings of crimson velvet. The twelve statues in the hall are 
 called the " VVittlesbach Ancestors," and represent renowned 
 members of the house of Wittlesbach from which the present 
 family of Bavaria is descended. They were cast in bronze by 
 Stiglmaier, after the models of Schwanthaler, and then completely 
 covered with a coating of gold, so that they resemble solid golden 
 statues. The value of the precious melal on each one is about 
 ^3,000, as they are nine feet in height ! What would the poli- 
 ticians who made such an outcry about the new papering of the 
 President's House, say to such a palace as this ? 
 
 Going back to the starting point, we went to the other wing of 
 the edifice and joined the party who came to visit the apartments 
 of the king. Here we were led through two or three rooms, ap- 
 propriated to the servants, with all the splendor of marble doors, 
 floors of mosaic, and frescoed ceilings. From these we entered 
 the king's dwelling. The entrance halls are decorated with 
 paintings of the Argonauts and illustrations of the Hymns of 
 Hesiod, after drawings by Schwanthaler. Then came the Ser- 
 vice Hall, containing frescoes illustrating Homer, by Schnorr, 
 and the Throne Hall, with Schwanthaler's bas-roliefs of the songs 
 of Pindar, on a ground of gold. The throne stands under a splen- 
 did crimson canopy. The Dining Room with its floor of polished 
 wood is filled with illustrations of the songs of Anacreon. To 
 these follow the Dressing Room, with twenty-seven illustrations 
 of the Comedies of Aristophanes, and the sleeping chamber with 
 frescoes after the poems of Theocritus, and two beautiful bas- 
 reliefs representing angels bearing ciiildren to Heaven. It is no 
 wonder the King writes poetry, when he breathes, eats, and even 
 sleeps in an atmosphere of it. 
 
 We were shown the rooms for the private parties of the Court, 
 the school-room, with scenes from the life of the Ancient Greeks, 
 and then conducted down the marble staircases to the lower story, 
 which is to contain Schnorr's magnificent frescoes of the Nibel- 
 ungen Lied — tl4f3 old German Iliad. Two halls are at present 
 finished ; the first has the figure y. the author, Heinrich von Of- 
 
200 VIEWS AFOOT. 
 
 terdingen, and those of Chriemhilde, Brunhilde, Siegfried and 
 the other personages of the poem ; and the second, called the 
 Marriage Hall, contains the marriage of Chriemhilde and Sieg- 
 fried, and the triumphal entry of Siegfried into Worms. 
 
 Adjoining the new residence on the east, is the Royal Chapel, 
 lately finished in the Byzantine style, under the direction of 
 Klenze. To enter it, is like stepping into a casket of jewels. 
 The sides are formed by a double range of arches, the windows 
 being so far back as to be almost out of sight, so that the eye falls 
 on nothing but painting and gold. The lower row of arches is 
 of alternate green and purple marble, beautifully polished ; but 
 the upper, as well as the small chancel behind the high altar, is 
 entirely covered with fresco paintings on a ground of gold! The 
 richness and splendor of the whole church is absolutely incredi- 
 ble. Even after one has seen the Lud wig's Kirche and the Resi- 
 dence itself, it excites astonishment. I was surprised, however, 
 to find at this age, a painting on the wall behind the altar, repre- 
 senting the Almighty. It seems as if man's presumption has no 
 end. The simple altar of Athens, with its inscription " to the 
 Unknown God,'^ was more truly reverent than this. As I sat 
 down awhile under one of the arches, a poor woman came in, 
 carrying a heavy basket, and going to the steps which led up to 
 the altar, knelt down and prayed, spreading her arms out in the 
 form of a cross. Then, after stooping and kissing the first step, 
 she dragged herself with her knees upon it, and commenced pray- 
 ing again with outspread arms. This she continued till she had 
 climbed them all, which occupied some time ; then, as if she had 
 fulfilled a vow she turned and departed. She was undoubtedly 
 sincere in her piety, but it made me sad to look upon such delu- 
 ded superstition. 
 
 We visited yesterday morning the Glyptothek, the finest col- 
 lection of ancient sculpture except that in the British Museum, I 
 have yet seen, and perhaps elsewhere unsurpassed, north of the 
 Alps. The building which was finished by Klenze, in 1830, has 
 an Ionic portico of white marble, with a group of allegorical fig- 
 ures, representing Sculpture and the kindred arts. On each side 
 of the portico, there are three niches in the front, containing on 
 one side, Pericles, Phidias and Vulcan ; on the other, Hadrian, 
 
THE GLYPTOTHEK. 201 
 
 Prometheus and Daedalus. The whole building forms a hollow 
 square, and is lighted entirely from the inner side. There are 
 in all twelve halls, each containing the remains of a particular 
 era in the art, and arranged according to time, so that, beginning 
 with the clumsy productions of the ancient Egyptians, one passes 
 through the different stages of Grecian art, afterwards that of 
 Rome, and finally ends with the works of our own times- — the 
 almost Grecian perfection of Thorwaldsen and Canova. These 
 halls are worthy to hold such treasures, and what more could be 
 said of them ? Tlie floors are of marble mosaic, the sides of 
 green or purple scagliola, and the vaulted ceilings covered with 
 raised ornaments on a ground of gold. No two are alike in color 
 and decoration, and yet there is a unity of taste and design in the 
 whole, which renders the variety delightful. 
 
 From the Egyptian Hall, we enter one containing the oldest 
 remains of Grecian sculpture, before the artists won power to 
 mould the marble to their conceptions. Then follow the celebrated 
 Egina marbles, from the temple of Jupiter Panhellenius, on the 
 island of Egina. They formerly stood in the two porticoes, the 
 one group representing the fight for the body of Laomedon, the 
 other the struggle for the dead Patroclus. The parts wanting 
 have been admirably restored by Thorwaldsen. They form al- 
 most the only existing specimens of the Eginetan school. Passing 
 through the Apollo Hall, we enter the large hall of Bacchus, in 
 which the progress of the art is distinctly apparent. A satyr, 
 lying asleep on a goat-skin which he has thrown over a rock, is 
 believed to be the work of Praxiteles. The relaxation of the fig- 
 ure and perfect repose of every limb, is wonderful. The coun- 
 tenance has traits of individuality which led me to think it might 
 have been a portrait, perhaps of some rude country swain. 
 
 In the Hall of Niobe, which follows, is one of the most perfect 
 works that ever grew into life under a sculptor's chisel. Muti- 
 lated as it is, without head and arms, I never saw a more expres- 
 sive figure. Ilioneus, the son of Niobe, is represented as kneel- 
 ing, apparently in the moment in which Apollo raises his arrow, 
 and there is an imploring supplication in liis attitude which is 
 touching in the highest degree. His beautiful young limbs seem 
 to shrink involuntarily from the deadly shaft ; there is an expres- 
 
 10* 
 
202 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sion of prayer, almost of agony, in the position of his body. It 
 should be left untouched. No head could be added, which would 
 equal that one pictures to himself, while gazing upon it. 
 
 The Pinacothek is a magnificent building of yellow sandstone, 
 five hundred and thirty feet long, containing thirteen hundred 
 pictures, selected with great care from the whole private collec- 
 tion of the king, which amounts to nine thousand. Above the 
 cornice on the southern side, stand twenty-five colossal statues of 
 celebrated painters, by Schwanthaler. As wo approached, the 
 tall bronze door was opened by a servant in the Bavarian livery, 
 whose size harmonized so well with the giant proportions of the 
 building, that, until I stood beside him and could mark the con- 
 trast, I did not notice his enormous frame. I saw then that he 
 must be near eight feet high, and stout in proportion. He re- 
 minded me of the great "Baver of Trient," in Vienna. The 
 Pinacothek contains the most complete collection of works by 
 old German artists, anywhere to be found. There are in the hall 
 of the Spanish masters, half a dozen of Murillo's inimitable beg- 
 gar groups. It was a relief, after looking upon the distressingly 
 stiff* fio-ures of the old German school, to view these fresh, natu- 
 ral countenances. One little black-eyed boy has just cut a slice 
 out of a melon and turns with a full mouth to his companion, who 
 is busy eating a bunch of grapes. The simple, contented ex- 
 pression on the faces of the beggars is admirable. I thought I 
 detected in a beautiful child, with dark curly locks, the original 
 of his celebrated Infant St. John. I was much interested in two 
 small juvenile works of Raphael and his own portrait. The lat- 
 ter was taken most probably after he became known as a painter. 
 The calm, serious smile which we see on his portrait as a bo}^ 
 had vanished, and the thin features and sunken eye told of intense 
 mental labor. 
 
 One of the most remarkable buildings now in the course of 
 erection is the Basilica, or Church of St. Bonifacius. It repre- 
 sents another form of the Byzantine style, a kind of double edi- 
 fice, a little like a North River steamboat, with a two story cabin 
 on deck. The inside is not yet finished, although the artists 
 have been at work on it for six years, but we heard many ac- 
 counts of its splendor, which is said to exceed anything that has 
 
A MECHANIC'S STORY. 203 
 
 been yet done in Munich. We visited to-day the atelier of 
 Schwanthaler, which is always open to strangers. The sculptor 
 himself was not there, but five or six of his scholars were at work 
 in the rooms, building up clay statues after his models and work- 
 ing out bas-reliefs in frames. We saw here the original models 
 of the statues on tlie Pinacothek, and the " Wittelsbach Ances- 
 tors" in the Throne Hall of the palace. I was glad also to find 
 a miniature copy in plaster, of the Herrmannsschlacht, or combat 
 of the old German hero, Herrmann, with the Romans, from the 
 frieze of the Walhalla, at Ratisbon. It is one of Schwanthaler's 
 best works. Herrmann, as the middle figure, is represented in 
 fight with the Roman general ; behind him the warriors are rush- 
 ing on, and an old bard is striking the chords of his harp to in- 
 spire them, while women bind up the wounds of the fallen. The 
 Roman soldiers on the other side are about turning in confusion 
 to fly. It is a lofty and appropriate subject for the portico of a 
 building containing the figures of the men who have labored for 
 the glory and elevation of their Fatherland. 
 
 Our new-found friend came to visit us last evening; and learn 
 our impressions of Munich. In the course of conversation we 
 surprised him by revealing the name of our country. His coun- 
 tenance brightened up and he asked us many questions about the 
 state of society in America. In return, he told us something 
 more about himself — his story was simple, but it interested me. 
 His father was a merchant, who, having been ruined by unlucky 
 transactions, died, leaving a numerous family without the means 
 of support. His children were obliged to commence life alone 
 and unaided, which, in a country where labor is so cheap, is diffi- 
 cult and disheartening. Our friend chose the profession of a ma- 
 chinist, which, after encountering great obstacles, he succeeded 
 in learning, and now supports himself as a common laborer. But 
 his position in this respect prevents him from occupying that sta- 
 tion in society for which he is intellectually fitted. His own 
 words, uttered with a simple pathos which I can never forget, will 
 best describe how painful this must be to a sensitive spirit. " I 
 tell you thus frankly my feelings," said he, " because I know 
 you will understand me. I could not say this *o any ot my asso- 
 ciates, for they would not comprehind it, and ihey would say I 
 
204 VIEWS A-FOOi 
 
 am proud, because I cannot bring my soul down to their level. I 
 am poor and have but little to subsist upon ; but the spirit has needs 
 as well as the body, and I feel it a duty and a desire to satisfy 
 them also. When 1 am with any of my common fellow-laborers, 
 what do I gain from them ? Their leisure hours are spent in 
 drinking and idle amusement, and I cannot join them, for I have 
 no sympathy with such things. To mingle with those above me, 
 would be impossible. Therefore I am alone — I have no associate !" 
 I have gone into minute, and it may be, tiresome detail, in de- 
 scribing some of the edifices of Munich, because it seemed the 
 only way in which I could give an idea of their wonderful beauty. 
 It is true that in copying after the manner of the daguerreotype, 
 there is danger of imitating its dullness also, but I trust to the 
 glitter of gold and rich paintings, for a little brightness in the pic- 
 ture. We leave to-morrow morning, having received the sum 
 written for, which, to our surprise, will be barely sufficient to en- 
 able us to reach Heidelberg. 
 
AUGSBURG. 205 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THROUGH WTJRTEMBERG TO HEIDELBERG. 
 
 We left Munich in tlie morning train for Augsburg. Between 
 the two cities extends a vast unbroken plain, exceedingly barren 
 and monotonous. Here and there is a little scrubby woodland, 
 and sometimes we passed over a muddy stream which came down 
 from the Alps. The land is not more than half-cultivated, and 
 the villages are small and poor. We saw many of the peasants 
 at their stations, in their gay Sunday dresses ; the women wore 
 short gcwns with laced boddices, of gay colors, and little caps on 
 the top of their heads, with streamers of ribbons three feet long. 
 After two hours' ride, we saw the tall towers of Augsburg, and 
 alighted on the outside of the wall. The deep moat which sur- 
 rounds the city, is all grown over with velvet turf, the towers and 
 bastions are empty and desolate, and we passed unchallenged un- 
 der the gloomy archway. Immediately on entering the city, 
 signs of its ancient splendor are apparent. The houses are old, 
 many of them with quaint, elaborately carved ornaments, and 
 often covered with fresco paintings. These generally represent 
 some scene from the Bible history, encircled with arabesque bor- 
 ders, and pious maxims in illuminated scrolls. We went into the 
 old Raihhaus, whose golden hall still speaks of the days of Augs- 
 burg's pride. I saw in the basement a bronze eagle, \Yeighing 
 sixteen tons, with an inscription on the pedestal stating that it 
 was cast in 1806, and formerly stood on the top of an old public 
 building;, since torn down. In front of the Rathhaus is a fine 
 bronze fountain, with a number of figures of angels and tritons. 
 
 The same afternoon, we left Augsburg for Ulm. Long, low 
 ranges of hills, running from the Danube, stretched far across 
 the country, and between them lay many rich, green valleys. 
 We passed, occasionally, large villages, perhaps as old as the 
 
206 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 times of the crusaders, and looking quite pastoral and romantic 
 from the outside; but we were always glad when we had gone 
 through them and into the clean country again. The afternoon 
 of the second day we came in sight of the fertile plain of the Dan- 
 ube ; far, far to the right lay the field of Blenheim, where Marl- 
 borough and the Prince Eugene conquered the united French and 
 Bavarian forces and decided the war of the Spanish succession. 
 
 We determined to reach Ulm the same evening, although a 
 heavy storm was raging along the distant hills of Wurtemberg. 
 The dark mass of the mighty Cathedral rose in the distance 
 through the twilight, a perfect mountain in comparison with the 
 little houses clustered around its base. We reached New Ulm^ 
 finally, and passed over the heavy wooden bridge into Wurtem- 
 berg, unchallenged for passport or baggage. I thought I could 
 feel a difference in the atmosphere when I reached the other 
 side — it breathed of the freer spirit that ruled through the land. 
 The Danube is here a little muddy stream, hardly as large as 
 my native Brandywine, and a traveler who sees it at Ulm for 
 the first time would most probably be disappointed. It is not until 
 below Vienna, where it receives the Drave and Save, that it be- 
 comes a river of more than ordinary magnitude. 
 
 We entered Ulm, as I have already said. It was after nine 
 o'clock, nearly dark, and beginning to rain; we had walked 
 thirty-three miles, and being of course tired, we entered the first 
 inn we saw. But, to our consternation, it was impossible to get 
 a place — the fair had just commenced, and the inn was full to 
 the roof We must needs hunt another, and then another, and 
 yet another, with like fate at each. It grew quite dark, the rain 
 increased, and we were unacquainted with the city. I grew 
 desperate, and at last, when we had stopped at the eighth inn in 
 vain, I told the people we must have lodgings, for it was impossible 
 we should walk around in the rain all nisjlit. Some of the s^uests 
 interfering in our favor, the hostess finally sent a servant with us 
 to the first hotel in the city. I told him on the way we were 
 Americans, strangers in Ulm. and not accustomed to sleeping in 
 the streets. " Well," said he, " I will go before, and recommend 
 you to the landlord of the Golden Wheel." I knew not what 
 magic he used, but in half an hour our weary limbs were stretched 
 
SCENES IN WURTEMBERG 207 
 
 in delightful repose and we thanked Heaven more gratefully than 
 ever before, for the blessing of a good bed. 
 
 Next mornino; we ran about through the booths of the fair, and 
 gazed up from all sides at the vast Cathedral. The style is the 
 simplest and grandest Gothic ; but the tower, which, to harmon- 
 ize with the body of the church, should be 520 feet high, was 
 left unfinished at the height of 234 feet. I could not enough ad- 
 mire the grandeur of proportion in the great building. It seemed 
 singular that the little race of animals who swarmed around its 
 base, should have the power to conceive or execute such a gigan- 
 tic work. 
 
 There is an immense fortification now in progress of erection 
 behind Ulm. It leans on the side of the hill which rises from 
 the Danube, and must be nearly a mile in length. Hundreds of 
 laborers are at work, and from the appearance of the founda- 
 tions, many years will be required to finish it. The lofty moun- 
 tain-plain which we afterwards passed over, for eight or ten 
 miles, divides the waters of the Danube from the Rhine. From 
 the heights above Ulm, we bade adieu to the far, misty Alps, till 
 we shall see them ag-ain in Switzerland. Late in the afternoon, 
 we came to a lovely green valley, sunk as it were in the earth. 
 Around us, on all sides, stretched the bare, lofty plains ; but the 
 valley lay below, its steep sides covered with the richest forest. 
 At the bottom flowed the Fils. Our road led directly down the 
 side ; the glen spread out broader as we advanced, and smiling 
 villages stood beside the stream, A short distance before reach- 
 ing Esslingen, we came upon the banks of the Neckar, whom 
 we hailed as an old acquaintance, although much smaller here 
 in his mountain home than when he sweeps the walls of 
 Heidelberg. 
 
 Delightful Wurtemberg ! Shall I ever forget thy lovely green 
 vales, watered by the classic current of the Neckar, or thy lofty 
 hills covered with vineyards and waving forests, and crowned 
 \^ith heavy ruins, that tell many a tale of Barbarossa and Duke 
 Ulric and Goetz with the Iron Hand ! No — were even the Sua- 
 bian hills less beautiful — were the Suabian people less faithful 
 and kind and true, still I would love the land for the great spirits 
 it has produced ; still would the birth-place of Frederick Schil- 
 
208 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ler, of Uhland and HaufF, be sacred. I do not wonder Wurtem- 
 berg can boast such glorious poets. Its lovely landscapes seem 
 to have been made expressly for the cradle of genius ; amid no 
 other scenes could his infant mind catch a more benign inspira- 
 tion. Even the common people are deeply imbued with a poetic 
 feeling. We saw it in their ft iendly greetings and open, express- 
 ive countenances ; it is shown in their love for their beautiful 
 homes and the rapture and reverence with which they speak of 
 their country's bards. No river in the world, equal to the Necfear 
 in size, flows for its whole course through more delightful scen- 
 ery, or among kinder and happier people. 
 
 After leaving; Esslin*o;en, we followed its banks for some time, 
 at the foot of an amphitheatre of hills, covered to the very sum- 
 mit, as far as the eye could reach, with vineyards. The morning 
 was cloudy, and white mist-wreaths hung along the sides. We 
 took a road that led over the top of a range, and on arriving at 
 the summit, saw all at once the city of Stuttgard, lying beneath 
 our feet. It lay in a basin encircled by mountains, with a nar- 
 row valley opening to the south-east, and running off between 
 the hills to the Neckar. The situation of the city is one of won- 
 derful beauty, and even after seeing Salzburg, I could not but 
 be charmed with it. 
 
 We descended the mountain and entered it. I inquired imme- 
 diately for the monument of Schiller, for there was little else in 
 the city I cared to see. We had become tired of running about 
 cities, hunting this or that old church or palace, which perhaps 
 was nothing when found. Stuttgard has neither galleries, ruins, 
 nor splendid buildings, to interest the traveler; but it has Thor- 
 waldsen's statue of Schiller, calling up at the same time its shame 
 and its glory. For the poet in his youth was obliged to fly from 
 this very same city — from hom\i and friends, to escape the perse- 
 cution of the government on account of the free sentiments ex- 
 pressed in his early works. We found the statue, without much 
 difficultv. It stands in the Schloss Platz, at the southern end of 
 the city, in an unfavorable situation, surrounded by dark old 
 buildings. It should rather be placed aloft on a mountain sum- 
 mit, in the pure, free air of heaven, braving the storm and the 
 tempest. The figure is fourteen feet high and stands on a pedestal 
 
RAINY TRAVELING. 209 
 
 of bronze, with bas reliefs on the four sides. The head, crowned 
 with a laurel wreath, is inclined as if in deep thought, and all the 
 earnest soul is seen in the countenance. Thorwaldsen has copied 
 so truly the expression of poetic reverie, that I waited, half-ex- 
 pecting he would raise his head and look around him. 
 
 As we passed out the eastern gate, the workmen were busy 
 near the city, making an embankment for the new railroad to 
 Heilbroun, and we were obliged to wade through half a mile of 
 mud. Finally the road turned to the left over a mountain, and 
 we walked on in the rain, regardless of the touching entreaties 
 of an omnibus-driver, who felt a great concern for our health, 
 especially as he had two empty seats. There is a peculiarly 
 agreeable sensation in walking in a storm, when the winds sweep 
 by and the rain-drops rattle through the trees, and the dark 
 clouds roll past just above one's head. It gives a dash of sub- 
 limity to the most common scene. If the rain did not finally 
 soak through the boots, and if one did not lose every romantic 
 feeling in wet garments, I would prefer storm to sunshine, for 
 visiting some kinds of scenery. You remember, we saw the 
 North Coast of Ireland and the Giant's Causeway in stormy 
 weather, at the expense of being completely drenched, it is true ; 
 but our recollections of that wild day's journey are as vivid as 
 any event of our lives — and the name of the Giant's Causeway 
 calls up a series of pictures as terribly sublime as any we would 
 wish to behold. 
 
 The rain at last did come down a little too hard for comfort, 
 and we were quite willing to take shelter when we reached Lud- 
 wigsburg. This is here called a new city, having been laid out 
 with broad streets and spacious squares, about a century ago, 
 and is now about the size of our five-year old city of Milwaukie ! 
 It is the chief military station of Wurtemberg, and has a splendid 
 castle and gardens, belonging to the king. A few miles to the 
 eastward is the little village where Schiller was born. It is said 
 the house where his parents lived is still standing. 
 
 It was not the weather alone, which prevented our making a 
 pilgrimage to it, nor was it alone a peculiar fondness for rain 
 which induced us to persist in walking in the storm. Our feeble 
 pockets, if they could have raised an audible jingle, would have 
 
210 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 told another tale. Our scanty allowance was dwindling rapidly 
 away, in spite of a desperate system of economy. We left Ulm 
 with a florin and a half apiece — about sixty cents — to walk to 
 Heidelberg, a distance of 110 miles. It was the evening of the 
 third day, and this was almost exhausted. As soon therefore as 
 he rain slackened a little, we started again, although the roads 
 were very bad. At Betigheim, where we passed the night, the 
 people told us of a much nearer and more beautiful road, passing 
 through the Zabergau, a region famed for its fertility and pasto- 
 ral beauty. At the inn we were charged higher than usual for 
 a bed, so that we had but thirteen kreutzers to start with in the 
 morning. Our fare that day was a little bread and water ; we 
 walked steadily on, but owing to the wet roads, made only thirty 
 miles, 
 
 A more delightful region than the Zabergau I have seldom 
 passed through. The fields were full of rich, heavy grain, and 
 the trees had a luxuriance of foliage that reminded me of the vale 
 of the Jed, in Scotland. Without a single hedge or fence, stood 
 the long sweep of hills, covered with waving fields of grain, ex- 
 cept where they were steep and rocky, and the vineyard terraces 
 rose one above another. Sometimes a fine old forest grew along 
 the summit, like a mane waving back from the curved neck of a 
 steed, and white villages lay coiled in the valleys between. A 
 line of blue mountains always closed the vista, on looking down 
 one of these long valleys ; occasionally a ruined castle wuh donjon 
 tower, was seen on a mountain at tlie side, making the picture 
 complete. As we lay sometimes on the hillside and looked on 
 one of those sweet vales, we were astonished at its Arcadian beau- 
 ty. The meadows were as smooth as a mirror, and there seemed 
 to be scarcely a grass-blade out of place. The streams wound 
 through (" snaked themselves through," is the German expres- 
 sion,) with a subdued ripple, as if they feared to displace a peb- 
 ple, and the great ash trees which stood here and there, had lined 
 each of their leaves as carefully with silver and turned them as 
 gracefully to the wind, as if they were making their toilettes for 
 the gala-day of nature. 
 
 That evening broucrht us into the dominions of Baden, within 
 five hours' walk of Heidelberg-. At the humblest inn in an hum. 
 
FAMILIAT SCENES. 211 
 
 _ 
 
 ble village, we found a bed which we could barely pay for, leav- 
 ing a kreutzer or two for breakfast. Soon after starting the next 
 morning, the distant Kaiserstuhl suddenly emerged from the mist, 
 with the high tower on its summit, where nearly ten months be- 
 fore, we sat and looked at the summits of the Vosges in France, 
 with all the excitement one feels on entering a foreign land. Now, 
 the scenerv around that same Kaiserstuhl w^as nearly as familiar 
 lO us as that of our own homes. Entering the hills again, we 
 knew by the blue mountains of the Odenwald, that we were ap- 
 proaching the Neckar. At length we reached the last height. 
 The town of Neckargemiind lay before us on the steep hillside, 
 and the mountains on either side were scarred with quarries of 
 the rich red sandstone, so much used in building. The blocks 
 are hewn out, high up on the mountain side, and then sent roll- 
 ing and sliding down to the river, where they are laden in boats 
 and floated down with the current to the distant cities of the 
 Rhine. 
 
 We were rejoiced on turning around the corner of a mountain, 
 to see on the opposite side of the river, the road winding up 
 through the forests, where last fall our Heidelberg friends accom- 
 panied us, as we set out to walk to Frankfort, through the Oden- 
 wald. Many causes combined to render it a glad scene to us. 
 We were going to meet our comrade again, after a separation of 
 months ; we were bringing an eventful journey to its close ; and 
 finally, we were weak and worn out from fasting and the labor 
 of walking in the rain. A little further we saw Kloster Neu- 
 burg, formerly an old convent, and remembered how we used to 
 look at it every day from the windows of our room on the Neckar; 
 but we shouted aloud, when we saw at last the well-known 
 bridge spanning the river, and the glorious old castle lifting its 
 shattered towers from the side of the mountain above us. I al- 
 ways felt a strong attachment to this matchless ruin, and as I be- 
 held it again, with the warm sunshine falling through each broken 
 arch, the wild ivy draping its desolate chambers, it seemed to 
 smile on me like the face of a friend, and I confessed I had seen 
 many a grander scene, but ^ew that would cling to the memory 
 so familiarly. 
 
 While we were in Heidelberg, a s.udent was buried by torch- 
 
212 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 light. This is done when particular honor is shown to the memo- 
 ry of the departed brother. They assembled at dark in the Uni- 
 versity Square, each with a blazing pine torch three feet long, 
 and formed into a double line. Between the files walked at short 
 distances an officer, who, with his sword, broad lace collar, and the 
 black and white plumes in his cap, looked like a cavalier of the 
 olden time. Persons with torches walked on each side of the 
 hearse, and the band played a lament so deeply mournful, that 
 the scene, notwithstanding its singularity, was very sad and 
 touching. The thick smoke from the torches filled the air, and 
 a lurid, red light was cast over the hushed crowds in the streets 
 and streamed into the dark alleys. The Hauptstrasse was filled 
 with two lines of flame, as the procession passed down it ; when 
 they reached the extremity of the city, the hearse went on, at- 
 tended with torch-bearers, to the Cemetery, some distance further, 
 and the students turned back, running and whirling their torches 
 in mingled confusion. The music struck up a merry march, and 
 in the smoke and red glare, they looked like a company of mad 
 demons. The presence of death awed them to silence for awhile, 
 but as soon as it had left them, they turned relieved to revel again 
 and thought no more of the lesson. It gave me a painful feeling 
 to see them rushing so wildly and disorderly back. They assem- 
 bled again in the square, and tossing their torches up into the air 
 cast them blazing into a pile ; while the flame and black smoke 
 rose in a column into the air, they sang in solemn chorus, the song 
 *' Gaudeamus igitur,'^ with which they close all public assemblies. 
 1 shall neglect telling how we left Heidelberg, and walked 
 along the Bcrgstrasse again, for the sixth time ; how we passed 
 the old Melibochus and through the quiet city of Darmstadt ; how 
 we watched the blue summits of the Taunus rising higher and 
 higher over the plain, as a new land rises from the sea, and final- 
 ly, how we reached at last the old watch-tower and looked down 
 on the valley of the Main, clothed in the bloom and verdure of 
 summer, with the houses and spires of Frankfort in the middle 
 of the well-known panorama. We again took possession of our 
 old rooms, and having to wait for a remittance from America, as 
 well as a more suitable season for visiting Italy, we sat down to 
 a month's rest and study. 
 
FAREWELL TO FRANKFORT. 213 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FREIBURG AND THE BLACK FOREST. 
 
 Frankfort, July 29, 1845. — It would be ingratitude to\var<fe the 
 old city in which 1 have passed so many pleasant and profitable 
 hours, to leave it, perhaps forever, without a few words of fare- 
 well. How often will the old bridge, with its view up the Main, 
 over the houses of Oberrad to the far mountains of the Odenwald, 
 rise freshly and distinctly in memory, when I shall have been 
 long absent from them ! How often will 1 hear in fancy as I now 
 do in reality, the heavy tread of passers-by on the rough pave- 
 ment below, and the deep bell of the Cathedral, chiming the swift 
 hours, with a hollow tone that seems to warn me, rightly to em- 
 ploy them ! Even this old room, with its bare walls, little table 
 and chairs, whioh I have thought and studied in so long, that it 
 seems difficult to think and study anywhere else, will crowd out 
 of memory images of many a loftier scene. May I but preserve 
 for the future the hope and trust which have cheered and sus- 
 tained me here, through the sorrow of absence and the anxiety of 
 uncertain toil ! It is growing towards midnight and I think of 
 many a night when I sat here at this hour, answering the spirit- 
 greeting which friends sent me at sunset over the sea. All this 
 has now an end. I must begin a new wandering, and perhaps in 
 ten days more I shall have a better place for thought, among the 
 mountain-chambers of the everlasting Alps. I look forward to 
 the journey with romantic, enthusiastic anticipation, for alar in 
 the silvery distance, stand the Coliseum and St. Peter's, Vesuvius 
 and the lovely Naples. Farewell, friends who have so long given 
 us a home ! 
 
 Aug. 9. — The airy, basket-work tower of the Freiburg Minster 
 rises before me over the black roofs of the houses, and behind 
 stand the gloomy, pine-covered mountains of the Black Forest, 
 
214 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Of our walk to Heidelberg over the oft-trodden Bergstrasse, I 
 shall say nothing, nor how we climbed the Kaiserstuhl again, 
 and danced around on the top of the tower for one hour, amid 
 cloud and mist, while there was sunshine below in the valley of 
 the Neckar. I left Heidelberg yesterday morning in the stehtoa- 
 gen for Carlsruhe. The engine whistled, the train started, and 
 although 1 kept my eyes steadily fixed on the spire of the Haupt- 
 kirche, three minutes hid it, and all the rest of the city from sight. 
 Carlsruhe, the capital of Baden, which we reached in an hour 
 and #half, is unanimously pronounced by travelers to be a most 
 dull and tiresome city. From a glance 1 had through one of the 
 gates, I should think its reputation was not undeserved. Even its 
 name, in German, signifies a place of repose. 
 
 I stopped at Kork, on the branch road leading to Strasbourg, to 
 meet a German-American about to return to my home in Penn- 
 sylvania, where he had lived for some time. I inquired accord- 
 insf to the direction he had sent me to Frankfort, but he was not 
 there ; however, an old man, finding who I was, said Herr Otto 
 had directed him to go with me to Hesselhurst, a village four or 
 five miles off, where he would meet me. So we set off immedi- 
 ately over the plain, and reached the village at dusk. 
 
 At the little inn, were several of the farmers of the neighbor, 
 hood, who seemed to consider it as something extraordinary to see 
 a real, live, native-born American. They overwhelmed me with 
 questions about the state of our country, its government, etc. 
 The hostess brought me a supper of fried eggs and wurst, while 
 they gathered around the table and began a real category in the 
 dialect of the country, which is difficult to understand. I gave 
 them the best information I could about our mode of farming, the 
 different kinds of produce raised, and the prices paid to laborers; 
 one honest old man cried out, on my saying I had worked on u 
 farm, " Ah ! little brother, give me your hand !" which he shook 
 most heartily. 1 told them also something about our government, 
 and the militia system, so different from the conscription of Europe, 
 when a farmer becoming quite warm in our favor, said to the 
 others with an air of the greatest decision : " One American is 
 better than twenty Germans !" What particularly amused me, 
 was, that although I spoke German with them, they seemed to 
 
FREIBURG. 215 
 
 think I did not understand what they said annong one another, 
 and therefore commented very freely over my appearance. I 
 suppose they had the idea that we were a rude, savage race, for I 
 overheard one say : " One sees, nevertheless, that he has been 
 educated !" Their honest, unsophisticated mode of expression 
 was very interesting to me, and we talked together till a late 
 hour. 
 
 My friend arrived at three o'clock the next morning, and after 
 two or three hours' talk about home, and the friends whom he 
 expected to see so much sooner than I, a young farmer drove me 
 in his wagon to Offenburg, a small city at the foot of the Black 
 Forest, where T took the cars for Freiburs". The scenery between 
 the two places is grand. The broad mountains of the Black For- 
 est rear their fronts on the east, and the hlue lines of the French 
 Voso-es meet the clouds on the west. The nio-ht before, in walk- 
 ing over the plain, I saw distinctly the whole of the Strasbourg 
 Minster, whose spire is the highest in Europe, being four hun- 
 dred and ninety feet, or but twenty-five feet lower than the Py- 
 ramid of Cheops. 
 
 I visited the Minster of Freiburg yesterday morning. It is a 
 grand, gloomy old pile, dating from the eleventh century — one of 
 the few Gothic churches in Germany that have ever been com- 
 pleted. The tower of beautiful fretwork, rises to the height of 
 three hundred and ninety-five feet, and the body of the church 
 including the choir, is of the same length. The interior is solemn 
 and majestic. Windows stained in colors that burn, let in a "dim, 
 religious light" which accords very well with the dark old pillars 
 and antique shrines. In two of the chapels there are some fine 
 altar-pieces by Holbein and one of his scholars ; and a very 
 large crucifix of silver and ebony, which is kept with great care, 
 is said to have been carried with the Crusaders to the Holy Land. 
 'This morning was the great market-day, and the peasantry of the 
 Black Forest came down from the mountains to dispose of their 
 produce. The square around the Minster was filled with them, 
 and the singular costume of the women gave the scene quite a 
 strange appearance. Many of them wore bright red head-dresses 
 and shawls, others had high-crowned hats of yellow oil-cloth ; the 
 YOung girls wore their hair in long plaits, reaching nearly to their 
 
216 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 feet. They brought grain, butter and cheese and a great deal of 
 fine fruit to sell — I bought some of the wild, aromatic plums of 
 the country, at the rate of thirty for a cent. 
 
 The railroad has only been open to Freiburg within a few days, 
 and is consequently an object of great curiosity to the peasants, 
 many of whom never saw the like before. They throng around 
 the station at the departure of the train and watch with great inte- 
 rest the operations of getting up the steam and starting. One of 
 the scenes that grated most harshly on my feelings, was seeing 
 yesterday a company of women employed on the unfinished part 
 of the road. They were digging and shoveling away in the rain, 
 nearly up to their knees in mud and clay ! 
 
 I called at the Institute for the Blind, under the direction of Mr, 
 Miiller. He showed me some beautiful basket and woven work 
 by his pupils; the accuracy and skill with which everything was 
 made astonished me. They read with amazing facility from the 
 raised type, and by means of frames are taught to write with 
 ease and distinctness. In music, that great solace of the blind, 
 they most excelled. They sang with an expression so true and 
 touching, that it was a delight to listen. The system of instruc- 
 tion adopted appears to be most excellent, and gives to the blind 
 nearly every advantage which their more fortunate brethren 
 enjoy. 
 
 I am indebted to Mr. Miiller, to whom I was introduced by an 
 acquaintance with his friend, Dr. Rivinus, of West Chester, Pa., 
 for many kind attentions. He went with us this afternoon to the 
 Jagerhaus, on a mountain near, wl>ere we had a very fine view 
 of the city and its great black Minster, with the plain of the 
 Briesgau, broken only by the Kaiserstuhl, a long mountain near 
 the Rhine, whose golden stream glittered in the distance. On 
 climbing the Schlossberg, an eminence near the city, we met the 
 Grand Duchess Stephanie, a natural daughter of Napoleon, as I 
 have heard, and now generally believed to be the mother of Cas- 
 par Hauser. Through a work lately published, which has since 
 been suppressed, the whole history has come to light. Caspar 
 Hauser was the lineal descendant of the house of Baden, and heir 
 to the throne. The guilt of his imprisonment and murder rests, 
 therefore, upon the present reigning family. 
 
THE STUDENTS. 217 
 
 A chapel on the Schonberg, the mountain opposite, was pointed 
 out as the spot where Louis XV. , if I mistake not, usually stood 
 while his army besieged Freiburg. A German officer having 
 sent a ball to this chapel which struck the wall just above the 
 king's head, the latter sent word that if they did not cease firing 
 he would point his cannons at the Minster. The citizens thought 
 it best to spare the monarch and save the cathedral. 
 
 We attended a meeting of the Walhalla, or society of the stu- 
 dents who visit the Freiburg University. They pleased me better 
 than the enthusiastic but somewhat unrestrained Burschenschaft 
 of Heidelberg. Here, they have abolished duelling; the greatest 
 friendship prevails among the students, and they have not that 
 contempt for every thing phihster, or unconnected with their 
 studies, which prevails in other universities. Many respectable 
 citizens attend their meetings ; to-night there was a member of 
 the Chamber of Deputies at Carlsruhe present, who delivered two 
 speeches, in which every third word was " freedom !" An ad- 
 dress was delivered also by a merchant of the city, in which he 
 made a play upon the word spear, which signifies also in a cant 
 sense, citizen, and seemed to indicate that both would do their 
 work in the good cause. He was loudly applauded. Their song 
 of union was by Charles FoUen, and the students were much 
 pleased when I told them how he was honored and esteemed in 
 America. 
 
 After two days, delightfully spent, we shouldered our knap- 
 sacks and left Freiburg. The beautiful valley, at the mouth of 
 which the city lies, runs like an avenue for seven miles directly 
 into the mountains, and presents in its loveliness such a contrast 
 to the horrid defile which follows, that it almost deserves the 
 name which has been given to a little inn at its head — the " King- 
 dom of Heaven." The mountains of the Black Forest enclose 
 it on each side like walls, covered to the summit with luxuriant 
 woods, and in some places with those forests of gloomy pine which 
 give this region its name. After traversing its whole length, just 
 before plunging into the mountain-depths, the traveler rarely 
 meets with a finer picture than that which, on looking back, he 
 sees framed between the hills at the other end. Freiburg looks 
 around the foot of one of the heights, with the spire of her cathe- 
 
 11 
 
IS VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 dral peeping above the top, while the French Vosges grew dim in 
 the far perspective. 
 
 The road now enters a wild, narrow valley, which grows 
 smaller as we proceed. From Himmelreich, a large rude inn by 
 the side of the green meadows, we enter the Hollenthal — that is, 
 from the " Kingdom of Heaven" to the '' Valley of Hell !" The 
 latter place better deserves its appellation than the former. The 
 road winds between precipices of black rock, above which the 
 thick foliage shuts out the brightness of day and gives a sombre 
 hue to the scene. A torrent foams down the chasm, and in one 
 place two miglity pillars interpose to prevent all passage. The 
 stream, however, has worn its way through, and the road is hewn 
 in the rock by its side. This cleft is the only entrance to a val- 
 ley three or four miles long, which lies in the very heart of the 
 mountains. It is inhabited by a few woodmen and their families, 
 and but for the road which passes through, would be as perfect a 
 solitude as the Happy Valley of Rasselas. At the farther end, 
 a winding road called " The Ascent," leads up the steep moun- 
 tain to an elevated region of country, thinly settled and covered 
 with herds of cattle. The cherries which, in the Rhine-plain be- 
 low, had long gone, were just ripe here. The people spoke a 
 most barbarous dialect ; they were social and friendly, for every- 
 body greeted us, and sometimes, as we sat on a bank by the road- 
 side, those who passed by would say " Rest thee !" or " Thrice 
 /est !" 
 
 Passing by the Titi Lake, a small body of water which was 
 spread out among the hills like a sheet of ink, so deep was its 
 Stygian hue, we commenced ascending a mountain. The high- 
 est peak of the Schwarzwald, the Feldbsrg, rose not far off, and 
 on arriving at the top of this mountain, we saw that a half hour's 
 walk would bring us to its summit. This was too great a temp- 
 tation for my love of climbing heights ; so with a look at the de- 
 scending sun to calculate how much time we could spare, we set 
 out. There was no path, but we pressed directly up the steep 
 side, through bushes and long grass, and in a sliort time reached 
 the top, breathless from such exertion in the thin atmosphere. 
 The pine woods shut out the view to the north and east, which 
 is said to be magnificent, as the mountain is about five thousand 
 
THE BLACK FOREST. 219 
 
 feet high. The wild, black peaks of the Black Forest were 
 spread below us, and the sun sank through golden mist towards 
 the Alsatian hills. Afar to the south, through cloud and storm, 
 we could just trace the white outline of the Swiss Alps. The 
 wind swept through the pines around, and bent the long yellow 
 grass among which we sat, with a strange, mournful sound, well 
 suiting the gloomy and mysterious region. It soon grew cold, 
 (he golden clouds settled down towards us, and we made haste to 
 descend to the village of Lenzkirch before dark. 
 
 Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see the trial 
 of archery which was to take place among the mountain youths. 
 Their booths and targets, gay with banners, stood on a green 
 meadow beside the town. We walked through the Black Forest 
 the whole forenoon. It might be owing to the many wild stories 
 whose scenes are laid among these hills, but with me there was 
 a peculiar feeling of solemnity pervading the whole region. The 
 great pine woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and down 
 their hoary, moss-floored aisles, daylight seems never to have 
 shone. The air was pure and clear, and the sunshine bright, 
 but it imparted no gaiety to the scenery : except the little mea- 
 dows of living emerald which lay occasionally in the lap of a 
 dell, the landscape wore a solemn and serious air. In a storm, 
 it must be sublime. 
 
 About noon, from the top of the last range of hills, we had a 
 glorious view. The line of the distant Alps could be faintly 
 traced hiij;h in the clouds, and all the heiijhts between were 
 plainly visible, from the Lake of Constance to the misty Jura, 
 which flanked the Vosges of the west. From our lofty station 
 we overlooked half Switzerland, and had the air been a little 
 clearer, we could have seen Mont Blanc and the mountains of 
 Savoy. I could not help envying the feelings of the Swiss, Vv'ho, 
 after long absence from their native land, first see the Alps from 
 this road. If to the emotions with which I then looked on them 
 were added the passionate love of home and country which a 
 long absence creates, such excess of rapture would be almost too 
 great to be borne. 
 
 In the afternoon we crossed the border, and took leave of Ger 
 many with regret, after near a year's residence within 
 
420 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 bounds. Still it was pleasant to know we were in a republic 
 once more : the fifst step we took made us aware of the change. 
 There was no policeman to call for our passports or search our 
 baggage. It was just dark when we reached the hiU overlook- 
 ing the Rhine, on whose steep banks is perched the antique town 
 of Schaffhausen. It is still walled in, with towers at regular in- 
 tervals ; the streets are wide and spacious, and the houses ren- 
 dered extremely picturesque by the quaint projecting windows. 
 ■The buildings are nearly all old, as we learned by the dates 
 above the doors. At the inn, 1 met with one of the free troopers 
 who marched against Luzerne. He was full of spirit, and ready 
 to undertake another such journey. Indeed it is the universal 
 opinion that the present condition of things cannot last much 
 longer. 
 
 We took a walk before breakfast to the Falls of the Rhine, 
 about a mile and a half from Schaffhausen. I confess I was 
 somewhat disappointed in them, after the glowing descriptions of 
 travelers. The river at this place is little more than thirty 
 yards wide, and the body of water, although issuing from the 
 Lake of Constance, is not remarkably strong. For some distance 
 above, the fall of the water is very rapid, and as it finally reaches 
 the spot where, narrowed between rocks, it makes the grand 
 plunge, it has acquired a great velocity. Three rocks stand in 
 the middle of the current, which thunders against and around 
 their bases, but cannot shake them down. These and the rocks 
 in the bed of the stream, break the force of the fall, so that it de- 
 scends to the bottom, about fifty feet below, not in one sheet, but 
 shivered into a hundred leaps of snowy foam. The precipitous 
 shores, and the tasteful little castle which is perched upon the 
 steep just over the boiling spray, add much to its beauty, taken 
 as a picture. As a specimen of the picturesque, the whole scene 
 is perfect. 1 should think Trenton Falls, in New York, must 
 excel these in wild, startling effect ; but there is such a scarcity 
 of waterfalls in this land, that the Germans go into raptures about 
 them, and will hardly believe that Niagara itself possesses more 
 sublimity. 
 
SWITZERLAND. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PEOPLE AT^D PLACES IN EASTERN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 We left Schaffhausen for Zurich, in mist and rain, and 
 walked for some time along the north bank of the Rhine. We 
 could have enjoyed the scenery much better, had it not been for 
 the rain, which not only hid the mountains from sight, but kept 
 us constantly half soaked. We crossed the rapid Rhine at Egli- 
 sau, a curious antique village, and then continued our way 
 througii the forests of Canton Zurich, to Biilach, with its groves 
 of lindens — " those tall and stately trees, with velvet down upon 
 their shining leaves, and rustic benches placed beneath their over- 
 hanginij eaves." 
 
 When we left the little village where the rain obliged us to 
 stop for the night, it was clear and delightful. The farmers were 
 out, busy at work, their long, straight scythes glancing through 
 the wet grass, while the thick pines sparkled with thousands of 
 6ewj diamonds. The country was so beautiful and cheerful, 
 that we half felt like being in America. The farm-houses were 
 scattered over the country in real American style, and the glori- 
 ous valley of the Limmat, bordered on the west by a range of 
 woody hills, reminded me of some scenes in my native Penn- 
 sylvania. The houses were neatly and tastefully built, with lit- 
 tle gardens around them — and the countenances of the people 
 spoke of intelligence and independence. There was the same air 
 of peace and prosperity which delighted us in the valleys of Upper 
 Austria, with a look of freedom which those had not. The faces 
 of a people are the best index to their condition. I could read on 
 their brows a lofty self-respect, a consciousness of the liberties 
 they enjoy, which the Germans of the laboring class never show. 
 Tt could not be imagination, for the recent occurrences in Swit- 
 zerland, with the many statements I heard in Germany, had pre- 
 
VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 judiced me somewhat against the land; and these marks of pros- 
 perity and freedom were as surprising as they were delightful. 
 
 As we approached Zurich, the noise of employment from mills, 
 furnaces and factories, came to us like familiar sounds, remind- 
 ing us of the bustle of our home cities. The situation of the citv 
 is lovely. It lies at the head of the lake, and on both sides of the 
 little river Limmat, whose clear green waters carry the collected 
 meltings of the Alps to the Rhine. Around the lake rise lofty 
 green hills, which, sloping gently back, bear on their sides hun- 
 dreds of pleasant country-houses and farms, and the snowy Al- 
 pine range extends along the southern sky. The Limmat is 
 spanned by a number of bridges, and its swift waters turn many 
 mills which are built above them. From these bridges one can 
 look out over the blue lake and down the thronged streets of the 
 city on each side, whose bright, cheerful houses remind him of 
 Italy. 
 
 Zurich can boast of finer promenades than any other city in 
 Switzerland. The old battlements are planted with trees and 
 transformed into pleasant walks, which being elevated above the 
 city, command views of its beautiful environs. A favorite place 
 if resort is the Lindenhof, an elevated court-yard, shaded by im- 
 mense trees. The fountains of water under them are always 
 surrounded by washerwomen, and in the morning groups of merry 
 school children may be seen tumbling over the grass. The 
 teachers take them there in a body for exercise and recreation. 
 The Swiss children are beautiful, bright-eyed creatures; there 
 is scarcely one who does not exhibit the dawning of an active, 
 energetic spirit. It may be partly attributed to the fresh, healthy 
 climate of Switzerland, but I am partial enough to republics to 
 believe that the influence of the Government under which they 
 live, has also its share in producing the elfect. 
 
 There is a handsome promenade on an elevated bastion which 
 overlooks the city and lakes. While enjoying the cool morning 
 breeze and listening to the stir of the streets below us, we were 
 also made aware of the social and friendly politeness of the peo- 
 ple. Those who passed by, on their walk around the rampart, 
 greeted us, almost with the familiarity of an acquaintance. Sim- 
 ple as was the act, we felt grateful, for it had ai least the seem 
 
SWISS CHILDREN. 223 
 
 «ng of a friendly interest and a sympathy with the loneliness 
 ••vhich the stranger sometimes feels. A school-teacher leading 
 her troop of merry children on their morning walk around the 
 bastion, nodded to us pleasantly and forthwith the whole company 
 of chubby-cheeked rogues, looking up at us with a pleasant arch- 
 ness, lisped a '■' guten morgen^' that made the hearts glad within 
 us. I know of nothing that has given me a more sweet and ten- 
 der delight than the greeting of a little child, who, leaving his 
 noisy playmates, ran across the street to me, and taking my hand, 
 which he could barely clasp in both his soft little ones, looked up 
 in my face with an expression so winning and affectionate, that I 
 loved him at once. The happy, honest farmers, too, spoke to us 
 cheerfully everywhere. We learned a lesson from all this — we 
 felt that not a word of kindness is ever wasted, that a simple 
 friendly glance may cheer the spirit and warm the lonely heart, 
 and that the slightest deed, prompted by generous sympathy, be- 
 comes a living joy in the memory of the receiver, which blesses 
 unceasingly him who bestowed it. 
 
 We left Zurich the same afternoon, to walk to Stafa, where we 
 were told the poet Freiligrath resided. The road led along the 
 bank of the lake, v/hose shores sloped gently up from the water, 
 covered with gardens and farm-houses, which, with the bolder 
 mountains that rose behind them, made a combination of the lovely 
 and grand, on which the eye rested with rapture and delight. 
 The sweetest cottafres were embowered amoniii; the orchards, and 
 the whole country bloomed like a garden. The waters of the 
 lake are of a pale, transparent green, and so clear that we could 
 see its bottom of white pebbles, for some distance. Here and 
 there floated a quiet boat on its surface. The opposite hills were 
 covered with a soft blue haze, and white villages sat along the 
 shore, " like swans among the reeds." Behind, we saw tho 
 woody range of the Brunig Alp. The people bade us a pleasan 
 good evening ; there was a universal air of cheerfulness and con 
 tent on their countenances. 
 
