PERSONALLY

CONDUCTEI

BY

FRANK R. STOCKTON

vtt

•YAlLE-^MVIEiaSflinf-

Gift of
George L. Fox
19Sl\

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.
THE FLOATING PRINCE AND OTHER FAIRY
TALES. Illustrated. 4to, cloth, $2.50 ; boards, $1.50
ROUNDABOUT RAMBLES IN LANDS OF FACT
AND FANCY. Illustrated. 410, boards, 1.50
TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 300 illustrations.
4to, boards, . . . . . . .^ . . . 1.50
A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP. Illustrated, izmo, . 1.50
THE TING-A-LING TALES. Illustrated by E. B.
Bensell,  . . . 1.00
THE STORY OF VITEAU. With 16 full-page
illustrations by R. B. Birch. i2mo, . . . 1.50

PERSONALLY

CONDUCTED

Frank R. Stockton
AUTHOR OF "RUDDER GRANGE," "THE LADY OR THE TIGER?" ETC

ILLUSTRATED BY
JOSEPH PENNELL, ALFRED PARSONS, AND OTHERS

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1889

Copyright, 1889, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
::: 9 } St

Press of J. J. Little & Co.
Astor Place, New York.

CONTENTS.
I. The Romans, but not Rome,  Page 3
II. The City of the Bended Knee,  " 20
III. Little Pisa and Great Rome,  " 39
IV. Great Rome Again,  " 59
V. Around the Bay of Naples,  " 81
VI. In Florence and Venice,  "100
VII. A Mountain Top, and How we Get There, ..... " ng
VIII. Queen Paris,  " 138
IX. King London,  "158
X. In English Country,  " 181
XI. The Low Countries and the Rhine,  " 201
XII. The People we Meet,  " 226

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Leaving Home, .  Frontispiece.
The Landing-Stage at Liverpool,  Page 4
The Twin-Steamer " Calais-Douvre" Crossing the English Channel, " 6
The Pont du Gard,  " 12
View of a Portion of Genoa. — The Church of Santa Maria in
Carignano at the Summit, .  '* 29
A Distant View of Pisa,  '* 41
On the Pincian Hill,  ... " 53
The Castle of San Angelo, from the Tiber. — 5/. Peter ' s in the
Distance,  " 57
A Bird' s-Eye View of a Part of Rome,  " 67
In the Borghese Villa Gardens,  78
Small Shops in Naples,  82
Boys at 'Work in the Excavations of Pompeii,  " #5
View of Excavated Portion of Pompeii, looking northwest, . 8j

via LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Blue Grotto, Island of Capri, ....
The Mercato Vecchio, ¦ 
A Bit of Venice, 
A Scene in Venice, 
The Bridge of Sighs, 
5/. Mark's and the Campanile, 
Feeding the Pigeons in the Square of St. Mark's, 
Scenes on the Rigi Railway, ....
The Rigi.— Showing Railway to the Top of the Mountain, . .
Pont and Place de la Concorde, ¦ . .
The Avenue des Champs Ely sees. — The Arch of Triumph in the
Distance, . ...
The Tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte in the Church of the Invalides,
St. Paul's Cathedral, seen over the Roofs of Neighboring Houses,
Westminster Abbey, ....
The Houses of Parliament, 
The Victoria Embankment , London, 
An English Meadow, 
A Village Inn, 
A Quiet Bit of English Country, .......

Page 93
103
" 106
iog
" 113
" 115
" 116
" I25
" 132
140
" 142
" l5'
" I60
•¦ i65
" 169
" '79
" 183
" 189
" 106

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. IX
A Dutch Windmill, ... ....... Page 203
A House on the Dunes, . .  " 206
Dining-Room in a Dutch House, .......... " 209
The Cathedral of Cologne,  "211
The Castle of Rheinstein,  "213
The Fortress of Ebr enbreit stein,  "217
The Hotel de Ville of Brussels,  "219
Sketches in Antwerp,  "" 223
An English Railway Official,  " 230
French Bonnes and their Charges,  231
A French Policeman,  "232
Italian Beggars, .  " 234
Following the Carriage,  " 235
An Italian Model waiting for an Engagement,  236
Copying in the Gallery,  239

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME.
IT is quite a common thing for persons travelling in Europe who
are unacquainted with the countries they intend to visit, to
form themselves into companies, under the charge of a man
who makes it his business to go with such parties and personally
conduct them during the tours and journeys that may be agreed
upon. Besides relieving travellers from the troubles and perplexi
ties which often befall them in countries with the language and
customs of which they are not well acquainted, the personal con
ductor is familiar with all the objects of interest in the various
places visited, and is able to explain to those under his charge
everything that they see.
It is my purpose to offer my services to you, my readers, to
personally conduct you to various interesting places in Europe. I
do not propose to take you over all Europe, nor to stop at every
well-known place upon our route, for to do this would require a
long time. Of course, there are few places in the world which
have not been written about ; but every traveller sees something
new, or sees old things in a new light, and when we visit great
cities or noted localities, we shall not only try to enjoy what we

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

have read of before, but to find out as much as possible for our
selves. I shall conduct you only over such ground as I myself
have previously visited. And now, as we know what is to be done,
we will set out.
If we cross the Atlantic by one of 'the fast steamships, we shall
make the voyage in about a week. But if we are going to Liver
pool, to which port most of the steamers sail, we must not think
that our journey is over at the end of the seventh day. At that time

--A&X

THE LANDING-STAGE AT LIVERPOOL.

we have only reached
Queenstown, Ireland. ~""~~
The time of steamers
crossing the Atlantic 
is estimated by the
number of days and hours occu
pied in going from Sandy Hook
•to Queenstown, or from Queenstown to Sandy Hook. It is true
that, on arriving at Queenstown we have reached Europe, but we
must go on for about a day more before we get to Liverpool, the
end of our voyage ; unless, indeed, we choose to stop for a time in
Ireland, which many people do. We are landed at Liverpool by a
little side-wheel steamboat, which conveys us from the ocean steamer,
anchored in mid-stream, to the "landing-stage " or floating dock.
And here I may as well state at once that we are on our way to

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME.

the south of France and Italy, and that, therefore, we shall make
short stops, at present, at intervening places, no matter how inter
esting they may be. For this reason we shall soon leave behind
us Liverpool, with its magnificent stone docks, its seven miles of
quays, and its enormous draught-horses, which bear the same rela
tion to common horses that Jumbo bore to common elephants.
Nor shall we stop very long at the queer old town of Chester, full
of quaint and curious houses of the olden time, some with Scrip
tural texts upon their fronts, and which has a wall entirely around
it, built by the Romans when these mighty people were masters of
England. If there is in our company any boy or girl who has
studied ancient history so much that he or she is tired of hearing
about the Romans, that member of our party must either turn back
and go home, or else be prepared to exercise a great deal of resig
nation during the rest of our journeys. For, in travelling over
civilized Europe, we might as well try to avoid English or American
travellers (who are to be found everywhere) as to avoid the archi
tectural remains of the Romans, who were as great in colonizing as
they were in conquering, and who left marks of their enterprise
from Africa to Scotland. If this energetic nation had known of
the existence of a continent on the other side of the Atlantic, it
is very likely that there would now be the remains of a Roman
amphitheatre on Coney Island, and a Roman wall around Burling
ton, New Jersey. Even London, the greatest city in the civilized
world, where we shall not stop now, although we shall visit it at
a future time, received its original name, Londinium, from the
Romans, who made it from two Saxon words.
England is a beautiful country, and tempts us greatly to linger;
but we must keep on and cross over, as soon as possible, to the
Continent ; and, as some of us are probably subject to sea-sickness,
we will choose the shortest sea route — that between Dover and

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

Calais.* The English Channel is one of the worst places in the
world for causing sea-sickness, and we shall take passage upon
a very curious vessel, built for the purpose of preventing, so far as
possible, the rolling, pitching, and tossing which cause many travel
lers to suffer more in a few hours' trip between England and France
than they had suffered in their whole voyage across the wide
Atlantic. This vessel is, in reality, two boats, placed side by side,
and covered with one deck like the catamarans in use in the United

THE TWIN-STEAMER "CALAIS-DOUVRE" CROSSING THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.
States. It has a comparatively easy and steady motion, and it is
quite a novel experience to go out to the forward rail, and see
the bows of the two vessels in front of us ploughing through the
water, side by side, as if they were a pair of steamboats running
a very even race. From Calais we go by rail to Paris, the most
beautiful of all the great cities of the world ; but it is not our
intention to stop here now, and so we keep on toward the south of
France. Our first actual visit will be made to the small but very old city
* Pronounced : in English, Kal' is.— in French, Kal' a.

THE ROMANS. BUT NOT ROME.

of Avignon,""" on the River Rhone. This is a good place at which
to begin our foreign life, for there are few towns in Europe which
to an American boy or girl would seem more thoroughly foreign
than Avignon. The town is surrounded by a high wall, with the
battlements and towers almost as perfect as when they were built
in the fourteenth century. Nearly all the streets are either narrow
or crooked, and many are both, as streets used to be in the Middle
Ages, and some of them are cut through solid rock, with queer old
houses perched high overhead. But there are broad open spaces, and
one straight wide street, which, with the handsome gate at the end
of it, was formerly called the street and gate of Petrarch, after the
famous poet who lived near Avignon. Lately, however, the French
people have changed its name, and now it is called the street of the
Republic. But with this exception there is nothing about Avignon
that would remind us of any modern town. Everything we see —
the- houses, the streets, the churches — looks as if it had been in use
for centuries.
In the year 1309 Avignon became a very important place in the
eyes of Europe ; for in that year the Pope of Rome came to live
here, and made this little city the central seat of government of the
Christian Church. Civil wars in Italy made Rome a very unpleasant
place for the popes to live in, and, through the influence of the king
of France, Pope Clement V. established himself at Avignon, and
other popes succeeded him ; and the fact that for nearly a hundred
years the popes lived at Avignon, has given this little city an
important place in history.
The massive palace in which the popes used to live still stands
upon a hill called the Rocher des Doms, overlooking the town.
This building, lofty in height and immense in extent, is now occu
pied as a military barracks ; but visitors can walk through it and see
* Pronounced A-veeri yon? .

8 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
many remains of its former grandeur. But in its lofty halls (the
walls of which were covered with fresco paintings by Italian mas
ters) rude soldiers now eat, drink, and sleep, where popes and
cardinals once moved about in state.
- After a visit to the old cathedral near by, we go out upon the
upper part of the hill, which is laid out as a pleasure-ground, with
handsome walks and shrubbery. From a high point here we have
one of the finest views in France. Far off to the eastward, with its
white head against the deep blue sky, is a mountain, its top covered
with perpetual snow. It is Mont Ventoux,* one of the Maritime
Alps ; and, although we shall see much grander mountains, we shall
not be likely to forget this one, on top of which is lying, perhaps,
the first perpetual snow that some of us have ever seen. Far away
on every side, we have beautiful views of the Rhone valley and the
surrounding country, with its dark masses of forest, its vast stretches
of fields and groves of olive-trees, and its little white stone villages
scattered about here and there upon the landscape. The River
Rhone runs close to the foot of the Rocher des Doms ; and looking
across its two branches, which are here separated by a large island,
we see something that seems like a fortress. The four walls, enclos
ing a large square space, have battlements and towers, most of which
are now broken down ; but two fine old towers, with a gate-way
between them, still stand up bold and high. Near these ruins is a
long, straggling town, which is the very old town of Villeneuve.f or
New City ; and the place with the walls around it is the ruins of
the fortified Abbey of St. Andrew, which used to be a very impor
tant establishment in the time of the popes. Just beneath us there
is a part of an ancient bridge which once stretched across the two
branches of the river, and over the island, to the other side. The
swift-flowing Rhone, however, has long since carried away nearly all
* Pronounced Man* von* too'. j Pronounced Veel-nuv .

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 9

of it, and there is nothing left but a small portion, with a little chapel
standing on the outermost and broken end.
There is now a modern bridge over the river, and, as I know we
will all wish to examine the ruins of the abbey on the other side,
we will cross over this ; and we soon enter the town of Villeneuve,
which I am sure is the saddest and most deserted-looking place that
any of you ever saw in your lives.
There are few persons to be seen anywhere. We go up a long
street with dead-looking houses on each side, and occasionally we
see a magnificent stone portal with pillars and carved ornaments,
which would seem to lead to some grand palace ; but, on looking
through the gate-way we see nothing behind but a miserable little
stone shanty, the palace having long ago gone to ruin. An impos
ing entrance of this kind, which leads to nothing of any consequence,
reminds me of some people I have met.
I must say here, while speaking of the aspect of Villeneuve, that
we must not allow ourselves to be depressed by the melancholy
little villages we shall meet with in our travels in the southern part
of Europe. We must not expect pretty houses, surrounded by shade-
trees, fresh grass, and flower-beds, such as we see in country places
at home. In England, and some parts of the Continent, many of the
small country houses and villages are extremely picturesque and
attractive ; but in the southern part of Europe, where the summers
are long and hot, the houses in the villages are built of gray or whit
ish stone, with as few windows as possible, and are crowded close
together. The narrow streets are hard and white, and look as if
they were made of the same stone as the houses. The heat can
not penetrate into these tomb-like buildings, and they may be very
cool and satisfactory to the people who live in them, but they have
not a cheerful air. But we shall get used to this and many other
things which are either better or worse than what we have left

IO PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
behind us at home ; and the sooner we make up our minds to enjoy,
so far as we can, whatever sights we see, without continually com
paring them with things at home, the greater pleasure shall we take
in our travels, and the greater advantage will they be to us.
When we have passed through the town and have reached the
old abbey, we find a little man with a bunch of keys ; he is called
the gardien, and has the privilege of showing the place. Did any
of you ever read " The Mysteries of Udolpho," by Mrs. Radcliffe ?
If you have, you will remember that the story is full of secret
passages, concealed door-ways, trap-doors, and dungeons. The
two great round towers which stand on each side of the main
entrance to this abbey are very much like my idea of the Castle of
Udolpho. We enter one of the towers by a little door on the
ground, and find ourselves in a dark apartment ; then we go up
narrow, winding stone stairs, with a rope on one side to take hold
of ; and so visit, one after another, the various dungeons and
rooms of the two towers, which are connected, and which for
centuries were used for prisons. In a small dark stone cell there
is an inscription stating that Gaston, brother of Louis XIV., was
here confined. It is said he was the ," Man with the Iron Mask,"
who, from time to time, was shut up in various prisons of France.
One of the large rooms has its stone floor literally covered with
inscriptions scratched or carved there by prisoners. Some of these
were made as late as the great French Revolution, while others
date back to the tenth century. Some are very elaborate, and it
must have taken the prisoners a long time to cut them out ; but that
was probably the only way they had of passing the time. In the
upper part of one of the towers is the bakery, with immense ovens
still apparently in good order. Near by is the little cell where
the baker, who was always a prisoner, was every night locked up.
The gardien will' point out to us trap-doors, on which we feel

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. I I
somewhat fearful to tread, and doors and dark passages which we
should never be likely to find by ourselves. And, at last, we make
our way down the stone stairs, which are worn by the steps of
many generations of prisoners, guards, and jailers, and out into
the great enclosed space surrounded by the abbey walls. There
are other towers at the corners of these walls, but they are in
a ruined condition. Almost in the centre of the enclosure is a
comparatively modern convent, with a wall around it. This is
the only place within the bounds of the ancient abbey that is
inhabited. Ruins of this kind possess a historical interest, and those who
wish to understand the manners and customs of people of the
Middle Ages should not fail to visit them, if it is in their power ;
but, after all, I think we shall feel relieved when we go away from
this gloomy fortress and these melancholy dungeons, and prepare
to visit something which is a relic of the past — I may say of the
very long, long past — but which has no saddening traditions con
nected with it.
What we are now going to see is not at Avignon, but is distant
about an hour's ride by rail. It is the Pont du Gard* (or " Bridge
of the Gard "), a great bridge, or aqueduct, built here by the
Romans at a time when this part of France was occupied by the
soldiers and colonies of that people ; and, next to the Colosseum
at Rome, it is considered the grandest and most perfect piece of
Roman architecture now standing in the world.
In order to properly see this great ruin, we shall give a day to
the visit ; and we shall take a morning train at the station at the
end of the bridge, opposite Avignon, and go to Remoulin,f a
small village about two miles from the Pont du Gard. Then as
many of us as can be accommodated will get into little carriages,
* Pronounced Pon* du Gar. \ Pronounced Reh-moo-lanS '.

12

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

each drawn by one horse with a high horn to his collar, on which
hang bells, and driven by a man in a blue blouse, with a whip that
cracks as merrily as the bells jingle ; and the rest of us, I suppose,
will have to walk. The most of our road is by the little River
Gardon, usually called the Gard ; and, as we go along, we see
French rural life much better than we can from the windows of a

THE PONT DU GARD.

railway train. The road is smooth and hard, like those of our city
parks. Of this kind, indeed, are nearly all the roads in France.
When we have gone about two miles, we reach a valley formed by
two rows of high hills, which rise on each side of the river ; and at
a turn in the road we suddenly see before us the great Pont du
Gard. It is an immense stone bridge, rising high into the air and
stretching across the whole valley. It consists of three rows of

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 1 3
arches, one above the other. In the lower row there are six very
large arches ; above this is a longer row of eleven smaller arches ;
and over this, thirty-five arches still smaller. On the top of the
upper row, and forming the summit of the bridge, is a covered
aqueduct, or water-way. At a little distance this vast bridge seems
almost as entire and perfect as when first built, and we can hardly
realize the fact that it has stood there for nineteen centuries. The
valley here is wild and almost desolate. There is a mill on one
side of the river, and a small house, nearly concealed by trees, on
the other ; and an occasional wagon may be seen moving slowly
along the road, or crossing the river on a bridge, which was built
in 1 743 for military purposes, close to the lower arches of the
ancient structure and partly resting on them. Otherwise the place
is quiet and deserted, as it probably always has been ; and it seems
strange that the Romans should have built such a stupendous and
costly bridge in a spot like this. But it was not put here that
people might cross the little River Gardon, which is spanned by a
single one of the lower row of arches. There is a broad pavement
of great slabs of stone on the top of this first row of arches, and
on this persons could walk if there happened to be anybody who
wanted to cross the river at this point ; but vehicles could never go
over the Pont du Gard. It was erected solely for the purpose of
carrying water across the valley, and was part of an aqueduct,
twenty-five miles long, constructed by the Romans to conduct the
water of the springs of Airan to their town of Nemausus, now the
French town of Nimes.* Remains of this aqueduct may still be seen
in various parts of the country between the springs and Nimes.
We all stop for a few moments to gaze at this massive
structure — even now one of the greatest bridges in the world —
and then we hurry forward to take possession of it. This we may
* Pronounced Neem.

14 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
truly do for as long a time as we please, for there is no gardien
here in charge of the bridge ; there are no guides to take us about
and explain everything, as if they were " saying a lesson " which
they had learned years ago, and had repeated every day since ;
and it is very likely there are no tourists wandering up and down
with red guide-books in their hands, for it is an out-of-the-way
place. So we have the great bridge to ourselves, and can wander
and climb about it as much as we like. We send the little
carriages back to Remoulin, with orders to return for us in the
afternoon, and give ourselves up to the pleasant occupation of
finding out exactly what sort of a bridge the Romans constructed
when they made up their minds to build a really good one. The
first thing we do is to pass under some of the lower arches to the
farther side ; and this we can easily do, for, as I said before, the
little river runs under but one of these arches, the others stretch
ing over the rocks, the grass, and the road in the bottom of the
valley. From the other side we get a view of the ancient bridge
unobstructed by the modern one, which was built by a warrior
duke for the purpose of getting his cannon and military wagons
across the stream, and which is now a very good bridge for
vehicles of the present day. As we gaze up at the old bridge, we
see great stones projecting at regular intervals from its sides, from
the bottom up to the top of the second row of arches. These
served as supports to the derricks and other machines by which
the massive stones were raised as the building progressed ; and
when Agrippa (the son-in-law of Caesar Augustus), who is believed
to have built this bridge, had finished his great work, he did not
think it necessary to make his workmen cut off these projecting
stones, and thus we have an idea of one of the methods by which
the Roman stone-masons worked. When we go up to the road,
which is on a level with the top of the first row of arches, we all

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 1 5
cross the bridge on the broad pavement, which seems as smooth
and solid as when it was laid down, before the beginning of the
Christian era. The second row of arches rests upon this pave
ment ; but there is plenty of room on the outside of them for us to
walk, and, if we keep on the side next to the modern bridge, there
is no danger of falling off. When we step under the arches of this
second row and look up, we see the square indentations in the
stone-work which were made there to support the scaffolding of
the Roman masons. The world has changed so much since those
holes were made that it is almost like a new world ; and if
Agrippa, the famous aqueduct-builder, could come back to life, he
would find a wonderfully different Rome and a wonderfully dif
ferent Europe from those he used to know, but he would see the
square holes in his arches exactly as he left them.
When we have examined the bridge as much as we wish to
from this broad lower pavement, we make up our minds to go to
the very top of it, and see what is to be seen there. The aqueduct,
which rests on the upper row of arches, extends from the upper
part of the hills on one side of the valley to the hills on the other,
and we can reach it by climbing a steep path. When we get to the
end of the path — and those of you who are inclined to be fat, and
also inclined to be in a hurry, must expect to puff a little at this
point — we find that we can look through the long covered water
way from one end to the other. But, more than this, we can walk
throuo-h it if we choose, and this we immediately prepare to do.
This long passage, through which the water used to run, is several
feet wide, and higher than a tall man, and in some places the broad
slabs of stone which formed its roof are missing, so that it is now
very well lighted. There is no danger in walking through it, for
there are no holes in the floor through which one might fall, and
the walls of the aqueduct are still perfect. The bridge is old,

1 6 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
but it is solid enough to support all the people who may choose to
walk through its water-way, and hundreds of years from now it will
probably be as strong as it is to-day. There have been young men
who have partly crossed this bridge by climbing on the roof of the
water-way and walking on the top of the stone slabs. There is
no railing there for any of them to catch hold of should they make
a misstep, and, although it is quite wide enough to walk on, it is
too high in the air to make it safe for a promenade. So we shall
keep off this roof, and walk in the narrow passage through which
the water used to flow to the old Roman town.
When this water-way was built, it was lined with the famous
Roman cement, through which water could not penetrate. The
bottom, or floor, of the passage is now a good deal broken, and
there are loose pieces of this plaster, about half an inch thick,
lying here and there. I dare say many of the young people will
pick up some of these, and carry them away as mementos of mason-
work which was comparatively new and fresh at the time when
Mary and Joseph, with their little Child, took their flight into
Egypt. It is not right to injure monuments or buildings, either
ancient or modern, by carrying away pieces of them as relics, but
there is no harm in taking a piece of plaster which may be crushed
by the first heavy heel that treads upon it. It is a queer sensation,
walking through this long rectangular pipe — for it is nothing else —
which is raised to such a great height in the air. When we arrive
at about the middle, those of us who happen to think of the three
rows of arches beneath us, and of the good old age to which they
have arrived, may perhaps begin to feel a little nervous ; but there
is really no danger, and if you think you feel the bridge swerving
from side to side, it is all imagination. It is certainly a very nar
row bridge, considering its great height and length, but the storms
of nineteen centuries have not moved it.

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. l"j
When we come to the other end of the bridge, we find that it
is somewhat broken, and does not reach the hill-top in front of it ;
but there are stones, like steps, by which we can make our way to
a path which will take us down the hill to the valley. This valley
is a delightful place for a picnic, and here we shall sit down and
eat the luncheons we have brought with us. In some places the
ground is covered with beautiful green grass, shaded by trees, and
near the bridge are many rocks which are pleasant to sit upon.
Not far away is an olive orchard, and when I first visited this place
many of the olives were ripe. I had never before seen ripe olives,
which are of a dark purple, almost black, and look like little plums.
I naturally wished to know how they tasted, and so I picked one and
tried it. I do not believe the owner of the grove would object to
the boys and girls picking as many ripe olives as they chose, pro
vided they would give him a cent apiece for all they did not eat
after tasting one. The foliage of olive trees is of a dull grayish
green, and although picturesque when seen in masses and at a
little distance with the sunlight upon it, is not of a cheerful hue.
But an olive grove will always appear more cheerful to those who
have not tasted the ripe fruit than to those who have. The olives
which we use on our tables are picked green and pickled ; those
which ripen are used for oil.
We wander by the side of the little river, which sometimes
spreads out to quite a width, overhung by trees, and then hurries
between rocks toward the mill, where it spreads itself out again
and falls gayly over a dam. Then we sit upon the rocks and
the grass, and look through the great lower arches of the old
bridge, and we see through each one a different picture ; some
times a bit of the river, the mill, and distant hills spotted with
villages and steeples ; sometimes the river, a grove, the bright green
grass, and the deep blue sky ; and then again a white road, with a

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

queer old-fashioned wagon making its way slowly along ; or high,
rocky hills, and a mass of deep green foliage, with a bit of sky just
visible at the top.
And, when we gaze upward, there is the bridge, wonderful in
its size, its beauty, and enduring strength, and still more wonderful
in the story it tells of that great nation which once spread itself
over the known world, leaving everywhere monuments of its power
and wealth. But, with one exception, none of its monuments which
survive to-day are so vast and imposing as this immense bridge,
built simply for the purpose of giving good pure water to the inhab
itants of a little town. Nearly every one who sees the Pont du
Gard makes the remark that it seems strange that such an enormous
and expensive bridge should have been built just to carry water
across that valley. Truly, the Romans were an energetic people.
The reason why the Pont du Gard is now so much more a per
fect structure than that other great remaining work of the Roman
architects, the Colosseum, is that it has always stood at a distance
from towns and cities, whose inhabitants might want its stones to
build their palaces and their huts. It is not the hand of time that
has, in most cases, destroyed the temples and other architectural
works of the ancients, but the hand of man. They were built
strongly and massively; but, although they could resist the storms
of centuries, they could not resist the crow-bars of men, who found
it much easier to take away their stones, already cut and shaped,
than to quarry building material from the rocks. The world has
now more respect for ancient remains than it used to have ; and I
feel sure that if ever a town arises near the Pont du Gard, the
stones of the old bridge will not be taken to build its houses.
But now we hear jingling bells and the cracking of whips, and
here come the little carriages to take us back to Remoulin.
At Nimes, and at some other places in the south of France,

THE ROMANS, BUT NOT ROME. 1 9
there are ruins of amphitheatres and other Roman buildings; but
we shall not visit these now. After a while we wish to go to Rome,
and if we see too many Roman ruins before we get there, it may
take off a little of the edge of the keen pleasure we expect in the
Eternal City.
But the Pont du Gard is something that is different from any
thing else in the world : it would not do to miss that.

II.

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE.

IT is not by any means a humble city to which I am now about to
conduct you : it is an old city, which from time to time has
been as proud as any in the world ; it is Genoa, called by the
Italians La Superba, because of its many magnificent palaces, and
because of its imposing appearance, as it rises in terraces above its
bay on the' side of a crescent-shaped hill. It was called Genoa, so
say the people who make it their business to look into these things,
from the Latin word genu, a knee ; because at the place where the
city stands, the land is bent around the water so as to give the latter
the shape of a bended knee.
As I have said, Genoa has been a proud city. As far back as
the days of the Romans it was an important seaport. It was inde
pendent, and governed itself, and its power increased greatly. Other
towns looked up to it for protection against the Saracen pirates ;
and it acquired possession, not only of islands in the Mediterranean,
but of lands and ports in the East. Its commerce was very exten
sive, and it took a prominent part in the crusades. It made war
against Pisa, and utterly defeated the navy of that city ; and there
is reason to believe that the great Tower of Pisa has never stood up
straight since.
But, in spite of its wealth and its power, Genoa has been obliged
to bend the knee about as often as any city that I know of. In the
tenth century it knelt down to the Saracens, who captured it ; and
afterward it bent its knee to Venice, its great rival in commerce.

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 21

For many years its nobles were arrayed against each other as
Guelphs and Ghibellines, and whenever either party was defeated,
it would call in some foreign power to help it ; and in this way the
city, at different times, fell under the control of various kings and
princes of Europe. The Turks took away its Eastern possessions,
and long afterward it was captured by Germany, and was twice
taken possession of by France. It now belongs to the United
Kingdom of Italy. But, although it is no longer independent,
Genoa stands up very erect in its own estimation ; and it has a right
to do so, for it is the first commercial city in Italy.
Genoa is a bright and lively place, where the people seem to
keep awake all day, and there are a great many things to see here.
An American boy or girl could not go into any part of the city
without finding something interesting. We shall first visit some
of the palaces, and on our way we pass through the street of the
goldsmiths. Genoa is almost as much celebrated for a peculiar
kind of gold and silver work as it is for its palaces, and we shall
wish to stop and look at the shop windows in this busy little street.
There are no sidewalks, but the whole street is a footway paved
with large smooth flag-stones, and if a carriage or wagon appears
in it, it moves slowly among the people. Nearly every little shop
belongs to a goldsmith, as they are called, although they work more
in silver than in gold, and the productions of these artisans consist
almost entirely of small articles and ornaments made of fine silver
wire, often gilded, and woven into the most delicate and beautiful
shapes. Work like this is not to be seen in such perfection any
where as in Genoa. Some of the shops are entirely open in front,
so that you can stand in the street and look at the large cases filled
with this fairy-like gold and silver work ; and, if you wish to buy
some of the articles, you will find that they are not costly.
From this street we turn into another, with tall houses on each

2 2 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

side, and shops and people everywhere. We soon pass an immense
house, which was once a palace, but is now used for other purposes.
Looking up, we see that one of the great windows in the second
story is open, and a lady is sitting at it. She is dressed, in very
bright, though somewhat old-fashioned, attire. Flowers and vines
cluster inside the window,, and there is a hanging cage with a bird.
As we stop and look at her, the lady does not move, and in a few
minutes we perceive that the window, the lady, the open shutters,
the sash, the flowers, and the cage are all painted on the wall in a
space where you would naturally expect to find a window. This
used to be a favorite way of decorating houses in Italy, and in
Genoa we shall frequently see these painted windows, some closed,
and some partly open, some with one person looking out, some with
two, and some with none. The lady at this window has sat and
looked out on the street for hundreds of years. Under her window,
into the great entrance of the palace, used to pass nobles and
princes. Now there are shops in the lower part of the palace, and
you can have your shoes mended by a cobbler in the court-yard.
We soon reach the street which contains the greatest number
of palaces, and which is now called the Via Garibaldi ; and here we
should stop to take a look at the outside of some of the palaces of
the Middle Ages. They are but slightly injured by time, and look
much as they did when they were inhabited by the nobles of the
sixteenth century. One of the first things which will strike some
of us in regard to these palaces is the total absence of front doors,
or doors opening on the street. It is not the custom in Eurooe to
build houses of any pretension with doors on a public thoroughfare.
These great Genoese palaces, often five or six stories hio-h, are
built around a central court, which is entered by an archway from
the street. Carriages go through this archway, and people walk
through it, and they find doors enough when they get into the

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE.

23

court-yard, which is often large and handsome, and adorned with
fountains and statuary. The ground floor is devoted to offices, and
servants. On what we would consider the second story, but which
in Europe is called the first floor, these palaces frequently contain
great picture-galleries, consisting of long suites of rooms filled with
valuable paintings ; and in the third, fourth, and sometimes even
in the fifth story, are the domestic apartments of the family. These
palaces are as large as our great hotels, and there are no elevators
to take people to the upper floors ; but Europeans do not mind
going upstairs ; and the upper floors are often considered the most
desirable of all.
The staircases, which sometimes open from the court and some
times from the inside of the building, are great features of Genoese
palaces, many of which are worth going to see simply on account
of their grand and imposing stairways, which have been designed
by celebrated architects. They are always of marble or stone, and
this fashion prevails in large houses all over southern Europe. An
Italian lady once said to me that she had heard a very strange
thing about America, and that was that our staircases were built
of wood ; and when I told her that was the case, she said she did
not see how we could ever be willing to go to sleep in a house with
wooden stairways ; for, if they were to take fire, how could we get
out ? Houses on the continent of Europe are much safer than ours
in case of fire. In Italy it is seldom that a large dwelling is burned
down ; for, as walls, floors, and stairs are almost entirely stone or
brick, there is very little to burn.
We cannot go into all the palaces in this street ; for, although
it is quite short, it contains over a dozen of them. Some of the
Genoese palaces are still occupied by members of the noble fami
lies for whom they were built in the sixteenth century, but visitors
are generally admitted to portions of all of them, especially the

24 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
picture-galleries. As we walk through room after room of these
immense edifices, the walls covered with valuable pictures and the
ceilings painted by celebrated artists, and then mount grand stair
ways adorned with ancient and modern sculptures, and find other
floors, and seemingly endless suites of other rooms, many of them
of much beauty and magnificence — we wonder how one family
could ever have needed so many rooms, and so grand a house that
must have cost so much money. But we must remember that
these nobles had great numbers of servants and adherents, who all
lived in . the palace ; and they entertained, besides, many visitors,
so that their families were very much larger than any of those to
which we are accustomed, even the very richest and most important
of us. One of the grandest palaces in this street is now called the
Palazzo del Municipio, for it belongs to the city. Another magnifi
cent one is the Palazzo Rosso, so called because it is built of red
stone ; and nearly opposite is the Palazzo Bianco, or white palace.
But the Via Garibaldi, called in old times the Via Nuova, or
new street, does not contain, by any means, all the great palaces
of Genoa. In the Via Balbi, near by, are many of these palatial
buildings, and, among them, the Royal Palace, which is occupied
by the king and queen of Italy when they happen to be in Genoa.
In the great entrance archway we see some soldiers and a porter,
or custodian, dressed in uniform ; and if we look as if we would
give him a franc when we come out, this latter personage will
conduct us through the palace, provided, of course, that the royal
owners, who usually reside in Rome, are not there. We all wish
to know how kings and queens live, and so we go through the
rooms of this palace — the grand saloons, and the smaller ones, the
dining-halls, the queen's bed-chamber, and the king's bed-chamber.
Here is the furniture they use, and the beds they sleep on. Every
thing is very sumptuous and handsome, but we notice that the

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE.

25

king's bedstead, which is of iron, richly gilt, looks old, with some
of the ornaments rubbed off. If King Humbert were one of our
rich men, he would probably have a new bedstead ; but, as he does
not come very often to Genoa, he doubtless considers this good
enough. I think you all will agree that in this palace, as well as in
many others, there is nothing that seems to us very cozy accord
ing to our ideas of such things. The floors are of rich marble or
tiles, and the furniture, though magnificent and costly, appears stiff
and too orderly. But in winter carpets and rugs are laid down,
no doubt ; and when the king and queen are here the tables and
chairs are probably pulled about a little, and things appear more
homelike. In the Pallavacini Palace, which is even finer than that of the
king, after passing through a number of stately apartments, all
cold and splendid, we are shown into a sitting-room, occupied by
the family in the afternoons and evenings, which is carpeted, and
looks almost as comfortable as some of our rooms at home. But a
wonderful silver vase, by the celebrated Benventito Cellini, marks
a difference between this apartment and our sitting-rooms.
The last palace we shall visit is the Doria Palace, the most
interesting in the city ; and on our way there we meet a gentleman
we know. Every one of us is acquainted with him, and we all feel
under great obligations to him. He is very tall and pale, but his
figure is grand and imposing, and he stands up high, where every
body can see him. It is Christopher Columbus — and where should
we Americans have been without him ! It gives us a strange sen
sation, in this Italian city, with its queer streets and tall palaces
and its unfamiliar sights of every kind, to come upon this statue of
good old Columbus, whom we have all known so well from our
earliest childhood, and whom we have been accustomed to look
upon somewhat in the light of the grandfather of our country. The

26 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
Genoese think a great deal of Columbus — who was born in this
neighborhood, you may remember — although they did not do much
for him when he was alive. But there are always people who are
willing to honor a successful man after some one else has given him
a chance to show what he can do. At the foot of the statue is a
kneeling figure representing our country thanking Columbus for
having discovered her; and the whole stands in a beautiful open
square. There are other mementos of Columbus in the city, and
in the Municipal Palace two of his letters are preserved.
At a little distance stands the palace to which we are going,
which was presented by the city, in the year 1522, to the famous
Admiral Andrea Doria, who by his naval victories gave peace and
safety to Genoa, and who was called the Father of his Country.
The admiral was not far from sixty years old when this grand
palace was presented to him, and it might have been supposed that
he would not have many years in which to enjoy it. But the situ
ation seems to have agreed very well with him, for he lived to the
age of ninety-five. This palace is somewhat different in plan from
the others in Genoa ; and we first enter a long portico, or loggia,
which looks out upon an extensive and beautiful garden with sum
mer-houses. Mounting to the first floor, we walk into the great
entrance-hall, on the walls and ceiling of which are fresco-paintings
by Del Vaga, a famous pupil of Raphael. We enter room after
room, with the ceilings and walls covered with paintings and
decorations ; and one of these, a small apartment, is so painted as
to give the idea that it is partly in ruins. There are vacant places
in the ceiling from which stones seem to have tumbled out, vines
creep through wide crevices, and on the top of broken places'in the
walls there sit owls and other birds. A person, not understanding
the fancies and freaks of old-time architects and artists, might be
a little startled on entering this room, and might imagine that if

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 27

he shook the floor with his tread the walls and roof would come
tumbling down upon him. In an apartment called the Titan Hall
is a portrait of the old admiral and his favorite cat, wherein the
cat looks as if she enjoyed the palace quite as much as her master.
Here, too, are the chairs in which Doria used to sit, and many
other articles of his furniture. On one side of the house is a long
room, the outer wall of which is of glass. Here the old gentle
man could walk up and down when the sun shone, and look out
upon his great gardens and his villa, which stood upon a terraced
hill opposite, as well as upon the beautiful harbor of Genoa, and
— at the same time — be as comfortable as if he were sitting before
the fire. This palace still belongs to members of the admiral's
family, but they live in a vast square palace in Rome.
Opening from one of the piazzas, or squares, which are found
everywhere in Genoa, is a little street called a salita, which is
probably different from any street you ever saw before It is but
a few feet wide, and consists of a series of broad steps, paved with
cobble-stones, which lead us downward for a long distance to
a little piazza nearly surrounded by tall houses, on one side of
which stands the small dark church of San Matteo. This is where
old Admiral Doria used to go to church. Over the altar hangs
the long sword he once wore, and in a vault below he is buried.
The little church is filled with beautiful sculptures and works of
art, and on the outside are many inscriptions relating to the Doria
family, some of whom attended service here at least two centuries
before the admiral was born.
There are a good many churches in Genoa, and most of them
are very different from this dark little building. One of them, the
Cathedral, is a very large and old edifice, built of black and white
marble ; and in it, carefully guarded, is a cup or vase, said to be
the Holy Grail, or the cup used by Christ and his disciples at the

28 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

Last Supper. This was captured in the Holy Land, by the
Genoese, during the Crusades. People who wish to believe that
this cup is the Holy Grail, do so, and those who do not, do not.
Another church, Santa Annunziata, which is now attended by the
rich people of Genoa, is gorgeously ornamented, and has the
greater portion of its ceiling covered with pure gold.
When we^ enter any of these churches we do not open a door,
but are obliged to push aside a corner of a great heavy leathern
curtain, which hangs in the doorway. There is always an old
woman or a poor old man to pull aside this curtain for us, in
exchange for a copper ; and inside we find a sacristan, or sexton, .
fond of a little silver, who will show us everything in the church.
Genoa is, as I have said, the great commercial city of Italy,
having now outstripped her former rival, Venice, in this respect ;
and the large harbor is a very lively and interesting place. In
order to see it to the best advantage, we go upon a broad marble
terrace, built high above the crowded streets, and extending for
half a mile along the harbor. This terrace, which was constructed
for the purpose of giving the citizens a promenade by the water
front, where they would not be interfered with by the crowds of
people and vehicles in that part of the town, is about forty feet
wide, and the floor is very smooth, so that persons may often be
seen here skating on roller-skates. It is a delightful place on
which to enjoy the fresh sea-air, and to look down on the harbor,
stretching far out before us, crowded with steamers, sailing-vessels,
and small boats, and shut in by long moles, or walls, v/ith light
houses on them.
Any one who likes to see sailors can have a fine opportunity of
seeing them in Genoa. In the busy streets near the harbor are
to be found hundreds of mariners from every part of the world.
Here they stand and sit about, and talk and smoke, and some of

c- lenofc.

