By-gone Tourist Days: Letters of Travel — Key Ideas to Explore

here Jerome suffered sentence--From Constance to Lindau--The beauty of country and scenery--The Alps again--Words not equal to doing justice--Innumerable places of attraction--München, the capital of little Bavaria.

MÜNCHEN LETTER--October 11, 1882,.....64

Visit to royal palace--A woman’s voice in American English--Walks and drives around München--Looking in the shop windows--Picking up pictures--Call at the book-store--“The Last Judgment,” largest oil painting in the world--Other pictures and sketches--Vesper service--Munich a large city--Neighbors--A Prussian officer.

MUNICH LETTER--November 18, 1882,.....77

Letters, letters, letters--An evening with friends--My husband and early childhood--Happy days--Dear hills, beautiful hills, sacred hills--Youthful days--The house where I was born--“The Point”--That “exuberant set”--Another Mrs. C.--Bavarian officer--Anticipation of seeing the Alps--A concert--Booth--Letters.

MÜNCHEN LETTER--November 20, 1882,.....87

A homesick heart--The leaf from a tree--Views about the old homestead--The royal family at church--Royal dames--One of the princesses, a beautiful woman--The king--The music--The church--My religion.

MUNICH LETTER--December 12, 1882,.....92

Repetition--Letter of the “altogethery type”--My style--Love, late in life--Indian summer--“That vale of Aberdeen”--Beautiful old ladies--That singular death-bed speech--The divine musician--French books--Dutch reading--The epic, Nibelungenlied--The king’s palace.

MUNICH LETTER--December 22, 1882,.....100

My counterfeit presentment--The crayon portrait--“Paint me as I am”--About my pictures--The home of my childhood--“The Place of Roses”--Les Petites Miseres de la vie Conjugale--Christmas coming--What John did--Christmas, Christmas.

MUNICH LETTER--January 2, 1883,.....105

Preparations for Christmas--Bavaria and its kings--The public buildings--Music--The house of Wittelsbach dates from 1110--The Maximilians--The king on his death-bed--The present king, Ludwig II--His character--His royal palaces--The Gallery of Ancestors--The king a poet--His refined taste--The king’s spotless reputation--Of the kings.

MÜNCHEN LETTER--January 15, 1883,.....117

Christmas and New Years--The scathingest tongue--Christmas tree--The Nibelungenlied in German--Church services--German New Year’s Eve--Our frau’s banquet.

MUNICH LETTER--October 4, 1886,.....126

Of writing letters--Ingenious sophism--The little girl that prayed--The readable letter with a secret--His age--Miss B----’s letter--A grand gala day--Sunday the open day--The king--Royal family--Royal personages--Officers of state--A four o’clock tea.

PARIS LETTER--February 4, 1883,.....134

At last in Paradise--From Munich to Paris--The journey a dream--One’s own vernacular--View from my private balcony--In sight of the Mackey’s palace--Grace Greenwood in Paris--What an enchantment to know places by sight--The street scenes--Vast concourse of seething humanity--The weather--The flowers.

PARIS LETTER--February 8, 1883,.....137

To begin--Figures--Not writing for fame or filthy lucre--“Two in one existence”--From Munich to Paris alone--The experience of cold--The German cars comfortable--Fallen in love--Paris, London and Munich Compared--Manufactory of the Gobelins--Pompeian palace--Viewing art--Language--Night--Solitude--To Italy from Paris.

PARIS LETTER--September 1, 1883,.....144

In Paris again after six months--Good intentions--Feminine interruption--A flash of inspiration--The lion of sandstone carved in a grotto--Trip to the glaciers--First mule ride--Return from the sublime spectacle--The descent more difficult than the ascent--English ladies--From Interlaken to Bern--Lake Leman--The Garden in which Gibbon wrote the conclusion of his great work--Chillon--Passage to Chamony--All the way to Geneva--That book--The Pension--The Madame.