 Towards evening, the clouds which hung in the south the whole 
 day, dispersed a little and we could see the Dodiberg and the 
 Alps of Glarus. As sunset drew on, the broad summits of snow 
 and the clouds which weffe rolled around them, assumed a soft 
 
224 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 rosy hue, which increased in brilliancy as the light of clay faded. 
 The rough, icy crags and snowy steeps were fused in the warm 
 light and half blended with the bright clouds. This blaze, as it 
 were, of the mountains at sunset, is called the Alp-gloiv, and ex- 
 ceeds all one's highest conceptions of Alpine grandeur. We 
 watched the fading glory till it quite died away, and the summits 
 wore a livid, ashy hue, like the mountains of a world wherein 
 there was no life. In a few minutes more the dusk of twilight 
 spread over the scene, the boatmen glided home over the still lake 
 and the herdsmen drove their cattle back from pasture on the 
 slopes and meadows. 
 
 On inquiring for Freiligrath at Stafa, we found he had removed 
 to Rapperschwyl, some distance further. As it was already late, 
 we waited for the steamboat which leaves Zurich every evening. 
 It came along about eight o'clock, and a little boat carried us out 
 through rain and darkness to meet it, as it came like a fiery-eyed 
 monster over the water. We stepped on board the " Republican," 
 and in half an hour were brought to the wharf at Rapperschwyl. 
 
 There are two small islands in the lake, one of which, with a 
 little chapel rising from among its green trees, is Ufnau, the 
 grave of Ulrich von Hutten, one of the fathers of the German 
 Reformation. His fiery poems have been the source from which 
 many a German bard has derived his inspiration, and Freiligrath 
 who now lives in sight of his tomb, has published an indignant 
 poem, because an inn with gaming tables has been established in 
 tho ruins of the castle near Creuznach, where Hutten found 
 r^tucre from his enemies with Franz von Sickincjen, brother-in-law 
 i/ " Goetz with the Iron Hand." The monks of Einsiedeln, to 
 whom Ufnau belongs, have carefully obliterated all traces of his 
 giave, so that the exact spot is not known, in order that even a, 
 tombstone might be denied him who once strove to overturn their 
 order. It matters little to that bold spirit whose motto was: 
 " The die is cast — / have dared it .'" — the whole island is his 
 monument, if he need one. 
 
 I spent the whole of the morning with Freiligrath, the poet, 
 who was lately banished from Germany on account of the liberal 
 principles his last volume contains. He lives in a pleasant coun- 
 trv-house on the Meyerberg an eminence near Rapperschwvl' 
 
THE POET FREILIGRATH. 225 
 
 overlooking a glorious prospect. On leaving Frankfort, R. S. 
 Willis gave me a letter to hinn, and I was glad to meet with a 
 man personally whom I admired so much through his writings, 
 and whose boldness in speaking out against the tyranny which 
 his country suffers, forrns such a noble contrast to the cautious 
 slowness of his countrymen. He received me kindly and con- 
 versed much upon American literature. He is a warm admirer 
 of Bryant and Longfellow, and has translated many of their 
 poems into German. He said he had received a warm invitation 
 from a colony of Germans in Wisconsin, to join them and enjoy 
 that freedom which his native land denies, but that his circum- 
 stances would not allow it at present. He is perhaps thirty-five 
 years of age. His brow is high and noble, and his eyes, which 
 are large and of a clear gray, beam with serious, saddened thought. 
 His long chesnut hair, uniting with a handsome beard and mous- 
 tache, gives a lion-like dignity to his energetic countenance. 
 His talented wife, Ida Freiligrath, w^ho shares his literary labors, 
 and an amiable sister, are with him in exile, and he is happier in 
 their faithfulness than when he enjoyed the favors of a corrupt 
 king. 
 
 We crossed the long bridge from Rapper,schwyl, and took the 
 road over the mountain opposite, ascending for nearly tuo hours 
 along the side, with glorious views of the Lake of Zurich and 
 the mountains which enclose it. The upper and lower ends of 
 the lake were completely hid by the storms, which, to our regret, 
 veiled the Alps, but the part below lay spread out dim and grand, 
 like a vast picture. It rained almost constantly, and we were 
 obliged occasionally to talve shelter in the pine forests, whenever 
 a heavier cloud passed over. The road was lined with beggars, 
 who dropped on their knees in the rain before us, or placed bars 
 across the way, and then took them down again, for which they 
 demanded money. 
 
 At length we reached the top of the pass. Many pilgrims to 
 Einsiedeln had stopped at a little inn there, some of whom 
 came a long distance to pay their vows, especially as the next day 
 was the Ascension day of the Virgin, whose image there is noted 
 for performing many miracles. Passing on, we crossed a wilci 
 torrent by an arch called the " Devil's Bridge." The lofty, ele* 
 
 11* 
 
226 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 vated plains were covei'ed with scanty patches of grain and pota- 
 toes, and the boys tended their goats on the grassy slopes, some- 
 times trilling or yoilling an Alpine melody. An hour's walk 
 brought us to Einsiedeln, a small town, whose only attraction is 
 the Abbey — after Loretto, in Italy, the most celebrated resort for 
 pilgrims in Europe. 
 
 We entered immediately into the great church. The gorgeous 
 vaulted roof and long aisles were dim with the early evening; 
 hundreds of worshippers sat around the sides, or kneeled in 
 groups on the broad stone pavements, chanting over their Pater- 
 nosters and Ave Marias in a shrill, monotonous tone, while the 
 holy image near the entrance was surrounded by persons, many 
 of whom came in the hope of being healed of some disorder under 
 which they suffered. I could not distinctly make out the image, 
 for it was placed back within the grating, and a strong crimson 
 lamn behind it was made to throw the light around, in the form 
 of a glory. Many of the pilgrims came a long distance. I saw 
 some in the costume of the Black Forest, and others who appeared 
 to be natives of the Italian Cantons ; and a group of young wo- 
 men wearing conical fur caps, from the forests of Bregenz, on 
 the Lake of Constance. 
 
 I was astonished at the splendor of this church, situated in a 
 lonely and unproductive Alpine valley. The lofty arches of the 
 ceiling, which are covered with superb fresco paintings, rest on 
 enormous pillars of granite, and every image and shrine is richly 
 ornamented with gold. Some of the chapels were filled with the 
 remains of martyrs, and these were always surrounded with 
 throngs of believers. The choir was closed by a tall iron grating ; 
 a single lamp, which swung from the roof, enabled me to see 
 through the darkness, that though much more rich in ornaments 
 than the body of the church, it w^as less grand and impressive. 
 The frescoes which cover the ceiling, are said to be the finest 
 paintings of the kind in Switzerland. 
 
 In the morning our starting was delayed by the rain, and we 
 took advantage of it to hear mass in the Abbey and enjoy the 
 heavenly music. The latter was of the loftiest kind ; there was 
 one voice among the singers I shall not soon forget. It was like 
 the warble of a bird who sings out of very wantonness. On and 
 
ALPINE SCENERY. 227 
 
 on it sounded, making its clear, radiant sweetness heard above 
 the chant of the choir and the thunder of the orchestra. Such a 
 rich, varied and untiring strain of melody I have rarely listened to. 
 
 When the service ceased, we took a small road leading to 
 Schwytz. We had now fairly entered the Alpine region, and 
 our first task was to cross a mountain. This having been done, 
 we kept along the back of the ridge which bounds the lake of 
 Zug on the south, terminating in the well known Rossberg. The 
 scenery became wilder with every step The luxuriant fields of 
 herbage on the mountains were spotted with the picturesque cha- 
 lets of the hunters and Alp-herds ; cattle and goats were brows- 
 ing along the declivities, their bells tinkling most musically, and 
 the little streams fell in foam down the steeps. We here began 
 to realize our anticipations of Swiss scenery. Just on the other 
 side of the range, along which v/e traveled, lay the little lake of 
 Egeri and valley of Morgarten, where Tell and his followers 
 overcame the army of the German Emperor ; near the lake of 
 Lowertz, we found a chapel by the roadside, built on the spot 
 where the house of Werner StaufFacher, one of the "three men 
 of Grutli," formerly stood. It bears a poetical inscription in old 
 German, and a rude painting of the Battle of Morgarten. 
 
 As we wound around the lake of Lowertz, we saw the valley 
 lyino- between the Rossberg and the Righi, which latter mountain 
 stood full in view. To our regret, and that of all other travelers, 
 the clouds hung low upon it, as they had done for a week at least, 
 and there was no prospect of a change. The Rossberg, from 
 which we descended, is about four thousand feet in height ; a 
 dark brown stripe from its very summit to the valley below, shows 
 the track of the avalanche which, in 1806, overwhelmed Goldau, 
 and laid waste the beautiful vale of Lowertz. We could trace 
 the masses of rock and earth as far as the foot of the Righi. 
 Four hundred and fifty persons perished by this catastrophe, 
 which was so sudden that in five minutes the whole lovely valley 
 was transformed into a desolate wilderness. The shock was so 
 great that the lake of Lowertz overflowed its banks, and part of 
 the village of Steinen at the upper end was destroyed by the 
 
 waters. 
 
 An hour's, walk through a blooming Alpine vale brought us to 
 
228 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the little town of Schwytz, the capital of the Canton. It stands 
 at the foot of a rock-mountain, in shape not unlike Gibraltar, but 
 double its height. The bare and rugged summits seem to hang 
 directly over the town, but the people dwell below without fear, 
 although the warning ruins of Goldau are full in sight. A nar- 
 row blue line at the end of the valley which stretches westward, 
 maiks the lake of the Four Cantons. Down this valley we hur- 
 ried, that we miglit not miss the boat which plies daily, from Lu 
 zerne to Fluelen. I regretted not being able to visit Luzerne, 
 I had a letter to the distinguished Swiss composer, Schnyder von 
 Wartensee, who resides there at present. The place is said to 
 present a most desolate appearance, being avoided by travelers, 
 and even by artisans, so that business of all kinds has almost en- 
 tirely ceased. 
 
 At the little town of Brunnen, on the lake, we awaited the 
 coming of the steamboat. The scenery around it is exceedingly 
 grand. Looking down towards Luzerne, we could see the dark 
 mass of Mount Pilatuson one side, and on the other the graceful 
 outline of the Righi, still wearing his hood of clouds. We put 
 off in a skiff to meet the boat, with two Capuchin friars in long 
 brown mantles and cowls, carrying ro«aries at their girdles. 
 
 Nearly opposite Brunnen is the meadow of Griitli, where the 
 union of the Swiss patriots took place, and the bond was sealed 
 that enabled them to cast off their chains. It is a little green 
 slope on the side of the mountain, between the two Cantons of 
 Uri and Unterwalden, surrounded on all sides by precipices. A 
 little crystal spring in the centre is believed by the common peo- 
 ple to have gushed up on the spot where the three " linked the 
 hands that made them free." It is also a popular belief that they 
 slumber in a rocky cavern near the spot, and that they will arise 
 and come forth when the liberties of Swhzerland are in danger. 
 She stands at present greatly in need of a new triad to restore the 
 ancient harmony. 
 
 We passed this glorious scene, almost the only green spot on 
 the bleak mountain-side, and swept around the base of the Axen- 
 berg, at whose foot, in a rocky cave, stands the chapel of William 
 Tell. This is built on the spot where he leaped from Gessler'a 
 
THE FOOTSTEPS OF TELL. 229 
 
 boat during tlie storm. It sits at the base of the rock, on the 
 water's edge, and can be seen far over the waves. The x\lps, 
 'vhose eternal snows are lifted dazzling to the sky, complete the 
 .grandeur of a scene so hallowed by the footsteps of freedom. 
 The grand and lonely solemnity of the landscape impressed me 
 <vith an awe. like that one feels when standing in a miglity cathe- 
 dral, when the aisles are dim with twilight. And how full of in- 
 terest to a citizen of young and free America is a shrine where 
 the votaries of Liberty have turned to gather strength and cour- 
 age, through the storms and convulsions of five hundred years ! 
 
 We stopped at the village of Fluelen, at the head of the lake, 
 and walked on to Altorf, a distance of half a league. Here, in 
 the market-place, is a tower said to be built on the spot where 
 the linden tree stood, under which the child of Tell was placed, 
 while, about a hundred yards distant, is a fountain with Tell's 
 statue, on the spot from whence he shot the apple. If these 
 localities are correct, he must indeed have been master of the 
 cross-bow. The tower is covered with rude paintings of the 
 principal events in the history of Swiss liberty. I viewed these 
 scenes with double interest from having read Schiller's " Wilhelm 
 Tell," one of the most splendid tragedies ever written. The 
 beautiful reply of his boy, when he described to him the condition 
 of the "land where there are no mountains," was sounding in 
 my ears during the whole day's journey : 
 
 " Father, I'd feel oppressed in that broad land, 
 I'd rather dwell beneath the avalanche !" 
 
 The little village of Burglen, whose spire we saw above tin. 
 forest, in a glen near by, was the birth-place of Tell, and t' 
 place where his dwelling stood, is now marked by a small chapr 
 In the Schachen, a noisy mountain stream that comes down v 
 join the Reuss, he was drowned, when an old man, in attc.nptini^ 
 to rescue a child who had fallen in — a death worthy of the hero! 
 We bestowed a blessing on his memory in passing, and then fol 
 lowed the banks of the rapid Reuss. Twilight was gathering in 
 the deep Alpine glen, and the mountains on each side, half-seen 
 through the mist, looked like vast, awful phantoms. Soon they 
 
230 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 darkened to black, indistinct masses ; all was silent except the 
 deepened roar of the falling floods; dark clouds brooded above 
 us like the outspread wings of night, and we were glad, when the 
 little village of Amstegg was reached, and the parlor of the inn 
 opened to us a more cheerful, if not so romantic scene. 
 
THE HIGH ALPS. 23. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 PASSAGE OF THE ST. GOTHARD AND DESCENT INTO ITALY. 
 
 Leaving Amstegg, I passed the whole day among snowy, sky- 
 piercing Alps, torrents, chasms and clouds! The clouds ap- 
 peared to be breaking up as we set out, and the white top of the 
 Reussberg was now and then visible in the sky. Just above the 
 village are the remains of Zwing Uri, the castle begun by the 
 tyrant Gessler, for the complete subjugation of the canton. Fol- 
 lowing the Reuss up through a narrow valley, we passed the 
 Bristenstock, which lifts its jagged crags nine thousand feet in 
 the air, while on the other side stand the snowy summits which 
 lean towards the Rhone Glacier and St. Gothard. From the 
 deep glen where the Reuss foamed down towards the Lake of the 
 Forest Cantons, the mountains rose with a majestic sweep so 
 far into the sky that the brain grew almost dizzy in following 
 their outlines. Woods, chalets and slopes of herbage covered 
 their bases, where the mountain cattle and goats were browsing, 
 while the herd-boys sang their native melodies or woke the ring- 
 ing echoes with the loud, sweet sounds of their wooden horns ; 
 higher up, the sides were broken into crags and covered with 
 stunted pines; then succeeded a belt of bare rock with a little 
 snow lying in the crevices, and the summits of dazzling white 
 looked out from the clouds nearly three-fourths the height of the 
 zenith. Sometimes when the vale was filled with clouds, it was 
 startling to see them parting around a solitary summit, apparent- 
 ly isolated in the air at an immense height, for the mountain to 
 which it belonged was hidden to the very base ! 
 
 The road passed from one side of the valley to the other, cross- 
 ing the Reuss on bridges sometimes ninety feet high. After three 
 or four hours walking, we reached a frightful pass called the 
 Schollenen. So narrow is the defile that before reaching it, the 
 
232 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 road seemed to enter directly into the mountain. Precipices a 
 thousand feet high tower above, and the stream roars and boils in 
 the black depth below. The road is a wonder of art ; it winds 
 around the edge of horrible chasms or is carried on lofty arches 
 across, with sometimes a hold apparently so frail that one invo- 
 luntarily shudders. At a place called the Devil's Bridge, the 
 Reuss leaps about seventy feet in three or four cascades, sending 
 up continually a cloud of spray, while a wind created by the fall, 
 blows and whirls around, with a force that nearly lifts one from 
 his feet. Wordsworth has described the scene in the follow- 
 ing lines : 
 
 " Plunge with the Reuss embrowned by terror's breath, 
 Where danger roofs the narrow walks of Death ; 
 By floods that, thundering from their dizzy height, 
 Swell more gigantic on the steadfast sight, 
 Black, drizzling crags, that, beaten by the din, 
 Vibrate, as if a voice complained within, 
 Loose hanging rocks, the Day's blessed eye that hide, 
 And crosses reared to Death on every side!" 
 
 Beyond the Devil's Bridge, the mountains which nearly touch- 
 ed before, interlock into each other, and a tunnel three hundred 
 and seventy-five feet long leads through the rock into the vale 
 of Urseren, surrounded by the Upper Alps. The little town o'' 
 Andermatt lies in the middle of this valley, which with the peak 
 around is covered with short, yellowish-brown grass. We mt 
 near Amstegg a little Italian boy walking home, from Germany, 
 quite alone and without money, for we saw him give his last 
 kreutzer to a blind beggar along the road. We therefore took 
 him with us, as he was afraid to cross the St. Gothard alone. 
 
 After refreshing ourselves at Andermatt, we started, five in 
 number, including a German student, for the St. Gothard. Behind 
 the village of Hospiz, which stands at the bottom of the valley 
 leading to Realp and the Furca pass, the way commences, wind- 
 ing backwards and forwards, higher and higher, through a valley 
 covered with rocks, with the mighty summits of the Alps around, 
 untenanted save by the chamois and mountain eagle. Not a tree 
 was to be seen. The sides of the mountains were covered with 
 loose rocks waiting f(?^ the next torrei:: o wash them down, and 
 
ST. GOTHARD. 233 
 
 the tops were robed in eternal snow. A thick cloud rolled down 
 over us as we went on, following the diminishing brooks to their 
 •snowy source in the peak of St. Gothard. We cut off the bends 
 of the road by footpaths up the rocks, which we ascended in sin- 
 gle filn, one of the Americans going ahead and little Pietro with 
 his staff and bundle bringing up the rear. The rarefied air wo 
 breathed, seven thousand feet above the sea, was like exhilarating 
 gas. We felt no fatigue, but ran and shouted and threw snow- 
 balls, in the middle of August ! 
 
 After three hours' walk we reached the two clear and silent 
 lakes which send their waters to the Adilatic and the North Sea. 
 Here, as we looked down the Italian side, the sky became clear; 
 we saw the top of St. Golhard many thousand feet above, ana 
 stretching to the south, the summits of the mountains which guard 
 the vales of the Ticino and the Adda. The former monastery 
 has been turned into an inn; there is, however, a kind of church 
 attached, attended by a single monk. It was so cold that although 
 late, we determined to descend to the first village. The Italian 
 side is very steep, and the road, called the Via Trimola, is like 
 a thread dropped down and constantly doubling back upon itself. 
 The deep chasms were filled with snow, although exposed to the 
 full force of the sun, and for a long distance there was scarcely 
 a sign of vegetation. , 
 
 We thought as we went down, that every step was bringing 
 us nearer to a sunnier land — that the glories of Italy, which had 
 so long lain in the airy background of the future, would soon 
 spread themselves before us in their real or imagined beauty. 
 Reaching at dusk the last height above the vale of the Ticino, we 
 saw the little village of Airolo with its musical name, lying in a 
 hollow of the mountains. A few minutes of leaping, sliding and 
 rolling, took us down the grassy declivity, &nd we found we had 
 tlescended from the top in an hour and a half, although the dis- 
 tance by the road is nine miles I I need not say how glad we 
 were to relieve our trembling knees and exhausted limbs. 
 
 I have endeavored several times to give some idea of the sub- 
 limity of the Alps, but words seem almost powerless to measure 
 these mighty mountains. No effort of the imagination could pos- 
 sibly equal their real grandeur. I wish also to describe the feeh 
 
234 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ings inspired by being among them, — feelings which can best oe 
 expressed through the warmer medium of poetry. 
 
 SCNG OF THE ALP. 
 I. 
 
 I sit alofl on my thunder tlirone, 
 
 And my voice of dread the nations own 
 
 As I speak in storm below ! 
 The valleys quake with a breathless fear, 
 When I hurl in wrath my icy spear 
 
 And shake ray locks of snow ! 
 When the avalanche forth like a tiger leaps, 
 
 How the vassal -mountains quiver ! 
 And the storm that sweeps through the airy deeps 
 
 Makes the hoary pine-wood shiver ! 
 Above them all, in a brighter air, 
 I lift my forehead proud and bare, 
 And the lengthened sweep of my forest-robe 
 Trails down to the low and captured globe, 
 Till its borders touch the dark green wave 
 In whose soundless depths my feet I lave. 
 The winds, unprisoned, around me blow, 
 And terrible tempests whirl the snow ; 
 Rocks from their caverued beds are torn, 
 And the blasted forest to heaven is borne j 
 High through' the din of the stormy band, 
 Like misty giants the mountains stand, 
 And their thunder-revel o'er-sounds the woe, 
 That cries from the desolate vales below ! 
 I part the clouds with my lifted crown, 
 Till the sun-ray slants on the glaciers down, 
 And trembling men. in the valleys pale. 
 Rejoice at the gleam of my icy mail ! 
 
 II. 
 
 I wear a crown of the sunbeam's gold, 
 With glacier-gems on my forehead old — 
 
 A monarch crowned by God ! 
 What son of the servile earth may dare 
 Such signs of a regal power to wear, 
 
 While chained to her darkened sod? 
 I know of a nobler and grander lore 
 Than Time records on his crumbling pages. 
 
SONG OF THE ALP. 235 
 
 And the soul of my solitude teaches more 
 
 Than the gathered deeds of perished ages ! 
 For I have ruled since Time began 
 And wear no fetter made by man. 
 I scorn the ccward and craven race 
 Who dwell around my mighty base, 
 For they leave the lessons I grandly gave 
 And bend to the yoke of the crouching slave. 
 I shout aloud to the chainless skies ; 
 The stream through its falling foam replies. 
 And my voice, like the sound of the surging sea, 
 To the nations thunders : " I am free .'" 
 I spoke to Tell wlien a tyrant's hand 
 Lay heavy and hard on his native land, 
 And the spirit whose glory from mine he won 
 Blessed the Alpine dwellers with Freedom's sun I 
 The student-boy on the Gmunden-plain 
 Heard my solemn voice, but he fought in vain ; 
 { called from the crags of the Passeir-glen, 
 When the despot stood in my realm again, 
 And Hofer sprang at the proud command 
 And roused the men of the Tyrol land ! 
 
 in. 
 
 I struggle up to the dim blue heaven, 
 
 From the world, far down in whose breast are driven 
 
 The props of my pillared throne ; 
 And the rosy fires of morning glow 
 Like a glorious thought, on my brow of snow. 
 
 While the vales are dark and lone ! 
 Ere twilight summons the first faint star. 
 I seem to the nations who dwell afar 
 Like a shadowy cloud, whose every fold 
 The sunset dyes with its purest gold, 
 And the soul mounts up through that gateway fair 
 To try its wino?fe in a loftier air ! 
 The finger of God on my brow is pressed — 
 His spirit beats in my giant breast, 
 And I breathe, as the endless ages roll, 
 His silent words to the eager soul I 
 I prompt the thoughts of the mighty mind, 
 Who leaves his century far behind 
 And speaks from the Future's sun-lit snow 
 To the Present^ that sleeps in its gloom belcw ! 
 
236 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 I stand, unchanged, in creation's youth — 
 A glorious type of Eternal Truth, 
 That, free and pure, from its native skies 
 Shines through Oppression's veil of lies, 
 And lights the world's long-fettered sod 
 With thoughts of Freedom and of God ! 
 
 'e' 
 
 When, at night, I looked out of my chamber- window, the silver 
 moon of Italy, (for we fancied that her light was softer and that 
 the skies were already bluer) hung trembling above the fields of 
 snow that stretched in their wintry brilliance along the moun- 
 tains around. I heard the roar of the Ticino and the deepened 
 sound of falling cascades, and thought, if I were to take those 
 waters for my guide, to what glorious places they would lead me ! 
 
 We left Airolo early the next morning, to continue our journey 
 down the valley of the Ticino. The mists and clouds of Swit- 
 zerland were exchanged for a sky of the purest blue, and we felt, 
 for the first time in ten days, uncomfortably warm. The moun- 
 tains which flank the Alps on this side, are still giants — lofty and 
 bare, and covered with snow in many places. The limit of the. 
 German dialect is on the summit of St. Gothard, and the peasants 
 saluted us with a " buon giorno,^^ as they passed. This, with the 
 clearness of the skies and the warmth of the air, made us feel 
 that Italy was growing nearer. 
 
 The mountains are covered with forests of dark pine, and many 
 beautiful cascades come tumbling over the rocks in their, haste to 
 join the Ticino. One of these was so strangely beautiful, that I 
 cannot pass it without a particular description. We saw it soon 
 after leaving Airolo, on the opposite side of the valley. A stream 
 of considerable size comes down the mountain, leaping from crag 
 to crag till within forty or fifty feet of the bottom, where it is 
 caught in a hollow rock, and flung upwards into the air, forming 
 a beautiful arch as it falls out into the valley. As it is whirled 
 up thus, feathery curls of spray are constantly driven off and 
 seem to wave round it like the fibres on an ostrich plume. The 
 sun shining through, gave it a sparry brilliance which was per- 
 fectly magnificent. If I were an artist, I would give much for 
 such a new form of beauty. 
 
 On our first day's journey we passed through two terrific 
 
DESCENT OF THE TICINO. 237 
 
 mountain gorges, almost equalling in grandeur the defile of the 
 " Devil's Bridge." The Ticino, in its course to Lago Maggiore 
 has to make a descent of nearly three tiiousand feet, passing 
 through three valleys, which lie like terraces, one below the 
 other. In its course from one to the other, it has to force its way 
 down in twenty cataracts through a cleft in the mountains. The 
 road, constructed with the utmost labor, threads these dark chasms, 
 sometimes carriea in a tunnel through the rock, sometimes pass- 
 ing on arches above the boiling flood. The precipices of bare 
 rock rise far above and render the way difficult and dangerous. 
 1 here noticed another very beautiful effect of the water, perhaps 
 attributable to some mineral substance it contained. The spray 
 and foam thrown up in the dashing of the vexed current, was of 
 a light, delicate pink, although the stream itself was a soft blue ; 
 and the contrast of these two colors was very remarkable. 
 
 As we kept on, however, there was a very perceptible change 
 in the scenery. The gloomy pines disappeared and the moun- 
 tains were covered, in their stead, with picturesque chesnut trees, 
 with leaves of a shining green. The grass and vegetation was 
 much more luxuriant than on the other side of the Alps, and fields 
 of maize and mulberry orchards covered the valley. We saw the 
 people busy at work reeling silk in the villages. Every mile we 
 advanced made a sensible change in the ves^etation. The ches- 
 nuts were larger, the maize higher, the few straggling grape-j'ines 
 increased into bovvers and vineyards, while the gardens were 
 filled with plum, pear and fig-trees, and the stands of delicious fruit 
 which we saw in the villages, gave us promise of the luxuriance 
 that was to come. 
 
 The vineyards are much more beautiful than the German fields 
 of stakes. The vines are not trimmed, but grow from year to 
 year over a frame higher than the head, supported through the 
 whole field on stone pillars. They interlace and form a complete 
 leafv screen, while the clusters hansr below. The light came 
 dimly through the green, transparent leaves, and nothing was 
 wanting to make them real bovvers of Arcadia. Although we 
 were still in Switzerland, the people began to have that lazy, indo- 
 lent 'ook which characterizes the Italians ; most of the occupa- 
 tions were carried on in the open air, and brown-robed, sandalled 
 
238 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 friars were going about from house to house, collecting money 
 and provisions for their support. 
 
 We passed Faido and Giornico, near which last village are the 
 remains of an old castle, supposed to have been built by the an- 
 cient Gauls, and stopped for the night at Cresciano, which being 
 entirely Italian, we had an opportunity t-o put in practice the few 
 words we had picked up from Pietro. The little fellow parted 
 from us with regret a few hours before, at Biasco, where he had 
 relations. The rustic landlord at Cresciano was an honest young 
 fellow, who tried to serve us as well as he could, but we made 
 some ludicrous mistakes through our ignorance of the language. 
 
 Three hours' walk brought us to Bellinzona, the capital of thf» 
 canton. Before reaching it, our road joined that of the Spliigen 
 which comes down through the valley of Bernardino. From the 
 bridge where the junction takes place we had a triple view, whose 
 grandeur took me by surprise, even after coming from Switzer- 
 land. We stood at the union of three valleys — that leading to 
 St. Gothard, terminated by the glaciers of the Bernese Oberland, 
 tliat running off obliquely to the Spliigen, and finally the broad 
 vale of the Ticino, extending to Lago Maggiore, whose purple 
 mountains closed the vista. Each valley was perhaps two miles 
 broad and from twenty to thirty long, and the mountains that en- 
 closed them from five to seven thousand feet in height, so you 
 may perhaps form some idea what a view down three such ave- 
 nue? in this Alpine temple would be. Bellinzona is romantically 
 situated, on a slight eminence, with three castles to defend it, v.ith 
 tho!^e square turreted towers and battlements, which remind one 
 involuntarily of the days of the Goths and Vandals. 
 
 We left Bellinzona at noon, and saw, soon after, from an emi- 
 nence, the blue line of Lao;o MaQ-o-iore stretched across the bottom 
 of the valley. We saw sunset fade away over the lake, but it 
 was clouded, and did not realize my ideal of such a scene in Italy. 
 A band of wild Italians paraded up and down the village, draw- 
 ing o«e of their number in a hand-cart. They made a great 
 noise with a drum and trumpet, and were received everywhere 
 with shouts of laughter. A great jug of wine was not wanting, 
 and the whole seemed to me a very charasteristic scene. 
 
 We were ear^/ awakened at Magadino, at the head of Lago 
 
AN ITALIAN LAKE. 239 
 
 Maggiore, and after swallowing a hasty breakfast, went on board 
 the steamboat " San Carlo," for Sesto Calende. We got under 
 way at six o'clock, and were soon in motion over the crystal mir- 
 ror. The water is of the most lovely green hue, and so transpa- 
 rent that we seemed to be floating in mid-air. Another heaven 
 arched far below us ; other chains of mountains joined their bases 
 to those which surrounded the lake, and the mirrored cascades 
 leaped upward to meet their originals at the surface. It may be 
 because I have seen it more recently, that the water of Lago 
 Maggiore appears to be the most beautiful in the world. I was 
 delighted with the Scotch lakes, and enraptured with the Traun- 
 see and "Zurich's waters," but this last exceeds them both. I 
 am now incapable of any stronger feeling, until I see the Egean 
 from the Grecian Isles. 
 
 The morning was cloudy, and the wjiite wreaths hung low on 
 the mountains, whose rocky sides were covered every where with 
 the rank and luxuriant growth of this climate. As we advanced 
 further over this glorious mirror, the houses became more Italian- 
 like ; the lower stories rested on arched passages, and the win- 
 dows were open, without glass, while in the gardens stood the 
 solemn, graceful cypress, and vines, heavy with ripening grapes, 
 hung from bough to bough through the mulberry orchards. 
 Half-way down, in a broad bay, which receives the waters of a 
 stream that comes down with the Simplon, are the celebrated 
 Borromean Islands. They are four in number, and seem to float 
 like fairy creations on the water, while the lofty hills form a 
 background whose grandeur enhances by contrast their exquisite 
 beauty. There was something in the scene that reminded me of 
 Claude Melnotte's description of his home, by Bulwer, and like 
 the lady of Lyons, 1 answer readily, " I like the picture." 
 
 On passing by Isola Mad re, we could see the roses in its ter- 
 raced gardens and the broad-leaved aloes clinging to the rocks. 
 Isola Bella, the loveliest of them all, as its name denotes, was far- 
 ther off; it rose like a pyramid from the water, terrace above ter- 
 race to the summit, and its gardens of never fading foliao-e, with 
 the glorious panorama around, might make it a paradise, if life 
 were to be dreamed away. On the northern side of the bay lies a 
 large town (I forget its name,) with a lofty Romanesque tower, 
 
240 lEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and noble mountains sweep around as if to shut out the world 
 from such a scene. The sea was perfectly, calm, and groves and 
 gardens slept mirrored in the dark green wave, while the Alps 
 rose afar through the dim, cloudy air. Towards the other end 
 the hills sink lower, and slope off into the plains of Lombardy. 
 Near Arena, on the western side, is a large monastery, overlook- 
 ing the lower part of the lake. Beside it, on a hill, is a colossal 
 statue of San Carlo Borromeo, who gave his name to the lovely 
 islands above. 
 
 After a seven hours' passage, we ran into Sesto Calende, at the 
 foot of the lake. Here, passengers and baggage were tumbled 
 promiscuously on shore, the latter gathered into the office to be 
 examined, and the former left at liberty to ramble about an hour 
 until their passports could be signed. We employed the time in 
 trying the flavor of the* grapes and peaches of Lombardy, and 
 looking at the groups of travelers who had come down from the 
 Alps with the annual avalanche at this season. The custom 
 house officers were extremely civil and obliging, as they did not 
 think necessary to examine our knapsacks, and our passports be- 
 ing soon signed, we were at liberty to enter again into the do- 
 minions of His Majesty of Austria. Our companion, the German, 
 whose feet could carry him no further, took a seat on the top of 
 a diligence for Milan ; we left Sesto Calende on foot, and plunged 
 into the cloud of dust which was whirling towards the capital of 
 Northern Italy. 
 
 Being now really in the " sunny land," we looked on the 
 scenery with a deep mterest. The first thing that struck me 
 was a resemblance to America in the fields of Indian corn, and 
 the rank growth of weeds by the roadside. The mulberry trees 
 and hedges, too, looked quite familiar, coming as we did, from 
 fenceless and hedgeless Germany. But here the resemblance 
 ceased. The people were coarse, ignorant and savage-looking, 
 the villages remarkable for nothing except the contrast between 
 splendid churches and miserable, dirty houses, while the luxuri- 
 ous palaces and grounds of the rich noblemen formed a still 
 greater contrast to the poverty of the people. I noticed also that 
 if the latter are as lazy as they are said to be, they make their 
 horses work for them, as in a walk ol i few hours yesterday after 
 
A CHEATING LANDLORD. 241 
 
 noon, we saw two horses drawing heavy loads, drop down appa- 
 rently dead, and several others seemed nearly ready to do the 
 same. 
 
 We spent the night at the little village of Casina, about sixteen 
 miles from Milan, and here made our first experience in the hon- 
 esty of Italian inns. We had taken the precaution to inquire be- 
 forehand the price of a bed ; but it seemed unnecessary and un- 
 pleasant, as well as evincing a mistrustful spirit, to do the same 
 with every article we asked for, so we concluded to leave it to the 
 host's conscience not to overcharge us. Imagine our astonish- 
 ment, however, when at starting, a bill was presented to us, in 
 which the smallest articles were set down at three or four times 
 their value. We remonstrated, but to little purpose ; the fellow 
 knew scarcely any French, and we as little Italian, so rather than 
 lose time or temper, we paid what he demanded and went on, 
 leaving him to laugh at the successful imposition. The experi- 
 ence was of value to us, however, and it may serve as a warning 
 to some future traveler. 
 
 About noon, the road turned into a broad and beautiful ave- 
 nue of poplars, down which we saw, at a distance, the triumphal 
 arch terminating the Simplon road, which we had followed from 
 Sesto Calende. Beyond it rose the slight and airy pinnacle of 
 the Duomo. We passed by the exquisite structure, gave up our 
 passports at the gates, traversed the broad Piazza d'Armi, and 
 found ourselves at liberty to choose one of the dozen streets that 
 led into the heart of the city. 
 
 12 
 
vio /lEV/S A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MILAN. 
 
 Aug. 21.— While finding our way at random to the " Pension 
 Suisse," whither we had been directed by a German gentleman, 
 we were agreeably impressed with the gaiety and bustle of Milan. 
 The shops and stores are all open to the street, so that the city 
 resembles a great bazaar. It has an odd look to see blacksmiths, 
 tailors and shoemakers working unconcernedly in the open air, 
 with crowds continually passing before them. The streets are 
 filled with venders of fruit, who call out the names with a long, 
 distressing cry, like that of a person in great agony. Organ- 
 grinders parade constantly about and snatches of songs are heard 
 among the gay crowd, on every side. 
 
 In this lively, noisy Italian city, nearly all there is to see may 
 be comprised in four things : the Duomo, the triumphal arch over 
 the Simplon, La Scala and the Picture Gallery. The first alone 
 is more interesting than many an entire city. We went there 
 yesterday afternoon soon after reaching here. It stands in an 
 irregular open place, closely hemmed in by houses on two sides, 
 so that it can be seen to advantage from only one point. It is a 
 mixture of the Gothic and Romanesque styles ; the body of the 
 structure is entirely covered with statues and richly wrought 
 sculpture, with needle-like spires of white marble rising up from 
 every corner. But of the exquisite, airy look of the whole mass, 
 although so solid and vast, it is impossible to convey an idea. It 
 appears like some fabric of frost-work which winter traces on 
 the window-panes. There is a unity of beauty about the whole, 
 which the eye takes in with a feeling of perfect and satisfied de- 
 light. 
 
 Ascending the marble steps which lead to the front, I lifled the 
 folds of the heavy curtain and entered. What a glorious aisle ! 
 
THE DUOMO OF MILAN. 243 
 
 The mighty pillars support a magnificent arched ceiling, painted 
 to resemble fretwork, and the little light that falls through the 
 small windows above, enters tinged with a dim golden hue. A 
 feeling of solemn awe comes over one as he steps with a hushed 
 tread along the colored marble floor, and measures the massivs 
 columns till they blend with the gorgeous arches above. There 
 are four rows of these, nearly fifty in all, and when I state thai 
 they are eight feet in diameter, and sixty or seventy in height, 
 some idea may be formed of the grandeur of the building. Ima- 
 gine the Girard College, at Philadelphia, turned into one great 
 hall, with four rows of pillars, equal in size to those around it, 
 reaching to its roof, and you will have a rough sketch of the in- 
 terior of the Duomo. 
 
 In the centre of the cross is a light and beautiful dome ; he 
 who will stand under this, and look down the broad middle aisle 
 to the entrance, has one of the sublimest vistas to be found in the 
 world. The choir has three enormous windows, covered with 
 dazzling paintings, and the ceiling is of marble and silver. There 
 are gratings under the high altar, by looking into which, I could 
 see a dark, lonely chamber below, where one or two feeble lamps 
 showed a circle of praying-places. It was probably a funeral 
 vault, which persons visited to pray for the reposeof their friends' 
 souls. The Duomo is not yet entirely finished, the workmen be- 
 ing still employed in various parts, but it is said, that when com- 
 pleted there will be four thousand statues on the different parts 
 of it. 
 
 The design of the Duomo is said tu. be taken from Monte Rosa, 
 one of the loftiest peaks of the Alps. Its hundreds of sculptured 
 pinnacles, rising from every part of the body of the church, cer- 
 tainly bear a striking resemblance to the splintered ice-crags of 
 Savoy. Thus we see how Art, mighty and endless in her forms 
 thoush she be, is in everv thinnj but the child of Nature. Her 
 most divine conceptions are but copies of objects which we behold 
 every day. The faultless beauty of the Corinthian capital — the 
 springing and intermingling arches of the Gothic aisle — the pil- 
 lared portico or the massive and sky-piercing pyramid — are but 
 attempts at reproducing, by the studied regularity of Art, the 
 ever-varied and ever-beautiful forms of mountain, rock and forest. 
 
244 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 But there is oftentimes a more thrilling sensation of enjoyment 
 produced by the creations of man's hand and intellect than the 
 grander effects of Nature, existing constantly before our eyes. 
 It would seem as if man marvelled more at his own work than at 
 the work of the Power which created him. 
 
 The streets ot Milan abound with priests in their cocked hats 
 and long black robes. They all have the same solemn air, and 
 seem to go about like beings shut out from all communion with 
 pleasure. No sight lately has saddened me so much as to see a 
 bright, beautiful boy^ of twelve or thirteen years, in those gloomy 
 garments. Poor child ! he little knows now what he may have 
 to endure. A lonely, cheerless life, where every affection must 
 be crushed as unholy, and every pleasure denied as a crime ! 
 And I knew by his fair brow and tender lip, that he had a warm 
 and loving heart. I could not help regarding this class as victims 
 to a mistaken idea of religious duty, and if I am not mistaken, I 
 read on more than one countenance the traces of passions that 
 burned within. It is mournful to see a people oppressed in the 
 name of religion. The holiest aspirations of man's nature, in- 
 stead of lifting him up to a nearer view of Christian perfection, 
 are changed into clouds and shut out the lio;ht of heaven. Im- 
 mense treasures, wrung drop by drop from the credulity of the 
 poor and ignorant, are made use of to pamper the luxury of those 
 who profess to be mediators between man and the Deity. The 
 poor wretch may perish of starvation on a floor of precious mosaic, 
 which perhaps his own pittance has helped to form, while ceilings 
 and shrines of inlaid gold mock his dying eye with their useless 
 splendor. Such a system of oppression, disguised under the ho- 
 liest name, can only be sustained by the continuance of ignorance 
 and blind superstition. Knowledge — Truth — Reason — these are 
 the ramparts which Liberty throws up to guard her dominions from 
 the usurpations of oppression and wrong. 
 
 We were last night in La Scala. Rossini's opera of William 
 Tell was advertised, and as we had visited so lately the scene 
 where that glorious historical drama was enacted, we went to see 
 it represented in sound. It is a grand subject, which in the hands of 
 a powerful composer, might be made very effective, but I must 
 confess I was disappointed in the present case. The overture is, 
 
MUSIC IN MILAN. 245 
 
 however, very beautiful. It begins low and mournful, like the 
 lament 'of the Swiss over their fallen liberties. Occasionally a 
 low drum is heard, as if to rouse them to action, and meanwhile 
 the lament swells to a cry of despair. The drums now wake the 
 land ; the horn of Uri is heard pealing forth its summoning strain, 
 and the echoes seem to come back from the distant Alps. The 
 sound then changes for the roar of battle — the clang of trumpets, 
 drums and cymbals. The whole orchestra did their best to repre- 
 sent this combat in music, which after lasting a short time, changed 
 into the loud, victorious march of the conquerors. But the body 
 of the opera, although it had several tine passages, was to me de- 
 void of interest ; in fact, unworthy the reputation of Rossini. 
 
 The theatre is perhaps the largest in the world. The singers 
 are all good ; in Italy it could not be otherwise, where everybody 
 siniTs. As I write, a party of Italians in the house opposite } ave 
 been amusing themselves with going through the whole opera of 
 " Lafille du Regiment,^' with the accompaniment of the piano, 
 and they show the greatest readiness and correctness in their per- 
 formance. They have now become somewhat boisterous, and ap- 
 pear to be improvising. One young gentleman executes trills with 
 amazing skill, and another appears to have taken the part of a 
 despairing lover, but the lady has a very pretty voice, and war- 
 bles on and on, like a nightingale. Occasionally a group of lis- 
 teners in the street below clap them applause, for as the windows 
 are always open, the whole neighborhood can enjoy the per- 
 formance. 
 
 This forenoon I was in the Picture Gallery. It occupies a part 
 of the Library Building, in the Palazzo Cabrera. It is not large, 
 and many of the pictures areof no value to anybody but antiqua- 
 rians ; still there are some excellent paintings, which render it 
 well worthy a visit. Among these, a marriage, by Raphael, is 
 still in a very good state of preservation, and there are some fine 
 pictures by Paul Veronese and the Caracci. The most admired 
 pairing, is " Abraham sending away Hagar," by Guercino. I 
 never saw a more touching expression of grief than in the face 
 of Hagar. Her eyes are red with weeping, and as she listens in 
 an agony of tears to the patriarch's command, she still seems 
 doubting the reality of her doom. The countenance of Abra 
 
246 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ham is venerable and calm, and expresses little emotion ; but one 
 can read in that of Sarah, as she turns away, a feeling of pity 
 for her unfortunate rival. 
 
 Next to the Duomo, tbe most beautiful specimen of architecture 
 in Milan is the Arch of Peace, on the north side of the city, at 
 the commencement of the Simplon Road. It was the intention 
 of Napoleon to carry the road under this arch, across the Piazza 
 d' Armi, and to cut a way for it directly into the heart of the city, 
 but the fall of his dynasty prevented the execution of this mag- 
 nificent design, as well as the completion of the arch itself. This 
 has been done by the Austrian government, according to the 
 original plan ; they have inscribed upon it the name of Francis 
 1., and changed the bas-reliefs of Lodi and Marengo into those of 
 a few fields where their forces had gained the victory. It is even 
 said that in many parts which were already fiinished, they altered 
 the splendid Roman profile of Napoleon into the haggard and re- 
 pulsive features of Francis of Austria. 
 
 The bronze statues on the top w^ere made by an artist of Bo- 
 logna, by Napoleon's order, and are said to be the finest works of 
 modern times. In the centre is the goddess of Peace, in a tri- 
 umphal car, drawn by six horses, while on the corners four angels, 
 mounted, are starting off to convey the tidings to the four quar- 
 ters of the globe. The artist has caught the spirit of motion and 
 chained it in these moveless figures. One would hardlv feel sur- 
 prised if the goddess, chariot, horses and all, were to start offand 
 roll away through the air. 
 
 With the rapidity usual to Americans we have already finished 
 seeing Milan, and shall start to-morrow morning on a walk to 
 Genoa. 
 
WALKING IN LOMBARDY. 247 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 WALK FROM. MILAN TO GENOA. 
 
 It was finally decided we should leave Milan, so the next 
 morning we arose at five o'clock for the first time since leaving 
 Frankfort. The Italians had commenced operations at this early 
 hour, bat we made our way through the streets without attract- 
 ing quite so much attention as on our arrival. Near the gate on 
 the road to Pavia, we passed a long colonnade which was cer- 
 tainly as old as the times of the Romans. The pillars of marble 
 were quite brown with age, and bound together with iron to keep 
 them from falling to pieces. It was a striking contrast to see 
 this relic of the past standing in the middle of a crowded thorough- 
 fare and surrounded by ail the brilliance and display of modern 
 trade. 
 
 Once fairly out of the city we took the road to Pavia, along 
 tlie banks of the canal, just as the rising sun gilded the marble 
 spire of the Duomo. The country was a perfect level, and the 
 canal, which was in many places higher than the land through 
 which it passed, served also as a means of irrigation for the many 
 rice-fields. The sky grew cloudy and dark, and before we 
 reached Pavia gathered to a heavy storm. Torrents of rain 
 poured down, accompanied with heavy thunder; we crept under 
 an old gateway for shelter, as no house was near. Finally, as it 
 cleared away, the square brown towers of the old city rose above 
 the trees, and we entered the gate through a fine shaded avenue. 
 Our passports were of course demanded, but we were only de- 
 tained a minute or two. The only thing of interest is the Uni- 
 versity, formerly so celebrated ; it -has at present about eight 
 hundred students. 
 
 We have reason to remember the city from another circum- 
 stance — the singular aitention we excited. I doubt if Columbus 
 
248 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 was an object of greater curiosity to the simple natives of the 
 new world, than we. three Americans were to the good people of 
 Pavia. I know not what part of our dress or appearance could 
 have caused it, but we were watched like wild animals. If we 
 happened to pause and look at anything in the street, there was 
 soon a crowd of attentive observers, and as we passed on, every 
 door and window was full of heads. We stopped in the market- 
 place to purchase some bread and fruit for dinner, which in- 
 creased, if possible, the sensation. We saw eyes staring and 
 fingers pointing at us from every door and alley. I am generally 
 willing to contribute as much as possible to the amusement or en- 
 tertainment of others, but such attention was absolutely embar- 
 rassing. There was nothing to do but to appear unconscious of 
 it, and we went along with as much nonchalance as if the whole 
 town belonged to us. 
 
 We crossed the Ticino, on whose banks near Pavia, was fought 
 the first great battle between Hannibal and the Romans. On the 
 other side our passports were demanded at the Sardinian frontier 
 and our knapsacks searched, which having proved satisfactory, 
 we were allowed to enter the kingdom. Late in the afternoon 
 we reached the Po, which in winter must be quarter of a mile 
 wide, but the summer heats had dried it up to a small stream, so 
 that the bridge of boats rested nearly its whole length in sand. 
 We sat on the bank in the shade, and looked at the chain of 
 hills which rose in the south, following the course of the Po, 
 crowned with castles and villages and shining towers. It was 
 here that I first began to realize Italian scenery. Although the 
 hills were bare, they lay so warm and glowing in the sunshine, 
 and the deep blue sky spread so calmly above, that it recalled all 
 my dreams of the fair clime we had entered. 
 
 We stopped for the night at the little village of Casteggio, 
 which lies at the foot of the hills, and next morning resumed ouv 
 pilgrimage. Here a new delight awaited us. The sky was of 
 a heavenly blue, without even the shadow of a cloud, and full 
 and fair in the morning sunshine we could see the whole range 
 of the Alps, from the blue hills of Friuli, which sweep down to 
 Venice and the Adriatic, to the lofty peaks which stretch away 
 to Nice and Marseilles ! Like a summer cloud, except that they 
 
THE PLAINS OF PIEDMONT. 249 
 
 were far more dazzling and glorious, lay to the north of us the 
 glaciers and untrodden snow-fields of the Bernese Oberland ; a 
 little to the right we saw the double peak of St. Gothard, where 
 six days before we shivered in the region of eternal winter, while 
 far to the north-west rose the giant dome of Mount Blanc. Monte 
 Rosa stood near him, not far from the Great St. Bernard, and 
 further to the south Mont Cenis guarded the entrance from Pied- 
 mont into France. I leave you to conceive the majesty of such 
 a scene, and you may perhaps imagine, for I cannot describe the 
 feelings with which I gazed upon it. 
 
 At Tortona, the next post, a great market was being held ; the 
 town was filled with country people selling their produce, and 
 with venders of wares of all kinds. Fruit was very abundant — 
 grapes, ripe figs, peaches and melons were abundant, and for a 
 trifle one could purchase a sumptuous banquet. On inquiring 
 the road to Novi, the people made us understand, after much dif- 
 ficulty, that there was a nearer way across the country, which 
 came into the post-road again, and we concluded to take it. Af- 
 ter two or three hours' walking in a burning sun, where our only 
 relief was the sight of the Alps and a view of the battle-field of 
 Marengo, which lay just on our right, we came to a stand — the 
 road terminated at a large stream, where workmen were busily 
 engaged in making a bridge across. We pulled off our boots and 
 waded through, took a refreshing bath in the clear waters, and 
 walked on through by-lanes. The sides were lined with luxu- 
 riant vines, bending under the ripening vintage, and we often 
 cooled our thirst with some of the rich bunches. 
 
 The large branch of the Po we crossed, came down from the 
 mountains, which we were approaching. As we reached the 
 post-road again, they were glowing in the last rays of the sun, 
 and the evening vapors that settled over the plain concealed the 
 distant Alps, although the snowy top of the Jungfrau and her 
 companions the Wetterhorn and Schreckhorn, rose above it like 
 the hills of another world. A castle or church of brilliant white 
 marble glittered on the summit of one of the mountains near us, 
 and as the sun went down without a cloud, the distant summits 
 changed in hue to a glowing purple, amounting almost to crim- 
 son, which afterwards darkened into a deep violet. The western 
 
 12* 
 
^50 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 half of the sky was of a pale orange, and the eastern a dark red, 
 which blended together in the blue of the zenith, that deepened as 
 twilight came on. I know not if it was a fiair specimen of an 
 Italian sunset, but I must say, ^^ithout wishing to be partial, that 
 thouo-h certainly very soft and beautiful, there is no comparison 
 with the splendor of such a scene in America. The day-sky of 
 Italy better deserves its reputation. Although no clearer than 
 our own, it is of a far brighter blue, arching above us like a dome 
 of sapphire and seeming to sparkle all over with a kind of crystal 
 transparency. 
 