VIEW OF A PORTION OF GENOA. — THE CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA IN CARIGNANO AT THE SUMMIT.

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 3 1

the old fellows look as if they had lived nearly as long as the
famous admiral himself. These sailors, many of whom wear red
woollen caps, and gay sashes around their waists, have often a
piratical look, and it is said that it is not always safe for strangers
to wander among them in certain parts of the town. But there
are so many of us that we can go where we please.
There are plenty of youngsters, boys and girls, to be seen
about the harbor, in which place the idea probably came into the
head of the boy Columbus that he would like to be a sailor, and
see what was to be seen in other parts of the world ; and, for
aught we know, some of the rough-looking little fellows whom we
see sitting on the posts, or running up and down the stone steps
which, in some places, lead to the higher parts of the town, may
yet turn out to be hardy navigators. But there are no more
continents for them to discover — unless, indeed, they go into the
Arctic or Antarctic regions, where the climate, I fear, would not
suit a Genoese.
Near the marble terrace, at one end, is an old building, which
used to be considered one of the most important houses in the
world. It was the bank of San Giorgio, a great banking-house of
the Middle Ages. In the time of the Crusades it furnished money
to the bold knights who went out to recover the Holy Land from
the Saracens, and for centuries it was a most wealthy and powerful
institution. No matter what happened to the Republic of Genoa,
whether the Guelphs or the Ghibellines were uppermost, whether
she was ruled by her own nobles, or doges, or whether outside
potentates were called in to take part in her government, the great
bank of San Giorgio always stood firm. It owned large posses
sions in Corsica and other places, and there was a time when
there was reason to believe that if it had not been for foreign
wars it would have acquired possession of the whole of the little

32 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
republic. But now the old building is no longer a bank, and the
great painting of St. George on horseback, which adorns the wall
facing the sea, has been almost worn away by the rain and salt
breezes of hundreds of years. It is used as a custom-house, and
we can go inside and see statues and pictures of some of the
famous men of Genoa ; but it is much more interesting, if we can
do it, to imagine that we see tall knights, with a great cross
embroidered on their clothes, coming in to talk to the officers of
the bank about the money which is to take them to Jerusalem.
If we wish to see for ourselves how Genoa obtained its name,
we can go to the church of Santa Maria in Carignano, a stately
edifice on a high hill, and ascend to the upper part of the great
dome. From this high point we can see the whole city spread out
beneath us — the surrounding country, with its hills, its groves, and
its villas, and a line of fortifications nine miles long, with its forts
and ramparts ; while, to the south, the bright blue Mediterranean
stretches far away. And when our eyes have taken in all the
landscape, we see how the water comes into the land in the shape
of the bended knee.
When we have walked through the lively and crowded streets
of Genoa ; when we have been in the small piazza in front of the
Exchange, filled with men, talking and clamoring about the price
of stocks and that sort of thing as earnestly as if they were in
Wall Street ; and when we have visited the new Galleria Mazzini,
a long passage, like a wide street, used only by foot-passengers,
, covered the whole length by a high roof of glass, and lined on
each side by handsome shops, and altogether very agreeable for a
walking or shopping expedition in wet weather— we will go to
a place visited by nearly every one who comes to Genoa, which is
not at all lively or bustling, but very much crowded. This is a
cemetery called the Campo Santo, or Holy Field.

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE.

33

The Campo Santo is in some respects a peculiar cemetery. One
thing which makes it very different from what we expect to see in
a city dating from the Middle Ages, such as Genoa, is that there
is nothing at all antiquated or old-fashioned about it. It will be
to us a curiosity of modern times.
This Campo Santo is about a mile and a half from the city, and
is built in the form of a vast square court, with the tombs of the
rich in raised galleries on the four sides, and the graves of the poor
in the flat ground in the middle. All the galleries are built of
white marble, with roofs and long lines of pillars ; and the tombs
are generally placed along the inner side of the galleries, and the
greater part of them are surmounted by groups of life-size statuary.
It is these statues, all of them the work of famous modern Italian
sculptors, which give to the place its queer and peculiar character.
Many of the groups consist not only of statues of the persons
buried in the tombs, but life-like figures of the surviving relatives,
dressed in modern clothes. In one place you will see a father on
his death-bed ; his wife, dressed in the fashion of the present day,
sitting by his side ; while his son, a young man in double-breasted
sack coat and striped trousers, and a daughter, with a polonaise
and plaited skirt, stand at the foot of the couch. These figures are
so well done that they almost seem to be alive ; and as the members
of the family come year after year to the cemetery, they must be
content to see the clothes they were sculptured in getting more
and more old-fashioned. Some of the designs are fine and artistic,
although to our ideas very strange.
In one part of the grounds we perceive a young lady richly
attired in a dress with a long train trimmed with a double row of
ruffles and lace, and wearing a cape edged with scalloped lace,
kneeling at the foot of her father's tomb, while a grand and beauti
ful figure of Christ rises out of some clouds just in front of her,
3

34 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
and with one hand over the recumbent statue of her dead father,
and one over her head, offers her consolation. In another place
there is a group of two sisters, who are kneeling by the door of the
tomb of a third sister ; the door of the tomb is partly open, and the
buried sister, in company with an angel who holds her by the hand,
has just come out of it, and is rising toward the sky. As these
figures are life size, the effect is very striking. Close to this tomb
is one which is planned upon an entirely different idea : a large old
angel, with a long beard and a very grim and severe countenance,
is sitting solemnly upon a closed tomb. His expression gives one
the idea that he has looked around upon the young lady who has
been liberated by the angel, and that he has said to himself : " The
person in the tomb on which I am sitting need not expect to get
out until the proper time comes." There is no doubt that these
groups are considered very appropriate monuments to deceased
friends and relatives by those who have placed them there, but
some of them cannot fail to strike Americans as strange and odd.
Some of the monuments, however, are very beautiful, without
any of these queer fancies, and there are many portrait-statues
of deceased persons. One of these is a figure of an old woman,
exactly life size, who was known in Genoa as a great friend of
the poor. She used to carry them bread and other things which
they needed ; and she is here represented wearing the dress in which
she walked about the town, and carrying a loaf of bread in her
hand. The statue was ordered by her before her death, and she
was very careful to have it made precisely like her ; her gown,
her stiffly-starched clean apron, her cap, and the material and
pattern of her shawl and all her clothes are exactly imitated.
Altogether, she is one of the most life-like old women in marble
that you are ever likely to see. In contrast with this statue is a
beautiful marble figure of a little child, lightly dressed, who is

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 35

stepping with an airy tread above a mass of flowers. The action
is so free and graceful, and her expression so lovely and natural,
that her parents, when they come here, must think they see their
little daughter bounding out to meet them.
On the side of the great square opposite the entrance to the
cemetery is a large circular chapel with a lofty dome. It is
approached by a flight of steps, and presents an imposing appear
ance. The interior of this white marble edifice is very handsome,
the dome being supported by great columns of black marble, each
cut out of a single block. But the most charming thing in this
building is a wonderful echo. The man who shows the place
to visitors stands under the dome, and sings a few notes ; in a
moment these are repeated, clear and loud, from the expanse
above. The effect is so fine that we make him go through the
performance over and over again.
About five miles from the city is the celebrated Villa Pallavicini,
which is considered one of the great sights of Genoa. We can
go to the place by a line of horse-cars, which here have the Eng
lish name of " tramways." In many parts of the continent of
Europe, where horse-cars are now quite common, this English
word has been adopted ; and, if it has no other good effect, it
may teach the French the use of the letter W, which is not recog
nized in their language. The villa belongs to a rich and powerful
Italian family, and visitors are allowed to see it. When we reach
the great gate we apply at the porter's lodge for a guide, for people
are not permitted to go about the grounds alone. After walking
up a broad avenue, we enter another gate, and soon come to the
house, a beautiful and spacious edifice, with marble porticos, and
terraces. A few richly furnished rooms are shown, but, as the Palla
vicini family reside here part of the year, we cannot see the whole
of the house. But it is not the princely residence that we come to

36 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
see : it is the extensive pleasure-grounds around the house, which
are planned in a manner very different from anything to which we
are accustomed. These grounds, which lie on a hill above the
house, are very beautiful, and are crowded with all sorts of imita
tions of natural objects, with queer and ingenious devices of many
kinds, as well as with most lovely groups of flowers and plants ;
while a great variety of evergreens and other trees are so arranged
as to give the grounds the appearance of a wood, although they are
placed with such skill that the sun is by no means always shut out.
As we walk along the winding paths leading up the hill, we see
great masses of camellias, oleanders, roses, azaleas, and other rich
flowers ; some of the camellias being as large as small trees. Plants
from every part of the world are to be found here — coffee, tea,
vanilla, sugar-cane, camphor, and even specimens of the cork-tree.
But we shall see that the person who designed these grounds had
an eye for the queer and surprising as well as for the beautiful.
The walk through the grounds will occupy us about two hours,
and we shall see something novel at every turn. Speaking of turns,
there are swings which revolve like great wheels instead of merely
going backward and forward, and in which we can take a turn if we
choose. Near these is a handsome little marble edifice, built on
the occasion of a visit that the Empress Maria Theresa made to
this villa.
When we get to the top of the hill, we see a castle, strongly
fortified, but which appears to have been somewhat damaged.
These damages are all artificial, and the castle was built to look as
if it had sustained a siege. All about are evidences of the great
fight which never took place. Near by are a number of graves
which are intended to represent the resting-places of the men (who
never existed) who fell during the siege. Among them is the
handsome mausoleum of the imaginary commandant of the castle

THE CITY OF THE BENDED KNEE. 37
who died an imaginary death during the imaginary conflict. The
person who planned these make-believe vestiges of war, which cost
a great deal of money, must have had an odd idea of making a
place interesting. We can go into the castle, and from the tower
we have a grand view of the sea and the country, as well as of the
Pallavicini estate, which extends for a great distance.
Coming down the other side of the hill, we reach a grotto,
which is entirely artificial, but with real stalactites and stalagmites,
brought from real caverns, and all arranged in the most natural
manner ; with a subterranean lake, over which we are taken in
boats. On this side of the hill is a wide and lovely, landscape-
garden containing several lakes, one of which is quite large. As
we walk along, we see some ordinary swings, and if we sit down
in one of them, a jet of water sends a fine shower all over us. In
another place, in passing through an open path, and the sun shining
brightly above us, we find ourselves in a sudden shower of rain ;
this is occasioned by our stepping on a concealed spring in the
path, which immediately surrounds us with thin high jets of water,
which fall in sparkling drops upon us. There are other tricks of
this kind, and they must have been very amusing at first to the
Pallavicinis, although I do not believe they asked the Empress
Maria Theresa to sit down in one of the squirting swings. The
large lake is very beautifully arranged, wide in some places and
narrow in others, with all sorts of curves and bends, and with pretty
little bridges crossing it at different places. We can get into
boats, and be rowed all over it, passing under the bridges among
little islands, and into the shade of the beautiful trees which line
its banks, some of them drooping their graceful branches into the
water. In some places the banks are rich with flowers, and every
thing is planned to look as natural as possible. In the centre of
the widest part of the lake stands an exquisite marble temple

38 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
surrounded by columns, and containing a statue of the goddess
Diana. Some of you will think this Grecian temple the prettiest
thing in the whole grounds.
We will now leave the villa, with its beauties, its queer sur
prises, and its imitations ; and we must also leave the bright,
bustling, and interesting city of Genoa, with a hope that never
again will it be obliged to bend the knee to a foreign foe or a
domestic disturber of its peace and prosperity.

III.
LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME.
CAVING Genoa behind us, we will now pursue our journey into
other parts of Italy, and in so doing we shall find that the
various portions of this charming country differ greatly from
one another. The reason for this variety in manners, customs, and
even the appearance of people and cities, is easily understood when
we remember that the great towns of Italy were once independent
powers, each governing not only the country around it, but often
holding sway over large territories in other parts of the world.
It is only in late years, indeed, that all the various portions of Italy
have been united into one kingdom.
We are going to Rome, but on the way we shall stop at Pisa,
because every boy and girl who has ever studied geography will
want to know if it is standing yet, and if there is likely to be a
great tumble and crash while we are there. There is no need of
mentioning what it is, for every one knows that there is nothing
in the world so tall, which at the same time leans over so much.
As the whale is the king of fishes, and the elephant the king of
beasts, so is it the king of all things which threaten to fall over,
and do not.
The scenery between Genoa and Pisa is very beautiful, lying
along that lovely coast of the Mediterranean called the Riviera di
Levante ; but there are reasons why we shall not enjoy it as much
as we would like. These reasons are eighty in number, and con
sist of tunnels, some long and some short, and all very uncere-

40 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
monious in the suddenness with which they cut off a view. As
soon as we sight a queer old stone town, or a little village sur
rounded by lemon groves, or a stretch of blue sea at the foot of
olive-covered mountains, everything is instantly extinguished, and
we sit in the dark ; then there is another view which is just as
quickly cut off, and so this amusement goes on for the whole dis
tance, which is only a little over a hundred miles. There is an
old story, once told to a story-loving king, about an immense
barn, filled to the top with wheat, and a vast swarm of locusts.
There was a little hole in the roof, and first one locust went in and
took a grain of wheat, and then another took a grain, and after
that another one took a grain, and then another locust took another
grain, and then the next locust took a grain, and so on for ever so
long ; until the king jumped up in a passion and cried out :
"Stop that story ! Take my daughter, and marry her, and let
us hear no more of those dreadful locusts."
The tunnels on the road between Genoa and Pisa remind one
very much of that locust story.
If the city of Pisa had been built for the convenience of visitors,
it could not have been better planned. There are four things in
the town that are worth coming to see, and these all are placed
close together, in one corner; so that tourists can stop here for
a few hours, see the Pisan wonders without the necessity of
running all over town to find them, and then go on their way.
Like every one else, then, we will go directly to the northwest
corner of the city, and the first thing we shall see will be the
great Leaning Tower of Pisa. Every one of us will admit, I am
very sure, that it leans quite as much as we expected, and at first
the girls will not wish to stand on that side of it where they can
look up and see the tall structure leaning over them ; but, as the
tower has stood there for over five hundred years without falling,

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME.

41

we need not be afraid of it now. You all have seen pictures of it,
and know how it looks, with its many circular galleries, one above
another, each surrounded by a row of columns. But none of us
have any idea what a queer thing it is to ascend this tower until
we try it. Inside, a winding stone staircase leads to the top, and
although the tower is one hundred and seventy-nine feet high, and
there are two hundred and ninety-four steps, young legs will not
hesitate to make the ascent. If there is any trouble, it will be
with the heads ; but, as the stairway is enclosed on all sides, there
is no dan
ger. The
steps wind,
but they
also incline
quite a good deal, so that
one always feels a slight
disposition to slip to one
side. At each story there
is a doorway, so that we
can go out upon the
open galleries. Here there is danger, if we are not careful.
When we are on the upper side of the gallery, it is all very well,
because the floor slants toward the building, and we can lean
back and look about us quite comfortably. But when we go around
to the lower side, we feel as if we were just about to slide off the
smooth marble floor of the gallery, which is only a few feet wide,
and that the whole concern would come down after us. Nervous
people generally keep off the lower sides of the galleries, which
have no protection except the pillars, and these do not stand very
close together. This tall edifice was built for a campanile, or bell-
tower, for the cathedral close by ; and when we reach the top we

A DISTANT VIEW OF PISA.

42 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
find the great bells hanging in their places. One of these is an
enormous fellow weighing six tons, and you will notice that it is
not hung on the lower or overhanging side of the tower, but well
over on the other side, so as not to give the building any help in
toppling over if it should feel more inclined to do so. The view
from the top is an extended one, showing us a great deal of very
beautiful Italian country ; but the main object with most of us for
climbing to the belfry is to have the novel experience of standing
on a lofty tower which leans thirteen feet from the perpendicular.
There is a railing up there, and we can safely look over. On the
overhanging side we can see nothing below us but the ground.
The bottom of the wall is not only far beneath us, but thirteen feet
behind us. On the opposite, or higher, side we see the pillars and
galleries sloping away beneath us. It was on the lower side of
this belfry that Galileo carried on some of his experiments. There
could not be a better place from which to hang a long pendulum.
Many people think that the inclined position of this famous tower
is due to accident, and that the foundations on one side have sunk.
But others believe that it was built in this way, and I am inclined
to agree with them. There are quite a number of leaning towers
in Italy ; the one in Bologna being a good deal higher than this
of Pisa, although it leans only four feet. They all were probably
constructed according to a whimsical architectural fashion of the
time, for it is not likely that of all the buildings these towers" only
should have leaned over in this way, and that none of them should
ever have settled so much as to fall.
The great white marble cathedral close by is seven hundred
years old. The front, or facade, is celebrated for its beautiful col
umns and galleries, and inside there are a great many interesting
things to see — such as old paintings, mosaics, and carvings, and two
rows of sixty-eight ancient Greek and Roman columns which sup-

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 43

port the roof, and, were captured by the Pisans when they had a
great fleet, and used to conquer other countries and carry away
spoils. But there is one object here which has been of as much
value to us, and to every one else in the world, as it ever was to
the Italians. This is a hanging bronze lamp, suspended by a very
long chain from the middle of the roof. It was the swinging of
this very lamp which gave to Galileo the idea of the pendulum.
Near the cathedral stands the famous baptistery, which is a
circular building with two rows of columns supporting a beautiful
dome, the top of which is higher than the great bell-tower. The
two most notable things inside are the wonderful echo, which we
all shall wish to hear, and a famous pulpit, covered with beautiful
sculptures by the celebrated Niccolo Pisano, or Nicholas of Pisa
as we should call him.
The last one of this quartet of Pisan objects of interest is the
Campo Santo, or cemetery. This is so entirely different from the
one at Genoa that we shall take the greater interest in it from
having seen that. The first was modern, and nearly all the statues
were dressed in handsome clothes of late fashions ; but here every
thing is very old, the great square building with an open space
in the centre having been finished six hundred years ago. The
crusaders who went from Pisa to the Holy Land hoped, when they
died, to be buried in Palestine. But, as the Crusades failed, they
could not make a Campo Santo there ; but they brought back with
them fifty-three ship-loads of earth from Mount Calvary, and this
they placed in their cemetery of Pisa, in order that they might,
after all, be buried in holy soil. And here they lie now. The inner
walls of the great quadrangle, which is separated from the central
space by open arches and columns, are covered with enormous
paintings, very old and very queer, representing the Triumph of
Death, the Last Judgment, and subjects of this kind, treated in

44 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
the odd way which was the fashion among painters centuries ago.
There are sculptures, ancient sarcophagi, and funeral tablets ranged
along the walls, and the pavement on which we walk is covered
with inscriptions showing what persons are buried beneath it. Many
of these people bear to us, in point of time, the same relation that
we shall bear to the boys and girls of the twenty-fifth century.
There is not much else to see in the city of Pisa. It is a quiet
place, and nearly all the noise is made by the women, who walk
about in their absurd shoes ; these are slippers formed of a sole, a
very high and hard heel, and a little place into which to slip the
toes. Every time a woman makes a step the whole of her foot,
except the ends of her toes, leaves the shoe, the heel of which comes
clanking upon the pavement. How they manage to keep their
shoes on, as they walk about, I cannot imagine ; and the continual
clinking and clanking of the heels on the stone pavements make a
very lively racket.
But there was a time when this city made a good deal more
noise in the world than that produced by the shoes of its women.
It was a powerful maritime power; its ships conquered the Sara
cens right and left ; it took possession of Corsica, Sardinia, and
other Mediterranean islands, and owned a large portion of the
Italian coast, and played a very important part in the Crusades.
But its power gradually declined, and in 1406 it was actually sold
to the city of Florence, to which it belonged for a long, long time.
What thing more humiliating could happen to a city than to be
sold — houses, men, women, and children — to a master which it
did not like !
There are no tunnels on the road between Pisa and Rome ; but
then, on the other hand, the scenery is not very interesting. The
railroad follows very nearly the line of a road built by the Romans
one hundred and nine years before the Christian era. It passes

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 45

through the Maremme, or salt-marshes, a vast extent of forest and
swamp-land. It is so unhealthy in summer time that it is deserted
by all its inhabitants, who go off to the hills.
It is a nine-hours' trip from Pisa to Rome — for railroad trains in
Italy are very slow — and it is dark when we reach that great and
wonderful city. Not many years ago no railroad came into Rome,
and visitors arrived in carriages and stage-coaches ; but now we roll
into a long, glass-roofed station, and outside there are hotel omni
buses and carriages waiting for the passengers. The ideas which
most of us have formed of the city of Romulus and Remus have
no association with such a thing as a hotel omnibus ; and as we roll
away through street after street, lighted by occasional lamps, we
see nothing through the omnibus windows which reminds us at all
of Julius Caesar or Cicero. But, as we turn a corner into a large,
well-lighted space, we see something which we know, from pictures
and descriptions, to belong in Rome, and nowhere else. It is
the famous fountain of Trevi, built up high against the end of
a palace, with its wide sparkling pond of water in front of it, its
marble sea-horses with their struggling attendants, the great figure
of Neptune sitting above all, and its many jets of water spouting
in fountains and flowing in cascades. The fountain itself is not
very ancient, but the water was conducted from a spring fourteen
miles away to this spot by our friend Agrippa, who built the Pont
du Gard which we saw near Avignon. Now we feel that we are in
Rome, in spite of the omnibus.
We do not intend to see Rome according to any fixed plan
founded on the study of history, art, or anything else. We shall
take things as they come, see all we can, and enjoy the life of to-day
as well as the ruins and the art treasures of bygone centuries. On
rainy days we shall wander beneath good roofs in the palaces, the
galleries, the churches of the Middle Ages and the present ; and in

46 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
fair weather we shall walk among the palaces and temples of the
Caesars, which have no roof at all.
There are three cities to be seen in Rome : the Rome of to-day,
the Rome of the Middle Ages, and ancient Rome ; each very dis
tinct from the others, and yet all, in a measure, mingled together.
I lived for some months in a portion of the city where the street
was broad and well paved, with wide sidewalks ; where the houses
were tall and new, with handsome shops in many of them ; where
street-cars ran up and down every few minutes, and most of the
passers-by wore hats, coats, and dresses just like the people to
whom I had always been accustomed — and this street continually
reminded me of some of the new avenues in the upper part of New
York. But if I went around a corner, and down a broad flight of ,
steps, I saw before me a lofty marble column, nearly a hundred and
fifty feet high, around which winds a long, spiral procession of more
than two thousand sculptured warriors, with their chariots and
engines of war, and beneath which lies buried the great Emperor
Trajan. There is nothing about that to remind any one of New
York. Rome possesses but one of these broad, wide avenues, with
horse-cars running through it, and the greater part of the streets
are as narrow and crooked as it was the fashion in mediaeval times
to make them. The ancient streets, within the city, are only to be
seen where excavations have been made, for the Rome of to-day
stands on many feet of soil which has accumulated over the city of
the Caesars.
Nearly every one who comes to Rome wishes to go, as soon
as possible, to the Colosseum, which is rightfully considered the
greatest wonder of the city, and one of the greatest wonders of the
world. Let us leave for a time the street-cars, the shops, and
the life of modern Rome, and put ourselves in the places of the old
patricians and plebeians, and try to get an idea of the sort of sport

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 47

they used to have. We shall find a great part of the massive walls
of this largest place of amusement ever built still standing. In
fact, more than one-half of it is gone, but so much remains that we
can scarcely understand that this is so. The form of the monster
building is elliptical, and one side still reaches to its original height
of four stories, and, even in its most broken parts, portions of the
second story remain. Thus we still see just what sort of building
it was. It contained seats for eighty-seven thousand spectators.
All the inhabitants of three cities of the present size of Pisa could
congregate here, and yet there would be room enough left for the
people of nine small towns of a thousand citizens each ; and all
these people would not encroach on the room required for the great
number of attendants, gladiators, and all sorts of persons necessary
to carry on the games. It was built in the early part of the Chris
tian era, when Rome was still a pagan city. The opening perform
ance was a grand one, lasting one hundred days, and I suppose that
every Roman — man, woman, and child — came to the Colosseum
on at least one of these days, and very many of them probably
attended every day. The greater part of the entertainment con
sisted of gladiatorial combats, in which these men fought not only
each other, but wild beasts. I do not know how many gladiators
lost their lives during the inauguration of the new building, but
more than five thousand wild animals were killed in the hundred
days. At that time hunters were always at work in Africa and
Asia catching wild animals for the Colosseum. Lions, tigers and
leopards, elephants, giraffes, and, after a time, even rhinoceroses
were brought here to be fought and killed. Wild animals were
much more plentiful then than they are now, when it is a very
expensive and difficult thing to get up even a small menagerie.
The arena where the games were held was a vast smooth space,
surrounded by the great galleries, which rose in four tiers above it,

48 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
the top being open to the sky. This space was temporarily planted
by one of the emperors with hundreds of trees, so as to resemble a
small forest, and into this were let loose great numbers- of deer,
antelopes, hares, and game of that kind ; and then the spectators
were allowed to go down into the arena with their bows, arrows,
and spears, to hunt the animals. At other times, the whole of the
arena was flooded with water so as to make it into a lake, upon which
were launched ships filled with soldiers, and naval contests took
place. The Romans had grander ideas of amusements than any
people before or since, and they stopped at no expense or trouble
when they wished to organize a great show. Most of their enter
tainments were of a very cruel character, and we all know how
thousands of Christian martyrs were sacrificed in this arena, and
how thousands of gladiators, who fought one another and wild
beasts, perished here simply to amuse the people.
When we enter upon this open arena, we see that nearly half
of it has been excavated, exposing a great number of walls and
arches, down into which we can look, as into deep cellars. These
extend under the whole of the arena, and were not only used as
passage-ways for men and wild beasts, but were necessary for the
working of the machinery, the trap-doors, and other contrivances
used in the games. In some places we can see the grooves in
which a sort of elevator was worked. The savage beasts were
driven through a narrow alley into the box of this elevator, then
they were suddenly shot up out of a trap-door into the open air,
where there was always something ready for them to do. In
other places there are inclined planes, up which the animals came,
and iron bars, still stout and strong, behind which they stood
glaring until it was time for them to come out. There were great
entrances for the emperor and the nobles ; and all around the
outside there were eighty archways, through which the people

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 49
came in. Each of these entrances was numbered, so that the
people could easily find their way to the different portions of the
galleries to which they had tickets. We can still plainly see
the numbers from twenty-three to fifty-four. Many of the ancient
staircases leading to the galleries yet exist, though they are very
much worn and broken, and are not now used ; but some of them
have been restored to very nearly their former appearance, so that
we can go up to the highest gallery. The poorer people sat in
the topmost row, and, long before we are up there, we shall feel
sure that this class of spectators was willing to do a great deal of
hard climbing for the sake of seeing the shows. The stairways
in use among the Romans had very high steps, much higher than
those in use in our day, and the restorations have been made as
much like the old stairs as possible. Many of us will be surprised
not to find the Colosseum a mass of ruins, encumbered with the
rubbish, and overgrown with vines and the moss of ages. Instead
of this, everything is in excellent order ; the arena, where it has
not been dug away, is smooth and clean, and the pieces of marble
and broken columns are piled up neatly about the sides ; the
galleries are all clear and open to visitors, and there are railings
where the parapets have been broken. We can fearlessly walk
over all the parts that are left standing, and can pass through the
great vaulted passages which extend behind the long tiers of seats,
and then we can go out upon the open galleries.
The Colosseum does not owe its present state of partial ruin to
the ravages of time. It was built to stand for very many centuries.
In the Middle Ages it was used as a fortress, and was still strong
and in comparatively good order in the beginning of the four
teenth century. Then the nobles of Rome began to tear it down
and to use it as building material for their palaces. Some of the
finest edifices in the city are built with stones taken from the poor

50 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
old Colosseum, to which people came for building material just as
if it had been a stone quarry. This went on until 1740, when
Pope Benedict XIV. put a stop to it ; and since then successive
popes have taken a great deal of care of the famous ruins, put
ting up immense buttresses of brick-work, wherever it was neces
sary, to support the broken parts of the walls. Fortunately,
the greater part of the demolition has been done on one side,
but nearly all the marble with which the stone-work was faced is
gone. We have much greater privileges, as we ramble about, than the
Roman populace ever had. We can, if we like, go down into the
passages and curious places under the buildings, where the old-
time spectators were not allowed to go ; we can walk around the
first gallery, which was occupied by the senators and people of
high degree ; and we can even enter the place of the emperor's
box, which certainly no Roman plebeians occupied. This is at one
end of the great oval, and commands a fine view of the open space.
The galleries were arranged so that every one could see very well,
but the fighting men and animals must have seemed very small to
the people on the topmost rows. As we wander about the lonely
galleries and passages, we see many things that seem to bring the
days of pagan Rome very near to us. Here are some loose bricks,
larger and thinner than ours, and of a yellowish color : they look
almost as good as new, and on one side are stamped the initials of
the maker, as clean and sharp as if they had been made yesterday ;
here are great square holes, down which the dust used to be swept
after the performances were over ; and here are many channels
and openings ingeniously arranged to carry off the rain-water — all
of which have a very recent look. On the lower floor we go
through the doorways which lead into the arena, and tread upon
marble slabs worn by the feet of generations of gladiators, as well

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 51

as of Christians and other prisoners, who stepped out here for
their last fight. Under the emperor's box is a passage made for
the entrance of the elephants, and it is interesting to see the great
beams which supported this floor ; these are each formed of enor
mous stones, not fastened together in any way, but supporting
each other by their wedge-like shape, and extending across the
space in a horizontal beam, which five Jumbos, joined in one,
could not break down.
Among the most interesting relics of Roman handiwork to be
found here are the iron bars, as large as the rails on our railroads,
and fifteen or twenty feet long, with which the immense stones in
the lower part of the building were bound together. These are
not old and rusty, but in good condition, with the spikes which
held the ends together still firmly wedged in where they were
driven eighteen hundred years ago, and the marks of the hammers
plainly to be seen on the edges of the tough iron. All' around the
outside of the walls we see numerous holes ; these are the places
from which many of these iron rods were taken out in the Middle
Ages, when iron, especially such good wrought iron as this, was in
great demand.
But we must not spend too much time in this grand old place,
because, interesting as it is, there is so much more for us to see.
Nearly all visitors come to see the Colosseum by moonlight, if
there happens to be a full moon while they are in Rome, and we
may do the same if we are careful ; but we must remember the
fate of Daisy Miller, in Mr. Henry James's story, and the fate of
a great many other young people who are not in stories. Rome,
especially the ruined parts of it, is very unhealthy after night
fall. Rome is still surrounded by the great wall built by the
Emperor Aurelian, sixteen hundred years ago. It is fourteen

52 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
miles long, fifty-five feet high, and there are now twelve gates in
it. The present city is a large one, containing about two hundred
and fifty thousand people, but it is not the great city it used to be.
About two-thirds of the space enclosed by the walls is now covered
by gardens, vineyards, and the ruins of the temples, palaces, and
other grand edifices of ancient Rome. The River Tiber runs
through the city, and is crossed by seven bridges.
One of the most lively parts of Rome is the Piazza di Spagna,
which is a large open space, situated in what is called the
Stranger's Quarter, because near it are many of the hotels fre
quented by visitors. Streets lined with shops lead into this
piazza ; the middle of the space is crowded with carriages for hire
(sixteen cents for a single drive for two persons) ; and on one side
rises the famous Spanish Stairs. This is a series of one hundred
and twenty-five stone steps, wide enough at the bottom for sixty
or seventy boys and girls to go up abreast, and separating grace
fully to the right and left at several platforms. These lead up
to the celebrated Pincian Hill, and at the top of the stairs is the
picturesque church of Trinita de Monti. On bright afternoons a
lot of very queer people, who look as if they had been taken out
of pictures, are to be seen sitting and standing on the steps of this
great staircase. Many of them are children, and some are very
old people. The boys wear bright-colored jackets, knee-breeches,
and long stockings, and shoes made, each, of a square piece of
sheep-skin, with holes in the edges by which it is laced to the foot
by long colored strings which are crossed many times around the
ankles ; they wear very wide hats with peaked crowns, and often
little colored waistcoats. The girls wear shoes like the boys,
bright-colored skirts and bodices, gay striped aprons, and a head
dress composed of a flat, wide strip of white cloth covering the top
of the head, and hanging far down behind. The women are

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME.

53

dressed very much the same way, in red, blue, yellow, and white.
The men, some of whom have splendid white beards, are very fond
of long cloaks with green linings, feathers in their hats, and bright
sashes ; and many of them wear sheep-skin breeches, with the
wool outside. These people have not come out of pictures, but
they all wish to go into them. They are artists' models, and sit
here waiting for some painter to come along and take them to his

ON THE PINCIAN HILL.

studio, where he may put them and their fanciful costumes into a
picture. They are often very handsome, but they look better at
a distance than when we are near them, for they are generally
not quite as clean as a fresh-blown rose ; but, scattered over the
Spanish Stairs in the bright sunlight, they make a very pleasing

54 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
picture. The children occupy their spare time in selling flowers,
and some of the little girls will never leave you until you have
bought a tiny bunch of pansies or violets, which you can have for
almost anything you choose to give for it. If we are fortunate,
we may see a company of these models dancing on one of the
broad platforms of the stairs. One of them plays a tambourine,
and the others dance gayly to its lively taps ; sometimes a boy and
girl slip in among the others, and these two look prettier than all
the others, although they run great risk of being crushed by their
larger companions. There are many artists in Rome, because
there is so very much here that is worth painting ; and conse
quently there is a class of persons who do nothing else but sit or
stand as models.
Many of these long stairways are to be found in the streets of
Rome, for the city is built upon hills, as we all know, and these
flights of steps make short cuts for foot-passengers, while vehicles
have often to go a long way around.
From the top of the Pincian Hill, a portion of which is laid
out as a pleasure-ground, we have a view of a large part of the
city, and, far off in the distance, we see a great dome rising against
the sky. This is the dome of St. Peter's, the largest church in
the world ; and now we will go down into the piazza, take a car
riage, and drive there. Most of us have seen pictures of the
church, and are not surprised at the magnificent square in front of
it, and the great pile of buildings on one side, called the Vatican,
where the Pope lives. This palace contains eleven thousand halls
and apartments, and there is a great deal in it that we must see,
but we will go there some other time. I think that most of us will
find the interior of St. Peter's even larger than we expected ; and,
indeed, it is so vast that it takes some time to understand how
big it is. The great central space, or nave, is large enough for a

LITTLE PISA AND GREAT ROME. 55
public square or parade ground, while in the aisles on each side
of it, in the various chapels, in the transepts, and in the choir or
chancel, there is room enough for seven or eight ordinary city
congregations to assemble without interfering with one another.
There are pictures and statues, grand altars, gorgeous marbles,
and a vast expanse of mosaic work in the dome and other places.
But, after we have seen all these, the size of the church will still
remain its most interesting feature. The interior is so big that it
has an atmosphere of its own, and at all seasons the temperature
remains about the same. If you enter the church in the summer
time, you will find it pleasantly cool ; and if you come in the winter
time, it will be warm and comfortable. As a rule, the churches of
Italy are cold and damp at all times, but this is not the case with
St. Peter's. In regard to its permanent temperature, it resem
bles the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. It ought to be a large
church, for it took one hundred and seventy-six years to build
it ; and, although in that period the workmen took one good rest
of fifty years, the building went on quite steadily the rest of the
time. An excellent way to get an idea of the size of St. Peter's is to
walk around the outside of the church. The entrances to some of
the great art galleries of the Vatican are only to be reached by
going around the back of St. Peter's ; and, as the cabmen of Rome
do not like to drive around there, our drivers will probably put us
down at the front of the church, if they think we do not know any
better, and tell us they cannot go any farther, and that all we have
to do is to just step around the building and we shall easily find
the doors of the gallery. But if we do this we shall step, and step,
and step, under archways and through courtyards, and over an
open square, and along a street, all the time walking upon small
rough paving-stones, until we think there is no end to the circum-

56 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
ference of St. Peter's. It is like walking around a good-sized
village ; and the next time we come, we will make the drivers take
us all the way to the door of the galleries, or they shall go with
out their fares.
If we happen to be at the church on Thursday morning, when
the public is allowed to ascend to the roof and dome (or, if we
have a written permission, any day will do), we will all make this
ascent. A long series of very easy steps takes us to the roof,
which is of great extent, and has on it small domes, and also houses
in which workmen and other persons employed in the church have
their homes. Above this roof the great dome rises to the immense
height of three hundred and eight feet. Around the outside of it
we see strong iron bands which were put there a hundred years
ago, when it was feared that the dome might be cracked by its own
enormous weight. There is an inner and an outer dome, and,
between these, winding galleries and staircases, very hard on the
legs, lead to the top, which is called the Lantern, where we can go
out on the gallery and have a fine view of the country all around.
Those of you who choose can go up some very narrow iron steps,
only wide enough for one person at a time, and enter the hollow
copper ball at the very top of everything. When we look at this
ball from the ground, it seems about the size of a big foot-ball, but
it is large enough to hold sixteen persons at once. On our way
down, before we reach the roof, we will step upon an inside gallery
and look down into the church ; and, as we see the little mites of
people walking about on the marble floor so far beneath us, we
may begin to wonder — that is to say, some of us — if those iron
bands around the outside of the dome are really very strong ; for
if they should give way while we are up there — But, no matter,
we will go down now.
In returning from St. Peter's, we pass an immense round build-

LITTLE PISA AND GREA T ROME.