PARIS LETTER--January 1, 1884,.....158

Letter--Verses--Christmas Eve--Tree party--My hostess and myself--Salutatory an impromptu poem--The evening’s entertainment--Twelfth Night--I shun sleep--“Characteristics”--Sending the book--A letter from Miss B.--The article on Burns--Finis and reflections.

PARIS LETTER--April 1, 1884,.....166

Enjoying Paris in fair weather--President Grevy--The numerous entertainments--There is no hostess--The musical side of Paris--A pleasant American family--Sunday afternoon concert--The music--The audience--To the Luxembourg with an American girl.

PARIS LETTER--December 6, 1885,.....169

Letter acknowledged--I am again a wandering star--The delights of travel--The poor king who lost his head--Thomas a Becket--Whitehall--Government buildings--Saw Gladstone’s and Salisbury’s seats--Went to Temple Bar--Old clocks--The cathedral--Vespers at Little St. Martin’s--Crossed the Channel--Sight-seeing--Cuvier and Humboldt--Experiences, drives and sights--Pleasant people we met.

PARIS LETTER--December 13, 1886,.....175

Return delayed by storms--Miss B---- came from Sweden--Proposed trip on the Nile--A line from under old Cheops.

PARIS LETTER--March 8, 1887,.....177

Disappointed about the Jerusalem trip--Contributions from every grand division--No date for sailing--Ladies from Louisville, Ky.--The title of the little book--Madame gives a house-warming--Bloom and beauty.

PARIS LETTER--April 26, 1887,.....180

Birthday anniversary--Dispensations of conscientiousness--How the days go--The sight-seeing never comes to an end--The “Salon” open for the Annual Exposition--At the Exposition--Numerous pictures--“Theodora,” Sara Bernhardt’s great character--Two French ladies--The musical entertainment given me--Paris in the month of May.

PARIS LETTER--May 29, 1887,.....185

The letter and the book--Figures and a woman’s age--Pictures--Millet’s “L’Angelus”--Subjects and character of paintings--“The little book”--The drive--Champs Elysées as a fashionable resort--The enchantment of the scenes--“The little book” again, and again.

VENICE LETTER--June 8, 1883,.....192

The letter in fancy from Florence--No rules from the flight of imagination--Longfellow says it for me--Venice in June--Drifting about in a gondola--The Grand Canal--The dazzling glory of the scene--A trance; a dream; perfect, perfect Venice!--Allusion to a story of life--A book to come forth--If I am to die to-morrow ...--The ideal woman and friend--Kentucky gossip--Oh! oh! oh! perfect, perfect Venice!

LUCERNE LETTER--June 26, 1883,.....201

The wooden horse of Donatello--Goethe’s palm tree--From Padua to Verona--Juliet’s tomb--The house of Capulets--Milan--The cathedral--Grand Victor Emanuel Gallery--Pictures in galleries--Visit to libraries--View of levées--Italian lakes and scenes--The tropical bloom--Nightingale songs--The grand climb up the Alps--The glaciers--Snow flower, edelweiss--The ruins of castles--The moonlight scene--The descent from the Alps--The aching heart, like the dying gladiator.

VIENNA LETTER--October 17, 1883,.....214

No end to the beginning--The opera--Letters--The surface of things--Below the surface--Knowledge of more breadth--My hostess--Wagner’s operas--The object of my pilgrimage to Vienna--The aurist of Europe--The specialist’s quarters--The Imperial Library.

SIENA LETTER--March 4, 1883,.....224

Things we saw on the way--Shrine of Petrarch’s Laura--The Papal palaces--The frescoes--Musée Calvet--Vernet Gallery and pictures--The moonlight drive to Marseilles--At Cannes--An English lady--Hotel on the sea-front--The moonrise out of the sea--Bishop Littlejohn, of Rhode Island--A tram-drive--Excursion to Monaco and Monte Carlo--Pisa--Geneva--Mt. Blanc.