 We stopped the second night at Arquato, a little village among 
 the mountains, and after having bargained with the merry land- 
 lord for our lodgings, in broken Italian, took a last look at the 
 plains of Piedmont and the Swiss Alps, in the growing twilight. 
 We gazed out on the darkening scene till the sky was studded 
 with stars, and went to rest with the exciting thought of seeing 
 Genoa and the Mediterranean on the morrow. Next mornmg 
 we started early, and after walking some distance made our 
 breakfast in a grove of chesnuts, on the cool mountain side, be- 
 side a fresh stream of water. The sky shone like a polished gem, 
 and the glossy leaves of the chesnuts gleamed in the morning sun. 
 Here and there, on a rocky height, stood the remains of some 
 knightly castle, telling of the Goths and Normans who descended 
 through these mountain passes to plunder Rome. 
 
 As the sun grew high, the heat and dust became intolerable, 
 and this, in connection with the attention we raised everywhere, 
 made us somewhat tired of foot-traveling in Italy. I verily be- 
 lieve the people took us for pilgrims on account of our long white 
 blouses, and had 1 a scallop shell I would certainly have stuck it 
 into my hat to complete the appearance. We stopped once to ask 
 a priest the road ; when he had told us, he shook iiands with us 
 and gave us a parting benediction. At the common inns, where 
 we stopped, we always met with civil treatment, though, indeed, 
 as we only slept in them, there was little chance of practising im- 
 position. We bought our simple meals at the baker's and gro- 
 cer's, and ate them in the shade of the grape-bowers, whose rich 
 clusters added to the repast. In this manner, we enjoyed Italy 
 at the expense of a franc, daily. About noon, after winding 
 
[FIRST SIGHT OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 251 
 
 about through the narrow defiles, the road began ascending. The 
 reflected heat from the hills on each side made it like an oven ; 
 there was not a breath of air stirrinir • but we all felt, althoush 
 no one said it, that from the summit we could see the Mediterra- 
 nean, and we pushed on as if life or death depended on it. Finally, 
 the highest point came in sight — we redoubled our exertions, and 
 a k\v minutes more brought us to the top, breathless with fatigue 
 and expectation. I glanced down the other side — there lay a real 
 sea of mountains, all around ; the farthest peaks rose up afar and 
 dim, crowned with white towers, and between two of them which 
 stood apart like the pillars of a gateway, we saw the broad ex- 
 panse of water stretching away to the horizon — 
 
 " To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves shut down !" 
 
 It would have been a thrilling sight to see any ocean, when one 
 has rambled thousands of miles among the mountains and vales 
 of the inland, but to behold this sea, of all others, was glorious 
 indeed ! This sea, whose waves wash the feet of Naples, Con- 
 stantinople and Alexandria, and break on the hoary shores where 
 Troy and Tyre and Carthage have mouldered away ! — whose 
 breast has been furrowed by the keels of a hundred nations 
 through more than fortv centuries — from the first rude voyage of 
 Jason and his Argonauts, to the thunders of Navarino that her- 
 alded the second birth of Greece ! You cannot wonder we grew 
 romantic ; but short space was left for sentiment in the burning 
 sun, with Genoa to be reached before night. The mountain we 
 crossed is called the Bochetta, one of the loftiest of the sea- Alps 
 (or Apennines)— the road winds steeply down towards the sea, 
 following a broad mountain rivulet, now perfectly dried up, as 
 nearly every stream among the mountains is. It was a long way 
 to us; the mountains seemed as if they would never unfold and 
 let us out on the shore, and our weary limbs did penance enough 
 for a multitude of sins. The dusk was beginning to deepen over 
 the bay and the purple hues of sunset were dying away from its 
 amphitheatre of hills, as we came in sight of the gorgeous city. 
 Half the population were out to celebrate a festival, and we made 
 our entry in the triumphal procession of some paint. 
 
262 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 SCENES IN GENOA, LEGHORN AND PISA. 
 
 Have you ever seen some grand painting of a city, rising with 
 its domes and towers and palaces from the edge of a glorious bay, 
 shut in by mountains — ^the whole scene clad in those deep, deli- 
 cious, sunny hues whicli you admire so much in the picture, 
 although they appear unrealized in Nature ? If so, you can 
 figure to yourself Genoa, as she looked to us at sunset, from the 
 battlements west of the city. When we had passed through the 
 gloomy gate of the fortress that guards the western promontory, 
 the whole scene opened at once on us in all its majesty. It looked 
 to me less like a real landscape than a mighty panoramic paint- 
 mg. The battlements where we were standing, and the blue 
 mirror of the Mediterranean just below, with a few vessels moor- 
 ed near the shore, made up the foreground ; just in front lay the 
 queenly city, stretching out to the eastern point of the bay, like a 
 great meteor — this point, crowned with the towers and dome of a 
 cathedral representing the nucleus, while the tail gradually 
 widened out and was lost among the numberless villas that reach- 
 ed to the top of the mountains behind. A mole runs nearly across 
 the mouth of the harbor, with a tall light-house at its extremity, 
 leaving only a narrow passage for vessels. As we gazed, a pur- 
 ple glow lay on the bosom of the sea, while far beyond the city, 
 th(; eastern half of the mountain crescent around the gulf was 
 tinted with the loveliest hue of orange. The impressions which 
 one derives from looking on remarkable scenery, depend, for 
 much of their effect, on the time and weather. I have been very 
 fortunate in this respect in two instances, and shall carry with 
 me through life, two glorious pictures of a very different charac- 
 ter — the wild sublimity of the Brocken in cloud and storm, and 
 the splendor of Genoa in an Italian sunset. 
 
A SAINT'S FESTIVAL. 253 
 
 Genoa has been called the " city of palaces." and it well de- 
 serves the appellation. Row above row of magnificent struc- 
 tures rise amid gardens along the side of the hills, and many of 
 the streets, though narrow and crooked, are lined entirely with 
 the splendid dwellings of the Genoese nobles. All these speak 
 of the republic in its days of wealth and power, when it could 
 cope successfully with Venice, and Doria could threaten to bridle 
 the horses of St. Mark. At present its condition is far different; 
 although not so fallen as Its rival, it is but a shadow of its former 
 self — the life and energy it possessed as a republic, has withered 
 away under the grasp of tyranny. 
 
 We entered Genoa, as I have already said, in a religious pro- 
 cession. On passing the gate we saw from the concourse of peo- 
 ple and the manv banners hanmriCT from the windows or floatinf^ 
 across the streets, that it was the day of a festa. Before enter- 
 ing the city we reached the procession itself, which was one of 
 unusual solemnity. As it was impossible in the dense crowd, to 
 pass it, we struggled through till we reached a good point for see- 
 ing the whole, and slowly moved on with it through the city. 
 First went a company of boys in white robes ; then followed a 
 body of friars, dressed in long black cassocks, and with shaven 
 crow^ns ; then a company of soldiers with a band of music ; then 
 a body of nuns, wrapped from head to foot in blue robes, leaving 
 only a small place to sec out of — in the dusk they looked very 
 solemn and ghost-like, and their low chant had to me something 
 awful and sepulchral in it ; then followed another company of 
 friars, and after that a great number of priests in white and black 
 robes, bearing the statue of the saint, with a pyramid of flowers, 
 crosses and blazing wax tapers, while companies of soldiery, 
 monks and music brought up the rear. Armed guards walked 
 at intervals on each side of the procession, to keep the way clear 
 and prevent disturbance ; two or three bands played solemn airs, 
 alternating with the deep monotonous chanting of the friars. The 
 whole scene, dimly lighted by the wax tapers, produced in me a 
 feeling nearly akin to fear, as if I were- witnessing some ghostly, 
 unearthly spectacle. To rites like these, however, which occur 
 every few weeks, the people must be well accustomed. 
 
 Among the most interesting objects in Genoa, is the Doria 
 
5.t)4 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 palace, fit in its splendor for a monarch's residence. It stands 
 in the Strada Nova, one of the three principal streets, and I be- 
 lieve is still in the possession of the famil}'-. There are many 
 others through the city, scarcely less magnificent, among which 
 that of the Durazzo family may be pointed out. The American 
 consulate is in one of these old edifices, with a fine court-yard 
 and ceilings co veered with frescoes. Mr. More, the Vice Consul, 
 did us a great kindness, which I feel bound to acknowledge^ 
 although it will require the disclosure of some private, and per- 
 haps uninteresting circumstances. On leaving Frankfort, we 
 converted — for the sake of convenience — the greater part of our 
 funds into a draft on a Saxon merchant in Leghorn, reserving 
 just enough, as we supposed, to take us thither. As in our for- 
 mer case, in Germany, the sum was too small, which we found 
 to our dismay on reaching Milan. Notwithstanding we had 
 traveled the whole ninety miles from that city to Genoa for three 
 francs each, in the hope of having enough left to enable one at 
 least to visit Leghorn, the expenses for a passport in Genoa (more 
 than twenty francs) prevented this plan. I went therefore to the 
 Vice Consul to ascertain whether the merchant on whom the draft 
 was drawn, had any correspondents there, who might advance a 
 portion of it. His secretary made many inquiries, but without 
 effect ; Mr. Moro then generously offered to furnish me with 
 means to reach Leghorn, whence I could easily remit a sufficient 
 sum to my two comrades. This put an end to our anxiety, (for I 
 must confess we could not help feeling some), and I therefore pre- 
 pared to leave that evening in the " Virgilio." 
 
 The feelings with which I look on this lovely land, are fast 
 changing. What with the dust and heat, and cheating landlords, 
 and .the dull plains of Lombardy, my first experience was not 
 very prepossessing. But the joyous and romantic anticipation 
 with which I looked forward to realizing the dream of my earliest 
 boyhood, is now beginning to be surpassed by the exciting reality. 
 Every breath I drew in the city of Columbus and Doria, was 
 deeply tinctured with the magic of history and romance. It was 
 like entering on a new existence, to look on scenes so lovely by 
 nature and so filled with the inspiring memories of old. 
 
A NIGHT ON THE MEDITERRANEAN. Sf.S 
 
 " Italia toOj Italia ! looking on thee. 
 Full flashes on the soul the light of ages. 
 Since the tierce Carthagcnian almost won thee, 
 To the last halo of the chiefs and sages 
 Who glorify thy consecrated pages ! 
 Thou wert the throne and grave of empires." 
 
 The VirgiUo was advertised to leave at six o'clock, and I ac- 
 cordingly went out to her in a little boat half an hour beforehand ; 
 but we were delayed much longer, and 1 saw sunset again fade 
 over the glorious amphitheatre of palaces and mountains, with 
 the same orange glow — the same purple and crimson flush, deep- 
 enino^ into twilight — as before. An old blind man in a skiff, 
 floated around under the bows of the boat on the glassy water, 
 singing to the violin a plaintive air that appeared to be an even- 
 ing hymn to the virgin. There was something very touching in 
 his venerable countenance, with the sightless eyes turned upward 
 to the sunset heaven whose glory he could never more behold. 
 
 The lamps were lit on the tower at the end of the mole as we 
 glided out on the open sea ; I stood on deck and watched the re- 
 ceding lights of the city, till they and the mountains above them 
 were blended with the darkened sky. The sea-breeze was fresh 
 and cool, and the stars glittered with a frosty clearness, which 
 would have made the night delicious had not a slight rolling of 
 the waves obliged me to go below. Here, besides being half sea- 
 sick, I was placed at the mercy of many voracious fleas, who ob- 
 stinately stayed, persisting in keeping me company. This was 
 the first time I had suffered from these canni'jals, and such were 
 my torments, I almost wished some blood-thirsty Italian would 
 come and put an end to them with his stiletto. 
 
 The first ray of dawn that stole into the cabin sent me on deck. 
 The hills of Tuscany lay in front, sharply outlined on the red- 
 dening sky ; near us vi'as the steep and rocky isle of Gorgona ; 
 and far to the south-west, like a low mist along the water, ran 
 the shores of Corsica — the birth place of Columbus and Napo- 
 leon!* As the dawn brightened we saw on the southern horizon 
 a cloud-like island, also imperishably connected with the name 
 
 * By recent registers found in Corsica, it has been determined that this 
 island also gave birth to the discoverer of the new world. 
 
256 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of the latter — the prison-kingdom of Elba ! North of us extended 
 the rugged mountains of Carrarra — that renowned range whence 
 has sprung many a form of almost breathing beauty, and where 
 yet slumber, perhaps, in the unhewn marble, the god-like shapes 
 of an age of art, more glorious than any the world has ever yet 
 beheld ! 
 
 The sun rose from behind the Appenines and masts and towei's 
 became visible through the golden haze, as we approached the 
 shore. On a flat space between tiie sea and the hills, not far 
 from the foot of Montenero, stands Leghorn. The harbor is pro- 
 tected by a mole, leaving a narrow passage, through which we 
 entered, and after waiting two hours for the visit of the health 
 and police officers, we were permitted to go on shore. The first 
 thing that struck me, was the fine broad streets ; the second, the 
 motley character of the population. People were hurrying about 
 noisy and bustling — Greeks in their red caps and capotes ; grave 
 turbaned and bearded Turks; dark Moors; the Corsair-looking 
 natives of Tripoli and Tunis, and seamen of nearly every nation. 
 At the hotel where I stayed, we had a singular mixture of 
 nations at dinner : — two French, two Swiss, one Genoese, one 
 Roman, one American and one Turk — and we were waited on 
 by a Tuscan and an Arab ! We conversed together in four Ian 
 guages, all at once. 
 
 To the merchant, Leghorn is of more importance than to the 
 traveler. Its extensive trade, not only in the manufactures of 
 Tuscany, but also in the productions of the Levant, makes it im- 
 portant to the former, while the latter seeks in vain for fine build- 
 ings, galleries of art, or interesting historical reminiscences. 
 Through the kind attention of the Saxon Consul, to whom I had 
 letters, two or three days went by delightfully. 
 
 The only place of amusement here in summer is a drive along 
 the sea shore, called the Ardenza, which is frequented every even- 
 ing by all who can raise a vehicle. I visited it twice with a Ger- 
 man friend. We met one evening the Princess Corsini, wife of 
 the Governor of Leghorn, on horseback — a young, but not pretty 
 woman. The road leads out along the Mediterranean, past an old 
 fortress, to a large establishment for the sea bathers, where it 
 ends in a large ring, around which the carriages pass and re-pass^ 
 
SCENES IN LEGHORN. 257 
 
 until sunset has gone out over the sea, when they return to the 
 city in a mad gallop, or as fast as the lean horses can draw them. 
 
 In driving around, we met two or three carriages of Turks, in 
 one of which I saw a woman of Tunis, with a curious gilded 
 head-dress, eighteen inches in height. 
 
 I saw one night a Turkish funeral. It passed me in one of the 
 outer streets, on its way to the Turkish burying ground. Those 
 following the coffin, which was covered with a heavy black pall, 
 wore white turbans and long white robes — the mourning color of 
 the Turks. Torches we^'e borne by attendants, and the whole 
 company passed on at a quick pace. Seen thus by night, it had 
 a strange and spectral appearance. 
 
 There is another spectacle here which was exceedingly revolt- 
 ing to me. The condemned criminals, chained two and two, are 
 kept at work through the city, cleaning the streets. They are 
 dressed in coarse garments of a dirty red color, with the name of 
 the crime for which they were convicted, painted on the back. I 
 shuddered to see so many marked with the words — " omicidio 
 premeditatoJ^ All day they are thus engaged, exposed to the 
 scorn and contumely of the crowd, and at night dragged away to 
 be incarcerated in damp, unwholesome dungeons, excavated un- 
 der the public thoroughfares. 
 
 The employment of criminals in this way is common in Italy. 
 Two days after crossing St. Gothard, we saw a company of ab- 
 ject-looking creatures, eating their dinner by the road-side, near 
 Bellinzona. One of them had a small basket of articles of cot- 
 ton and linen, and as he rose up to offer them to us, I was startled 
 by the clank of fetters. They were all employed to labor on the 
 road. 
 
 On going down to the wharf in Leghorn, in the morning, two 
 
 or three days ago, I found F and B just stepping on 
 
 shore from the steamboat, tired enough of the discomforts of 
 the voyage, yet anxious to set out for Florence as soon as possi- 
 ble. After we had shaken off the crowd of porters, pedlars and 
 vetturini, and taken a ha^ty breakfast at the Cafe Americano, we 
 went to the Police Office to get our passports, and had the satis- 
 faction of paying two francs for permission to proceed to Florence. 
 The weather had changed since the preceding day, and the 
 
25S VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sirocco- wind which blows over from the coast of Africa, filled the 
 streets with clouds of dust, which made walking very unpleasant. 
 The clear blue sky had vanished, and a leaden cloud hung low 
 on the Mediterranean, hiding the shores of Corsica and the rocky 
 isles of Gorgona and Capraja. 
 
 The country between Leghorn and Pisa, is a flat marsh, inter- 
 sected in several places by canals to carry off the stagnant water 
 which renders this district so unhealthy. It is said that the en- 
 tire plain between the mountains* of Carrarra and the hills back 
 of Leghorn has been gradually formed by the deposits of the 
 Arno and the receding of the Mediterranean, which is so shallov/ 
 along the vvhple coast, that large vessels have to anchor several 
 miles out. As we approached Pisa over the level marsh, I could 
 see the dome of the Cathedral and the Leaning Tower rising 
 above the gardens and groves which surround it. 
 
 Our baggage underwent another examination at the gate, 
 where we were again assailed by the vetturini, one of whom hung 
 on us like a leech till we reached a hotel, and there was finally 
 no way of shaking him off except by engaging him to take us to 
 Florence. The bargain having been concluded, we had still a 
 few hours left and set off to hunt the Cathedral. We found it on 
 an open square near the outer wall, and quite remote from the 
 main part of the town. Emerging from the narrow and winding 
 street, one takes in at a glance the Baptistery, the Campo Santo, 
 the noble Cathedral and the Leaning Tower — forming altogether 
 a view rarely surpassed in Europe for architectural effect. But 
 the square is melancholy and deserted, and rank, untrampled 
 grass fills the crevices of its marble pavement. 
 
 I was surprised at the beauty of the Leaning Tower. Instead 
 of ah old, black, crumbling fabric, as I always supposed, it is a 
 light, airy, elegant structu/e, of white marble, and its declension, 
 which is interesting as a work of art (or accident,) is at the same 
 time pleasing from its novelty. There have been many conjec- 
 tures as to the cause of this deviation, which is upwards of four- 
 teen feet from the perpendicular; it is now generally believed 
 that the earth havino; sunk when the buildinfj was half finished, 
 it was continued by the architects in the same angle. The up- 
 per gallery, which is smaller than the O'.hers, shows a very per- 
 
PISA. 259 
 
 ceptible inclination Dack towards tlie perpendicular, as if in some 
 degree to counterbalance the deviation of the other part. There 
 are eight galleries in all, supported by marble pillars, but the 
 inside of the Tower is hollow to the very top. 
 
 We ascended by the same stairs which were trodden so often 
 by Galileo in going up to make his astronomical observations; in 
 climbing spirally around the hollow cylinder in the dark, it was 
 easy to tell on which side of the Tower we were, from the pro- 
 portionate steepness of the staircase. There is a fine view from 
 the top, embracing the whole plain as far as Leghorn on one side, 
 with its gardens and grain fields spread out like a vast map. In 
 1 valley of the Carrarrese Mountains to the north, we could see 
 the little town of Lucca, much frequented at this season on ac- 
 count of its baths ; the blue summits of the Appenines shut in the 
 view to the east. In walking through the city I noticed two other 
 towers, which had nearly as great a deviation from the perpen- 
 dicular. We met a person who had the key of the Baptist'^ry, 
 which he opened for us. Two ancient columns covered with rich 
 sculpture form the doorway, and the dome is supported by mas- 
 sive pillars of the red marble of Elba. The baptismal font is of 
 the purest Parian marble. The most remarkable thing was the 
 celebrated musical echo. Our cicerone stationed himself at the 
 side of the font and sang a few notes. After a moment's pause 
 they were repeated aloft in the dome, but with a sound of divine 
 sweetness — as clear and pure as the clang of a crystal bell. 
 Another pause — and we heard them again, higher, fainter and 
 sweeter, followed by a dying note, as if they were fading far away 
 into heaven. It seemed as if an angel lingered in the temple, 
 echoing with his melodious lips the common harmonies of earth. 
 Even thus does the music of good deeds, hardly noted in our 
 grosser atmosphere, awake a divine echo in the far world of spirit. 
 
 The Campo Santo, on the north side of the Cathedral, was, until 
 lately, the cemetery of the city ; the space enclosed within its 
 marble galleries is filled to the depth of eight or ten feet, with 
 earth from the Holy Land. The vessels which carried the knights 
 of Tuscany to Palestine were filled at Joppa, on returning, with 
 this earth as ballast, and on arriving at Pisa it was deposited in 
 the Cemetery. It has the peculiar property of decomposing all 
 
260 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 human bodies, in the space of two days. A colonnade of marble 
 encloses it, with windows of the most exquisite sculpture opening 
 on the inside. They reminded me of the beautiful Gothic oriels 
 of Melrose. At each end are two fine, green cypresses, which 
 thrive remarkably in the soil of Palestine. The dust of a Ger- 
 man emperor, among others, rests in this consecrated ground. 
 There are other fine churches in Pisa, but the four buildings I 
 have mentioned, are the principal objects of interest. The towei 
 where Count Ugolino and his sons were starved to death by the 
 citizens of Pisa, who locked them up and threw the keys into the 
 Arno, has lately been destroyed. 
 
 An Italian gentleman having made a bargain in the meantime 
 with our vetturino, we found every thing ready on returning to 
 the hotel. On the outside of the town we mounted into the vehicle, 
 a rickety-looking concern, and as it commenced raining, I was 
 afraid we would have a bad night of it. After a great deal of 
 bargaining, the vetturino agreed to take us to Florence that night 
 for five francs a piece, provided one person would sit on the out- 
 side with the driver. I accordingly mounted on front, protected 
 by a blouse and umbrella, for it was beginning to rain dismally. 
 The miserable, bare-boned horses were fastened with rope-traces, 
 and the vetturino having taken the rope-lines in his hand, gave a 
 flourish with his whip ; one old horse tumbled nearly to the ground, 
 but he jerked him up again and we rattled off. 
 
 After riding ten miles in this way, it became so wet and dreary, 
 that 1 was fain to give the driver two francs extra, for the privi- 
 lege of an inside seat. Our Italian companion was agreeable 
 and talkative, but as we were still ignorant of the language, I 
 managed to hold a scanty conversation with him in French. He 
 seemed delighted to learn that we were from America ; his polite 
 reserve gave place to a friendly familiarity and he was loud m 
 his praises of the Americans. I asked him why it was that he 
 and the Italians generally, were so friendly towards us. " I hard- 
 ly know," he answered ; " you are so difTerent ^rom any other 
 nation ; and then, too, you have so much sincerity .'" 
 
 The Appenines were wreathed and hidden in thick mist, and 
 the prospect over the flat cornfields bordering the road was not 
 particularly interesting. We had made about one-third of the 
 
NIGHT TRAVELING. 261 
 
 way as night set in, when on ascending a hill soon after dark, 
 
 F happened to look out, and saw one of the axles bent and 
 
 nearly broken off. We were obliged to get out and walk through 
 the mud to the next village, when after two hours' delay, the 
 vetturino canne along with another carriage. Of the rest of the 
 way to Florence, I cannot say much. Cramped up in the nar- 
 row vehicle, we jolted along in the dark, rumbling now and then 
 through some silent village, where lamps were burning before the 
 solitary shrines. Sometimes a blinding light crossed the road, 
 where we saw the tile-makers sittinof in the red glare of their 
 kilns, and often the black boughs of trees were painted momen- 
 tarily on the cloudy sky. If the jolting carriage had even per- 
 mitted sleep, the horrid cries of the vetturino, urging on his horses, 
 would have prevented it ; and I decided, while trying to relieve 
 my aching limbs, that three days' walking in sun and sand was 
 preferable to one night of such travel. 
 
 Finally about four o'clock in the morning the carriage stopped ; 
 my Italian friend awoke and demanded the cause. " Signer," 
 said the vetturino, " we are in Florence V I blessed the man, and 
 the city too. The good-humored officer looked at our passports 
 and passed our baggage without examination ; we gave the gate- 
 keeper a paul and he admitted us. The carriage rolled through 
 the dark, silent streets — passed a public square — came out on the 
 Arno — crossed and entered the city again — and finally stopped 
 at a hotel. The master of the " Lione Bianco''^ came down in 
 an undress to receive us, and we shut the growing dawn out 
 ofour rooms to steal that repose from the day which the night 
 had not given. 
 
^62 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 FLORENCE AND ITS GALLERIES. 
 
 Sept. 11. — Our situation here is as agreeable as we could well 
 desire. We have three large and handsomely furnished rooms, 
 in the centre of the city, for which we pay Signer Lazzeri, a 
 wealthy goldsmith, ten scudo per month — a scudo being a trifle 
 more than an American dollar. We live at the Cafes and Trat- 
 torie very conveniently for twenty-five cents a day, enjoying 
 moreover, at our dinner in the Trattoria del Cacciatore, the com- 
 pany of several American artists with whom we have become ac- 
 quainted. The day after our arrival we met at the table d' bote 
 of the " Lione Bianco," Dr. Boardman of New York, through 
 whose assistance we obtained our present lodgings. There are 
 at present ten or tv/elve American artists in Florence, and we 
 promise ourselves much pleasure and profit from their acquaint- 
 ance. B and I are so charmed with the place and the beau- 
 tiful Tuscan dialect, that we shall endeavor to spend three or four 
 
 months here. F returns to Germany in two weeks, to attend 
 
 the winter term of the University at his favorite Fleidelberg. 
 
 Our first walk in Florence was to the Royal Gallery — we 
 wished to see the " goddess living in stone" without delay. Cross- 
 ing the neighboring Piazza del Granduca, we passed Michael 
 Angelo's colossal statue of David, and an open gallery contain- 
 ing, besides some antiques, the master-piece of John of Bologna. 
 The palace of the Uffizd, fronting on the Arno, extends along 
 both sides of an avenue running back to the Palazzo Vecchio. 
 We entered the portico which passes around under the great 
 building, and after ascending three or four fliglits of steps, came 
 into a long hall, filled with paintings and ancient statuary. Tow- 
 ards the end of this, a door opened into the Tribune — that cele- 
 brated room, unsurpassed by any in the world for the number 
 
THE ROYAL GALLERY. 263 
 
 and value of the gems it contains. I pushed aside a crimson 
 curtain and stood in the presence of the Venus. 
 
 It may be considered heresy, but I confess I did not at first go 
 into raptures, nor perceive any traces of superhuman beauty. 
 The predominant feeling, if I may so express it, was satisfaction ; 
 the eye dwells on its faultless outline with a gratified sense, that 
 nothing is wanting to render it perfect. It is the ideal of a wo- 
 man's form — a faultless standard by which all beauty may be 
 measured, but without striking expression, except in the modest 
 and graceful position of the limbs. The face, though regular, is 
 not handsome, and the body appears small, being but five feet in 
 height, which, I think, is a little below the average stature of 
 women. On each side, as if to heighten its elegance by contrast 
 with rude and unrefined nature, are the statues of the Wrestlers, 
 and the slave listening to the conspiracy of Catiline, called also 
 The Whetter. 
 
 As if to correspond with the value of the works it holds, the 
 Tribune .'s paved with precious marbles and the ceiling studded 
 with polished mother-of-pearl. A dim and subdued light fills the 
 hall, which throws over the mind that half-dreamy tone necessary 
 to the full enjoyment of such objects. On each side of the Venus 
 de Medici hangs a Venus by Titian, the size of life, and painted 
 in that rich and gorgeous style of coloring which has been so 
 often and vainly attempted since his time. 
 
 Here are six of Raphael's best preserved paintings. I prefer 
 the " St. John in the Desert" to any other picture in the Tribune. 
 His glorious form, in the fair proportions of ripening boyhood — 
 the grace of his attitude, with the arm lifted eloquently on high — 
 the divine inspiration which illumines his young features — chain 
 the step irresistibly before it. It is one of those triumphs of the 
 pencil which few but Raphael have accomplished — the painting 
 of spirit in its loftiest and purest form. Near it hangs the For- 
 narina, which he seems to have painted in as deep a love as he 
 entertained for the orio-inal. The face is modest and beautiful, 
 and filled with an expression of ardent and tender attachment. I 
 never tire looking upon either of these two. 
 
 Let me not forget, while we are in this peerless hall, to point 
 out Guercino's Samian Sybil. It is a glorious work, With her 
 
264 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 hands clasped over her volume, she is looking up with a face full 
 of deep and expressive sadness. A picturesque turban is twined 
 around her head, and bands of pearls gleam amidst her rich, dark 
 brown tresses. Her face bears the sof'^ness of dawning woman- 
 hood, and nearly answers my ideal of female beauty. The same 
 artist has another fine picture here — a deeping Endymion. The 
 mantle has fallen from his shoulders, as he reclines asleep, with 
 his head on his hand, and his crook beside him. The silver 
 crescent of Dian looks over his shoulder from the sky behind, 
 and no wonder if she should become enamored, for a lovelier 
 shepherd has not been seen since that of King Admetus went 
 back to drive his chariot in the heavens. 
 
 The " Drunken Bacchus" of Michael Angelo is greatly ad- 
 mired, and indeed it might pass for a relic of the palmiest times 
 of Grecian art. The face, amidst its half-vacant, sensual expres- 
 sion, shows traces of its immortal origin, and there is still an air 
 of dignity preserved in the swagger of his beautiful form. Tt is, 
 in a word, the ancient idea of a drunken god. It may be doubted 
 whether the artist's talents might not have been employed belter 
 than in ennobling intoxication. If he had represented Bacchus as 
 he really is — degraded even below the level of humanity — it 
 might be more beneficial to the mind, though less beautiful to the 
 eye. However, this is a question on which artists and moralists 
 cannot agree. Perhaps, too, the rich blood of the Falernian grape 
 produced a more godlike delirium than the vulgar brandy which 
 oversets the moderns ! 
 
 At one end of the gallery is a fine copy in marble of the Lao- 
 coon, by Bandinelli, one of the rivals of Michael Angelo. When 
 it was finished, the former boasted it wcs better than the original, 
 to which Michael made the apt reply : " It is foolish for those 
 who walk in the footsteps of others, to siy they go before them !" 
 
 Let us enter the hall of Niobe. One starts back on seeing 
 the many figures in the attitude of flight, for they seem at first 
 about to spring from their pedestals. At the head of the room 
 stands the afflicted mother, bending over the youngest daughter 
 who clings to her knees, with an upturned countenance of deep 
 and imploring agony. In vain ! the shafts of Apollo fall thick, 
 and she will soon be childless. No wonder the strength of that wo 
 
ART AND ITALY. 266 
 
 depicted on her countenance should change her into stone. One 
 of her sons — a beautiful, boyish form, — is lying on his back, just 
 expiring, with the chill langour of death creeping over his limbs. 
 We seem to hear the quick whistling of the arrows, and look in- 
 voluntarily into the air to see the hovering figure of the avenging 
 god. In a chamber near is kept the head of a faun, made by 
 Michael Angelo, at the age of fourteen, in the garden of Lorenzo 
 de Medici, from a piece of marble given him by the workmen. 
 
 The portraits of the painters are more than usually interesting. 
 Every countenance is full of character. There is the pale, en- 
 thusiastic face of Raphael, the stern vigor of Titian, the majesty 
 and dignity of Leonardo da Vinci, and the fresh beauty of An- 
 gelica Kauffmann. I liked best the romantic head of Raphael 
 Mengs. In one of the rooms there is a portrait of Alfieri, with 
 an autograph sonnet of his own on the back of it. The house in 
 which he lived and died, is on the north bank of the Arno, near 
 the Ponte Caraja, and his ashes rest in Santa Croce. 
 
 Italy still remains the home of art, and it is but just she should 
 keep these treasures, though the age that brought them forth has 
 passed away. They are her only support now ; her people are 
 dependent for their subsistence on the glory of the past. The 
 spirits of the old painters, living still on their canvass, earn from 
 year to year the bread of an indigent and oppressed people. This 
 oui^ht to silence those utilitarians at home, who oppose the culti- 
 vation of the fine arts, on the ground of their being useless luxu- 
 ries. Let them look to Italy, where a picture by Raphael or 
 Correggio is a rich legacy for a whole city. Nothing is useless 
 that gratifies that perception of beauty, which is at once the most 
 delicate and the most intense of our mental sensations, binding us 
 by an unconscious link nearer to nature and to Him, whose every 
 thought is born of Beauty, Truth and Love. I envy not the one 
 who looks with a cold and indifferent spirit on these immortal 
 creations of the old masters — these poems written in marble and 
 on the canvass. They who oppose every thing which can refine 
 and spiritualize the nature of man, by binding him down to the 
 cares of the work-day world alone, cheat life of half its glory. 
 
 The eighth of this month was the anniversary of the birth of 
 the Vircrin, and the celebration, if such it might be called, com- 
 
 13 
 
266 VIEWS A-FOOl, 
 
 menced the evening before. It is the custom, and Heaven only 
 knows how it originated, for the people of the lower class to go 
 throuo-h the streets in a company, blowing little penny whistles. 
 We were walking that night in the direction of the Duomo, when 
 we met a band of these men, blowing with all their might oq 
 the shrill whistles, so that the whole neighborhood resounded with 
 one continual, piercing, ear-splitting shriek. They marched in a 
 kind of quick trot through the streets, followed by a crowd of 
 boys, and varying the noise occasionally by shouts and howls of 
 the most horrible character. They paraded through all the prin- 
 cipal streets of the city, which for an hour sent up such an ago- 
 nizing scream that you might have fancied it an enormous mon- 
 ster, expiring in great torment. The people seemed to take the 
 whole thing as a matter of course, but it was to us a novel man- 
 ner of ushering in a religious festival. 
 
 The sky was clear and blue, as it always is in this Italian par- 
 adise, when we left Florence a few days ago for Fiesole. In 
 spite of many virtuous efforts to rise early, it was nine o'clock 
 before we left the Porta San Gallo, with its triumphal arch to the 
 Emperor Francis, striding the road to Bologna. We passed 
 through the public walk at this end of the city, and followed the 
 road to Fiesole along the dried-up bed of a mountain torrent. 
 The dwellings of the Florentine nobility occupy the whole slope, 
 surrounded with rich and lovely gardens. The mountain and 
 plain are both covered with luxuriant olive orchards, whose foliage 
 of silver gray gives the scene the look of a moonlight landscape. 
 
 At the base of the mountain of Fiesole we passed one of the 
 summer palaces of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and a little distance 
 beyond, took a foot-path overshadowed by magnificent cypresses, 
 between whose dark trunks we looked down on the lovely Val 
 d'Arno. But I will reserve all description of the view till we 
 arrive at the summit. 
 
 The modern village of Fiesole occupies the site of an ancient 
 city, generally supposed to be of Etrurian origin. Just above, on 
 one of the peaks of the mountain, stands the Acropolis, formerly 
 used as a fortress, but now untenanted save by a few monks. 
 From the side of its walls, beneath the shade of a few cypresses, 
 there is a magnificent view of the whole of Val d'Arno, with 
 
THE -TOP OF FIESOLE." 267 
 
 Florence — the gem of Italy — in the centre. Stand with me a 
 moment on the height, and let us gaze on this grand panorama, 
 around which the Apennines stretch with a majestic sweep, wrap- 
 ped in a robe of purple air, through which shimmer the villas and 
 villages on their sides ! The lovely vale lies below us in its garb 
 of olive groves, among which beautiful villas are sprinkled as plen- 
 tifully as white anemones in the woods of May. Florence lies 
 in front of us, the magnificent cupola of the Duomo crowning its 
 clustered palaces. We see the airy tower of the Palazzo Vec- 
 chio — the new spire of Santa Croce — and the long front of the 
 Palazzo Pitti, with the dark foliage of the Boboli Gardens behind. 
 Beyond, far to the south, are the summits of the mountains near 
 Siena. We can trace the sandy bed of the Arno down the val- 
 ley till it disappears at the foot of the Lower Apennines, which 
 mingle in the distance with the mountains of Carrara. 
 
 Galileo was wont to make observations "at evening from the 
 top of Fiesole," and the square tower of the old church is still 
 pointed out as the spot. Many a night did he ascend to its pro- 
 jecting terrace, and watch the stars as they rolled around through 
 the clearest heaven to which a philosopher ever looked up. 
 
 We passed through an orchard of fig trees, and vines laden 
 with beautiful purple and golden clusters, and in a few minutes 
 reached the remains of an amphitheatre, in a little nook on the 
 mountain side. This was a work of Roman construction, as its 
 form indicates. Three or four ranges of seats alone, are laid 
 bare, and these have only been discovered within a few years. A 
 few steps further we came to a sort of cavern, overhung with 
 wild fig-trees. After creeping in at the entrance, we found our- 
 selves in an ova' chamber, tall enough to admit of our standing 
 upright, and rudely but very strongly built. This was one of the 
 dens in which the wild beasts were kept ; they were fed by a 
 hole in the top, now closed up. This cell communicates with 
 four or five others, by apertures broken in the walls. I stepped 
 into one, and could see in the dim light, that it was exactly simi- 
 lar to the first, and opened into another beyond. 
 
 Further down the mountain we found the ancient wall of the 
 city, without doubt of Etrurian origin. It is of immense blocks 
 of stone, and extends more or less dilapidated around the whole 
 
268 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 brow of the mountain. In one place there stands a solitary gate- 
 way, of large stones, which looks as if it might have been one of 
 the first attempts at using the principle of the arch. These ruins 
 are all gray and ivied, and it startles one to think what a history 
 Earth has lived through since their foundations were laid ! 
 
 We sat all the afternoon under the cypress trees and looked 
 down on the lovely valley, practising Italian sometimes with two 
 young Florentines who came up to enjoy the " Z>e//' ana" of Fie- 
 sole. Descending as sunset drew on, we reached the Porta San 
 Gallo. as the people of Florence were issuing forth to their even- 
 ing promenade. 
 
 One of my first visits was to the church of Santa Croce. This 
 is one of the oldest in Florence, venerated alike by foreigners 
 and citizens, for the illustrious dead whose remains it holds. It 
 is a plain, gloomy pile, the front of which is still unfinished, 
 though at the base, one sees that it was originally designed to be 
 covej'ed with black marble. On enterinor the door we first saw 
 the tomb of Michael Angelo. Around the marble sarcophagus 
 which contains his ashes are three mourning figures, representing 
 Sculpture, Painting and Architecture, and his bust stands above 
 — a rough, stern countenance, like a man of vast but unrefined 
 mind. Further on are the tombs of Alfieri and Machiavelli and 
 the colossal cenotaph lately erected to Dante. Opposite reposes 
 Galileo. What a world of renown in these few names ! It makes 
 one venerate the majesty of his race, to stand beside the dust of 
 such lofty spirits. 
 
 Dante's monument may be said to be only erected to his mem- 
 ory ; he sleeps at the plaoo of his exile, 
 
 •' Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore !" 
 
 It is the work of Ricci, a Florentine artist, and has been placed 
 there within a few years. The colossal figure of Poetry weeping 
 over the empty urn, might better express the regret of Florence 
 in being deprived of his ashes. The figure of Dante himself, 
 seated above, is grand and majestic ; his head is inclined as if in 
 meditation, and his features bear the expression of sublime 
 thought. Were this figure placed there alone, on a simple and 
 
SANTA CROCK. 269 
 
 massive pedestal, it would be more in keeping with his fame than 
 the lumbering heaviness of the present monument. 
 
 Machiavelli's tomb is adorned with a female figure represent- 
 ing History, bearing his portrait. The inscription, which seems 
 to be somewhat exaggerated, is : tanto nomini nullum par elogium. 
 Near lies Alfieri, the " prince of tragedy," as he is called by the 
 Italians. In his life he was fond of wandering among the tombs 
 of Santa Croce, and it is said that there the first desire and pre- 
 sentiment of his future glory stirred within his breast. Now he 
 slumbers among them, not the least honored name of that immor- 
 tal company. 
 
 Galileo's tomb is adorned with his bust. His face is calm and 
 dignified, and he holds appropriately in his hands, a globe and 
 telescope. Aretino, the historian, lies on his tomb with a copy 
 of his works clasped to his breast ; above that of Lanzi, the his- 
 torian of painting, there is a beautiful fresco of the angel of 
 fame ; and opposite to him is the scholar Lamio. The most beau- 
 tiful monument in the church is that of a Polish princess, in the 
 transept. She is lying on the bier, her features settled in the re- 
 pose of death, and her thin, pale hands clasped across her breast. 
 The countenance wears that half-smile, " so coldly sweet and 
 sadly fair," which so often throws a beauty over the face of the 
 dead, and the light pall reveals the fixed yet graceful outline of 
 the form. 
 
 In that part of the city, which lies on the south bank of the 
 Arno, is the palace of the Grand Duke, known by the name of the 
 Palazzo Pitti, from a Florentine noble of that name, by whom it 
 was first built. It is a very large, imposing pile, preserving an 
 air of lightness in spite of the rough, heavy stones of which it is 
 built. It is another example of a magnificent failure. The 
 Marquis Strozzi, having built a palace which was universally 
 admired for its beauty, (which stands yet, a model of chaste and 
 massive elegance,) his rival, the Marquis Pitti, made the proud 
 boast that he would build a palace, in the court-yard of which 
 could be placed that of Strozzi. These are actually the dimen- 
 sions of the court-yard ; but in building the palace, although 
 he was liberally assisted by the Florentine people, he ruined 
 himself, and his magnificent residence passed into other hands. 
 
270 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 while that of Strozzi is inhabited by his descendants to this very 
 day. 
 
 The gallery of the Palazzo Pitti is one of the finest in Europe. 
 It contains six or seven hundred paintings, selected from the best 
 works of the Italian masters. By the praiseworthy liberality of 
 the Duke, they are open to the public, six hours every day, and 
 the rooms are thronged with artists of all nations. 
 
 Among Titian's works, there is his celebrated " Bella," a half- 
 length figure of a young woman. It is a masterpiece of warm 
 and brilliant coloring, without any decided expression. The 
 countenance is that of vague, undefined thought, as of one who 
 knew as vet nothino; of the realities of life. In another room is 
 his Magdalen, a large, voluptuous form, with her brown hair fall- 
 ing like a veil over her shoulders and breast, but in her upturned 
 countenance cne can sooner read a prayer for an absent lover 
 than repentance for sins she has committed. 
 
 What could excel in beauty the Madonna della Sedia of Ra- 
 phael ? It is another of those works of that divine artist, on which 
 we gaze and gaze with a never-tiring enjoyment of its angelic 
 beauty. To my eye it is faultless ; I could not wish a single out- 
 line of form, a single shade ot color changed. Like his unrival- 
 led Madonna in the Dresden Gallery, its beauty is spiritual as 
 well as earthly ; and v.' bile gazing on the glorious countenance 
 of the Jesus-child, 1 feel an impulse I can scarcely explain — a 
 longing to tear it from the canvas as if it were a breathing form, 
 and clasp it to my heart in a glow of passionate love. What a 
 sublime inspiration Raphael must have felt when he painted it ! 
 Judging from its effect on the beholder, I can conceive of no 
 higher mental excitement than that required to create it. 
 
 Here are also some of the finest and best preserved pictures of 
 Salvator Rosa, and his portrait — a wild head, full of spirit and 
 genius. Besides several landscapes in his savage and stormy 
 style, there are two large sea-views, in whicli the atmosphere is 
 of a deep and exquisite softness, without impairing the strength 
 and boldness of the composition. " A Battle Scene," is terrible. 
 Hundreds of combatants are met in the shock and struufrle of 
 conflict. Horses, mailed knights, vassals are mixed together in 
 wild confusion ; banners are waving and lances flashing amid the 
 
GALLERY OF THE GRAND DUKE. 271 
 
 dust and smoke, while the wounded and dying are trodden under 
 foot in darkness and blood. I now first begin to comprehend the 
 power and sublimity of his genius. From the wildness and gloom 
 of his pictures, he might almost be called the Byron of painters. 
 
 There is a small group of the " Fates," by Michael Angelo, 
 which is one of the best of the few pictures which remain of him. 
 As is well known, he disliked the art, saying it was only fit for 
 women. This picture shows, however, how much higher he 
 might have gone, had he been so inclined. The three weird sis- 
 ters are ghostly and awful — the one who stands behind, holding 
 the distatr, almost frightful. She who stands ready to cut the 
 thread as it is spun out, has a slight trace of pity on her fixed and 
 unearthly lineaments. It is a faithful embodiment of the oM 
 Greek idea of the Fates. I have wondered why some artist has 
 not attempted the subject in a different way. In the Northern 
 Mythology they are represented as wild maidens, armed with 
 swords and mounted on fiery coursers. Why might they not 
 also be pictured as angels, with countenances of a sublime and 
 mysterious beauty — one all radiant with hope and promise of 
 glory, and one with the token of a better future mingled with the 
 sadness with which it severs the links of life ? 
 
 There are many, many other splendid works in this collection, 
 but it is unnecessary to mention them. I have only endeavored, 
 by taking a few of the best known, to give some idea of them as 
 they appear to me. There are hundreds of pictures here, which, 
 though gems in themselves, are by masters who are rarely heard 
 of in America, and it would be of little interest to go through the 
 Gallery, describing it in guide-book fashion. Indeed, to describe 
 galleries, however rich and renowned they miay be, is in general 
 a work of so much difficulty, that I know not whether the writer 
 or the reader is made most tired thereby. 
 
 This collection possesses also the celebrated statue of Venus, 
 by Canova. She stands in the centre of a little apartment, filled 
 with the most delicate and graceful works of painting. All^iough 
 undoubtedly a figure of great beauty, it by no means struck me 
 as possessing that exquisite ?nd classic perfection which has been 
 ascribed to it. The Venus de Medici far surpasses it. The head 
 is larger in proportion to the size of the body, than that of the lat 
 
272 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ter, but has not the same modest, virgin expression. The arm 
 wrapped in the robe which she is pressing to her breast, is finely 
 executed, but the fingers of the other hand are bad — looking, as 
 my friend said, as if the ends were whittled off! The body is, 
 however, of fine proportions, though, taken as a whole, the statue 
 is inferior to many other of Canova's works. 
 
 Occupying all the hill back of the Pitti Palace, are the Boboli 
 Gardens, three times a week the great resort of the Florentines. 
 They are said to be the most beautiful gardens in Italy. Num- 
 berless paths, diverging from a magnificent amphitheatre in the 
 old Roman style, opposite the court-yard, lead either in long 
 flights of steps and terraces, or gentle windings among beds sweet 
 with roses, to the summit. Long avenues, entirely arched and 
 interwoven with the thick foliage of the laurel, which here grows 
 to a tree, stretch along the slopes or wind in the woods through 
 thickets of the fragrant bay. Parterres, rich with flowers and 
 shrubbery, alternate with delightful groves of the Italian pine, 
 acacia and laurel-leaved oak, and along the hillside, gleaming 
 among the foliage, are placed statues of marble, some of which 
 are from the chisels of Michael Angelo and Bandinelli. In one 
 part there is a little sheet of water, with an island of orange-trees 
 in the centre, from which a broad avenue of cypresses and sta- 
 tues leads to the very summit of the hill. 
 
 We often go there to watch the sun set over Florence and the 
 vale of the Arno. The palace lies directly below, and a clump 
 of pine-trees on the hillside, that stand out in bold relief on the 
 glowing sky, makes the foreground to one of the loveliest pictures 
 this side of the Atlantic. I saw one afternoon the Grand Duke 
 and his family get into their carriage to drive out. One of the 
 little dukes, who seemed a mischievous imp, ran out on a projec- 
 tion of the portico, where considerable persuasion had to be used 
 to induce him to jump into the arms of his royal papa. I tuined 
 from these titled infants to watch a group of beautiful American 
 children playing, for my attention was drawn to them by the 
 sound of familiar words, and I learned afterwards they were the 
 children of the sculptor Powers. I contrasted involuntarily the 
 destinies of each ; — one to the enjoyment and proud energy of 
 
AMERICAN CHILDREN. 273 
 
 freedom, and one to the confining and vitiating atmosphere of a 
 court. The merry voices of the latter, as they played on the 
 grass, came to my ears most gratefully. There is nothing so 
 sweet as to hear one's native tongue in a foreign land from the 
 lips of children ! 
 
274 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE TO VALLOMIROSA. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE to Vallonibrosa ! — in sooth it has a romantic 
 sound. The phrase calls up images of rosaries, and crosses, and 
 shaven-headed friars. Had we lived in the olden days, such 
 things might verily have accompanied our journey to that holy 
 monastery. We might then have gone barefoot, saying prayers 
 as we toiled along the banks of the Arno and up the steep Appe- 
 nines, as did Benevenuto Cellini, before he poured the melted 
 bronze into the mould of his immortal Perseus. But we are pil- 
 grims to the shrines of Art and Genius ; the dwelling-places of 
 great minds are our sanctuaries. The mean dwelling, in which 
 a poet has battled down poverty with the ecstacy of his mighty 
 conceptions, and the dungeon in which a persecuted philosopher 
 has languished, are to us sacred ; we turn aside from the palaces 
 of kings and the battle-fields of conquerors, to visit them. The 
 famed miracles of San Giovanni Gualberto added little, in our 
 eyes, to the interest of Vallombrosa, but there were reverence 
 and inspiration in the names of Dante, Milton, and Ariosto. 
 
 We left Florence early, taking the way that leads from the 
 Porta della Croce, up the north bank of the Arno. It was a 
 bright morning, but there was a shade of vapor on the hills, 
 which a practised eye might have taken as a prognostic of the 
 rain that too soon came on. Fiesole, with its tower and Acropolis, 
 stood out brightly from the blue background, and the hill of San 
 Miniato lay with its cypress groves in the softest morning light. 
 The Contadini were driving into the city in their basket wagons, 
 and there were some fair young faces among them, that made us 
 think Italian beauty was not altogether in the imagination. 
 
 After walking three or four miles, we entered the Appenines, 
 keeping along the side of the Arno, whose bed is more than half 
 
PEASANTS OF THE APPENINES. 275 
 
 dried up from the long summer heats. The mountain sides were 
 covered with vineyards, glowing with their wealth of white and 
 purple grapes, but the summits were naked and barren. We 
 passed through the little town of Ponte Sieve, at the entrance of a 
 romantic valley, where our view of the Arno was made more in- 
 teresting by the lofty range of the Appenines, amid whose forests 
 we could see the white front of the monastery of Vallombrosa. 
 But the clouds sank low and hid it from siglit, and the rain came 
 on sa hard that we were obliged to take shelter occasionally in 
 the cottages by the wayside. In one of these we made a dinner 
 of the hard, black bread of the country, rendered palatable by 
 the addition of mountain cheese and some chips of an antique 
 Bologna sausage. We were much amused in conversing with 
 the simple hosts and their shy, gipsy-like children, one of whom, 
 a dark-eyed, curly-haired boy, bore the name of Raphael. We 
 also became acquainted with a shoemaker and his family, who 
 owned a little olive orchard and vineyard, which they said pro- 
 duced enough to support them. Wishing to know much a family 
 of six consumed in a year, we inquired the yield of their pro- 
 perty. They answered, twenty small barrels of wine, and ten 
 of oil. It was nearly sunset when we reached Pellago, and the 
 wet walk and coarse fare we were obliged to take on the road, 
 well qualified us to enjoy the excellent supper the pleasant land- 
 lady gave us. 
 