57

ing, like a fortress, which is now called the Castle of San Angelo,
but was originally known as Hadrian's tomb. It was built by the
Emperor Hadrian in the second century as a burial-place for him
self and his successors. It is now used by the Italian Government
as a barracks and military prison. For hundreds of years it was
occupied as a fortress. An old soldier will take us about and
show us everything. But, just as we are about to start on our

i

— -- i- -A :¦ r.v-h'- '¦¦'¦¦¦ 'i il!', v
\- :-V; :¦. -¦

THE CASTLE OF SAN ANGELO, FROM THE TIBER.— ST. PETER'S IN THE DISTANCE.

rounds, we are obliged to wait while a large body of soldiers march
out ; platoon after platoon, knapsack and gun on shoulder, they
march by, tramp, tramp, until we are tired of seeing them. At last
they all are out, and then we go through the great building, with
its many courts, staircases, and rooms. In the very centre is the

58 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
stone cell which was Hadrian's tomb. But he is not there now ;
long ago his body and his sarcophagus were removed, and the place
for nine hundred years has been the abode of the living, and not
of the dead. What was built for a pagan tomb has been used for
a citadel by every power which has since ruled Rome. When it
was a tomb, the outside was covered with marble and statuary ;
now it is only a tower of brick.

IV.

GREAT ROME AGAIN.

IN the beginning of our visit to Rome I remarked that the
ancient city is now many feet below the level of the present
streets. For centuries upon centuries, dust and rubbish of
various kinds have gradually accumulated and formed a soil which
has thus slowly piled itself upon old Rome, covering it all out
of sight, excepting those portions of the ruins which were tall
enough to keep above this rising tide of earth. In some parts of
the city we may yet see the ruins of temples with the lower parts
of the porticos embedded deeply in the soil, and wherever these
old buildings have been excavated, the entrances and lower floors
are beneath the level of the streets, so that we have to go down to
them by steps. Thus we must descend to reach the arena of the
Colosseum, the whole lower part of this great building having
been covered up in this way. This is the reason why we can still
see, near the ground, the great iron bars which held the stones
together. In the Middle Ages, when people used to come and
take away this iron- work, all the bars which now remain were cov
ered up, and thus protected, while of those in the exposed por
tions of the walls not one is left. This covering up of old Rome
is a great disadvantage in some respects, for it has made necessary
a vast deal of work and expense in excavating the ruins ; but, on
the other hand, it has been of great advantage in saving and pro
tecting until modern times, not only portions of buildings, but
great numbers of valuable statues, mosaics, and other works of

60 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
art. In fact, nearly all the ancient Roman sculptures which we see
in the galleries were preserved in this way, and it is very fortunate
for us that they were ; for, in the mediaeval times, every piece of
ancient marble that could be found, no matter how beautifully it
was sculptured, was either used for building or burned for lime.
It is believed that some of the most valuable statues of antiquity
were thus used to make mortar. Now the work of excavation is
going on all the time ; the greatest care is taken of the ruins that
are thus exposed to view; and every statue that is found, and even
every broken-off hand or foot, is looked upon as a treasure. If I
could believe that the people of the twenty-fifth century would
improve as much on us as we have improved upon the people of
the Middle Ages, I should almost be sorry that I was born so
soon. At some distance from the modern portion of the city, and near
the river, is a rounded green hill, which is called Monte Testaccio.
This hill is a very good example of how the surface of the ground
can be gradually raised in the course of centuries. It is one
hundred and sixty-four feet in height. It stands near the place
where the ancient Roman wharves were situated, at which the
ships bringing large jars and other pottery from Spain and Africa
unloaded. Such jars as were broken were thrown or piled up
here ; and it was said that, at the end of the second century, the
mound was about eighty feet high. The fragments of these jars
and of other pottery that was landed here have thus gradually
formed a little mountain as high as the top of a tall church-steeple.
It has been cut into in many places and found everywhere to con
sist of the same material, and so it may be said to be the laro-est
object in the world that is formed of earthenware. It is long since
any broken pottery has been added to the pile, and it is now cov
ered over with soil, on which the grass grows green and luxuriant.

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 6 1

There is a church in Rome, called San Clemente, which is, in
some respects, an exceedingly curious edifice. Here we find four
buildings, one on top of another. The uppermost is the present
church, built in the year 1 108, and we shall see some interesting
decorations of old-fashioned mosaic work on its walls and ceilings.
But we shall not spend much time here, for there is another church
below this, and under the surface of the ground, which we very
much wish to see. This is a church of the early Christians, which
was first mentioned in the year 392. During one of the wars of
the Middle Ages, the upper part of this building was entirely
destroyed and the rest much damaged ; and about twenty-four
years afterward the present church was built over it, and partly on
its walls. A stairway now leads down into this old church, and we
can wander about the nave and aisles in which the early Christians
used to worship. On the walls are a number of fresco paintings,
representing Bible scenes, and instances in the life of St. Clement,
for whom the church was named. There are also other subjects,
and some of these paintings are still in a very good condition, so
that it is quite easy to see what they represent. In order that
there shall be no mistake, the names of some of the persons are
painted beneath them. Of course all the windows are blocked up
now, and the man who takes us down carries a light ; but on
certain days this ancient church is illuminated with many candles,
and then it is crowded with visitors. Below this church are the
remains of Roman buildings of the time of the emperors, on the
foundations of which the old Christian edifice was built. Three
rooms have been excavated here, and a stairway leads down to
them, but they are very wet and unpleasant. Still below these are
great walls belonging to a building of the time of the Roman
republic. This edifice was of massive stone, and on its walls
were erected the later Roman buildings, which are of brick.

62 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
When that lower edifice, now like the ground floor of a three-
story cellar, was in use, it was, of course, on the surface of the
ground. There are, no doubt, many persons now living in Rome who have
beneath them the residence of some gentleman of the Middle Ages,
under which, perhaps, is the home of a Roman family of the time
of the Caesars ; and this may have been built upon the foundations
of another Roman house, which was considered a good place to live
in some five or six hundred years before. It must be a very satis
factory thing, when one is going to build a house, to find beneath
the ground some good substantial walls which will make excellent
foundations. It very often happens that these remains of ancient
buildings are built of larger stones, and are firmer and more solid
than the houses which are erected upon them. There is another
side, however, to this matter, and the remains of old buildings are
frequently very much in the way of those who wish to erect new
houses, for it does not always occur that the ancient walls are in
the right places, or of a suitable kind, to serve as foundations for
the modern building. Then they have to be dug up and taken out,
which is a great labor. There is a handsome American church in
Rome ; for as great numbers of our country people visit that city
every winter, and a good many live there, it is considered desirable
for us to have a church of our own. This was built in a place
which used to be one of the most populous parts of ancient Rome,
and the work was made very expensive by the difficulty of getting
rid of portions of walls, arches, rooms, and vaults which these
Romans had left behind them, never thinking that in the course of
ages there might be such people as Americans who would wish to
build a church here.
I may remark here, that wherever we go in Europe we shall
find ourselves called Americans, although this term would apply just

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 63

as well to Canadians, Mexicans, or the inhabitants of Nicaragua.
The fact is, that the name of our country cannot very well be
applied to its citizens. To speak of us properly, we should be
called United-States-of-Americans ; but this is too long a title,
and in Europe the term Americans is generally applied to the
people of the United States, and to no others. It is not well
to have too much name. I used to own a dog whose whole
name was Fax Mentis Incendium Gloria, but I always called him
" Fax." I have said that Rome offers wonderful attractions and advan
tages to artists, but we shall find that it offers just as much to those
who love art, but are not artists. The city is crowded, so to speak,
with collections of painting and statuary, among which are to be
found some of the greatest works of the kind in the world. When
we begin to visit the principal galleries, some of which are in pri
vate palaces, and some in public buildings, we shall think that they
exist everywhere in the city. Our first art expedition will be made
to the Vatican, because that is so grand and interesting a building
in itself, and because it contains the most important art treasures
in Rome. Among these are the famous Sistine Chapel, which owes
its reputation to the wonderful frescos by Michael Angelo ; the
Stanze, or rooms, of Raphael, which contain a great many frescos
by this great master ; Raphael's Loggia, a long gallery with a glass
front, the ceiling of which is adorned with frescos, which are some
times called Raphael's Bible, as they consist of scenes from the
Old and New Testaments. Then there is the gallery of pictures,
most of them by great masters ; and the department of sculpture,
consisting of many halls and galleries filled with an almost endless
collection of statues, sarcophagi, bas-reliefs, and other works of the
greatest ancient sculptors.
To visit these collections, which alone are worth a trip to

64 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
Europe, we must have printed permits, which are very easily
obtained. To reach the Sistine Chapel, the picture galleries, and Raphael's
rooms, we must present ourselves at the bronze gates, the principal
entrance to the Vatican, situated to the right of the great square
in front of St. Peter's. The Vatican, with its galleries and grounds,
together with St. Peter's and some other buildings, belongs exclu
sively to the Pope, who exercises here a sovereignty entirely dis
tinct and separate from that of the king of Italy, who now includes
the rest of Rome in his dominions. The Pope has his own soldiers,
who are not very many, and who generally act as guards to the
various parts of the Vatican. Behind the bronze doors, which are
enormous barred gates, we shall see some of these soldiers, one of
whom will ask us for our per messos, or permits. I am sure you never
beheld military gentlemen like them before. They are called the
Swiss Guard, and are dressed in a uniform of flowing tunic and
breeches, formed of broad perpendicular stripes of black, red, and
yellow, long stockings striped in black and yellow ; and on state
occasions they wear brass helmets with heavy white plumes, and
carry halberds, or pikes with axe-heads at the ends. The officers'
dress, of the same design, is of bright silk, and they make a dazzling
appearance. These men appear as if they belonged to the Middle
Ages and had nothing to do with our modern times ; and they
very properly seem so, for their uniform was designed by Michael
Angelo not long after the discovery of America, and their costume
has never been changed. It used to be the custom of many of the
potentates of Europe to have personal guards composed of Swiss
soldiers, as they were considered more honest and trustworthy than
any others. In Walter Scott's " Quentin Durward" you will learn
a great deal about the Swiss guards of France. In Paris the
porter at the doors of great houses is still often called " The

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 65

Swiss," although he is almost always a Frenchman. And these
guards of the Pope are now Italians, but they still retain the old
name. Rome is full of the greatest things in the world, and I believe
that the marble staircase of the Vatican which now extends itself
before us, straight on and up in a gentle slope to such a distance
that the people at the top seem dwarfed, as if they were at the
end of some long avenue of trees, if not the greatest straight
flight of steps in the world, is certainly one of them. It is called
the Scala Regia, or royal stairway, and up it we go. The steps
are not very high, but very broad, which is the case in most
of the Roman palaces, and this makes the ascent easier ; but
when we come to the top we shall find that the business of going-
upstairs is by no means at an end. When we have found stair
way after stairway, and have gone up and up and up to the
various places we have come to see, we shall understand what
it is to be in a building ten stories high, and without an
elevator. As I have said before, the entrance to the sculpture galler
ies is reached by going around St. Peter's Church. There are
many of these galleries filled with the great works of Greece
and Rome, and here we shall find the originals of many world-
famous statues with which we are all familiar from engravings
and casts, such as the Apollo Belvidere, the Laocoon, and the
beautiful Mercury, formerly known as Antinous. The magnificent
marble halls, the mosaic pavements, and the grand collection of
sculpture to be seen here will be a delight and surprise to us,
no matter how much we may have read or heard about them
before. In this part of the building there is also the vast library of the
Vatican, in which there are a great many interesting things to be
5

66 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
seen besides books, such as superb and costly presents made to
different popes by European sovereigns.
Although we are in the Pope's house, we shall not see him, for
the public is not allowed to enter his private apartments and
beautiful grounds.
Another great collection of sculpture we shall find at the
Capitoline Museum, a building on the Capitol Hill, once the seat
of the ancient Roman government. In this collection is the famous
Dying Gladiator, or, as it should be called, the Dying Gaul ; and
the Faun of Praxiteles, a beautiful statue of a youth, which is well
known to all of us who have read Hawthorne's story of " The
Marble Faun." In this Capitoline Museum and in a building
opposite, called the Conservatori, there are a great many antique
statues and sculptures, and among them, in the last-named building,
is one which I am sure my young companions will find very inter
esting. It is the tombstone of a boy named Q. Sulpicius Maximus,
who died at the age of eleven and a half, in consequence of having
worked too hard at school. I do not believe that many of my
young readers are likely to die from this cause, but if any of them
should feel inclined to study too hard and play too little, they
might get some useful hints from this tombstone. Young Q. Sul
picius was engaged in a competition with fifty-two other scholars
in writing Greek verses, and succeeded in excelling them all. It
would, however, have been better for him personally if he had not
done so well, for his efforts killed him, and ail he gained was fame.
This has been very lasting, for his achievements are related upon
this tombstone, and all of us who are learned enough may read
quotations from his Greek verses, which are inscribed upon the
marble, and gaze upon the statuette of the boy himself, no doubt
a very good portrait.
In the central square of the Capitol, which is surrounded on

GREAT ROME AGAIN.

67

three sides by buildings, stands a very large bronze statue of
Marcus Aurelius, once emperor of Rome, mounted on a spirited
horse. This is the only equestrian statue which has been preserved

^ 2.i«;«"l

"'* .Oniijtg.atAI' j! W

A BIRD S-EYE VIEW OF A PART OF ROME.

in a perfect condition out of the many that decorated ancient
Rome. Michael Angelo, who designed the buildings which at
present stand on this hill, was very fond of this statue, and
especially admired the horse. One day, while he was studying it,

68 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
he forgot that it was not alive, and wishing to see it in another
position, he cried out, " Cam / " which means, Go on. After looking
at this horse for some time, one might easily imagine that a shout
or a touch of a whip would make it jump.
A long inclined plane, covered with an asphalt pavement, leads
down to the street below ; and near the top of this incline is a
large iron cage, in which some live wolves are always kept. This
is in memory of the ancient wolf who was good enough to take
care of Romulus and Remus when there was nobody else to do it.
This wolf is still considered as a Roman emblem ; pictures and
carvings of it are seen on many buildings and public places, and it
is even stamped on pats of butter. It is a great pity, from an
artistic point of view, that some more graceful creature did not
adopt the little babies who afterward founded the city. Not far
from here, on the Palatine Hill, is still shown a cave which is
said to be the identical den in which the old wolf established her
little orphan-asylum. In the course of our rambles we shall pass
this, and those who choose may go in.
In nearly all the palaces and villas of the nobles in and about
Rome there are collections of paintings and sculptures, some of
them very large and filling many halls and rooms. We shall try
to visit as many of these as we can, for nearly every one of them
contains some famous pieces of antique sculpture or some of the
great paintings of the masters of the Middle Ages. In one of
these, the Spada palace, there stands, in an outer hall, a tall statue
of the Roman general Pompey, which is believed to be the very
statue at the feet of which Julius Caesar was assassinated by Brutus
and the other conspirators. In the Rospigliosi gallery is Guido's
famous Aurora, which is a fresco covering nearly all the ceiling of
a large room. We all are familiar with engravings and copies of
this picture, but we shall find it rather difficult to look as long as

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 69

we wish at the original without making our necks ache by bend
ing our heads backward as we gaze at the ceiling. To obviate
this obstacle to the enjoyment of the picture, a looking-glass is
fixed upon the table in such a way that visitors can look down into
it and see the perfect reflection of the beautiful fresco above their
heads. Many of the churches, too, contain famous works, and
among these we shall certainly not omit San Pietro in Vincoli,
where sits Michael Angelo's majestic and awful statue of Moses.
No end of statues, no end of paintings, no end df grand palaces
full of the works of ancient and modern artists, shall we see while
we are in Rome. The great difficulty will be not to allow our
desire to enjoy beautiful things to tire us out. > Visitors often
overtax their strength ; but we shall be prudent, and not work too
hard in the pursuit of pleasure.
The burying-places of Rome are among its most curious sights.
We have seen one of these, the tomb of Hadrian, which was an
enormous edifice built for the last resting-place of one man and a
few of his family ; and now we shall visit a small building which
contained the remains of quite a congregation of people. This is
situated near one of the city gates, in a place now occupied by vine
yards, and is called a columbarium. It is a small square house, of
stone, the greater part underground, and contains but one room, into
which we descend by a very steep and very narrow flight of stairs.
The ancient Romans very often burned the bodies of deceased
persons, and in this place they kept the little urns, or caskets, which
contained the ashes. All around the four walls of the room, and in
a large square pillar of masonry in the centre, are little recesses,
like pigeon-holes ; and this resemblance is the reason for the name,
columbarium, meaning pigeon-house. These holes are each about
a foot square, and deep enough to hold from two to four of the
earthen pots or stone boxes in which the ashes were kept ; and

70 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
this building contained six hundred of these urns. Each pigeon
hole was owned by a family, whose name we can see inscribed on
a marble tablet over the opening. Sometimes it is stated who is
buried inside, and on some of them various particulars are given,
such as when and how the little vaults were bought. It is very curi
ous and interesting to walk about this room and read the names and
ages of persons who were thus conveniently buried some eighteen
centuries ago. Many of the jars and boxes still remain, and some
of them contain fragments and cinders. There are other colum
baria in Rome, but this is the best, and the only one we need visit.
Just outside the Porta Maggiore, one of the principal gates of
the city, is a very odd specimen of a burial-place which we all shall
wish to see. It is the tomb of a baker, built by himself in the days
of the Roman republic, some time before the beginning of the
Christian era. It is a stone edifice, as large as a little house, and
constructed in the form of a baker's oven. This ancient maker of
bread, whose name was Marcus Vergilius Eurysaces, was probably
a very good baker, and he did not wish this fact forgotten after
his death. All around his tomb are small sculptured figures
representing bakers attending to different parts of their business,
some grinding grain, others kneading and making up loaves of
bread, and others baking it. There is also on it an inscription in
Latin, stating that this is the monument of the said Eurysaces, and
that he was not only a purveyor of bread, but a city official. In
order that no one should miss seeing this inscription, it is repeated
on several sides of the monument. The desire for fame on the
part of the builder of this oven-tomb has surely been gratified, for
his monument has stood about two thousand years, and I have no
doubt that the good baker is still inside of it.
The .Roman catacombs are very famous, and we all know that
they are a vast collection of subterranean passages and apartments

GREAT ROME AGAIN.

71

running in many directions underground, some far under the others,
and forming labyrinths in which any one would certainly be lost
who should venture into them without a guide. These are situated
in the vast plain which surrounds Rome, and is called the Cam-
pagna ; and some of these catacombs are said to extend so far that
parts of them are under the city. They were the burial-places of
the early Christians, and in them they also used to hold religious
services, when they were so persecuted that they could not worship
openly. We shall visit the catacomb of Callistus, which is the
largest one ; and to reach it we go out over the famous Appian
Way, a great military road built by the Romans, where for part of
the distance our carriage wheels roll over the very stones on which
the Roman chariots used to be driven ; and as these chariots had no
springs, their occupants must have been greatly jolted, although the
road is even now as good as many modern paved streets. There is
a line of heavy curbstones on each side, and the narrowness of the
road and the marks of the ancient wheels upon the stones show how
much wider are our modern vehicles than were the chariots of old.
A drive out on this Appian Way must have been a melancholy
pleasure to the ancient Romans, for it was lined on each side by
miles of tombs, many of them very handsome edifices, like small
castles and temples, with pillars and statuary. Remains of these
tombs are still seen on each side of the road, and portions of some
of them are in good preservation ; and on marble slabs, and over
little porticos, we can read the names of many persons who were
buried here. We can go out for miles on this road, which was made
three hundred years before Christ, and we shall find the Campagna
very interesting, with its vast expanse of green pastures, on which
we see herds of the fine Roman oxen, with their enormous horns,
sometimes nearly a yard long ; herdsmen wandering about with
their flocks of sheep and goats at their heels ; gentle hills covered

72 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
with wild flowers ; and over all, stretching far away, long lines of
stone arches, the remains of ancient Roman aqueducts, some of
which are in such good condition that they are still used to bring
water to the city.
But the catacombs we are to visit are but little more than a
mile from the city walls, and we soon reach them. At a small
building we find guides, who give each one of us a lighted taper.
Then we form in line, and go down a long flight of stone steps to
the doleful depths of this underground labyrinth. We find our
selves at first in a long passage, a little higher than our heads, and
so narrow that we can touch each side of it by stretching out our
arms. It is simply dug out of the soft rock and earth, and in each
of its walls are cavities, one above the other, in which once rested
the bodies of the early Christians. Some of these were in marble
boxes, or sarcophagi, and others more rudely buried. But very
few of them are here now. Many of the sculptured marbles have
been taken to the Roman museums, and thousands of the bones of
the early Christians have been carried away as relics, and buried
in churches all over Europe. In a line, each holding his pale
light, we follow our guides through the long passages of this
dreary place. Occasionally, as I have said, are little chambers and
chapels; but the catacombs consist, for the most part, of these
narrow earth corridors, absolutely pitch-dark, and turnino- and
winding in every imaginable way. It is necessary that those at
the end of our line should not lag behind, for if they were to lose
sight of the main body they would never, of themselves, be able to
find it again. One passage looks just like another, and there are
so many of them to the right and the left, that it would be impos
sible for an inexperienced person to know when he should go
ahead and when he should turn. But we all keep together, and
after a long underground walk we at last come out into the day-

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 73
light, in a spot at some distance from that where we went in. We
have gone through but a small part of these great catacombs, but
it has been quite enough.
There are other kinds of burial-places in Rome, but we shall
visit no more of them, though they, give us ideas in regard to the
manners and customs of bygone people which we could get in no
other way.
In the busy and lively streets of modern Rome we find enough
to fill up all the time we can spare from the galleries and the
antiquities. There are hundreds of shops, and the windows are
full of many things which are peculiar to Rome ; such as beau
tiful gold-work of intricate and delicate patterns, many-colored
Roman silken scarfs and blankets, great ox-horns beautifully
polished and mounted with silver, coral made into every imagi
nable ornament, mosaics and cameos, brilliant water-color draw
ings of the Roman school, and no end of small bronzes and sculp
tures and other works of art. Among the things exhibited are
the soft-colored Roman pearls ; and, looking through some of the
shop-windows, we can see women at work making these pearls,
for they are manufactured by human beings, and not by oysters.
Each pearl is made on the end of a piece of wire like a knitting-
needle. Hundreds of these needles, with pearls on the ends, some
little things and some the size they are going to be, may be seen
sticking in cushions, while women and girls are at work dipping
other wires into the soft composition out of which the pearls are
made, moulding and forming them into the proper shape. Every
where, too, may be seen men, boys, and women with baskets of
tortoise-shell ornaments, of fruits and flowers, and nearly every
imaginable thing to sell ; and foreign visitors have sometimes a
great deal of trouble to escape from these energetic street
merchants.

74 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
Many of the streets are very narrow, and have no sidewalks ;
and when we are walking in these we have to look out for ourselves,
for there is no one else who will do it. Carriages and wagons come
rattling along, expecting every one to get out of their way, and
sometimes we must slip into doorways, or squeeze ourselves flat
up against walls, in order not to be run over. Paving-stones and
people all appear the same to a Roman driver ; if they don't get
out of the way he will go over them. Sometimes when I have
been in one of the little open Roman carriages, it has almost taken
my breath away to see the driver dash into the midst of a crowd
of people ; I certainly expected that somebody would be knocked
down, but I never saw any one injured, or even touched. Practice
makes excellent dodgers of Roman foot-travellers. The fact that
it is against the law to get in the way of a vehicle helps to make
them careful. In many parts of Europe, persons who are knocked
down or run over by vehicles are fined or imprisoned.
The royal palace is in Rome, and the king, princes, and many
of the other nobles live in or near the city, and we may often see
their handsome equipages in the streets and in the parks. Very
often we shall meet the beautiful Queen Margharita, who is a gra
cious and pleasant lady, and bows to the people as if she knew
them all. King Humbert, too, is constantly to be met on fine
afternoons. He is very fond of doing his own driving, and as he
has over two hundred horses in his stables, he can always have a
pair to suit him. It is harder for a king to drive than for any
other person to do so. He must hold the reins and o-uide the
horses, he must also hold the whip, and he must always have a hand
free with which to take off his hat, which he does on an average
three times a minute. If ever I ride behind a fractious pair of
horses, I do not wish a king to drive them.
The modern Romans, even the common people, have a proud and

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 75

dignified air. They seem to have preserved something of the spirit
of their ancestors. The men are very fond of long cloaks, a corner
of which they throw over the left shoulder as the old Romans did
their togas. It is quite amusing to see a letter-carrier delivering
the mail, with his cloak thrown around him in this martial way. As
for people who are truly martial, there are plenty of them to be
seen in Rome. Soldiers are everywhere ; handsomely dressed offi
cers among the people on the sidewalks ; private soldiers, singly or
two or three together, hurrying hither and thither on all sorts of
errands; and very often a regiment, with a band, marching along
at a quick rate, as if something were about to happen, every man
with his rifle and his knapsack, and a whole cock's tail of feathers in
his hat.
As I have said before, the Italian Government is busily carry
ing on the work of excavating the ruins of ancient Rome, and
among the most interesting of these are the remains of the old
Roman Forum, where the most important of the public buildings
and temples stood, and where assemblies of the people were held.
We shall wander for hours about this great open space, which is
not far from the Colosseum ; we shall see the triumphal arch of
Septimius Severus ; the remains of temples with some of their beau
tiful sculptured pillars still standing, tall and strong ; the narrow
streets, with their pavements of wide flag-stones, in which are the
deep ruts worn by the old Roman wheels. These stones are marked
in some places with circles, on which are indicated the points of
the compass. On one side of the Forum is the lower part of the
Basilica Julia, a great public building erected by Julius Caesar, with
its long line of steps, the marble floors of its corridors, and some of
its mosaic pavement still remaining. In these corridors we shall
see, scratched on the marble slabs of the floor, squares and circles
on which the Roman boys and men used to play games while idling

76 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
outside the halls of justice. Near one of the temples is a broad
platform from which orators addressed the people. Here Marc
Antony stood when he pronounced the oration over the body of
the murdered Caesar ; and, if we examine the place, we shall find
that, near the edge of the low platform of stone, some of the great
slabs are much worn. This was the best position for the speakers,
and it must have required the sandals of generations of orators to
so rub down and wear away the stones. It is probable that it was
on this very spot Marc Antony stood ; and if any of the boys think
that to take his place would inspire them with eloquence, they have
but to stand there and try. Near by is the triumphal arch of Titus,
which he erected when he returned victorious from Jerusalem ; and
among the other sculptures on it we can still see, very clear and
plain, the great seven-branched golden candlestick which he carried
away from Solomon's Temple.
A few steps from this brings us to the entrance of the palaces
of the Caesars. These are" the remains of the palaces built by the
Roman emperors, and they cover a large extent of ground. Of
some of them, all the upper parts are gone, nothing remaining but
portions of walls and marble floors and fragments of sculptured
columns; while^of others there are still many archways, corridors,
and apartments. On the grounds is a small house with some of the
rooms nearly perfect, in which are to be seen the paintings on
the walls and the leaden pipes by which the water was brought in.
Everywhere there are remains of beautiful marbles and sculptures.
At one end of the grounds is a pcedagogium, or schoolhouse. Here
are several rooms, on the walls of which can be seen caricatures and
inscriptions made by the Roman boys. They are scratched with a
steel stylus, which they used for writing. Some of the pictures are
quite good, and a number of the names of the scholars are to
be seen.

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 77
We shall wander a long time over these palatial grounds, and
in one place we shall see a small stone altar with an inscription on
it stating that it was erected to the Unknown God.
All about this part of Rome are ruins of other immense and
costly buildings erected by the Roman emperors. A moderate walk
will bring us to the remains of the lower part of the celebrated
Golden House of Nero, where we may wander through many great
vaulted corridors and rooms. The Emperor Nero, as we all know,
was as wicked a man as ever lived, and did all the injury to his
fellow-beings that it was possible for him to do ; but I used to
think, and I suppose everybody agreed with me, that the time had
long since passed when he could cause injury to any one. Yet
when I was visiting these ruins, which in places are very damp and
wet, I caught quite a bad cold, and for about a week I was very
severe on Nero. Who could imagine that anything he had done
would have injured a peaceful American of the nineteenth century !
But the influence of the wicked is far-reaching.
Over the ruins of this Golden House, which must have been a
magnificent palace, the Emperor Titus erected baths, of which we
may still see portions ; but these are nothing to the grand remains
of the Baths of Caracalla, where we shall spend an hour or two.
This was an immense and magnificent building, capable of accom
modating sixteen hundred bathers. A great part of its tall walls are
still standing, and here we can walk through the immense rooms,
some still retaining portions of their beautiful mosaic pavements,
and we may even go down into the cellars, where are still to be seen
the furnaces by which the water was heated. There was prob
ably never in the world so grand and luxurious a bath-house as
this. It had great halls for promenading and recreation, and a
race-course ; and in it were found some of the most valuable statues
of antiquity.

78

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

Many of us will be surprised to find the greater part of the
Roman ruins of brick. This brick-work is of so good a quality
that it has lasted almost as well as stone. The marble outside of
most of these walls has long since been carried away. Some of

IN THE BORGHESE VILLA GARDENS.

the more important buildings, however, are of stone, and there are
some beautiful marble pillars and porticos still standing.
We all have heard the statement that Rome was not built in a
day, and we shall find out for ourselves that it takes a great many
days to see it, even if we only glance at things which we should like

GREAT ROME AGAIN. 79

to examine and enjoy for hours. But we shall try to use profitably
all the time we have to spend here, in this old city, great in ancient
times, great in the Dark and Middle Ages, and great now. We
shall visit very many churches, each different from the others, and
each containing some interesting painting or possessing some archi
tectural beauties which make it famous. Among these are the Pan
theon, a circular church, formerly a pagan temple, still perfect, and
lighted by the same great round opening in the roof, through which
the rain came in the days of Julius Caesar just as it does now. Here
Raphael, Victor Emmanuel, and other celebrated men are buried.
We must also see the church of St. John Lateran, with an extensive
building attached which for a thousand years was the palace of the
popes, but is now an interesting museum ; and Santa Maria Mag-
giore, with its beautiful chapels ; and the Borghese villa, and its
beautiful gardens, filled with works of art ; and we must not fail
to visit the magnificent new church of St. Paul's, outside the
walls, the finest religious edifice of recent times, the vast marble
floor of which, as smooth and bright as a lake of glistening ice,
is worth coming to see, even if there were no mosaics, and no
cloisters with splendid marbles and columns, and pillars and altars
of alabaster and malachite sent from sovereigns of Europe and
Africa. And very different from all this is what we see in the Jewish
quarter of Rome, where the narrow streets are crowded with men,
women, and children, each one with something to sell ; while the
fronts of the houses are nearly covered with old clothes hung
against them, and where there are dingy little shops crowded
with bric-a-brac and all sorts of odd things, some of which we
shall like to take home with us — but must be careful how we
bargain. There is more, more, more, to be seen in Rome and in the

80 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
beautiful villages near by, but we can stay no longer now : so we
will all go to the Fountain of Trevi, each of us will take a drink
of water, and each of us will throw a small coin into the pool;
for there is a legend which says that people who do this when
they are leaving Rome will be sure to come to this wonderful
city again.

V.
AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES.
EVERY one of us who has ever read anything at all about Italy
will remember that the Bay of Naples is considered one of
the loveliest pieces of water in the world. It is not its beauty
only which attracts us : it is surrounded by interesting and most
curious places, and some of these we shall now visit.
Although Naples is the most populous city of Italy, it will not
take us very long to see it as it is, and that is all there is to see.
Her people have always lived for the present ; they have never
occupied themselves with great works of art or architecture for
future ages ; and the consequence is, that, unlike the other cities of
Italy, it offers us few interesting mementos of the past. Some of
you may like this, and may be much better satisfied to see how the
Neapolitan enjoys himself to-day than to know how he used to do
it a thousand years ago. If that is the case, all you have to do is
to open your eyes and look about you. Naples is one of the noisi
est, liveliest cities in the world. The people are very fond of the
open air, and they are in the streets all day, and nearly all night.
The shoemaker brings his bench out on the sidewalk and sits there
merrily mending his shoes. Women come out in front of their
houses and sew, take care of their babies, and often make their
bread and cook their dinners in the open street. In the streets all
sorts and conditions of men, women, and children, work, play, buy,
sell, walk, talk, sing, or cry ; here the carriages are driven furi
ously up and down, the drivers cracking their whips and shouting ;
6

82

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

here move about the little donkeys, with piles of vegetables or
freshly cut grass upon their backs, so that nothing but their heads
and feet are seen ; and here are to be found noise enough and dirt
enough to make some people very soon satisfied with their walks
through the streets of Naples.
The greatest attraction of Naples is its famous museum, which
contains more valuable sculp
tures and works of art and
more rare and curious things
than we could look at in a
week. There is nothing in
it, however, which will inter
est us so much as the bronze
figures, the wall-paintings,
the ornaments, domestic uten
sils, and other objects, which
have been taken out of the
ruins of the buried cities of
Pompeii and Herculaneum. The collection of these things is
immense, for nearly everything that has been dug from the ruins
since the excavations began has been brought to this museum.
Some of the bronze statues are wonderfully beautiful and life-like ;
and such figures as the " Narcissus" from Pompeii or the " Repos
ing Mercury " from Herculaneum have seldom been surpassed by
sculptors of any age. There are many rooms filled with things that
give us a good idea of how the Pompeiians used to live. Here are
pots, kettles, pans, knives, saws, hammers, and nearly every kind
of domestic utensil, and all sorts of tools. There is even a very
complete set of instruments used by a dentist. In one of the cases
is a bronze bell with its cord hanging outside, by which, if we
choose, we may produce the same tinkle which used to summon

SMALL SHOPS IN NAPLES.

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 83
some Pompeiian servant to her mistress. Little furnaces, bath
tubs, money-chests, and hundreds and hundreds of other articles,
some of which look as if quite good enough for us to use, meet our
eyes at every turn. In another room there are many cases con
taining articles of food which have been taken from the houses of
Pompeii. The loaves of bread, the beans, the wheat, and many
other articles, are much shrunken and discolored ; but the eggs look
just as white and natural as when they were boiled, eighteen cen
turies ago.
The sight of all these things makes us anxious to see the city
that was so long buried out of sight of the world, and only brought
to light again about a hundred years ago. A short ride by railway
takes us from Naples to Pompeii, and, after being furnished with
guides, we set out to explore this silent little city, whose citizens
have not walked its streets since the year 79 a.d.
This unfortunate place, which, as you all know, was entirely
overwhelmed and covered up by a terrible shower of ashes during an
eruption of Vesuvius, at the base of which it lies, is now in great
part uncovered and open to view. The excavations which have
been made at different times since 1748 have laid bare a great many
of the streets, houses, temples, and public buildings. All the roofs,
however, with the exception of that belonging to one small edifice,
are gone, having been burned or crushed in by the hot ashes. We
shall find, however, the lower parts and the courts of nearly all the
houses still standing, and many of them in good condition. The
first thing which excites our surprise is the extreme narrowness of
the streets. They all are well paved with large stones, and many
of them have raised sidewalks, which leave barely room enough
between for two chariots or narrow wagons to pass each other.
Here and there are high stepping-stones, by which the Pompeiians
crossed the streets in rainy weather, when there must have been a

84 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
great deal of running water in these narrow roadways. Every
where we see the ruts which the wheels have worn in the hard
stones. There are remains of a great many private houses ; and some
of these which belonged to rich people have their walls handsomely
ornamented with paintings, some of them quite bright and distinct,
considering the long time that has elapsed since they were made.
There are also a great many shops, all. of them very small; and in
some of these still remain the marble counters with the jars that
held the wines and other things which were there for sale. In a
bakery there remain some ovens, and large stone mills worked by
hand-power or by donkeys. Along street after street we go, and
into house after house. We enter large baths with great marble
tanks and arrangements for steam heating. We visit temples, one
of which, the Temple of Isis, bears an inscription stating that,
having been greatly injured by an earthquake in the year 63, it was
restored at the sole expense of a boy six years old, named N. Popi-
dius Celsinus. There are two theatres, and a great amphitheatre,
or outdoor circus, besides an extensive forum, or place for public
meetings. The more we walk through these quiet and deserted
streets, and into these desolate houses, the shorter seem to us the
eighteen centuries that have passed since any one lived here. It is
scarcely possible to believe that it has been so long since these
mills were turned, these ovens in use, or people came in and out
of these shops. In some places there are inscriptions on the walls
calling on the citizens to vote for such and such a person for a
public office.
A building has been erected as a museum, and in this are pre
served plaster casts of some of the people who perished in the erup
tion. These people were covered up by the fine ashes just where
they fell, and in the positions in which they died. These ashes hard-

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES.

85

ened, and although the bodies, with the exception of a few bones,
entirely disappeared in the course of ages, the hollow places left in
the ashes were exactly the shape of the forms and features of the
persons who had been there. An ingenious Italian conceived the

BOYS AT WORK IN THE EXCAVATIONS OF POMPEII.

idea of boring into these hollow moulds and filling them up with
liquid plaster of Paris. When this became dry and hard, the ashes
were removed, and there were the plaster images of the persons
who had been overtaken and destroyed before they could escape
from that terrible storm of hot ashes, which came down in quanti
ties sufficient to cover a whole city from sight. In some of these
figures the features are very distinct, and we can even distinguish

86 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
the texture of their clothes and the rings upon their fingers. There
are eight of these figures — men, women, and girls — besides the cast
of a large dog. To stand and look upon the exact representation
of these poor creatures who perished here, takes us back, more
forcibly than anything else, to the days when Pompeii was a lively,
bustling city. Could this poor man with the leather belt around
his waist, or this young girl with so peaceful an expression, have
fallen down and died in these positions just forty-six years after
the death of Christ ?
^ We may walk until we are tired, and we cannot in one visit
properly see all that is interesting in the excavated portions of
Pompeii; and there is so much of the little city yet covered up,
that, if the work of excavation goes on at the present rate, it will be
about seventy years before the whole of Pompeii is laid open to
the light. Men are kept steadily at work clearing out the ruins,
and it may be that we are fortunate enough to be the first visitors
to see some little room with painted walls, or some jar or piece of
sculpture from which the ashes and earth have just been removed,
and which the eye of man has not seen since the first century of
the Christian era.
It is the most natural thing in the world, after we have explored
this ruined city, to desire to visit the volcano which ruined it.
There it stands, the same old Vesuvius, just as able to cover up
towns and villages with rivers of lava and clouds of ashes as it ever
was. Fortunately it does not often choose to do so, and it is upon
the good-natured laziness of their mountain that the people who
live in the plains all about it, and even on its sides, depend for their
lives and safety. There are few parts of the world more thickly
settled than the country about Vesuvius.
The ascent of the mountain can be best made from Naples
because we can go nearly all the way by railroad. Vesuvius is not

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES.