ROME LETTER--March 19, 1883,.....231

An Ohioan from Granville--Naples and views--Museums and the palace of Capodimonte--Picture of Michael Angelo and Vittoria Colonna--Pompeian frescoes--Vittoria Colonna’s husband--Vesuvius at night--Longfellow’s poem, “Amalfi”--Paestum--Ideal drive--Museum--Narcissus listening to Echo--Palm Sunday at St. Peter’s--The Sistine Chapel--Goethe’s words--Hawthorne’s Rome--The Marble Faun--Springtime--Christmas flowers--Christmas souvenirs.

ROME LETTER--April 4, 1883,.....238

Scenes along the coast of Italy--Little villages--The mountains--Monastery of the Capuchins--The macaroni factory--The monastery and monks--Our Paestum day--Vesuvius before the charmed gaze--Birthplace of Tasso--Celebrated places--Second trial of Naples--Trip from Naples to Rome--Ancient Capua--Monte Casino, its associations--Rome--Palm Sunday--Various services--English lady--Holy Week--Drive on the Via Appia--The Catacombs and tombs--The grotto--The tree of Numa’s wisdom.

ROME LETTER--April 24, 1883,.....251

Importance of address in a foreign land--Guercino’s fresco of Aurora--Scene in Imperial Rome--“Rome mistress of the world”--Story of Eve--Tasso memorial room--Swarm of lizards--A view of St. Peter’s--Pompey’s statue--The Plaza--The Jews’ quarters, called Ghetto--The house of Rienzi--Protestant cemetery--Burial place of Keats and the heart of Shelley.

ROME LETTER--May 2, 1883,.....261

“While Rome stands, the world stands”--The rounds of churches--The galleries and museums--Palaces and shops--“Being in Rome, do as Romans do”--Piazzi di San Giovanni, the largest in existence--One of the eleven obelisks--Mosaic frescoes--The queen in her carriage--Church of St. Onafrio, on the Janiculus--The three frescoes by Domenichino and Leonardo da Vinci--Tasso buried here--Three churches of the Aventine--Galleries--Artists’ quarters--Our Rodgers and Ives--Their art--Italian artist--Dwight Benton, formerly of Cincinnati, Ohio--Italian scenes.

MAIORI LETTER--April 5, 1886,.....274

Apology for delinquent letter--“What a butterfly she is!”--One of the party sick--On the Mediterranean--Longfellow’s poem--The steep climb--The poor little donkey--Features of the scene--“The death in life”--The region abounds in drives--Talk of Sicily and Africa--A letter--The sacred few ...--The little book--Blessed be the potato, henceforth and forever!

NAPLES LETTER--May 1, 1886,.....281

A drive to Salerno--From there to Paestum--The temple of Neptune--An incident of missing glasses--Return to Salerno--Then to Pompeii--Naples--Friends from Tunis--A steamer for Sicily--Storm at sea--Palermo, its environs--The palaces--The drives and places we visited--The museum, Metopes, and splendid art--Beauty of the country--The fountain of Arethusa--Roman amphitheater--The quarries--Mt. Etna--The seven rocks of Cyclops--Messina--That coat of arms of Sicily--The heart-ache of good-byes.

LAUTERBRUNNEN LETTER--July 29, 1886,.....291

Wrought up over letters--“Poaching on your preserves”--The cause of wit--Friends, their character estimated--Of writing--Sojourn in the beautiful valley--The Staubach--The Jungfrau.

EGYPT LETTER--December 30, 1886,.....295

Aboard steamer Prince Abbas--On the Nile--“In the teeth of a storm”--Sunrise and sunset on the Mediterranean--Acquaintances, a citizen from the “hub”--At Alexandria--The seven wonders--To Cairo--English officers--The Pyramids--Pillars at Heliopolis--“The Virgin’s tree”--The island of Rhodda--Mosques and tombs--The site of Memphis--“Twelve miles of wonderland”--The air--The flowers--The guests on steamer--One can live too much in books.