 This little town is among the Appenines, at the foot of the mag- 
 nificent mountain of Vallombrosa. What a blessing it was for 
 Milton, that he saw its loveliness before his eyes closed on this 
 beautiful earth, and gained from it another hue in which to dip 
 his pencil, when he painted the bliss of Eden ! I watched the 
 hills all day as we approached them, and thought how often his 
 eyes had rested on their outlines, and how he had carried their 
 forms in his memory for many a sunless year. The banished 
 Dante, too, had trodden them, flying from his ungrateful country ; 
 and many another, whose genius has made him a beacon in the dark 
 sea of the world's history. It is one of those places where the en- 
 joyment is all romance, and the blood thrills as we gaze upon it. 
 
 We started early next morning, crossed the ravine, and took 
 the well-paved way to the monastery along the mountain side. 
 
276 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The stones are worn smooth by the sleds in which ladies and 
 provisions are conveyed up, drawn by the beautiful white Tuscan 
 oxen. The hills are covered with luxuriant chesnut and oak 
 trees, of those picturesque forms which they only wear in Italy : 
 one wild dell in particular is much resorted to by painters for the 
 ready-made foregrounds it supplies. Further on, we passed the 
 Paterno, a rich farm belonging to the Monks. The vines which 
 hung from tree to tree, were almost breaking beneath clusters as 
 heavy and rich as those which the children of Israel bore on 
 staves from the Promised Land. Of their flavor, we can say, 
 from experience, they were worthy to have grown in Paradise. 
 We then entered a deep dell of the mountain, where little shep- 
 herd girls were sitting on the rocks tending their sheep and 
 spinning with their fingers from a distaff, in the same manner, 
 doubtless, as the Roman shepherdesses two .thousand years ago. 
 Gnarled, gray olive trees, centuries old, grew upon the bare soil, 
 and a little rill fell in many a tiny cataract down the glen. By 
 a mill, in one of the coolest and wildest nooks I ever saw, two of 
 us acted the part of water-spirits under one of these, to the great 
 astonishment of four peasants, who watched us from a distance. 
 
 Beyond, our road led through forests of chesnut and oak, and 
 a broad view of mountain and vale lay below us. We asked a 
 peasant boy we met, how much land the Monks of Vallombrosa 
 possessed. " All that you see .'" was the reply. The dominion 
 of the good fathers reached once even to the gates of Florence. 
 At length, about noon, we emerged from the woods into a broad 
 avenue leading across a lawn, at whose extremity stood the mas- 
 sive buildings of the monastery. On a rock that towered above 
 it, was the Paradisino, beyond which rose the mountain, covered 
 with forests — 
 
 " Shade above shade, a woody theatre 
 Of stateliest view" — 
 
 as Milton describes it. We were met at the entrance by a young 
 monk in cowl and cassock, to whom we applied for permission to 
 stay till the next day, which was immediately given. Brother 
 Placido (for that was his name) then asked us if we would not 
 have dinner. We replied that our appetites were none the worse 
 
VALLOMBROSA. 277 
 
 for climbinfT the mountain ; and in half an hour sat down to a 
 dinner, the like of which we had not seen for a long time. Verily, 
 thought I, it must be a pleasant thing to be a monk, after all ! — 
 thai is, a monk of Vallombrosa. 
 
 In the afternoon we walked through a grand pine forest to the 
 
 western brow of the mountain, where a view opened which it 
 
 would require a wonderful power of the imagination for you to see 
 
 in fancy, as I did in reality. From the height where we stood, the 
 
 view was uninterrupted to the Mediterranean, a distance of more 
 
 than seventy miles ; a valley watered by a branch of the Arno 
 
 swept far to the east, to the mountains near the Lake of Thrasy- 
 
 tnene ; northwestw^ards the hills of Carrara bordered the horizon ; 
 
 the space between these wide points was filled with mountains 
 
 and valleys, all steeped in that soft blue mist which makes Italian 
 
 landscapes more like heavenly visions than realities. Florence 
 
 was visible afar off, and the current of the Arno flashed in the 
 
 sun. A cool and almost chilling wind blew constantly over the 
 
 mountain, although tke country below basked in summer heat. 
 
 We lay en the rocks, and let our souls luxuriate in the lovely 
 
 scene till near sunset. Brother Placido brought us supper in 
 
 the evening, with his ever-smiling countenance, and we soon after 
 
 went to our beds in the neat, plain chambers, to get rid of the 
 
 unpleasant coldness. 
 
 Next morning it was damp and misly, and thick clouds rolled 
 down the forests towards the convent. I set out for the " Little 
 Paradise," taking in my way the pretty cascade which falls 
 some fifty feet down the rocks. The building is not now as it 
 was when Milton lived here, having been rebuilt within a short 
 lime. I found no one there, and satisfied my curiosity by climb- 
 ing over the wall and looking in at the windows. A little chapel 
 stands in a cleft of the rock below, to mark the miraculous escape 
 of St. John Gualberto, founder of the monastery. Being one day 
 very closely pursued by the Devil, he took shelter under the 
 rock, which immediately became soft and admitted him into it, 
 while the fiend, unable to stop, was precipitated over the steep. 
 All this is related in a Latin inscription, and we saw a large hoi- 
 low in the rock near, which must have been intended for the im- 
 print left by his sacred person. 
 
27S VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 One of the monks told us another letjend. concerninof a little 
 chapel which stands alone on a wild part of the mountain, 
 above a rough pile of crags, called* the "Peak of the Devil." 
 '* In the time of San Giovanni Gualberto, the holy founder of 
 our order," said he, " there was a young man, of a noble family 
 in Florence, who was so moved by the words of the saintly 
 father, that he forsook the world, wherein he had lived with great 
 luxury and dissipation, and became monk. But, after a time, 
 being young and tempted again by the pleasures he had re- 
 nounced, he put off the sacred garments. The holy San Gio- 
 vanni warned him of the terrible danger in which he stood, and at 
 length the wicked young man returned. It was not a great while, 
 however, before he became dissatisfied, and in spite all iioly coun- 
 sel, did the same thing again. But behold what ha;?pened ! As 
 he was walking along the peak where the chapel stands, thinking 
 nothing of his great crime, the devil sprang sudcJenly from behind 
 a rock, and catching the young man in his arms, before he could 
 escape, carried him with a dreadful noise and a great red flame 
 and smoke over the precipice, so that he was never afterwards 
 seen." 
 
 The church attached to the monastery is small, but very 
 solemn and venerable. I went several times to muse in its still, 
 gloomy aisle, and hear the murmuring chant of the Monks, who 
 went through their exercises in some of the chapels. At one 
 time I saw them all, in long black cassocks, march in solemn 
 order to the chapel of St. John Gualberto, where they sang a deep 
 chant, which to me had something awful and sepulchral in it. 
 Behind the high altar I saw their black, carved chairs of polished 
 oak, with ponderous gilded foliants lying on the rails before them. 
 The attendant opened one of these, that we might see the manu- 
 script notes, three or four centuries old, from which they sung. 
 
 We were much amused in looking through two or three Italian 
 books, which were lying in the traveler's room. One of these 
 which our friend Mr. Tandy, of Kentucky, read, described the 
 miracles of the patron saint with an air of the most ridiculous 
 solemnity. The other was a description of the Monastery, its 
 foundation, history, etc. In mentioning its great and far-spread 
 renown, the author stated than even an English poet, by the name 
 
SUNSET AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 279 
 
 of Milton, had mentioned it in the following lines, which I copied 
 verbatim from the book : 
 
 " Thick as autumnal scaves tliat strow she brooks 
 In vallombrosa, whcreth Etruian Jades 
 Stigh over orch d'embrover !'"' 
 
 In looking over the stranger's book, I found among the names 
 of my countrymen, that of S. V. Clevenger, the talented and la- 
 mented sculptor who died at sea on his passage home. There 
 were also the names of Mrs. Shelley and the Princess Potemkin, 
 and I saw written on the wall, the autograph of Jean Reboul, the 
 celebrated modern French poet. We were so delighted with the 
 place we would have stayed another day, but for fear of trepass- 
 ing too much on the lavish and unceasing hospitality of the good 
 fathers. 
 
 So in the afternoon we shook hands with Brother Placido, and 
 turned our backs regretfully upon one of the loneliest and love- 
 liest spots of which earth can boast. The sky became gradually 
 clear as we descended, and the mist raised itself from the distant 
 mountains. We ran down through the same chesnut groves, di- 
 verging a little to go through the village of Tosi, which is very 
 picturesque when seen from a distance, but extremely dirty to 
 one passing through. I stopped in the ravine below to take a sketch 
 of the mill and bridge, and as we sat, the line of golden sunlight 
 rose higher on the mountains above. On walking down the 
 shady side of this glen, we were enraptured with the scenery. A 
 brilliant yet mellow glow lay over the whole opposing height, 
 lighting up the houses of Tosi and the white cottages half seen 
 among the olives, while the mountain of Vallombrosa stretched 
 far heavenward like a sunny painting, with only a misty wreath 
 floating and waving around its summit. The glossy foliage of the 
 chesnuts was made still brighter by the warm light, and the old 
 olives softened down into a silvery gray, whose contrast gave the 
 landscape a character of the mellowest beauty. As we wound 
 out of the deep glen, the broad valleys and ranges of the Appe- 
 nines lay before us, forests, castles and villages steeped in the 
 soft, vapory blue of the Italian atmosphere, and the current of the 
 Arno flashing like a golden belt through the middle of the picture. 
 
880 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The sun was nearly down, and the mountains just below him 
 were of a deep purple hue, while those that ran out to the east- 
 ward wore the most aerial shade of blue. A few scattered clouds, 
 floating above, soon put on the sunset robe of orange and a band 
 of the same soft color encircled the western horizon. It did not 
 reach half way to the zenith, however ; the sky above was blue, 
 of such a depth and transparency, that to gaze upward was like 
 looking into enternity. Then how softly and soothingly the twilight 
 came on ! How deep a hush sank on the chesnut glades, broken 
 only by the song of the cicada, chirping its " good-night carol !" 
 The mountains, too, how majestic they stood in their deep purple 
 outlines ! Sweet, sweet Italy ! I can feel now how the soul may 
 cling to thee, since thou canst thus gratify its insatiable thirst for 
 the Beautiful. Even thy plainest scene is clothed in hues that 
 seem borrowed of heaven ! In the twilight, more radiant than 
 light, and the stillness, more eloquent than music, which sink 
 down over the sunny beauty of thy shores, there is a silent, in- 
 tense poetry that stirs the soul through all its impassioned 
 depths. With warm, blissful tears filling the eyes and a heart 
 overflowing with its own bright fancies, I wander in the solitude 
 and calm of such a time, and love thee as if I were a child of thy 
 soil I 
 
A COUNTRY INN. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WALK TO SIENA AND PRATOLINO INCIDENTS IN FLORENCE. 
 
 Octoler 16. — My cousin, being anxious to visit Rome, and 
 reach Heidelberg before the commencement of the winter semes- 
 tre, set out towards the end of September, on foot. We accom- 
 panied him as far as Siena, forty miles distant. As I shall most 
 probably take another road to the Eternal City, the present is a 
 good opportunity to say something of that romantic old town, so 
 famous throughout Italy for the honesty of its inhabitants. 
 
 We dined the first day, seventeen miles from Florence, at Ta- 
 venella, w here, for a meagre dinner the hostess had the assurance 
 to ask us seven pauls. We told her we would give but four and 
 a half, and by assuming a decided manner, with a plentiful use 
 of the word " Signora'^ she was persuaded to be fully satisfied 
 with the latter sum. From a height near, we could see the 
 mountains coasting the Mediterranean, and shortly after, on de- 
 scending a long hill, the little town of Poggibonsi lay in the warm 
 afternoon light, on an eminence before us. It was soon passed 
 with its dusky towers, then Stagia looking desolate in its ruined 
 and ivied walls, and following the advice of a peasant, we stop- 
 ped for the night at the inn of Querciola. As we knew some- 
 thing of Italian by this time, we thought it best to inquire the 
 price of lodging, before entering. The padrone asked if we meant 
 to take supper also. We answered in the affirmative ; " then," 
 said he, " you will pay half a paul (about five cents) apiece for 
 a bed." We passed under the swinging bunch of boughs, which 
 in Italy is the universal sign of an inn for the common people, 
 and entered the bare, smoky room appropriated to travelers. A 
 long table, with well-worn benches, were the only furniture ; we 
 threw our knapsacks on one end of it and sat down, amusing our- 
 selves while supper was preparing, in looking at a number of 
 
282 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 grotesque charcoal drawings on the wall, which the flaring light 
 of our tall iron lamp revealed to us. At length the hostess, a 
 kindly-looking woman, with a white handkerchief folded grace- 
 fully around her head, brought us a dish of fried eggs, which, 
 with the coarse black bread of the peasants and a basket-full of 
 rich grapes, made us an excellent supper. We slept on mat- 
 tresses stuffed with corn- husks, placed on square iron frames, 
 which are the bedsteads most used in Italy. A brightly-painted 
 caricature of some saint or a rough crucifix, trimmed with bay- 
 leaves, hung at the head of each bed, and under their devout 
 protection we enjoyed a safe and unbroken slumber. 
 
 Next morning we set out early to complete the remaining ten 
 miles to Siena. The only thing of interest on the road, is the 
 ruined wall and battlements of Castiglione, circling a high hill 
 and looking as old as the days of Etruria. The towers of Siena 
 are seen at some distance, but approaching it from this side, the 
 traveler does not perceive its romantic situation until he arrives. 
 It stands on a double hill, which is very steep on some sides ; the 
 hollow between the two peaks is occupied by the great public 
 square, ten or fifteen feet lower than the rest of the city. We 
 left our knapsacks at a cafe and sought the celebrated Cathedral, 
 which stands in the highest part of the town, forming with its 
 flat dome and lofty marble tower, an apex to the pyramidal mass 
 of buildings. 
 
 The interior is rich and elegantly perfect. Every part is of 
 black and white marble, in what I should call the striped style, 
 which has a singular but agreeable effect. The inside of the 
 dome and the vaulted ceilings of the chapels, are of blue, with 
 golden stars ; the pavement in the centre is so precious a work 
 that it is kept covered with boards and only shown once a year. 
 There are some pictures of great value in this Cathedral ; one 
 of " The Descent of the Dove," is worthy of the best days of 
 Italian art. In an adjoining chamber, with frescoed walls, and 
 a beautiful tesselated pavement, is the library, consisting of a few 
 huge old volumes, which witli their brown covers and brazen 
 clasps, look as much like a collection of flat leather trunks as 
 any thing else. In the centre of the room stands the mutilated 
 group of the Grecian Graces, found in digging the foundation of 
 
RETURN TO FLORENCE. 283 
 
 the Cathedral. The figures are still beautiful and graceful, with 
 that exquisite curve of outline which is sucli a charm in the an- 
 tique statues. Canova has only perfected the idea in his cele- 
 brated group, which is nearly a copy of this. 
 
 We strolled through the square and then accompdnied our 
 friend to the Roman gate, where we took leave of him ioi six 
 months at least. He felt lonely at the thought of walking in Italy 
 without a companion, but was cheered by the anticipation of soon 
 reaching Rome. We watched him awhile, walking rapidly ovei 
 the hot plain towards Radicofani, and then, turning our faces 
 with much pleasure towards Florence, we commenced the return 
 walk. I must not forget to mention the delicious grapes Avhich 
 we bougFit, begged and stole on the way. The whole country is 
 like one vineyard — and the people live, in a great measure, on 
 the fruit, during this part of the year. Would you not think il 
 highly romantic and agreeable to sit in the shade of a cypress 
 grove, beside some old weather-beaten statues, looking out over 
 the vales of Lhe Appenines, with a pile of white and purple grapes 
 beside you, the like of which can scarcely be had in America foi 
 love or money, and which had been given you by a dark-eyea 
 peasant girl ? If so, you may envy us, for such was exactly oui 
 situation on the morning before reaching Florence. 
 
 Being in the Duomo, two or three days ago, I met a German 
 traveler, who has walked through Italy thus far, and intends con- 
 tinuing his journey to Rome and Naples. His name is Von 
 Raumer. He was well acquainted with the present state ot 
 America, and I derived much pleasure from his intelligent con- 
 versation. We concluded to ascend the cupola in company. 
 Two black-robed boys led the way ; after climbing an infinitt 
 number of steps, we reached the gallery around the foot of the 
 dome. The glorious view of that paradise, the vale of the Arno, 
 shut in on all sides by mountains, some bare and desolate, some 
 covered with villas, gardens, and groves, lay in soft, hazy light, 
 with the shadows of a few light clouds moving slowly across it. 
 They next took us to a gallery on the inside of the dome, where 
 we first saw the immensity of its structure. Only from a distant 
 view, or in ascending it, can one really measure its grandeur. 
 The frescoes, which from below appear the size of life, are found 
 
084 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 to be rough and monstrous daubs ; each figure being nearly as 
 many fathoms in length as a man is feet. Continuing our ascent, 
 we mounted between the inside and outside shells of the dome. 
 It was indeed a bold idea for Brunelleschi to raise such a mass in 
 air. The dome of Saint Peter's, which is scarcely as large, was 
 not made until a century after, and this was, therefore, the first 
 attempt at raising one on so grand a scale. It seems still as 
 solid as if just built. 
 
 There was a small door in one of the projections of the lantern, 
 which the sacristan told us to enter and ascend still higher. 
 Supposing there was a fine view to be gained, two priests, who 
 had just come up, entered it ; the German followed, and I after 
 him. After crawling in at the low door, we found ourselves in a 
 hollow pillar, little wider than our bodies. Looking up, I saw 
 the German's legs just above my head, while the other two were 
 above him, ascending by means of little iron bars fastened in the 
 marble. The priests were very much amused, and the German 
 said : — " This is the first time I ever learned chimney-sweeping !" 
 We emerged at length into a hollow cone, hot and dark, with a 
 rickety ladder going up somewhere ; we could not see where. 
 The old priest, not wishing to trust himself to it, sent his younger 
 brother up, and we shouted after him : — " What kind of a view 
 have you ?" He climbed up till the cone got so narrow he could 
 go no further, and answered back in the darkness: — "I see 
 nothing at all !" Shortly after he came down, covered with dust 
 and cobwebs, and we all descended the chimney quicker than we 
 went up. The old priest considered it a good joke, and laughed 
 till his fat sides shook. We asked the sacristan why he sent us 
 up, and he answered : — " To see the construction of the Church .'" 
 
 I attended service in the Cathedral one dark, rainy morning, 
 and was never before so deeply impressed with the majesty and 
 grandeur of the mighty edifice. The thick, cloudy atmosphere 
 darkened still more the light which came through the stamed 
 windows, and a solemn twilight reigned in the long aisles. The 
 mighty dome sprang far aloft, as if it enclosed a part of heaven, 
 for the light that struggled through the windows around its base, 
 lay in broad bars on the blue, hazy air. I would not have been 
 surprised at seeing a cloud float along within it. The lofty burst 
 
WALK TO PRATOLINO. 285 
 
 of the organ, that seeined like the pantings of a monster, boomed 
 echoing away through dome and nave, with a chiming, metallic 
 vibration, that shook the massive pillars which it would defy an 
 earthquake to rend. All was wrapped in dusky obscurity, ex- 
 cept where, in tlie side-chapels, crowns of tapers were burning 
 around the imay-es. One knows noi which most to admire, the 
 genius which could conceive, or the perseverance which could 
 accomplish such a work. On one side of the square, the colossal 
 statue of the architect, glorious old Brunelleschi, is most appro- 
 priately placed, looking up with pride at his performance. 
 
 The sunshine and genial airs of Italy have gone, leaving in- 
 stead a cold, gloomy sky and chilling winds. The autumnal 
 season has fairly commenced, and I suppose I must bid adieu to 
 the brightness which made me in love with the land. The change 
 has been no less sudden than unpleasant, and if, as they say, it 
 will continue all winter with little variation, I shall have to seek 
 a clearer climate. In the cold of these European winters, there 
 is, as I observed last year in Germany, a dull, damp chill, quite 
 different from the bracing, exhilarating frosts of America. It 
 stagnates the vital principle and leaves the limbs dull and heavy, 
 with a lifeless feeling which can scarcely be overcome by vigor- 
 ous action. At least, such has been my experience. 
 
 We lately made an excursion to Pratolino, on the Appenines, 
 to see the vintage and the celebrated colossus, by John of Bologna. 
 Leaving Florence in the morning, with a cool, fresh wind blow- 
 ing down from the mountains, we began ascending by the road 
 to Bologna. We passed Fiesole with its tower and acropolis on 
 the right, ascending slowly, with the bold peak of one of the lof- 
 tiest Appenines on our left. The abundant fruit of the olive was 
 beginning to turn brown, and the grapes were all gathered in 
 from the vineyards, but we learned from a peasant-boy that the 
 vintage was not finished at Pratolino. 
 
 We finally arrived at an avenue shaded with sycamores, lead- 
 ing to the royal park. The vintagers were busy in the fields 
 around, unloading the vines of their purple tribute, and many a 
 laugh and jest among the merry peasants enlivened the toil. We 
 assisted them in disposing of some fine clusters, and then sought 
 the " Colossus of the Appenines." He stands above a little lake, 
 
286 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 at the head of a long mountain-slope, broken with clumps of mag- 
 nificent trees. This remarkable figure, the work of John of Bo- 
 logna, impresses one like a relic of the Titans. He is represent- 
 ed as half-kneeling, supporting himself with one hand, while the 
 other is pressed upon the head of a dolphin, from which a little 
 stream falls into the lake. The height of the figure when erect, 
 would amount to more than sixty feet! Weiineasured one of the 
 feet, which is a single piece of rock, about eight feet long; from 
 the ground to the top of one knee is nearly twenty feet. The 
 limbs are formed of pieces of stone, joined together, and the body 
 of stone and brick. His rough hair and eyebrows, and the beard, 
 which reached nearly to the ground, are formed of stalactites, 
 taken from caves, and fastened together in a dripping and crusted 
 mass. These hung also from his limbs and body, and gave him 
 the appearance of Winter in his mail of icicles. By climbing 
 up the rocks at his back, we entered his body, which contains a 
 small-sized room ; it v/as even possible to ascend through his 
 neck and look out at his ear ! The face is in keeping with the 
 figure — stern and grand, and the architect (one can hardly say 
 sculptor) iuis given to it the majestic air and sublimity of the Ap- 
 penines. But who can build up mi image of the Alp? 
 
 We visited the factory on the estate, where wine and oil are 
 made. The men had just brought in a cart-load of large wooden 
 vessels, filled with grapes, which they were mashing with heavy 
 wooden pestles. When the grapes were pretty well reduced to 
 pulp and juice, they emptied them into an enormous tun, which 
 they told us would be covered air-tight, and left for three or four 
 weeks, after which the wine would be drawn ofT at the bottom. 
 They showed us also a great stone mill for grinding olives ; this 
 estate of the Grand Duke produces five hundred barrels of wine 
 and a hundred and fifty of oil, every year. The former article is 
 the universal beverage of the laboring classes in Italy, or I might 
 say of all classes ; it is, however, the pure blood of the grape, and 
 although used in such quantities, one sees little drunkenness — 
 far less than in our own land. 
 
 Tuscany enjoys at present a more liberal government than any 
 other pait of Italy, and the people are, in many respects, pros- 
 perous and happy. The Grand Duke, although enjoying almost 
 
MORALITY OF ITALY. 287 
 
 absolute privileges, is disposed to encourage every measure which 
 may promote the welfare of his subjects. The people are, in- 
 deed, very heavily taxed, but this is less severely felt by them, 
 than it would be by the inhabitants of colder climes. The soil 
 produces with little labor all that is necessary for their support ; 
 though kept constanih^ in a state of comparative poverty, they 
 appear satisfied with their lot. and rarely look further than the 
 necessities of the present. In love with the delightful climate, 
 they cherish their country, fallen as she is, and are rarely in- 
 duced to leave her. Even the wealthier classes of the Italians 
 travel very little ; they can learn the manners and habits of 
 foreigners nearly as well in their own country as elsewhere, and 
 they prefer their own hills of olive and vine to the icy grandeur 
 of the Alps or the rich and garden-like beauty of England. 
 
 But, although this sweet climate, with its wealth of sunlight 
 and balmy airs, may enchant the traveler for awhile and make 
 him wish at times that his whole life might be spent amid such 
 scenes, it exercises a most enervating' influence on those who are 
 born to its enjoyment. It relaxes mental and physical energy, 
 and disposes body and mind to dreamy inactivity. The Italians, 
 as a race, are indolent and effeminate. Of the moral dignity of 
 man they have little conception. Those classes who are en- 
 gaged in active occupation seem even destitute of common hon- 
 esty, practising all kinds of deceits in the most open manner and 
 apparently without the least shame. The state of morals is low- 
 er than in any other country of Europe ; what little virtue exists 
 is found among the peasants. Many of the most sacred obliga- 
 tions of society are universally violated, and as a natural conse- 
 quence, the people are almost entire strangers to that domestic 
 happiness, which constitutes the true enjoyment of life. 
 
 This dark shadow in the moral atmosphere of Italy hangs like 
 u curse on her beautiful soil, weakening the sympathies of citi- 
 zens of freer lands with her fallen condition. I often feel vividly 
 the sentiment which Percival puts into the mouth of a Greek in 
 slavery : 
 
 " The spring may here with autumn twine 
 And both combined may rule the year. 
 
288 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 And fresh-blown flowers and racy wine 
 
 In frosted clusters still be near — 
 Dearer the wild and snowy hills 
 Where hale and ruddy Freedom smiles." 
 
 No people can ever become truly great or free, who are no 
 virtuous. If the soul aspires for liberty — pure and perfect lib- 
 erty — it also aspires for everything that is noble in Truth, every, 
 thing that is holy in Virtue. It is greatly to be feared that all 
 those nervous and impatient efforts which have been made and 
 are still being made by the Italian people to better their condi- 
 tion, will be of little avail, until they set up a better standard of 
 principle and make their private actions more conformable with 
 their ideas of political independence. 
 
 Oct. 22. — I attended to-day the fall races at the Cascine. This 
 is a dairy farm of the Grand Duke on the Arno, below the city ; 
 part of it, shaded with magnificent trees, has been made into a pub- 
 lic promenade and drive, which extends for three miles down the 
 river. Towards the lower end, on a smooth green lawn, is the 
 race-course. To-day was the last of the season, for which the 
 best trials had been reserved ; on passing out the gate at noon, we 
 found a number of carriages and pedestrians going the same way. 
 It was the very perfection of autumn temperature, and I do not 
 remember to have ever seen so blue hills, so green meadows, so 
 fresh air and so bright sunshine combined in one scene before. 
 All that gloom and coldness of which I lately complained has 
 vanished. 
 
 Traveling increases very much one's capacity for admiration. 
 Every beautiful scene appears as beautiful as if it had been the 
 first; and although I may have seen a hundred times as lovely 
 a combination of sky and landscape, the pleasure which it awa- 
 kens is never diminished. This is one of the greatest blessings 
 we enjoy — the freshness and glory which Nature wears to our 
 eyes forever. It shows that the soul never grows old — that the 
 eye of age can take in the impression of beauty with the same 
 enthusiastic joy that leaped through the heart of childhood. 
 
 We found the crowd around the race-course but thin ; half the 
 people there, and all the horses, appeared to be English. It was 
 a good place to observe the beauty of Florence, which however, 
 
THE FLORENTINE RACES. 289 
 
 may be done in a short time, as there is not much of it. There is 
 beauty in Ilaly, undoubtedly, but it is either among the peasants 
 or the higher class of nobility. 1 will tell our American women 
 confidentially, for I know they have too much sense to be vain of 
 it, that they surpass the rest of the world as much in beauty as 
 they do in intelligence and virtue. I saw in one of the carriages 
 the wife of Alexander Dumas, the French author. She is a large, 
 fair complexioned woman, and is now, from what cause I know 
 not, living apart from her husband. 
 
 The jockeys paced up and down the fields, preparing their 
 beautiful animals for the approaching heat, and as the hour drew 
 nigh the mounted dragoons busied themselves in clearing the 
 space. It was a one-mile course, to the end of the lawn and back. 
 At last the bugle sounded, and off went three steeds like arrows 
 let fiy. They passed us, their light limbs bounding over the 
 turf, a beautiful dark-brown taking the lead. We leaned over 
 :he railing and watched them eagerly. The bell rang — they 
 reached the other end — we saw them turn and come dashing back, 
 nearer, nearer ; the crowd began to shout, and in a few seconds 
 the brown one had won it by four or five lengths. The fortunate 
 horse was led around in triumph, and I saw an English lady, re- 
 markable for her betting propensities, come out from the crowd 
 and kiss it in apparent delight. 
 
 After an interval, three others took the field — all graceful, spir- 
 ited creatures. This was a more excitinir race than the first: 
 they flew past us nearly abreast, and the crowd looked after them 
 in anxiety. They cleared the course like wild deer, and in a 
 minute or two came back, the racer of an English nobleman a 
 short distance ahead. The jockey threw up his hand in token 
 of triumph as he approached the goal, and the people cheered 
 him. It was a beautiful sight to see those noble animals stretch- 
 ing to the utmost of their speed, as they dashed down the grassy 
 lawn. The lucky one always showed by his proud and erect 
 carriage, his consciousness of success. 
 
 Florence is fast becoming modernized. The introduction of 
 gas, and the construction of the railroad to Pisa, which is nearly 
 completed, will make sad havoc with the air of poetry which still 
 lingers in its silent streets. There is scarcely a bridge, a tower, 
 
 14 
 
290 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 or a street, which is not connected with some stirring association. 
 In the Via San Felice. Raphael used to paint when a boy ; near 
 the Ponte Santa Trinita stands Michael Angelo's house, with his 
 pictures, clothes, and painting implements, just as he left it three 
 centuries ago; on the south side of the Arno is the house of 
 Galileo, and that of Machiavelli stands in an avenue near the 
 Ducal Palace. While threading my way through some dark, 
 crooked streets in an unfrequented part of the city, I noticed an 
 old, untenanted house, bearing a marble tablet above the door. 
 I drew near and read : — " In this house of the Alio-hieri was born 
 the Divine Poet !" It was the birth-place of Dante ! 
 
 Nov. 1. — Yesterday morning we were apprised of the safe ar- 
 rival of a new scion of the royal family in the world by the ring- 
 ing of the city bells. To-day, to celebrate the event, the shops 
 were closed, and the people made a holiday of it. Merry chimes 
 pealed out from every tower, and discharges of cannon thundered 
 up from the fortress. In the evening the dome of the Cathedral 
 was illuminated, and the lines of cupola, lantern, and cross were 
 traced in flame on the dark sky, like a crown of burning stars 
 dropped from Heaven on the holy pile. I went in and walked 
 down the aisle, listening for awhile to the grand choral, while the 
 clustered tapers under the dome quivered and trembled,, as if 
 shaken by the waves of music which burst continually within its 
 lofty concave. 
 
 A few days ago Prince Corsini, Prime Minister of Tuscany, 
 died at an advanced age. I saw his body brought in solemn pro- 
 cession by night, with torches and tapers, to the church of Santa 
 Trinita. Soldiers followed with reversed arms and muffled 
 drums, the band playing a funeral march. I forced myself 
 through the crowd into the church, which was hung with black 
 and gold, and listened to the long drawn chanting of the priests 
 around the bier. 
 
 We lately visited the Florentine Museum. Besides the usual 
 collection of objects of natural history, there is an anatomical 
 cabinet, very celebrated for its preparations in wax. All parts 
 of the human frame are represented so wonderfully exact, that 
 students of medicine pursue their studies here in summer witli 
 the same facility as from real "subjects." Every bone, muscle, 
 
AMERICANS IN FLORENCE. 291 
 
 and nerve in the body is perfectly counterfeited, the whole form- 
 ing a collection as curious as it is useful. One chamber is occu- 
 pied with representations of the plague of Rome, Milan, and 
 Florence. They are executed with horrible truth to nature, but 
 I regretted afterwards having seen them. There are enough 
 forms of beauty and delight in the world on which to employ the 
 eye, without making it familiar with scenes which can only be 
 remembered with a shudder. 
 
 We derive much pleasure from the society of the American 
 artists who are now residing in Florence. At the houses of 
 Powers, and Brown, the painter, we spend many delightful eve- 
 nings in the company of our gifted countrymen. They are 
 drawn together by a kindred, social feeling as well as by their 
 mutual aims, and form among themselves a society so unrestrain- 
 ed, American-like, that the traveler who meets them forgets his 
 absence for a time. These noble representatives of our country, 
 all of whom possess the true, inborn spirit of republicanism, have 
 made the American name known and respected in Florence. 
 Powers, especially, who is intimate with many of the principal 
 Italian families, is universally esteemed. The Grand Duke has 
 more than once visited his studio and expressed the highest ad- 
 miration of his talents. 
 
292 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 AMERICAN ART IN FLORENCE. 
 
 1 HAVE seen Ibrahim Pacha, the son of old Mehemet Ali, driving 
 in his carriage through the streets. He is here on a visit from 
 Lucca, where he has been spending some time on account of his 
 health. He is a man of apparently fifty years of age ; his coun- 
 tenance wears a stern and almost savage look, very consistent 
 v/ith the character he bears and the political part he has played. 
 He is rather portly in person, the pale olive of his complexion 
 contrasting strongly v/ith a beard perfectly white. In common 
 with all his attendants, he wears the high red cap, picturesque 
 blue tunic and narrow trowsers of the Egyptians. There is 
 scarcely a man of them whose face with its wild, oriental beauty, 
 does not show to advantage among us civilized and prosaic 
 Christians. 
 
 In Florence, and indeed through all Italy, there is much rea- 
 son for our country to be proud of the high stand her artists are 
 taking. The sons of our rude v.estern clime, brought up without 
 other resources than their own genius and energy, now fairly 
 rival those, who from their cradle upwards have drawn inspira- 
 tion and ambition from the glorious masterpiecesof the old painters 
 and sculptors. Wherever our artists are known, they never fail 
 to create a respect for American talent, and to dissipate the false 
 notions respecting our cultivation and refinement, which prevail 
 in Europe. There are novv eight 6r ten of our painters and 
 sculptors in Florence, some of whom, I do not hesitate to say, 
 take the very first rank among living artists. 
 
 I have been highly gratified in visiting the studio of Mr. G. L. 
 Brown, who, as a landscape painter, is destined to take a stand 
 second to ^ew, since the days of Claude Lorraine. He is now 
 without a rival in Florence, or perhaps in Italy, and has youth 
 
BROWN AND KELLOGG. 293 
 
 genius and a plentiful stock of the true poetic enthusiasm for his 
 art, to work for him far greater triumphs. His Italian landscapes 
 have that golden mellowness and transparency of atmos| here 
 which give such a charm to the real scenes, and one would think 
 he used on his pallette, in addition to the more substantial colors, 
 condensed air and sunlight and the liquid crystal of streams. He 
 has wooed Nature like a lover, and she has not withheld her 
 sympathy. She has taught him how to raise and curve her trees, 
 load their boughs with foliage, and spread underneath them the 
 broad, cool shadows — to pile up the shattered crag, and steep the 
 long mountain range in the haze of alluring distance. 
 
 He has now nearly finished, a large painting of " Christ Preach- 
 ing in the Wilderness," which is of surprising beauty. You look 
 upon one of the fairest scenes of Judea. In front, the rude mul- 
 titude are grouped on one side, in the edge of a magnificent forest ; 
 on the other side, towers up a rough wall of rock and foliage that 
 stretches back into the distance, where some grand blue moun- 
 tains are piled against the sky, and a beautiful stream, winding 
 through the middle of the picture, slides away out of the fore- 
 ground. Just emerging from the shade of one of the cliffs, is the 
 benign figure of the Saviour, with the warm light which breaks 
 from behind the trees, falling around him as he advances. There 
 is a smaller picture of the " Shipwreck of St. Paul," in which he 
 shows equal skill in painting a troubled sea and breaking storm. 
 He is one of the young artists from whom we have most to hope. 
 
 I have been extremely interested in looking over a great num- 
 ber of sketches made by Mr. Kellogg, of Cincinnati, during a tour 
 through Eorypt, Arabia Petrsea and Palestine. He visited many 
 places out of the general route of travelers, and beside the great 
 number of landscape views, brought away many sketches of the 
 characters and costumes of the Orient. From some of these he 
 has commenced paintings, which, as his genius is equal to his 
 practice, will be of no ordinary value. Indeed, some of these 
 must give him at once an established reputation in America. In 
 Constantinople, where he resided several months, he enjoyed pe- 
 culiar advantges for the exercise of his art, through the favor 
 and influence of Mr. Carr, the American, and Sir Stratford Can- 
 ning, the British Minister. I saw a splendid diamond cup, pre- 
 
294 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 sented to him by Riza Pacha, the late Grand Vizier. The 
 sketches he brought from thence and from the valleys of Phrygia 
 and the mountain solitudes of old Olympus, are of great interest 
 and value. Among his later paintings, I might mention an angel, 
 whose countenance beams with a rapt and glorious beauty. A 
 divine lio-ht shines through all the features and heicrhtens the sflovv 
 of adoration to an expression all' spiritual and immortal. If Mr. 
 Kellogg will give us a few more of these heavenly conceptions, 
 we will place him on a pedestal, little lower than that of Guido. 
 
 Greenough, who has been sometime in Germany, returned 
 lately to Florence, where he has a colossal group in progress for 
 the portico of the Capitol. I have seen part of it, which is nearly 
 finished in the marble. It shows a backwoodsman just triumph- 
 ing in the struggle with an Indian ; another group to be added, 
 will represent the wife and child of the former. The colos^^al 
 size of the statues gives a grandeur to the action, as if it were a 
 combat of Titans ; there is a consciousness of power, an expres- 
 sion of lofty disdain in the expansion of the hunter's nostril and 
 the proud curve of his lip, that might become a god. The spirit 
 of action, of breathing, life-like exertion, so much more difficult 
 to infuse into the marble than that of repose, is perfectly attained. 
 I will not enter into a more particular description, as it will pro- 
 bably be sent to the United States in a year or two. It is a mag- 
 nificent work ; the best, unquestionably, that Greenough has yet 
 made. The subject, and the grandeur he has given it in the ex- 
 ecution, will ensure it a much more favorable reception than a 
 false taste gave to his Washington. 
 
 Mr. C. B. Ives, a young sculptor from Connecticut, has not 
 disappointed the high promise he gave before leaving home. I 
 was struck with some of his busts in Philadelphia, particularly 
 those of Mrs. Sigourney and Joseph R. Chandler, and it has 
 been no common pleasure to visit his studio here in Florence, 
 and look on some of his ideal works. He has lately made two 
 models, which, when finished in marble, will be works of great 
 beauty. They will contribute greatly to his reputation here and 
 in America. One of these represents a child of four or five 
 years of age, holding in his hand a dead bird, on which he is 
 gazing, with childish grief and wonder, that it is so still and droop- 
 
AMERICAN SCULPTORS. . 295 
 
 ing. It is a beautiful thought ; the boy is leaning forward as he 
 sits, holding the lifeless playmate close in his hands, his sadness 
 touched with a vague expression, as if he could not yet compre- 
 hend the idea of death. 
 
 The other is of equal excellence, in a different style ; it is 
 a bust of " Jephthah's daughter," when the consciousness of her 
 doom first flashes upon her. The face and bust are beautiful 
 with the bloom of perfect girlhood. A simple robe covers her 
 breast, and her rich hair is gathered up behind, and bound with 
 a slender fillet Her head, of the pure classical mould, is bent 
 forward, as if weighed down by the shock, and there is a heavy 
 drooping in the mouth and eyelids, that denotes a sudden and 
 sickening agony. It is not a violent, passionate grief, but a deep 
 and almost paralyzing emotion — a shock from which the soul will 
 finally rebound, strengthened to make the sacrifice. 
 
 Would it not be better for some scores of our rich merchants 
 to lay out their money on statues and pictures, instead of balls 
 and spendthrift sons ? A few such expenditures, properly direct- 
 ed, would do much for the advancement of the fine arts. An 
 occasional golden blessing, bestowed on genius, might be returned 
 on the giver, in the fame he had assisted in creating. There 
 seems, however, to be at present a rapid increase in refined taste, 
 and a better appreciation of artistic talent, in our country. And 
 as an American, nothing has made me feel prouder than this, and 
 the steadily increasing reputation of our artists. 
 
 Of these, no one has done more within tlie last few years, than 
 Powers. With a tireless and persevering energy, such as could 
 have belonged to few but Americans, he has already gained a 
 riame in his art, that posterity will pronounce in the same breath 
 vith Phidias, Michael Angelo and Thorwaldsen. I cannot de- 
 scribe the enjoyment I have derived from looking at his matchless 
 works. I should hesitate in giving my own imperfect judgmen 
 of their excellence, if I had not found it to coincide with tha, 
 of many others who are better versed in the rules of art. The 
 sensation which his " Greek Slave'' produced in England, has 
 doubtless ere this been breezed across the Atlantic, and I see by 
 the late American papers that they are growing familiar with his 
 fame. When I read a notice seven or eight years ago, of the 
 
96 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 youno- sculptor of Cincinnati, whose busts exhibited so much evi- 
 dence of genius, I little dreamed I should meet him in Florence, 
 with the experience of years of toil added to his early enthusiasm, 
 and every day increasing his renown. 
 
 You would like to hear of his statue of Eve, which men of taste 
 pronounce one of the finest works of modern times. A more per- 
 fect figure never filled my eye. 1 have seen the masterpieces 
 of Thorwaldsen, Dannecker and Canova, and the Venus de Med- 
 ici, but I have seen nothing yet that can exceed the beauty of this 
 glorious statue. So completely did the first view excite my sur- 
 prise and delight, and thrill every feeling that awakes at the sight 
 of the Beautiful, that my mind dwelt intensely on it for days 
 afterwards. This is the Eve of Scripture — the Eve of Milton — 
 mother of mankind and fairest of all her race. With the full 
 and majestic beauty of ripened womanhood, she wears the purity 
 of a world as yet unknown to sin. With the bearing of a queen, 
 there is in her countenance the softness and grace of a tender, 
 loving woman ; 
 
 " God-like erect, with native honor clad 
 In naked majesty," 
 
 She holds the fatal fruit extended in her hand, and her face ex- 
 presses the struggle between conscience, dread and desire. The 
 serpent, whose coiled length under the leaves and flowers entirely 
 surrounds her, thus forming a beautiful allegorical symbol, is 
 watching her decision from an ivied trunk at her side. Her 
 form is said to be fully as perfect as the Venus de Medici, and 
 from its greater size, has an air of conscious and ennobling dig- 
 nity. The head is far superior in beauty, and soul speaks from 
 every feature of the countenance. I add a few stanzas which 
 the contemplation of this statue called forth. Though unworthy 
 the subject, they may perhaps faintly shadow the sentiment which 
 Powers has so eloquently embodied in marble : 
 
 THE "EVE" OF POWERS. 
 
 A faultless being from the marble sprung, 
 
 She stands in beauty there ! 
 As when the grace of Eden 'round her clung — 
 
 Fairest v^here all was fair ! 
 
POWERS' "EVE." 297 
 
 I 
 
 Pure, as when first from God's creating hand 
 
 She came, on man to shine : 
 So seems she now, in living stone to stand — 
 
 A mortal, yet divine I 
 
 The spark the Grecian from Olympus caught, 
 
 Left not a loftier trace ; 
 The daring of the sculptor's hand has wrought 
 
 A soul in that sweet face ! 
 He won as well the sacred fire from heaven, 
 
 God-sent, not stolen down, 
 And no Promethean doom for him is given, 
 
 But ages of renown ! 
 
 The soul of beauty breathes around that form 
 
 A more enchanting spell ; 
 There blooms each virgin grace, ere yet the storm 
 
 On blighted Eden fell ! 
 The first desire upon her lovely brow, 
 
 Raised by an evil power ; 
 Doubt, longing, dread, are in her features now — 
 
 It is the trial-hour ! 
 
 How every thought that strives within her breast, 
 
 In that one glance is shown ! 
 Say, can that heart of marble be at rest, 
 
 Since spirit warms the stone ? 
 Will not those limbs, of so divine a mould, 
 
 Move, when her thought is o"er — 
 When she has yielded to the tempter's hold 
 
 And Eden blooms no more ? 
 
 Art, like a Phoenix, springs from dust again — 
 
 She cannot pass away ! 
 Bound down in gloom, she breaks apart the chain 
 
 And struggles up to day ! 
 The flame, first kindled in the ages gone, 
 
 Has never ceased to burn, 
 And westward^ now, appears the kindling dawn, 
 
 Which marks the day's return ! 
 
 The " Greek Slave" is now in the possession of Mr. Grant, of 
 London, and I only saw the clay model. Like the Eve, it is a 
 form that one's eye tells him is perfect, unsurpassed ; but it is 
 the budding loveliness of a girl, instead of the perfected beauty 
 of a woman. In England it has been pronounced superior to 
 
 Id* 
 
•298 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 Canova's works, and indeed I have seen nothing of his, that could 
 be placed beside it. 
 
 Powers has now nearly finished a most exquisite figure of a 
 fisher-boy, standing on the shore, with his net and rudder in one 
 hand, while with the other he holds a shell to his ear and listens 
 if it murmur to him of a gathering storm. His slight, boyish 
 limbs are full of grace and delicacy — you feel that the youthful 
 frame could grow up into nothing less than an Apollo. Then 
 the head — how beautiful ! Slightly bent on one side, with the 
 rim of the shell thrust under his locks, lips gently parted, and the 
 face wrought up to the most hushed and breathless expression, he 
 listens whether the sound be deeper than its wont. It makes you 
 hold your breath and listen, to look at it. Mrs. Jameson some- 
 where remarks that repose or suspended motion, should be al- 
 ways chosen for a statue that shall present a perfect, unbroken 
 impression to the mind. If tliis be true, the enjoyment must be 
 much more complete where not only the motion, but almost 
 breath and thought are suspended, and all the faculties wrought 
 into one hushed and intense sensation. In gazing on this exqui- 
 site conception. I feel my admiration filled to the utmost, without 
 that painful, aching impression, so often left by beautiful works. 
 It glides into my vision like a form long missed from the gallery 
 of beauty I am forming in my mind, and I gaze on it with an 
 ever new and increasing delight. 
 
 Now I come to the last and fairest of all — the divine Proser- 
 pine. Not the form, for it is but a bust rising from a capital of 
 acanthus leaves, which curve around the breast and arms and 
 turn gracefully outward, but the face, whose modest maiden 
 beauty can find no peer among goddesses or mortals. So looked 
 she on the field of Ennce — that " fairer flower," so soon to be 
 gathered by "gloomy Dis." A slender crown of green wheat- 
 blades, showing alike her descent from Ceres and her virgin 
 years, circles her head. Truly, if Pygmalion stole his fire to 
 warm such a form as this, Jove should have pardoned him. Of 
 Powers' busts it is unnecessary for me to speak. He has lately 
 finished a very beautiful one of the Princess Demidoff*, daughter 
 of Jerome Bonaparte. 
 
 We will soon, I hope, have the "Eve" in America. Powers 
 
POWERS. 299 
 
 has generously refused many advantageous offers for it, that he 
 might finally send it home ; and his country, therefore, will pos- 
 sess this statue, his first ideal work. She may well be proud 
 of the genius and native energy of her young artist, and she 
 should repay them by a just and liberal encouragement. 
 
300 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX VIII. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE ON THE GREAT ST. BERNARD WALKS ATIOUNO 
 
 FLORENCE. 
 
 JS'ov. 9. — A few days ago I received a letter from my cousin 
 at Heidelberg, describing his solitary walk from Genoa over the 
 Alps, and through the western part of Switzerland. The news of 
 his safe arrival dissipated the anxiety we were beginning to feel, 
 on account of his long silence, while it proved that our fears con- 
 cerning the danger of such a journey were not altogether ground- 
 less. He met with a startling adventure on the Great St. Bernard, 
 which will be best described by an extract from his own letter : 
 
 * * * " Such were my impressions of 
 
 Rome. But leaving the ' Eternal City,' I must hasten on to give 
 you a description of an adventure I met with in crossing the Alps, 
 omitting for the present an account of the trip from Rome to Ge- 
 noa, and my lonely walk through Sardinia. When I had crossed 
 the mountain range north of Genoa, the plains of Piedmont 
 stretched out before me. I could see the snowy sides and sum- 
 mits of the Alps more than one hundred miles distant, looking 
 like white, fleecy clouds on a summer day. It was a magnificent 
 prospect, and I wonder not that the heart of the Swiss soldier, 
 after years of absence in foreign service, beats with joy when he 
 again looks on his native mountains. 
 
 " As I approached nearer, the weather changed, and dark, 
 gloomy clouds enveloped them, so that they seemed to present an 
 impassible barrier to the lands beyond them. At Ivrea, I en- 
 tered the interesting valley of Aosta. The whole valley, fifty 
 miles in length, is inhabited by miserable looking people, nearly 
 one half of them being afflicted with goitre and cretinism. They 
 looked more idiotic and disgusting than any I have ever seen, and 
 it was really painful to behold such miserable specimens of hu- 
 
ASCENT OF ST. BERNARD. 301 
 
 manily dwelling amid the grandest scenes of nature. Immedi- 
 ately after arriving in the town of Aosta, situated at the upper 
 end of the valley, I began, alone, the ascent of the Great St. 
 Bernard. It was just noon, and the clouds on the mountains in- 
 dicated rain. The distance from Aosta to the monastery or hos- 
 pice of St. Bernard, is about twenty English miles. 
 
 "At one o'clock it commenced raining very hard, and to gain 
 shelter I went into a rude hut ; but it was filled with so many of 
 those idiotic cretins, lying down on the earthy floor with the dogs 
 and other animals, that 1 was glad to leave them as soon as the 
 storm had abated in some degree. I walked rapidly for three 
 hours, when I met a traveler and his guide descending the moun- 
 tain. I asked him in Italian the distance to the hospice, and he 
 undertook to answer me in French, but the words did not seem to 
 flow very fluently, so I said quickly, observing then that he was an 
 Englishman : ' Try some other language, if you please, sir !' He 
 replied instantly in his vernacular: 'You have a d — d long walk 
 before you, and you'll have to hurry to get to the top before night !' 
 Thanking him, we shook hands and hurried on, he downward and 
 I upward. About eight miles from the summit, I was directed 
 into the wrong path by an ignorant boy who was tending sheep, 
 and went a mile out of the course, towards Mont Blanc, before I 
 discovered my mistake. I hurried back into the right path again, 
 and soon overtook another boy ascending the mountain, who ask- 
 ed me if he might accompany me as he was alone, to which I of 
 course answered, yes ; but when we began to enter the thick 
 clouds that covered the mountains, he became alarmed, and said 
 he would go no farther. I tried to encourage him by saying we 
 had only five miles more to climb, but, turning quickly, he ran 
 down the path and was soon out of sight. 
 
 " After a long and most toilsome ascent, spurred on as I was by 
 the storm and the approach of night, I saw at last through the 
 clouds a little house, which I supposed might be a part of the 
 monastery, but it turned out to be only a house of refuge, erected 
 by the monks to take in travelers in extreme cases or extraordi- 
 nary danger. The man who was staying there, told me the 
 monastery was a mile and a half further, and thinking therefore 
 that I could soon reach it, I started out again, although darkness 
 
302 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 was approaching. In a short time the storm began in good earn- 
 est, and the cold winds blew with the greatest fury. It grew dark 
 very suddenly and I lost sight of the poles which are placed along 
 the path to guide the traveler. I then ran on still higher, hoping 
 to find them again, but without success. The rain and snow fell 
 thick, and although I think I am tolerably courageous, I began to 
 be alarmed, for it was impossible to know in what direction I was 
 going. I could hear the waterfalls dashing and roaring down the 
 mountain hollows on each side of me ; in the gloom, the foam 
 and leaping waters resembled streaming fires. I thought of turn- 
 ing back to find the little house of refuge again, but it seemed 
 quite as dangerous and uncertain as to go forward. After the 
 fatigue I had undergone since noon, it would have been danger- 
 ous to be obliged to stay out all night in the driving storm, which 
 was every minute increasing in coldness and intensity. 
 