87

always the same height, as the great cone of ashes which forms
its summit varies somewhat before and after eruptions. It is gen
erally about four thousand feet high, although a great eruption in
1872 is said to have knocked off a large part of its top. At p'res-

VIEW OF EXCAVATED PORTION OF POMPEII, LOOKING NORTHWEST.
ent it is steadily increasing, because, although there have been no
great eruptions lately, the crater is constantly working, and throw
ing out stones and ashes. Still there is no danger if we are careful,
and we shall go up and see what the crater of a real live volcano
looks like. The last part of our trip is made on what is called a

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

funicular railway, which runs nearly to the top of the great central
cone, fifteen hundred feet high, on which the cars are drawn up by
wire ropes. This railway, however, does not take us quite all the
way, and there are some hundred feet of loose ashes up which we
must walk before we reach the top. The way is very steep, we
sometimes sink into the ashes nearly up to our knees, and alto
gether it is a piece of very tough work. But, if any of us feel
unequal to it, we can be taken up in chairs, each borne by two stout
porters. We cannot be sure what we are going to see when we
are at the summit : smoke and vapor are constantly arising from
the crater, and sometimes the wind blows this toward us, and makes
it impossible to see into the great abyss ; but at other times we
may approach quite near, and see the smoke and steam rising from
below, while stones and masses of lava are thrown into the air and
fall back into the crater. The ground in some places is so hot that
eggs may be roasted by simply allowing them to lie upon it. If we
are not careful, some of us will have the soles of our shoes badly
burned by walking over these hot places. The sight of this great
crater always burning, and smoking, and seething, and sometimes
throwing the light of great fires up from below, is enough to make
some people nervous ; but unless we go too near the edo-e, or
expose ourselves to the fumes of the sulphurous gas which arises
from the depths below, there is no particular danger on the top of
Vesuvius. If the weather is fine, we get a grand view of the bay
and the country around about ; and even if we have been fright
ened or tired, or have to get a pair of new shoes when we go down
the mountain, the fact that we have looked into the crater of an
active volcano is something that we shall always remember with
satisfaction. As long as we are anywhere on the Bay of Naples we need
never expect to be rid of Vesuvius ; and, indeed, we need not wish

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 89

to, for by day and night it is one of the finest features of the land
scape. The people in Naples and all the surrounding country
justly consider it .the greatest attraction to travellers. Every hotel-
keeper, no matter how little his house is, or where it is situated,
has a picture made of it with Vesuvius smoking away in the back
ground. The poor mountain is thus moved about from place to
place, without any regard to its own convenience, in order that
tourists may know that, if they come to any one of these
hotels, they may alv/ays have a good view of a grand volcano.
One of our excursions will be a drive along the eastern shore
of the bay to the little town of Sorrento, and we shall find the road
over which we go one of the most beautiful, if not the most beauti
ful, that we have ever seen in our lives. On one side are the
mountains and hills covered with orange and lemon groves, olive
and pomegranate trees, and vineyards ; and on the other, the beau
tiful blue waters of the bay, with its distant islands raising their
misty purple outlines against the cloudless sky. Sorrento, the home
of wood-carving, as many of you may know, was a favorite sum
mer resort of the ancients, and the old Romans used to come here
for sea-bathing. Near by are the rocks on which, according to
ancient tradition, the sirens used to sit and sing, for the sole pur
pose, so far as we have been able to discover, of exciting the atten
tion of the sailors on passing ships, and attracting them to the
rocks where they might be wrecked. We can get boats and row
beneath these very rocks, but never a siren shall we see ; although
there are great caves into which the water flows, and into the
gloomy and solemn depths of which we can row for quite a long
distance, and imagine, if we please, that the sirens are hiding behind
the rocks in the dark corners, but knowing very well that, as we
have heard about their tricks and their manners, it will be of no
use for them to sing their songs to us. Even now the people of

90 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
Sorrento have fancies of this sort, and many believe that the ravines
near the town are inhabited by dwarfs. There are a great many
interesting and pleasant things about Sorrento ; but, after all, the
object which we shall look at the most and find the most enjoyable
is our friend Vesuvius. The great volcano is many miles from us
now, but as long as we are in this bay we cannot avoid it. All day
it sends up its beautiful curling column of steam, which rises high
into the air and spreads out like a great white tree against the sky,
while at night this high canopy of vapors is lighted at intervals to
a rosy brightness by flashes of fire from the crater below. And
from this point of view the volcano shows us at night another
grand sight. Not very far below the summit four streams of lava
have broken out, and, after running some distance down the moun
tain-side, flow again into the ground and disappear. At night we
can see that these lava streams are red-hot, and, viewed from afar,
they look like four great rivers of fire. For months these have
been steadily flowing, and after a time they will disappear, and
the mountain will set itself to work to devise some other kind of
fireworks with which to light up the nightly scene.
From Sorrento we shall take a little steamer to the island of
Capri, in the most southern part of the bay. The town has no
wharves at which a steamboat can lie, so we take small boats and
row out to wait for the steamboat which comes from Naples and
stops here. The poet Tasso was born in Sorrento, and as we row
along the river-front of the town, the greater part of which is
perched upon the rocks high above the water, we shall float directly
over his house, or rather the foundations of it, which we can see a
few feet below us through the clear, transparent water. Once the
town extended much farther into the bay than it does now ; year by
year the water encroached upon the land, and now there are but
few places at the foot of the cliff where there is room for houses.

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 91

While we are waiting here, several boats filled with Italian boys,
some of them very little fellows, row out to us, and sing songs and
choruses for our benefit, hoping for coppers in return. The little
fellows sing with great vivacity, keeping admirable time, and clap
ping their hands and wagging their heads, as if they were fired with
the spirit of their songs. They are not at all like sirens, but
they will charm some money from us ; and when we seem to have
had enough music, they will offer to dive into the water after copper
coins, each wrapped in a piece of white paper so that they can see
it as it sinks. While engaged in this sport, the steamboat comes
up, the steps are let down, we climb on board, and are off for
Capri. This island has long been noted for two things — its Blue Grotto
and its pretty girls. We shall have to take some trouble to see the
first, but the latter will spare themselves no trouble to see us, as
we shall presently find. It is not often that any one examines
an island so thoroughly as to go under it, over it, and around
it ; but this we shall do at Capri, and we shall begin by going
under it.
It is only when the weather is fine and the sea is smooth that the
celebrated Blue Grotto can be visited ; and, as everybody who goes
to the island desires to see this freak of nature, the steamboat,
when the weather is favorable, proceeds directly to the grotto. We
steam for a mile or two along the edge of the island, which appears
like a great mountain-top rising out of the water, and come to a
stop near a rocky precipice. At the foot of this we see a little hole,
about a yard high, and somewhat wider. Near by lie a number of
small boats, each rowed by one man, and, as soon as our steamboat
nears the place, these boats are pulled toward us with all the power
of their oarsmen, jostling and banging against each other, while the
men shout and scold as each endeavors to be the first to reach the

92 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
steamboat. In these boats we are to enter the grotto, three of us
in each, that being the greatest number they are allowed to carry.
When we go down the side and step into the boats, we are told that
we must all lie down flat in the bottom; for, if our heads or shoul
ders are above the sides of the boat, they may get an awkward
knock in going through the hole in the rock, which is the only
entrance to the grotto. As one boat after another pushes off from
the steamer, the girls will probably nestle down very closely; but I
think most of the boys will keep their faces turned upwards, and at
least one eye open to see what is going to happen. The water of
the bay seemed quite smooth when we were on the steamboat, but
there is some wind, and we now find that the waves are running
tolerably high against the rocky precipice before us, and dashing
in and out of the hole which we are to enter. As we approach this
opening, the first boat is pulled rapidly toward it ; but a wave which
has just gone in now comes rolling out, driving the boat back, and
bumping it against the others. Some of us are frightened, and wish
we were safe again on the steamboat ; but there is no danger : these
boatmen are very skilful, and if one of them were to allow his boat
to upset, he would lose his reputation forever. Again the boat is
pulled forward, this time with an in-going wave ; and, as it reaches
the entrance, the man jerks in his oars, seizes the roof and sides of
the aperture with his hands, and with much dexterity and strength
shoots his boat into the grotto. One after another, each boat
enters, and, as we all sit up and look about us, we find ourselves in
a strange and wonderful place. It was worth while to be frio-fitened
and jostled a little to be in such a grand sea-grotto as this. The
floor is a wide expanse of light blue water, not rough like the bay
outside, but gently agitated by the waves at the mouth of the cave,
and every ripple flecked with silvery light. Each boat, as it moves
through the water, has an edging of this rippling light, which drips

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES.

93

and falls from the oars whenever they are raised. The grotto is
quite large, and over all is a domed roof of rock, and this twinkles
and sparkles with bluish light. It is, indeed, what it has been
named — a blue grotto. We naturally wonder where all this blue
light comes from. There are no openings in the roof above, and,
as we look over toward the dark hole by which we came in, we see

THE BLUE GROTTO, ISLAND OF CAPRI.

that little light can enter there. The fact is, that the opening into
the cave under the water is much larger than it is above, and the
bright sunlight that goes down into the water on the outside comes
up through it into the grotto. It goes down like the golden sun
light it is, and it comes up into the grotto more like moonlight, but
blue, sparkling, and brilliant. Everything about us seems weird
and strange. One of the men, without a coat, stands up in his
boat, and the blue light playing on the under part of his white
shirt-sleeves curiously illuminates him. At the far end of the

94 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
grotto is a little ledge, the only place where it is possible to land,
and on this stands a man in thin cotton clothes, who offers for a
small sum of money to dive into the water. In a few moments
down he goes, and we see him, a great silvery mass, sink far below
us. Soon he comes up again, ready to repeat the performance as
often as he is paid for it.
The most beautiful description of the Blue Grotto is to be
found in " The Improvisatore," a story by Hans Christian Ander
sen, in which his rare imagination has thrown into this grotto, and
over its walls and waters, a fairy-like light that is more beautiful
perhaps than the blue light that comes up from the sea. There are
persons who have read his account, and the beautiful story of the
blind girl and her lover, who have afterward been disappointed
when they saw the grotto for themselves ; but it is said that if such
persons should come a second time the beauty of the place would
grow upon them, and they would see the fairy-like scene that they
have read about. I never visited the grotto the second time.
After a while, our boats go out rather more easily than they
came in, and we are soon on the steamboat, and off for the Marina
Grande, or principal landing-place of the island of Capri. There
is no wharf, and we are taken off in small boats. The town of
Capri is not here ; it is high up on the steep hills above us : but
there are some houses and one or two hotels scattered about near
the water, and very soon the pretty girls come down to meet us,
and right glad they are to see us. Some of them are as young
as fourteen, and some are as old as twenty ; many of them are
really handsome, with regular features, large dark eyes, and that
clear, lightly-browned complexion which some people think more
beautiful than white. They are plainly, but some of them prettily,
dressed, and all have bare heads and bare feet. Nearly all of them
have strings of coral, which they are not slow to urge us to buy ;

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 95

and we find that it is because they hope to make a little money by
selling these, that these pretty girls are so glad to see us. Others
are leading little donkeys on which we may ride to the town above.
But we shall notice that not one of them is begging. The people
of this island are very industrious and very independent.
Capri was named by the Romans Capreae (the island of goats),
but I do not know whether this name was griven because there were
a good many goats here, or because it was a good place for goats.
The latter would have been an excellent reason, for the island is all
"up hill and down dale." Until very recently there were no roads
upon the island for carriages or wheeled vehicles, and if people did
not walk up and down the steep paths which led everywhere, they
rode upon donkeys or horses ; but lately roads have been con
structed which wind backward and forward along the hillsides and
precipices to the two small towns upon the island, Capri and Ana-
capri. Some of-us will take pony carriages up the road to Capri;
others will walk ; and others will ride donkeys, each attended by a
woman or a girl, who steers the little beast by the tail, or encour
ages it with a switch. The island is about half a mile high, and
after we reach the little town, and have had our dinner, we prepare
to scatter ourselves over its surface.
We shall find this island one of the finest places for walks,
rambles, and scrambles that we have yet seen. After we reach the
town there is no more carriage-road, and the principal thorough
fares, which lead through the little fields and gardens, and by occa
sional scattered houses, are about five feet wide, and paved with
small round cobble-stones. These are not very pleasant to walk
on, but we shall soon discover that if these roads were smooth we
should not be able to go up and down them at all. We shall see
here very funny little fields of grain, beans, and other crops. Some
of the wheat-fields are not much bigger than the floor of a large

96 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
room in one of our dwelling-houses. The people are poor, and
they cultivate every spot of land on which anything useful will
grow. A half-hour's walk above the town will take us to some
high points, from which we get beautiful views of the Mediterra
nean to the south, and the Bay of Naples to the north, while away
to the west we can see the island of Ischia, looking so peaceful
under the soft blue sky that no one could imagine that only a few
years ago it had been visited by a terrible earthquake, in which
hundreds of people perished. From one of the high places to
which we can walk, we look down the precipitous rocks to the sea,
far below us ; and out in the water, entirely disconnected with the
land, we see three great pointed masses of rock, some little dis
tance from the shore. On the very top of one of these is a small
house or tower built there by the ancient Romans. What it was
intended for, on this almost inaccessible place, is not exactly known,
but it is believed that it was built for a tomb. I suppose some of
you think that it is a great deal harder to rid ourselves of the
Romans than of Vesuvius, but it cannot be helped ; we shall find
that they have been wherever we wish to go. On the land side of
this promontory, we look down into a rocky valley called the Vale
of Matrimony, near the bottom of which is a great natural arch, or
bridge of rock. The name of this vale is a corruption of a name
the Romans gave it, and it does not look as if it had anything to
do with matrimony. Another of our walks will take us to a very
high point, on which are some ruins of the villa of Tiberius, the
Roman emperor. This gentleman, having involved himself in a
great deal of trouble at home, concluded to retire to this rocky
island, where he would be safe from his enemies, and here he lived
until his death in the year 37 a.d. Capri must have been a very
different place then, as far as the manners and customs of its inhab
itants are concerned. The emperor built no less than twelve hand-

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 97

some villas in various parts of the island, and made all necessary
arrangements to enjoy himself as much as possible. The villa
which we are visiting was one of the largest, and the remains of
vaulted chambers and corridors show that it must have been a very
fine building. A short distance below it is the top of a precipice,
from which, tradition says, Tiberius used to have those persons
whom he had condemned to death thrown down into the sea.
This was not an unusual method of execution with the Romans,
and, if Tiberius really adopted it in this place, his victims must
have met with a certain and speedy death.
If any of us really desire to see a hermit, we can now be grati
fied, for one of that profession has his dwelling here. He prob
ably does live here all alone, but he does not look like our ordinary
ideal of a hermit. He will be glad to receive some coppers, and
also to have us write our autographs in a book which he keeps for
the purpose. A hermit autograph-collector in the ruined villa of a
Roman emperor, on the top of a mountainous island in the Medi
terranean, is something we did not expect to meet with on our
travels. Wherever we go in our walks about the island, we shall meet
with the pretty girls. They are always at work, but, unfortunately,
they are sometimes engaged in much harder labor than that of
selling coral or leading donkeys. Often we may see lines of girls,
who, if nicely dressed, and wearing shoes and stockings, would do
credit in appearance to any boarding-school, each carrying on her
head a wooden tray containing stones or mortar for masons who
are building a house or wall ; and at any time they may be seen
going up and down the steep paths of the island carrying heavy
loads upon their heads. As I said before, the people here are
generally poor, and everybody who can, old and young, must work.
Why there are so few boys in comparison with the girls, I do not
7

98 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
know. It may be that the boys go away to other parts of the
world, where they can find work that will pay them better than
anything they can do on their native island.
I said, when we first came here, that we should go under, over,
and around this island ; and when we have rambled through the
valleys and over the hills, and have paid a visit to Anacapri, the
other little town, we may say that we have been over it ; when we
visited the Blue Grotto, we went under it; and now we shall go
around it, by taking boats and making what is called the giro, or
circuit of the island. The trip will require several hours, and we
shall see that the island of Capri is rather rich in grottos, and that
the monotony of such water caverns is varied by having them of
different colors. One of them is the White Grotto, which would
doubtless be considered very pretty, if it were the only one here.
But afterward we shall see the Green Grotto, which is very beauti
ful indeed, in which the water and the rocks are of a fine green
hue. When we reach the three high rocks, which we saw from
above, we shall see that the central one is pierced by an arched
opening, through which the boatmen will row our boats.
And now, having spent as much time on this charming island
as we think we can spare, we pack up the valises and other light
baggage which we brought with us, and make everything ready to
leave the next morning. But when the next morning comes we do
not leave. The island of Capri is not a place to which you can
come when you choose, and from which you can depart when you
feel like it. The day is fine, the sun is bright, and the sky is blue ;
but there is a strong wind blowing, and the bay is full of waves.
They are not very high waves, to be sure, but anything which has
the slightest resemblance to rough weather is sufficient to make the
captains of the small steamers which ply between Naples and Capri
decide to suspend operations until the bay is smooth again. If

AROUND THE BAY OF NAPLES. 99

people are disappointed and have to stay where they do not wish
to stay, they must blame the winds, and not the captains, who, if
told that an American or English sailor would think nothing of the
little gales that are sufficient to keep them at their anchorage, would
probably shrug their shoulders and say that they were not Ameri
can or English sailors, and were very glad of it.
Sometimes visitors are kept at Capri a week waiting for a
steamer. It is possible to go over to Sorrento in a fishing-boat;
but the roughest part of the bay lies between us and the home of
the wood-carvers, and it is not over such water and in little boats
that I propose to personally conduct my young friends. So we may
congratulate ourselves, that, if we have to be imprisoned for a time
on an island, there is no pleasanter one for the purpose than Capri,
and shall therefore contentedly wait to see what happens next.

VI.

IN FLORENCE AND VENICE.

WE left ourselves in Capri, in the previous chapter, not
knowing how long we should have to stay there, but I am
happy to say, that, after having been detained for two
days, during which we scattered ourselves over the whole island,
and made up our minds that it was a place where we could spend
a summer vacation with perfect satisfaction, the steamboat came
and we sailed away.
And now we are in Florence, having come by railway from
Naples, stopping over night in Rome. As I have said before, each
prominent Italian city is as different from all the others as if it
belonged to another country ; and, in fact, at one time or another
they each did belong to a different country.
We cannot walk in the narrow streets by the tall palaces, and
in the great open squares of Florence, called by the Italians La
Bella because it is so beautiful, without being reminded at every
step of bygone times ; and yet there is nothing ancient about
Florence. It is preeminently a city of the Middle Ages, and, with
the exception of the dress of its citizens, it looks almost as mediae
val to-day as it did in the time of Dante and Michael Angelo. The
Romans were here, of course, but they left few or no ruins behind
them, and in our rambles through Florence we shall never think of
the ancient Romans. This, I know, will be a comfort to some
of us. It was in the Middle Ages that Florence raised itself up so
that the whole world might see it, and it was not only political

IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. ioi

power or commercial greatness that then was seen, but a city of
poets and architects, of men of learning and of thought. One
of the charms of Florence now will be that we can see it just as it
was at the time of its greatest glory. The lofty, fortified palaces
appear in as good order as when they were first built; some of
them are still inhabited by the descendants of the princes and
nobles who built them. In the walls of these palaces are the same
iron rings to which the knights and cavaliers used to tie their
horses, and here, too, are the iron sockets in which torches were
thrust to light up the street about the palace doors. These things
are sound and strong, and would be perfectly fit for use to-day, if
people still tied their horses to rings in the sides of houses, or
thrust torches into iron sockets. It is a peculiarity of the city that
nearly everything, no matter how long ago it was made or built,
is in good condition. Florence has been well kept, and if the
painters and poets, the architects, the sculptors, and philosophers of
former days could return to it, they would probably feel very much
at home. Giotto could look up at the beautiful campanile, or bell-
tower, that he built, and find it just as he had left it ; and, if he
had forgotten what he meant by the groups and symbols which he
put upon it, he could step into the adjoining street and buy a book
by Mr. Ruskin, the English art critic, which would tell him all
about it. Dante could sit on the same stone (if somebody would
take it out of a wall for him ) on which he used to rest and watch
the building of the great duomo, or cathedral. This stone, now
called the Sasso di Dante, was placed, after the poet's death, in the
wall of a house near the spot where it used to lie, and there it is
now, with an inscription on it. Farther on, the two architects who
built the cathedral would find statues of themselves— one looking
up at the dome, because he made that ; and the other at the body
of the building, because that was his work. The great, round

102 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

baptistery, near by, would look very familiar, with its beautful bronze
doors, on which are twelve exquisite bas-reliefs representing Scrip
ture scenes. And if these returned Florentines were to go inside,
they would probably see some babies baptized in very much the
same way in which it used to be done in the Middle Ages. On
the opposite side of the street they would still find the bigallo, a
very pretty little building, in the open porch of which babies
were put on exhibition at certain periods, so that any one who
wished to adopt a child could come there and see if any one of
those on view would suit. It was, in fact, a sort of baby market.
The place is now an orphan asylum, but I believe the babies are
not set out for adoption. In a small street, not far from the cathe
dral, Dante would find his old house still standing ; and Michael
Angelo could go into his house, and find, in the room which he
used as his study, a lot of unfinished pencil-drawings just as he
left them.
In the principal piazza, or square, of the city would still be seen
standing the great Palazzo Vecchio, which is a town hall now, just
as it used to be ; and near by still stands the vast open portico
adorned with statuary, in which the nobles and the magistrates
once gathered to view public spectacles or meetings in' the open
square. But Savonarola, the famous monk and patriot of Florence,
could not see the spot in this square where he was burned at the
stake. This place has been covered by a handsome fountain.
Here, in the vast Uffizzi Palace, the Duke de Medici, Cosmo III.,
would find that now-celebrated statue of Venus which he brought
to Florence in the sixteenth century. It was an ancient statue
then, but its great fame has come to it since, and it still is known
as the Venus di Medici, and not by the name of its sculptor — Cleo-
menes the Greek, the son of Apollodorus.
What a grand collection of pictures and sculptures, with the

AV FLORENCE AND VENICE.

103

most of which they would be very familiar, would the returned
Florentines of the Middle Ages find in the long galleries of the
Uffizzi Palace, and in those of the Pitti Palace on the other side of
the River Arno which runs through the .city ! These two palaces

THE MERCATO VECCHIO.

are united by a covered gallery, which forms the upper story of a
very old bridge called the Ponte Vecchio, which is a very curious
and interesting structure. Each side is lined with little shops,
which, ever since the year 1593, have been occupied by goldsmiths
and jewellers. The shops are still there, and, if the old-time gold-

104 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
smiths were to come back, they would have no difficulty in finding
their old places of business.
The Pitti Palace is a very grand building, with a front as long
as a New-York block from avenue to avenue. The massive stones
of which it is built, some of them twenty feet long,- are rough and
unhewn, and the whole building has a very massive and imposing
appearance. This and the Uffizzi Palace together contain one of
the most valuable and extensive collections of pictures in the world.
Even the covered way over the bridge has its walls hung with
pictures. Here we shall wander from hall to hall, and gallery to
gallery, and look upon many of those great works of art, of which
we have so often seen engravings, or which we have read and heard
about. *
The Bargello is a large and old stone palace, once the resi
dence of the Podesta, or chief magistrate, of the town. It is
now a museum filled with all sorts of curious things, generally
relating to old Florence, such as arms, costumes, etc. There are
also here a great many statues and other works of art. One of
these is that fine figure of Mercury, casts of which we have all
seen. It stands tip-toe on one foot, and is winged on head and
heels. The palaces of Florence were built for fortresses as well as for
residences, and they still stand, tall, massive, and gray, lookino-
down upon the narrow streets of the city. On the corners of some
of these we shall see great lamps surrounded by the intricate and
beautiful iron work for which the artist blacksmiths of the Middle
Ages were famous.
It will soon become evident to those of us who have not remem
bered the fact, that 'the Medici family were once very prominent
citizens of Florence. There are Medici statues in the public
places ; the Medici palaces indicate the power and wealth of the

IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 105

family ; and in the Church of San Lorenzo, besides some grand
sculptured tombs by Michael Angelo, we shall see the Chapel of
the Princes, an immense hall, built by the Medici family as a place
in which to bury their dead, at a cost of over four millions of
dollars. The octagonal walls of the room, which is very high and
covered by a dome, are composed of the most costly marbles and
valuable stones, while upon lofty pedestals around the room are the
granite sarcophagi of six of the Medici princes, gorgeously adorned
with emeralds, rubies, and other precious gems.
If we happen to be in Florence on Ascension Day, we shall see
a great many people in the streets, or in the old market or Mercato
Yecchio, who offer for sale little wooden cages, two or three
inches square, which are used in a very peculiar way. Each per
son who wants to know what his or her fortune is to be during-" the
ensuing year buys one of these cages, and into it is put a cricket,
great numbers of which are caught on that day by children, and
even men and women, in the fields and roads outside of the town.
Each cricket is kept in its cage without food, and if it grows thin
enough to get out between the little bars, and escapes, then its
owner expects good luck during all the year; but if the cricket's
constitution cannot withstand privation, and it dies in the cage
before it is thin enough to get out, then the person who impris
oned it must expect misfortune. Many travellers buy some of these
curious little cages as mementos ; but if we do not wish to be
troubled by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,
or our own consciences, we shall not go into the cricket fortune-
telling business.
The suburbs of Florence are very beautiful, and from some
points in them we have charming views of the city, and the valley
in which it lies, the river, and the mountains all about. To the
north, on an eminence, is the very ancient and picturesque town

io6

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

of Fiesole, with remains of great walls which were built by the
Etruscans before Romulus and Remus were ever heard of.
Going on with our journey, the next place we shall visit is
Venice, the " City in the Sea." This lies, as we all know, in a shal
low part of the Adriatic, and is built upon three large islands and
one hundred and fourteen smaller islands. Instead of streets it

A BIT OF VENICE

has one hundred and fifty canals. The railway on which we arrive
crosses a bridge more than two miles long — the wide stretch of
water lying between the city and the mainland ; and when we go
out of the station, instead of finding carriages and cabs in waiting
for us, we see the famous long black boats of Venice, called gon
dolas. There is not a horse, a cab, or a carriage of any kind in
all the city. The people go about in gondolas or other kinds of
boats, or walk in the alleys, streets, and squares, which are found

IN FLORENCE AAD VENICE. 1 07

all over the city. If any one wishes to cross a canal, he can do it
by that one of the three hundred and seventy-eight bridges that
happens to be most convenient.
The Grand Canal, nearly two miles long, and as broad as a
small river, winds through the city. At one end of it is the
railway station, and at the other the hotel to which we are going.
When we are all ready — four of us, with our baggage, in each gon
dola — the two gondoliers, one standing at the stern and the other
at the bow, push upon their long oars and send us skimming over
the water. We shall not make the whole tour of the Grand Canal,
but soon leaving it, we glide into one of the side canals, and thread
our way swiftly along, between tall houses rising right out of
the water, under bridges, around corners, past churches, and open
squares filled with busy people — grazing, but never touching, other
gondolas going in the opposite direction, until we shoot out into
the lower part of the Grand Canal, near its junction with the
lagoon, or bay, in which Venice lies. Tall palaces, with their
fronts beautifully ornamented, now stand upon our left, and on
the opposite bank is a great domed church with beautiful carvings
and sculptures, which seems to rise, balloon-like, out of the water.
In the open lagoon is a large island with a tall church-spire. Far
away are other islands, purple in the distance ; vessels sail about
with brightly colored sails, often red or orange ; gondolas shoot
here, there, and everywhere ; and a little farther down, large ships
and steamers lie at anchor. Our gondolas skim around with a
sweep, and stop at the steps of the hotel, which come down into
the water.
There are few things about Venice that will be more directly
interesting to us than the gondolas, which constitute a peculiar and
delightful feature of the city. * If ordinary rowboats were substi
tuted for gondolas, Venice would lose one of its greatest charms.

108 . PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
These boats, which are truly Venetian, and are used nowhere else
but here, are very long, narrow, and light. The passengers, of
whom there are seldom more than four, sit on softly cushioned
seats in the middle of the boat, and the portion occupied by them
is generally covered in cold or rainy weather by a little cabin, some
thing like a carriage-top, with windows at the sides and a door in
front. In hot weather, when the sun shines, this cabin-top is taken
off, and its place supplied by a light awning. Very often; however,
neither is needed, and at such times the gondola is most enjoyable.
At the bow of every gondola rises a high steel affair, brightly pol
ished, which looks like an old-fashioned halberd or sword-axe ; these
are placed here principally because it has always been the fashion
to have them, and they are also useful in going under bridges : if
the ferro, as this handsome steel prow is called, can go under a
bridge without touching, the rest of the gondola will do so also.
There is but one color for a gondola, and that is black ; this, espe
cially when the black cabin is on, gives it a very sombre appear
ance. Many people, indeed, liken them to floating hearses, with
their black cords, tassels, and cushions. But when their white or
bright-colored awnings are up, or when they have neither canopy
nor awning, their appearance is quite cheerful. There is nothing
funereal, however, about the gondoliers, of whom there is generally
one to each gondola. It is only when the boat is heavily loaded,
or when great speed or style is desired, that there are two of them.
The gondolier stands in the stern, as we have so often seen him in
pictures, and rests his oar on a crotched projection at the side of
the boat ; he leans forward, throwing his weight upon his oar, and
thus sends his light craft skimming over the water. As. he sways
forward and back, sometimes apparently on one foot only, it seems
as if he were in danger of tumbling off the narrow end of the boat ;
but he never does. Trust him for that. The dexterity with which

AV FLORENCE AND VENICE.

109

he steers his craft, always with his oar on one side, is astonishing.
He shoots around corners, giving, as he does so, a very peculiar
shout to tell other gondoliers that he is coming ; in narrow places
he glides by the other boats, or close up to houses, without ever
touching anything ; and when he
has a straight course, he pushes
on and on, and never seems to be

\

i*&*>

11

rf.

#",

l i is

tired. Gondoliers in the ser
vice of private families, and
some of those whose boats are for hire, dress in very pretty
costumes of white or light-colored sailor clothes, with a broad
collar and a red or blue sash ; these, with a straw hat and long
floating ribbons, give the gondolier a very gay appearance, which
counterbalances in a measure the sombreness of his boat.
HO PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
The reason that the gondolas are always black is this : in the
early days of Venice the rich people were very extravagant, and
each one of them tried to look finer than any one else ; among
their other rivalries, they decked out their gondolas in a very gor
geous fashion. In order to check this absurd display, there was a
law passed in the fifteenth century decreeing that every gondola,
no matter whether it belonged to a rich man or a poor one, should
be entirely black ; and since that time every gondola has been
black.. I have said a great deal in regard to gondolas, because they are
very important to us, and we shall spend much of our time in them.
One of the best things about them is that they are very cheap :
the fare for two persons is twenty cents for the first hour, and ten
cents for each succeeding hour. If we give the gondolier a little
extra change at the end of a long row, he will be very orateful.
One of our first excursions will be a trip along the whole length
of the Grand Canal. As we start from the lower end, we soon
pass on our right the small but beautiful palace of Cantarini-Fasan,
which is said to have been the palace in which Shakespeare chose to
lay the scene of Othello's courtship of Desdemona. The palaces
which we now see rising up on each side were almost all built in
the Middle Ages, and many of them look old and a little shabby,
but among them are some very beautiful and peculiar specimens
of architecture, their fronts being covered with artistic and grace
ful ornamentation ; many of the windows, or rather clusters of win
dows, are very picturesque ; and the effect of these long rows of
grand old palaces, with their pillars, their carvings, and the varied
colors of their fronts, is much more pleasing to us than- if they
were all fresh and new. One of these, the Ca d'Oro, or House of
Gold, is particularly elegant ; and some of the larger ones, such as
the Palazzo Foscari, are grand specimens of architecture. These

AV FLORENCE AND VENICE. 1 1 1

palaces are directly at the water's edge, and at a couple of yards'
distance from their doorways is a row of gayly painted posts,
driven into the bottom of the canal. They are intended to pro
tect the gondolas lying at the broad stone steps from being run
into by passing craft. The posts in front of each house are of
different color and design, and add very much to the gayety of the
scene. Before long we come to quite a large bridge, which is one of
the three that cross the Grand Canal. We must stop here and land,
for this is a bridge of which we all have heard, and we shall wish
to walk upon it and see what it looks like. It is the Rialto, where
"many a time and oft" old Shylock in the " Merchant of Venice"
had a disagreeable time of it. It is a queer bridge, high in the
middle, with a good many steps at either end. On each side is a
row of shops or covered stalls, where fruit, crockery, and small
articles are sold. This is a very busy quarter of the city ; on one
side of the canal is the fish market, and on the other the fruit and
vegetable market. The canal here, and indeed for its whole length,
is full of life : large craft move slowly along, the men on board gen
erally pushing them with long poles ; now and then a little passen
ger steamboat, not altogether suited to a city of the Middle Ages,
but very quiet and unobtrusive, hurries by, crowded with people ;
and look where we may, we see a man standing on the thin end of
a long black boat, pushing upon an oar, and shouting to another
man engaged in the same pursuit.
Passing under a long modern bridge built of iron, we go on until
we reach the railway bridge where we came in, and go out upon
the broad lagoon, where we look over toward the mainland and see
the long line of the beautiful Tyrolese Alps. We return through
a number of the smaller canals, the water of which, unfortunately,
is not always very clean ; but we shall not mind that, for we see so
much that is novel and curious to us. In some places, there is a

I I 2 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

street on one side of the canal, with shops, but this is not common ;
generally we pass close to the foundations of the tall houses, and
when there is an open space we can almost always see a church
standing back in it. We continually pass under little bridges ; at
one corner we shall see as many as five, close together. These
connect small streets and squares, and there are always people on
them. If the day is warm we shall see plenty of Venetian boys
• swimming in the canals, wearing nothing but a pair of light trousers,
and they care so little for our approach that we are afraid our gon
dolas will run over some of them. The urchins are very quick and
• active, however, and we might as well try to touch a fish as one of
them. I once saw a Venetian girl about sixteen years old, who was
sitting upon the steps of a house, teaching her young brother to
swim. The little fellow was very small, and she had tied a cord
around his waist, one end of which she held in her hand. She
would let the child get into the water and paddle away as well as
he could. When he seemed tired, or when he had gone far enough,
she pulled him in. She looked very much as if she were fishing,
with a small boy for bait.
We come out into the open water at that part of Venice which
lies below the end of the Grand Canal ; but just before we do so
we pass between the tall walls of a great palace on the right, and
a dark, gloomy building on the left. High above our heads the
second stories of these buildings are connected by a covered bridge,
which many of us will easily recognize as the Bridge of Sighs,
of which we have read so often and seen so many pictures.
The palace is the Palace of the Doges, in which state prisoners
used to be tried; and the gloomy building is the prison, into
which the «condemned came across the Bridge of Sighs, often
taking their last view of the world through the little windows in
its sides.

AV FLORENCE AND VENICE.

"3

As we pass out into the broad waters of the harbor, we turn
to the right and have a fine view of the water-front of the Doges'
Palace, which is a very handsome and very peculiar building, orna
mented somewhat in the Moorish style. The lower part of the
front has a yellowish tinge,
shaded off into light pink
toward the top. We next
pass a wide open space, reach
ing far back beyond the
palace, and at the foot of
this are long rows of steps,
where great numbers of gon
dolas are lying crowded to
gether, waiting to be hired.
Near by are two columns, one
surmounted by the winged
lion of St. Mark, the patron
saint of Venice, and the
other by a rather curious
group representing a saint
killing- a crocodile. At the
other end of this open space,
which is called the Piazzetta,
we see, rising high above
everything else in Venice,
the tall and beautiful bell-tower. This is in the Piazza San Marco,
the great central point of the city ; and the next thing we shall
do is to come here on foot and see what is to be seen.
When we start upon this walk, we leave our hotel 'by the back
door, and, after twisting about through narrow passages, we soon
find ourselves in a quite wide and pretty street, filled with shops

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

114 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

and people. The pavement is very smooth and clean, being one
wide foot-walk, and we can straggle about as we please, without
any fear of being run over. I do not believe the Venetians indulge
in wheeled vehicles, even to the extent of a wheelbarrow. Cross
ing a bridge and going through a vaulted passage, we enter the
great piazza. This is paved with broad flagstones; and around
three sides of it are shops, the best in Venice, where one can buy
almost anything a reasonable traveller could desire. There are also
a good many cafes, or restaurants, here, and in front of them, out
in the piazza, are hundreds of little chairs and tables, at which
people sit and drink coffee. This is a very busy and lively place,
and on several evenings in the week a military band plays here,
while the people promenade up and down, or sit and listen to it.
To the right, near the end opposite to which we enter, is the bell-
tower which we have seen ; to the left is a tower with a great clock
in the face of it, on the top of which are two life-size iron figures,
which strike the hours with hammers they hold in their hands. In
front of us, stretching across the whole width of the piazza, is the
Church of St. Mark, which, at a little distance, looks more like a
painted picture than an actual building. The Venetians are very
fond of color, and have shown this by the way they have decorated
their cathedral; the whole front seems a'mass of frescos, mosaics,
windows, and ornaments. Some of the mosaics are very large and
artistic, and are bright with red, purple, and gold. In front of
the cathedral are three very tall flagstaffs, painted a bright red,
which have been standing here over three hundred years. When
we enter the cathedral, we shall find that it is different from any
church that we have yet seen. It is decorated in the most mag
nificent and lavish style, somewhat in the gorgeous fashion of the
East. The floor is covered with mosaic work, and the ceilings,
walls, columns, and altars are richly adorned with gold and bronze

AV FLORENCE AND VENICE.

H5

and many-colored marbles, and some of this ornamental work is
six or seven hundred years old.
On every side we find unexpected
and picturesque galleries, recesses
with altars, stairways, and columns,
and out-of-the-way corners lighted
through the stained glass of manyT
colored windows. There are, in all,
about five hundred columns in and
about this church.
In front, over the principal
entrance, we see the four famous
bronze horses of St. Mark's ; and
if the Venetian children, or even
grown people, do not know what a
horse is like, all they have to do is
to look up at these high-mettled '. •

ST. MARK'S AND THE CAMPANILE.

n6

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

coursers, which, although rather stiff of limb, have been great trav
ellers, having seen Rome and Constantinople, and even visited Paris.
As we come out again into

the piazza, we shall be greatly
tempted to stay here, for it is a
lively place. We certainly must
stop long enough to allow some
of our younger companions to
feed the pigeons of St. Mark,
which, if they see any of us with --^
the little paper cornucopias filled
with corn, which are sold
here to visitors, will come
to us by the hundreds, ^S^

FEEDING THE PIGEONS IN THE SQUARE OF ST. MARK'S.

IN FLORENCE AND VENICE. 117

settling on our heads and shoulders, and crowding about us like a
flock of chickens. For more than six hundred years pigeons have
been cared for and fed here by the people of Venice ; and as these
which we see are the direct descendants of the pigeons of the
thirteenth century, they belong to very old families indeed.
To the right of the cathedral is the Doges' Palace, and this
we shall now visit. We pass under a beautiful double colonnade
into a large interior court, where, at about four o'clock in the
afternoon, we may see numbers of Venetian girls and women
coming to get water from a celebrated well or cistern here. Each
girl has two bright copper pails, in which she carries the water,
and we shall find it amusing to watch them for a few minutes.
There are two finely sculptured bronze cisterns in the yard, but
these are not used now. We then go up a grand staircase, and
ascend still higher by a stairway called the Scala d'Oro, once
used only by the nobles of Venice. We now wander through the
great halls and rooms where the doges once held their courts and
councils. Enormous pictures decorate the walls. One of them,
by Tintoretto, is said to be the largest oil-painting in the world.
We shall take a look into the dreadful dungeons of which we
read so much in Venetian history, and we shall cross the Bridge of
Sighs, although we cannot enter the prison on the other side ; the
doors there are closed and locked, the building still being used as a
prison. Ever so much more shall we do in Venice. We shall go
in gondolas, and see the old dock-yards where the ships of the
Crusaders were fitted out ; we shall visit the Academy of Fine
Arts, where we may study some of the finest works of that most
celebrated of all Venetians, the painter Titian ; we shall take a
steamboat to the Lido, an island out at sea where the citizens go
to bathe and to breathe the sea air ; we shall go out upon the

Il8 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
broad Giudecca, a wide channel between Venice and one of its
suburbs ; we shall explore churches and palaces ; and, above all, we
shall float by daylight and by moonlight, if there happens to be a
moon, over the canals, under the bridges, and between the tall and
picturesque walls and palaces, which make Venice the strange
and delightful city that she is.

VII.
A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE.
THE mountain to which we are now going is in Switzerland —
that country which contains more celebrated mountains, more
beautiful mountains, more accessible mountains, and, I may
add, more useful mountains, than any other country in the world.
There is no part of Switzerland where mountains are not to be
seen ; and to travel in that country it is generally necessary to cross
the mountains, to go around their sides, or to go through them.
Switzerland, indeed, may be said to be a great deal larger than
would be supposed, from the very limited extent of its boundary
lines, because so much of the surface is piled up into the air, in
the shape of mountains. If it were flattened out, it would overrun
great parts of the surrounding countries.
These vast eminences, which lie in chains and groups all over
the country, are called Alps, and they are divided into three classes
— the High Alps, the Middle Alps, and the Lower Alps. The first
of these divisions consists of those mountains the tops of which
rise above the snow line, which is about eight thousand feet above
the sea. The portions of a mountain which are higher than this
imaginary line are covered with snow which never melts, even in
summer. The Middle Alps are those which raise themselves above
the height at which all trees cease to grow, or four thousand five
hundred feet above the sea. The Lower Alps are more than two
thousand feet high, but do not rise to the altitude of the last
division.

120 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
The word alp means a mountain pasture, and many of the lower
mountains, as well as .great portions of the sides of the higher
ones, are covered with rich grass, on which, during the summer
time, great numbers of cattle graze. In queer little chalets, or
Swiss huts, which look as if they were nearly all roof, scattered
here and there upon the grassy sides of the mountains, live the
people, who attend to the cattle, and make butter and cheese.
Nothing can be more picturesque than some of these Alpine
pastures, with their great slopes of rich green, dotted here and
there with dark-red chalets. The cattle wander about over the
grass, and sometimes, on the rocks, we see a girl blowing a horn
to call together her flock of goats. Beautiful flowers of various
colors spring up on every side, the air is warm and pleasant, and
everything gives the idea of a lovely summer scene ; while just
above, in the hollow of a ravine, to which we could walk in ten
minutes, lies a great mass of white and glittering snow, which
never melts.
Almost all persons who travel in Switzerland have a great desire
to go to the top of at least one of the towering peaks they see
about them, and mountain ascensions are very common and pop
ular. Some go up one kind of mountain, and some another; and
the kind is generally determined by their spirit of enterprise, their
general health, and the strength of their legs. There is such a
choice of mountains in Switzerland, and such a variety of ways of
going to the top of them, that there are few persons who cannot
make an ascension, if they desire it.
The highest of all the mountains in Europe* is Mont Blanc,
which towers fifteen thousand seven hundred and thirty-one feet
into the air. Although this great mountain is not in Switzerland,
but in Savoy, it is very near the Swiss boundary line, and is plainly
visible from Geneva. It is considered one of the principal sights

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 121

of that charming little city, and many travellers never see it from
any other point. Although many people ascend Mont Blanc every
year, the undertaking requires a great degree of muscular as well
as nervous strength. The top of Mont Blanc cannot be reached
in less than two days, and fine weather is absolutely necessary, for
in storms or fogs the climbers would be apt to lose their way, and
this would be very dangerous. Some years ago a party of eleven
persons lost their lives on Mont Blanc in consequence of being
overtaken by a storm. The first day the traveller ascends about
ten thousand feet, to a place called the Grands Mulets. Here, in
a little stone hut, he passes the night, or rather part of it, for he is
obliged to start again in the very small hours of the next morning.
When the top is reached, and one stands on the highest peak of
that vast mass of eternal snow, he has the proud satisfaction of
being there; but he does not find that the highest point in Switzer
land gives him the grandest view. The surrounding mountains
and landscape are at so great a distance that sometimes they are
not seen at all, and it is only in a very clear atmosphere that you
get an idea of the mountain chains which lie about Mont Blanc.
The ascent is, also, not a cheap pleasure. No person is allowed
to go up with less than two guides, and each of these must be paid
a hundred francs, or twenty dollars. Then a porter is required to
carry provisions and extra clothing, and he must be paid fifty
francs. At the little hut, at Grands Mulets, the climber is charged
more for his accommodation than he would have to pay at a first-
class New York hotel ; and if he thinks to economize by making a-
supper and breakfast out of the provisions he has brought with
him, he is charged five dollars for his bed. It is of no use to try
to get the better of a person who keeps a hut hotel ten thousand
feet in the air, where there is no opposition. If one does not like
the terms, he may sleep in the snow. When a party goes up, the

122 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
expenses of each member are somewhat lessened ; but the trip is,
in any case, a costly one. For this reason, and on account of the
hardships and dangers incurred in climbing its vast and snowy
steeps, the majority of tourists are content to gaze upon the tower
ing heights of Mont Blanc without attempting to ascend them.
The more dangerous peaks of Switzerland, such as the Matter-
horn, are only ascended by skilful and practised mountain-climb
ers, and even these often meet with disaster. On the first ascent
of the Matterhorn, four persons lost their lives by falling the dread
ful distance of four thousand feet ; and not far from this mountain
is a little cemetery containing the graves of travellers who have
perished in climbing this and neighboring heights. But there are
mountains in Switzerland the summits of which can be reached
by persons capable of sustaining ordinary fatigue, and they are
ascended every summer by hundreds of travellers, many of whom
are ladies. The latter sometimes prove themselves very steady and
enduring climbers, and in Switzerland it very often happens that
when a boy starts out on an excursion he cannot tell his sister that
she must stay at home that day, because he is going to climb a
mountain. Give a girl an alpenstock — a long stick with a spike in
the end — a pair of heavy boots with rough nails in the soles, and
if she be in good health, and accustomed to exercise, she can climb
very high up in the world on a Swiss mountain.
But, although a fine view may be obtained from a mountain six,
eight, or ten thousand feet high, and although the ascent may not
be really dangerous, it is of no use to assert that it is an easy thing
to go up such mountains ; and there are few of them on which
there are not some places, necessary to pass, where a slip would
make it extremely unpleasant for the person slipping. There. are
a great many travellers, not used to climbing, or not able to do so,
whose nerves are not in that perfect order which would enable

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 123

them to stand on the edge of even a moderately high precipice
without feeling giddy ; and yet these people would like very much
to have a view from a mountain-top, and they naturally feel inter
ested when they find that there is in Switzerland a mountain, and
a high one, too, from which a magnificent view may be obtained,
that can be ascended without any fatigue or any danger.
To this mountain we are now going. It is called the Rigi, and
it is situated on the northern bank of the Lake of Lucerne, or, as
the Swiss call it, " The Lake of the Four Forest Cantons ; " and
there is, probably, no lake in the world more beautiful, or sur
rounded by grander scenery. It is also full of interest historically,
for its shores were the scenes of the first efforts for Swiss inde
pendence. On one of its arms, the Lake of Uri, we are shown the
place where William Tell sprang on the rocks when escaping from
the boat of the tyrant Gessler ; and in the little village of Altorf,
not far away, he shot the apple from his son's head.
At the edge of the lake, at the very foot of the Rigi, is the
small town of Vitznau, and it is to this place that the people
who wish to ascend the mountain betake themselves, by steam
boat. On the other side of the mountain there is another small
town, called Arth, where tourists coming from the north begin
their ascent; but we shall go up from Lake Lucerne, and start
from Vitznau. Arrived at this town, we find ourselves at the
foot of a towering mountain, which stretches for miles to the east
and west, so that it is more like a short mountainous chain than a
single eminence. Its loftiest peak is five thousand nine hundred
and six feet — about the height of our own Mount Washington, in
the White Mountains.
In preparing to climb the Rigi, it is not necessary for us
to adopt the costume usually worn by mountain climbers in
Switzerland, which, in the case of men and boys, consists of a

124 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
very short coat, knickerbocker trousers buttoned at the knee, heavy
woollen stockings, stout laced boots with the soles covered with
projecting nails, a little knapsack on the back, and a long alpen
stock in the hand We need not carry any provisions, but it is
necessary to take some extra wraps with us, for at the top it is
often very cold ; but although the mountain is very high, and its
top rises above the limit of the growth of trees, it does not reach
to the line of eternal snow.
There are no icy slopes up which we must scramble ; there are
no crevasses, reaching down hundreds of feet into the heart of the
mountain, over which we must slowly creep by means of a plank or
ladder ; there are no narrow footpaths, with a towering wall of rock
on one side and a terrible precipice yawning on the other ; there
are no wide and glistening snow-fields, on which, if one of us slips
and falls, he may slide away so swiftly and so far that he may never
be seen again ; there are no vast fissures covered with newly-fallen
snow, on which, if a person carelessly treads, he disappears forever.
There is also no necessity of our walking in a line with a long
rope tied from one to the other, so that if one of us slips the others
may hold back and keep him from falling or sliding very far. None
of these dangers, which are to be encountered by those who ascend
the higher Alps and many of the lower Swiss mountains, are "to
be met with here; and the precautions which those persons must
not fail to take are not required on the Rigi. All that is necessarv
when we are ready to make the ascent is to buy our tickets and
take our seats in a wide and comfortable railway car. There is a
funny little locomotive at one end of this car, and there is a line
of rails which leads by various curves and windings and steep
ascents up to the top of the mountain. The locomotive will do
the climbing, and all we have to do is to sit still, and look about,
and see what there is to be seen.

SCENES ON THE RIGI RAILWAY.

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 127

This railway and the little locomotive are very different from
those in ordinary use on level ground. The rails are about the
usual distance apart, but between them are two other very strong
rails, lying near to each other, and connected by a series of stout
iron bars, like teeth. Under the locomotive is a cogwheel which
fits into these teeth, and as it is turned around by the engine it
forces the locomotive up the steep incline. There is but one car
to each train, and this is always placed above the engine, so that
it is pushed along when it is going up, and held back when it is
coming down. The car is not attached to the locomotive ; so that,
if anything happens to the latter, the car can be instantly stopped
by means of a brake which acts on the teeth between the rails,
and the locomotive can go on down by itself. There is no power
required in going down, and all the engine has to do is to hold
back sturdily, and keep the car from coming down too fast. This
may be the reason, perhaps, why persons are charged only half
as much for coming down as they are charged for going up.
The locomotive does not stand up straight in the ordinary way,
but leans backward, and when on level ground it looks very much
as if it had broken down at one end ; but when it is on the steep
inclines of the mountain, its depressed end, which always goes
first, is then as high as the other, and the smoke-stack stands up
perpendicularly. The seats in the cars, too, slope so that the pas
sengers will not slip off them when one end of the car is tilted up.
The ascents of the road are often quite surprising, and one won
ders how the locomotive is ever going to get the car, containing
forty or fifty people, up those steep inclines. But up it always
goes, steadily and resolutely, for the little engine has the power
of one hundred and twenty horses.
The whole road is about four and a half miles long, and
although the locomotive is so strong, it only goes at the rate of

128 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
three miles an hour, so that an active person walking by its side
might keep up with it for a time, though he would be likely to be
very tired before he had gone far.
As we slowly ascend the Rigi, in this comfortable way, we find
that we are taking one of the most interesting and novel excursions
of our lives. If the weather be fine, there breaks upon the eye, as
we rise higher and higher, a succession of those views of moun
tain, lake, and forest, which only can be had from an elevated posi
tion ; and as one of these views suddenly appears, and then is cut
off by a turn in the road, to be presently succeeded by another.'we
have a foretaste of what we are going to enjoy when we arrive at
the top. The scenery immediately about the railway is also very
interesting, and some of the incidents of the trip are not only
novel, but startling. Sometimes the little train traverses regions
of wild forest and rocks ; sometimes it winds along the edge of
savage precipices ; now it passes into a dark and dreary tunnel,
from which it emerges to take an airy flight over a long and nar
row bridge, which we in the car cannot see beneath us, and where
we look far down upon the tree-tops we are passing over. Through
wild and desolate scenes, by forests, rocks, and waterfalls, we pass,
the little locomotive always puffing and pushing vigorously behind
us, until we reach a level plateau, on which stands a large and
handsome hotel, with numerous outbuildings. This is called the
Rigi Kaltbad, and the situation is a very beautiful one. Many
people come here to spend days, and even weeks, enjoying the
mountain walks and the grand scenery.
But, after a short stop at the station here, our train passes
on, and before long we reach another plateau, much higher up,
which is called Rigi Staffel, where there is another large hotel.
Then, on we go, up a steep ledge, on the edge of a cliff which it
seems impossible that any train could ascend, until we reach the

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 129

Rigi Kulm, the highest part of the mountain. When we alight
from the train, we see a large and handsome hotel, with several
smaller buildings surrounding it, but we find we are not on the
very loftiest peak of the Kulm. To this point we must walk, but
there are broad and easy paths leading to it, and the ascent is not
very great, and does not require many minutes.
When we walk past the hotel, and the uppermost part of the
Kulm comes into view, the first thing that catches our attention is
a long line of wide-spread white umbrellas. As we rise higher, we
see that these umbrellas are not held by anybody, but each one
is fastened over a small stand, containing articles of carved wood
or ivory, boxes, bears, birds, spoons, forks, and all those useful
and ornamental little things which the Swiss make so well and
are so anxious to sell. There are so many of these booths and
stands, with the women and men attending to them, that it seems
as if a little fair, or bazaar, is being held on the top of the moun
tain. We shall doubtless be surprised that the first thing that attracts
our attention at this famous place should be preparations to make
money out of us ; but everywhere through Switzerland the traveller
finds people who wish to sell him something, or who continually
volunteer to do something for which they wish him to pay. As he
drives along the country roads, little girls throw bunches of wild
flowers into his carriage, and then run by its side expecting some
money in return. By the roadside, in the most lonely places, he
will find women and girls sitting behind little tables on which they
are making lace, which, with a collection of tiny Swiss chalets, and
articles of carved wood, they are very eager to sell. When the
road passes near a precipitous mountain-side, he will find a man
with a long Alpine horn, who awakens the echoes and expects
some pennies. At another place a fenced pathway leads into a
9

130 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
little wood, and a notice informs him that he may enter and get
a view of the Black Falls for four cents.
When I was at Grindelwald, a little village among the Higher
Alps, I went part way up a mountain to visit a glacier. These
masses of ice, which lie in the ravines of the mountains, are often
of great depth, extending downward for hundreds of feet, and are
formed by the melting of the snow in the lower part of the snow-
fields above. The water trickles down when the sun shines on it,
and is frozen at night ; and thus, in the course of centuries, a vast
and solid mass of ice is formed which is sometimes fifteen hundred
feet thick. In the glacier which I visited, a long tunnel had been
cut, through which a person could comfortably walk, and this led
to a fairly large room hewn in the very heart of the glacier, and
called the Ice Grotto. There were lamps placed here and there,
by which this frigid passage was dimly lighted, and the sensation
of finding one's self in the middle of a vast block of ice was truly
novel. The walls and roof of the tunnel were transparent for a
considerable distance, and I could look into the very substance of
the clear blue ice around me. I followed the man who acted as
my guide to the end of the tunnel, and then we mounted a few
steps into the grotto, which was lighted by a single lamp. The
moment I set foot inside this wonderful chamber, with walls, roof,
and floor of purest ice, I heard a queer tinkling and thumping in
one corner, and looking there, I saw two old women, each playing
on a doleful little zither. They looked like two horrible old
witches of the ice. Of course I knew that they were playing for
my benefit ; and I wondered if they always sat there in that enor
mous refrigerator, waiting for the visitors who might enter and
give them a few centimes in return for their mournful strumming.
But when I went out, I found that the old women soon followed,
and I suppose they go into the glacier and ensconce themselves in

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 13 1

their freezing retreat whenever they see a tourist coming up the
mountain-side. And now, having recovered from our slight surprise at seeing
the signs of traffic on the very top of the mountain, we pass the
booths and advance to a wooden railing, which is built on the
northern edge of the Kulm. The first thing that strikes our eyes
is a vast plain, lying far below us, which, to some people, seems at
first like an immense marsh, partly green and partly covered with
dark patches, and with pools of water here and there. But when
the eye becomes accustomed to this extent of view, we see that
those dark patches are great forests ; that those pools are lakes, on
the shores of which towns and cities are built ; and this plain before
us is the whole of North Switzerland.
As we turn and look about us, we see a panorama of three
hundred miles in circuit. To the south lies a mighty and glorious
range of snow-clad Alps, one hundred and twenty miles in length.
We see the white peaks glittering in the sun, the darker glaciers
in the ravines, the wide snow^fields, clear and distinct. Between
us and these giants are lower mountains, some green and wooded,
some bold and rocky. Towns, villages, and chalets are dotted
everywhere in the valleys and on the plains.
The view is one of the grandest and most beautiful in Europe.
The north side of the Rigi is almost precipitous, and as we
again lean over the railing and look down its dizzy slopes, we see
lying at our very feet the whole Lake of Zug. Three large towns
are upon its banks, and a number of villages. A steamboat, appar
ently about the size of a spool of thread, is making its way across
the lake. To the left, a great part of the Lake of Lucerne is visible,
with the city of Lucerne at one end of it, its pinnacles, towers, and
walls plainly in view. Away to the north, we see a portion of the
city of Zurich, although the greater part of it is hidden by an inter-

1.32

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

vening hill. On the northern horizon lies the famous Black For
est, and the long line of the Jura Mountains is visible to the west.
Looking here and there, we can count, in all, thirteen lakes.
The top of the Kulm is rounded and grassy, and we can walk
about and look at the wonderful views from various points. At
one place there is a high wooden platform, to which we ascend by

THE RIGI. — SHOWING RAILWAY TO THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN.

steps, at the side of which hangs a little box with a hole in the top,
with an inscription in three languages asking us not to forget to
remember the owner of this belvedere. From this platform, which
is provided with a railing and benches, we can get a clear view in
every direction ; and stuck about, in little sockets, are small colored
glasses, through which we may look at the landscape. When we
hold a yellow one before our eyes, mountains and plains seem

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 1 33

glowing beneath a golden sky ; a red one gives us an idea that the
whole world is on fire ; while through a blue one everything looks
cold, dreary, and cheerless.
But we quickly put down the glasses. We want no such things
as these to help us enjoy those glorious scenes.
While we stand and gaze from the wide-spread plain to the
stupendous mountain ranges, the sun begins to set ; and as it
sinks below the horizon, the white peaks and snowy masses of the
long line of Alps are gradually tinged with that beautiful rosy tint
which is called the after-glow. Never were mountains more beau
tiful than these now appear, and we remain and look upon them
until they fade away into the cold, desolate, and awful regions that
they are.
The view of the sunrise from the Kulm is one of the great
sights enjoyed by visitors, and many persons come to the Rigi on
purpose to witness it. On fine mornings, hundreds of tourists may
be seen gathered together at daybreak on the top of the Kulm. It is
generally very cold at this hour, and they are wrapped in overcoats,
shawls, and even blankets taken from the beds, although there are
notices in each of the hotel rooms that this is forbidden. But all
shivering and shaking is forgotten when, one after another, the
highest snow-peaks are lighted up by the sun, which has not yet
appeared to view, and when, gradually and beautifully, the whole
vast landscape is flooded with the glory of the day.
But the people who go up on the Rigi to make a stay at the
hotels do not content themselves with gazing at the grand pano
rama to be seen from the Kulm. The life and the scenes on the
mountain itself are full of interest. Its promontories, slopes, and
valleys are covered with rich grass, over which it is delightful to
ramble and climb. Below the Rigi Staffel is a beautiful green
hollow, called the valley of Klosterli ; handsome cattle, with their

134 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
tinkling bells, ramble over its rich pastures ; and the brown cottages
of the herdsmen are seen here and there. There is a Capuchin
monastery and chapel in this valley, which was built nearly two
hundred years ago, where the Sunday congregation is composed
of the herdsmen on the mountain. A branch railroad, about four
miles long, runs on a ridge of the mountain to a promontory
called the Scheideck, from which an admirable prospect may be
had, and where there is a hotel ; and from the Kaltbad, which was
mentioned before, there is a pleasant rural walk toward the other
end of the Rigi range, to a place called the Kanzli, from which the
most charming views, near and distant, may be had.
Never was there a mountain so well adapted to boys and girls
as the Rigi. Once arrived upon the upper parts of this mountain,
which stretches far and wide, there is found every inducement for
scramble, walk, and climb, in places which are not at all dangerous.
The Rothstock, the Kulm, and other grassy peaks can be ascended ;
long tramps can be taken through the valleys ; the herdsmen's cot
tages and the monastery can be visited — and all this in a mountain
air which gives one strength, spirit, and appetite.
The young folk, as well as grown people, are to be seen
rambling everywhere. One day, as I was walking toward a place
from which there was a good view, I heard a step behind me, and
directly I was passed by a regular mountain climber. He was a
tall young man, with a mighty stride. He wore a flannel shirt,
with no coat or vest, but these hung at his back from a strap
around his waist. On his powerful legs were knickerbockers and
a pair of long red stockings, and in his hand he held a long-pointed
alpenstock. Up the mountain straight toward the highest point of
the Kulm, he went, steadily and swiftly as a two-legged engine. He
was such a man as we would probably meet on the snowy peaks
of the Higher Alps, if we should happen to be wandering there.

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 135

Shortly after this young athlete had passed, I saw, coming
down the mountain, a lady and her little boy. The youngster,
about six years old, who marched behind his mother, was equipped
in true mountaineer style. His little coat hung at his little back ;
on his little legs he wore knickerbockers and long stockings, and
on his feet a pair of little hobnailed shoes ; in his hand he carried
a little alpenstock. His mother was a good walker, but she did
not leave her boy behind. With strides as long as his little legs
could make, he followed her bravely down the hill, punching his
sharp stick into the ground at every step, as if he wished to make
the mountain feel that he was there. He was just as full of the
spirit of the Alpine climber, and enjoyed his tramp quite as much,
as the practised mountaineer who was striding away toward the
Kulm. Girls there were, too, whole parties of them, each with an alpen
stock in her hand, on every grassy knoll, on every path through
the valleys or along the ridges. In ordinary life it is not custom
ary for girls and ladies to carry sticks or canes, but some of these
become so fond of their long alpenstocks that I have seen girls
with these iron-pointed sticks in their hands, walking about the
cities of Switzerland, where they were of no more use than a
third shoe.
It is not only in fine weather that life on this mountain is to be
enjoyed. The approach of a storm is a grand sight ; great clouds
gathering on the crests of the higher peaks of the mountain chains,
and sweeping down in battle array upon hills, valleys, and plains.
Even in the rain, the views have a strange and varied appearance
which is very attractive ; and every change in the weather produces
changes in the landscape, sometimes quite novel and unexpected,
and almost always grand or beautiful.
There is only one kind of weather in which the Rigi is not

136 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
attractive. On my third day on the mountain, I was sitting in the
dining-room of the hotel, taking my midday meal, with about a
hundred other guests, when I heard a loud groan from one of the
tables ; then there was another and another ; and, directly, a chorus
of groans arose from every part of the long dining-room. Look
ing about to see what was the matter, I noticed that everybody
was staring out of the windows. When I looked out I saw a sight
that was worth seeing, and one that was enough to make anybody
groan who knew what it meant. A great cloud was coming down
out of the sky directly upon the Rigi. It was heavy and gray, and
its form was plainly defined in the clear air around it. When it
had spread itself above us, almost touching the roof of the house,
we could see, below its far-reaching edges, the distant landscape
still sparkling in the sunlight. Then it came down, and blotted us
out from the view of all the world. To the people below, the top
of the Rigi was covered with a cloud, and to us there was nothing
to be seen twenty feet from the window. Now there were no
views, there were no walks, there was no sitting out-of-doors, there
was nothing that one came to the Rigi for. No wonder that the
people groaned. All their plans for outdoor pleasure had been
brought to a sudden end by this swiftly descending cloud, which
those who were wise in such matters believed would not soon dis
appear. It was evidently the beginning of bad weather, and those
who remained on the mountain tops must live in the clouds for
several days. When nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to
be done, it was a good time to leave the Rigi ; and so, in company
with a great many other visitors — for it was near the end of the
season, and people could not wait for better weather as they could
have done a few weeks earlier — I took leave of the mountain, know
ing very well that the little locomotive could find its way down,
cloud or no cloud.

A MOUNTAIN TOP, AND HOW WE GET THERE. 1 37

We may not have such an experience as this, but we shall leave
the Rigi, carrying with us recollections, which no rain could ever
wash away, of that interesting mountain, with its beautiful green
slopes and peaks, its magnificent panoramas, its pleasant summer
life, its picturesque glades, and herds, and — its railway to the top.

VIII.

QUEEN PARIS.

WE have already been in Paris, but we saw very little of it,
as we were merely passing through the city on our way
to the south of France ; and my young companions should
not go home without forming an acquaintance with a city which,
on account of its importance and unrivalled attractiveness, may be
called the queen city of the world, just as London, with its wealth,
its size, and its influence, which is felt all over our globe, is the
king of cities. In Rome, and in other cities of Italy, we have seen
what Europe used to be, both in ancient times and in the Middle
Ages ; but there is no one place which will show us so well what
Europe is to-day as Paris.
It is an immense city, being surrounded by ramparts twenty-one
miles long, and is full of broad and handsome streets, magnificent
buildings, grand open spaces with fountains and statues, great pub
lic gardens and parks free to everybody, and (what is more attrac
tive to some people than anything else) it has miles and miles of
stores and shops, which are filled with the most beautiful and inter
esting things that are made or found in any part of the world. All
these articles are arranged and displayed so artistically, that people
buy things in Paris which they would never think of buying any
where else, simply because they had never before noticed how desir
able such things were. But, even if we do not wish to spend any
money, we can still enjoy the rare and beautiful objects for which
Paris is famous ; they are nearly all in the shop windows, and we

QUEEN PARIS. 139

can walk about and admire them for nothing, and as much as we
please. In many respects Paris is as lively as Naples ; as grand as Rome ;
as beautiful, but in a different way, as Venice ; almost as rich in
remains of the Middle Ages as Florence ; and yet, after all, it will
remind you of none of those cities.
Before we visit any particular place in Paris, we shall start out
to explore the city as a whole ; although I do not mean to say that
we shall go over the whole of the city. Those of us who choose
will walk, and that is the best way to see Paris, for we are continu
ally meeting with something thsit we wish to stop and look at ; but
such as do not wish to take so long a walk may ride in the voitures,
or public carriages, which abound in the streets of Paris. In fine
weather, these are convenient little open vehicles, intended to carry
two persons, though more can be sometimes accommodated. They
can be hired for two francs (about forty cents) an hour, with the
addition of a small sum called a pour-boire, to which the driver is
by custom entitled. Nearly everywhere we may see empty voitures,
their drivers looking out for customers. When we want one, we
do not call for it, nor do we stand on the curbstone and whistle, as
if we were stopping a Fifth Avenue stage : if no driver sees us so
that we can beckon to him, we follow th.e Parisian custom, and,
going to the edge of the pavement, give a strong hiss between our
closed teeth. Instantly the nearest cocker, or driver, pulls up his
horse and looks about him to see where that hiss comes from, and
when he sees us, he comes around with a sweep in front of us.
The River Seine runs through Paris, and winds and doubles so
much that there are seven miles of it within the city walls. It is
crossed by twenty-seven bridges, and from one of these', the Pont
de la Concorde, we shall start on our tour through Paris. The
upper part of this bridge is built of stones taken from the Bastile

140

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

prison after its destruction by the enraged people. Thus the Pari
sians can feel, when they cross this bridge, that they are treading
under foot a portion of the building they so greatly abhorred. The

^iftab:^

PONT AND PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.

view up and down the river is very fine, and gives us a good idea
of the city we are about to explore. As we cross to the northern
side of the Seine, on which lies the most important part of Paris
we have directly in front of us the great Place de la Concorde, a

QUEEN PARIS. 741

fine open square, in the centre of which rises an obelisk brought
from Egypt. Here are magnificent fountains, handsome statuary
on tall pedestals, and crowds of vehicles and foot-passengers cross
ing it in every direction, making a picturesque and lively scene.
This was not always as pleasant a place as it is now, for during the
great French Revolution the guillotine stood in this square, and
here were executed two thousand eight hundred persons, among
whom were Queen Marie Antoinette and her husband, Louis
XVI. To the east of this square extends for a long distance the
beautiful garden of the Tuileries, which belonged to the royal
palace of that name, before it was destroyed. This garden is
shaded by long lines of trees, and adorned with fountains and
statues. On its southern side is an elevated walk, or terrace, very
broad and handsome, and about half a mile long. In the reign
of the Emperor Napoleon the Third, this walk was appropriated to
the daily exercise of the Prince Imperial. Here the young fellow
could walk up and down, without being interfered with by the
people below; and underneath was a covered passage in which he
could take long walks in rainy weather.
On the other side of the great square extends a broad and mag
nificent street, a mile and a third in length, called the Avenue des
Champs Elysees. On each side for nearly half a mile this street
is bordered by pleasure-grounds, beautifully laid out and planted
with trees ; and for the rest of the way it runs between two double
rows of trees to the great Arch of Triumph, built by Napoleon
Bonaparte to commemorate his victories. This arch is like those
erected by the Roman emperors, and is covered with inscriptions
and sculptures recording the glorious achievements of the great
Napoleon. When Paris was taken by the Prussians in the war of
1 871, the German army marched into the city through this arch
of triumph, and if they wished to humiliate the French people,

142

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

they could not have thought of a better plan. But the French
people whom we now see here on fine afternoons do not look at
all humiliated : they walk about under the trees ; they sit upon
the thousands of prettily painted iron chairs, which are hired out
at two cents apiece for a whole day ; they drive up and down in

THE AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES.
The Arch of Triumph in the distance.

the finest carriages that money can buy ; and, so far as we can
discover by looking at them, they are as well content, and have
as good an opinion of themselves, as any people in the world. The
pavement of the street and that of the great square is as smooth
as a floor, and kept very neat and clean. This is the case, indeed,
in nearly all the principal streets of Paris, and it is a pleasure to
drive over their smooth and even pavements. But after a rain it

QUEEN PARIS. 143

is not so agreeable to walk across these streets, which are then
covered with a coating of very sticky white mud.
On the northern side of the square is a handsome street of
moderate length, called the Rue Royale. It is filled with fine
shops, and is very animated and lively. At its upper end stands
the beautiful Church of the Madeleine, fashioned like a Grecian
temple. We go up this street, and when we reach the broad space
about the Madeleine, part of which is occupied as a flower market,
with long lines of booths crowded with many varieties of blossoms
and plants, we find ourselves at the beginning of a magnificent line
of streets, which are called the boulevards of Paris. The word
boulevards means ramparts or bulwarks, and this long line of
streets is built where the old ramparts of Paris used to stand.
Of late, however, the word has been applied to many of the other
broad and splendid streets for which Paris is famous. This crowded,
lively, and interesting thoroughfare is over two miles long, and
is, in fact, but one great street, although it is divided into eleven
sections, called the Boulevard de la Madeleine, Boulevard des
Capucines, Boulevard des Italiens, etc. These boulevards do not
extend in a straight line, but make a great sweep to the north, and
come down again to within a short distance of the river.
On each side of this wide line of streets are splendid shops and
stores, cafes, restaurants, and handsome hotels ; and before we have
gone very far we shall see, standing back in an open space, the
Grand Opera House of Paris. It is a magnificent building, both
inside and out ; it is the largest theatre in the world, and covers
three acres of ground.
But although the fine buildings and the dazzling show-windows
full of beautiful objects will continually attract our attention, they
cannot keep our eyes from the wonderful life and activity of the
streets. The broad sidewalks, of course, are crowded with people,

144 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
though no more than we often meet on Broadway, in New York;
but the throng is peculiar, because it is made up of such a variety
of people, who seem to be doing so many different things — ladies
and gentlemen dressed in the latest fashions; working-men in blue
blouses ; working-women, always without any head-covering ; boys
and men with wooden shoes ; gentlemen, and often ladies, sitting
at little tables placed on the sidewalk in front of cafes, drinking
coffee, or taking some other refreshment ; soldier-policemen march
ing up and down, and looking very inoffensive ; and now and then a
priest in long black clothes and a broad felt hat. But yet among
this multitude of people we seldom meet any one who is dashing
along as if he were trying to catch a train or a boat, or to do some
thing else for which he is afraid there is not time enough. Here
and there we see, standing close to the curbstone, a little round
wooden house, prettily ornamented, inside of which a woman sits
selling newspapers, which are displayed at the open window.
These houses are called kiosks, and they take the place of news
paper stands in our country. As far as possible, the French like
to make their useful things ornamental, and these kiosks add very
much to the appearance of the streets.
Occasionally we come to the opening of a covered arcade,
extending a long distance back from the street, and crowded on
both sides with shops, the pavement in the centre being occupied
only by foot-passengers. These arcades are called passages, and
are among the most interesting features of Paris. The shops here
are generally small, but they display their goods in a very enticing
way. Some of the passages contain cafes and restaurants, and one
of them is almost entirely devoted to the sale of toys and presents
for children.In another passage we shall find a very wonderful wax-work
show, which, although it is not so large as the famous exhibition

QUEEN PARIS. 145

of Madame Tussaud in London, is, in many respects, much more
interesting. There are figures here of all kinds, many of cele
brated people ; but, instead of being set up stiffly around a room,
they are arranged in groups in separate compartments, and in
natural positions, as if they were saying or doing something. In
the centre of the room is a studio, in which the artist, who looks
as natural as life, is painting a picture of a girl standing at a little
distance from him, while behind him another girl is peeping over
his shoulder to see how he is getting on ; and she looks so life
like that we can almost expect to hear her say what she thinks
about it. Near by, some ladies and gentlemen are looking over
portfolios of drawings, other visitors are talking together and
examining the pictures on the walls, while a servant is bringing in
wax refreshments which look quite good enough to eat and drink.
This scene will give us an excellent idea of life in the studio of
a French artist. There are all kinds of scenes represented here,
and some, especially in the basement, are of a gloomy and sombre
kind. One of these represents a body of policemen bursting into
a room occupied by a band of counterfeiters engaged in making
false money. The dismay of the counterfeiters, disturbed in their
work, and the desperate fight that has already begun, are very
startling and real, and we almost feel that we ought to move out
of the way.
The roadway of the boulevards is filled with vehicles of every
kind, and among these we particularly notice the great omnibuses,
much larger than any we have, and each drawn by three powerful
horses, generally white. These omnibuses have seats on top as
well as inside, and a very good way to see the city is to take a ride
upon one of those upper seats. The omnibuses are almost always
well filled, but never crowded ; no one being taken on after every
seat is occupied, and a fixed number are standing on the outside

146 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
platform. They stop at regular stations, not very far apart, and
the people who wait here for them are provided with numbered
tickets, which they procure from the agent at the station, so that
when the omnibus comes, as many as can be accommodated take
their seats in regular order, according to the number of their
tickets. In this way, there is no crowding and pushing to get in,
and those who are left behind have the best chance at the next
omnibus. In other parts of the city of Paris, there are street railways,
called here tramways, which are managed very much in the same
manner as the omnibuses. These vehicles are convenient and
cheap, but not very agreeable ; and it is much pleasanter to walk
and pay nothing, or to take a voiture and pay thirty cents for two
people for a drive from any point of the city to another.
And thus we go on along the boulevards, passing the celebrated
gateways, Porte St. Martin and Porte St. Denis, until we come to
the great open space once occupied by the Bastile, in which now
rises a tall, sculptured column surmounted by a figure of Liberty.
Those who have studied and remembered modern French history
will take a great interest in this spot, where so many important
events occurred.
Here end the boulevards. We now turn toward the river, and
soon reach a wide street called the Rue de Rivoli, one side of
which is lined with shops under arcades, which, in some respects,
are more attractive than any we have yet seen. At many of these
photographs are sold, and their windows are crowded with pictures.
All sorts of useful and cheap things are to be found here, and a
walk through this street is like a visit to a museum. On the other
side of the street is the great palace of the Louvre, which extends
for some distance, and after that we come to the garden of the
Tuileries. When we have walked through this magnificent pleas-

QUEEN PARIS. 147

ure-ground, we shall reach the point from which we started on
our tour.
We shall take many other walks and drives through the streets
of Paris, and, wherever we go, we shall find in each an interest of
a different sort. On the southern side of the river is the Latin
Quarter, where there are some celebrated schools and academies,
which, for centuries, have been the resort of students. Here we
shall find narrow streets, crowded footways, and shops full of all
sorts of antiquarian articles, and odds and ends of every kind,
some of which seem to have no other value than that they are old,
while other things are very valuable and often very cheap.
Here, too, we find book-shops, and shops where prints and
engravings are sold, and all with their windows and even their
outside walls crowded with the best things they have to offer.
Along the river front are rows of stalls covered with second-hand
books at very low prices, and those of us who are collectors of old
coins can find them here by the peck or bushel. In this quarter,
also, are some immense dry-goods and variety stores, which are
worth going to see. One of them is so large, and there is so much
to see in it, that, at three o'clock every day, a guide who can speak
English sets out to conduct visitors through the establishment and
to explain its various details.
In nearly every quarter of Paris, on either side of the river,
we shall find shops, shops, shops; people, people, people; life,
activity, and bustle of every sort. Splendid buildings meet our
eyes at every turn — churches, private residences, places of business,
and public edifices. In the western portion of the city, near the
Arc de Triomphe, there are fewer shops, these streets being gen
erally occupied by fine private residences. But there is very little
monotony in Paris; no quarter is entirely given up to any one
thing. We cannot walk far in any direction without soon coming

148 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
upon some object of interest. 1 The parks, palaces, public monu
ments, gardens, grand and beautiful churches, fountains of various
designs, great market-places, squares, and buildings of historic
interest or architectural beauty, are sometimes collected in groups;
but, as a rule, they are scattered all over the city.
When we have satisfied ourselves with what Paris itself is,
although we have not seen anything like the whole of it, we shall
set about visiting some of its especial attractions. And the first
place we shall go to will be the great palace of the Louvre. This
palace, with its courts and buildings, covers some twenty acres.
Here have lived kings, queens, and princes; but now the palace
has been made into a museum for the people, and its grand halls
and galleries are filled with paintings, statuary, and other works of
art, ancient and modern, from all parts of the world. It would
take many, many visits even to give one look at every painting
and statue in the Louvre; but if we have not much time to spare,
it is possible to see the best things without walking ourselves to
death through the never-ending galleries. Some of the finest
paintings of Raphael, Da Vinci, Murillo, and other great masters
are collected in one room, which many persons would think well
worth coming to Paris to see, if they saw nothing else. The
original statue of the noble Venus de Milo is in the sculpture
galleries ; and in the Egyptian museum, which is so full that the
history of Egypt may be studied here almost as well as in that land
itself, we shall see a large stone sphinx which once belonged to
that king of Egypt from whom the children of Israel fled, and the
inscriptions on it show that it must have been a very old sphinx
even when Pharaoh had it. In another part of the museum are
three life-size figures in stone, which are portraits of persons who
lived before the great pyramids were built, about four thousand
years before the Christian era.