 " I stopped and shouted aloud, hoping I might be somewhere 
 near the monastery, but no answer came — no noise except the 
 storm and the roar of the waterfalls. I climbed up the rocks 
 nearly a quarter of a mile higher, and shouted again. I listened 
 with anxiety for two or three minutes, but hearing no response, I 
 concluded to find a shelter for the night under a ledge of rocks. 
 While looking around me, I fancied I heard in the distance a 
 noise like the trampling of hoofs over the rocks, and thinking 
 travelers might be near, I called aloud for the third time. After 
 waiting a moment, a voice came ringing on my ears through the 
 clouds, like one from Heaven in response to my own. My heart 
 beat quickly ; I hurried in the direction from which the sound 
 came, and to my joy found two men — servants of the monastery 
 — who were driving their mules into shelter. Never in my whole 
 life was I more glad to hear the voice of man. These men con- 
 ducted me to the monastery, one-fourth of a mile higher, built by 
 the side of a lake at the summit of the pass, while on each side, 
 the mountains, forever covered with snow, tower some thousands 
 of feet higher. 
 
 " Two or three of the noble St. Bernard dogs barked a wel- 
 come as we approached, which brought a young monk to the 
 door. I addressed him in German, but to my surprise he an- 
 swered in broken English. He took me into a warm room and 
 
THE MONASTERS. 303 
 
 gave me a suit of clothes, such as are worn by the monks, for my 
 dress, as well as my package of papers, were completely saturated 
 «vith rain. I sat down to supper in company with all the monks 
 of the Hospice, I in my monkish robe looking like one of the 
 holy order. You would have laughed to have seen me in their 
 costume. Indeed, I ferlt almost satisfied to turn monk, as every- 
 thing seemed so comfortable in the warm supper room, with its 
 blazing wood fire, while outside raged the storm still more vio- 
 lently. But when I thought of their voluntary banishment from 
 the world, up in that high pass of the Alps, and that the affection 
 of woman never gladdened their hearts, I was ready to renounce 
 my monkish dress next morning, without reluctance. 
 
 " In the address book of the monastery, I found Longfellow's 
 ' Excelsior' written on a piece of paper and signed ' America. 
 You remember the stanza : 
 
 • At break of day, as heavenward, 
 The pious monks of St. Bernard 
 Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
 A voice cried through the startled air : 
 
 Excelsior !' 
 
 It seemed to add a tenfold interest to the poem, to read it on old 
 
 St. Bernard. In the morning I visited the house where are kept 
 
 the bodies of the travelers, who perish in crossing the mountain. 
 
 It is filled with corpses, ranged in rows, and looking like mummies, 
 
 for the cold is so intense that they will keep for years without 
 
 decaying, and are often recognized and removed by their friends. 
 
 " Of my descent to Martigny, my walk down the Rhone, and 
 
 along the shores of Lake Leman, my visit to the prison of Chillon 
 
 and other wanderings across Switzerland, my pleasure in seeing 
 
 the old river Rhine again, and my return to Heidelberg at night, 
 
 with the bright moon shining on the Neckar and the old ruined 
 
 castle, I can now say no more, nor is it necessary, for are not all 
 
 these things ' written in my book of Chronicles,' to be seen by you 
 
 when we meet again in Paris ? 
 
 Ever yours, Frank." 
 
 Dec. 16. — I took a walk lately to the tower of Galileo. In 
 company with three friends, I left Florence by the Porta Romana, 
 
304 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and ascended the Poggie Imperiale. This beautiful avenue, a 
 mile and a quarter in length, leading up a gradual ascent to a 
 villa of the Grand Duke, is bordered with splendid cypresses and 
 evergreen oaks, and the grass banks are always fresh and green, 
 so that even in winter it calls up a remembrance of summer. In 
 fact, winter does not wear the scowl here tJiat he has at home ; 
 he is robed rather in a threadbare garment of autumn, and it is 
 only high up on the mountain tops, out of the reach of his enemy, 
 the sun, that he dares to throw it off, and bluster about with his 
 storms and scatter down his snow-flakes. The roses still bud and 
 bloom in the hedges, the emerald of the meadows is not a whit 
 paler, the sun looks down lovingly as yet, and there are only the 
 white helmets of some of the Appenines, with the leafless mul 
 berries and vines, to tell us that we have changed seasons. 
 
 A quarter of an hour's walk, part of it by a path through an 
 olive orchard, brought us to the top of a hill, which was sur- 
 mounted by a square, broken, ivied tower, forming part of a store- 
 house for the produce of the estate. We entered, saluted by a 
 dog, and passing through a court-yard, in which stood two or 
 three carts full of brown olives, found our way to the rickety 
 staircase. I spared my sentiment in going up, thinking the steps 
 might have been renewed since Galileo's time, but the glorious 
 landscape which opened around us when we reached the top, time 
 could not change, and I gazed upon it with interest and emotion, 
 as my eye took in those forms which had once been mirrored in 
 the philosopher's. Let me endeavor to describe the features of 
 the scene. 
 
 Fancy yourself lifted to the summit of a high hill, whose base 
 slopes down to the valley of the Arno, and looking northward. Be- 
 hind you is a confusion of hill and valley, growing gradually 
 dimmer away to the horizon. Before and below you is a vale, 
 with Florence and her great domes and towers in its lap, and 
 across its breadth of five miles the mountain of Fiesole. To the 
 west it stretches away unbroken for twenty miles, covered thickly 
 with white villas — like a meadow of daisies, magnified. A few 
 miles to the east the plain is rounded with mountains, between 
 whose interlocking bases we can see the brown current of the 
 Arno. Some of their peaks, as well as the mountain of Vallom- 
 
MOONLIGHT ON THE ARNO. 305 
 
 brosa, along the eastern sky, are tipped with snow. Imagine tiie 
 air filled with a thick blue mist, like a semi-transparent veil, 
 which softens ever)'" thing into dreamy indistinctness, the sun- 
 shine falling slantingly through this in spots, touching the land- 
 scape here and there as with a sudden blaze of fire, and you will 
 complete the picture. Does it not repay your mental flight across 
 the Atlantic. 
 
 One eveninfr, on cominnr out of the cafe, the moon was shininsc 
 so brightly and clearly, that I involuntarily bent my steps towards 
 the river ; I walked along the Lung'' Arno, enjoying the heavenly 
 moonlight — " the night of cloudless climes and starry skies !" A 
 purer silver light never kissed the brow of Endymion. The 
 brown Arno took into his breast "the redundant glory," and 
 rolled down his pebbly bed with a more musical ripple ; opposite 
 stretched the long mass of buildings — the deep arches that rose 
 from the water were filled with black shadow, and the irregular 
 fronts of the houses touched with a mellow glow. The arches of 
 the upper bridge were in shadow, cutting their dark outline on 
 the silvery sweep of the Appenines, far up the stream. A veil 
 of luminous gray covered the hill of San Miniato, with its towers 
 and cypress groves, and there was a crystal depth in the atmo- 
 sphere, as if it shone with its own light. The whole scene affect- 
 ed me as something too glorious to be real — painful from the very 
 intensity of its beauty. Three moons ago, at the foot of Vallom- 
 brosa, I saw the Appenines flooded with the same silvery gjush, 
 and thought also, then, that I had seen the same moon amid far 
 dearer scenes, but never before the same dreamy and sublime 
 glory showered down from her pale orb. Some solitary lio-hts 
 were burning along the river, and occasionally a few Italians 
 passed by, wrapped in their mantles. I went home to the Piazza 
 del Granduca as the light, pouring into the square from behind 
 the old palace, fell over the fountain of Neptune and sheathed in 
 silver the back of the colossal god. 
 
 Whoever looks on the valley of the Arno from San Miniato, 
 and observes the Appenine range, of which Fiesole is one, bound- 
 ing it on the north, will immediately notice to the northwest a 
 double peak rising high above all the others. The bare, brown 
 forehead of this, known by the name of Monte Morello, seemed so 
 
306 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 provokirigly to challenge an ascent, that we determined to try it. 
 So we started early, the day before yesterday, from the Porta San 
 Gallo, with nothing but the frosty grass and fresh air to remind 
 us of the middle of December. Leaving the Prato road, at the 
 base of the mountain, we passed Careggi, a favorite farm of Lo- 
 renzo the Magnificent, and entered a narrow glen where a little 
 brook was brawling down its rocky channel. Here and there 
 stood a rustic mill, near which women were busy spreading their 
 washed clothes on the grass. Following the footpath, we ascend- 
 ed a long eminence to a chapel where some boys were amusing 
 themselves with a common country game. They have a small 
 wheel, around which they wind a rope, and, running a little dis- 
 tance to increase the velocity, let it off with a sudden jerk. On 
 a level road it can be thrown upwards of a quarter of a mile. 
 
 From the chapel, a gradual ascent along the ridge of a hill 
 brought us to the foot of the peak, which rose high before us, cover- 
 ed with bare rocks and stunted oaks. The wind blew coldly from 
 a snowy range to the north, as we commenced ascending with a 
 good will. A few shepherds were leading their flocks along the 
 sides, to browse on the grass and withered bushes, and we started 
 up a large hare occasionally from his leafy covert. The ascent 
 was very toilsome ; I was obliged to stop frequently on account 
 of the painful throbbing of my heart, which made it difficult to 
 breathe. When the summit was gained, we lay down awhile on 
 the leeward side to recover ourselves. 
 
 We looked on the great valley of the Arno, perhaps twenty- 
 five miles long, and five or six broad, lying like a long elliptical 
 basin sunk among the hills. I can liken it to nothing but a vast 
 sea ; for a dense, blue mist covered the level surface, through 
 which the domes of Florence rose up like a craggy island, while 
 the thousands of scattered villas resembled ships, with spread sails, 
 afloat on its surface. The sharp, cutting wind soon drove us 
 down, with a few hundred bounds, to the path again. Three 
 more hungry mortals did not dine at the Cacciaiore that day. 
 
 The chapel of the Medici, which we visited, is of wonderful 
 beauty. The walls are entirely encrusted with pietra dura and 
 the most precious kinds of marble. The ceiling is covered with 
 gorgeous frescoes by Benevenuto, a modern painter. Around the 
 
FAREWELL TO FLORENCE. 307 
 
 sides, in magnificent sarcophagi of marble and jasper, repose the 
 ashes of a few Cosmos and Ferdinands. I asl^ed the sacristan 
 for the tomb of Lorenzo the Magnificent. " Oh !" said he, " he 
 lived during the republic — he has no tomb; these are only for 
 Dukes!" I could not repress a sigh at the lavish waste of labor 
 an dtreasure on this one princely chapel. They might have 
 slumbered unnoted, like Lorenzo, if they had done as much for 
 their country and Italy. 
 
 December 19. — It is with a heavy heart, that I sit down to- 
 night to make my closing note in this lovely city and in the jour- 
 nal which has recorded my thoughts and impressions since leav- 
 ing America. 1 should find it difficult to analyze my emotions, 
 but 1 know that they oppress me painfully. So much rushes at 
 once over the mind and heart — memories of what has passed 
 through both, since I made the first note in its pages — alternations 
 of hope and anxiety and aspiration, but never despondency — that 
 it resembles in a manner, the closing of a life. I seem almost 
 to have lived through the common term of a life in this short pe- 
 riod. Much spiritual and mental experience has crowded into a 
 short time the sensations of years. Painful though some of it has 
 been, it was still welcome. Difficulty and toil give the soul 
 strength to crush, in a loftier region, the passions which draw 
 strength only from the earth. So long as we listen to the purer 
 promptings within us, there is a Power invisible, though not un- 
 felt, who protects us — amid the toil and tumult and soiling strug- 
 gle, there is ever an eye that watches, ever a heart that overflows 
 with Infinite and Almighty Love ! Let us trust then in that 
 Eternal Spirit, who pours out on us his warm and boundless bless- 
 ings, through the channels of so many kindred human hearts ! 
 
308 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 WINTER TRAVELINGr AMONG THE APPENINES. 
 
 Valley of the Arno, Dec. 22. — It is a glorious morning aftei 
 our two days' walk, through rain and mud, among these stormy 
 Appenines. The range of high peaks, among which is the cele- 
 brated monastery of Camaldoli, lie just before us, their summits 
 dazzling with the new fallen snow. The clouds are breaking 
 away, and a few rosy flushes announce the approach of the sun. 
 It has rained during the night, and the fields are as green and 
 fresh as on a morning in spring. 
 
 We left Florence on the 20th, while citizens and strangers 
 were vainly striving to catch a glimpse of the Emperor of Russia. 
 He is, from some cause, very shy of being seen, in his journeys 
 from place to place, using the greatest art and diligence to pre- 
 vent the time of his departure and arrival from being known. 
 On taking leave of Powers, I found him expecting the Autocrat, 
 as he had signified his intention of visiting his studio ; it was a 
 cause of patriotic pride to find that crowned heads know and ap- 
 preciate the genius of our sculptor. The sky did not promise 
 much, as v/e set out ; when we had entered the Appenines and 
 taken a last look of the lovely valley behind us, and the great 
 dome of the city where we had spent four delightful months, it 
 began to rain heavily. Determined to conquer the weather at 
 the beginning, we kept on, although before many miles were 
 passed, it became too penetrating to be agreeable. The moun- 
 tains grew nearly black under the shadow of the clouds, and the 
 storms swept drearily down their passes and defiles, till the scene- 
 ry looked more like the Hartz than Italy. We were obliged to 
 stop at Ponte Sieve and dry our saturated garments : when, as 
 the rain slackened somewhat, we rounded the foot of the moun. 
 
PEASANTS OF THE APPENINES. 309 
 
 tain of Vallombrosa, above the swollen and noisy Arno, to the 
 little village of Cucina. 
 
 We entered the only inn in the place, followed by a crowd of 
 wondering boys, for two such travelers had probably never been 
 seen there. They made a blazing fire for us in the broad chim- 
 ney, and after the police of the place satisfied themselves that we 
 were not dangerous characters, they asked many questions about 
 our country. I excited the sympathy of the women greatly in 
 our behalf bv telling^ them we had three thousand miles of sea 
 between us and our homes. They exclaimed in the most sym- 
 pathising tones : " Poverinif so far to go ! — three thousand miles 
 of water !" 
 
 The next morninsj we followed the ri^jht bank of the Arno. At 
 Incisa, a large town on the river, the narrow pass broadens into a 
 large and fertile plain, bordered on the north by the mountains. 
 The snow storms were sweeping around their summits the whole 
 day, and I thought of the desolate situation of the good monks who 
 had so hospitably entertained us three months before. It was 
 weary traveling ; but at Levane our fatigues were soon forgotten. 
 Two or three peasants were sitting last night beside the blazing 
 fire, and we were amused to hear them talkino; about us. I over- 
 heard one asking another to converse with us awhile. " Why 
 should I speak to them ?" said he ; 'j they are not of our profession 
 — we are swineherds, and they do not care to talk with us." How- 
 ever, his curiosity prevailed at last, and we had a long conversation 
 together. It seemed difficult for them to comprehend how there 
 could be so much water to cross, witliout any land, before reach- 
 ing our country. Finding we were going to Rome, I overheard 
 one remark we were pilgrims, which seemed to be the general 
 supposition, as there are few foot-travelers in Italy. The people 
 said to one another as we passed along the road : — " They are 
 making a journey of penance !" These peasants expressed 
 themselves very well for persons of their station, but they were 
 remarkably ignorant of everything beyond their own olive or- 
 chards and vine fields. 
 
 Perugia, Bee. 24. — On leaving Levane, the morning gave a 
 promise, and the sun winked at us once or twice through the 
 broken clouds, with a watery eye ; but our cup was not yet full. 
 
310 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 After crossing one or two shoulders of the range of hills, we de- 
 scended to the great upland plain of Central Italy, watered by the 
 sources of the Arno and the Tiber. The scenery is of a remark- 
 able character. The hills appear to have been washed and swept 
 by some mighty flood. They are worn into every shape — pyra- 
 mids, castles, towers — standing desolate and brown, in long ranges, 
 like the ruins of mountains. The plain is scarred with deep gul- 
 leys, adding to the look of decay which accords so well with the 
 Cyclopean relics of the country. 
 
 A storm of hail which rolled away before us, disclosed the city 
 of Arezzo, on a hill at the other end of the plain, its heavy cathe- 
 dral crowning the pyramidal mass of buildings. Our first care 
 was to find a good trattoria, for hunger spoke louder than senti- 
 ment, and then we sought the house where Petrarch was born. 
 A young priest showed it to us on the summit of the hill. It has 
 not been changed since he lived in it. 
 
 On leaving Florence, we determined to pursue the same plan 
 as in Germany, of stopping at the inns frequented by the common 
 people. They treated us here, as elsewhere, with great kind- 
 ness and sympathy, and we were freed from the outrageous im- 
 positions practised at the greater hotels. They always built a 
 large fire to dry us, after our day's walk in the rain, and placing 
 chairs in the hearth, which was raised several feet above the 
 floor, stationed us there, like the giants Gog and Magog, while 
 the children, assembled below, gazed up in open-mouthed wonder 
 at our elevated greatness. They even invited us to share their 
 simple meals with them, and it was amusing to hear their good- 
 hearted exclamations of pity at finding we were so far from home 
 We slept in the great beds (for the most of the Italian beds are 
 calculated for a man, wife, and four children !) without fear of 
 being assassinated, and only met with banditti in dreams. 
 
 This is a very unfavorable time of the year for foot-traveling. 
 We were obliged to wait three or four weeks in Florence for a 
 remittance from America, which not only prevented our leaving 
 as soon as was desirable, but, by the additional expense of living, 
 left us much smaller means than we required. However, through 
 the kindness of a generous countryman, who unhesitatingly loaned 
 us a considerable sum, we vvere enabled to start with thirty dollars 
 
A RIDE IN A CALESINO- 31 
 
 each, which, with care and economy, will be quite sufficient to 
 take us to Paris, by way of Rome and Naples, if these storms do 
 not prevent us from walking. Greece and the Orient, which I 
 so ardently hoped to visit, are now out of the question. We 
 walked till noon to-day, over the Val di Chiana to Camuscia, the 
 last post-station in the Tuscan dominions. On a mountain near 
 it is the city of Cortona, still enclospd within its Cyclopean walls, 
 built long before the foundation of Rome. Here our patience 
 gave way, melted down by the unremitting rains, and while eat- 
 ing dinner we made a bargain for a vehicle to bring us to this 
 city. We gave a little more than half of what the vetturino de- 
 manded, which was still an exorbitant price — two scudi each for 
 a ride of thirty miles. 
 
 In a short time we were called to take our seats ; I beheld with 
 consternation a rickety, uncovered, two-wheeled vehicle, to which 
 a single lean horse was attached. "What!" said I; "is that 
 the carriage you promised V' " You bargained for a calesino,^^ 
 said he, " and there it is !" adding, moreover, that there was no- 
 thing else in the place. So we clambered up, thrust our feet 
 among the hay, and the machine rolled off with a kind of saw-mill 
 motion, at the rate of five miles an hour. 
 
 Soon after, in ascending the mountain of the Spelunca, a sheet 
 of blue water was revealed below us — the Lake of Thrasymene ! 
 From the eminence around which we drove, we looked on the 
 whole of its broad surface and the mountains which encompass it. 
 It is a magnificent sheet of water, in size and shape somewhat 
 like New York Bay, but the heights around it are far higher than 
 the hills of Jersey or Staten Island. Three beautiful islands lie 
 in it. near the eastern shore. 
 
 While our calesino was stopped at the papal custom-house, I 
 gazed on the memorable field below us. A crescent plain, be- 
 tween the mountain and the lake, was the arena where two 
 mighty empires met in combat. The place seems marked by na- 
 ture for the scene of some great event. I experienced a thrilling 
 emotion, such as no battle plain has excited, since, when a school- 
 boy, I rambled over the field of Brandywine. I looked through 
 the long arcades of patriarchal olives, and tried to cover the field 
 with the shadows of the Roman and Carthaginian myriads. I re- 
 
312 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 called the shock of meeting legions, the clash of swords and buck- 
 lers, and the waving standards amid the dust of battle, while stood 
 on the mountain amphitheatre, trembling and invisible, the pro- 
 tecting deities of Rome. 
 
 " Far other scene is Thrasymene now !" 
 
 We rode over the plain, passed through the dark old town of 
 Passignano, built on a rocky point by the lake, and dashed along 
 the shore. A dark, stormy sky bent over us, and the roused 
 waves broke in foam on the rocks. The winds whistled among 
 the bare oak boughs, and shook the olives till they twinkled all 
 over. The vetturino whipped our old horse into a gallop, and we 
 were borne on in unison with the scene, which would have an- 
 swered for one of Hoffman's wildest stories. 
 
 Ascending a long liill, we took a last look in the dusk at Thra- 
 symene, and continued our journey among the Appenines. The 
 vetturino was to have changed horses at Magione, thirteen miles 
 from Perugia, but there were none to be had, and our poor beast 
 was obliged to perform the whole journey without rest or food. It 
 grew very dark, and a storm, with thunder and lightning, swept 
 among the hills. The clouds were of pitchy darkness, and we 
 could see nothing beyond the road, except the lights of peasant- 
 cottages trembling through the gloom. Now and then a flash of 
 lightning revealed the black masses of the mountains, on which 
 the solid sky seemed to rest. The wind and cold rain swept 
 wailing past us, as if an evil spirit were abroad on the darkness. 
 Three hours of such nocturnal travel brought us here, wet and 
 chilly, as well as our driver, but I pitied the poor horse more than 
 him. 
 
 When we looked out the window, on awaking, the clustered 
 house-tops of the city, and the summits of the mountains near 
 were covered with snow. But on walking to the battlements we 
 saw that the valleys below were green and untouched. Perugia, 
 for its " pride of place," must endure the storms, while the hum- 
 bler villages below escape them. As the rain continues, we have 
 taken seats in a country diligence for Foligno and shall depart in 
 a few minutes. 
 
 Dec. 28. — We left Perugia in a close but covered vehicle, and 
 
VALE OF CHITUMNUS. 313 
 
 descending the mountain, crossed the muddy and rapid Tiber in 
 the valley below. All day we rode slowly among the hills ; 
 where the ascent was steep, two or four large oxen were hitched 
 before the horses. 1 saw little of the scenery, for our Italian com- 
 panions would not bear the windows open. Once, when we 
 stopped, I got out and found we were in the region of snow, at the 
 foot of a stormy peak, which towered sublimely above. At dusk, 
 we entered Foligno, and were driven to the " Croce Bianca" — 
 glad to be thirty miles further on our way to Rome. 
 
 After some discussion with a vetturino, who was to leave next 
 morning, we made a contract with him for the remainder of the 
 journey, for the rain, which fell in torrents, forbade all thought 
 of pedestrianism. At five o'clock we rattled out of the gate, and 
 drove by the waning moon and morning starlight, down the vale 
 of the Clitumnus. As the dawn stole on, 1 watched eagerly the 
 features of the scene. Instead of a narrow glen, as my fancy 
 had pictured, v/e were in a valley, several miles broad, covered 
 with rich orchards and fertile fields. A glorious range of m'oun- 
 tains bordered it on the north, looking like Alps in their winter 
 garments. A rosy flush stole over the snow, which kindled with 
 the growing morn, till they shone like clouds that float in the sun- 
 rise. The Clitumnus, beside us, was the purest of streams. The 
 heavy rains which had fallen, had not soiled in the least its limpid 
 crystal. 
 
 When it grew light enough, I looked at our companions for the 
 three days' journey. The two other inside seats were occupied 
 by a tradesman of Trieste, with his wife and child ; an old sol- 
 dier, and a young dragoon going to visit his parents after seven 
 years' absence, occupied the front part. Persons traveling toge 
 ther in a carriage are not long in becoming acquainted — close 
 companionship soon breeds familiarity. Before night, I had made 
 a fast friend of the young soldier, learned to bear the perverse 
 humor of the child with as much patience as its father, and 
 even drawn looks of grim kindness from the crusty old vettu- 
 
 rino. 
 
 Our mid-day resting place was Spoleto. As there were two 
 hours given us, we took a ramble through the city, visited the 
 ruins of its Roman theatre and saw the gate erected to COm- 
 
 15 
 
314 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 memorate the victory gained here over Hannibal, which stopped his 
 triumphal march towards Rome. A great part of the afternoon 
 was spent in ascending among the defiles of Monte Somma, the 
 highest pass on the road between Ancona and Rome. Assisted 
 by two yoke of oxen we slowly toiled up through the snow, 
 the mountains on both sides covered with thickets of box and 
 evergreen oaks, among whose leafy screens the banditti hide 
 themselves. It is not considered dangerous at present, but as the 
 dragoons who used to patrol this pass have been sent oil' to Bo- 
 logna, to keep down the rebellion, the robbers will probably re- 
 turn to their old haunts again. We saw many suspicious look- 
 ing coverts, where they might have hidden. 
 
 We slept at Terni and did not see the falls — not exactly on 
 Wordsworth's principle of leaving Yarrow " unvisited,"' but be- 
 cause under the circumstances, it was impossible. The vettu- 
 jfino did not arrive there till after dark ; he was to leave before 
 dawn ; the distance was five miles, and the roads very bad. Be- 
 sides, we had seen falls quite as grand, which needed only a 
 Byron to make them as renowned — we had been told that those 
 of Tivoli, which we shall see, were equally fine. The Velino, 
 which we crossed near Terni, was not a large stream — in short, 
 we hunted as many reasons as we could find, why the falls 
 need not be seen. 
 
 Leaving Terni before day, we drove up the long vale towards 
 Narni. The roads were frozen hard ; the ascent becoming more 
 difficult, the vetturino was obliged to stop at a farm-house and get 
 another pair of horses, with which, and a handsome young canta- 
 dino as postillion, we reached Narni in a short time. In climbing 
 the hill, we had a view of the whole valley of Terni, shut in on 
 all sides by snow-crested Appenines, and threaded by the Nar, 
 whose waters flow " with many windings, through the vale !" 
 
 At Otricoli, while dinner was preparing, I walked around the 
 crumbling battlements to look down into the valley and trace the 
 far windings of the Tiber. In rambling through the crooked 
 streets, we saw everywhere the remains of the splendor which 
 this place boasted in the days of Rome. Fragments of fluted 
 pillars stood here and there in the streets ; large blocks of mar. 
 ble covered with sculpture and inscriptions were built mto the 
 
TRAVELING WITH A VETTURINO. 315 
 
 houses, defaced statues used as door-ornaments, and the stepping- 
 stone to our rude inn, worn every day by the feet of grooms and 
 vetturini, contained some letters of an inscription which may have 
 recorded the glory of an emperor. 
 
 Traveling with a vetturino, is unquestionably the pleasantest 
 way of seeing Italy. The easy rate of the journey allows time 
 for becoming well acquainted with the country, and the tourist 
 is freed from the annoyance of quarrelling with cheating land- 
 lords. A translation of our written contract, will best explain 
 this mode of traveling : 
 
 "Carriage for Rome. 
 
 " Our contract is, to be conducted to Rome for the sum of 
 twenty francs each, say 20f. and the huona mano, if we are 
 well served. We must have from the vetturino, Giuseppe Ner- 
 piti, supper each night, a free chamber with two beds, and fire, 
 until we shall arrive at Rome. 
 
 " I, Geronymo Sartarelli, steward of the Inn of the White 
 Cross, at Foligno, in testimony of the above contract." 
 
 Beyond Otricoli, we passed through some relics of an age an- 
 terior to Rome. A few soiled masses of masonry, black with 
 age, stood along the brow of the mountain, on whose extremity 
 were the ruins of a castle of the middle ages. We crossed the 
 Tiber on a bridge built by Augustus Caesar, and reached Bor- 
 ghetto as the sun was gilding with its last rays the ruined cit- 
 adel above. As the carriao;e with its four horses was toilinsf 
 slowly up the hill, we got out and walked before, to gaze on the 
 green meadows of the Tiber. 
 
 On descending from Narni, I noticed a high, prominent moun- 
 tain, whose ridgy back, somewhat like the profile of a face, re- 
 minded me of the Traunstein, in Upper Austria. As we ap- 
 proached, its form gradually changed, until it stood on the Cam- 
 pagna 
 
 " Like a long-swept wave about to break, 
 That ou the curl hangs pausing" — 
 
 and by that token of a great bard, I recognized Monte Soracte. 
 The dragoon took us by the arms, and away we scampered 
 
316 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 over the Campagna, with one of the loveliest sunsets before us,' 
 that ever painted itself on my retina. I cannot portray in 
 words the glory that flooded the whole western heaven. It 
 was like a sea of melted ruby, amethyst and topaz — deep, daz- 
 zling and of crystal transparency. The color changed in tone 
 every few minutes, till in half an hour it sank away before the 
 twilight to a belt of deep orange along the west. 
 
 We left Civita Castellana before daylight. The sky was red 
 with dawn as we approached Nepi, and we got out to walk, in the 
 clear, frosty air. A magnificent Roman aqueduct, part of it ;i 
 double row of arches, still supplies the town with water. 
 There is a deep ravine, appearing as if rent in the ground by 
 some convulsion, on the eastern side of the city. A clear 
 stream that steals through the arches of the aqueduct, falls in 
 a cascade of sixty feet down into the chasm, sending up constant 
 wreaths of spray through the evergreen foliage that clothes the 
 rocks. In walking over the desolate Campagna, we saw many 
 deep chambers dug in the earth, used by the charcoal burners ; 
 the air was filled with sulphureous exhalations, very offensive 
 to the smell, which rose from the ground in many places. 
 
 Miles and miles of the dreary waste, covered only with flocks 
 of grazing sheep, were passed,-^-and about noon we reached 
 Baccano, a small post station, twenty miles from Rome. A long 
 hill rose before us, and we sprang out of the carriage and ran 
 ahead, to see Rome from its summit. As we approached the top, 
 the Campagna spread far before and around us, level and blue as 
 an ocean. I climbed up a high bank by the roadside, and the 
 whole scene came in view. Perhaps eighteen miles distant rose 
 the dome of St. Peter's, near the horizon — a small spot on the 
 vast plain. Beyond it and further east, were the mountains of 
 Albano — on our left Soracte and the Appenines. and a blue line 
 along the west betrayed the Mediterranean. There was nothing 
 peculiarly beautiful or sublime in the landscape, but few other 
 scenes on earth combine in one glance such a myriad of mighty 
 associations, or bewilder the mind with such a crowd of confused 
 emotions. 
 
 As we approached Rome, the dragoon, with whom we had 
 been walking all day, became anxious and impatient. He had 
 
ENTRANCE INTO ROME. 317 
 
 not heard from his parents for a long time, and knew not if they 
 were living. His desire to be at the end of his journey finally 
 became so great, that he hailed a peasant who was driving by in 
 a light vehicle, left our slow carriage and went out of sight in a 
 gallop. 
 
 As we descended to the Tiber in the dusk of evening, the 
 domes and spires of Rome came gradually into view, St. Peter's 
 standing like a mountain in the midst of them. Crossing the yel 
 low river by the Ponte Molle, two miles of road, straight as an 
 arrow, lay before us, with the light of the Porta del Popolo at 
 the end. I felt strangely excited as the old vehicle rumbled 
 through the arch, and we entered a square with fountains and an 
 obelisk of Egyptian granite in the centre. Delivering up our 
 passports, we waited until the necessary examinations were made, 
 and then went forward. Three streets branch out from the 
 square, the middle one of which, leading directly to the Capitol, 
 is the Corso, the Roman Broadway. Our vetturino chose that 
 to the left, the Via della Scrofa, leading off towards the bridge 
 of St. Angelo. I looked out the windows as we drove along, 
 but saw nothing except butcher-shops, grocer-stores, etc. — horri- 
 ble objects for a sentimental traveler ! 
 
 Being emptied out on the pavement at last, our first care was 
 to find rooms ; after searching through many streets, with a 
 coarse old Italian who spoke like an angel, we arrived at a square 
 where the music of a fountain was heard through the dusk and 
 an obelisk cut out some of the starlight. At the other end I saw 
 a portico through the darkness, and my heart gave a breathless 
 bound on recognizing the Pantheon — the matchless temple of An- 
 cient Rome ! And now while I am writing, I hear the gush of 
 the fountain — and if I step to the window, I see the time-worn 
 but still glorious edifice. 
 
 On returning for our baggage, we met the funeral procession 
 of the Princess Altieri. Priests in white and gold carried flam- 
 ing torches, and the coffin, covered with a magnificent golden 
 pall, was borne in a splendid hearse, guarded by four priests. 
 As we were settling our account with the vetturino, who demanded 
 much more huona mano than we were willing to give, the young 
 dragoon returned. He was greatly agitated. " I have been at 
 
318 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 home !" said he, in a voice tremblins: with emotion. I was about 
 to ask him further concerning his family, but he kissed and em- 
 braced us warmly and hurriedly, saying he had only come to say 
 " addio !" and to leave us. I stop writing to ramble through 
 Rome. This city of all cities to me — this dream of my boyhood 
 — giant, god-like, fallen Rome — is around- me, and I revel in a 
 glow of anticipation and exciting thought that seems t*» change 
 my whole state of being. 
 
A DAY'S RAMBLE IN ROME. 319 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 ROME. 
 
 Dec. 29. — One day's walk through Rome — how shall I describe 
 it ? The Capitol, the Forum^ St. Peter's, the Coliseum — what few 
 hours' ramble ever took in places so hallowed by poetry, history 
 and art ? It was a golden leaf in my calendar of life. In think- 
 ing over it now, and drawing out the threads of recollection from 
 the varied woof of thought I have woven to-day, I almost wonder 
 how I dared so much at once ; but within reach of them all, how 
 was it possible to wait ? Let me give a sketch of our day's ram- 
 ble. 
 
 Hearing that it was better to visit the ruins by evening or 
 moonlight, (alas ! there is no moon now) we started out to hunt St. 
 Peter's. Going in the direction of the Corso, we passed the ruined 
 front of the magnificent Temple of Antoninus, now used as the 
 Papal Custom House. We turned to the right on entering the 
 Corso, expecting to have a view of the city from the hill at its 
 southern end. It is a magnificent street, lined with palaces and 
 splendid edifices of every kind, and always filled with crowds of 
 carriages and people. On leaving it, however, we became be- 
 wildered among the narrow streets — passed through a market of 
 vegetables, crowded with beggars and contadini — threaded many 
 by-ways between dark old buildings — saw one or two antique 
 fountains and many modern churches, and finally arrived at a 
 hill. 
 
 We ascended many steps, and then descending a little towards 
 the other side, saw suddenly below us the Roman Forum / I 
 knew it at once — and those three Corinthian columns that stood 
 near us — what could they be but the remains of the temple of 
 Jupiter Stator ? We stood on the Capitoline Hill ; at the foot was 
 the Arch of Septimus Severus, brown with age and shattered ; 
 
320 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 near it stood the majestic front of the Temple of Fortune, its pil- 
 lars of polished granite glistening in the sun, as if they had been 
 erected yesterday, while on the left the rank grass was waving 
 from the arches and mighty walls of the Palace of the Caesars ! 
 In front, ruin upon ruin lined the way for half a mile, where the 
 Coliseum towered grandly through the blue morning mist, at the 
 base of the Esquiline Hill ! 
 
 Good heavens, what a scene ! Grandeur, such as the world 
 never saw, once rose through that blue atmosphere ; splendor in- 
 conceivable, the spoils of a world, the triumphs of a thousand ar- 
 mies had passed over that earth ; minds which for ages moved 
 the ancient world had thought there, and words of power and 
 glory, from the lips of immortal men, had been syllabled on that 
 hallowed air. To call back all this on the very spot, while the 
 wreck of what once was, rose mouldering and desolate around, 
 aroused a sublimity of thought and feeling too powerful for words. 
 
 Returning at hazard through the streets, we came suddenly 
 upon the column of Trajan, standing in an excavated square be- 
 low the level of the city, amid a number of broken granite col- 
 umns, which formed part of the Forum dedicated to him by Rome, 
 after the conquest of Dacia. The column is one hundred and 
 thirty-two feet high, and entirely covered with bas-reliefs repre- 
 senting his victories, v/inding about it in a spiral line to the top. 
 The number of figures is computed at two thousand five hundred, 
 and they were of such excellence that Raphael used many of 
 them for his models. They are now much defaced, and the col- 
 umn is surmounted by a statue of some saint. The inscription 
 on the pedestal has been erased, and the name of Sixtus V. sub- 
 stituted. Nothing can exceed the ridiculous vanitv of the old 
 popes in thus mutilating the finest monuments of ancient art. 
 You cannot look upon any relic of antiquity in Rome, but your 
 eyes are assailed by the words " Pontifex Maximus," in staring 
 modern letters. Even the magnificent bronzes of the Pantheon 
 were stripped to make the baldachin under the dome of St. Peter's. 
 
 Finding our way back again, we took a fresh start, happily in 
 the right direction, and after walking some time, came out on the 
 Tiber, at the Bridge of St. Angelo. The river rolled below in 
 his muddy glory, and in front, on the opposite bank, stood " the 
 
ST. PETER'S. 321 
 
 pile which Hadrian reared on high" — now, the Castle of St. An- 
 gelo. Knowing that St. Peter's was to be seen from this bridge, 1 
 looked about in search of it. There was only one dome in sight, 
 large and of beautiful proportions. I said at once, " surely that 
 cannot be St. Peter's !" On looking again, however, I saw the top 
 of a massive range of building near it, which corresponded so 
 nearly with the pictures of the Vatican, that 1 was unwillingly 
 forced to believe the mighty dome was really before me. I re- 
 cognized it as one of those we saw from the Capitol, but it ap- 
 peared so much smaller when viewed from a greater distance, 
 that I was quite deceived. On considering we were still three- 
 fourths of a mile from it, and that we could see its minutest parts 
 distinctly, the illusion was explained. 
 
 Going directly down the Borgo Vecchio, towards it, it seemed 
 a long time before we arrived at the square of St. Peter's ; when 
 at length we stood in front with the majestic colonnade sweeping 
 around — the fountains on each side sending up their showers of 
 silvery spray — the mighty obelisk of Egyptian granite piercing 
 he sky — and beyond, the great front and dome of the Cathedral, 
 I confessed my unmingled admiration. It recalled to my mind 
 the grandeur of ancient Rome, and mighty as her edifices must 
 have been, I doubt if there were many views more overpowerino- 
 than this. The fagade of St. Peter's seemed close to us, but it 
 was a third of a mile distant, and the people ascending the steps 
 dwindled to pigmies. 
 
 I passed the obelisk, went up the long ascent, crossed the -por- 
 tico, pushed aside the heavy leathern curtain at the entrance, and 
 stood in the great nave. I need not describe my feelings at the 
 sight, but I will tell the dimensions, and you may then fancy 
 what they were. Before me was a marble plain six hundred 
 feet long, and under the cross four hundred and seventeen feet 
 wide ! One hundred and fifty feet above, sprang a glorious arch, 
 dazzling with inlaid gold, and in the centre of the cross there 
 were four hundred feet of air between me and the top of the dome ! 
 The sunbeam, stealing through the lofty window at one end of 
 the transept, made a bar ot light on the blue air, hazy with in- 
 cense, one-tenth of a mile long, before it fell on the mosaics and 
 gilded shrines of the other extremity. The grand cupola alone, 
 
 15* 
 
322 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 including lantern and cross, is two hundred and eighty-five feet 
 high, or sixty feet higher than the Bunker Hill Monument, and 
 the four immense pillars on which it rests are each one hundred 
 and thirty-seven feet in circumference ! It seems as if human 
 art had outdone itself in producing this temple — the grandest 
 which the world ever erected for the worship of the Living God ! 
 The awe felt in looking up at the giant arch of marble and gold, 
 did not humble me ; on the contrary, I felt exalted, ennobled — 
 beings in the form I wore planned the glorious edifice, and it 
 seemed that in godlike power and perseverance, they were in- 
 deed but " a little lower than the angels !" I felt that, if fallen, 
 my race was still mighty and immortal. 
 
 The Vatican is only open twice a week, on days which are not 
 festas; most fortunately, to-day happened to be one of these, and 
 we took a run through its endless halls. The extent and magni- 
 ficence of the gallery of sculpture is perfectly amazing. The 
 halls, which are filled to overflowing with the finest works of an- 
 cient art, would, if placed side by side, make a row more than 
 two miles in length ! You enter at once into a hall of marble, 
 with a magnificent arched ceiling, a third of a mile long ; the 
 sides are covered for a great distance with inscriptions of every 
 kind, divided into compartments according to the era of the em- 
 pire to which they refer. One which I examined, appeared to 
 be a kind of index of the roads in Italy, with the towns on them ; 
 and we could decipher on that time-worn block, the very route I 
 had followed from Florence hither. 
 
 Then came the statues, and here I am bewildered, how to de- 
 scribe them. Hundicds upon hundreds of figures — statues of 
 citizens, generals, emperors and gods — fauns, satyrs and nymphs 
 — children, cupids and tritons — in fact, it seemed inexhaustible. 
 Many of them, too, were forms of matchless beauty ; there were 
 Venuses and nymphs, born of the loftiest dreams of grace ; fiiuns 
 on whose faces shone the very soul of humor, and heroes and di- 
 vinities with an air of majesty worthy the " land of lost gods and 
 ffodlike men !" 
 
 I am lost in astonishment at the perfection of art attained by 
 the Greeks and Romans. There is scarcely a form of beauty, 
 that has ever met my eye, which is not to be found in this gallery. 
 
GALLERY OF THE VITICAN. 323 
 
 I should almost despair of such another blaze of glory on the 
 Morld, were it not my devout belief that what has been done may 
 be done again, and had I not faith that the dawn in which we 
 live will bring another day equally glorious. And why should 
 not America, with the experience and added wisdom which three 
 thousand years have slowly yielded to the old world, joined to 
 the giant energy of her youth and freedom, re-bestow on the 
 world the divine creations of art ? Let Powers answer ! 
 
 But let us step on to the hemicycle of the Belvidere, and view 
 some works greater than any we have yet seen, or even imagined. 
 The adjoining gallery is filled with masterpieces of sculpture, 
 but we will keep our eyes unwearied and merely glance along 
 the rows. At length we reach a circular court with a fountain 
 flinging up its waters in the centre. Before us is an open cabi- 
 net ; there is a beautiful, manly form within, but you would not 
 for an instant take it for the Apollo. By the Gorgon head it 
 holds aloft, we recognize Canova's Perseus — he has copied the 
 form and attitude of the Apollo, but he could not breathe into it 
 the same warming fire. It seemed to me particularly lifeless, 
 and I greatly preferred his Boxers, who stand on either side of ii. 
 One, who has drawn back in the attitude of striking, looks as if 
 he could fell an ox with a single blow of his powerful arm. The 
 other is a more lithe and agile figure, and there is a quick fire 
 in his countenance which might overbalance the massive strength 
 of his opponent. 
 
 Another cabinet — this is the far-famed Antinous. A counte- 
 nance of perfect Grecian beauty, with a form such as we would 
 imagine for one of Homer's heroes. His features are in repose, 
 and there is something iti their calm, settled expression, strikingly 
 like life. 
 
 Now we look on a scene of the deepest physical agony. Mark 
 how every muscle of old Laocoon's body is distended to the utmost 
 in the mighty struggle ! What intensity of pain in the quivering, 
 distorted features ! Every nerve, which despair can call into ac- 
 tion, is excited in one giant effort, and a scream of anguish seems 
 just to have quivered on those marble lips. The serpents have 
 rolled their strano-ling coils around father and sons, but terror has 
 taken away the strength of the latter, and they make but feeble 
 
324 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 resistance. After looking with indifference on tiie many casts of 
 this group, I was the more moved by the magnificent original. 
 It deserves all the admiration that has been heaped sipon it. 
 
 I absolutely trembled on approaching the cabinet of the Apollo. 
 I had built up in fancy a glorious ideal, drawn from all that bards 
 have sung or artists have rhapsodized about its divine beauty. I 
 feared disappointment — I dreaded to have my ideal displaced and 
 my faith in the power of human genius overthrown by a form 
 less than perfect. However, with a feeling of desperate excite- 
 ment, I entered and looked upon it. 
 
 Now what shall I say of it ? How make you comprehend its 
 immortal beauty ? To what shall I liken its glorious perfection 
 of form, or the fire that imbues the cold marble with the soul of a 
 god ? Not with sculpture, for it stands alone and above all other 
 works of art — nor with men, for il has a majesty more than hu- 
 man. I gazed on it, lost in wonder and joy — joy that I could, at 
 last, take into my mind a faultless ideal of godlike, exalted man- 
 hood. The figure appears actually to possess a spirit, and I 
 looked on it, not as on a piece of marble, but a being of loftier 
 mould, and half expected to see him step forward when the arrow 
 had reached its mark. I would give worlds to feel one moment 
 the sculptor's mental triumph when his work was completed ; 
 that one exulting thrill must have repaid him for every ill he 
 might have suffered on earth ! With what divine inspiration has 
 he wrought its faultless lines ! There is a spirit in every limb 
 which mere toil could not have given. It must have been caught 
 in those lofty moments 
 
 " When each conception was a heavenly guest — 
 A ray of inimortality — and stood 
 Star-like, around, until they gathered to a god ?" 
 
 We ran through a series of halls, roofed with golden stars on 
 a deep blue, midnight sky, and filled with porphyry vases, black 
 marble gods, and mummies. Some of the statues shone with the 
 matchless polish they had received from a Theban artisan before 
 Athens was founded, and are, apparently, as fresh and perfect as 
 when looked upon by the vassals of Sesostris. Notwithstanding 
 their stiff, rough-hewn limbs, there were some figures of great 
 
NEW YEAR IN ROME. 225 
 
 ^ ' ~   '   I ■— I — — -- — -'■   ' -■■■   - .   M 
 
 beauty, and they gave nie a much higher idea of Egyptian sculp- 
 ture. In an adjoining hall, containing colossal busts of the gods, 
 is a vase forty-one feet in circumference, of one solid block of red 
 porphyry. 
 
 The " Transfiguration" is truly called the first picture in the 
 world. The same glow of inspiration which created the Belvi- 
 dere, must have been required to paint the Saviour's aerial form. 
 The three figures hover above the earth in a blaze of glory, seem- 
 ingly mdependent of all material laws. The terrified Apostles 
 on the mount, and the wondering group below, correspond in the 
 grandeur of their expression to the awe and majesty of the scene. 
 The only blemish in the sublime perfection of the picture is the 
 introduction of the two small figures on the left hand ; who, by-. 
 the-bye, were Cardinals, inserted there hy command. Some 
 travelers say the color is all lost, but I was agreeably surprised 
 to find it well preserved. It is, undoubtedly, somewhat imperfect 
 in this respect, as Raphael died before it was entirely finished ; 
 but " take it all in all," you may search the world in vain to find 
 its equal. 
 
 January 1, 1846. — New Year's Day in the Eternal City ! It 
 will be something to say in after years, that I have seen one 
 year open in Rome — that, while my distant friends were making 
 up for the winter without, with good cheer around the merry 
 board, I have walked in sunshine by the ruins of the Coliseum, 
 watched the orange groves gleaming with golden fruitage in the 
 Farnese gardens, trodden the daisied meadow around the sepul- 
 chre of Caius Cestius, and mused by the graves of Shelley, 
 Keats and Salvator Rosa ! The Palace of the Caesars looked even 
 more mournful in the pale, slant sunshine, and the yellow Tiber, 
 as he flowed through the " marble wilderness," seemed sullenly 
 counting up the long centuries during which degenerate slaves 
 have trodden his banks. A leaden -colored haze clothed the seven 
 hills, and heavy silence reigned among the ruins, for all work 
 was prohibited, and the people were gathered in their churches. 
 Rome never appeared so desolate and melancholy as to-day. 
 
 In the morninor I climbed the Quirinal Hill, now called Monte 
 Cavallo, from the colossal statues of Castor and Pollux, with their 
 steeds, supposed to be the work of Phidias and Praxiteles. They 
 
326 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 stand on each side of an obelisk of Egyptian granite, beside which 
 a strong stream of water gushes up into a magnificent bronze 
 basin, found in the old Forum. The statues, entirely browned by 
 age, are considered masterpieces of Grecian art, and whether 
 or not from the great masters, show in all their proportions, the 
 conceptions of lofty genius. 
 
 We kept on our way between gardens filled with orange groves, 
 whose glowing fruit reminded me of Mignon's beautiful reminis- 
 cence — " Im dunkeln Laub die Gold Orangen gliihn !" Rome, 
 although subject to cold winds from the Appenines, enjoys so 
 mild a climate that oranges and palm trees grow in the open air, 
 without protection. Daisies and violets bloom the whole winter, 
 in the meadows of never-fading green. The basilic of the Lat- 
 eran equals St. Peter's in splendor, though its size is much small- 
 er. The walls are covered with gorgeous hangings of velvet 
 embroidered with gold, and before the high altar, which glitters 
 with precious stones, are four pillars of gilt bronze, said to be 
 those which Augustus made of the spars of Egyptian vessels 
 captured at the battle of Actium. 
 
 We descended the hill to the Coliseum, and passing under the 
 Arch of Constantine, walked along the ancient triumphal way, at 
 the foot of the Palatine Hill, which is entirely covered with the 
 ruins of the Csesars' Palace. A road, rounding its southern base 
 towards the Tiber, brought us to the Temple of Vesta — a beau- 
 tiful little relic which has been singularly spared by the devasta- 
 tions that have overthrown so many mightier fabrics. It is of 
 circular form, surrounded by nineteen Corinthian columns, thir- 
 ty-six feet in height ; a clumsy tiled roof now takes the place of 
 the elegant cornice which once gave the crowning charm to its 
 perfect proportions. Close at hand are the remains of the temple 
 of Fortuna Virilis, of which some Ionic pillars alone are left, and 
 the house of Cola di Rienzi — the last Tribune of Rome. 
 
 As we approached the walls, the sepulchre of Caius Cestius 
 came in sight — a single solid pyramid, one hundred feet in height. 
 The walls are built against it, and the light apex rises far above 
 the massive gate beside it, which was erected by Belisarius. But 
 there were other tombs at hand, for which we had more sympa- 
 
GRAVES OF SHELLEY AND KEATS. 327 
 
 thy than that of the forgotten Roman, and we turned away to 
 look, for the graves of Shelley and Keats. 
 
 They lie in the Protestant burying ground, on the side of a 
 mound that slopes gently up to the old wall of Rome, beside the 
 pyramid of Cestius. The meadow around is still verdant and 
 sown thick with daisies, and the soft green of the Italian pine 
 mingles with the dark cypress above the slumberers. Huge 
 aloes grow in the shade, and the sweet bay and bushes of rose- 
 mary make the air fresh and fragrant. There is a solemn, 
 mournful beauty about the place, green and lonely as it is, beside 
 the tottering walls of ancient Rome, that takes away the gloomy 
 associations of death, and makes one wish to lie there, too, when 
 his thread shall be spun to the end. 
 
 We found first the simple head-stone of Keats, alone, in the 
 grassy meadow. Its inscription states that on his death-bed, in 
 the bitterness of his heart, at the malice of his enemies, he de- 
 sired these words to be written on his tombstone : '^'^ Here lies one 
 whose name was written in water.^^ Not far from him reposes the 
 son of Shelley. 
 