QUEEN PARIS. 149

Altogether, the collections of the Louvre are among the finest
and most extensive in the world, and they have a great advantage
over the galleries of the Vatican at Rome : in the Vatican some of
the galleries are open on one day, and some on another ; some
requiring one kind of order of admission, some another, and
others yet another, and these permits are sometimes troublesome
to obtain. But the galleries of the Louvre are free to all, rich or
poor, who may choose to walk into them, on any day of the week
except Monday, which is always reserved for cleaning, dusting, and
putting things in order.
In the old palace of the Luxembourg, a very much smaller
building, there is another valuable collection of paintings, but all
by French artists ; and the Hotel de Cluny, not far away, is a
small palace of the Middle Ages, and is one of the quaintest,
queerest, pleasantest, and most home-like palaces we are likely to
meet with. It is now a museum, containing over ten thousand
interesting objects, mostly relating to mediaeval times. Here,
among the other old-time things, we can see the very carriages and
sleighs in which the great people of the seventeenth century used to
ride. Those of us who suppose that we have now left the Romans
for good must not fail to visit some large baths adjoining this
palace, built about the end of the third century, when the Romans
had possession of Gaul. They then had a palace on this spot, and
felt bound, as the ancient Romans always did, to make themselves
comfortable with baths and everything of the kind. There are
other museums and art exhibitions in Paris, but those we have
seen are the most important ; and it is very pleasant to find that
they are greatly frequented by the poorer classes of the city, who
are just as orderly and well-behaved while walking about these
noble palaces as if they belonged to the highest families of the
land. In the great garden of the Tuileries, in the courts and gar-

150 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
dens attached to the Louvre, the Luxembourg, the Palais Royal,
and in all the pleasure-grounds of the city, we find the poor people
enjoying themselves; and in some cases they seem to get more
good out of these places than do the rich. The old women sit
knitting in the shade of the trees, the little babies with their
funny caps toddle about on the walks, the boys and girls have
their games in the great open spaces around the fountains ; and
while those who have a cent or two to spare can hire little chairs
and put them where they like, there are always benches for those
who have no pennies to spend. The convenience of resting one's
self in the open air is one of the comforts of Paris. In many
places along the principal streets there are benches on the side
walk, where weary passers-by may rest shaded by the trees. In
one part of the city, chiefly inhabited by the poor and the working
people, a fine park has been laid out entirely for their accommoda
tion. In very many ways the French Government offers opportu
nities to the poor people to enjoy themselves, and it is pleasant to
see how neat, orderly, and quiet these people are. It is very neces
sary that they should be kept in good humor, for when the lower
classes of Paris become thoroughly dissatisfied, they are apt to rise
in fierce rebellion, and then down go kings, governments, and palaces.
On the southern side of the river rises a great gilded dome,
which glistens in the sun, and may be seen from all parts of Paris.
This dome belongs to the church attached to the Hotel des Inva
lides, or hospital for invalid soldiers, and it covers the tomb of
Napoleon Bonaparte. This tomb, which is very magnificent and
imposing, is some distance below the floor of the church, and we
look down upon it over a circular railing. There we see the hand
some sarcophagus, made of a single block of granite weighing sixty-
seven tons, which contains the remains of a man who conquered
the greater part of Europe.

QUEEN PARIS.

151

Paris is full of churches, some old and some new, and many

THE SARCOPHAGUS
grand or
b eaut i f u 1 ;
but no one
of them is so
interesting as
the famous
cathedral of
Notre Dame,
which stands
on an island
in the Seine,
called La
Cite, or the
Island of the
City, because
here the orig
inal Paris was
built. This great church is not so attractive in appearance as some

THE TOMB OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE IN THE CHURCH OF THE
INVALIDES.

152 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
that we have seen elsewhere, but it is connected with so many
events in the history of France, that, as we wander about under
its vaulted arches and through its pillared aisles, and as we look
upon the strange and sometimes startling sculptures in the chapels,
the curious, wood-carvings about the choir, the immense circular
window of gorgeously stained glass in the transept, which sends its
brightness into the solemn duskiness of the church, we shall do so
with a degree of interest increased by what we have read about
this old and famous building.
Another church which we shall wish to see is Sainte-Chapelle,
or Holy Chapel, built in 1245 by King Louis IX., who was known
as St. Louis. It stands on the same island as Notre Dame, and
near the Palace of Justice, a great pile of buildings containing the
law courts. This church, or chapel, is small, but it is perhaps the
most beautiful of the. kind in the world. The walls of the upper
story, in which the royal court used to worship, are almost entirely
of exquisitely colored glass. These walls are formed of windows
nearly fifty feet high, and the light shining through every side of
this gorgeous temple of stained glass produces a remarkable and
beautiful effect.
The present Palace of Justice is for the most part a modern
building, but portions of the old edifice of the same name, which
used to stand upon this spot, still remain. In one of these we shall
visit the old Conciergerie, which is famous as a French state prison.
Here we shall see the little room with a brick floor, in which the
beautiful Marie Antoinette, the wife of Louis XVI., was impris
oned for two months before her execution. Here is the very
armchair in which she sat. Thus we bring to mind the events of
the great French Revolution, and can easily recall the sorrowful
things which took place in the halls and rooms of that gloomy
Conciergerie. %

QUEEN PARIS. 153

Another celebrated Parisian church is the Pantheon, an im
mense edifice. This building was intended as a burial-place for
illustrious men of France.
We have all heard of the famous cemetery of Pere-Lachaise. It
lies within the city, and will be interesting to us, not only because
of its great size and beauty, and because it contains the graves of
so many persons famous in art, science, literature, and war, but
because it is so different from any graveyard to which we are
accustomed. It has more than twenty thousand monuments, and
many of these are like little houses, standing side by side as if
they were dwellings on a street. Each vault generally belongs to
a family, and the little buildings are almost always decorated with
a profusion of flowers and wreaths, and often with pictures and
hanging lamps. Here, as in other French cemeteries, it is not
uncommon to place a framed photograph of a deceased person
over his grave.
There are small steamboats which run up and down the Seine
like omnibuses, and the charge to passengers is about two cents
apiece. These little boats are called by the Parisians mouches, or
flies ; and as they are often very convenient for city trips, we shall
take one of them and go to the Jardin des Plantes, a very extensive
and famous zoological and botanical garden. Here we may ramble
for hours, and see animals from all parts of the world, in cages and
houses, and in little yards where they can enjoy the open air.
At the other end of the city, outside the walls, is the Jardin
d'Acclimatation, that contains a great number of foreign animals
and plants, many of which have been naturalized so as to feel at
home in the climate of France. In one house here we may see all
kinds of silk-worms, with the plants they feed upon growing near
by. In another part of the grounds we shall find trained zebras
and ostriches harnessed to little carriages, in which children may

154 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

take a ride ; and we shall see some very gentle elephants and
camels, on which we may mount and get an idea of how people
travel in the East.
The Bois de Boulogne, adjoining this garden, is a very large
park, where we can see the fashionable people of Paris in their
carriages on fine afternoons.
There are certain goods sold in Paris known under the name
of " articles de Paris." These consist of all sorts of pretty things,
generally very tasteful but not very expensive, among which are
jewelry and trinkets of many kinds, and a great variety of useful
and ornamental little objects made in the most attractive fashion.
These goods, of course, can be bought in other cities, but Paris
has made a specialty of their manufacture, and many shops are
entirely given up to their sale. A great number of such shops is
to be found in the Palais Royal. This is a vast palace built for
Cardinal Richelieu, in 1625, and is in the form of a hollow square,
surrounding the garden of the Palais Royal. Around the four
sides of the palace, under long colonnades and facing the garden,
are rows of shops, their windows filled with all sorts of sparkling
and beautiful things in gold, silver, precious stones, bronze, brass,
and every other material that pretty things can be made of. By
night or by day the colonnades of the Palais Royal are very attrac
tive places, and as all visitors go to them, so do we. Even if we
do not buy anything, we shall be interested in the endless display
in the windows.
Another place we shall wish to visit is the famous manufactory
of Gobelin tapestry. In this factory, which belongs to the Gov
ernment, are produced large and beautiful woven pictures, and the
great merit of the work is that it is done entirely by hand, no
machinery being used. The operation is very slow, each work
man putting one thread at a time in its place, and faithfully copy-

QUEEN PARIS. 155

ing a painting in oil or water-colors, which stands near him, as a
model. If in a day he covers a space as large as his hand, he considers
that he has done a very good day's work. These tapestries, which
are generally very large and expensive, are used as wall-hangings
in palaces and public buildings. It will be an especial delight, I
think, to the girls in our company, to watch this beautiful work
slowly growing under the fingers of the skilful artisans.
Outside of Paris, but not far away, there are some famous
places which we must see. First among these are the palace and
grounds of Versailles, a magnificent palace built by Louis XIV.
for a summer residence. This gentleman, who liked to be called
Le Grand Monarque, had so high an idea of the sort of country
place he wanted, that he spent upon this palace and its grounds
the sum of two hundred millions of dollars. The whole place is
now open to the public, and the grand and magnificent apartments
and halls, some of them nearly four hundred feet long, are filled
with paintings and statuary, so that the palace is now a great art-
gallery. The park is splendidly laid out, having in it a wide canal
nearly a mile long. The fountains here are considered the finest
in the world, and when they play, which is not very often, thou
sands upon thousands of people come out from Paris to see them.
In the grounds are two small palaces, once inhabited by French
queens ; and one of these, called the little Trianon, was the beau
tiful home of Marie Antoinette, whose last home on earth was
the brick-paved room of the Conciergerie. The private garden
attached to this little palace, which is more like a park than a
garden, possesses much rural beauty.
Here, on the margin of a lake, we may see the little thatched
cottages which Marie Antoinette had built, that she and the ladies
of her court might play at being milkmaids. These cottages stand

156 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

just as they did when those noble ladies dressed themselves up like
peasant girls, and milked cows, which, I have no doubt, were very
gentle animals, while the royal milkmaids probably tried to make
themselves believe that they could have the happiness of real milk
maids as well as that which belonged to their own lives of luxury
and state.
At Fontainebleau is another royal palace, to which is attached
a magnificent forest of forty-two thousand acres. The kings of
France did not like to feel cramped in their houses or grounds,
and in this beautiful forest, which measures fifty miles around,
there are twelve thousand four hundred miles of roads and foot
paths. Not far from Paris is the old palace of St. Germain, in which
many kings have been born, lived, and died, and to which there is
a forest of nine thousand acres attached. There is also St. Cloud,
with a ruined palace and a lovely park, with statues, fountains, and
charming walks ; and, near by, the village of Sevres, where the
famous porcelain of that name is made. Also within easy distance
of the city is the old cathedral of St. Denis, where, for over a thou
sand years, the kings of France were buried. Here, in a crypt or
burial-place'under the church, we may look through a little barred
window into a gloomy vault, and see, standing quite near us, the
metal coffin which contains the bones of Marie Antoinette, whose
palaces, pleasure-grounds, prison-house, and place of execution we
have already seen.
The history of France shows us that Paris has been as rich in
historical events as it is now in bright, attractive shops ; but, as
a rule, it is much more pleasant to see the latter than to remember
the former. In our walks through Paris, we shall not think too
much of the dreadful riots and combats that have taken place in
her streets, the blood that has been shed even in her churches, and

QUEEN PARIS. 1 57

the executions and murders that have been witnessed in her beau
tiful open squares. Instead of this, we shall give ourselves up to
the enjoyment of the queen of cities as she now is, thinking only
of the unrivalled pleasures she offers to visitors, and of the kind
ness and politeness which we almost always meet with from her
citizens.

IX.

KING LONDON.

IN the visit which we are about to make to the largest and rich
est civilized city in the world, I will mention at the outset that
if any one were to undertake to walk, one way only, through all
the streets of London, he would be obliged to go a distance of
two thousand six hundred miles, or as far as it is across the Ameri
can continent from New York to San Francisco. This will give
an idea of what would have to be done in order to see even the
greater part of London.
In our approach to this city, as well as in our rambles through
its streets, we shall not be struck so much by its splendid and
imposing appearance as by its immensity. Go where we may,
there seems to be no end to the town. It is fourteen miles one
way, and eight miles the other, and contains a population of nearly
four million people, which is greater than that of Switzerland
or of the kingdoms of Denmark and Greece combined. We are
told on good authority that there are more Scotchmen in London
than in Edinburgh, more Irishmen than in Dublin, and more Jews
than in Palestine, with foreigners from all parts of the world,
including a great number of Americans. Yet there are so many
Englishmen in London, that one is not likely to notice the presence
of the people of other nations.
This vast body of citizens, some so rich that they never can
count their money, and some so poor that they never have any to
count, eat every year four hundred thousand oxen, one and a half

KING LONDON. 159

million sheep, eight million chickens and game birds, not to speak
of calves, hogs, and different kinds of fish. They consume five
hundred million oysters, which, although it seems like a large
number, would give only, if equally divided among all the people,
one oyster every third day to each person. There are three hun
dred thousand servants in London, enough people to make a large
city ; but, as this gives but one servant to each dozen citizens,
it is quite evident that a great many of the people must wait on
themselves. Things are very unequally divided in London ; and
I have no doubt that instead of there being one servant to twelve
persons, some of the rich lords and ladies have twelve servants
apiece. There are many other things of this kind which I might tell
you, and which would help to give you an idea of the vastness and
wealth of this great centre of the world's commerce, into whose
port twenty thousand vessels enter annually ; while land is so
valuable that a single acre of it has been sold for four and a half
million dollars. But we must now proceed to see London for
ourselves ; and we shall begin at the great church of St. Paul's,
which is in one of the most busy and crowded portions of the city.
I must say here that a particular portion of London is known
as " The City." Although it is comparatively but a small part of
the metropolis, it is the centre of business, and contains the great
mercantile houses, the Bank of England, the Exchange, the Gen
eral Post-Ofnce, the courts of justice, the great newspaper offices,
and the famous London Docks. " The City " is presided over by
the Lord Mayor, that personage of whom you have read so much,
and who has nothing at all to do with the rest of London.
In the midst of this busy, noisy, and crowded section stands
St. Paul's, with its dome high above everything. When it was
new and its marble was white, this church must have been very

i6o

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

handsome, viewed from the outside ; but now it is a dingy gray,
and in some places quite black, on account of the coal-smoke
which is continually settling down upon London and making it the
grimiest, dingiest city in the world. It is everywhere the same.
The splendid white marble buildings are now gray and black; the
bricks, of which most of the houses are built, are generally the color

ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL, SEEN OVER THE ROOFS OF NEIGHBORING HOUSES.
of an old ham ; and if you see a bright or fresh-looking house in
London, you may be sure that it has very recently been painted
or built. If you want to know the reason of this, we will go up
to the top of the dome of St. Paul's, from which we can look down
upon a great part of London.
As we gaze upon the vast city stretching out far on every side,
one of the first things which will attract our attention will be the

KING LONDON. 161

amazing number of chimney-pots which stand up from the roof of
every building, large and small. There seem to be millions of
them, some earthenware and some iron, some of one shape and
some of another, some twisted and some straight ; but three or
four, and often more, on every chimney. From all these chimney
pots during cold or cool weather, and from a great many, of them
during the whole of the year, rise up little curls or big curls of the
dark, heavy smoke which comes from the soft coal generally burned
in London. This smoke, which is often filled with little specks of
soot, rises a short distance into the air, and then gently settles
down to blacken and begrime the city.
At certain seasons, when the air is heavy with moisture, this
smoke helps to form a fog quite different from those to which
people in other cities are accustomed. It is so thick and dark
that the day seems like night. People cannot find their way in
the streets ; vehicles must stand still or run into one another ; the
street lamps shed a sickly light for only a yard or two around ;
shutters are closed and houses are lighted at midday as if it were
midnight; and until the fog rises, the outdoor life of London
comes very nearly to a full stop. To see one of these fogs may
do ve^ well for a novelty, but we shall try not to be in London at
the season when they generally occur, which is late autumn and
winter. St. Paul's is the largest Protestant church in the world ; and
when we get inside of it and stand under the great dome, we shall
be apt to think that it is a bare-looking place, and rather too big.
It is adorned with a great many fine groups of statuary in memory
of English soldiers and heroes, but these do not help much to
brighten up its cold and dull interior. St. Peter's at Rome is twice
as large, but is a far more cheerful church.
It seems rather odd to come to a churchyard to buy things, but

1 62 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
St. Paul's Churchyard is one of the great resorts of London shop
pers. It is not now really a churchyard, but is a street which runs
entirely around the great church, and is filled with shops. Here
we can stroll among the crowds of people on the sidewalk, and on
one side look upon windows filled with everything that any one
would want to buy, and on the other side gaze up at the mag
nificent cathedral which is the pride of London.
It will interest us very much in going about London to meet
with many streets and places which, although we now see them for
the first time, seem to us like old acquaintances. From one corner
of St. Paul's Churchyard is the lively street called Cheapside, from
which John Gilpin started on his famous ride.
From the front of St. Paul's runs Ludgate Hill, a street which
is just as busy as it can be, and crowded with omnibuses, cabs,
wagons, and people. A little farther on, this same street becomes
Fleet Street, where we find many book-shops and printing estab
lishments, which always make us think of Dr. Johnson, because he
was so fond of this street. Near it he wrote his great dictionary,
and lived and died. At the end of Fleet Street used to stand
Temple Bar, which was an archway across the street, ornamented
with iron spikes, on which the heads of executed traitors used to
be stuck. This celebrated gateway was one of the entrances to the
city, and the king of England had no right to go through it unless
he had permission of the Lord Mayor. Even now, Queen Victoria
does not pass the monument which stands in the place of the old
Temple Bar, without the formal consent of the Lord Mayor.
Near this place rises the magnificent building recently erected
for the London Law Courts. It covers a whole block, and, with
its towers and turrets and peaked roofs, resembles a vast Norman
castle. We now find ourselves in that street, well known to readers of

KING LONDON. 163

English books, called the Strand, where the shops, the people, and
the omnibuses seem to increase in number. Here we shall see
in the windows all manner of useful things ; and, indeed, in our
rambles through London we shall discover that, although there
are many shop-windows filled with ornamental objects, the com
modities offered for sale are generally things of real use, — to wear,
to travel with, to eat, to read, or to make of some manner of use.
In Paris there are many more beautiful objects, but they do not
so much seem to be the things we really need. The Strand ends
at Charing Cross, where we may see a model of an old-time cross
which used to stand here. Charing Cross is one of the great
centres of London life. It seems as if most of the citizens make
it their business to come here at least once a day. Several lines
of omnibuses start from this point ; here are a great railway sta
tion and an immense hotel ; little streets and big streets run off in
every direction ; cabs, men, boys, women, and wagons do the same
thing ; and it would be almost impossible to cross from one side to
the other, were it not for a little curbed space like an island in the
middle of the street, on which we can rest when we get half way
over, and wait for a chance to cross the other half of the street.
Nearly all the crowded streets of London, as well as those of Paris,
are provided with these little central refuges for foot-passengers.
All the vehicles going up the street pass on one side of these
islands, while those going down pass on the other ; so that we
only have to look in one direction for horses' heads when we are
actually in the street. But we must remember that in England
the law obliges vehicles to keep to the left, while in France they
turn to the right, as with us.
Close to Charing Cross is Trafalgar Square, a fine open space
with a fountain, and a column to Lord Nelson, and facing this
square we see the pillars and the portico of the National Gallery.

164 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
The admirable collection of paintings in this building is not nearly
so large as those we have seen in Paris and Italy, but it will
greatly interest us in two ways. It will not only be refreshing to
see pictures by English painters on English subjects, as well as
many very fine paintings by Continental masters, but we shall be
surprised, and very much pleased, continually to meet with the
originals of engravings on steel and wood with which we have
been familiar all our lives. Here are Landseer's dogs and horses,
the children of Sir Joshua Reynolds and of Sir Thomas Lawrence,
Wilkie's village scenes, and many other paintings which we shall
recognize the moment our eyes fall upon them.
Returning across Trafalgar Square, we continue our walk, and
find that the Strand is now changed into a broad street, called
Whitehall, in which are situated many of the governmental and
public offices, such as the Treasury, the War Office, and so on.
One of these buildings belongs to the Horse Guards, a very fine
body of English cavalry, and here we shall see something interest
ing. On each side of a broad gateway is a little house, or shed,
with its front entirely open to the sidewalk ; and in eaqh of these
houses is a soldier on horseback. This soldier is dressed in a
splendid scarlet coat, a steel helmet with a long plume, and high-
topped boots. The horse is coal-black, which is the regulation
color of the Horse Guards' horses. The peculiarity of this pair of
men and horses is that, while they are stationed here on guard,
they never move. The man sits as if he were carved in stone, and
although I have no doubt he winks, he does it so that nobody
notices it ; while the horse is almost as motionless as one of the
bronze horses of St. Mark's in Venice. He neither switches his
tail, nods his head, nor stamps his feet. He has been trained to
do nothing but think while he stands in this little house, and that
is all he does. Nearly all visitors to London come to see these

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

KING LONDON. 167

two statue-like men and horses at the entrance to the Horse
Guards. At certain hours these soldiers are relieved and their
places supplied by others, and there is generally a little crowd
assembled to witness this manoeuvre. A tall sergeant comes out
into the street, turns around, and faces the two horsemen. At his
word of command, each soldier rides out of his little house, then
they turn around squarely and ride toward each other, then they
turn again, and side by side ride through the gate into the court
yard. It now appears as if they have works inside of them and
are moved by machinery, so exactly do they keep time with each
other in every motion. At the word of command they stop, each
man lifts up his right leg, throws it over the back of his horse, and
drops it to the ground so that the two boots -tap the pavement at
the same instant. Then each left foot is drawn from the stirrup,
and each man stands up and leads away his horse, while two other
guardsmen come out to take their places in the little houses, and
sit motionless for a stated time.
Continuing on our course, we find that Whitehall is changed to
Parliament Street and leads us to Westminster Abbey and the
splendid Houses of Parliament, on the river-bank. We all have
heard so much of Westminster Abbey, that grand old burial-place
of Englishmen of fame, that it will scarcely strike us as entirely
novel ; but I doubt if any of us have formed an idea of the lofty
beauty of its pillars and arched ceiling, and the extent and number
of its recesses and chapels crowded with monuments and relics of
the past.
Of course, we shall go first to the Poets' Corner, where so many
literary men lie buried, and where there are so many monuments
to those who are buried elsewhere. Among these we shall be
glad to see the bust of our own Longfellow, the only person not
an Englishman who has a monument here. We shall spend hours

1 68 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
in Westminster Abbey and in its chapels, where there are so many
interesting memorials and tombs of old-time kings and queens,
knights and crusaders ; and then, having made up our minds that
on the very next Sunday we will come here to church, we shall go
out of a side door into a queer little street, where, in a secluded
corner, are some quaint little houses with such names as " Mr. John
This," and " Mr. Thomas That," and " Mr. George The-other-thing"
on their front gates ; and, after walking a short distance, we shall
find ourselves at the entrance to the Houses of Parliament.
It is only on Saturdays that these great buildings can be visited,
and then we must have permits from the Lord Chamberlain, whose
office is around a corner of the edifice. We can wander as we
please through all the public parts of the building, for Parliament
is never in session on Saturdays, and we shall see splendid and
handsome halls and corridors, including the Queen's robing-room,
with her throne on one side of it, although she seldom or never
sits there, and the magnificent House of Lords, with three thrones
at one end of it, which were originally intended for the Queen, her
husband Prince Albert, and her oldest son the Prince of Wales.
There are many more halls and apartments, all magnificently
fitted up and adorned with rich carvings and paintings, making
this a wonderfully grand and imposing building. We shall be
surprised, however, when we see the room intended for the House
of Commons, the real governing power of England. In these
immense Houses of Parliament, covering eight acres, and contain
ing eleven hundred rooms and apartments, there is for the House
of Commons only a room so small, that, when all the members are
present, there is not accommodation for them on the main floor,
and many of them have to stow themselves away in the gallery
or wherever they can find room. Adjoining this magnificent
building, and now really a part of it, is the famous old West-

KING LONDON.

169

minster Hall, a vast chamber capable of holding a dozen Houses
of Commons. This great hall was built in its present form by
Richard II. Here the English Parliament used to meet, and here

-•;. -^== -* Mi

THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.

state trials were held. Among the persons condemned to death
in this room were Charles I., William Wallace the Scotch hero,
and Guy Fawkes. The lofty roof, formed of dark oaken beams,
is very peculiar, and in construction is one of the finest roofs of
its kind in the world.

I 70 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
When we leave here, we shall go out on one of the bridges
across the Thames, and get a view of the river-front of the Houses
of Parliament, with the great Victoria Tower at one end, and at
the other the Clock Tower, with four clock-faces, each of which is
twenty-three feet in diameter ; so that people do not have to go
very close to see what time it is. The large bell in this tower
weighs thirteen tons, and it requires five hours to wind up the
striking part of the clock.
We are now in the western part of London, which is the fash
ionable quarter, where the lords and ladies and the rich and grand
people live, and where the shops are finer, the people better dressed,
and where there are more private carriages than business wagons.
Among the fine streets here are Pall Mall (pronounced Pell Mell),
where we see on either side of the street large and handsome build
ings belonging to the London clubs ; and Piccadilly, full of grand
shops, leading to the famous Hyde Park. London gentlemen con
sider a walk down Piccadilly one of the pleasantest things they can
do, and there are people who think that there is not in the world a
street so attractive as this. It is certainly a pleasant promenade ;
and for a great part of its length we have on one side the beautiful
trees and grass of Green Park, at the farther side of which stands
Buckingham Palace, the Queen's London residence.
Hyde Park, with the adjoining Kensington Gardens, is a very
large enclosure, with drives, grassy lawns, and fine trees, and with a
pretty river running through it. Near Hyde Park corner, where
we enter, are some magnificent residences, among which is Apsley
House, belonging to the Duke of Wellington. One of the roads
in Hyde Park is called Rotten Row, and is devoted entirely to
horseback riding. There is nothing decayed about this Row, and
it is said that the place used to be called Route de Roi, the Road
of the King, and it has generally been corrupted into Rotten Row.

KING LONDON. 171

There are many proper names which the English people pro
nounce very differently from the way in which they are spelled : St.
John, for instance, is pronounced Singe-on ; Beauchamp is Beecham;
and when they wish to mention the name Cholmondeley, they say
Chumley, while Sevenoaks has become Snooks.
From twelve to two o'clock we may see Rotten Row filled with
lady and gentleman riders, trotting or galloping up and down. But
the finest sight of Hyde Park begins about five o'clock in the after
noon, when the carriages of the nobility and gentry fill the long
drive on the south side of the park. There is no place in the
world where we can see so many fine horses and carriages, so much
fashion, so much wealth, and so much aristocracy, in a compara
tively small space, as in Hyde Park, between five and seven o'clock
in the afternoon, during what is called the " London season." The
carriages, which are generally open, with spirited horses, and liv
eried coachmen, some of whom wear powdered wigs, drive up one
side of the roadway and down the other, keeping as close to one
another as they can get, and forming a great moving mass, which it
is very pleasant to gaze upon. Along the sidewalks are long rows
of chairs which can be hired, those with arms for four cents, and
those without arms for two ; and on these it is the delight of the
London people to sit and watch the show of handsome equipages,
beautiful dresses, and high-born faces. No cabs or public vehicles
•are allowed on this drive, which is entirely devoted to private
carriages. When we go out of Hyde Park at its northeast corner, we
enter Oxford Street, a wide and busy thoroughfare, crowded with
every kind of vehicle and all sorts of foot-passengers. Crossing
this is Regent Street, the most fashionable shopping-street in Lon
don, where we find the finest stores, and the handsomest displays
in the windows. This street is very wide, and the houses on each

172 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
side are nearly all of the same color, a pale yellow, and are prob
ably painted every year to keep them fresh.
We are now going back toward the city, and, continuing
through the lively scenes of Oxford Street, we perceive that after
a time this great thoroughfare changes into High Holborn ; and we
may remember what Thomas Hood had to say about a lost child in
this street, when he wrote :
" One day, as I was going by
That part of Holborn christened High,
I heard a loud and sudden cry
That chilled my very blood."
Then the street becomes Holborn Viaduct, where, for about a
quarter of a mile, it is built up high across a deep depression in the
city, making a level line of street where there used to be two steep
hills. At one point there is a bridge where we can look over the
railing and see portions of the city spread out below us. At one
end of this viaduct is the old Church of St. Sepulchre, where lies
buried Captain John Smith, who, we will remember, would prob
ably have been buried in Virginia, had it not been for the kindly
intervention of Pocahontas. And at the other end is the famous
prison of Newgate. Daniel Defoe — author of "Robinson Crusoe"
— Jack Sheppard, and William Penn were imprisoned in Newgate;
but the building has been a great deal altered since their times.
The street here is called Newgate Street, and before very long it
merges into Cheapside, and we find ourselves at the point from
which we started. Not far from Newgate is a much more cheerful
place, of which most of us have heard or read. This is Christ's
Hospital, the home of the Blue Coat Boys, who, with their long
coats, knee-breeches, and yellow stockings, and never wearino- any
hats, winter or summer, are frequently to be met with in the
picture-galleries and other public places in London. It is now

KING LONDON. ' 173

the intention of the managers of this school to move it into the
country. In the very heart of the city, where we now are, stands the
great Bank of England. This building, with one of its sides on
Threadneedle Street, covers about four acres, but is only one story
high. It has no windows on the outside, through which thieves
might get in from the street, and light and air are supplied by
windows opening on inside courts. This is one of the richest
banks in the world ; its vaults often contain as much as a hundred
million dollars in gold, and every night a small detachment of sol
diers from some regiment stationed in the city is quartered here to
protect its treasures. Each of the men receives a small sum from
the bank, and the officer in command is provided with a dinner for
himself and any two friends he may choose to invite. But at a
certain hour the head watchman of the bank comes around with
the great keys, to lock up the outer door with ceremonies that
have been observed for generations, and the two friends must
leave,. whether they are ready to go or not.
Opposite the Bank is the Mansion House, the stately edifice in
which the Lord Mayor lives. Near by is the Royal Exchange,
with a grand portico, and a tall tower, on the top of which is a great
golden grasshopper, which some people may think is intended to
mean that the money made by the hundreds and thousands of busi
ness-men who crowd here during certain hours will skip away from
them if they are not careful : in reality, it is the crest of the original
builder of the Exchange. In this neighborhood also is the Gen
eral Post-Office and the great Telegraph Building.
A good deal farther eastward than these, and on the bank of
the River Thames, which runs through London as the Seine does
through Paris, stands the ancient and far-famed Tower of London.
This is not by any means a single tower, but is a collection of

174 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
strongly fortified buildings surrounded by a high and massive wall,
and is a veritable castle, or fortress, of the olden time, standing
here in the crowded and busy London of to-day. We shall wander
for a long time through this gloomy old fortress and prison, now
used as an arsenal and barracks for soldiers. Most of the ancient
buildings, towers, and walls are still just as they used to be. Here
we shall see the Bloody Tower, in which the two princes were mur
dered by Richard III. ; the great central White Tower, built by
William the Conqueror, and now containing a museum of old-time
armor and weapons, where we may also see many wooden figures
of mounted men clad in the very armor worn long ago by knights
and kings. In another tower, the Beauchamp Tower, we shall
enter the prison-chamber in which many of the great people of
England were confined, and we can read the inscriptions written
by them on the walls. In the corner of the enclosure is a little
chapel, which differs from every other church, in containing the
graves of so many famous beheaded people. Among these are
Queen Anne Boleyn ; Lady Jane Grey and her husband; Queen
Elizabeth's friend, the Earl of Essex ; and others with whose names
we are very familiar in English history. If there had been no way
of cutting off people's heads, or of otherwise putting an end to
them, a great deal of the history of the world would never have
been written. In another tower, where it is said Henry VI. was
murdered, we shall see the crown jewels, or regalia, of England,
which are here for safe-keeping. They are in a great glass case
surrounded by a strong iron-barred cage, through which a thief,
even if he could get over the Tower walls and through its guards,
would find it hard to break. In this case we see golden crowns,
sceptres, swords, and crosses, covered with magnificent jewels of
every kind, besides many other dazzling and costly objects. On
Queen Victoria's state crown are no less than two thousand seven

KING LONDON. I 75

hundred and eighty-three diamonds ; and in front is the great ruby,
said to have belonged to the Black Prince, which Henry V., who
liked to make a gorgeous appearance on great occasions, wore on
his helmet at the battle of Ag;incourt.
Standing about in various places in the Tower grounds we shall
meet with some of the warders, called " beef-eaters," which is an
English corruption of the French buffetiers, or royal waiters.
These men are dressed in mediaeval costume, and carry tall
halberds, or spears. In olden times, one of these was the heads
man and bore a great axe.
Not far from the Tower are the great London Docks, which
are not upon the river, but are inland water enclosures of more
than a hundred acres in extent, surrounded by great warehouses.
In these docks three hundred large vessels can lie ; and in the
warehouses, and in the immense vaults beneath them, are stored
such vast quantities of goods — tea, silk, tobacco, coffee, sugar, wine,
and everything that can be brought from foreign lands — that there
seems to be no end or limit to them. A visit to these docks, as
well as to the West India Docks, which are still larger, and to
several others in this quarter of London, will help to give us an idea
of the enormous commerce and wealth of the great metropolis.
Among the sights of London is the British Museum, which is
one of the most extensive and valuable libraries and museums in
the world. There are more than a million books here, as well as
collections of Grecian, Assyrian, and Egyptian marbles, statuary,
and inscriptions ; with curiosities, antique and modern ; and scien-'
tific and other interesting objects, in number like the leaves upon a
tree. If any of my companions wish to examine every object there
is in the British Museum, they must give up the rest of London.
Another collection, almost as large, and more interesting to
many persons, is the South Kensington Museum.