 Shelley himself lies at the top of the shaded slope, in a lonely 
 spot by the wall, surrounded by tall cypresses. A little hedge 
 of rose and bay surrounds his grave, which bears the simple in- 
 scription — " Percy Bysshe Shelley ; Cor Cordium." 
 
 " Nothing of him that cloth fade, 
 But doth suflPer a sea-change 
 Into something rich and strange." 
 
 Glorious, but misguided Shelley ! He sleeps calmly now in 
 that silent nook, and the air around his grave is filled with siorhs 
 from those who mourn that the bright, erratic star should have 
 been blotted out ere it reached the zenith of its mountinor fame. 
 I plucked a leaf from the fragrant bay, as a token of his fame, 
 and a sprig of cypress from the bough that bent lowest over his 
 grave ; and passing between tombs shaded with blooming roses 
 or covered with unwithered garlands, left the lovely spot. 
 
 Amid the excitement of continually changing scenes, I have 
 forgotten to mention our first visit to the Coliseum. The day 
 
328 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 after our arrival we set out v/ith two English friends, to see it by 
 sunset. Passing by the glorious fountain of Trevi, we made our 
 way to the Forum, and from thence took the road to the Coliseum, 
 lined on both sides with the remains of splendid edifices. The 
 grass-grown ruins of the Palace of the Caesars stretched along on 
 our right ; on our left we passed in succession the granite front 
 of the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, the three grand arches 
 of the Temple of Peace and the ruins of the Temple of Venus 
 and Rome. We went under the ruined triumphal arch of Titus, 
 with broken friezes representing the taking of Jerusalem, and the 
 mighty walls of the Coliseum gradually rose before us. They 
 grew in grandeur as we approached them, and when at length we 
 stood in the centre, with the shattered arches and grassy walls 
 rising above and beyond one another, far around us, the red light 
 of sunset giving them a soft and melancholy beauty, I was fain 
 to confess that another form of grandeur had entered my mind, 
 of which I before knew not. 
 
 A majesty like that of nature clothes this wonderful edifice. 
 Walls rise above walls, and arches above arches, from every side 
 of the grand arena, like a sweep of craggy, pinnacled mountains 
 around an oval lake. The two outer circles have almost entirely 
 disappeared, torn away by the rapacious nobles of Rome, during 
 the middle ages, to build their palaces. When entire, and filled 
 with its hundred thousand spectators, it must have exceeded any 
 pageant which the world can now produce. No wonder it was 
 said — 
 
 " While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand ; 
 When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; 
 And when Rome falls, the world !" 
 
 — a prediction, which time has not verified. The world is now 
 going forward, prouder than ever, and though we thank Rome 
 for the legacy she has left us, we would not wish the dust of her 
 ruin to cumber our path. 
 
 While standing in the arena, impressed with the spirit of the 
 scene around me, which grew more spectral and melancholy as 
 the dusk of evening began to fill up the broken arches, my eye 
 was assailed by the shrines ranged around the space, doubtless to 
 
THE RUINS OF ROME. 329 
 
 remove the pollution of paganism. In the middle stands also a 
 cross, with an inscription, granting an absolution of forty days to 
 all who kiss it. Now, although a simple cross in the centre might 
 be very appropriate, both as a token of the heroic devotion of the 
 martyr Telemachus and the triumph of a true religion over the 
 barbarities of the Past, this congregation of shrines and bloody 
 pictures mars very much the unity of association so necessary to 
 the perfect enjoyment of any such scene. 
 
 We saw the flush of sunset fade behind the Capitoline Hill, 
 and passed homeward by the Forum, as its shattered pillars were 
 growing solemn and spectral through the twilight. I intend to 
 visit them often again, and " meditate amongst decay." I begin 
 already to grow attached to their lonely grandeur. A spirit, al- 
 most human, speaks from the desolation, and there is something 
 in the voiceless oracles it utters, that strikes an answering chord 
 in my own breast. 
 
 In the Via de^ Poniefici, not far distant fiom the Borghese Pa- 
 lace, we saw the Mausoleum of Augustus. It is a large circular 
 structure somewhat after the plan of that of Hadrian, but on a 
 much smaller scale. The interior has been cleared out, seats 
 erected around the walls, and the whole is now a summer theatre, 
 for the amusement of the peasantry and tradesmen. What a com- 
 mentary on greatness ! Harlequin playing his pranks in the 
 tomb of an Emperor, and the spot which nations approached with 
 reverence, resoundinsr with the mirth of beggrars and des^raded 
 
 ' O Do O 
 
 vassals ! 
 
 I visited lately the studio of a young Philadelphian, Mr. W. 
 B. Chambers, who has been here two or three years. In study- 
 ing the legacies of art which the old masters left to their coun- 
 
 o o 
 
 try, he has caught some of the genuine poetic inspiration which 
 warmed them. But he is modest as talented, and appears to un- 
 dervalue his works, so long as they do not reach his own mental 
 ideal. He chooses principally subjects from the Italian peasant- 
 life, which abounds with picturesque and classic beauty. His 
 pictures of the shepherd boy of the Albruzzi, and the brown 
 maidens of the Campagna are fine illustrations of this class, and 
 the fidelity with which he copies nature, is an earnest of his fu- 
 ture success. 
 
*?30 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 I was in the studio of Crawford, the sculptor ; he has at pre- 
 sent nothing finished in the marble. There were many casts of 
 his former works, which, judging from their appearance in plas- 
 ter, must be of no common excellence — for the sculptor can only 
 be justly judged in marile. I saw some fine bas-reliefs of classi- 
 cal subjects, and an exquisite group of Mercury and Psyche, but 
 his masterpiece is undoubtedly the Orpheus. There is a spirit 
 in this figure which astonished me. The face is full of the inspi- 
 ration of the poet, softened by the lover's tenderness, and the 
 whole fervor of his soul is expressed in the eagerness with which 
 he gazes forward, on stepping past the sleeping Cerberus. Craw- 
 ford is now engaged on the statue of an Indian girl, pierced by 
 an arrow, and dying. It is a simple and touching figure, and 
 will, I think, be one of his best works. 
 
 We are often amused with the groups in the square of the Pan- 
 theon, which we can see from our chamber-window. Shoemakers 
 and tinkers carry on their business along the sunny side, while 
 the venders of oranges and roasted chesnuts form a circle around 
 the Egyptian obelisk and fountain. Across the end of an opposite 
 street we get a glimpse of the vegetable-market, and now and then 
 the shrill voice of a pedlar makes its nasal solo audible above the 
 confused chorus. As the beggars choose the Corso, St. Peter's, 
 and the ruins for their principal haunts, we are now spared the 
 hearing of their lamentations. Every time we go out we are as- 
 sailed with them. ^' Maladetta sia la vostra testa f^' — "Curses 
 be upon your head !" — said one whom I passed without notice. 
 The priests are, however, the greatest beggars. In every church 
 are kept offering boxes, for the support of the church or some un- 
 known institution ; they even go from house to house, imploring 
 support and assistance in the name of the Virgin and all the saints, 
 while their bloated, sensual countenances and capacious frames 
 tell of anything but fasts and privations. Once, as I was sitting 
 among the ruins, I was suddenly startled by a loud, rattling sound ; 
 turning my head. I saw a figure clothed in white from head to 
 foot, with only two small holes for the eyes. He held in his hand 
 a money-box, on which was a figure of the Virgin, which he held 
 close to my lips, that I might kiss it. This I declined doing, but 
 
A ROMAN INN. 331 
 
 dropped a baiocco into his box, when, making the sign of the 
 cross, he silently disappeared. 
 
 Our present lodging (Trattoria del Sole) is a good specimen of 
 an Italian inn for mechanics and common tradesmen. Passing 
 through the front room, which is an eating-place for the common 
 people — with a barrel of wine in the corner, and bladders of lard 
 hanging among orange boughs in the window — we enter a dark 
 court-yard filled with heavy carts, and noisy with the neighing of 
 horses and singing of grooms, for the stables occupy part of the 
 house. An open staircase, running all around this hollow square, 
 leads to the second, third, and fourth stories. 
 
 On the second story is the dining-room for the better class of 
 travelers, who receive the same provisions as those below for 
 double the price, and the additional privilege of giving the waiter 
 two baiocchi. The sleeping apartments are in the fourth story, 
 and are named according to the fancy of a former landlord, in 
 mottos above each door. Thus, on arriving here, the Triester, 
 with his wife and child, more fortunate than our first parents, took 
 refuge in " Paradise," while we Americans were ushered into the 
 "Chamber of Jove." We have occupied it ever since, and find 
 a paul (ten cents) apiece cheap enough for a good bed and a win- 
 dow opening on the Pantheon. 
 
 Next to the Coliseum, the baths of Caracalla are the grandest 
 remains of Rome. The building is a thousand feet square, and 
 its massive walls look as if built by a race of giants. These 
 Titan remains are covered with green shrubbery, and long, trail- 
 ing vines sweep over the cornice, and wave down like tresses 
 from architrave and arch. In some of its grand halls the mosaic 
 pavement is yet entire. The excavations are still carried on ; 
 from the number of statues already found, this would seem to 
 have been one of the most gorgeous edifices of the olden time. 
 
 I have been now several days loitering and sketching among 
 the ruins, and I feel as if I could willingly wander for months be- 
 side these mournful relics, and draw inspiration from the lofty 
 yet melancholy lore they teach. There is a spirit haunting them, 
 real and undoubted. Every shattered column, every broken 
 arch and mouldering wall, but calls up more vividly to mind the 
 glory that has passed away. Each lonely pillar stands as proudly 
 
332 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 as if it still helped to bear up the front of a glorious temple, and 
 the air seems scarcely to have ceased vibrating with the clarions 
 that heralded a conqueror's triumph. 
 
 ■' the old majestic trees 
 
 Stand ghost-like in the Coesar's home, 
 
 As if their conscious roots were set 
 In the old graves of giant Rome, 
 
 And drew their sap all kingly yet !" 
 
 .A£. M, ^^ .A{> >k* 
 
 •TT '7V' "TT -Tr T^ 
 
 " There every mouldering stone beneath 
 
 Is broken from some mighty thought, 
 And sculptures in the dust still breathe 
 
 The fire with which their lines were wrought. 
 And sunder'd arch and plundered tomb 
 Still thunder back the echo — ' RomeP " 
 
 In Rome there is no need that the imagination be excited to 
 call up thrilling emotion or poetic reverie — they are forced on 
 the mind by the sublime spirit of the scene. The roused bard 
 might here pour forth his thoughts in the wildest climaces, and I 
 could believe he felt it all. This is like the Italy of my dreams 
 — that golden realm whose image has been nearly chased away 
 by the earthly reality. I expected to find a land of light and 
 beauty, where every step crushed a flower or displaced a sun- 
 beam — whose very air was poetic inspiration, and whose every 
 scene filled the soul with romantic feelings. Nothing is left of 
 my picture but the far-off mountains, robed in the sapphire veil 
 of the Ausonian air, and these ruins, amid whose fallen glory sits 
 triumphant the spirit of ancient song. 
 
 I have seen the flush of morn and eve rest on the Coliseum ; I 
 have seen the noon-day sky framed in its broken loopholes, like 
 plates of polished sapphire ; and last night, as the moon has 
 grown into the zenith, I went to view it with her. Around the 
 Forum all was silent and spectral — a sentinel challenged us at 
 the Arch of Titus, under which we passed and along the Ccesar's 
 wall, which lay in black shadow. Dead stillness brooded around 
 the Coliseum ; the pale, silvery lustre streamed through its arch- 
 es, and over the grassy walls, giving them a look of shadowy 
 grandeur which day could not bestow. The scene will remain 
 fresh in my memory forever. 
 
THE CAMPAGNA. 333 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 TIVOLI AND THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA. 
 
 Jan. 9. — A few days ago we returned from an excursion to 
 Tivoli, one of the loveliest spots in Italy. We left the Eternal 
 City by the Gate of San Lorenzo, and twenty minutes walk 
 brought us to the bare and bleak Campagna, which was spread 
 around us for leagues in every direction. Here and there a 
 shepherd-boy in his woolly coat, with his flock of browsing sheep, 
 were the only objects that broke its desert-like monotony. 
 
 At the fourth mile we crossed the rapid Anio, the ancient Teve- 
 rone, formerly the boundary between Latium and the Sabine do- 
 minions, and at the tenth, came upon some fragments of the old 
 Tiburtine way, formed of large irregular blocks of basaltic lava. 
 A short distance further, we saw across the plain the ruins of the 
 bath of Agrippa, built by the side of the Tartarean Lake. The 
 wind, blowing from it, bore us an overpowering smell of sulphur ; 
 the waters of the little river Solfatara, which crosses the road, 
 are of a milky blue color, and carry those of the lake into the 
 Anio. A fragment of the old brido:e over it still remains. 
 
 Finding the water quite warm, we determined to have a bath. 
 So we ran down the plain, which was covered with a thick coat 
 of sulphur, and sounded hollow to our tread, till we reached a 
 convenient place, where we threw otf our clothes, and plunged 
 in. The warm wave was delightful to the skin, but extremely 
 offensive to the smell, and when we came out, our mouths and 
 throats were filled with the stifling gas. 
 
 It was growing dark as we mounted through the narrow streets 
 of Tivoli, but we endeavored to gain some sight of the renowned 
 beauties of the spot, before going to rest. From a platform on a 
 brow of the hill, we looked down into the defile, at whose bottom 
 the Anio was roaring, and caught a sideward glance of the Cas- 
 
334 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 catelles, sending up their spray amid the evergreen bushes that 
 fringe the rocks. Above the deep glen that curves into the 
 mountain, stands the beautiful temple ot the Sybil — a building 
 of the most perfect and graceful proportion. It crests the " rocky 
 brow" like a fairy dwelling, and looks all the lovelier for the 
 wild caverns below. Gazing downward from the bridge, one 
 sees the waters of the Anio tumbling into the picturesque grotto 
 of the Sirens ; around a rugged corner, a cloud of white spray 
 v/hirls up continually, while the boom of a cataract rumbles down 
 the glen. All these we marked in the deepening dusk, and then 
 hunted an albergo. 
 
 The shrill-voiced hostess gave us a good supper and cleai 
 beds ; in return we diverted the people ver) much by the relatioi 
 of our sulphur bath. We were awakened in the night by tht 
 wind shaking the very soul out of our loose casement. I fancieo 
 I heard torrents of rain dashing against the panes, and groanea 
 in bitterness of spirit on thinking of a walk back to Rome in such 
 weather. When morning came, we found it was only a hurri- 
 cane of wind which was strong enough to tear off pieces of the 
 old roofs. I saw some capuchins nearly overturned in crossing 
 the square, by the wind seizing their white robes. 
 
 I had my fingers frozen and my eyes filled with sand, in trying 
 to draw the Sybil's temple, and therefore left it to join my com- 
 panions, who had gone down into the glen to see the great cas- 
 cade. The Anio bursts out of a cavern in the mountain-side, 
 and like a prisoner giddy with recovered liberty, reels over the 
 edge of a precipice more than two hundred feet deep. The bot- 
 tom is hid in a cloud of boiling spray, that shifts from side to 
 side, and driven by the wind, sweeps whistling down the narrow 
 pass. It stuns the ear with a perpetual boom, giving a dash of 
 grandeur to the enrapturing beauty of the scene. I tried a foot- 
 path that appeared to lead down to the Cascatelles, but after ad- 
 vancing some distance along the side of an almost perpendicular 
 precipice, I came to a corner that looked so dangerous, especially 
 as the wind was nearly strong enough to carry me off, that it 
 seemed safest to return. We made another vain attempt to 
 get down, by creeping along the bed of a torrent, filled with bri- 
 ars. The Cascatelles are formed by that part of the Anio, which 
 
THE DYING GLADIATOR. 335 
 
 is used in the iron works, made out of the ruins of Mecsenas' 
 villa. They gush out from under the ancient arches, and tum- 
 ble more than a hundred feet down the precipice, their white 
 waters gleaming out from the dark and feathery foliage. Not far 
 distant are the remahis of the villa of Horace. 
 
 We took the road to Frascati, and walked for miles among 
 cane-swamps and over plains covered with sheep. The people 
 we saw, were most degraded and ferocious-looking, and there 
 were many I would not willingly meet alone after nightfall. In- 
 deed it is still considered quite unsafe to venture without the 
 walls of Rome, after dark. The women, with their yellow com- 
 plexions, and the bright red blankets they wear folded around the 
 head and shoulders, resemble Indian Squaws. 
 
 I lately spent three hours in the Museum of the Capitol, on the 
 summit of the sacred hill. In the hall of the Gladiator I noticed 
 an exquisite statue of Diana. There is a pure, virgin grace in 
 the classic outlines of the figure that keeps the eye long upon it. 
 The face is full of cold, majestic dignity, but it is the ideal of a 
 being to be worshipped, rather than loved. The Faun of Praxi- 
 teles, in the same room, is a glorious work ; it is the perfect em- 
 bodiment of that wild, merry race the Grecian poets dreamed of. 
 One looks on the Gladiator with a hushed breath and an awed 
 spirit. He is dying ; the blood flows more slowly from the deep 
 wound in his side ; his head is sinking downwards, and the arm 
 that supports his body becomes more and more nerveless. You 
 feel that a dull mist is coming over his vision, and almost wait to 
 see his relaxing limbs sink suddenly on his shield. That the rude, 
 barbarian form has a soul, may be read in his touchingly ex- 
 pressive countenance. It warms the sympathies like reality to 
 look upon it. Yet how maviy Romans may have gazed on this 
 work, moved nearly to tears, who have seen hundreds perish in 
 the arena without a pitying emotion ! Why is it that Art has a 
 voice frequently more powerful than Nature ? 
 
 How cold it is here ! I was forced to run home to-night, nearly 
 at full speed, from the Cafe delle Belle Arti through the Corso 
 and the Piazza Colonna, to keep warm. The clear, frosty moon 
 threw the shadow of the column of Antoninus over me as I passed, 
 and it made me shiver to look at the thin, falling sheet of the 
 
336 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 fountain. Winter is winter everywhere, and even the sun of 
 Italy cannot always scorch his icy wings. 
 
 Two days ago we took a ramble outside the walls. Passing 
 the Coliseum and Caracalla's Baths, we reached the tomb of Sci- 
 pio, a small sepulchral vault, near the roadside. The ashes of 
 the warrior were scattered to the winds long ago, and his mauso- 
 leum is fast falling to decay. The old arch over the Appian way 
 is still standing, near the modern Porta San Sehastiano through 
 which we entered on the far-famed road. Here and there it is 
 quite entire, and we walked over the stones once worn by the feet 
 of Virgil and Horace and Cicero. After passing the temple of 
 Romulus — a shapeless and ivy-grown ruin — and walking a mile 
 or more beyond the walls, we reached the Circus of Caracalla, 
 whose long and shattered walls fill the hollow of one of the little 
 dells of the Campagna. The original structure must have been 
 of great size and splendor, but those twin Vandals — Time and 
 Avarice — have stripped away everything but the lofty brick 
 masses, whose nakedness the pitying ivy strives to cover. 
 
 Further, on a gentle slope, is the tomb of " the wealthiest Ro- 
 man's wife," familiar to every one through Childe Harold's 
 musings. It is a round, massive tower, faced with large blocks of 
 marble, and still bearing the name of Cecilia Metella. One side 
 is much ruined, and the top is overgrown with grass and wild 
 bushes. The wall is about thirty feet thick, so that but a small 
 round space is left in the interior, which is open to the rain and 
 filled with rubbish. The echoes pronounced hollowly after us 
 the name of the dead for whom it was built, but thev could tell 
 us nothing of her life's history — 
 
 " How lived, how loved, how died she ?" 
 
 I made a hunied drawing of it. and we then turned to the left, 
 across the Campagna, to seek the grotto of Egeria. Before us, 
 across the brown plain, extended the Sabine Mountains ; in the 
 clear air the houses of Tivoli, twenty miles distant, were plainly 
 visible. The giant aqueduct stretched in a long line across the 
 Campagna to the mountain of Albano, its broken and disjointed 
 arches resembling the vertebra3 of some miglity monster. With 
 
GROTTO OF EGERIA. 337 
 
 the ruins of temples and tombs strewing the plain for miles around 
 it, it might be called the spine to the skeleton of Rome. 
 
 We passed many ruins, made beautiful by the clinging ivy, 
 and reached a solemn grove of ever-green oak, overlooking a se- 
 cluded valley. I was soon in the meadow, leaping ditches, rust- 
 ling through cane-brakes, and climbing up to mossy arches to find 
 out the fountain of Numa's nymph ; while my companion, who 
 had less taste for the romantic, looked on complacently from the 
 leeward side of the hill. At length we found an arched vault in 
 the hill-side, overhung with wild vines, and shaded in summer by 
 umbrageous trees that grow on the soil above. At the further 
 end a stream of water gushed out from beneath a broken statue, 
 and an aperture in the wall revealed a dark cavern behind. This, 
 then, was " Egeria's grot." The ground was trampled by the 
 feet of cattle, and the taste of the water was anything but plea- 
 sant. But it was not for Numa and his nymph alone, that I 
 sought it so ardently. The sunbeam of another mind lingers on 
 the spot. See how it gilds the ruined and neglected fount ' 
 
 " The mosses of tliy fountain still are sprinkled 
 
 With thine Elysian water-drops ; the face 
 Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled. 
 
 Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place, 
 Whose wild, green margin, now no more erase 
 
 Art's works ; no more its sparkling waters sleep, 
 Prisoned in marble ; bubbling from the base 
 
 Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap, 
 The rill runs o'er, and 'round, fern, flowers and ivy creep, 
 
 Fantastically tangled." 
 
 I tried to creep into the grotto, but it was unpleasantly dark, 
 and no nymph appeared to chase away the shadow with her lus- 
 trous eyes. The whole hill is pierced by subterranean cham- 
 bers and passages. 
 
 I spent another Sunday morning in St. Peter's. High mas 
 was being celebrated in one of the side Chapels, and a great num- 
 ber of the priesthood were present. The music was simple, sol- 
 emn, and very impressive, and a fine effect was produced by the 
 combination of the full, sonorous voices of the priests, and the 
 divine sweetness of that band of mutilated unfortunates, who sing 
 
 16 
 
338 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 here. They sang with a full, clear tone, sweet as the first lisp- 
 ings of a child, but it was painful to hear that melody, purchased 
 at the expense of manhood. 
 
 Near the dome is a bronze statue of St. Peter, which seems to 
 have a peculiar atmosphere of sanctity. People say their prayers 
 before it by hundreds, and then kiss its toe, which is nearly worn 
 away by the application of so many thousand lips. I saw a 
 crowd struggle most irreverently to pay their devotion to it. 
 There was a great deal of jostling and confusion ; some went so 
 far as to thrust the faces of others against the toe as they were 
 about to kiss it. What is more remarkable, it is an antique statue 
 of Jupiter, taken, I believe, t'l'om the Pantheon. An English ar- 
 tist, showing it to a friend, just arrived in Rome, remarked very 
 wittily that it was the statue of Jew-Peter. 
 
 I went afterwards to the Villa Borghese, outside the Porta del 
 Popolo. The gardens occupy thirty or forty acres, and are al- 
 ways thronged in the afternoon with the carriages of the Roman 
 and foreign nobility. In summer, it must be a heavenly place ; 
 even now, with its musical fountams, long avenues, and grassy 
 slopes, crowned with the fan-like branches of the Italian pine, it 
 reminds one of the fairy landscapes of Boccaccio. We threaded 
 our way through the press of carriages on the Pincian hill, and 
 saw the enormous bulk of St. Peter's loom up against the sunset 
 sky. I counted forty domes and spires in that part of Rome 
 that lay below us — but on what a marble glory looked that sun 
 eighteen centuries ago! Modern Rome — it is in comparison, a 
 den of filth, cheats and beggars ! 
 
 Yesterday, while taking a random stroll through the city, I 
 visited the church of St. Onofrio, where Tasso is buried. It is 
 not far from St. Peter's, on the summit of a lonely hill. The 
 building was closed, but an old monk admitted us on application. 
 The interior is quite small, but very old, and the floor is covered 
 with the tombs of princes and prelates of a past century. Near 
 the end I found a small slab with the inscription : 
 
 " TORQUATI TASSl 
 
 OSSA 
 
 HIC JACENT." 
 
THE AMERICAN CONSUL. 339 
 
 That was all — but what more was needed ? Who knows not the 
 name and fame and sufferings of the glorious bard ? The pomp 
 of gold and marble are not needed to deck the slumber of genius. 
 On the wall, above, hangs an old and authentic portrait of him, 
 very similar to the engravings in circulation. A crown of laurel 
 encircles the lofty brow, and the eye has that wild, mournful ex- 
 pression, which accords so well with the mysterious tale of his 
 love and madness. 
 
 Owing to the mountain storms, which imposed on us the ex- 
 pense of a carriage-journey to Rome, we shall be prevented from 
 going further. One great cause of this is the heavy fee required 
 for passports in Italy. In most of the Italian cities, the cost of 
 the different vises amounts to 84 or 85 ; a few such visits as 
 these reduce our funds very materially. The American Con- 
 sul's fee is 82, owing to the illiberal course of our government, 
 in withholding all salary from her Consuls in Europe. Mr. 
 Brown, however, in whose family we spent last evening very 
 pleasantly, on our requesting that he would deduct something 
 from the usual fee, kindly declined accepting anything. We felt 
 this kindness the more, as from the character which some of our 
 late Consuls bear in Italy, we had not anticipated it. We shall 
 remember him with deeper gratitude than many would suppose, 
 who have never known what it was to be a foreigner. 
 
 To-morrow, therefore, we leave Rome — here is, at last, the 
 limit of our wanderings. We have spent much toil and privation 
 to reach here, and now, after two weeks' rambling and musing 
 among the mighty relics of past glory, we turn our faces home- 
 ward. The thrilling hope I cherished during the whole pilgrim- 
 age — to climb Parnassus and drink from Castaly, under the blue 
 heaven of Greece (both far easier than the steep hill and hidden 
 fount of poesy, I worship afar off) — to sigh for fallen art, beneath 
 the broken friezes of the Parthenon, and look with a pilgrim's 
 eye on the isles of Homer and of Sappho — must be given up, un- 
 willingly and sorrowfully though it be. These glorious antici- 
 pations — among the brightest that blessed my boyhood — are 
 slowly wrung from me by stern necessity. Even Naples, the 
 lovely Parthenope, where the Mantuan bard sleeps on the sunny 
 shore, by the bluest of summer seas, with the disinti^rred Pompeii 
 
340 VIEWS A-FOOT 
 
 beyond, and Psestum amid its roses on the lonely Calabrian plain 
 — even this, almost within sight of the cross of St. Peter's, is 
 barred from me. Farewell then, clime of " fame and eld," since 
 it must be ! A pilgrim's blessing for the lore ye have taught 
 him ! 
 
SHORE OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 341 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Paio. — The sea is breaking in long swells below the window, 
 and a glorious planet shines in the place of the sunset that has died 
 away. This is our first resting-place since leaving Rome. ^V^e 
 have been walking all day over the bare and dreary Campagna, 
 and it is a relief to look at last on the broad, blue expanse of the 
 Tyrrhene Sea. 
 
 When we emerged from the cool alleys of Rome, and began to 
 climb up and down the long, barren swells, the sun beat down 
 on us with an almost summer heat. On crossing a ridge near 
 Castel Guido, we took our last look of Rome, and saw from the 
 other side the sunshine lying like a dazzling belt on the far Med- 
 iterranean. The country is one of the most wretched that can 
 be imagined. Miles and miles of uncultivated land, with scarcely 
 a single habitation, extend on either side of the road, and the 
 few shepherds who watch their flocks in the marshy hollows, look 
 wild and savage enough for any kind of crime. It made me 
 shudder to see every face bearing such a villainous stamp. 
 
 Civita Vecchia, Jan. 11. — We left Palo just after sunrise, and 
 walked in the cool of the morning beside the blue Mediterranean. 
 On the right, the low outposts of the Appenines rose, bleak and 
 brown, the narrow plain between them and the shore resembling 
 a desert, so destitute was it of the signs of civilized life. A low, 
 white cloud that hung over the sea, afar off, showed us the locality 
 of Sardinia, though the land was not visible. The sun shone 
 down warmly, and with the blue sky and bluer sea we could 
 easily have imagined a milder season. The barren scenery took 
 a new interest in my eyes, when I remembered that I was spend- 
 ing amidst it that birth-day which removes me, in the eyes of the 
 world, from dependant youth to responsible manhood. 
 
 In the afternoon we found a beautiful cove in a curve of the 
 shore, and went to bathe in the cold surf. It was very refresh- 
 
342 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 ing, but not quite equal to the sulphur-bath on the road to Tivoli. 
 The mountains now ran closer to the sea, and the road was bor- 
 dered with thickets of myrtle. I stopped often to beat my staff 
 into the bushes, and inhale the fragrance that arose from their 
 crushed leaves. The hills were covered with this poetical shrub, 
 and any acre of the ground would make the fortune of a florist at 
 nome. 
 
 The sun was sinking in a sky of orange and rose, as Civita 
 Vecchia came in sight on a long headland before us. Beyond 
 the sea stretched the dim hills of Corsica. We walked nearly an 
 hour in the clear moonlight, by the sounding shore, before the 
 gate of the city was reached. We have found a tolerable inn, 
 and are now enjoying the pleasures of supper and rest. 
 
 Marseilles, Jan. 16. — At length we tread the shore of France 
 — of sunny Provence — the last unvisited realm we. have to roam 
 through before returnino- home. It is with a feeling of more than 
 common relief that we see around us the lively faces and hear 
 the glib tongues of the French. It is like an earnest that the 
 " roughing" we have undergone among Bohemian boors and 
 Italian savages is well nigh finished, and that, henceforth, we 
 shall find civilized sympathy and politeness, if nothing more, to 
 make the way smoother. Perhaps the three woful days which 
 terminated at half-past two yesterday afternoon, as we passed 
 through the narrow strait into the beautiful harbor which Mar- 
 seilles encloses in her sheltering heart, make it still pleas- 
 anter. Now, while there is time, I must describe those three 
 days, for who could write on the wet deck of a steamboat, amid 
 all the sights and smells which a sea voyage creates? Descrip- 
 tion does not flourish when the bones are sore with lying on 
 planks, and the body shivering like an aspen leaf with cold. 
 
 About the old town of Civita Vecchia there is not much to be 
 said, except that it has the same little harbor which Trajan dug 
 for it, and is as dirty and disagreeable as a town can well be. 
 We saw nothing except a little church, and the prison-yard, full 
 of criminals, where the celebrated bandit, Gasparoni, has been 
 now confined for eig-ht vears. 
 
 The Neapolitan Company's boat, Mongibello, was advertised 
 to leave the 12th, so, after procuring our 3assports, we went to 
 
aUARREL WITH A BOATMAN. 343 
 
 the office to take passage. The official, however, refused to give 
 us tickets for the third place, because, forsooth, we were not ser- 
 vants or common laborers ! and words were wasted in trying to 
 convince him that it would make no difference. As the second 
 cabin fare was nearly three times as high, and entirely too dear 
 for us, we went to the office of the Tuscan Company, whose boat 
 was to leave in two days. Through the influence of an Italian 
 gentleman, secretary to Bartolini, the American Consul, whom 
 we met, they agreed to take us for forty-five francs, on deck, the 
 price of the Neapolitan boat being thirty. 
 
 Rather than stay two days longer in the dull town, we went 
 again to the latter Company's office and offered them forty-five 
 francs to go that day in their boat. This removed the former 
 scruples, and tickets were immediately made out. After a plen- 
 tiful dinner at the albergo, to prepare ourselves for the exposure, 
 we filled our pockets with a supply of bread, cheese, and figs, for 
 the voyage. We then engaged a boatman, who agreed to row us 
 out to the steamer for two pauls, but after he had us on board 
 and an oar's length from the quay, he said two pauls apiece was 
 his bargain. I instantly refused, and, summoning the best Italian 
 I could command, explained our agreement ; but he still persist- 
 ed in demanding double price. The dispute soon drew a number 
 of persons to the quay, some of whom, being boatmen, sided with 
 him. Findinsj he had us safe in his boat, his manner was ex- 
 ceedingly calm and polite. He contradicted me with a '' pardon, 
 Signore !" accompanying the words with a low bow and a grace- 
 ful lift of his scarlet cap, and replied fo my indignant accusations 
 in the softest and most silvery-modulated Roman sentences. I 
 found, at last, that if I was in the right, I cut the worse figure of 
 the two, and, therefore, put an end to the dispute by desiring him 
 to row on at his own price. 
 
 The hour of starting was two, but the boat lay quietly in the 
 harbor till four, when we glided out on the open sea, and went 
 northward, with the blue hills of Corsica far on our left. A gor- 
 geous sunset faded away over the water, and the moon rose be- 
 hind the low mountains of the Italian coast. Having found a 
 warm and sheltered place near the chimney, I drew my beaver 
 further over my eyes, to keep out the moonlight, and lay down on 
 
344 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the deck with my knapsack under my head. It was a hard bed, 
 indeed ; and the first time I attempted to rise, I found myself 
 glued to the floor by the pitch which was smeared along the 
 seams of the boards ! Our fellow-sufferers were a company of 
 Swiss soldiers going home after a four years' service under the 
 King of Naples, but they took to their situation more easily than 
 we. 
 
 Sleep was n-ext to impossible, so I paced the deck occasionally 
 looking out on the moonlit sea and the dim shores on either side. 
 A little after midnight we passed between Elba and Corsica. 
 The dark crags of Elba rose on our right, and the bold headlands 
 of Napoleon's isle stood opposite, at perhaps twenty miles' dis- 
 tance. There was something dreary and mysterious in the whole 
 scene, viewed at such a time — the grandeur of his career, who 
 was born on one and exiled to the other, gave it a strange and 
 thrillino^ interest. 
 
 We made the light-house before the harbor of Leghorn at dawn, 
 and by sunrise were anchored within the mole. I sat on the deck 
 the whole day, watching the picturesque vessels that skimmed 
 about with their lateen sails, and wondering how soon the sailors, 
 on the deck of a Boston brig anchored near us, would see my 
 distant country. Leaving at four o'clock, we dashed away, along 
 the mountain coast of Carrara, at a rapid rate. The wind was 
 strong and cold, but I lay down behind the boiler, and though 
 the boards were as hard as ever, slept two or three hours. When 
 I awoke at half-past two in the morning, after a short rest, Genoa 
 was close at hand. We glided between the two revolving lights 
 on the mole, into the harbor, with the amphitheatre on which the 
 superb city sits, dark and silent around us. It began raining 
 soon, the engine-fire sank down, and as there was no place of 
 shelter, we were shortly wet to the skin. 
 
 How long those dreary hours seemed, till the dawn came ! All 
 was cold and rainy and dark, and we waited in a kind of torpid 
 misery for daylight. The entire day, I passed sitting in a 
 coil of rope under the stern of the cabin, and even the beauties 
 of the glorious city scarce affected me. We lay opposite the 
 Doria palace, and the constellation of villas and towers still glit- 
 tered along the hills ; but who, with his teeth chattering and 
 
A SAILOR'S SYMPATHY. 345 
 
 limbs numb and damp, could feel pleasure in looking on Elysium 
 itself? 
 
 We got under way again at three o'clock. The rain very soon 
 hid the coast from view, and the waves pitched our boat about in 
 a manner not at all pleasant. I soon experienced sea-sickness 
 in all its horrors. We had accidentally made the acquaintance 
 of one of the Neapolitan sailors, who had been in America. He 
 was one of those rough, honest natures I like to meet with — their 
 blunt kindness, is better than refined and oily-tongued suavity. 
 As we were standing by the chimney, reflecting dolefully how 
 we should pass the coming night, he came up and said ; " I am 
 in trouble about you, poor fellows ! I don't think I shall sleep 
 three hours to-night, to think of you. I shall tell all the cabin 
 they shall give you beds, because they shall see you are gentle- 
 men !" Whether he did so or the officers were moved by spon- 
 taneous commiseration, we knew not, but in half an hour a ser- 
 vant beckoned us into the cabin, and berths were given us. 
 
 I turned in with a feeling of relief not easily imagined, and for- 
 gave the fieas willingly, in the comfort of a shelter from the storm. 
 When I awoke, it was broad day. A fresh breeze was drying 
 the deck, and the sun was half-visible among breaking clouds. 
 We had just passed the Isle of the Titan, one of the Isles des 
 Hyeres, and the bay of Toulon opened on our right. It was a 
 rugged, rocky coast, but the hills of sunny Provence rose beyond. 
 The sailor came up with a smile of satisfaction on his rough 
 countenance, and said : " You did sleep better, I think ; I did 
 tell them all !" coupling his assertion with a round curse on the 
 officers. 
 
 We ran along, beside the brown, bare crags till nearly noon, 
 when we reached the eastern point of the Bay of Marseilles. A 
 group of small islands, formed of bare rocks, rising in precipices 
 three or four hundred feet high, guards the point; on turning 
 into the Gulf, we saw on the left the rocky islands of Pomegues, 
 and If, with the castle crowning the latter, in which Mirabeau 
 was confined. The ranges of hills which rose around the great 
 bay, were spotted and sprinkled over with thousands of the coun- 
 try cottages of the Marseilles merchants, called Bastides ; the city 
 itself was hidden from view. We saw apparently the whole bav, 
 
 16* 
 
546 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 but there was no crowd of vessels, such as would befit a great 
 sea-port , a few spires peeping over a bill, with some fortifica- 
 tions, were all that was visible. At length we turned suddenly 
 aside and entered a narrow strait, between two forts. Immedi- 
 ately a broad harbor opened before us, locked in the very heart 
 of the hills on which the city stands. It was covered with vessels 
 of all nations ; on leaving the boat, we rowed past the " Aristides," 
 bearing the blue cross of Greece, and I searched eagerly and 
 found, among the crowded masts, the starry banner of America. 
 
 I have rambled through all the principal parts of Marseilles, 
 and am very favorably impressed with its appearance. Its clean- 
 liness and the air of life and business which marks the streets, 
 are tlie more pleasant after coming from the dirty and depopu- 
 lated Italian cities. The broad avenues, lined with trees, which 
 traverse its whole length, must be delightful in summer. I am 
 often reminded, by its spacious and crowded thoroughfares, of 
 our American cities. Although founded by the Phoceans, three 
 thousand years ago, it has scarcely an edifice of greater antiquity 
 than three or four centuries, and the tourist must content himself 
 with wanderincT through the narrow streets of the old town, ob- 
 serving the Provencal costumes, or strolling among Turks and 
 Moors on the Qiiai cV Orleans. 
 
 We have been detained here a day longer than was necessary, 
 owing to some misunderstanding about the passports. This has 
 not been favorable to our reduced circumstances, for we have 
 now but twenty francs each, left, to take us to Paris. Our boots, 
 too, after serving us so long, begin to show signs of failing in 
 this hour of adversity. Although we are somewhat accustomed to 
 such circumstances, I cannot help shrinking when I think of the 
 solitary napoleon and the five hundred miles to be passed. Per- 
 haps, however, the coin will do as much as its great namesake, 
 and achieve for us a Marengo in the war with fate. 
 
RAINY PROVENCE. 347 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE TO VAUCLUSE AND JOURNEY IIP THE RHONE. 
 
 We left Marseilles about nine o'clock, on a dull, rainy morn- 
 ing, for Avignon and the Rhone, intending to take in our way 
 the glen of Vaucluse. The dirty faubourgs stretch out along 
 the road for a great distance, and we trudged through them, past 
 foundries, furnaces and manufactories, considerably disheartened 
 with the prospect. We wound among the bleak stony hills, con- 
 tinually ascending, for nearly three hours. Great numbers of 
 cabarets, frequented by the common people, lined the roads, and 
 we met continually trains of heavy laden wagons, drawn by large 
 mules. The country is very wild and barren, and \vould have 
 been tiresome, except for the pine groves with their beautiful 
 green foliage. We got something to eat with difficulty at an 
 inn, for the people spoke nothing but the Provencal dialect, and 
 the place was so cold and cheerless we were glad to go out again 
 into the storm. It mattered little to us, that we heard the lan- 
 guage in which the gay troubadours of king Rene sung their 
 songs of love. We thought more of our dripping clotlies and 
 numb, cold limbs, and would have been glad to hear instead, the 
 strong, hearty German tongue, full of warmth and kindly sym- 
 pathy for the stranger. The wind swept drearily among the hills ; 
 black, gusty clouds covered the sky, and the incessant rain filled 
 the road with muddy pools. We looked at the country chateaux, 
 so comfortable in the midst of their sheltering poplars, with a 
 sigh, and thought of homes afar off, whose doors were nevei 
 closed to us. 
 
 This was all forgotten, when we reached Aix, and the hostess 
 of the Cafe d'Afrique filled her little stove with fresh coal, and 
 hung our wet garments around it, while her daughter, a pale 
 faced, crippled child,, smiled kindly on us and tried to talk with 
 
348 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 us in. French. Putting on our damp, heavy coats again, B- 
 
 and I rambled through the streets, while our frugal supper was 
 preparing. We saw the statue of the Bon Roi Rene, who held 
 at Aix his court of shepherds and troubadours — the dark Cathe- 
 dral of St. Saveur — the ancient walls and battlements, and gazed 
 down the valley at the dark, precipitous mass of Mont St. Victor, 
 at whose base Marius obtained a splendid victory over the bar- 
 barians. 
 
 After leaving next morning, we saw at some distance to the 
 south, the enormous aqueduct now being erected for the canal 
 from the Rhone to Marseilles. The shallow, elevated valleys we 
 passed in the forenoon's walk were stony and barren, but covered 
 with large orchards of almond trees, the fruit of which forms a 
 considerable article of export. This district borders on tlie de- 
 sert of the Crau, a vast plain of stones, reaching to the mouth of 
 the Rhone and almost entirely uninhabited. We caught occa- 
 sional glimpses of its sea-like waste, between the summits of the 
 hills. At length, after threading a high ascent, we saw the val- 
 ley of the Durance suddenly below us. The sun, breaking through 
 the clouds, shone on the mountain wall, which stood on the oppo- 
 site side, touching with his glow the bare and rocky precipices 
 that frowned far above the stream. Descending to the valley, 
 we followed its course towards the Rhone, with the ruins of feu- 
 dal bourgs crowning the crags above us. 
 
 It was dusk, when we reached the village of Senas, tired with 
 ihe day's march. A landlord, standing in his door, on the look- 
 out for customers, invited us to enter, in a manner so polite and 
 pressing, we could not choose but do so. This is a universal 
 custom with the country innkeepers. In a little village whicli 
 we passed towards evening, there was a tavern, with the sign : 
 " The Mother of Soldiers.^' A portly woman, whose face beamed 
 with kindness and cheerfulness, stood in the door and invited us 
 to stop there for the night. " No, mother !" I answered ; " we 
 must go much further to-day." " Go, then," said she, " with 
 good luck, my children ! a pleasant journey !" On entering the 
 mn at Senas, two or three bronzed soldiers were sitting by the 
 lable. My French vocabulary happening to give out in the mid- 
 dle of a consultation about eggs and onion-soup, one of them came 
 
APPROACH TO VAUCLUSE. 349 
 
 .,0 my assistance and addressed me in German. He was from 
 Fulda, in Hesse Cassel, and had served fifteen years in Africa. 
 Two otlier young soldiers, from the western border of Germany, 
 came during the evening, and one of them being partly intoxi- 
 cated, created such a tumult, that a quarrel arose, which ended 
 in his being beaten and turned out of the house. 
 
 We met, every day, large numbers of recruits in companies 
 of one or two hundred, on their way to Marseilles to embark for 
 Algiers. They were mostly youths, from sixteen to twenty years 
 of age, and seemed little to forebode their probable fate. In look- 
 ing on their fresh, healthy faces and bounding forms> I saw also 
 a dim and ghastly vision of bones whitening on the desert, of men 
 perishing with heat and fever, or stricken down by the aim of the 
 savage Bedouin. 
 
 Leaving next morning at day-break, we walked on before 
 breakfast to Orgon, a little village in a corner of the cliffs 
 which border the Durance, and crossed the muddy river by a 
 suspension bridge a short distance below, to Cavaillon, where the 
 country people were holding a great market. From this place a 
 road led across the meadow-land to L'Isle, six miles distant. 
 This little town is so named, because it is situated on an is- 
 land formed by the crystal Sorgues, which flows from the foun- 
 tains of Vaucluse. It is a very picturesque and pretty place. 
 Great mill-wheels, turning slowly and constantly, stand at inter- 
 vals in the stream, whose grassy banks are now as green as in 
 spring-time. We walked along the Sorgues, which is quite as 
 beautiful and worthy to be sung as the Clitumnus, to the end of 
 the village, to take the road to Vaucluse. Beside its banks stands 
 a dirty, modern " Hotel de Petrarquc et Laure," Alas, that the 
 names of the most romantic and impassioned lovers of all his- 
 tory should be desecrated to a sign-post to allure gormandizing 
 tourists ! 
 
 The bare mountain in whose heart lies the poet's solitude, now 
 rose before us, at the foot of the lofty Mont Ventoux, whose sum- 
 mit of snows extended beyond. We left the river, and walked 
 over a barren plain, across which the wind blew most drearily. 
 The sky was rainy and dark, and completed the desolateness of 
 the scene; which in no wise heightened our anticipations of the 
 
350 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 renowned glen. At length we rejoined the Sorgues and entered 
 a little green valley running up into the mountain. The narrow- 
 ness of the entrance entirely shut out the wind, and except the 
 rolling of the waters over their pebbly bed, all was still and lonely 
 and beautiful. The sides of the dell were covered with olive 
 trees, and a narrow strip of emerald meadow lay at the bottom. 
 It gi'ew more hidden and sequestered as we approached the little 
 village of Vaucluse. Here, the mountain towers far above, and 
 precipices of grey rock, many hundred feet high, hang over the 
 narrowing glen. On a crag over the village are the remains of 
 a castle ; the slope below this, now rugged and stony, was once 
 graced by the cottage and garden of Petrarch. All traces of 
 them have long since vanished, but a simple column, bearing the 
 inscription, " A Petrarque," stands beside the Sorgues. 
 
 We ascended into the defile by a path among the rocks, over- 
 shadowed by olive and wild fig trees, to the celebrated fountains 
 of Vaucluse. The glen seems as if struck into the mountain's 
 depths by one blow of an enchanter's wand ; and just at the end, 
 where the rod might have rested in its downward sweep, is the 
 fathomless well whose overbrimming fulness gives birth to the 
 Sorgues. We climbed up over the mossy rocks and sat down in 
 the grot, beside the dark, still pool. It was the most absolute sol- 
 itude. The rocks towered above and over us, to the height of 
 six hundred feet, and the gray walls of the wild glen below shut 
 out all appearance of life. I leaned over the rock and drank of 
 the blue crystal that grew gradually darker towards the centre, 
 till it became a mirror, and gave back a perfect reflection of the 
 crags above it. There was no bubbling — no gushing up from its 
 deep bosom — but the wealth of sparkling waters continually 
 welled over, as from a too-full goblet. 
 
 It was with actual sorrow that I turned away from the silent 
 spot. I never visited a place to which the fancy clung more 
 suddenly and fondly. There is something holy in its solitude, 
 making one envy Petrarch the years of calm and unsullied en- 
 joyment which blessed him there. As some persons, whom we 
 pass as strangers, strike a hidden chord in our spirits, compelling 
 a silent sympathy with them, so some landscapes have a charac- 
 ter of beauty which harmonizes thrillingly with the mood in 
 
VALLEY OF THE RHONE. 351 
 
 which we look upon them, till we forget admiration in the glow 
 of spontaneous attachment. They seem like abodes of the Beau- 
 tiful, which the soul in its wanderings long ago visited, and now 
 recoi^nizes and loves as the home of a forg-otten dream. It was 
 ihus I felt by the fountains of Vaucluse ; sadly and with weary 
 Bteps I turned away, leaving its loneliness unbroken as before. 
 
 We returned over the plain in the wind, under the gloomy sky, 
 passed L' Isle at dusk, and after walking an hour with a rain fol- 
 lowing close behind us, stopped at an anherge in Le Thor, where 
 we rested our tired frames and broke our long day's fasting. We 
 were greeted in the morning with a dismal rain and wet roads, as 
 we began the march. After a time, however, it poured down in such 
 torrents, that we were obliged to take shelter in aremise by the road- 
 side, where a good woman, who addressed us in the unintelligible 
 Provencal, kindled up a blazing fire. On climbing a long hill, when 
 the storm had abated, we experienced a delightful surprise. Be- 
 low us lay the broad valley of the Rhone, with its meadows look- 
 ing fresh and spring-like after the rain. The clouds were break- 
 ing away ; clear blue sky w^as visible over Avignon, and a belt 
 of sunlight lay warmly along the mountains of Languedoc. 
 Many villages, with their tall, picturesque towers, dotted the 
 landscape, and the groves of green olive enlivened the barren- 
 ness of winter. Tv/o or three hours' walk over the plain, by a 
 road fringed with willows, brought us to the gates of Avignon. 
 
 We walked around its picturesque turreted wall, and rambled 
 through its narrow streets, washed here and there by streams 
 which turn the old mill-wheels lazily around. We climbed up to 
 the massive palace, which overlooks the citv from its crasfo-v 
 seat, attesting the splendor it enjoyed, when for thirty years the 
 Papal Court was held there, and the gray, weather-beaten, irreg- 
 ular building, resembling a pile of precipitous rocks, echoed with 
 the revels of licentious prelates. We could not enter to learn the 
 terrible secrets of the Inquisition, here unveiled, but we looked 
 up at the tower, from which the captive Rienzi was liberated at 
 the intercession of Petrarch. 
 
 After leaving Avignon, we took the road up the Rhone for Ly- 
 ons, turning our backs upon the rainy south. We reached the 
 village of Sorgues by dusk, and accepted the invitation of an old 
 
352 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 dame to lodge at her inn, which proved to be a hlacksmiili' s shopf 
 It was nevertheless clean and comfortable, and we sat down in 
 one corner, out of the reach of the showers of sparks, which flew 
 hissing from a red-hot horseshoe, that the smith and his appren- 
 tice were hammering. A Piedmontese pedlar, who carried the 
 ' Song of the Holy St. Philomene" to sell among the peasants, 
 jame in directly, and bargained for a sleep on some hay, for two 
 sous. For a bed in the loft over the shop, we were charged five 
 sous each, which, with seven sous for supper, made our expenses 
 for the night about eleven cents ! Our circumstances demanded 
 the greatest economy, and we began to fear whether even this 
 spare allowance would enable us to reach Lyons. Owing to a 
 day's delay in Marseilles, we had left that city with but fifteen 
 francs each ; the incessant storms of winter and the worn-out 
 state of our shoes, which were no longer proof against water 
 or mud, prolonged our journey considerably, so that by start- 
 ing before dawn and walking till dark, we were only able to 
 make thirty miles a day. We could always procure beds for five 
 sous, and as in the country inns one is only charged for what he 
 chooses to order, our frugal suppers cost us but little. We pur- 
 chased bread and cheese in the villages, and made our break- 
 fasts and dinners on a bank by the roadside, or climbed the 
 rocks and sat down by the source of some trickling rill. This 
 simple fare had an excellent relish, and although we walked in 
 wet clothes from morning till night, often laying down on the 
 damp, cold earth to rest, our health was never affected. 
 