176 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
This museum is mostly devoted to objects of art, and contains
both ancient and modern specimens of architecture, paintings,
statues, beautiful pottery of every kind, and enough things worth
looking at and studying to tire out the legs and brains of any
human being who should try to see them all at one time.
In Regent's Park, a large enclosure to the north of Hyde Park,
are the Zoological Gardens, which are in many respects more
interesting than those of Paris, arid are very admirably arranged
for the convenience both of the visitors and of the animals. Here
the animals have more room to move about than is usual in
menageries. There are elephants and camels which carry ladies
and children up and down the grounds ; and we shall see some fine
Bengal tigers, belonging to the Prince of Wales, in a great open-
air enclosure so large that they almost seem to' be at liberty, and
they walk about and bound over trunks of trees as if they were in
their Indian homes. At feeding-time, which is in the afternoon,
this whole place is in a state of rampage, the animals requiring no
dinner-bell to let them know what time it is.
Another interesting place, where the creatures require no food
and are not at all dangerous, is Madame Tussaud's wax-work
show. Here we shall see life-size figures of famous men and
women from all parts of the world — Richard the Lion-hearted,
President Lincoln, Queen Elizabeth, Cetewayo, Gladstone, Gui-
teau, and many other well-known people. Whenever a person
does anything which makes him famous, a wax portrait-figure of
him, dressed in the same kind of clothes he wears, is set up in
this gallery, among the crowd of kings, queens, warriors, states
men, and criminals already here. Here is a figure of Cobbett, the
English politician, sitting upon one of the long benches placed
for the accommodation of visitors. By means of machinery inside
of him, his head every now and then moves quickly to one side, as

KING LONDON. 177

if he were looking around to see who is there. He is a large man,
of benevolent appearance, wearing a broad-brimmed hat like a
Quaker's, and it is considered a very good joke when some visitor,
thinking him a real man, sits down by him, and is startled at the
sudden turn of his head. This is a great London resort, for nearly
everybody wants to know how eminent people look, and what kind
of clothes they wear.
We must also visit the great London markets, one of which,
called Covent Garden, is devoted to vegetables, fruit, and flowers ;
and these are brought in such vast numbers, and there are such lively
scenes among the crowds of purchasers, that many strangers, who
have no idea of buying, come here in the early mornings simply to
witness the spectacle. There is also Smithfield Market, a building
covering three and a half acres, with a garden and fountain in the
centre, where we see exposed for sale the meat of oxen, calves,
hogs, and sheep. In the Billingsgate Market we see fish in such
quantities that we can scarcely imagine how a city which eats so
much fish can possibly want any meat. Leadenhall Market is
given up entirely to poultry and game ; while another of the many
London markets is devoted in great part to the sale of water-
cresses. Near Smithfield Market is the old market-place where
many famous persons were burned at the stake.
While we are in this part of the town, we must stop for a time
at the Guildhall, the ancient Town Hall of London, where there
is a museum of curious things connected with old London, and
where we may still see the queer wooden giants, Gog and Magog.
Leaving the noisy city, and the crowded business portions of
London, it is a great relief to take a hansom cab, open in front,
with a driver sitting out of our sight behind, and to roll swiftly
over the smooth streets of the West End, as it is called, where the
rich and fashionable people live. Here we find a great many

178 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
"squares," which are little enclosed parks with streets and dwelling-
houses all around them ; and farther to the west we come to
long streets and avenues, where the houses have front gardens,
and often back gardens, and where everything is as quiet, and
almost as rural, as in a country village. Here, if we do not know
London, we may think that we are in the suburbs, and that we
need not go far to get into the country ; but if we turn up a side
street, and go a block or two, we shall come upon a long, noisy
business street, crowded with people, vehicles, and shops, and find
ourselves in another of the great business quarters of London.
To get out of London and London life is not easy, and after
strolling for hours we still see London stretching out before us, as
if it would say, " Here I am, and if you want to see the end of me,
you must walk a long, long way yet."
There are many places outside of London to which we must
certainly go, and one of these is the Crystal Palace. In this great
glass building we may see miles of interesting things connected
with architecture, art, and nature. Theatrical performances also
are given here, and concerts, and sometimes grand shows of
fireworks. Then there is Hampton Court, an old palace built by Cardinal
Wolsey, with very beautiful grounds and garden, laid out in the
old-fashioned style. There we may wander in the walks and under
the trees where "bluff King Hal," and later Charles I., wandered
with their courtiers.
At Windsor Castle, the residence of Queen Victoria, we shall
spend a day ; and, although the Queen may not be likely to ask us
in, we shall see a great deal of the interior of the magnificent
building in which the sovereigns of England, from as far back as
Edward III., have lived.
Then we must go to Richmond, a charming village on the

KING LONDON.

179

Thames, where all London people go, and where there is a beauti
ful park and view.
We may also visit Greenwich, at longitude nothing, and go to
the celebrated Kew Gardens, full of rare and beautiful trees and
plants and flowers.

THE VICTORIA EMBANKMENT, LONDON.

The Victoria Embankment is a magnificent roadway extending
along the banks of the Thames, from Blackfriars Bridge to West
minster Bridge, more than a mile. It is built over a low shore
which used to be covered by water twice every day at high tide.
This great work consists of a wide roadway with handsome walks
on either side, and is shaded by trees and embellished with statues.

180 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
In some places there are gardens on it, and here stands a hand
some obelisk which was brought from Egypt. The embankment
cost ten millions of dollars, and under it are tunnels, through one
of which runs one of the underground railways of London.
On the other side of the river is another roadway of the same
kind, not so long, called the Albert Embankment. The first of
these is often called the Thames Embankment.
And now, my good readers, do you suppose that we have seen
all London ? You may have an idea of it, but I could take you
about for a week or two more and show you interesting places and
things which we have not yet seen. But we have done as much
as we can at present ; and strapping our valises, and locking our
trunks, we shall bid good-by to great King London.

X.
IN ENGLISH COUNTRY.
DURING our stay in England we shall discover, if we pay
attention to what people say and do, that Great Britain is
divided into two grand divisions : one is London, and the
other is the rest of the kingdom. When any one in England says
he is going to town, we may know that he is going to London.
If he intended to visit any other of the great English cities, he
would mention Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, or whatever
its name might be. Town life means London life, and the other
cities, no matter how large and important they are, are considered
provincial, and a little countrified.
An American boy or girl, who knows something of country life
in a land which stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific and
covers a great part of a continent, will be apt to think that Eng
land, about as large as the State of Illinois, and with a population
of over thirty millions, must be so full of people that no part of it
could have that quiet and secluded character which belongs to real
country life. But this is a mistake. A great portion of the popu
lation of England is so packed and crowded into its cities, towns,
and villages, that there are wide extents of country which are as
rural and pastoral as any lover of country life need desire to see,
unless, indeed, he be fond only of the primeval forest or the
trackless prairie. In this little country we may even find extensive
forests, and far-reaching districts like the great moors of Devon-

1 82 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

shire, which in parts are almost as desolate and uninhabited as a
wild prairie:
But the great population of England has had a peculiar influ
ence upon the appearance of the country. Where there are so
many people to work, a vast deal of work has been done. The
land is well and even beautifully cultivated ; the roads are almost
as smooth and hard as a driveway in a park ; and there is a general
appearance of order and high culture which could not be expected
in a country like ours, where there is so much to do, and, com
paratively, so few to do it.
England owes one of its greatest beauties to its climate. We
need not wonder that its fields and hillsides are so richly green, and
that its trees and hedge-rows are so verdant and luxuriant, when we
consider that the whole country is well watered nearly every day.
Rainy, or at least showery, weather is so common in England that
most things which flourish when well supplied with water are bound
to flourish there. It is not pleasant to be caught in a shower when
one least expects it, or to go out in the rain because it will be of
no use to wait until the rain is over ; but, on the other hand, it is
delightful to look upon the charming country which springs up
under a watering-pot sky. But there are often clear, sunny days
in England, and while we are in that country we must imitate the
English people, and when it does rain we must not mind it. The
idea of good weather is very different there from what it is with us.
A gentle rain is not regarded, and I have heard two men, standing
under umbrellas in a drizzling sprinkle, remark to each other that
it was a fine day.
I wish my young companions to see for themselves what real
rural life and rural scenery is in England, and so I shall take them
with me to a place which is as truly " out in the country " as any
spot we are likely to visit on this island. It is not a wild moorland

AV ENGLISH COUNTRY.

l83

nor a thinly populated mountainous district, but a place where we
can see the ordinary country life as we read about it in English
books and stories.
We begin our journey by going to Paddington station, London,
where we take tickets for Prince's Risborough, a little town on the

AN ENGLISH MEADOW.

Great Western Railway. For a time we roll swiftly along on
the main line of the Great Western, but soon branch off on a
single-track road, on which we go as slowly, and stop as often,
as on some of our own railroads. In about two hours we reach
Prince's Risborough, a small town in Buckinghamshire. This
county is generally called Bucks for short.

I 84 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
Our destination, however, is Monk's Risborough, which is a
little village a few miles farther in the country. At the station
we take " flies" — not blue-bottle ones, but one-horse carriages, each
holding four persons ; and our baggage, which in England is called
"luggage," is carried in a "van," or spring-wagon. We drive
away over a smooth hard road, and although it is raining steadily,
and we are obliged to keep the carriage windows shut, we see that
we are passing through a very pretty country, which will be a great
deal prettier when the sun shines. At Monk's Risborough, which
is a very little village, we do not stop, but go still farther on to a
very pleasant country house, where we have arranged to stay for
a week or so.
There we shall find what English people are at home, and- 1 am
sure we shall like them very much. The lady of the house greets
us very cordially, and immediately wishes to know if we will have
some tea, which is presently served to us, accompanied by thin
slices of bread and butter. The English are very fond of tea, and
at whatever hour of the afternoon we visit them, we are very sure
of getting some. Here we shall be pleasantly lodged, and every
day we shall have four good meals : breakfast about nine o'clock,
— not the simple meal of bread and coffee to which we were accus
tomed on the Continent, but plenty of ham or bacon, eggs, marma
lade, water-cress or some such green thing, tea and coffee, toast
and bread and butter, but no hot fresh bread. At two o'clock we
have dinner, very much like a good country dinner at home ; and if
any of us are fond of gooseberry or apple tarts, we shall probably
think that we never tasted any better than those we have here. In
England a " pie " means pastry with meat, such as a veal, a pork,
or a chicken pie, while pastries with fruit are called tarts. At five
o'clock the tea-bell rings, when we sit around a table well supplied
with bread and butter, several kinds of cake, and preserves, while

IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 1 85
the lady of the house sits behind a teapot and a hot-water pot,
each covered with a great embroidered " cosey," like a giant's night
cap, and these are kept on when the tea is not being poured out,
so that it has no chance to get cool. Between eight and nine we
have supper, which is a substantial meal, consisting of cold meat,
with lettuce or some other salad, bread and butter, and cheese, and
for those who like malt liquors, plenty of brown stout and ale, but
no tea or coffee. We might imagine that such a meal at this
hour would interfere with our night's sleep, but in this country
it does not seem to do so. It is asserted that there is some
thing in the climate of England which enables people to eat
and drink more without injury than they can in our drier and
thinner air. Among people in high life, in country as well as town,
it is customary to have very late dinners, but we are concerned
with the ordinary rural life of what is called the English middle
class. The next morning we start out to see the country, and the first
place we go to is Monk's Risborough. This little village, or hamlet,
was once part of the property of the monks of Canterbury, and so
came by its name. It is one of the quaintest and most old-fash
ioned villages in England. Most of the houses are cottages inhab
ited by poor people. The roofs are thatched, and the windows,
which are very small, and open on hinges like doors, have little
panes, about six inches high, set in leaden strips. Many of these
cottages have vines running over their sides and projecting gable-
ends, and pretty little gardens. On the outskirts of the village
there are a few large and pleasant-looking houses belonging to the
"gentle-folk." One of these is the rectory; and not far away is
the church, a very old one, which gives us an idea of what village
churches were a few centuries ago.
On the pews there are some very curious old carvings, and on

1 86 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
a large screen there are twelve panels, nine of which are now occu
pied by pictures ; each of these represents a man clad in furs and
velvet, and although they were painted so long ago that nobody
knows exactly whom they were intended to represent, there can be
but little doubt that they were meant for the twelve apostles, all
the panels originally having been filled.
Near the village schoolhouse stands the dwelling of the school
master, which is so very pretty, so very small, and so very neat, and
has so prim and tidy a little flower-garden in front of it, that if
baby houses for grown people came packed in boxes, we might
imagine that this had been freshly taken out of one. As we look
upon this little village — and it will take us but a short time to see
the whole of it — the first impression that it will make upon most
of us will be, that although all this is, in reality, new to us, we have
been very familiar with it in books and pictures.
As we walk along the broad highway which leads from the
village, we meet a man who may perhaps surprise us. This is a
letter-carrier, with his bag, briskly walking away into the open
country. The nearest post-office is at Prince's Risborough, some
miles away ; but here he is, delivering letters at the farmhouses
and country seats in the neighborhood, and when he goes back he
will collect them from the little box set up against a garden wall
in the village. This is very different from what we see in our
country, where it is only in cities that letters are delivered, and in
some large towns persons who want their letters must go to the
post-office for them. But in England letters are delivered every
where, and even in the quietest country place people can have the
pleasure of hearing the postman's knock at the door. Some of
these carriers must take very long walks, but English people do
not appear to object to that sort of thing. Two young girls, the
daughters of our hostess, will, at any time, step over to Prince's

IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 1 87

Risborough and back, a distance of more than five miles, and think
nothing of it.
But we shall want to see so much in this beautiful county of
Bucks, that we shall not be content with walking ; and the next
morning we will set out for a good long drive, some of us in a
" fly," and some in little pony carriages, which last we can hire for
about three shillings a day, if we drive ourselves and give the horse
some beans for a midday meal. The day is clear and bright, and
we see that even in this well-sprinkled isle it is possible to have
blue sky and sunny air. The country we pass through is gently
rolling, with here and there hills of considerable height. Many of
the fields are covered with rich, luxuriant grass, and those which
are cultivated look very small compared with American grain and
corn fields ; but these little plats are so carefully tilled that the
product from one of them is often quite as great as that from one
of our very much larger fields. But, on the other hand, we see
good-sized fields planted with vegetables which with us are gener
ally grown in gardens, such as beans, which are largely used for
horse and cattle feed. Speaking of corn, we find that in England
this name is given to wheat, rye, barley, and other kinds of grain.
In America the maize which our forefathers found was called
Indian corn to distinguish it from the other grains ; and when its
cultivation became very general, we called it simply corn, and
ceased to apply that name to any other kind of grain. We do not
see this crop in England, although it has been introduced into
some parts of the Continent.
Many of the roads we drive over are just wide enough for two
vehicles to pass each other, and are almost always bordered on each
side by luxuriant hedges, often ten or twelve feet high. These
are composed largely of hawthorn bushes ; and as it is now the
early part of June, these bushes are covered with lovely white and

1 88 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
sometimes light pink blossoms. Driving between these long lines
of dainty-flowering and sweet-smelling rows of hedges is very
delightful. It is true that the tall hedges cut off some of our
view ; but the hawthorn bushes, with here and there a pretty clump
of green trees, are enough to look at for a time. After a while we
come out upon the brow of a hill and on a wider road where the
hedges have been clipped ; and here, stretching around us, are
miles and miles of lovely English scenery. What we principally
see are green fields divided by hedge-rows, and masses of trees and
shrubbery all richly green, and of luxuriant growth. We seldom
see rows of fences, or wide, unshaded stretches of pasture-land.
The country is so pretty and so picturesque that one might think
it had been laid out and planted like a landscape garden or a park
simply to make it look beautiful ; but, of course, this is not the
case, for the farmers of England, like most other farmers, prefer
the useful to the ornamental. But centuries of careful cultivation
and rain, added to a considerable degree of good taste on the part
of the great proprietors, have made England the lovely country
that it is.
On the side of a high, long hill lies a very pretty little village
called Whiteleaf, and above it, flat against the green slope of the
hill, we see an immense white cross. It is so large that it is visible
at a distance of many miles. It looks as if it were about a quarter
of a mile long, and it is formed by cutting away the green turf
and exposing the white chalk, which, in this part of the country,
lies directly underneath the top soil. This work was done by an
antiquarian society, to commemorate a great battle fought here
between the Danes and Saxons. The society owns the land, and
has appropriated funds to keep the cross always white, and clean
from grass and weeds.
Among the things which will appear novel to us will be the

IN ENGLISH COUNTRY.

189

great number of little public-houses, or inns, which we shall see
scattered about the country, generally at the junction of two roads.
These have signs with their names, such as " The Three Crowns,"

A VILLAGE INN.

" The White Hart," " The Swan," " The Plough and Harrow,"
for instance, and a picture of these objects painted thereon. Eng
lish people drink a great deal of beer and ale, and no matter how
secluded and quiet the spot may be where we find one of these

190 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
inns, we shall generally see a wagon or a two-wheeled spring-cart
standing outside, while the owner is refreshing himself within.
Another thing which makes country driving here different from
what it is at home, and not only different, but very much more
safe and pleasant, is the fact that wherever a road crosses a railroad
track, it either goes over it by a bridge or under it by a tunnel.
There is no driving across the rails ; and the tall sign, with " Look
out for the locomotive " upon it, is unnecessary here.
We are not going anywhere in particular this morning, and
merely drive wherever our fancy leads us. We pass cottages with
thatch on them sometimes a foot thick; large farmhouses, and now
and then a private residence, generally standing back, and well
shaded by trees ; and we drive through two villages, not far from
each other, called Great Kimball and Little Kimball. In the
former is a handsome old church, built of small stones very oddly
arranged, which is interesting to us, not only on account of*, its
appearance, but because in the churchyard around it began the
great English revolution of the seventeenth century. Here Crom
well, Ireton, and Hampden met and arranged their plans and
projects. Not far away is Hampden Park, a large estate which once
belonged to John Hampden, but is now the property of the Earl
of Buckinghamshire. There is a road through this park which is
free to the public, and you may be sure we shall drive through it.
The park is very extensive, and we are immediately struck by the
magnificent appearance of the trees. Some of the great beeches
are as round and symmetrical as if they had been trimmed, and the
foliage everywhere is very thick and heavy. Although the park,
in portions, is so thickly wooded that it seems like a little forest,
the trees are well cared for, and each one is allowed to have plenty
of room to expand itself in a natural and symmetrical way. At a

AV ENGLISH COUNTRY. 191

distance we catch a view of the house, and not far away from it
we see a curious-looking tree called a copper-beech, the leaves of
which are of the color of a bright English penny. These trees are
comparatively rare, and but a few of them are to be found in this
county. In an open sunny space we notice, not far from the road,
standing among the thick grass, two handsome birds as large as
our ordinary poultry. They are pheasants, and do not appear to
be in the least disturbed at seeing us. They probably know that
no one will be allowed to harm them except in the game season,
which will not arrive for several months. The laws regarding
game are very strict in England, and even in the shooting season
no one who does not " preserve " game, as the rearing and care of it
is here called, is allowed to kill a rabbit, a partridge, or a pheasant,
even on his own property. All such game is considered to belong
to those persons in the neighborhood who have " preserves." If
a rabbit should come into the garden of the house where we are
staying, and be found eating the cabbages, it may be driven away ;
but if the owner of the garden should catch or kill it, he would be
subject to a penalty.
It must not be supposed that the great proprietors are always
stingy about their game. On one of the estates of the Prince of
Wales each poor man is allowed to come to the house every day
in the shooting season, and get one rabbit. He is perfectly wel
come to the animal when it is dead, for the prince and his friends
could not possibly eat all they shoot ; but if he should presume
to deprive the owner of the pleasure of killing it, he would be a
poacher and be put in prison.
As we drive on we see, to the left, a beautiful open glade,
the sides of which are perfectly parallel, running for about a mile
through the thick woods. When Queen Elizabeth once made a
visit here, and was about to return to London, this opening was

192 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
cut through the park as a road by which her Majesty might reach
the highway in the most direct manner, and so have a shorter
journey to London. This royal road was only used on this occa
sion, and the wide avenue is now covered with rich grass and is
called Queen Elizabeth's Glade.
After driving a mile or two among the grand old trees of the
park, we come out upon a public road and soon reach Hampden
Common, which is a wide, open space, covered with short grass
and, in places, with heavy growths of gorse, which is a short,
prickly bush just beginning to show large masses of yellow flowers.
On the edge of the open space we see some cottages, and, although
all the land here is the property of the earl, the poor people living
in these have a right, which has been possessed for generations,
to the use of this common for grazing and other purposes. Wan
dering about on the short grass, we may see a great many flocks
of ducks, most of them young, downy, and as yellow as canary
birds. The raising of ducks is a great industry among the poor
people in this part of the country, which is not far from Aylesbury,
the home of a very famous breed of ducks. A number of beau
tiful sheep, with black heads and legs, are grazing not far from
us ; and as this is one of the English commons about which we
have so often read, we naturally look for a gypsy encampment.
This we do not see, although it is quite probable that if we were to
come some other day we might find one.
We return home by the way of Prince's Risborough, which is
quite a little town, consisting mainly of a long street of old-fash
ioned two-story houses with queer gables and brass knockers, a
funny little market-house in an open space to one side, and rather
more houses of entertainment for man and beast than there seem
to be men and beasts to entertain.
On another day we shall take a drive of about eight miles to

AV ENGLISH COUNTRY. 193
^___  i 
Hughenden, which was the residence of the late Benjamin Disraeli,
afterward Lord Beaconsfield. Our way takes us through a variety
of pretty shaded lanes, with now and then an open road ; and
sometimes we pass a perfectly green lane, entirely covered with
short, thick turf, along which it must be very pleasant to wander
on foot. When we reach Hughenden Park we first visit the
church, at the back of which is the tomb of the famous novelist
and statesman. On the wall of the church is a tall tablet contain
ing a long inscription in praise of the great man's wife, but not a
word to indicate that he himself was anybody in particular.
Other parts of the churchyard are occupied by old, old graves
and tombstones, and in it stands a picturesque thatched cottage,
in which the sexton lives. Farther on is the rectory, a remarkably
pretty house, surrounded by fine grounds and shrubbery ; and we
soon reach the mansion of Hughenden, which, although a very
large house, is not pretentious- looking nor very handsome. We
pass through great gates of ornamental iron-work, surmounted by
the gilded crown and castle of the Disraeli coat-of-arms.
The grounds immediately around the house are kept in very
fine order ; the broad gravel drive is as smooth and hard as a floor,
while the grass is cut and rolled so that there does not seem to be
a single blade more than half an inch high. Instead of a portico,
we see on each side of the entrance-door, which is but a step above
the ground, a large space, enclosed with great panes of plate-glass,
filled with most beautiful flowers and tropical plants, which give a
very cheerful and bright appearance to the house.
We are met at the door by a neat little woman dressed in
black, who is the housekeeper, and looks at first in a rather for
bidding way ; but when she hears we are Americans who wish to
see the house, she smiles very pleasantly and invites us to walk in.
English country houses, during the absence of their owners, are
13

194 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
generally shown to respectable visitors. This house is occupied
at present by a gentleman who will live here until the nephew of
the late owner comes of age, but the house is kept in the same
condition that it was when Lord Beaconsfield was alive. It is
furnished with simple elegance, but there is nothing grand or
gorgeous about it, such as we might expect to see in the home
of the man who wrote " Lothair," and who made his Queen the
Empress of India. There is a room which was furnished for
Queen Victoria, when she made a visit here, and some of the girls
may take an interest in a chair which was embroidered by the
Princess Beatrice.
When we have taken leave of the housekeeper, and have
dropped some silver into her hand, we drive out through another
part of the park and go on a few miles farther to the important
town of Wycombe ; and here we have an opportunity of seeing an
English country town on market-day. Many of the houses are
very old-fashioned, having upper stories projecting two or three
feet over the sidewalk, with funny little shops beneath. The main
street is very wide, and to-day very busy ; everywhere we see
farmers who have come, some in spring-carts and some on horse
back ; all sorts of people are walking among the vehicles, and a
great part of the street is occupied by little pens in which sheep
or calves are confined, while cows are standing by the curbstone
— the purchasers and sellers talking and shouting around them.
Passing the live-stock, we see large spaces in the street covered
with cheap tin and wooden ware ; and, besides these, there are
displays of dry goods and all sorts of things which country people
would come to town to buy. It is more like a fair than a market,
and, although we are rather late in the day to see the best of it, it
is a very bustling and interesting scene.
It is now time for ourselves and our horses to have something

AV ENGLISH COUNTRY. 195

to eat : so we go to the Red Lion Inn, over the door of which is
a great wooden lion, painted red, with a long, straight tail, with a
tuft at the end like a dust-brush. This is one of the old-time
inns, such as we read about in Dickens's stories. We drive under
an archway which leads back to the stables ; and on one side is
a door opening into the handsomely furnished bar, behind the
counter of which is a nice buxom Englishwoman ; and beyond this
is the tap-room, where the farmers sit down to drink their ale and
beer. We alight at the door to the right, which leads to the coffee-
room, a large room with a long, wide dining-table in the centre.
The furniture is heavy, but very comfortable, and the walls are
hung with a variety of pictures, a series of which show the vari
ous accidents which used to befall the old stage-coaches. We sit
around the table, and when a great joint of cold beef, the half of
a cheese, a loaf of bread, some butter, some lettuce and water-
cresses, and two or three pitchers of brown stout or ale have been
placed before us, the waiter goes away, and leaves us to eat and
drink as much as we please. This is the usual fashion in the
English inns ; a portion is not brought to each one, but we cut
what we like from the joint, the loaf, and the cheese, and all are
charged the same, whether they eat little or much.
When we have eaten a hearty meal, and have looked at all
the dogs, horses, coaches, and portraits on the walls, we " tip " the
waiter, "tip" the hostlers who have taken care of our horses, "tip"
the bar-maid who brings us our change, and drive away home by a
different road from that we came.
We pass a beautiful park belonging to Lady Dashwood, which
extends for a long distance ; and not far from the road we see the
family mausoleum, which is a large temple-like building on the top
of a hill. It seems rather queer, afterward, to meet a common
cart with Lady Dashwood's name on it ; but all vehicles used for

196

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

draught on public roads in England must have painted upon them
the name of the owner, and 'we may sometimes see an earl's name
upon a hay-wagon or a cart loaded with gravel. Some of the
famous and wealthy family of Rothschild live in this county, and

A QUIET BIT OF ENGLISH COUNTRY.

whenever we pass one of their farm gates we see the initials of the
owner painted upon it. In our country it is very seldom that we
can find out in this way the owners of the estates we see.
Very often, when we pass a cottage by the roadside, we notice,
through the open door, a woman with a little pillow on her lap,
making lace. A great deal of lace of a pretty but not very expen-

AV ENGLISH COUNTRY. 197

sive kind is made by the poor women in this part of the country,
but they do not get much money by it. Near some of these
cottages we meet three or four little girls, coarsely but neatly
dressed, who are coming home from school. We are amused to
see them form into line, and each drop us a little bob of a courtesy,
the motion being very much like that of a fishing-cork when a
big perch has just given the line a pull. As a rule, however,
the country people we meet take little notice of us, one way or
another. English people, rich and poor, are very fond of flowers, and
nearly every cottage has its little garden full of blooming plants
and shrubs. It is true that many of the flowers are of very old-
fashioned and common kinds, but they are none the less pretty
for that. On another day we will drive to Wendover, which is a very
interesting and pretty village, full of Queen Anne cottages. There
are plenty of cottages of this style around the suburbs of our large
cities ; but those we see here were built in Queen Anne's time,
and I doubt if the village has changed very much since the days
of that good lady. If we happen to want any postage-stamps, or
some pens and paper, it will be well for us to go into a little shop,
which is also the post-office, and see what a queer place an English
country shop may be, with its low ceiling, its woodwork darkened
by time, its little windows, and the neat old woman with white cap
and apron who waits on us.
When we have driven and walked as much as we please through
this beautiful county of Bucks, we shall have a good idea of Eng
lish country life where the influence of railroads and cities is little
felt. But we could go into other country places, and find scenes
and people very different from those among which we have been.
Although England is so small, there is much variety in her land-

198 PERSONALLY. CONDUCTED.
scape and country, as well as in the manners and customs of the
people. We shall visit various places of interest in England, but I can
speak of but one of them now. This is Warwick Castle (here
pronounced Worrick), which once belonged to the famous Earl of
Warwick, the " king-maker." As the family is away (nearly all
great country families are in London at this season of the year),
we can visit this celebrated castle and get an idea of high life in
the English country, both as it is to-day and as it was in the
Middle Ages.
This immense building is the finest feudal castle now remaining
in England. It stands upon a high rocky bluff overlooking the
River Avon ; and when we have walked up through the grounds,
we see before us the huge battlements and towers of a real baro
nial castle. On one side of the entrance is Caesar's Tower, which
dates back to the Norman Conquest ; on the other side is Guy's
Tower, a fortress one hundred and eighty feet high, with walls ten
feet thick. Between these is the arched gateway, with an ancient
portcullis armed with spikes, which, by the orders of the present
earl, who likes to keep up everything in the olden fashion, is let
down and bolted every night. The inner court is a wide, grassy
square, surrounded by the towers and buildings of the castle.
We first enter the great hall, which is large and lofty enough
for a church. All around the walls we see spears, battle-axes, and
other weapons belonging to the ancient earls, some of them once
used by the great Guy of Warwick, who lived in the tenth century,
and who is said to have been nearly eight feet high. In this hall
is an immense iron pot, which is called Guy's punch-bowl. From
this room we look, for a distance of three hundred feet, through a
line of splendid apartments. These rooms, called the red drawing-
room, the gilt drawing-room, and so on, are furnished in the most

IN ENGLISH COUNTRY. 1 99
costly and magnificent manner, many of the tables and other
furniture being lavishly inlaid with silver and valuable stones.
Farther on we come to the state bedroom, which was once
used by Queen Anne, and among the other interesting things in
the room we see the queen's trunk, which, although a very large
and fine one for those days, is as different in weight and strength
from our trunks as one of our houses is from one of her fortresses.
All these rooms contain valuable paintings by old and modern
artists, besides works of art in bronze and marble ; and when we
reach the corner room, and look out of the window, we find we are
almost level with the top of a great cedar of Lebanon which is
growing on the river-bank beneath us. We shall want to stop
in the armory, which is a long passage, crowded on each side with
weapons of many kinds — battle-axes, swords, spears, daggers, old-
fashioned flint-lock guns, bows and arrows, and some arms of a
more modern date. After passing through some other fine rooms,
we go out again into the courts, where a great peacock is walking
about on the grass, looking as proud as if he were one of the
armed knights who with squires and pages were so often seen there
in days gone by.
The town of Warwick is very interesting in itself, and when
we enter it from the west it is by a gate which leads us directly
through an old church-tower.
A most interesting place is the old Leicester Hospital, which
was founded by that Robert Dudley whom Queen Elizabeth made
Earl of Leicester, and who will be well remembered by every one
who has read Scott's novel " Kenilworth." It was one of his few
good deeds. This hospital supports twelve old soldiers and their
wives. It is a beautifully picturesque group of old half-timber
buildings, in excellent preservation, and is now very much what it
was in the sixteenth century. In the kitchen, which is the com-

200 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
mon sitting-room, hangs a piece of embroidery worked by Amy
Robsart. English country life in grand castles, and in the mansions of
the aristocracy and the upper classes, is very different from what ,
we have seen. It is, in fact, more stately, more luxurious, and
more costly than life in town. The great houses are filled with
visitors during the country season, and hospitality is generally
extended on a magnificent scale, with the finest cooks, fashionable
hours for meals, and all sorts of entertainments. The life we have
been leading is simply that of well-to-do people in rural England.

XI.

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.
WE are now about to make an excursion from London, which
will be quite an extensive one, embracing Holland, and
Belgium, and a part of Germany. As this is to be what
is called a round trip, in which we shall not stop very long in any
one place, we will take with us only valises, or such baggage as we
can carry in our hands. We leave London about eight o'clock in
the evening, and go by train to Harwich (pronounced Harridge).
If we were to make a journey at this hour in America we should
not see much of the country ; but in England the twilight lasts a
long time, and in this season of early summer one can see to read
in the open air at nine o'clock, and it is not really dark for an hour
afterward, so that we can see as much of the rural scenery of the
county of Essex as we choose to look at. At Harwich our train
takes us directly to the steamship landing, and there we find a
vessel ready to sail for Antwerp, and another for Rotterdam, and
our tickets allow us to go by either way and come back by the
other. We choose to visit Holland first, and so go in the direc
tion of the signboard painted Rotterdam, and take the steamer for
that place. Our trip across the German Ocean will probably be a
pleasant one, for these waters are generally smooth at this season,
and we shall go to our berths soon after we start, and, it is to be
hoped, sleep soundly all the night.
When we wake in the morning we find ourselves in the river
Maas, on which the city of Rotterdam is situated. On each side

202 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED..
of us lies the queer country of Holland, and the views we have
are unlike any we have ever seen before, or are likely to see again
except in this same country of the Dutch. The land is flat, and
would be uninteresting, except for the fact that it is lower than
the surface of the river on which we are sailing. There must be
an interest attached to this country when we consider that if the
great dykes, or banks, on each side of the river were broken down,
even for a comparatively short distance, the whole land would soon
be covered with water, and become a part of the German Ocean.
The people of Holland are always on their guard to keep out that
ocean, and if ever there is danger from storms, or unusual tides,
the alarm-bells are rung, and men and women flock out by day or
night to help mend any breach that may be made by the water.
This German Ocean, or North Sea, backed up by its allies, the
Arctic and the Atlantic Ocean, is an enemy which is continually
laying siege to Holland. If it should ever destroy the strong for
tifications which she has thrown up to defend herself, good-by to
the populous, fertile, and. rich land of the Dutch !
We sail on for several hours, passing a little fortified town
where the custom-house officers come on board to examine our
baggage, and every now and then we see small houses, and some
times villages, not far from the river. After a time we notice a
town some distance back, which seems to be a great manufacturing
place, judging from the smoke above it. This is Schiedam, where
the inhabitants devote themselves principally to making gin. The
town is a small one, but it contains about two hundred distilleries,
and it gets very rich by supplying the whole world with Holland
gin. Everywhere, scattered about the country, we have seen wind
mills, their great arms moving slowly around. But of these Schie
dam seems to have more than its share, for around about this town
we can count at least sixty of them. After steaming for several

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.

203

hours over this
reach the city
of Rotterdam,
where our
steamer stops.
We shall
not make a
long stay at
Rotterdam,
but in a few
hours we can
see a great
deal that is
novel and
curious. The
quays, which
stretch for
more than a
mile along
the river, are
busy and
lively places,
for Rotter-
dam does a
great trade
with the East
and other
parts of the
world, and
from here
most of the Du

smooth river and between these flat lowlands, we

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/r//i./\s / 7/,,\:'/f.

.../¦;

¦ ¦ /.

f /
tS/'fyfti
,r'rif ' , ¦' ',
A DUTCH WINDMILL.
tch emigrants start for America. The houses are
204 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

extremely clean and neat, many of them four and five stories high,
and most of them so constructed that the lower stories can be shut
up and made water-tight in case the river should break through
the dykes. There are so many canals in this city, that Rotterdam
has been called "a vulgar Venice." These canals are crossed by
a great many drawbridges, and in some of our walks we may have
to wait while a ship or barge is passing. On some canals these
vessels are obliged to pay toll, and we shall be amused to see how
this is collected. The toll-man stands on the bridge with a pole
and a line, to the end of which a little bag is attached. This he
hol'ds as if he were fishing, and lowers the bag to the people in the
boat, who put their money into it.
From Rotterdam we will go by the railroad to The Hague,
which is the capital of Holland, and on the way we pass Delft, a
town once famous for its pottery, and which is interesting to Amer
icans from the fact that it is the place from which the Pilgrim
Fathers started on the voyage which ended at Plymouth Rock.
And here we find that even in Holland we cannot get rid of the
ancient Romans. From Delft to The Hague there is a canal
which was made by that everywhere-turning-up people. The
Hague is a large and handsome city, but we shall be most inter
ested in its museum, where there is a very fine art gallery. Here
we see paintings principally by the great Dutch and Flemish mas
ters, among which are some of the finest works of Rembrandt, and
of David Teniers, Wouverman, and other celebrated painters.
We now go by rail to Amsterdam, which is the largest city of
Holland, and where we shall make our longest stay. One reason
why we shall not do much lingering in Holland is that it is a very
expensive country for travellers, and when we compare what we
are here charged at hotels and other places with the exceedingly
reasonable prices of Italy and Switzerland, we feel inclined to see

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 205

all there is to see, and get on to some country where the land is
not so low and the charges are not so high.
Amsterdam is a city of canals, and yet we are not constantly
impressed that it is a water city, as we are in Venice. The town
lies at the end of the Y, which is a gulf of the Zuyder Zee ; and
there are several great canals, shaped like the segments of concen
tric circles, intersected by some three hundred smaller canals ; and
yet there are so many streets and squares, and places where we
can drive about as freely as in any other city, that there really
is little comparison between Amsterdam and the horseless city of
the Adriatic. Most of the houses are very tall, very narrow, and
stand with their gable-ends to the street. These gables are gen
erally built in an ornamental form, and present a very odd and
varied appearance. At the top of nearly every house we see a
projecting beam, with a rope and tackle, by which heavy goods,
marketing, fuel, and such household commodities are drawn up
from the street or canal below to the various floors. This saves a
great deal of trouble in getting up-stairs.
As we walk or drive about we shall not be likely to forget that
this is a Dutch town. The front doors of the houses, some of
which are approached by little flights of steps that run up side
ways, while others are so low that they look as if part of the door
was below the street, have such bright brass plates and knobs, and
everything looks so clean and fresh, that I should not be sur
prised to be told that the lower part of every house-front was
washed and polished every day ; and if we should see, standing
in the doorway, a Dutch maid-servant, she would very likely be
as clean and bright and fresh as the houses, which is saying a
great deal. On many of the doors of private dwellings we see
the names of the occupants painted in good large letters, and
this shows that when Dutch people go into a house they expect

206

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

to stay there, and do not move about as much as the inhabitants
of that city they founded on Manhattan Island.
There are over three hundred thousand people here, and we
see a great
many of them
both in the
streets and on
the canals.
There is
nothing very
striking in
the dress of
the working-
men, but some
1 ¦' of the women
are curiously
attired, espe-
¦-. cially those who
come in from the
country. The women
of the different prov
inces are known by
their head-dresses,
and some of these appear as if
the originators of them had puz
zled their brains to see what
queer and fantastic head-gear
they could devise. Golden or
naments and plates are very frequently seen, some with spiral
twists in front like golden curls. These adornments, with heavy
silver or golden earrings, are often the principal part of a

A HOUSE ON THE DUNES.

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 207

woman's property, and descend from mother to daughter for gen
erations. There is a large park here, where we may meet the Dutch
aristocracy, who are very fine-looking people, driving about in
their handsome carriages. On a street near by is a very curious
house which we must visit. It is built and furnished in the fashion
of an old Dutch house of two or three centuries ago. It is full of
all sorts of old furniture, coins, books, and other interesting relics of
olden times. There is a bedroom, furnished in a queer ancient style,
with old-fashioned clothes, and so on, hanging about, and a queer
cradle with the cap and socks of a baby whose great-grandchildren
probably died of old age long ago. Down in the kitchen, the walls
of which are hung with all sorts of pots, pans, and other utensils,
while cheese-presses, scales, and such things stand on the polished
floor, we see a woman dressed in the olden fashion of a cook. She
wears a great gold plate on the back of her head, which makes
her look as if a piece of her skull had been taken out and this set
in its place.
One of the great industries of Amsterdam is the cutting and
polishing of diamonds ; and nearly all the finest diamonds in the
world are brought here to be cut into shape. We will make a visit
to one of the principal diamond establishments, and when we get
there I think we shall be surprised to find a great factory, four or
five stories high, a steam-engine in the basement, and fly-wheels,
and leather bands, and all sorts of whirring machinery in the differ
ent stories. On the very top floor the diamonds are finished and
polished, and here we see skilful workmen sitting before rapidly
revolving disks of steel, against which the diamonds are pressed
and polished. It requires great skill, time, and patience before one
of these valuable gems is got into that shape in which it will best
shine, sparkle, and show its purity. Nearly half the diamonds pro-

208 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

duced in the world, the best of which come from Brazil, are sent to
this factory to be cut and polished. Here the great Koh-i-noor
was cut ; and we are shown models of that and of other famous
diamonds that were cut in these rooms.
From Amsterdam we go by rail to Cologne, a short day's journey.
For the first few hours the view is such as we may see nearly all
over Holland: broad flat fields without fences, but divided by ditches
and canals, stretch in every direction. Most of these are pasture
lands, on which great numbers of fine cattle are grazing. These
cows, which are all either black or white, or partly black and partly
white, belong to a breed of great milkers, and they look in excel
lent condition. Some of them, which probably have slight colds,
are nearly covered with cloth or canvas securely fastened around
them. Portions of the land are cultivated, and look very dark and
rich. Many of these fields have been reclaimed from the water
which used to cover this part of the country. The cottages and
farm-houses are generally small, and mixed up very closely with
cow-stables and barns. Sometimes we see pleasant-looking villas
and residences, and now and then we pass through towns and
villages. After a time we come to a part of the country chiefly
composed of sand-hills, or dunes, where the people have little to
depend upon but the fir-trees, the only things that easily grow here.
When a child is. born, a certain number of fir-trees are planted,
which will be its property when it grows up.
At the small town of Elton we pass from Holland into Germany,
and here our baggage is examined. Before long we reach the
River Rhine, which we cross on a steam ferry-boat, which is pro
pelled by a very odd sort of a wire cable. The train is run on
board this boat ; and when we reach the other side, a strong loco
motive comes down into the shallow water, on rails which are partly
submerged, and pulls us up the bank. This is not the first time

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.

209

we have crossed this famous river, which flows into the sea a little
north of The Hague, but we have heretofore merely passed over
it as if it had been any ordinary stream crossed by a railroad.
The Rhine, although quite broad, is not much to look at here, but

DINING-ROOM IN A DUTCH HOUSE.

we will wait and see what we shall see after a while. The porters
at the German railroad stations are dressed in such fine green
uniforms that we shall probably mistake them for some of the
higher officers of the road ; but when we see the conductors and
station-masters, who wear much finer uniforms, and who have more
military airs, we shall get the matter straight in our minds. The
14

2IO PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

railroad we are on does not, as in England, cross common roads
by bridges and tunnels, but all roads intersecting it are closed by
gates, and at every one of these, and at every little farm gate open
ing on the railroad, there stands an official, who, as the train passes,
draws himself up in military fashion, toes out, chin up, with a short
stick in his hand, which he holds as he would a gun. No one can
cross one of these railroads when a train is due.
Cologne is chiefly interesting to visitors on account of its
Cathedral and its Cologne water. To see the one and to buy
some of the other are the two great objects of travellers here.
But, apart from these principal attractions, we shall find the city
very interesting. Most of the streets are queer and old, some of
the houses dating from the thirteenth century ; and the Rhine,
which is here crossed by a long bridge of boats, presents a very busy
and lively scene with its craft of many kinds. As soon as we can
we will go to the Cathedral, which is the grandest Gothic church in
the world. It was begun in 1248, but was not finished until 1880.
It has two immense and beautiful spires, over five hundred feet
high, and nearly the whole outside is covered with lovely archi
tectural ornamentation and sculptures. Inside the immense build
ing is wonderfully beautiful and imposing. Light comes through
great stained-glass windows on either side, and from others, also
charmingly colored, high up near the arches of the roof. There
is a great deal to be seen in the chapels and other portions of this
church. In the reliquary are kept the "three kings of Cologne,"
which are believed to be the bones of the Magi who came to do
reverence to the Infant Jesus. These were taken from Jerusalem
by the Empress Helena, and presented to the Cathedral by the
Emperor Barbarossa in 1164. We may look through some open
work in the sarcophagus, and see the three heads, or skulls, of
the kings, each wearing a golden crown.

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.

21 I

The real Cologne water is made by Johann Maria Farina, but
when we go out to buy some, we may be a little perplexed by find
ing that there are some thirty or forty people of this name, all of

THE CATHEDRAL OF COLOGNE.
whom keep shops for the sale of Cologne water. There are a great
many descendants of the original inventor of this perfume, and
the law does not permit anyone to assume the name who does not
belong to the family ; but the boy babies of the Farinas are gener
ally baptized Johann Maria, so that they can go into the Cologne

212 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
water business when they grow up. There are two or three shops
where the best and " original " water is sold, and at one of these
we buy some of the celebrated perfume, generally sold to travellers
in small wooden boxes containing four or six bottles, which we get
at a very reasonable price compared with what we have to pay for
it in America. We cannot take much more than this, because
Cologne water is classed as spirits by the custom-house authorities
in England, and each traveller is allowed to bring only a small
quantity of it into that country.
The most beautiful part of the celebrated and romantic River
Rhine lies between Bonn, not far above Cologne, and the little
town of Bingen ; and to see this world-famed river at its best, we
must make a trip upon it on a steamboat. It takes much longer
to go up the river than to come down with the current ; and so we
go to Bingen by rail, stay there all night, and make our Rhine
voyage the next day.
" Fair Bingen on the Rhine," of which most of us have read in
Mrs. Norton's poem about "the soldier of the Legion" who "lay
dying at Algiers," is a very pretty little town on the river bank,
nearly opposite the Niederwald, a low mountain, on the side of
which stands the immense monumental statue of Germania. This
great monument was recently erected in commemoration of the
unity of the German Empire. If we choose, we can cross the river,
go up the mountain, and inspect this monument; but we get a very
good view of it from where we are.
The next morning we go on board a large and handsome steam
boat, and begin a river trip which has been more talked about,
written about, and sung about, than any other in the world.
The portion of the Rhine, about a hundred miles in length,
over which we shall pass to-day, lies between low hills and moun
tains, some of which are precipitous and rocky, some gently sloping

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.

213

down into the water, the sides of nearly all of them planted in vine
yards, varied by verdant pasture lands, trees, and picturesque bits
of forest. Sometimes the mountains recede from the shore, leaving

Jflpf

room for a
town or vil-
1 ag e , and
sometimes the
houses seem
as well satis
fied upon the hill- °'"
side as on the level
ground. High up,
on projecting bluffs,
and occasionally on the very mountain-tops, stand the ruins of
great castles of the olden times. Some of these consist of but a
few storm-battered towers and walls ; while others, which have

Jt-<tJSa£&?£Z'lyir*te!Ak''- ¦,-.--V'"'lr5'^"%§©.'' -%¦¦'

THE CASTLE OF RHEINSTEIN.

214 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
successfully defied man, time, and storms, are still in such good
condition as to be inhabited. These were the castles and strong
holds of the feudal barons and the robber chiefs of history, song,
and legend ; and they give to the natural beauties of the Rhine a
charm which is not possessed by any other river. As our boat
goes on over the swiftly-flowing stream, stopping at many points,
every turn of the river shows us some new combination of land
scape, and some different beauty.
Soon after beginning our trip we pass, upon a little island in
the river, an ancient stone tower, which is called the Mouse
Tower. There is an old story connected with this tower, about
a certain bishop who, long ago, for his cruelty to his people in
time of famine, was devoured here by hordes of rats or mice.
Not far away, and high above us, stand the ruins of the tower
of Ehrenfels, built in 1210. Very soon we see the grand Castle
of Rheinstein, whose towers and turrets and walls, some of which
have been restored, stand as they stood six hundred years ago.
A great iron basket, or brazier, once used as a beacon-light, still
hangs from the outer walls, three hundred feet above the river.
Further on is the Castle of Falkenberg, once famous as the home
of the robber knights. The towns of the Rhine united against
these much-feared marauders, and nearly destroyed their castle
in 1 25 1, but they went back again, and the place was afterward
captured by Rudolph of Hapsburg, who hung the robber knights
from the windows.
We are now passing regions of vineyard, where some of the
most famous wines of the world are produced, and, although we
may be astonished to see on what steep hills and mountain-sides
the vines are growing, we would have been still more surprised if
we could have seen the manner in which some of these vineyards
were made. Many of them are on high, rocky terraces, to which

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 215

the earth has been laboriously carried in baskets on the backs of
men and women. Some of these vineyards are so steep that it
would seem that the vine-growers must stand upon ladders in
order to hoe and cultivate the ground, and in some places we may
think it even impossible for the laborers to stick to their work.
The vines are so carefully pruned, that they do not conceal the
tilled ground, and the mountains and hillsides would be much
prettier in grass, forest, and beetling crags than in vineyards ; but
the wine from this region is so valuable that if the vines could be
made to grow everywhere, all the land we see would be covered
with vineyards.
We soon pass one of the oldest castles on the Rhine ; it was
built in 1015. It has gone through a great many troubles, but has
recently been put into good order, and is one of the country resi
dences of the royal family of Prussia.
On we go, sometimes passing little towns, one of which, Lorch,
has been mentioned in history for more than a thousand years ;
more castles appear on the cliffs, among them Nollingen, standing
nearly six hundred feet above us, at the summit of a jagged cliff
called "The Devil's Ladder," up which, the legends say, a brave
knight rode on his gallant steed to rescue a lady from the gnomes
of the mountain. Now and then we pass an island, on one of
which stands a strangely fortified little castle, and after a time
we come to the famous " Rocks of Lurlei," which rise to a great
height above a swift and dangerous whirlpool. Here, the stories
tell us, a siren used to sit and sing songs to passing voyagers, who,
when they stopped to listen to her, were drawn into the whirl
pool. As there is no danger of the captain of our steamboat stop
ping for any such tomfoolery, not even the youngest of us need be
afraid at passing this grewsome place.
Near the town of St. Goar stands the immense Castle of Rhein-

2l6 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
fels, the largest on the Rhine, and it presents a grand and imposing
appearance, although it is much in ruins, having had hard times in
many wars.
More castles now come in sight, more mountains, more vine
yards, and more little villages, two of them particularly picturesque,
being united by a long double row of trees. Flourishing towns,
too, we pass, some of them quite busy places ; and, after a time,
we see the gloomy old Castle of Marksburg, fuller of dungeons
and secret chambers and dark passages than any other here ; and
it looks gloomier yet when we know that it is still used as a
prison. We now reach Coblentz, a large and important old town, oppo
site which is the vast fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, which is one of
the largest and strongest in Europe, and is called " The Gibraltar
of the Rhine." It has stood there for centuries, and has sustained
many blockades and sieges. It is now greatly improved, and is
occupied by soldiers of the German Empire.
Neuendorf is a little town, from which start the great rafts of
the Rhine. These rafts are made up of smaller ones, which come
down from the timber regions along the river, and are of extraor
dinary size, being sometimes six hundred feet long, and two hun
dred wide, or as large as an up-town New York block. They carry
a great number of men, with their wives and children, who live in
little houses built on the rafts. They are steered by very long
oars, each held by a crowd of men ; and these floating islands, with
the scenes on them, will be sure to interest us.
The castles now become fewer, although we see some very fine
ruins, and one new and very large and handsome castle. The
scenery changes somewhat, and at one place there is a wide stretch
of level country. The village of Remagen will be interesting
because near it is the spring from which comes the famous Apolli-

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.

217

naris water. The little town is very busy, and boxes and bottles
abound. Near by, on a height, is a most beautiful little Gothic
church, built by the architect who finished Cologne Cathedral.

THE FORTRESS OF EHRENBREITSTEIN.

We also pass a point where Julius Caesar, when he was at work
conquering this part of the world, built the first bridge across the
Rhine. And in this connection I may say, that the business of
vine-growing on this river was started by the ancient Romans.

218 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
We now pass the Drachenfels, or Dragon's Rock, and enter
the region of the beautiful Seven Mountains ; and when we reach
the town of Bonn, we have gone over the most interesting and
picturesque part of the river. Here we leave the steamboat, and
take rail for Cologne, after a day on the Rhine, which I am sure
none of us will ever forget.
The next day we take the railroad for Brussels, and on the way
pass through some very picturesque portions of Belgium, and at
one point we are not very far from the battle-field of Waterloo.
Many persons risit this place to inspect the various monuments
erected there ; but, besides these, there is nothing to indicate that'
on these now peaceful fields one of the greatest battles of the world
was fought.
We find Brussels a cheerful, busy, and very handsome small-
sized city, something like a condensed Paris. Many of the streets
are wide and imposing, with tall houses of very attractive and orna
mental architecture ; while the shop windows are so numerous, and
so brightly and even splendidly filled, that we can but think of the
Palais Royal and the grand boulevards of the French capital.
Everywhere there is an air of gayety, fashion, and costliness.
There are a great many fine parks and open places, and long
avenues for driving, lined with trees. One of the public buildings,
the Palais de Justice, built for the courts of law, is a grand and
magnificent edifice. It cost twelve million dollars, and is one of
the finest buildings in Europe.
A small public square is surrounded by a very novel collection
of life-size bronze statues, representing the various trades. Here
is the baker with his loaves, the carpenter with his saws and ham
mers, the gardener with his spade and hoe, and nearly everybody
who works in Brussels can come here and see a bronze personifica
tion of his trade. Statues and monuments are frequent in the city,

THE HOTEL DE VILLE OF BRUSSELS.

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 221

and in whatever way money could be spent in making Brussels
beautiful, it has been spent.
In the Grande Place, where stands the Hotel de Ville, or Town
Hall, we see some of the fine buildings of olden times. The
Maison du Roi, or King's House, was built in the early part of the
sixteenth century, and many of the other tall houses belonged to
the guilds or wealthy trades-unions of the Middle Ages. This open
square is full of historical associations. Here tournaments and
pageants were held, here fierce fights took place, and here some
of the heroes of Belgium were executed. This place is in the old
part of the city, and is full of life, activity, and interest.
The "galleries," or long covered arcades, are full of attractive
shops and restaurants.
Brussels lace is celebrated all over the world, and we must not
fail to visit one of the "places where this beautiful and costly lace is
made. Here we see a number of women, very quiet, very neatly
dressed, and in some cases with wonderfully delicate and soft-
looking hands, although they are all plain working-women. Each
is busy fashioning the delicate pattern of a piece of lace ; and it is
said that each woman has a pattern of her own, which she always
makes, and which, perhaps, descended to her from her mother and
grandmother. Some of the women are working on cushions, with
pins and bobbins, and some are using needles and the finest and
most delicate of thread. We are told that this thread is all made
by hand, and it is so delicate that it has to be spun in damp cellars,
because in the dry upper air it would break before it is finished.
There are old women in Brussels who have spent nearly all their
lives spinning in cellars.
Brussels is a little city, but it is as bright, as handsome, and
in some respects as grand and splendid as if it were a large
one.

222 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
A very different city is Antwerp, distant only about an hour's
journey. This old Flemish town has long been a great commer
cial centre ; and, although Antwerp is very wealthy and very busy,
it has none of the modern splendors of Brussels. It is old-fash
ioned, quaint, and queer. In the more modern quarter there are
fine streets and avenues, with a park and zoological garden, yet it
is the old quarter of Antwerp which is most attractive to visitors.
Here the streets are generally narrow ; and the tall houses, with
their towering gable-ends so curiously notched and curved, stand
looking at one another, not with a fresh, bright air, as if they were
Dutch, but with a quiet manner which seems to say that they have
grown gray standing there, and cannot be expected to look bright
and fresh.
Antwerp lies on the River Scheldt, and its long water-front is
crowded with the ships of every nation. Not only do they crowd
the wharves and piers, but by means of short canals they come up
into large inland docks, where we can see all the different kinds of
ships that sail upon the sea. Everything in this part of the town
seems intended in some way for sailors, and the number of little
cabarets, or inns, where the hardy seamen can get something to eat
and drink, is indeed surprising.
The low, heavy trucks, on which barrels and bales and all sorts
of merchandise are carried to and from the ships, are drawn by
great Flemish horses, very heavy, very strong, and very well fed
and cared for. It is a pleasure to look at these fine creatures
gravely walking through the streets with great loads behind them
which they do not seem to think of at all. There is another class
of. animals used for draught purposes, which will perhaps attract
our attention more than the stout horses. These are the dogs
which help to pull the milk-carts about the city. The milk is in
bright brass cans and vessels, which are carried in a light hand-

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE.

223

cart generally pushed by a vigorous girl or woman. The dog

SKETCHES IN ANTWERP.

is fastened underneath, and, whether he be big or little, he pulls
with such a will that he makes the girl step along at a lively pace

224 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

Dogs are also harnessed to carts which carry about vegetables, ice
cream, and other wares. The ice-cream carts are generally dressed
off in gay colors to attract attention.
The young women of the lower classes go about the streets
without hats or bonnets, no matter what the weather may be, and
it is very pleasant to see them, with their neat dresses, and their
hair so smooth and tightly braided. Some of the older women
wear lace or muslin caps, with a great flap on each side like
elephant ears.
The Cathedral of Antwerp is a very fine one, and is remark
able for its beautiful spire, which is so curiously built in a sort of
net-work of stone that it has been likened to a piece of the lace-
work of the country. It is difficult to get a good idea of the out
side of the church, for houses, little and big, crowd around it on
all sides, sometimes squeezing close up to it, as if standing-room
were very scarce in Antwerp. This spire contains a famous chime
of bells, ninety-nine in number, the largest of which is such a mon
ster that it takes sixteen men to ring it, while the smallest is no
larger than a hand-bell. These chimes are rung very often, every
hour, every half hour, and every quarter of an hour, and a little
ring between the quarters. The bells are so harmonious, and have
so sweet a tone, that even if we should stay at a hotel quite near
the cathedral, we should not be disturbed by them ; and should we
wake in the night and hear the ringing of those musical bells, we
would merely turn over and dream the better for it. The interior
of the cathedral is very large, though rather plain, and contains
some remarkable life-size statues carved in wood, and Rubens's
greatest picture, " The Descent from the Cross," besides other
paintings by that master. Rubens belongs to Antwerp, and the
citizens are very proud of him. There is a fine statue of him in
one of the squares, and his paintings are to be found in every

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE RHINE. 225

church. In one of the churches he is buried, and the house where
he lived still stands.
In an open space, by the side of the cathedral, is Quentin
Matsys's Well, with its curious iron-work cover. The artist-black
smith is another son of Antwerp of whom she is proud.
The Museum, or Art Gallery, contains a very fine collection of
pictures by the Flemish school of artists, and among them a num
ber by Rubens and Van Dyck.
And now we betake ourselves to the river-front, and embark on
a handsome English vessel, and steam away down the broad River
Scheldt to the sea. As we look back we shall see for many miles
the tall and lace-like spire of the cathedral reaching up to the sky.
The river-banks are not very interesting, but we shall see some
forts of a rather curious construction, and when we reach Flushing,
near the mouth of the Scheldt, and when we have dropped into a
little boat the pilot who has guided us through the difficult chan
nel of the river, we sail out upon the German Ocean ; and early
the next morning we are at Harwich again, whence we take the
train for London, and our round trip is over.
15

XII.

THE PEOPLE WE MEET.

IN our travels in the various countries through which I have
conducted you, the people we have met have contributed very
much to the interest of our journey. The natives of these
countries attracted our attention because they were French or
Italian or German or Dutch, and had some national habits and
customs quite different from our own ; but in travelling about we
naturally saw a great deal of other travellers, and the peculiarities
of these people were very often odd and amusing.
You all remember that wherever we went it seemed impossible
to get rid of memorials of the ancient Romans, long dead and gone.
But we could not fail to notice that it was equally impossible to
get rid of the modern English and Americans, who, very much
alive, are to be found wherever we go. These two nations are
great explorers and travellers ; if there is anything worth seeing in
any part of the world, they wish to go there and see it. There are
now so many Anglo-Saxon tourists on the continent of Europe that
it has become necessary in all good hotels to have some person who
can speak English, and it is only in places which are seldom visited
that we can find no one to whom we can talk in our native tongue.
A German, Italian, or French waiter, who can speak English,
finds it much easier to obtain employment at good wages than
those who know only their own language ; and many Continental
waiters and barbers go to London, and serve there without pay,
for the sake of becoming acquainted with the English language.
French used to be, and is still, the language most general in

THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 227
Europe, and one who speaks it readily can travel almost anywhere,
and make himself understood ; but in many parts of Europe English
is now so generally taught in the schools, that it will not be long
before our language will be as useful to travellers as the French.
Although the English and we ourselves both speak the same
tongue, we do not speak it in the same way. An American in
London can seldom say five words before the English people who
may hear him will know that he came from across the Atlantic ;
and we, on our part, seldom mistake an Englishman for our coun
tryman. It is in the tones of the voice and the methods of pro
nunciation that the differences exist, and when we first hear Eng
lish people talking, and when they first hear us, there is often, I
am sorry to say, a little inclination on each side to indulge in ridi
cule ; but, if there were no other reason for refraining from such
impoliteness, we should do so because it stamps us as ignorant
people who have not travelled much.
Both Americans and English, like all patriotic people, believe
their respective countries to be the best in the world, and many of
them consider it necessary, when they are travelling, to show this.
Persons like these, however, be they Americans or English, do not
belong to the better class of travellers. The more we travel, and
the more we see of other nations, the better we become acquainted
with their merits and virtues. Their oddities and their faults
naturally are the first things which strike our attention ; but, if we
have seen nothing but these, it is a proof, either that we have not
travelled enough, or that we are not qualified to travel with advan
tage. The more the right kind of an American journeys, the more
he is likely to be satisfied that he is an American ; but the better
he becomes acquainted with other nations, and learns not only to
avoid their faults but to imitate their virtues, the greater advantage
is he to his own country.

2 28 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
Next to our own fellow-countrymen, I think we shall like the
English better than any other travellers we meet. Most of us
may remember that if our forefathers had not chosen to emi
grate to America we should now be English people ourselves ;
and, aside from any feeling of kinship, the English travellers we
meet, and in whose company we may be thrown, are likely, after
we become acquainted with them, to prove very good-natured and
pleasant people. As a rule, they are very well educated, and
speak French fluently, and often German ; but in almost every
case we shall find them lamentably ignorant about America. We
who have studied at school the geography and history of England,
and know just how that country is bounded, and what are its prin
cipal rivers and towns, besides a great deal about its peculiar
manners and customs, are naturally so surprised to find that these
well-educated English people know so little about America, that
we may be excused for supposing that in English schools there are
classes where ignorance of America is taught to the pupils. An
English lady who had travelled over the greater part of Europe
said she had a great desire to come to America, and her principal
object in doing so was to shoot Niagara. I rather opened my eyes
at this, and said that I thought she must refer to the celebrated
trip down the rapids of the St. Lawrence ; but she was very posi
tive on the subject, and said she meant Niagara, and nothing else :
she had understood that they did it in a steamboat, and she knew
she should enjoy the sensation.
A well-educated middle-aged gentleman told me that the reason
our civil war lasted so long was that we had no military men in our
country, and that a war carried on entirely by civilians could not
proceed very rapidly. If any of you have ever seen an English
atlas you will understand why it is difficult to get from it a o-0od
idea of America. We shall find, in such an atlas, full and complete

THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 229
maps of every European country and principality, a whole page
being sometimes given to an island, or to a colony in Asia and
Africa; but the entire United States, with sometimes the whole
of North America besides, is crowded into a single map. Some
of these are so small that the New England States are not large
enough to contain their names, and are designated by figures which
refer to the names printed in an open part of the Atlantic Ocean.
No wonder that the people who use these maps have a limited idea
of our country.
But it is not only English people who appear to know very
little about America. A German countess once asked me if we had
any theatres in New York ; and when I told her that there were
not only a great many theatres in that city, but that it possessed
two grand opera-houses at which, at that time, two of the leading
prima donnas of the world were singing on the same nights, she
was a little surprised. It is quite common in various parts of the
Continent to hear people speak of the late war between North and
South America. They knew that the war was between the North
and the South, and, as it was in America, the mistake is natural
enough to people who have studied only European geography.
But, on the other hand, we meet with many travellers, especially
English, who, if they do not know much about our country, are
very kindly and sociable, and glad to talk about American things
and people ; and, as travel is greatly increasing across the Atlantic
Oceani it will not be long before the people of the two continents
learn to know each other better.
Some of the Americans who visit Europe are such odd person
ages that it is not to be wondered at if they give the people they
meet a queer idea of our nation. Some of these are very fond of
boasting that they come from a part of our country where currants
are as large as grapes, grapes as big as plums, plums the size of

230

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

peaches, peaches like melons, melons as big as great clothes-baskets,
and other things to match. Others complain if they cannot have
ice-water and griddle-cakes in every European city they visit ;
while others again are continually growling and grumbling because
waiters and drivers expect small fees, not considering that at home
they not only pay very much more at hotels, and for carriage hire,
but sometimes are expected to give fees which are ten times as
much as the poor people of Europe are accustomed to receive. I
once saw an American girl, whose parents had become very rich
since her education had been finished, who was
walking through the galleries of the Louvre.
She had been looking at some pictures by
Rubens, all of which represented the Virgin
Mary, and turning to a companion she said :
" I do believe this painter must have been a
Catholic ! "
But such Americans are not true represen
tatives of their country, and it is very certain
that Europe contains no more delightful peo
ple than many of our countrymen and coun
trywomen with whom we become acquainted
abroad. The English people, whom we may visit at
their homes, are very kindly and hospitable, and give us a welcome
as strong and honest as they are themselves. Shopkeepers, and
tradesmen of all sorts, are very civil and obliging. The officials on
the English railways are peculiarly pleasing to Americans, who
contrast their agreeable and efficient way of taking care of travel
lers with the manners and customs of many of our railroad clerks
and employees.
In France, the servants, shopkeepers, washer-women, and nearly

AN ENGLISH RAILWAY
OFFICIAL.

THE PEOPLE WE MEET.

231

everybody who may serve us for money will be found to do
what they have to do in a very kindly and obliging way. It is a
pleasure to be served by such neat maids as we find in hotels and
" pensions," or boarding-houses ; and the women who wait on us
in the shops always greet us pleasantly, and show a kindly interest
in helping us to select what we want. Of course this may be
attributed to a desire to sell as much as possible, but this is a
very proper desire for people in business ; and if they endeavor in
this civil way to induce one to buy, it is far better than the rude
and importunate manner of shopkeepers in some other parts of the
world. There are places, particularly in Paris, where strangers
will be dreadfully cheated if they
make purchases without under- «% ^,,^7-^P> ><• -^A<r.
standing their value, but people
who spend their money without
knowing what they are about
must expect that.
French servants, as well as
those of Italy, Switzerland, and
some other countries, always
salute us pleasantly when they
enter our room, and are often
intelligent, and one may be a
little sociable with them with
out fearing that they will pre
sume upon it ; they are always
ready to give us any information that they can, and if they can
speak even a little English, they are quick to let us know it.
Sometimes their courteous manners and expressions amuse us, as
when a French dressmaker said to a lady who had expressed satis
faction with her work : " Ah, madame, the skies smile when the

FRENCH BONNES (NURSES) AND THEIR CHARGES.

232

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

gown pleases !" One of the most polite and well-bred personages
with whom I ever had conversation kept a little shop in the Latin
Quarter of Paris. She was a middle-aged woman, with sunburned
face and coarse hands, and wore a blue cotton gown and a plain
cap. I frequently went into her shop, and though I often bought
nothing more than a two-cent box of matches, she always welcomed
me as cordially and courteously as if she were receiving me in a
fine salon ; and if she had not what I wanted,
would put herself to trouble to tell me where
I could get it ; and, when I went away, bade
me good-by as if I were a friend of her family
whom she hoped to see again.
It is particularly noticeable in Continental
shopkeepers, and persons of that class, that,
although they are very civil, it is seldom that
we meet with the servility and obsequiousness
which is somewhat common among the Lon
don tradespeople. It will be found, also, that
although the English servants are generally
most admirably trained and efficient, it is not
so advisable to speak to them as freely as
we do to persons in like positions on the Con
tinent, for the British waiters or maids are apt
to lose respect for the person who is inclined
- - to be in any degree sociable with them.
The French people, especially the middle
and lower classes, have strong family ties ; and
in the country, when the sons and daughters
marry, they generally remain in the old home, where the father or
grandfather is head of the house as long as he lives. It is very
pleasant to see the old grandmothers in the public parks and

A FRENCH POLICEMAN.

THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 233

gardens, busily knitting, and taking care of the little grandchildren
who play about them. The French people have faults enough, but
many of these, if the traveller does not look for them, are not apt
to trouble him.
In Italy, as well as in France, we often find a pleasant disposi
tion to offer service, even if it is not directly paid for. I was once
in a city of northern Italy, where I needed some articles of cloth
ing. Having just arrived I was entirely unacquainted with the
place, and inquired of a clerk at a forwarding or express office,
where I had some business, the address of a good shop where I
could buy what I wanted. He thereupon put on his hat and said
he would go with me to one. I did not wish him to put himself to
so much trouble, but he insisted that as I did not know the city it
would be much better for him to accompany me. He took me to
the best place in town, helped me in my selection, made sugges
tions to the shopkeeper, and when I had finished my business,
offered to go with me to buy anything else I might want. It is
possible that he may have been paid for bringing purchasers to
this shop, but the price I paid for what I bought was so small that
there could not have been much profit to anybody, and I do not
believe that the large and wealthy firm by whom this young man
was employed would allow one of their clerks to go out in this
way merely to give him a chance to make a little money. Let any
stranger in one of our cities enter an express office and try to get
one of the clerks to go with him to a tailor's store and help him to
select a suit of clothes, and when he has made known his desire,
let him wait and see what happens next.
The Italians of the working-class are generally very industri
ous ; for the poor are very poor indeed, and they have to work
hard to live. Even in Naples, where idleness and beggary used
to be so common, the people have very much improved of late

234

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

years. Italian beggars, however, are very persistent, and stick to
a stranger like a bur, until they get something. The easiest way
of ridding ourselves of them is to lay in a supply of small copper
coins (they have coins here which are equal in value to a fifth of a
cent, although these are not often met with, except among the
very poor), and when a beggar receives anything he usually *will
go. This is a sort of toll one has to pay on the roads about some
of the cities of Italy, and a stranger must generally pay it, or be
very much annoyed. Sometimes a miserable old beggar with a
broken back, one blind eye, one arm gone and the other one with
ered, and with, apparently, only half a leg, bounds in some miracu
lous manner beside a carriage for a quarter of a mile or so, until
some one throws him a copper. Then he stops, his back straight
ens itself, one arm comes back
to him and the other regains
its power, his legs drop out to
their natural length, and he
walks slowly back to his post
by the roadside, where, the mo
ment he sees another carriage.
approaching, all his infirmities
again seize upon him. Chil
dren are very annoying as beg
gars, especially in the south of
Italy ; for half a dozen of them
will sometimes cluster around
a stranger, imploring him to
give them something. An artist travelling in Italy had a curious
way of ridding himself of these youngsters. He carried a toy
watch which was a little out of order, and the hands of which,
when it was wound up, would go round with a buzz, until it ran

ITALIAN BEGGARS.

THE PEOPLE WE MEET.

235

'-M&-4^

FOLLOWING THE CARRIAGE.

down. He would fix this in one eye like an eye-glass, and turn
fiercely upon the importunate youngsters. The sight of this
revolving and buzzing eye scared the little rascals, and they
fled in every direction.
They thought it was the /
" evil eye," of which they
are very much afraid.
There is not much
begging in and about
Rome. Even the poor
est people seem too dig
nified for that sort of
thing. We shall meet
on the street, however, men, women, and children who offer all
sorts of things to us for sale, and if we buy any of these articles,
we must be careful or we may pay too much for them. Even in
respectable shops, Italians generally ask strangers more for their
goods than they are worth, and it is necessary to bargain a good
deal if we want to get things at proper prices. As a rule, pur
chases can be made at a very moderate rate in Italy if we know
how to buy.
It is easy to see that Italy is a country of art, not only in her
pictures, statues, and architecture, but in the costumes and man
ners of the people. They are very fond of bright colors and pretty
effects, and even when they hang up tomatoes and cabbages in
front of a shop, they arrange them as tastefully as if they were
decorating a little stage for an exhibition.
In Switzerland we see this same disposition to arrange common
things in a tasteful and orderly way ; and although the Swiss are
not so artistic as the Italians, and do not care so much for color,
we sometimes find the winter's wood built up into the shape of

236

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

a little dome or pagoda, and even the smallest piles are arranged
as symmetrically and evenly as if they were never to be moved.
The ears of corn, which we often see hung in a row on the fronts
of houses, are carefully arranged with regard to their size, and hang
in as regular order as if they were files of well-drilled soldiers.
The Swiss cottages, although they are much
more elaborately decorated with carvings
and inscriptions than those of the poor peo
ple in any other country, would not be pleas
ant places for any of us to occupy. The
cows and the people live too close together.
In some of the richest parts of the country,
\i the barn, the stables, and the dwelling-house
are all under one roof.
In our various travels we shall doubt
less meet with a great many Russians, and,
as a rule, we shall find them very intelligent
people. I once met a Russian gentleman
who not only spoke excellent English, but
who knew more about American politics and
our affairs in general than could be reason
ably expected of any one who had never
seen our country. All Russians, however,
do not understand us so well. A young
lady from Siberia, who was very desirous of
hearing about America, once asked me if it were true that peo
ple in our country could look for gold, and, when they had found
it, could have it for their own. She could not understand why
the Government did not require them to deliver it up. In
Russia people cannot go about digging gold and silver in unin
habited mountains and plains any more than they can walk into

AN ITALIAN MODEL WAITING
FOR AN ENGAGEMENT.

THE PEOPLE WE MEET. 237
houses and take money and jewels ; and she thought our Govern
ment very foolish to allow anybody who chooses to go into the
far West, and dig up the gold and silver that he may discover
there. She had no idea of a country which truly belonged to its
people. It is likely that in Switzerland we shall meet with a greater
variety of travellers of different nations than in any other country.
Some parts of this land of lake and mountain are very pleasant in
the summer-time, while other portions are agreeable in the winter.
The living here is also very good and cheap, and there are prob
ably more hotels and boarding-houses to the square mile than in
any other country. At a hotel where I once stayed, there were
English, Irish, Scotch, Americans, Spaniards, Germans, Austrians,
Russians, Swedes, Dutch, French, and a family from the Cape of
Good Hope. I once met with a Parsee gentleman who had trav
elled a good deal in Europe, and had some idea of visiting America.
He had heard that it was sometimes very cold here, and asked me
how we heated our houses ; he particularly wanted to know what
kind of stoves we used. When I told him that these were gener
ally intended for coal, but that in some places we used wood-
stoves, he looked a little troubled, and after a moment's reflection
asked me how we prevented the wood-stoves from burning up when
a fire was made in them.
Mistakes in regard to the meaning of expressions in English
are quite common among Continental Europeans. A Swiss lady
once asked me if American women took much interest in politics
now that they were allowed to vote. " But they are not allowed
to vote," said I. She looked surprised. " Not allowed to vote !"
she exclaimed. " What, then, is the meaning of the Emancipation
Act of which we have heard so much ? " When I assured her that
this celebrated proclamation merely referred to negro slaves, and

238 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
had nothing to do with white women, she said she thought this was
a very queer country.
When I was in Antwerp I met with a person who interested me
very much. I was in the picture gallery, and had walked through
a long line of rooms to the last apartment. There I saw upon
an easel a picture nearly finished, which was a copy of a very
fine painting upon the wall. I was attracted by the beauty of this
copy, which seemed to me as well painted as the original close by
it ; and I was just going away when I saw a tall, elderly man come
into the room, and take his seat upon a stool in front of the easel.
He wore large, loose slippers, and, to my astonishment, the first
thing he did was to kick them off. Then I noticed that his stock
ings were cut off a little below the instep, leaving his toes exposed.
Leaning back on his stool, he lifted his two long and active legs,
and took up his palette and maul-stick with his left foot, putting
his great toe through the hole in the palette, just as an ordinary
artist would use his thumb. Then he took a brush between the
first and second toes of his right foot, and touching it to the paint
on the palette he began to work upon the painting on the easel.
This artist had no arms, having been born without them, and he
had painted the beautiful picture on the easel with his toes. It
was astonishing to see him leaning back with upraised legs, and
putting the delicate lights and shades into the eyes of the portrait
on his canvas with a brush held between his toes. He has long
been known as a most skilful and successful painter in certain
branches, and his beautiful work is not only interesting in itself,
but it points a moral which we can each think out for ourselves.
Wherever we go, in any of the galleries of Europe, we find art
ists copying the noted and famous pictures, sometimes two or three
of them at work copying the same painting. In this way hundreds
and thousands of copies, not only of the great works of the famous

THE PEOPLE WE MEET.

239

painters, but of their smaller and less celebrated pictures, are given
to the world ; and, in many cases, these copies are very good, and
give a fair idea of the originals. There are artists, and some of
them gray-headed, who never paint
any original pictures, and make their
entire living by copying paintings in
the public galleries of Europe. This
copying business, however, is often
a great annoyance to visitors. Some
times a person takes a great deal of
trouble to go to see a famous picture,
and when he reaches the gallery he
finds that an artist's easel and can
vas is set up before it in such a way
that it is difficult for him to get a
good view of it. A young copyist
in the " Salon Carre," the room in
which the finest pictures in the
Louvre are collected, conceived the
grand idea of painting the whole
room, pictures, people, and all ; and
the immense canvas which he set up
acted as a drop-curtain, so far as a
general view of this celebrated hall
was concerned. In some galleries
there are appointed times for the
artists, and other times for the public.
It is very natural that we should want to find out all about the
people we meet while we are travelling in Europe, but we shall
soon discover that many of them are equally desirous of getting
information from us. This is because we are Americans, and in

-«;« If
COPYING IN THE GALLERY.

240 PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.
the countries we have visited — excepting, perhaps, France, where
the people have but little desire to emigrate — America is consid
ered as a land, not very good to live in, perhaps, but as a great
place to make money ; a country where the poorest person can
go, accumulate wealth, and return to spend it in his own delight
ful native land. I remember a guide who took me through the
ruins of Pompeii who was a very good instance of this tendency.
He spoke good English, and was fond of conducting Americans
through the dead little city. The desire of his heart was to go
some day to America, and his mind was so full of this idea that he
cared a great deal more to ask us about things over here than to
tell us about Pompeii. It was rather funny to see him sit down in
the Temple of Isis, and to hear him talk about General Grant and
the poet Longfellow, and other famous Americans whom he had
served as guide. If some Europeans in a higher rank of life were
as anxious to correctly inform themselves about things American as
was this man, I think it would be well for them, and well for us.

THE END.

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Tribune* **' It tells boys how to make all kinds of things — boats, traps,
toys, puzzles, aquariums, fishing tackle ; how to tie knots, splice
ropes, to make bird calls, sleds, blow-guns, balloons ; how to rear
wild birds, to train dogs, and do the thousand and one things
that boys take delight in. The book is illustrated in such a way
that no mistake can be made ; and the boy who gets a copy of
this book wilt consider himself set up in business. '* -The
Indianapolis Journal.

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