 It is worth all the toil and privation we have as yet undergone, 
 to gain, from actual experience, the blessed knowledge that man 
 always retains a kindness and brotherly sympathy towards his 
 fellow — that under all the weight of vice and misery which a 
 grinding oppression of soul and body brings on the laborers of 
 earth, there still remain many bright tokens of a better nature. 
 Among the starving mountaineers of the Hartz — the degraded 
 peasantry of Bohemia — the savage contadini of Central Italy, or 
 the dwellers on the hills of Provence and beside the swift Rhone, 
 we almost invariably found kind, honest hearts, and an aspiration 
 for something better, betokening the consciousness that such brute- 
 like, obedient existence was not their proper destiny. We found 
 
ROMAN REMAINS. 353 
 
 few so hardened as to be insensible to a kind look or a friendly 
 word, and nothing made us forget we were among strangers so 
 much as the many tokens of sympathy which met us when least 
 looked for. A young Englishman, who had traveled on foot from 
 Geneva to Rome, enduring many privations on account of his 
 reduced circumstances, said to me, vviiile speaking on this subject: 
 " A single word of kindness from a stranger would make my 
 heart warm and my spirits cheerful, for days afterwards." There 
 is not so much evil in man as men would have us believe ; and 
 it is a happy comfort to know and feel this. 
 
 Leaving our little inn befoi-e day-break next morning, we 
 crossed the Sorgues, grown muddy since its infancy at Vaucluse, 
 like many a young soul, whose mountain purity goes out into the 
 soiling world and becomes sullied forever. The road passed 
 over broad, barren ranges of hills, and the landscape was desti- 
 tute of all interest, till we approached Orange. This city is built 
 at the foot of a rocky height, a great square projection of which 
 seemed to stand in its midst. As we approached nearer, hovv- 
 ever, arches and lines of cornice could be discerned, and we 
 recognized it as the celebrated amphitheatre, one of the grandest 
 Roman relics in the south of France. 
 
 I stood at the foot of this great fabric, and gazed up at it in 
 astonishment. The exterior wall, three hundred and thirty-four 
 feet in length, and rising to the height of one hundred and twenty- 
 one feet, is still in excellent preservation, and through its rows of 
 solid arches one looks on the broken ranges of seats within. On 
 the crag above, and looking as if about to topple down on it, is a 
 massive fragment of the fortress of the Princes of Orange, razed 
 by Louis XIV. Passing through the city, we came to the beau- 
 tiful Roman triumphal arch, which to my eye is a finer structure 
 than that of Constantino at Rome. It is built of a rich yellow 
 marble and highly ornamented with sculptured trophies. From 
 the barbaric shields and the letters Mario, siill remaining, it 
 has been supposed to commemorate the victory of Marius over 
 the barbarians, near Aix. A frieze, running along the top, on 
 each side, shows, although broken and much defaced by the wea- 
 ther, the life and action which once marked the struggling figures. 
 These Roman ruins, scattered through Provence and Languedoc, 
 
354 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 though inferior in historical interest, equal in architectural beauty 
 the greater part of those in the Eternal City itself. 
 
 The rest of the day the road was monotonous, though varied 
 somewhat by the tall crags of Mornas and Mont-dragon, towering 
 over the villages of the same name. Night came on as the rock 
 of Pierrelatte, at whose foot we were to sleep, appeared in the 
 distance, rising like a Gibraltar from the plain, and we only 
 reached it in time to escape the rain that came down the valley 
 of the Rhone. 
 
 Next day we passed several companies of soldiers on their way 
 to Africa. One of them was accompanied by a young girl, ap- 
 parently the wife of the recruit by whose side she was marching. 
 She wore the tight blue jacket of the troop, and a red skirt, reach- 
 ing to the knees, over her soldier pantaloons ; while her pretty 
 face showed to advantage beneath a small military cap. It was 
 a " Fille du Regiment" in real life. Near Montelimart, we lost 
 sight of Mont Ventoux, whose gleaming white crest had been vis- 
 ible all the way from Vaucluse, and passed along the base of a 
 range of hills running near to the river. So went our march, 
 without particular incident, till we bivouacked for the night among 
 a company of soldiers in the little village of Loriol. 
 
 Leaving at six o'clock, wakened by the trumpets which called 
 up the soldiery to their day's march, we reached the river Drome 
 at dawn, and from the bridge over its rapid current, gazed at the 
 dim, ash-colored masses of the Alps of Dauphine, piled along the 
 sky, far up the valley. The coming of morn threw a yellow 
 glow along their snowy sides, and lighted up, here and there, a 
 flashing glacier. The peasantry were already up and at work, 
 and caravans of pack-wagons rumbled along in the morning twi- 
 light We trudged on with them, and by breakfast-time had made 
 some distance of the v/ay to Valence. The road, which does not 
 approach the Rhone, is devoid of interest and tiresome, though 
 under a summer sky, when the bare vine-hills are latticed over 
 with green, and the fruit-trees covered with blossoms and foliage, 
 it might be a scene of great beauty. 
 
 Valence, which we reached towards noon, is a commonplace 
 city on the Rhone ; and my only reasons for traversing its dirty 
 streets in preference to taking the road, which passes without the 
 
THE RHONE. . 355 
 
 walls, were — to get something for dinner, and because it might 
 have been the birth-place of Aymer de Valence, the valorous 
 Crusader, chronicled in "Ivanhoe," whose tomb I had seen in 
 Westminster Abbey. One of the streets which was marked " Rue 
 Bayard,^^ shows that my valiant namesake — the knight without 
 fear and reproach — is still remembered in his native province. 
 The ruins of his chateau are still standing among the Alps near 
 Grenoble. 
 
 In the afternoon we crossed the Isere, a swift, muddy river, 
 which rises among the Alps of Dauphine. We saw their icy 
 rano-e, amono; which is the desert solitude of the Grand Char, 
 treuse, far up the valley ; but the thick atmosphere hid the mighty 
 Mont Blanc, whose cloudy outline, eighty miles distant in a " bee 
 line," is visible in fliir weather. At Tain, we came upon the 
 Rhone again, and walked along the base of the hills which con- 
 tract its current. Here, I should call it beautiful. The scenery 
 has a wildness thai approaches to that of the Rhine. Rocky, 
 castellated heights frown over the rushing waters, which have 
 something of the majesty of their " exulting and abounding" rival. 
 Winding around the curving hills, the scene is constantly varied, 
 and the little willovved islets clasped in the embrace of the stream, 
 mingle a trait of softened beauty with its sterner character. 
 
 After passing the nigiit at a village on its banks, we left it 
 again at St. Vallier, the next morning. At sunset, the spires of 
 Vienne were visible, and the lofty Mont Pilas, the snows of whose 
 riven summits feed the springs of the Loire on its western side, 
 stretched majestically along the opposite bank of the Rhone. In 
 a meadow, near Vienne, stands a curious Roman obelisk, seventy- 
 six feet in height. The base is composed of four pillars, con- 
 nected by arches, and the whole structure has a barbaric air, 
 compared with the more elegant monuments of Orange and Nis- 
 mes. Vienne, which is mentioned by several of the Roman his- 
 torians under its present name, was the capital of the Allobroges, 
 and I looked upon it with a new and strange interest, on calling 
 to mind my school-boy days, when I had become familiar with 
 that war-like race, in toiling over the pages of Csesar. We 
 walked in the mud and darkness for what seemed a great dis- 
 tance, and finally took shelV>r in a little inn at the northern end 
 
356 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 of the city. Two Belgian soldiers, coming from Africa, were al- 
 ready quartered there, and we listened to their tales of the Arab 
 and the desert, while supper was preparing. 
 
 The morning of the 25th was dull and rainy ; the road, very 
 muddy and unpleasant, led over the hills, avoiding the westward 
 curve of the Rhone, directly towards Lyons. About noon, we 
 came in vsight of the broad valley in which the Rhone first clasps 
 his Burgundian bride — the Saone, and a cloud of impenetrable 
 coal-smoke showed us the location of Lyons. A nearer approach 
 revealed a large flat dome, and some ranges of tall buildings near 
 the river. We soon entered the suburb of La Guillotiere, which 
 has sprung up on the eastern bank of the Rhone. Notwithstand 
 ing our clothes were like sponges, our boots entirely worn out, 
 and our bodies somewhat thin with nine days exposure to the 
 wintry storms in walking two hundred and forty miles, we entered 
 Lyons with- suspense and anxiety. But one franc apiece re- 
 mained out of the fifteen witli which we left Marseilles. B 
 
 wrote home some time ago, directing a remittance to be forwarded 
 to a merchant at Paris, to whom he had a letter of introduction, 
 and in the hope that this had arrived, he determined to enclose the 
 letter in a note, stating our circumstances, and requesting him to 
 forward a part of the remittance to Lyons. We had then to wait 
 at least four days ; people are suspicious and mistrustful in cities, 
 and if no relief should come, what was to be done ? 
 
 After wading through the mud of the suburbs, we chose a com- 
 mon-looking inn near the river, as the comfort of our stay depended 
 wholly on the kindness of our hosts, and we hoped to find more 
 sympathy among the laboring classes. We engaged lodgings for 
 four or five days ; after dinner the letter was dispatched, and we 
 wandered about through the dark, dirty city until night. Our 
 landlord, Monsieur Ferrand, was a rough, vigorous man, with a 
 gloomy, discontented expression ; his words were few and blunt ; 
 but a certain restlessness of manner, and a secret flashing of his 
 cold, forbidding eye betrayed to me some strong hidden excite- 
 ment. Madame Ferrand was kind and talkative, though pas- 
 sionate ; but the appearance of the place gave me an unfavora- 
 ble impression, which was heightened by the thought that it was 
 now impossible to change our lodgings until relief should arrive. 
 
A GLOOMY SITUATION. 357 
 
 When bed-time came, a ladder was placed against a sort of high 
 platform along one side of the kitchen ; we mounted and found a 
 bed, concealed from the view of those below by a dusty muslin 
 curtain. We lay there, between heaven and earth — the dirty earth 
 of the brick floor and the sooty heaven of the ceiling — listening 
 until midnight to the boisterous songs, and loud,, angry disputes in 
 the room adjoining. Thus ended our first day in Lyons. 
 
 Five weary days, each of them containing a month of tortur- 
 ing suspense, have since passed. Our lodging-place grew so un- 
 pleasant that we preferred wandering all day through the misty, 
 muddy, smoky streets, taking refuge in the covered bazaars when 
 it rained heavily. The gloom of every thing around us, entirely 
 smothered down the lightness of heart which made us laugh over 
 our embarrassments at Vienna. When at evening, the dull, 
 leaden hue of the clouds seemed to make the air dark and cold 
 and heavy, we walked beside the swollen and turbid Rhone, un- 
 der an avenue of leafless trees, the damp soil chilling our feet 
 and striking a numbness through our frames, and then 1 knew 
 what those must feel who have no hope in their destitution, and 
 not a friend in all the great world, who is not wretched as them- 
 selves. I prize the lesson, though the price of it is hard. 
 
 " This morning," I said to B , " will terminate our sus- 
 pense." I felt cheerful in spite of myself; and this was like a 
 presentiment of coming good luck. To pass the time till the 
 mail arrived we climbed to the chapel of Fourvieres, whose walls 
 are covered with votive offerings to a miraculous picture of the 
 Virgin. But at the precise hour we were at the Post Office. 
 What an intensity of suspense can be felt in that minute, while 
 the clerk is lookinjj over the letters ! And what a liojhtninsf-like 
 shock of joy when it did come, and was opened with eager, trem- 
 bling hands, revealing the relief we had almost despaired of! 
 The city did not seem less gloomy, for that was impossible, but 
 the faces of the crowd which had appeared cold and suspicious, 
 were now kind and cheerful. We came home to our lodgings 
 with chansred feelinors, and Madame Ferrand must have seen the 
 joy in our faces, for she greeted us with an unusual smile. 
 
 We leave to-morrow morning for Chalons. I do not feel dis- 
 posed to describe Lyons particularly, although I have become in- 
 
358 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 timately acquainted with every part of it, from Fresqu' isle Per- 
 rache to Croix Rousse. I know the contents of every shop in the 
 Bazaar, and the passage of the Hotel Dieu — the title of every 
 volume in the bookstores in the Place Belcour — and the counten- 
 ance of every boot-black and apple-woman on the Quais on both 
 sides of the river. I have walked up the Saone. to Pierre Seise — 
 down the Rhone to his muddy marriage — climbed the Heights of 
 Fourvi^res, and promenaded in the Cours Napoleon ! Why, men 
 have been presented with the freedom of cities, when they have 
 had far less cause for such an honor than this ! 
 
DEPARTURE FROM LYONS. 359 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV, 
 
 TRAVELING IN BURGUNDY THE MISERIES OF A COUNTRY DILIGENCE. 
 
 Paris, Feb. 6, 184G. — Every letter of the date is traced with 
 an emotion of joy, for our dreary journey is over. There was a 
 magic in the name that revived us during a long journey, and now 
 the thought that it is all over — that these walls which enclose 
 us, stand in the heart of the gay city — seems almost too joyful to 
 be true. Yesterday I marked with the whitest chalk, on the 
 blackest of all tablets to make the contrast greater, for I got out 
 of the cramped diligence at the Barriere de Charenton, and saw 
 before me in the morning twilight, the immense grey mass of 
 Paris. T forgot my numbed and stiffened frame, and every other 
 of the thousand disagreeable feelings of diligence traveling, in 
 the pleasure which that sight afforded. 
 
 We arose in the dark at Lyons, and after bidding adieu to mo- 
 rose Monsieur Ferrand, traversed the silent city and found our 
 way in the mist and gloom to the steamboat landing on the Saone. 
 The waters were swollen much above their usual level, which 
 was favorable for the boat, as long as there was room enough left 
 to pass under the bridges. After a great deal of bustle we got 
 under way, and were dashing out of Lyons, against the swift 
 current, before day-break. We passed L'IsIe Barhe, once a 
 favorite residence of Charlemagne, and now the haunt of the 
 Lyonnaise on summer holidays, and going under the suspension 
 bridges with levelled chimneys, entered the picturesque hills 
 above, which are covered with vineyards nearly to the top ; the 
 villages scattered over them have those square, pointed towers, 
 which give such a quaintness to French country scenery. 
 
 The stream being very high, the meadows on both sides were 
 deeply overflowed. To avoid the strong current in the centre, 
 Gur boat ran along the banks, pushing aside the alder thickets 
 
360 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 and poplar shoots ; in passing the bridges, the pipes were 
 always brought down flat on the deck. A little after noon, we 
 passed the large town of Macon, the birth-place of the poet Lam- 
 artine. The valley of the Saone, no longer enclosed among the 
 hills, spread out to several miles in width. Along the west lay 
 in sunshine the vine-mountains of Cote d'Or, and among the dark 
 clouds in the eastern sky, we could barely distinguish the outline 
 of the Jura. The waters were so much swollen as to cover the 
 plain for two or three miles. We seemed to be sailing down a 
 lake, with rows of trees springing up out of the water, and 
 houses and villages lying like islands on its surface. A sunset 
 that promised better weather tinged the broad brown flood, as 
 Chalons came in sight, looking like a city built along the shore of 
 a lake. We squeezed through the crowd of porters and diligence 
 men, declining their kind offers, and hunted quarters to suit our- 
 selves. 
 
 We left Chalons on the morning of the 1st, in high spirits at 
 the thought that there were but little more than two hundred 
 miles between us and Paris. In walking over the cold, muddy 
 plain, we passed a family of strolling musicians, who were sitting 
 on a heap of stones by the roadside. An ill-dressed, ill-natured 
 man and woman, each carrying a violin, and a thin, squalid girl, 
 with a tamborine, composed the group. Their faces bore that un- 
 feeling stamp, which springs from depravity and degradation. 
 When we had walked somewhat more than a mile, we overtook a 
 little girl, who was crying bitterly. By her features, from which 
 the fresh beauty of childhood had not been worn, and the steel 
 triangle which was tied to her belt, we knew she belonged to the 
 family we had passed. Her dress was thin and ragged and a 
 pair of wooden shoes but ill protected her feet from the sharp 
 cold. I stopped and asked her why she cried, but she did not at 
 first answer. However, by questioning, I found her unfeeling 
 parents had sent heron without food ; she was sobbing with hun- 
 ger and cold. Our pockets were full of bread and cheese which 
 we had bought for breakfast, and we gave her half a loaf, which 
 stopped her tears at once. She looked up and thanked us, smil- 
 ing ; and sitting down on a bauk, began to eat as if half fam 
 iahed. 
 
THE RUIN AND ROCHEPOT. 36i 
 
 The physiognomy of this region is very singular. It appears 
 as if the country had been originally a vast elevated plain, and 
 some great power had scooped out, as with a hand, deep circular 
 valleys all over its surface. In winding along the high ridges, 
 we often looked down, on either side, into such hollows, several 
 miles in diameter, and sometimes entirely covered with vine- 
 yards. At La Rochepot, a quaint, antique village, lying in the 
 bottom of one of these dells, we saw the finest ruin of the middle 
 ages that I have met with in France. An American lady had 
 spoken to me of it in Rome, and I believe Willis mentions it in 
 his " Pencillings," but it is not described in the guide books, nor 
 could we learn what feudal lord had ever dwelt in its halls. It 
 covers the summit of a stately rock, at whose foot the village is 
 crouched, and the green ivy climbs up to the very top of its 
 gray towers. 
 
 As the road makes a wide curve around the side of the hill, we 
 descended to the village by the nearer foot-path, and passed 
 among its low, old houses, with their pointed gables and mossy 
 roofs. The path led close along the foot of the rock, and we 
 climbed up to the ruin, and stood in its grass-grown courtyard. 
 Only the outer walls and the round towers at each corner are left 
 remaining ; the inner part has been razed to the ground, and where 
 proud barons once marshalled their vassals, the villagers now 
 play their holiday games. On one side, several Gothic windows 
 are left standing, perfect, though of simple construction, and in 
 the towers we saw many fire-places and door-ways of richly cut 
 stone, which looked as fresh as if just erected. 
 
 We passed the night at Ivry (not the Ivry which gained Henri 
 Quatre his kingdom) and then continued our march over roads 
 which I can only compare to our country roads in America during 
 the spring thaw. In addition to this, the rain commenced early 
 in the morning and continued all day, so that we were completely 
 wet the whole time. The plains, too high and cold to produce 
 wine, were varied by forests of beech and oak, and the population 
 was thinly scattered over them in small villages. Travelers gen- 
 erally complain very much of the monotony of this part of France, 
 and, with such dreary weather, we could not disagree with them. 
 
 As the day wore on, the rain increased, and the sky put on that 
 
 17 
 
362 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 dull, gray cast, which denotes a lengthened storm. We were 
 fain to stop at nightfall, but there was no inn near at hand — not 
 even a hovel of a cabaret in which to shelter ourselves, and, on 
 enquiring of the wagoners, we received the comforting assurance 
 that there was yet a league and a half to the nearest stopping 
 place. On, then, we went, with the pitiless storm beating in our 
 faces and on our breasts, till there was not a dry spot left, except 
 what our knapsacks covered. We could not have been more 
 completely saturated if we had been dipped in the Yonne. At 
 length, after two hours of slipping and sliding along in the mud 
 and wet and darkness, we reached Saulieu, and, by the warm 
 fire, thanked our stars that the day's dismal tramp was over. 
 
 By good or bad luck (I have not yet decided which) a vehicle 
 was to start the next morning for Auxerre, distant sixty miles, 
 and the fare being but five francs, we thought it wisest to take 
 places. It was always with reluctance that we departed from 
 our usual mode of traveling, but, in the present instance, the cir- 
 cumstances absolutely compelled it. 
 
 Next morning, at sunrise, we took our seats in a large, square 
 vehicle on two wheels, calculated for six persons and a driver, 
 with a single horse. But, as he was fat and round as an elephant, 
 and started off at a brisk pace, and we were well protected from 
 the rain, it was not so bad after all, barring the jolts and jarred 
 vertebrae. We drove on, over the same dreary expanse of plain 
 and forest, passing through two or three towns in the course of the 
 day, and by evening had made somewhat more than half our jour- 
 ney. Owing to the slowness of our fresh horse, we were jolted 
 about the whole night, and did not arrive at Auxerre until six 
 o'clock in the morning. After waiting an hour in a hotel beside 
 the rushing Yonne, a lumbering diligence was got ready, and we 
 were given places to Paris for seven francs. As the distance is 
 one hundred and ten miles, this would be considered cheap, but 
 I should not want to travel it again and be paid for doing so. 
 Twelve persons were packed into a box not large enough for a 
 cow, and no cabinet-maker ever dove-tailed the corners of his bu- 
 reaus tighter than we did our knees and nether extremities. It 
 is my lot to be blessed with abundance of stature, and none but 
 tall persons can appreciate the misery of sitting for hours with 
 
THE SEINE AND PARIS. 363 
 
 their joints in an immovable vice. The closeness of the atmos- 
 phere — for the passengers would not permit the windows to be 
 opened for fear of taking cold — combined with loss of sleep, made 
 me so drows}' that my head was continually falling on my next 
 neighbor, who, being a heavy country lady, thrust it indignantly 
 away. I would then try my best to keep it up awhile, but it 
 would droop gradually, till the crash of a bonnet or a smart bump 
 against some other head would recall me, for a moment, to con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 We passed Joigny, on the Yonne, Sens, with its glorious old 
 cathedral, and at dusk reached Montereau, on the Seine. This 
 was the scene of one of Napoleon's best victories, on his return 
 from Elba. In driving over the bridge, I looked down on the 
 swift and swollen current, and hoped that its hue might never be 
 darkened again so fearfully as the last sixty years have witnessed. 
 No river in Europe has such an association connected with it. 
 We think of the Danube, for its majesty, of the Rhine, for its wild 
 beauty, but of the Seine — for its blood ! 
 
 In coming thus to the last famed stream I shall visit in Europe, 
 I might say, with Barry Cornwall : 
 
 " We've sailed through banks of green, 
 
 Where the wild waves fret and quiver ; 
 And we've down the Danube been — 
 
 The dark, deep, thundering river ! 
 We've thridded the Elbe and Rhone, 
 
 The Tiber and blood dyed Seine, 
 And we've been Avhere the blue Garonne 
 
 Goes laughing to meet the main !" 
 
 All that night did we endure squeezing and suffocation, and no 
 morn was ever more welcome than that which revealed to us 
 Paris. With matted hair, wild, glaring eyes, and dusty and di- 
 shevelled habiliments, we entered the gay capital, and blessed 
 every stone upon which we placed our feel, in the fulness of our 
 
 joy- 
 In paying our fare at Auxerre, I was obliged to use a draft on 
 
 the banker, Rougemont de Lowenberg. The ignorant conductor 
 
 hesitated to change this, but permitted us to go, on condition of 
 
 keeping it until we should arrive. Therefore, on getting out of 
 
«3 
 
 64 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the diligence, after forty-eight hours of sleepless and fasting mis- 
 ery, the factfAir of the office went with me to get it paid, leaving 
 B to wait for us. I knew nothing of Paris, and this merci- 
 less man kept me for three hours at his heels, following him on 
 all Ms errands, before he did mine, in that time traversing the 
 whole length of the city, in order to leave a chivre-feuille at an 
 aristocratic residence in the Faubourg St. Germain. Yet even 
 combined weariness and hunger could not prevent me from look- 
 ing with vivid interest down a long avenue, at the Column of the 
 place Vendome, in passing, and gazing up in wonder at the splen- 
 did portico of the Madeleine. But of anything else I have a very 
 faint remembrance. " You can eat breakfast, now, 1 think," said 
 he, when we returned, " we have walked more than four leagues !" 
 . I know we will be excused, that, instead of hurrying away to 
 Notre Dame or the Louvre, we sat down quietly to a most com- 
 plete breakfast. Even the most romantic must be forced to con- 
 fess that admiration does not sit well on an empty stomach. Out 
 first walk was to a bath, and then, with complexions several 
 shades lighter, and limbs that felt as if lifted by invisible wings, 
 we hurried away to the Post Office. I seized the welcome mis- 
 sives from my far home, with a beating heart, and hastening back, 
 read till the words became indistinct in the twilight. 
 
PARIS. 365 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 POETICAL SCENES IN PARIS. 
 
 What a gay little world in miniature this is ! I wonder not 
 that the French, with their exuberant gaiety of spirit, should 
 revel in its ceaseless tides of pleasure, as if it were an earthly 
 Elysium. I feel already the mfluence of its cheerful atmosphere, 
 and have rarely threaded the crowds of a stranger city, with so 
 light a heart as I do now daily, on the thronged banks of the 
 Seine. And yet it would be difficult to describe wherein consists 
 this agreeable peculiarity. You can find streets as dark and 
 crooked and dirty anywhere in Germany, and squares and gar- 
 dens as gay and sunny beyond the Alps, and yet they would af- 
 fect you far differently. You could not, as here, divest yourself 
 of every particle of sad or serious thought and be content to gaze 
 for hours on the showy scene, without an idea beyond the present 
 moment. It must be that the spirit of the croud is magnetically 
 contagious. 
 
 The evening of our arrival we wa'lked out past the massive 
 and stately Hotel de Ville, and took a promenade along the 
 Quais. The shops facing the river presented a scene of great 
 splendor. Several of the Quais on the north bank of the Seine 
 are occupied almost entirely by jewellers, the windows of whose 
 shops, arranged in a style of the greatest taste, make a dazzling 
 display. Rows of gold watches and chains are arranged across the 
 crystal panes, and heaped in pyramids on long glass slabs ; cy- 
 lindrical wheels of wire, hung with jewelled breastpins and ear- 
 rings, turn slowly around by some invisible agency, displaying 
 row after row of their glittering treasures. 
 
 From the centre of the Pont Neuf, we could see for a long dis- 
 tance up and down the river. The different bridges traced on 
 either side a dozen starry lines through the dark air, and a con- 
 
366 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 tinued blaze lighted the two shores in their whole length, reveal- 
 ing the outline of the Isle da la Cite. I recognized the Palaces 
 of the Louvre and the Tuileries in the dusky mass beyond. 
 Eastward, looming against the dark sky, I could faintly trace the 
 black towers of Notre Dame. The rushing of the swift waters 
 below mingled with the rattling of a thousand carts and carriages, 
 and the confusion of a thousand voices, till it seemed like some 
 grand nightly festival. 
 
 I first saw Notre Dame by moonlight. The shadow of its stu- 
 pendous front was thrown directly towards me, hiding the innu- 
 merable lines of the ornamental sculpture which cover its tall, 
 square towers. I walked forward until the interlacing, Moorish 
 arches between them stood fuli against the moon, and the light, 
 struggling through the quaint openings of the tracery, streamed 
 in silver lines down into the shadow. The square before it was 
 quite deserted, for it stands on a lonely part of the Isle de la Cite, 
 and it looked thus far more majestic and solemn than in the glar- 
 ing daylight. 
 
 The great quadrangle of the Tuileries encloses the Place du 
 Carrousel, in the centre of which stands a" triumphal arch, 
 erected by Napoleon after his Italian victories. Standing in 
 the middle of this arch, you look through the open passage in 
 the central building of the palace, into the Gardens beyond. 
 Further on, in a direct line, the middle avenue of the Gardens 
 extends away to the Place de la Concorde, where the Obelisk of 
 Luxor makes a perpendicular line through your vista ; still fur- 
 ther goes the broad avenue through the Elysian Fields, until afar 
 off, the Arc de 1' Etoile, two miles distant, closes this view through 
 tke palace doorway. 
 
 Let us go through it, and on, to the Place de la Concorde, re- 
 serving the Gardens for another time. What is there in Europe 
 — nay, in the world, — equal to this ? In the centre, the mighty 
 obelisk of red granite pierces the sky, — on either hand showers 
 of silver spray are thrown up from splendid bronze fountains — 
 statues and pillars of gilded bronze sweep in a grand circle around 
 the square, and on each side magnificent vistas lead the eye off, 
 and combine the distant with the near, to complete this unparal- 
 leled view ! Eastv/ard, beyond tLe tall trees in the garden of the 
 
SOLDIERS OF THE EMPIRE. 367 
 
 Tuileries, rises the long front of the Palace, with the tri-color 
 floating above ; westward, in front of us, is the Forest of the 
 Elysian Fields, with the arch of triumph nearly a mile and a 
 half distant, looking down from the end of the avenue, at the 
 Barriere de Neuilly. To the right and left are the marble fronts 
 of the Church of the Madeleine and the Chamber of Deputies, 
 the latter on the other side of the Seine. Thus the groves and 
 gardens of Paris — the palace of her kings — the proud monu- 
 ment of her sons' glory — and the masterpieces of modern 
 French architecture are all embraced in this one splendid coup 
 
 Following the motley multitude to the bridge, I crossed and 
 made my way to the Hotel des Invalides. Along the esplanade, 
 playful companies of children were running and tumbling in 
 their sports over the green turf, which was as fresh as a meadow ; 
 while, not the least interesting feature ot the scene, numbers of 
 scarred and disabled veterans, in the livery of the Hospital, 
 basked in the sunshine, watching with quiet satisfaction the gam- 
 bols of the second generation they have seen arise. What tales 
 could they not tell, those v/rinkled and feeble old men ! What 
 visions of Marengo and Austerlitz and Borodino shift still with a 
 fiery vividness through their fading memories ! Some may have 
 left a limb on the Lybian desert ; and the sabre of the Cossack 
 may have scarred the brows of others. They witnessed the 
 rising and setting of that great meteor, which intoxicated France 
 with such a blaze of power and glory, and now, when the recollec- 
 tion of that wonderful period seems almost like a stormy dream, 
 thev are left to aruard the ashes of their ancient General, brouiiht 
 back from his exile to rest in the bosom of his own French peo- 
 ple. It was to me a touching and exciting thing, to look on those 
 whose eyes had witnessed the filling up of such a fated leaf in 
 the world's history. 
 
 Entrance is denied to the tomb of Napoleon until it is finished, 
 which will not be for three or four years yet. I went, however, 
 into the "Church of the Banners" — a large chapel, hung with 
 two or three hundred flags taken by the armies of the Empire. 
 The greater part of them were Austrian and Russian. It ap- 
 peared to be empty when I entered, but on looking around, I saw 
 
368 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 an old gray-headed soldier kneeling at one side. His head was 
 bowed over his hands, and he seemed perfectly absorbed in his 
 thoughts. Perhaps the very tattered banners which hung down 
 motionless above his head, he might have assisted in conquering. 
 I looked a moment on those eloquent trophies, and then noiselessly 
 withdrew. 
 
 There is at least one solemn spot near Paris; the laughing 
 winds that come up from the merry city sink into sighs under the 
 cypress boughs of Pere Lachaise. And yet it is not a gloomy 
 place, but full of a serious beauty, fitting for a city of the dead. 
 I shall never forget the sunny afternoon when 1 first entered its 
 gate and walked slowly up the hill, between rows of tombs, 
 gleaming white amid the heavy foliage, while the green turf 
 around them was just beginning to be starred by the opening dai- 
 sies. From the little chapel on its summit I looked back at the 
 blue spires of the city, whose roar of life dwindled to a low mur- 
 mur. Countless pyramids, obelisks and urns, rising far and wide 
 above the cedars and cypresses, showed the extent of the splendid 
 necropolis, which is inhabited by pale, shrouded emigrants from 
 its living sister below. The only sad part of the view, was the 
 slope of the hill alloted to the poor, where legions of plain black 
 crosses are drawn up into solid squares on its side and stand alone 
 and gloomy — the advanced guard of the army of Death ! I mused 
 over the tombs of Moliere and La Fontaine ; Massena, Mortier 
 and Lefebre ; General Foy and Casimir Perier ; and finally de- 
 scended to the shrine where Abelard reposes by the side of his 
 Heloise. The old sculptured tomb, brought away from the Para- 
 clete, still covers their remains, and pious hands (of lovers, per- 
 haps,) keep fresh the wreaths of immortelles above their marble 
 effigies. 
 
 In the Theatre Fran9ais, I saw Rachel, the actress. She ap- 
 peared in the character of" Virginia," in a tragedy of that name, 
 by the poet Latour. Her appearance as she came upon the 
 stage alone, convinced me she would not belie her renown. She 
 is rather small in stature, with dark, piercing eyes and rich black 
 hair ; her lips are full, but delicately formed, and her features 
 have a marked yet flexible outline, which conveys the minutest 
 shades of expression. Her voice is clear, deep and thrilling, and 
 
FRAGMENT OF THE ILIAD. 369 
 
 like some grand strain of music, there is power and meaning in 
 its slightest modulations. Her gestures embody ihe very spirit 
 of the character; she has so perfectly attained that rare harmony 
 of thought, sound and action, or rather, that unity of feeling which 
 renders them harmonious, that her acting seems the unstudied, 
 irrepressible impulse of her soul. With the first sentence she 
 uttered, 1 forgot Rachel. I only saw the innocent Roman girl ; 
 I awaited in suspense and with a powerful sympathy, the devel- 
 opement of the oft-told tragedy. My blood grew w^rm with in- 
 dignation when the words of Appius roused her to anger, and I 
 could scarcely keep back my tears, when, with a voice broken by 
 sobs, she bade farewell to the protecting gods of her father's hearth. 
 
 Among the bewildering variety of ancient ornaments and im- 
 plements in the Egyptian Gallery of the Louvre, I saw an object 
 of startling interest. A fragment of the Iliad, written nearly 
 three thousand years ago ! One may even dare to conjecture 
 that the torn and half-mouldered slip of papyrus, upon which he 
 gazes, may have been taken down from the lips of the immortal 
 Chian. The eyes look on those faded characters, and across the 
 great gulf of Time, the soul leaps into the Past, brought into 
 shadowy nearness by a mirage of the mind. There, as in the 
 desert, images start up, vivid, yet of a vague and dreamy beau- 
 ty. We see the olive groves of Greece — white-robed youths and 
 maidens sit in the shade of swaying boughs — and one of them 
 reads aloud, in words that sound like the clashing of shields, the 
 deeds ot Achilles. 
 
 As we step out the western portal of the Tuileries, a beautiful 
 scene greets us. We look on the palace garden, fragrant with 
 flowers and classic with bronze copies of ancient sculpture. Be- 
 yond this, broad gravel walks divide the flower-bordered lawns 
 and ranks of marble demigods and heroes look down on the joyous 
 crowd. Children troll their hoops along the avenues or skip the 
 rope under the clipped lindens, whose boughs are now tinged a 
 pale yellow by the bursting buds. The swans glide about on a 
 pond in the centre, begging bread of the bystanders, who watch a 
 miniature ship which the soft breeze carries steadily across. 
 Paris is unseen, but heard, on every side ; only the Column of 
 Luxor and the Arc de Triomphe rise blue and grand above the 
 
 17* 
 
370 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 top of the forest. What with the sound of voices, the merry 
 
 laufhter of the children and a host of smilino- faces, the scene 
 
 touches a happy chord in one's heart, and he mingles with it, lost 
 
 in pleasant reverie, till the sounds fade away with the fading 
 
 liaht. 
 
 Just below the Baths of the Louvre, there are several floating 
 
 barges belonging to the washer- women, anchored at the foot of 
 the great stone staircase leading down to the water. They stand 
 there day after day, beating their clothes upon flat boards and 
 rinsing them in the Seine. One day there seemed to have been 
 a wedding or some other cause of rejoicing among them, for a 
 large number of the youngest were talking in great glee on one 
 of the platforms of the staircase, while a handsome, German-look- 
 ing youth stood near, with a guitar slung around his neck. He 
 struck up a lively air, and ihe girls fell into a droll sort of a 
 dance. They went at it heavily and roughly enough, but made 
 up in good humor what they lacked in grace ; the older members 
 of the craft looked up from their work with satisfaction and many 
 shouts of applause were sent down to them from the spectators 
 on the Quai and the Pont Neuf. Not content with this, they 
 seized on some luckless men who were descending the steps, and 
 clasping them with their powerful right arms, spun them around 
 like so many tops and sent them whizzing off* at a tangent. Loud 
 bursts of laughter greeted this performance, and the stout river- 
 maidens returned to their dance with redoubled spirit. 
 
 Yesterday, the famous procession of the " b(Buf gras''' took 
 place for the second time, with great splendor. The order of 
 march had been duly announced beforehand, and by noon all the 
 streets and squares through which it was to pass, were crowded 
 with waiting spectators. Mounted gens d'armes rode constantly 
 to and fro, to direct the passage of vehicles and keep an open 
 thoroughfare. Thousands of country peasants poured into the 
 city, the boys of whom were seen in all directions, blowing dis- 
 tressingly through hollow ox-horns. Altogether, the spirit of 
 nonsense which animated the crowd, displayed itself very amu- 
 sino-lv. 
 
 A few mounted guards led the procession, followed by a band 
 of music. Then appeared Roman lictors and ofiicers of sacrifice, 
 
THE CARNIVAL IN PARIS. 371 
 
 leading Dagobcrt, the famous bull of Normandy, destined to the 
 honor of beino; slauijhtered as the Carnival beef. He trod rather 
 tenderly, finding, no doubt, a difference between the meadows of 
 Caen and the pavements o-f Paris, and I thought he would have 
 been willing to forego his gilded horns and flowery crown, to get 
 back there again. His weight was said to be four thousand pounds, 
 and the bills pompously declared that he had no rival in France, 
 except the elephant in the Jardin des Plantcs. 
 
 After him came the farmer by v/hom he was raised, and M. 
 Roland, the butcher of the carnival, followed by a hundred of the 
 same craft, dressed as cavaliers of the different ages of France. 
 They made a very showy appearance, although the faded velvet 
 and soiled tinsel of their mantles were rather too apparent by 
 daylight. 
 
 After all these had gone by, came an enormous triumphal car, 
 very profusely covered with gilding and ornamental flowers. A 
 fellow with long woollen hair ai:id beard, intended to represent 
 Time, acted as driver. In the car, under a gilded canopy, re- 
 posed a number of persons, in blue silk smocks and yellow " flesh- 
 tights," said to be Venus, Apollo, the Graces, &c. but I endea- 
 vored in vain to distinguish one divinity from another. However, 
 three children on the back seat, dressed in the same style, with 
 the addition of long flaxy ringlets, made very passable Cupids. 
 This closed the march ; which passed onward towards the Place 
 de la Concorde, accompanied by the sounds of music and the 
 shouts of the mob. The broad, splendid line of Boulevards, which 
 describe a semi-circle around tiie heart of the city, were crowded, 
 and for the whole distance of three miles, it required no slight 
 labor to make one's way. People in masks and fancy costumes 
 were continually passing and re-passing, and I detected in more 
 than one of the carriages, cheeks rather too fair to suit the slouched 
 hunter's hats which shaded them. It seemed as if all Paris was 
 taking a holiday, and resolved to make the most of it. 
 
372 VIEWS A-FOOT- 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF NORMANDY. 
 
 After a residence of five weeks, which, in spite of some few 
 troubles, passed away quickly and delightfully, I turned my back 
 on Paris. It was not regret 1 experienced on taking my seat in 
 the cars for Versailles, but that feeling of reluctance with which 
 we leave places whose brightness and gaiety force the mind away 
 from serious toil. Steam, however, cuts short all sentiment, and 
 in much less time than it takes to bid farewell to a German, we 
 had whizzed past the Place d^Europe, through the barrier, and 
 were watching the spires start up from the receding city, on the 
 way to St. Cloud. 
 
 At Versailles I spent three hours in a hasty walk through the 
 palace, which allowed but a bare glance at the gorgeous paintings 
 of Horace Vernet. His " Taking of Constantine" has the vivid 
 look of reality. The white houses shine in the sun, and from the 
 bleached earth to the blue and dazzling sky, there seems to hang 
 a heavy, scorching atmosphere. The white smoke of the artil- 
 lery curls almost visibly off the canvass, and the cracked and 
 half-sprung walls look as if about to topple down on the besiegers. 
 One series of halls is devoted to the illustration of the knightly 
 chronicles of France, from the days of Charlemagne to those of 
 Bayard and Gaston de Foix. Among these pictured legends, I 
 looked with the deepest interest on that of the noble girl of Orleans. 
 Her countenance — the same in all these pictures and in a beau- 
 tiful statue of her, which stands in one of the corridors — is said 
 to be copied from an old and well-authenticated portrait. United 
 to the sweetness and purity of peasant beauty, she has the lofty 
 brow and inspired expression of a prophetess. There is a soft 
 light in her full blue eye that does not belong to earth. I wonder 
 not the soldiery deemed her chosen by God to lead them to sue- 
 
WALKING IN NORMANDY. 373 
 
 cessful battle ; had I lived in those times I could have followed 
 her consecrated banner to the ends of the earth. In the statue, 
 she stands musing, with her head drooping forward, as if the 
 weight of the breastplate oppressed her woman's heart ; the mel- 
 ancholy soul which shines through the marble seems to forebode 
 the fearful winding-up of her eventful destiny. 
 
 The afternoon was somewhat advanced, by the time I had seen 
 the palace and gardens. After a hurried dinner at a restaurant, 
 I shouldered my knapsack and took the road to St. Germain. 
 The day was gloomy and cheerless, and I should have felt very 
 lonely but for the thought of soon reaching England. There is 
 no time of the year more melancholy than a cold, cloudy day in 
 March ; whatever may be the beauties of pedestrian traveling in 
 fairer seasons, my experience dictates that during winter storms 
 and March glooms, it had better be dispensed witli. However, I 
 pushed on to St. Germain, threaded its long streets, looked down 
 from the height over its magnificent tract of forest and turned west- 
 ward down the Seine. Owing to the scantiness of villages, I was 
 obliged to walk an hour and a half in the wind and darkness, be- 
 fore I reached a solitary inn. As I opened the door and asked 
 for lodging, the landlady inquired if I had the necessary papers. 
 I answered in the affirmative and was admitted. While I was 
 eating supper, they prepared their meal on the other end of the 
 small table and sat down together. They fell into the error, so 
 common to ignorant persons, of thinking a foreigner could not 
 understand them, and began talking quite unconcernedly about 
 me. " Why don't he take the railroad ?" said the old man : " he 
 must have very little money — it would be bad for us if he had 
 none." " Oh !" remarked his son, " if he had none, he would 
 not be sitting there so quiet and unconcerned." I thought there 
 was some knowledge of human nature in this remark. " And 
 besides," added the landlaay, " there is no danger for us, for we 
 have his passport." Of course I enjoyed this in secret, and men- 
 tally pardoned their suspicions, when I reflected that the hio-h 
 roads between Paris and London are frequented by many impos- 
 ters, which makes the people naturally mistrustful. I walked 
 all the next day through a beautiful and richly cultivated coun- 
 try. The early fruit trees were bursting into bloom, and the 
 
S74 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 farmers led out their cattle to pasturage in the fresh meadows. 
 The scenery must be delightful ir summer — worthy of all that 
 has been said or sung about lovely Normandy. On the morning 
 of the third day, before reaching Rouen, 1 saw at a distance the 
 remains of Chateau Galliard, the favorite castle of Richard Coeur 
 de Lion. Rouen breathes everywhere of the ancient times of 
 Normandy. Nothing can be more picturesque than its quaint, 
 irregular wooden houses, and the low, mossy mills, spanning the 
 clear streams which rush throu2;h its streets. The Cathedral, 
 with its four towers, rises from amono; the clustered cottages like 
 a giant rock, split by the lightning and worn by the rains of cen- 
 turies is into a thousand fantastic shapes. 
 
 Resuming my walk in the afternoon, I climbed the heights west 
 of the city, and after passing through a suburb four or five miles 
 in length, entered the vale of the Cailly. This is one of the 
 sweetest scenes in France. It lies among the woody hills like a 
 Paradise, with its velvet meadows and villas and breathing gar- 
 dens. The grass was starred with daisies and if I took a step 
 into the oak and chesnut woods, I trampled on thousands of anem- 
 ones and fragrant daifodils. The upland plain, stretching inward 
 from the coast, wears a different character. As I ascended, to- 
 wards evening, and walked over its monotonous swells, I felt 
 almost homesick beneath its saddening influence. The sun, 
 hazed over with dull clouds, gave out that cold and lifeless light 
 which is more lonely than complete darkness. The wind, sweep- 
 ing dismally over the fields, sent clouds of blinding dust down 
 the road, and as it passed through the forests, the myriads of fine 
 twigs sent up a sound as deep and grand as the roar of a roused 
 ocean. Every chink of the Norman cottage where I slept, whis- 
 tled most drearily, and as I looked out the little window of my 
 room, the trees were swaying in the gloom, and long, blacft clouds 
 scudded across the sky. Though my bed was poor and hard, it 
 was a sublime sound that cradled me into slumber. Homer might 
 have used it as the lullaby of Jove. 
 
 My last day on the continent came. I rose early and walked 
 over the hills towards Dieppe. The scenery grew more bleak as 
 1 approached the sea, but the low and sheltered valleys preserved 
 the pastoral look of the interior. In the afternoon, as I climbed 
 
CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 375 
 
 a long, elevated ridge, over which a strong northwester was blow- 
 ing, I was struck with a beautiful rustic church, in one of the 
 dells below me. While admiring its neat tower I had gained un- 
 consciously the summit of the hill, and on turning suddenly 
 around, lo ! there was the glorious old Atlantic stretching far be- 
 fore and around me ! A shower was sweeping mistily along the 
 horizon and I could trace the white line of the breakers that 
 foamed at the foot of the cliffs. The scene came over me like a 
 vivid electric shock, and I gave an involuntary shout, which 
 might have been heard in all the valleys around. After a year 
 and a half of wandering over the continent, that gray ocean was 
 something to be revered and loved, for it clasped the shores of my 
 native America. 
 
 I entered Dieppe in a heavy shower, and after finding an inn 
 suited to my means and obtaining a permis rV emharquement from 
 the police office, I went out to the battlements and looked again on 
 the sea. The landlord promised to call me in time for the boat, 
 but my anxiety waked me sooner, and mistaking the strokes of 
 the cathedial bell, I shouldered my knapsack and went down to 
 the wharf at one o'clock. No one was stirring on board the boat, 
 and I was obliged to pace the silent, gloomy streets of the town 
 for two hours. I watched the steamer glide out on the rainy 
 channel, and turning into the topmost berth, drew the sliding cur- 
 tain and strove to keep out cold and sea-sickness. But it was 
 unavailing ; a heavy storm of snow and rain rendered our passage 
 so dreary that I did not stir until we were approaching the chain 
 pier of Brighton. 
 
 I looked out on the foggy shores of England with a feeling of 
 relief; my tongue would now be freed from the difficult bondage 
 of foreign languages, and my ears be rejoiced with the music of 
 my own. After two hours' delay at the Custom House, I took 
 my seat in an open car for London. The day was dull and cold ; 
 the sun resembled a milky blotch in the midst of a leaden sky. I 
 sat and shivered, as ^ve flew onv/ard, amid the rich, cultivated 
 English scenery. At last the fog grew thicker ; the road was 
 carried over the tops of houses ; the familiar domd* of St. Paul's 
 stood out above the sp.res ; and I was again in London ' 
 
376 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 LaCKHART, BERNARD BARTON AND CROLY LONDON CHIMES AND 
 
 GREENWICH FAIR. 
 
 My circumstances, on arriving at London, were again very 
 reduced. A franc and a Iialf constituted the whole of my funds. 
 This, joined to the knowledge of London expenses, rendered in- 
 stant exertion necessary, to prevent still greater embarrassment. 
 I called on a printer the next morning, hoping to procure work, 
 but found, as I had no documents with me to show I had served a 
 regular apprenticeship, this would be extremely difficult, although 
 workmen were in great demand. Mr. Putnam, however, on 
 whom I had previously called, gave me employment for a time in 
 his publishing establishment, and thus I was fortunately enabled 
 to await the arrival of a remittance from home. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope, whom I met in Florence, kindly gave me a 
 letter to Murray, the publisher, and I visited him soon after my 
 arrival. In his library I saw the original portraits of Byron, 
 Moore, Campbell and the other authors who were intimate with 
 him and his father. A day or two afterwards I had the good for- 
 tune to breakfast with Lockhart and Bernard Barton, at the house 
 of the former. Mr. Murray, through whom the invitation was 
 given, accompanied me there. As it was late when we arrived 
 at Regent's Park, we found them waiting, and sat down immedi- 
 ately to breakfast. 
 
 I was much pleased with Lockhart's appearance and manners. 
 He has a noble, manly countenance — in fact, the handsomest 
 English face I ever saw — a quick, dark eye and an ample fore- 
 head, shaded by locks which show, as yet, but few threads of 
 gray. There is a peculiar charm in his rich, soft voice ; espe- 
 cially when teciting poetry, it has a clear, organ-like vibration, 
 which thrills deliciously on the ear. His daughter, who sat at the 
 head of the table, is a most lovely and amiable girL 
 
BERNARD BARTON. 377 
 
 Bernard Barton, who is now quite an old man, is a very lively 
 and sociable Friend. His head is gray and almost bald, but 
 there is still plenty of fire in his eyes and life in his limbs. His 
 many kind and amiable qualities endear him to a large circle of 
 literary friends. He still continues writing, and within the last 
 year has brought out a volume of simple, touching " Household 
 Verses." A picture of cheerful and contented old age has never 
 been more briefly and beautifully drawn, than in the following 
 lines, which he sent me, in answer to my desire to possess one of 
 his poems in his own hand : 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I feel that I am growing old, 
 
 Nor wish, to hide that truth ; 
 Conscious my heart is not more cold 
 
 Than in my by -gone youth. 
 
 I cannot roam the country round, 
 
 As I was wont to do ; 
 My feet a scantier circle bound, 
 
 My eyes a narrower view. 
 
 But on my mental vision rise 
 
 Bright scenes of beanty still: 
 Morn's splendor, evening's glowing skies, 
 
 Valley, and grove, and hill. 
 
 Nor can infirmities o'erwhelm 
 
 The purer pleasures brought 
 From the immortal spirit's realm 
 
 Of Feeling and of Thought ! 
 
 My heart ! let not dismay or doubt 
 
 In thee an entrance win ! 
 Thou hast enjoyed thyself without — 
 
 Now seek thy joy within ! 
 
 During breakfast he related to us a pleasant anecdote of Scott. 
 He once wrote to the poet in behalf of a young lady, who wished 
 to have the description of Melrose, in the " Lay of the last Min- 
 strel," in the poet's own writing. Scott sent it, but added the.se 
 lines to the conclusion : 
 
378 VIEWS A- FOOT. 
 
 ■' Then go, and muse with deepest awe 
 On what the writer never saw ; 
 Who would not wander 'neath the moon 
 To see what he could see at noon !'*' 
 
 We went afterwards into Lockhart's library, which was full of 
 interesting objects. I saw the private diary of Scott, kept until 
 within a short time of his death. It was melancholy to trace the 
 gradual failing of all his energies in the very wavering of the 
 autograph. In a large volume of his correspondence, containing 
 letters from Campbell, Wordsworth, Byron, and all the distin- 
 guished characters of the age, I saw Campbell's " Battle of the 
 Baltic" in his own hand. I was highly interested and gratified 
 with the whole visit ; the more so, as Mr. Lockhart had invited 
 me voluntarily, without previous acquaintance. I have since 
 heard him spoken of in the highest terms of esteem. 
 
 1 went one Sunday to the Church of St. Stephen, to hear Croly, 
 the poet. The service, read by a drowsy clerk, was long and 
 monotonous ; I sat in a side-aisle, looking up at the dome, and 
 listening to the rain which dashed in torrents against the window- 
 panes. At last, a tall, gray-haired man came down the passage. 
 He bowed vvith a sad smile, so full of benevolence and resigna- 
 tion, that it went into my heart at once, and I gave him an in- 
 voluntary tribute of sympathy. He has a heavy affliction to 
 bear — the death of his gallant son, one of the officers who were 
 slain in the late battle of Ferozeshaw. His whole manner be- 
 trays the tokens of subdued but constant grief. 
 
 His sermon was peculiarly finished and appropriate ; the lan- 
 guage was clear and forcible, without that splendor of thought 
 and dazzling vividness of imagery which mark " Salathiel." Yet I 
 could not help noticing that he delighted to dwell on the spiritualities 
 of religion, rather than its outward observances, which he seemed 
 inclined to hurry over as lightly as possible. His mild, gray eye 
 and lofty forehead are more like the benevolent divine than the 
 poet. I thought of Salathiel, and looked at the dignified, sorrow- 
 ful man before me. The picture of the accursed Judean van- 
 ished, and his own solemn lines rang on my ear ; 
 
THE CHIMES OF LONDON. 379 
 
 " The mighty grave 
 Wraps lord and slave, 
 Nor pride, nor poverty dares come 
 Within that prison-house, that tomb !" 
 
 Whenever I hear them, or think of them again, I shall see, m 
 memory, Croly's calm, pale countenance. 
 
 " The chimes, the chimes of Mother-land, 
 Of England, green and old ; 
 That out from thane and ivied tower 
 A thousand years have tolled !" 
 
 1 often thought of Coxe's beautiful ballad, when, after a day 
 spent in Waterloo Place, I have listened, on my way homeward, 
 to the chimes of Mary-le-bone Chapel, sounding sweetly and 
 clearly above all the din of the Strand. There is something in 
 their silvery vibration, which is far more expressive than the or- 
 dinary tones of a bell. The ear becomes weary of a continued 
 toll — the sound of some bells seems to have nothing more in it 
 than the ordmary clang of metal — but these simple notes, follow- 
 ing one another so melodiously, fall on the ear, stunned by the 
 ceaseless roar of carriages or the mingled cries of the mob, as 
 gently and gratefully as drops of dew. Whether it be morning, 
 and they ring out louder and deeper through the mist, or mid- 
 night, when the vast ocean of being beneath them surges less 
 noisily than its wont, they are alike full of melody and poetry. 
 I have often paused, deep in the night, to hear those clear tones, 
 dropping down from the darkness, thrilling, with their full, trem- 
 ulous sweetness, the still air of the lighted Strand, and winding 
 away through dark, silent lanes and solitary courts, till the ear of 
 the care-worn watcher is scarcely stirred with their dying vibra- 
 tions. They seemed like those spirit-voices, which, at such times, 
 speak almost audibly to the heart. How delicious it must be, to 
 those who dwell within the limits of their sound, to wake from 
 Bome happy dream and hear those chimes blending in with their 
 midnight fancies, like the musical echo of the promised bliss. I 
 love these eloquent bells, and I think there must be many, living 
 out a life of misery and suffering, to whom their tones come with 
 an almost human consolation. The natures of the very cockneys 
 
380 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 who never go without the horizon of their vibrations, is, to my 
 mind, invested with one hue of poetry ! 
 
 A ^e\w days ago, an American friend invited me to accompany 
 him to Greenwich Fair. We took a penny steamer from Hunger- 
 ford iMarket to London Bridge, and jumped into the cars, which 
 go every five minutes. Twelve minutes' ride above the chim- 
 neys of London and the vegetable-fields of Rotherhithe and Dept- 
 ford brought us to Greenwich, and we followed the stream of people 
 which was flowing from all parts of the city into the Park. 
 
 Here began the merriment. We heard on every side the noise of 
 the " scratchers," or, as the venders of these articles denominated 
 them — " the fun of the fair." By this is meant a little notched 
 wheel, with a piece of wood fastened on it, like a miniature watch- 
 man's rattle. The " fun" consists in drawing them down the 
 back of any one you pass, when they make a sound precisely 
 like that of ripping cloth. The women take great delight in this, 
 and as it is only deemed politeness to return the compliment, we 
 soon had enough to do. Nobody seemed to take the diversion 
 amiss, but it was so irresistibly droll to see a large crowd en- 
 gaged in this singular amusement, that we both burst into hearty 
 laughter. 
 
 As we began ascending Greenwich Hill, we were assailed with 
 another kind of game. The ground was covered with smashed 
 oranges, with which the people above and below were stoutly 
 pelting each other. Half a dozen heavy ones whizzed uncom- 
 fortably near my head as I went up, and I saw several persons 
 get the full benefit of a shot on their backs and breasts. The 
 young country lads and lasses amused themselves by running at 
 full speed down the steep side of a hill. This was, however, a 
 feat attended with some risk ; for I saw one luckless girl describe 
 an arc of a circle, of which her feet was the centre and her body 
 the radius. All was noise and nonsense. They ran to and fro 
 under the long, hoary boughs of the venerable oaks that crest the 
 summit, and clattered down the magnificent forest-avenues, whose 
 budding foliage gave them little shelter from the passing April 
 showers. 
 
 The view from the top is splendid. The stately Thames curves 
 through the plain below, which loses itself afar off in the mist ; 
 
GREENWICH FAIR. 381 
 
 Greenwich, with its massive hospital, lies just at one's feet, and 
 in a clear day the domes of London skirt the horizon. The wood 
 of the Park is entirely oak — the majestic, dignified, English oak — 
 which covers, in picturesque clumps, the sides and summits of 
 the two billowy hills. It must be a sweet place in summer, 
 when the dark, massive foliage is heavy on every mossy arm, 
 and the smooth and curving sward shines with thousands of field- 
 flowers. 
 
 Owing to the showers, the streets were coated with mud, of a 
 consistence as soft and yielding as the most fleecy Persian car- 
 pet. Near the gate, boys were holding scores of donkeys, which 
 they offered us at threepence for a ride of two miles. We walked 
 down towards the river, and came at last to a group of tumblers, 
 who with muddy hands and feet were throwing somersets in 
 the open street. I recognized them as old acquaintances of the 
 Rue St. Antoine and the Champs Elysees ; but the little boy 
 who cried before, because he did not want to bend his head and 
 feet into a ring, like a hoop-snake, had learned his part better by 
 this time, so that he went through it all without whimpering and 
 came off" with only a fiery red face. The exercises of the young 
 gentlemen were of course very graceful and classic, and the 
 effect of their jposes of strength was very much heightened by the 
 muddy foot-marks which they left on each other's orange-colored 
 skins. 
 
 The avenue of booths was still more diverting. Here under 
 sheets of leaky awning, were exposed for sale rows of gilded gin- 
 gerbread kings and queens, and 1 cannot remember how many 
 men and women held me fast by the arms, determined to force me 
 into buying a pound of them. We paused at the sign : " Sig>."or 
 Urbani's Grand Magical Display." The title was attractive, 
 so we paid the penny admission, and walked behind the dark, 
 mysterious curtain. Two bare brick walls, three benches and a 
 little boy appeared to us. A sheet hung before us upon which 
 quivered the shadow of some terrible head. At my friend's com- 
 mand, the boy (also a spectator) put out the light, when the awful 
 and grinning face of a black woman became visible. While we 
 were admiring this striking production, thus mysteriously revealed, 
 Signer Urbani came in, and seeing no hope of any more specta- 
 
3S2 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 tors, went behind the curtain and startled our sensi-tive nerves 
 with six or seven skeleton and devil apparition?'., winding up the 
 wonderful entertainment with the same black bead. We signi- 
 fied our entire approbation by due applause and then went out to 
 seek further novelties. 
 
 The centre of the square was occupied by swings, where some 
 eight or ten boat-loads of persons were flying topsy-turvy into the 
 air, making one giddy to look at them, and constant fearful shrieks 
 arose from the lady swingers, at finding themselves in a horizon- 
 tal or inverted position, high above the ground. One of the ma- 
 chines was like a great wheel, with four cars attached, which 
 mounted and descended with their motley freight. We got into 
 the boat by way of experiment. The starting motion was pleas- 
 ant, but very soon it flew with a swiftness and to a height rather 
 alarming. I began to repent having chosen such a mode of 
 amusement, but held on as well as I could, in my uneasy place. 
 Presently we mounted till the long beam of our boat was horizon- 
 tal ; at one instant, I saw three young ladies below me, with their 
 heads downward, like a shadow in the water — the next I was 
 turned heels up, looking at them as a shadow does at its original. 
 I was fast becominsT sea-sick, when, after a few minutes of such 
 giddy soaring, the ropes were slackened and we all got out, look- 
 ing somewhat pale, and feeling nervous, if nothing else. 
 
 There were also many great tents, hung with boughs and light- 
 ed with innumerable colored lamps, where the people danced 
 their country dances in a choking cloud of dry saw-dust. Con- 
 jurors and gymnastic performers were showing off on conspicu- 
 ous platforms, and a continual sound of drums, cymbals and shrill 
 trumpets called the attention of the crowd to some " Wonderful 
 Exhibition" — some infant phenomenon, giant, or three-headed 
 pig. A great part of the crowd belonged evidently to the very 
 worst part of society, but the watchfulness of the police prevented 
 any open disorder. We came away early and in a quarter of an 
 hour were in busy London, leaving far behind us the revel and 
 debauch, which was prolonged through the whole night. 
 
 London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy atmos- 
 pheres in the world. During this opening spring weather, no 
 light and scarcely an;" warmth can penetrate the dull, yellowish- 
 
A LONDON FOG 383 
 
 gray mist, which incessantly hangs over the city. Sometimes 
 at noon we have for an hour or two a sickly gleam of sunshine, 
 but it is soon swallowed up by the smoke and drizzling fog. The 
 people carry umbrellas at all times, for the rain seems to drop 
 spontaneously out of the very air, without waiting for the usual 
 preoaration of a gathering cloud. Professor Espy's rules would 
 be of little avail here. 
 
 A few days ago we had a real fog — a specimen of November 
 weather, as the people said. If November wears such a mantle, 
 London, during that sober month, must furnish a good idea of the 
 gloom of Hades. The streets were wrapped in a veil of dense 
 mist, of a dirty yellow color, as if the air had suddenly grown 
 thick and mouldy. The houses on the opposite sides of the street 
 were invisible, and the gas-lamps, lighted in the shops, burned 
 with a white and ghastly flame. Carriages ran together in the 
 streets, and I was kept constantly on the look-out, lest some one 
 should come suddenly out of the cloud around me, and we should 
 meet with a shock like that of two knitrhts at a tournament. As 
 I stood in the centre of Trafalgar Square, with every object in- 
 visible around me, it reminded me, (hoping the comparison will 
 not be accepted in every particular) of Satan resting in the mid- 
 dle of Chaos. The weather sometimes continues thus for whole 
 days together. 
 
 April 26. — An hour and a half of land are still allowed us, 
 and then we shall set foot on the back of the oak-ribbed leviathan, 
 which will be our home until a thousand leagues of blue ocean 
 are crossed. I shall hear the old Aldgate clock strike for the 
 last time — I shall take a last walk through the Minories and past 
 the Tower yard, and as we glide down the Thames, St. Pauls, 
 half-hidden in mist and coal-smoke, will probably be my last 
 glimpse of London. 
 
384 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND CONCLUSION. 
 
 We slid out of St. Katharine's Dock at noon on the appointed 
 day, and with a pair of sooty steamboats hitched to our vessel, 
 moved slowly down the Thames in mist and drizzling rain. I 
 stayed on the wet deck all afternoon, that I might more forci- 
 bly and joyously feel we were again in motion on the waters and 
 homeward bound ! My attention was divided between the dreary 
 views of Blackwall, Greenwich and Woolwich, and the motley 
 throng of passengers who were to form our ocean society. An 
 English family, going out to settle in Canada, were gathered 
 together in great distress and anxiety, for the father had gone 
 ashore in London at a late hour, and was left behind. When we 
 anchored for the night at Gravesend, their fears were quieted by 
 his arrival in a skiff from the shore, as he had immediately fol- 
 lowed us by railroad. 
 
 My cousin and B had hastened on from Paris to join me, and 
 
 a day before the sailing of the " Victoria," we took berths in the 
 second cabin, for twelve pounds ten shillings each, which in the 
 London line of packets, includes coarse but substantial fare for 
 the whole voyage. Our funds were insufficient to pay even this; 
 but Captain Morgan, less mistrustful than mj'^ Norman landlord, 
 generously agreed that the remainder of the fare should be paid 
 
 in America. B and I, with two young Englishmen, took 
 
 possession of a state-room of rough boards, lighted by a bull's- 
 eye, which in stormy weather leaked so much that our trunks 
 swam in water. A narrow mattrass and blanket, with a knap- 
 .sack for a pillow, formed a passable bed. A long entry between 
 the rooms, lighted by a feeble swinging lamp, was filled with a 
 board table, around which the thirty-two second cabin passengers 
 
THE CHANNEL. 385 
 
 met to discuss politics and salt pork, favorable winds and hard 
 sea-biscuit. 
 
 We lay becalmed opposite Sheerness the whole of the second 
 day. At duslra sudden squall came up, which drove us foam- 
 ing towards the North Foreland. When I went on deck in the 
 morning, we had passed Dover and Brighton, and the Isle of 
 Wight was rising dim ahead of us. The low English coast on 
 our right was bordered by long reaches of dazzling chalky sand, 
 which glittered along the calm blue water. 
 
 Gliding into the Bay of Portsmouth, we dropped anchor oppo- 
 site the romantic town of Ryde, built on the sloping shore of the 
 green Isle of Wight. Eight or nine vessels of the Experimental 
 Squadron were anchored near us, and over the houses of Ports- 
 mouth, I saw the masts of the Victory — the flag-ship in the battle 
 of Trafalgar, on board of which Nelson was killed. The wind 
 w^as not strong enough to permit the passage of the Needles, so 
 at midnight we succeeded in wearing back again into the channel, 
 around the Isle of Wight. A head wind forced us to tack away 
 towards the shore of France. We were twice in sio;ht of the 
 rocky coast of Brittany, near Cherbourg, but the misty promon- 
 tory of Land's End was our last glimpse of the old world. 
 
 On one of our first days at sea, I caught a curlew, which came 
 flying on weary wings towards us, and alighted on one of the 
 boats. Two of his brethren, too much exhausted or too timid to 
 do likewise, dropped flat on the waves and resigned themselves 
 to their fate without a struggle. I slipped up and caught his 
 long, lank legs, while he was resting with flagging wings and 
 half-shut eyes. We fed him, though it was diificult to get any- 
 thing down his reed-shaped bill ; but he took kindly to our force- 
 work, and when we let him loose on the deck, walked about with 
 an air quite tame and familiar. He died, however, two days after- 
 wards. A French pigeon, which was caught in the rigging, Jived 
 and throve during the whole of the passage. 
 
 A few days afterwards, a heavy storm came on, and we were 
 all sleepless and sea-sick, as long as it lasted. Thanks, however, 
 to a beautiful law of memory, the recollection of that dismal pe- 
 riod soon lost its unpleasantness, while the grand forms of beauty 
 the vexed ocean presented, will remain forever, as distinct and 
 
 18 
 
386 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 abiding images. I kept on deck as long as I could stand, watch- 
 ing the giant waves over which our vessel took her course. They 
 rolled up towards us, thirty or forty feet in height — dark gray 
 masses, changing to a beautiful vitriol tint, wherever the light 
 struck through their countless and changing crests. It was aj 
 glorious thing to see our good ship mount slowly up the side of 
 one of these watery hills, till her prow was lifted high in air, 
 then, rocking over its brow, plunge with a slight quiver down- 
 ward, and plough' up a briny cataract, as she struck the vale. I 
 never before realized the terrible sublimity of the sea. And yet 
 it was a pride to see how man — strong in his godlike will — could 
 bid defiance to those whelming surges, and brave their wrath 
 unharmed. 
 
 We swung up and down on the billows, till we scarcely knew 
 which way to stand. The most grave and sober personages sud- 
 denly found themselves reeling in a very undignified manner, 
 and not a few measured their lengths on the slippery decks. 
 Boxes and barrels were affected in like manner ; everything 
 danced around us. Trunks ran out from under the berths ; 
 packages leaped down from the shelves; chairs skipped across 
 the rooms, and at table, knives, forks and mugs engaged in a 
 general waltz and Ireak down. One incident of this kind was 
 rather laughable. One night, about midnight, the gale, which 
 had been blowing violently, suddenly lulled, " as if," to use a sai- 
 lors phrase, " it had been chopped off!" Instantly the ship gave 
 a tremendous lurch, which was the signal for a general breaking 
 loose. Two or three others followed, so violent, that for a mo- 
 ment I imagined the vessel had been thrown on her beam ends. 
 Trunks, crockery and barrels went banging down from one end 
 of the ship to the other. The women in the steerage set up an 
 awful scream, and the German emigrants, thinking we were in 
 terrible danger, commenced praying with might and main. In 
 the passage near our room stood several barrels, filled with 
 broken dishes, which at every lurch went banging from side to 
 side, jarring the board partition and making a horrible din. I 
 shall not soon forget the Babel which kept our eyes open that 
 night. 
 
 The 19th of May a calm came on. Our white wings flapped 
 
ON THE ATLANTIC. 387 
 
 idly on the mast, and only the top-gallant sails were bent enough 
 occasionally to lug us along at a mile an hour. A barque from 
 Ceylon, making the most of the wind, with every rag of canvass 
 set, passed us slowly on the way eastward. The sun went down 
 unclouded, and a glorious starry night brooded over us. Its 
 clearness and brightness were to me indications of America. I 
 longed to be on shore. The forests about home were then clothed 
 in the delicate green of their first leaves, and that bland weather 
 embraced the sweet earth like a blessing of heaven. The gentle 
 breath from out the west seemed made for the odor of violets, and 
 as it came to me over the slightly-ruffled deep, I thought how much 
 sweeter it were to feel it, while " wasting in wood-paths the volup- 
 tuous hours." 
 
 Soon afterwards a fresh wind sprung up, which increased rap- 
 idly, till every sail was bent to the full. Our vessel parted the 
 brine with an arrowy glide, the ease and grace of which it is im- 
 possible to describe. The breeze held on steadily for two or 
 three days, which brought us to the southern extremity of the 
 Banks. Here the air felt so sharp and chilling, that I was afraid 
 we might be under the lee of an iceberg, but in the evening the 
 dull gray mass of clouds lifted themselves from the horizon, and 
 the sun set in clear, American beauty away beyond Labrador. 
 The next morning we were enveloped in a dense fog, and the 
 wind which bore us onward was of a piercing coldness. A sharp 
 look-out was kept on the bow, but as we could see but a short 
 distance, it might have been dangerous had we met one of the 
 Arctic squadron. At noon it cleared away again, and the bank 
 of fog was visible a long time astern, piled along the horizon, 
 reminding me of the Alps, as seen from the plains of Piedmont. 
 
 On the 31st, the fortunate wind which carried us from the 
 Banks, failed us about thirty-five miles from Sandy Hook. We 
 lay in the midst of the mackerel fishery, with small schooners 
 anchored all around us. Fog, dense and impenetrable, weighed 
 on the moveless ocean, like an atmosphere of wool. The only 
 incident to break the horrid monotony of the day, was the arrival 
 of a pilot, with one or two newspapers, detailing the account of 
 the Mexican war. We heard in the afternoon the booming of the 
 surf along the low beach of Long Island — hollow atid faint, like 
 
388 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 the murmur of a shell. When the mist lifted a little, we saw the 
 faint line of breakers along the shore. The Germans gathered 
 on deck to sing their old, familiar songs, and their voices blended 
 beautifully together in the stillness. 
 
 Next morning at sunrise we saw Sandy Hook ; at nine o'clock 
 we were telegraphed in New York by the station at Coney Island ; 
 at eleven the steamer " Hercules" met us outside the Hook ; and 
 at noon we were gliding up the Narrows, with the whole ship's 
 company of four hundred persons on deck, gazing on the beau- 
 tiful shores of Staten Island and agreeing almost universally, that 
 it was the most delightful scene they had ever looked upon. 
 
 And now I close the story of my long wandering, as I began it 
 —with a lay written on the deep. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 Farewell to Europe ! Days have come and gone 
 Since misty England set behind the sea. 
 Our ship climbs onward o'er the lifted waves, 
 That gather up in ridges, mountain-high, 
 And like a sea-god. conscious in his power. 
 Buffets the surges. Storm-arousing winds 
 That sweep, unchecked, from frozen Labrador, 
 Make wintry music through the creaking shrouds. 
 Th* horizon's ring, that clasps the dreary view, 
 Lays mistily upon the gray Atlantic's breast. 
 Shut out, at times, by bulk of sparry blue, 
 That, rolling near us, heaves the swaying prow 
 High on its shoulders, to descend again 
 Ploughing a thousand cascades, and around 
 Spreading the frothy foam. These watery gulfs, 
 With storm, and winds far-sweeping, hem us in, 
 Alone upon the waters! 
 
 Days must pass — 
 Many and weary — between sea and sky. 
 Our eyes, that long e'en now for the fresh green 
 Of sprouting forests, and the far blue stretch 
 Of regal mountains piled along the sky, 
 Must see, for many an eve, the level sun 
 Sheathe, with his latest gold, the heaving brine, 
 By thousand ripples shivered, or Night's pomp 
 Brftoding in silence, ebon and profound, 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 389 
 
 Upon the murmuring darkness of the deep, 
 
 Broken by flashings, that the parted "wave 
 
 Sends white and star-like through its bursting foam. 
 
 Yet not more dear the opening dawn of heaven 
 
 Poured on the earth in an Italian May, 
 
 When souls take wings upon the scented air 
 
 Of starry meadows, and the yearning heart 
 
 Pains with deep sweetness in the balmy time, 
 
 Than these gray morns, and days of misty blue. 
 
 And surges, never-ceasing ; — for our prow 
 
 Points to the sunset like a morning ray, 
 
 And o'er the waves, and through the sweeping storms, 
 
 Through day and darkness, rushes ever on, 
 
 Westward and Vv^estAvard still ! What joy can send 
 
 The spirit thrilling onward with the wind. 
 
 In untamed exultation, like the thought 
 
 That fills the Homeward Bound ? 
 
 Country and home! 
 Ah ! not the charm of silver-tongued romance, 
 Born of the feudal time, nor whatsoe'er 
 Of dying glory fills the golden realms 
 Of perished song, where heaven-descended Art 
 Still boasts her later triumphs, can compare 
 With that one thought of liberty inherited — 
 Of free life giv'n b}^ fathers who were free. 
 And to be left to children freer still ! 
 That pride and consciousness of manhood, caught 
 From boyish musings on the holy graves 
 Of hero-martyrs, and from every form 
 Which virgin Nature, mighty and unchained, 
 Takes in an empire not less proudly so — 
 Inspired in mountain airs, untainted yet 
 By thousand generations' breathing — felt 
 Like a near presence in the awful depths 
 Of unhewn forests, and upon the steep 
 Where giant rivers take their maddening plunge- 
 Has grown impatient of the stifling damps 
 Which hover close on Europe's shackled soil. 
 Content to tread awhile the holy steps 
 Of Art and Genius, sacred through all time, 
 The spirit breathed that dull, oppressive air — 
 Which, freighted with its tyrant-clouds, o'erweighs 
 The upward throb of many a nation's «oul — 
 Amid those olden memories, felt the thrall. 
 
390 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 But kept tlie birth-right of its freer home. 
 Here, on the world's blue highway, comes again 
 The voice of Freedom, heard amid the roar 
 Of sundered billows, while above the wave 
 Rise visions of the forest and the stream. 
 Like trailing robes the morning mists uproll, 
 Torn by the mountain pines : the flashing rills 
 Shout downward through the hollows of the vales ; 
 Down the great river's bosom shining sails 
 Glide with a gradual motion, while from all — 
 Hamlet, and bowered homestead, and proud town — 
 Voices of joy ring far up into heaven ! 
 
 Yet louder, winds I Urge on our keel, ye waves, 
 Swift as the spirit's yearnings ! "We would ride 
 With a loud stormy motion o'er your crests. 
 With tempests shouting like a sudden joy — 
 Interpreting our triumph ! 'Tis your voice. 
 Ye unchained elements, alone can speak 
 The sympathetic feeling of the free — 
 The arrowy impulse of the Homeward Bound! 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe the excitement of that afternoon. 
 After thirty-seven days between sky and water, any shore would 
 have been beautiful, but when it was home, after we had been two 
 years absent, during an age when time is always slow, it required a 
 powerful effort to maintain any propriety of manner. The steward 
 prepared a parting dinner, much better than any we had had at sea ; 
 but I tried in vain to eat. Never were trees such a glorious green 
 as those around the Quarantine Buildings, M^here we lay to for half 
 an hour, to be visited by the physician. The day was cloudy, and 
 thick mist hung on the tops of the hills, but I felt as if I could never 
 tire looking at the land. 
 
 At last we approached the city. It appeared smaller than when 
 I left, but this might have been because I was habituated to the 
 broad distances of the sea. Our scanty baggage was brought on 
 deck, for the inspection of the custom-house officer, but we were 
 neither annoyed nor delayed by the operation. The steamer by 
 this time had taken us to the pier at Pine-street wharf, and the slight 
 
LANDING AT NEW- YORK. 391 
 
 jar of the vessel as she came alongside, sent a thrill of delight 
 through our frames. But when finally the ladder was let down, and 
 we sprang upon the pier, it was with an electric shock, as if of recog- 
 nition from the very soil. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, 
 and we were glad that night was so near at hand. After such 
 strong excitement, and even bewilderment of feeling as we had 
 known since morning, the prospect of rest was very attractive. 
 
 But no sooner were we fairly deposited in a hotel, than we must 
 needs see the city again. How we had talked over this hour ! How 
 we had thought of the life, the neatness, the comfort of our Ameri- 
 can cities, when rambling through some filthy and depopulated 
 capital of the Old World ! At first sight, our anticipations were not 
 borne out ; there had been heavy rains for a week or two, and the 
 streets were not remarkably clean ; houses were being built up or 
 taken down, on all sides, and the number of trees in full foliage, 
 every where visible, gave us the idea of an immense unfinished 
 country town. I took this back, it is true, the next morning, when the 
 sun was br'ght and the streets were thronged with people. But what 
 activity, what a restless eagerness and even keenness of expression 
 on every countenance.! I could not have believed that the general 
 cast of the American face was so sharp ; yet nothing was so re- 
 markable as the perfect independence of manner which we noticed 
 in all, down to the very children. I can easily conceive how this 
 should jar with the feelings of a stranger, accustomed to the defer- 
 ence, not to say servility, in which the largest class of the people 
 of Europe is trained ; but it was a most refreshing change to us. 
 
 Life at sea sharpens one's sensibilities to the sounds and scents 
 of land, in a very high degree. We noticed a difference in the at- 
 mosphere of different streets, and in the scent of leaves and grass, 
 which a land friend who was with us failed entirely to distinguish. 
 The next day, as we left New- York, and in perfect exultation of 
 spirit sped across New Jersey, (which was never half so beautiful 
 to our eyes,) I could feel nothing but one continued sensation of the 
 country — fragrant hay-field and wild clearing, garden and marshy 
 hollow, and the cool shadow of the woodlands — I was by turns pos- 
 seted with the spirit of them all. The twilight deepened as we 
 
392 VIEWS A-FOCT. 
 
 passed dpwn the Delaware ; I stood on the promenade deck and 
 watched the evening star kindling through the cloudless flush of 
 sunset, while the winds that came over the glassy river bore me the 
 odor of long-remembered meadow flowers. We asked each other 
 what there was in the twilights of Florence and Vallambrosa more 
 delicious than this ? 
 
 A night in neat, cheerful, home-like Philadelphia, whose dimen- 
 sions were also a little shrunken in our eyes, and a glorious June 
 morning broke on the last day of our pilgrimage. Again we were 
 on the Delaware, pacing the deck in rapture at the green, luxuriant 
 beauty of its shores. Is it not worth years of absence, to learn how 
 to love one's land as it should be loved ? Two or three hours 
 brought us to Wilmington, in Delaware, and within twelve miles of 
 home. Now came the realization of a plan we had talked over a 
 hundred times, to keep up our spirits when the weather was gloomy, 
 or the journey lay through some waste of barren country. Our 
 knapsacks, which had been laid down in Paris, were again taken 
 up, slouched German hats substituted for our modern black cylin- 
 ders, belt and blouse donned, and the pilgrim staff" grasped for the 
 rest of our journey. But it was part of ou*- plan, that we should 
 not reach home till after nightfall ; we could not think of seeing any 
 one we knew before those who were nearest to us ; and so it was 
 necessary to wait a few hours before starting. 
 
 The time came : that walk of three or four hours seemed longer 
 than many a day's tramp of thirty miles, but every step of the way 
 was familiar ground. The people we met stared, laughed, or look- 
 ed suspiciously after us, but we were quite insensible to any obser- 
 vation. We only counted the fields, measured the distance from 
 hill to hill, and watched the gradual decline of the broad, bright sun. 
 It went down at last, and our homes were not far off. When the 
 twilight grew deeper, we parted, and each thought what an experi- 
 ence lay between that moment and the next morning. I took to the 
 fields, plunged into a sea of dewy clover, and made for a ligh 
 which began to glimmer as it grew darker. When I reached it 
 and looked with the most painful excitement through the window a 
 the unsuspecting group within, there was not onn face missing. 
 
REQUISITES FOR A PEDESTRIAN. 393 
 
 CHAPTER S.LIX. 
 
 ADVICE AND INFORMATION FOR PEDESTRIANS. 
 
 Although the narrative of my journey, " with knapsack and 
 staff," is now strictly finished, a few more words of explanation 
 seem necessary, to describe more fully the method of traveling 
 which we adopted. I add them the more willingly, as it is my be- 
 lief that many, whose circumstances are similar to mine, desire to 
 undertake the same romantic journey. Some matter-of-fact state- 
 ments may be to them useful as well as interesting. 
 
 To see Europe as a pedestrian requires little preparation, if the 
 traveler is willing to forego some of the refinements of living to 
 which he may have been accustomed, for the sake of the new and 
 interesting fields of observation which will be opened to him. He 
 must be content to sleep on hard beds, and partake of coarse fare ; 
 to undergo rudeness at times from the officers of the police and the 
 porters of palaces and galleries ; or to travel for hours in rain and 
 storm, without finding a shelter. The knapsack will at first be 
 heavy upon the shoulders, the feet will be sore and the limbs weary 
 with the day's walk, and sometimes the spirit will begin to flag un- 
 der the general fatigue of body. This, however, soon passes over. 
 In a week's time, if the pedestrian does not attempt too much on 
 setting out, his limbs are stronger, and his gait more firm and vigor- 
 ous ; he lies down at night with a feeling of refreshing rest, sleeps 
 with a soundness undisturbed by a single dream, that seems almost 
 like death, if he has been accustomed to restless nights ; and rises 
 invigorated in heart and frame for the next day's journey. The 
 coarse black bread of the peasant inns, with cheese no less coarse, 
 and a huge mug of milk or the nourishing beer of Germany, have 
 
 18* 
 
31)4 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 a relish to his keen appetite, which excites his own astonishment. 
 And if he is willing to regard all incivility and attempts at imposi- 
 tion as valuable lessons in the study of human nature, and to keep 
 his temper and cheerfulness in any situation which may try them, 
 he is prepared to walk through the whole of Europe, with more real 
 pleasure to himself, and far more profit, than if he journeyed in 
 stvle and enjoyed (?) the constant services of couriers and valets de 
 place. 
 
 Should his means become unusually scant, he will find it possible 
 to travel on an amazingly small pittance, and with more actual 
 bodily comfort than would seem possible, to one who has not tried 
 it. I was more than once obliged to walk a number of days in suc- 
 cession, on less than a franc a day, and found that by far the great- 
 est drawback to my enjoyment was the fear that I might be without 
 relief when this allowance should be exhausted. One observes, ad- 
 mires, wonders and learns quite as extensively, under such circum- 
 stances, as if he had unlimited means. Perhaps some account of 
 this truly pilgrim-like journeying, may possess a little interest for 
 the general reader. 
 
 The only expense that cannot be reduced at will, in Europe, is 
 that for sleeping. You may live on a crust of bread a day, but 
 lower than four cents for a bed you cannot go ! In Germany this 
 is the regular price paid by traveling journeymen, and no one need 
 wish for a more comfortable resting place, than those massive boxes, 
 (when you have become accustomed to their shortness,) with their 
 coarse but clean linen sheets, and healthy matresses of straw. In 
 Italy the price varies from half a paul to a paul, (ten cents,) but a 
 person somev/hat familiar with the language would not often be 
 asked more than the former price, for which he has a bed stuffed 
 with corn-husks, larjie enouirh for at least three men, I was asked 
 in France, five sous in all the village inns, from Marseilles to Dieppe. 
 The pedestrian cares far more for a good rest, than for the quality 
 of his fare, and a walk of thirty miles prepares him to find it, on the 
 hardest couch. I usually rose before sunrise, and immediately be- 
 gan the day's journey, the cost of lodging having been paid the night 
 
LIFE IN THE OPEN AIR. 395 
 
 before — a universal custom among the common inns, which are fre- 
 quented by the peasantry. At the next village, I would buy a loaf 
 of the hard brown bread, with some cheese, or butter, or whatever 
 substantial addition could be made at trifling cost, and breakfast up. 
 on a bank by the roadside, lying at full length on the dewy grass, 
 and using my knapsack as a table. I might also mention that a 
 leathern pouch, fastened to one side of this table, contained a knife 
 and fork, and one or two solid tin boxes, for articles which could not 
 be carried in the pocket. A similar pouch at the other side held 
 pen and ink, and a small bottle, which was filled sometimes with the 
 fresh water of the streams, and sometimes with the common country 
 wine, of the year's vintage, which costs from three to six sous the 
 quart. 
 
 After walking more than half the distance to be accomplished, 
 with half an hour's rest, dinner would be made in the same manner, 
 and while we rested the full hour allotted to the mid-day halt, guide- 
 books would be examined, journals written, a sketch made of the 
 landscape, or our minds refreshed by reading a passage in Milton or 
 Childe Harold. If it was during the cold, wet days of winter, we 
 sought a rock, or sometimes the broad abutment of a chance bridge, 
 upon which to lie ; in summer, it mattered little whether we rested 
 in sun or shade, under a bright or rainy sky. The vital energy 
 which this life in the open air gives to the constitution, is remarka- 
 ble. The very sensation of health and strength becomes a positive 
 luxury, and the heart overflows with its buoyant exuberance of cheer- 
 fulness. Every breath of the fresh morning air was like a draught 
 of some sparkling elixir, gifted with all the potency of the undis- 
 covered Fountain of Youth. We felt pent and oppressed within the 
 walls of a dwelling ; it was far more agreeable to march in the face 
 of a driving shower, under whose beating the blood grew fresh and 
 warm, than to sit by a dull fireplace, waiting for it to cease. Al- 
 though I had lived mainly upon a farm till the age of seventeen, and 
 was accustomed to out-door exercise, I never before felt how much 
 life one may draw from air and sunshine alone. 
 
 Thus, what at first was borne as a hardship, became at last an 
 
396 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 enjoyment, and there seemed to me no situation so extreme, that i 
 did not possess some charm to my mind, which made me unwilling 
 to shrink from the experience. Still, as one depth of endurance 
 after another was reached, the words of Cicero would recur to me 
 as encouragement — " Perhaps even this may hereafter be remem 
 bered with pleasure." Once only, while waiting six days at Lyons 
 in gloomy weather and among harsh people, without a sous, and 
 with a strong doubt of receiving any relief, I became indifferent tc 
 what might happen, and would have passively met any change foi 
 the worse — as men who have been exposed to shipwreck for days, 
 scarce make an effort to save themselves when the vessel strikes at 
 last. 
 
 One little experience of this kind, though less desperate, may be 
 worth relating. It happened during my stay in Florence ; and what 
 might not a man bear, for the sake of living in the midst of such a pa- 
 radise ? My comrade and I had failed to receive a remittance at the 
 expected time, and our funds had gone down to zero. The remaining 
 one of our trio of Americans, who had taken a suite of rooms in 
 company, a noble-hearted Kentuckian, shared his own means with us, 
 till what he had in Florence was nearly exhausted. His banker 
 lived in Leghorn, and he concluded to go there and draw for more, 
 
 instead of having it sent through a correspondent. B decided 
 
 to accompany him, and two young Englishmen, who had just arrived 
 on foot from Geneva, joined the party. They resolved on making 
 an adventure out of the expedition, and it was accordingly agreed 
 that they should take one of the market-boats of the Arno, and sail 
 down to Pisa, more than fifty miles distant, by the river. We paid 
 one or two visits to the western gate of the city, where numbers of 
 these craft always lie at anchor, and struck a bargain with a sturdy 
 boatman, that he should take them for a scudo (about one dollar) 
 each. 
 
 The hour of starting was nine o'clock in the evening, and I ac- 
 companied them to the starting place. The boat had a slight canvas 
 covering, and the crew consisted only of the owner and his son An- 
 tonio, a boy of ten. I shall not recount their voyage all that night, 
 
STARVATION EXPERIENCE. 397 
 
 Mk ■■■■^■■1 -..-I II .. ■— - ■- ■-.—-.. —^Il-.^MIM — ^^^ 
 
 (which was so cold, that they tied each other up in tlie boatman's 
 meal-bags, around the neck, and lay down in a heap on the ribbed 
 bottom of the boat,) nor their adventures in Pisa and Leghorn. 
 They were to be absent three or four days, and had left me money 
 enough to live upon in the meantime, but the next morning an un- 
 expected expense consumed nearly the whole of it. I had about 
 four crazie (three cents) a day for my meals, and by spending one 
 of these for bread, and the remainder for ripe figs, of which one 
 crazie will purchase fifteen or twenty, I managed to make a diminu- 
 tive breakfast and dinner, but was careful not to take much exercise, 
 on account of the increase of hunger. As it happened, my friends 
 remained two days longer than I had expected, and the last two 
 crazie I had were expended for one day's provisions. 1 then decid- 
 ed to try the next day without any thing, and actually felt a curi- 
 osity to know what one's sensations would be, on experiencing two 
 or three days of starvation. I knew that if the feeling should be- 
 come insupportable, I could easily walk out to the mountain of 
 Fiesole, where a fine fig orchard shaded the old Roman amphithea- 
 tre. But the experiment was broken off in its commencement, by 
 the arrival of the absent ones, in the middle of the night. Such is 
 the weakness of human nature, that on finding I should not want 
 for breakfast, I arose from bed, and ate two or three figs which, by 
 a strong exertion, I had saved from the scanty allowance of the day. 
 I only relate this incident to show that the severest deprivation is 
 very easily borne, and that it is worth bearing for what it teaches. 
 
 So also, when a storm came up at nightfall, while we were a 
 league distant from the end of our journey, after the first natural 
 shrinking from its violence was over, there was a sublime pleasure 
 in walking in the midst of darkness and dashing rain. There have 
 been times when the sky was black, just revealing its deeps of 
 whelming cloud, and the winds full of the cold, fresh, saddening 
 spirit of the storm, which I would not have exchanged for the bright- 
 ness of a morninCT beside the sea. 
 
 A few words in relation to a pedestrian's equipment may be of 
 «ome practical value. An idea of the general appearance of the 
 
398 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 traveling costume of a German student, which I adopted as the most 
 serviceable and agreeable, may be obtained from the portrait accon> 
 panying this volume, but there are many small particulars, in addi-. 
 tion, which I have often been asked to give. It is the best plan to 
 take no more clothing than is absolutely required, as the traveler 
 will not desire to carry more than fifteen pounds on his back, knap- 
 sack included. A single suit of good dark cloth, with a supply of 
 linen, will be amply sufficient. The strong linen blouse, confined by 
 a leather belt, will protect it from the dust, and when this is thrown 
 aside on entering a city, the traveler makes a very respectable ap- 
 pearance. The slouched hat of finely- woven felt, is a delightful 
 covering to the head, serving at the same time as umbrella or night- 
 cap, traveling dress or visiting costume. No one should neglect a 
 good cane, which, besides its feeling of companionship, is equal to 
 from three to five miles a day, and may serve as a defence against 
 banditti, or savage Bohemian dogs. In the Alps, the tall staves, 
 pointed with iron, and topped with a curved chamois horn, can be 
 bought for a franc apiece, and are of great assistance in crossing 
 ice-fields, or sustaining the weight of the body in descending steep 
 and difficult passes. 
 
 An umbrella is inconvenient, unless it is short and may be strapped 
 on the knapsack, but even then, an ample cape of oiled silk or India 
 rubber cloth is far preferable. The pedestrian need not be particu- 
 lar in this respect ; he will soon grow accustomed to an occasional 
 drenching, and I am not sure that men, like plants, do not thrive 
 under it, Vv^hen they have outgrown the hot-house nature of civiliza- 
 tion, in a life under the open heaven. A portfolio, capable of hard 
 service, wdth a guide-book or two, pocket-compass and spy-glass, 
 completes the contents of the knapsack, though if there is still a 
 small corner to spare, I would recommend that it be filled with 
 pocket editions of one or two of the good old English classics. It is 
 a rare delight to sit down in the gloomy fastnesses of the Hartz, or 
 in the breezy valleys of Styria, and read the majestic measures of 
 our glorious Saxon bards. Milton is first fully appreciated, when 
 you look up from his page to the snowy ramparts of the Alps, which 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND EQUIPMENTS. 399 
 
 shut out all but the Heaven of whose beauty he sang ; and all times 
 and places are fitting for the universal Shakspeare. Childe Harold 
 bears such a glowing impress of the scenery on which Byron's eye 
 has dwelt, that it spoke to me like the answering heart of a friend, 
 from the crag of Drachenfels, in the rushing of the arrowy Rjone, 
 and beside the breathing marbles of the Vatican and the Capitol. 
 
 A little facility in sketching from nature is a most useful and de- 
 lightful accomplishment for the pedestrian. He may bring away 
 the features of wild and unvisited landscapes, the picturesque fronts 
 of peasant cottages and wayside shrines, or the simple beauty of 
 some mountain child, watching his herd of goats. Though having 
 little knowledge and no practice in the art, J persevered in my 
 awkward attempts, and was soon able to take a rough and rapid, 
 but tolerably correct outline of almost any scene. These memori- 
 als of two years of travel have now a value to me, which I would 
 not exchange for the finest engravings, however they might excel in 
 faithful representation. Another article of equipment, which I had 
 almost forgotten to mention, is a small bottle of the best Cogniac, 
 with which to bathe the feet, morning and evening, for the first week 
 or two, or as long as they continue tender with the exercise. It was 
 also very strengthening and refreshing, when the body was unusu- 
 ally weary with a long day's walking or climbing, to use as an ouU 
 ward stimulant ; for I never had occasion to apply it internally. 
 Many of the German students wear a wicker flask, slung over their 
 shoulder, containing kirschwasser, which they mix with the water 
 of the mountain streams, but this is not at all necessary to the travel- 
 er's health and comfort. 
 
 These students, with all their irregularities, are a noble, warm- 
 hearted class, and make the best companions in the world. During 
 the months of August and September, hundreds of them ramble 
 through Switzerland and the Tyrol, extending their route sometimes 
 to Venice and Rome. With their ardent love for every thing re- 
 publican, they will always receive an American heartily, consecrate 
 him as a bursch, and admit him to their fellowship. With the most 
 of them, an economy of expense is part of the habit of their student- 
 
400 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 life, and they are only spendthrifts on the articles of beer and to- 
 bacco. A month's residence in Heidelberg, the most beautiful place 
 in Germany, will serve to make the young American acquainted 
 with their habits, and able to join them for an adventurous foot- 
 journey, with the greatest advantage to himself. 
 
 We always accepted a companion, of whatever kind, while walk- 
 ing — from chimney-sweeps to barons. In a strange country one 
 can learn something from every peasant, and we neglected no op- 
 portunity, not only to obtain information, but to impart it. We found 
 every where great curiosity respecting America, and we were always 
 glad to tell them all they wished to know. In Germany, we were 
 generally taken for Germans from some part of the country where 
 the dialect was a little different, or, if they remarked our foreign 
 peculiarities, they supposed we were either Poles, Russians, or 
 Swiss. The greatest ignorance in relation to America, prevails 
 among the common people. They imagine we are a savage race, 
 without intelligence and almost without law. Persons of education, 
 who had some slight knowledge of our history, showed a curiosity 
 to know something of our political condition. They are taught by 
 the German newspapers (which are under a strict censorship in this 
 respect) to look only at the evil in our country, and they almost in- 
 variably began by adverting to Slavery and Repudiation. While 
 we admitted, often with shame and mortification, the existence of 
 things so inconsistent with true republicanism, we endeavored to 
 make them comprehend the advantages enjoyed by the free citizen 
 — the complete equality of birth — which places America, despite 
 her sins, far above any other nation on earth. I could plainly see, 
 by the kindling eye and half-suppressed sigh, that they appreciated 
 a freedom so immeasurably greater than that which they enjoyed. 
 
 In large cities we always preferred to take the second or third- 
 rate hotels, which are generally visited by merchants and persons 
 who travel on business ; for, with the same comforts as the first 
 rank, they are nearly twice as cheap. A traveler, with a guide- 
 book and a good pair of eyes, can also dispense with the services 
 of a courier, whose duty it is to conduct strangers about the city, 
 
INNS AND PASSPORTS. 401 
 
 from one lion to another. We chose rather to find out and view the 
 "sights" at our leisure. In small villages, where we were often 
 obliged to stop, we chose the best hotels, which, particularly in 
 Northern Germany and in Italy, are none too good. But if it was 
 a post, that is, a town where the post-chaise stops to change horses, 
 we usually avoided the post-hotel, where one must pay high for 
 having curtains before his windows and a more elegant cover on hia 
 bed. In the less splendid country inns, we always found neat, com- 
 fortable lodging, and a pleasant, friendly reception from the people. 
 They saluted us on entering, with " Be you welcome," and on leav- 
 ing, wished us a pleasant journey and good fortune. The host, when 
 he brought us supper or breakfast, lifted his cap, and wished us a 
 good appetite — and when he lighted us to our chambers, left us with 
 " May you sleep well !" We generally found honest, friendly peo- 
 ple ; they delighted in telling us about the country around ; what 
 ruins there were in the neighborhood — and what strange legends 
 were connected with them. The only part of Europe where it is 
 unpleasant to travel in this manner, is Bohemia. We could scarcely 
 find a comfortable inn ; the people all spoke an unknown language, 
 and were not particularly celebrated for their honesty. Beside this, 
 travelers rarely go on foot in those regions ; we were frequently 
 taken for traveling handwerker, and subjected to imposition. 
 
 With regard to passports, although they were vexatious and often 
 expensive, we found little difficulty when we had acquainted our- 
 selves with the regulations concerning them. In France and Ger- 
 many they are comparatively little trouble ; in Italy they are the 
 traveler's greatest annoyance. Americans are treated with less 
 strictness, in this respect, than citizens of other nations, and, owing 
 to the absence of rank among us, they also enjoy greater advantages 
 of acquaintance and intercourse. 
 
 The expenses of traveling in England, although much greater 
 than in our own country, may, as we learned by experience, be 
 brought, through economy, within the same compass. Indeed, it is 
 my belief, from observation, that, with few exceptions, throughout 
 Europe, where a traveler enjoys the same comfort and abundance 
 
402 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 as in America, he must pay the same prices. The principal differ- 
 ence is, that he only pays for what he gets, so that, if he be content 
 with the necessities of life, without its luxuries, the expense is in 
 proportion. 
 
 The best coin for the traveler's purpose, is English gold, which 
 passes at a considerable premium on the Continent, and is readily 
 accepted at all the principal hotels. Having to earn my means as I 
 went along, I was obliged to have money forwarded in small remit- 
 tances, generally in drafts on the house of Hottingeur & Co., in 
 Paris, which could be cashed in any large city of Europe. If only 
 a short tour is intended, and the pedestrian's means are limited, he 
 may easily carry the necessary amount with him. There is little 
 danger of robbery for those who journey in such an humble style. 
 I never lost a single article in this manner, and rarely had any feel- 
 ing but that of perfect security. No part of our own country is 
 safer in this respect than Germany, Switzerland or France. Italy 
 still bears an unfortunate reputation for honesty ; the defiles of the 
 Apennines and the hollows of the Roman Campagna are haunted by 
 banditti, and pei'sons who travel in their own carriages are often 
 plundered. I saw the caves and hiding-places of these outlaws 
 among the evergreen shrubbery, in the pass of Monte Somma, near 
 Spoleto, but as we had a dragoon in the crazy old vehicle, we feared 
 no hinderance from them. A Swedish gentleman in Rome told me 
 he had walked from Ancona, through the mountains to the Eternal 
 Cil/, partly by night, but that, although he met with many meaning 
 faces, he was not disturbed in any way. An English artist of my 
 acquaintance walked from Leghorn along the Tuscan and Tyrrhen3 
 coast to Civita Vecchia, through a barren and savage district, over- 
 grown with aloes and cork-trees, without experiencing any trouble, 
 except from the extreme curiosity of the ignorant inhabitants. The 
 fastnesses of the Abruzzi have been explored with like facility by 
 daring pedestrians ; indeed, the sight of a knapsack seems to serve 
 as a free passport with all highwaymen. 
 
 I have given, at times, through the foregoing chapters, the cost 
 of portions of my journey and residence in various cities of Europe. 
 
EXPENSES OF A TWO YEARS' JOURNEY. 
 
 403 
 
 The cheapest country for traveling, as far as my experience extend- 
 ed, is Southern Germany, where one can travel comfortably on 
 twenty-five cents a day. Italy and the south of France come next 
 in order, and are but little more expensive ; then follow Switzerland 
 and Northern Germany, and lastly, Great Britain. The cheapest 
 • city, and one of the pleasantest in the world, is Florence, where we 
 breakfasted on five cents, dined sumptuously on twelve, and went to 
 a good opera for ten. A man would find no difficulty in spending a 
 year there, for about $250. This fact may be of some importance 
 to those whose health requires such a stay, yet are kept back from 
 attempting the voyage through fear of the expense. Counting the 
 passage to Leghorn at fifly or sixty dollars, it will be seen how little 
 is necessary for a year's enjoyment of the sweet atmosphere of Italy. 
 In addition to these particulars, the following connected estimate 
 will better show the minimum expense of a two years' pilgrimage : 
 
 Voyage to Liverpool, in the second cabin, .... $24 00 
 
 Three weeks' travel in Ireland and Scotland, . . . 25 00 
 
 A week in London, at three shillings a day, . . , . 4 50 
 
 From London to Heidelberg, . . . . , 15 00 
 
 A month at Heidelberg, and trip to Frankfort, . . . 20 00 
 
 Seven months in Frankfort, at $10 per month, . . . 70 00 
 
 Fuel, passports, excursions and other expenses, . . . 30 00 
 
 Tour through Cassel, the Hartz, Saxony, Austria, Bavaria, &-c., . 40 00 
 
 A month in Frankfort, . . . . . . 10 00 
 
 From Frankfort through Switzerland, and over the Alps to Milan, . 15 00 
 
 From Milan to Genoa, ...... 60 
 
 Expenses from Genoa to Florence, . . . . 14 00 
 
 Four months in Florence, . . . . . . 50 00 
 
 Eight days' journey from Florence to Rome, two weeks in Rome, voyage 
 
 to Marseilles, and journey to Paris, . . . . 40 00 
 
 Five weeks in Paris, . . . , . . 15 00 
 
 From Paris to London, . . . . . . 8 00 
 
 Six weeks in London, at thre« shillings a day, . . . 31 00 
 
 Passage home, . - . . , . . 60 00 
 
 $472 00 
 
404 VIEWS A-FOOT. 
 
 The cost for places of amusement, guides' fees, and other small 
 expenses, not included in this list, increase the sum total to $500, 
 for which the tour may be made. Now having, I hope, established 
 this to the reader's satisfaction, I respectfully take leave of him. 
 
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