EGYPT LETTER FROM PARIS--February 10, 1887,.....302

Agreeable surprises--Down the Nile--The atmosphere and mysterious influence of scene--Landing of steamer--Our donkey ride--The tombs--The imposing magnificence of the monuments--Rain in Egypt--Reflections--Pictures to help tell the story--The coming book.

CUBA LETTER--April 7, 1885,.....307

The magical isle of Cuba--Tropical vegetation--Sunrise in the harbor of Havana--The trip on the steamer--Moro Castle--Strange scene on landing--The buildings--The drive, atmosphere and scenery--The watch incident--Shopping expedition--People we met--To Cerro--Sugar plantations and process of sugar-making--The caves--The beautiful island, Cuba--The freedom of slaves--Spanish government.

A VISION OF FATIGUE,.....322

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Shakespeare’s Birthplace, from below, Stratford, 11

Room in Shakespeare’s Home, Stratford, 12

Mary, Queen of Scots, Edinburgh, 32

Pension and Garden to which Goethe wrote a Poem, Heidelberg, 38

The Old Kaiser at Historical Window, 71

Louis II, the Mad King of Bavaria, 90

The Historic Windmill, 131

The Old Lion, Lucerne, 147

The Old Lion at the Arsenal, Venice, 192

Lord Byron’s Palace, Venice, 196

Strada dei Sepolcri (Street of Tombs), Pompeii, 248

Naples, General View, 281

Peasant Cart, Palermo, 283

Interior of Museum, Palermo, 285

Head of Medusa, Palermo, 290

Where to begin? That is the question. The ideas, thoughts, feelings, come, not in battalions, but like the hosts of Alexander, or our own, in “the late unpleasantness,” or like the bubbles in the foam on the crests of the waves “a moment here, then gone forever.” I am wishing for the arms of Briareus, with their hundred hands, to help catch and fix them on the page. Such a trip! The Atlantic was never known to exhibit such a peculiar turbulence of waves and water generally. The steamer Adriatic (in which we sailed April 6th) kept up such a lurching and pitching as I never had an idea of before. One day it was impossible for me to keep my feet, and after trying in vain to dress in the morning, I retired to my berth. But it was as much as the sailors could do to keep their feet, and three were badly hurt. How my friends would have laughed, could they have seen my frantic struggles to accomplish a toilette. The two “steamer trunks” and our hand satchels were chasing each other all around me, and knocking wildly from one side to the other, and I in the midst, shooting and slipping, clutching and grabbing, wildly, frantically, at doors, berth and washstand. But I was so glad not to be seasick, I didn’t mind anything else much.

One spectacle of this turbulence in the “r-r-r-rolling forties,” as the chambermaid called our bearing (I wish I could give that whirr of her r s), was of peculiar and extraordinary sublimity and uniqueness. It kept me at my porthole for I know not how long. The steamer was sweeping right along in an immense hollow, or crater as it were, in the ocean, and in which was comparative calm. Afar off the water rose in encircling ranges of vast mountains--“Alps upon Alps”--capped with white foam. From these snowy cones, like the eruptions of volcanoes, burst forth in swift succession great columns of the seething mass that shot upward apparently to the very heavens and exploded.

I did not know at the time that this was unusual, but in speaking of it afterwards found it had not been observed by the other passengers--all or the most of whom were seasick--nor have I since met with any traveler who had ever seen it; nor read any description of it.

We had a lovely Easter Sunday on the broad Atlantic. The captain presented me with two Easter eggs prepared expressly for me as a testimonial of my good seamanship. I was never seasick. The device was a white star and the name of the steamer--Adriatic. I was the only lady thus honored. We had a pleasant company: R. H. Dana and his wife (a daughter of Longfellow), two charming ladies, relatives of Longfellow, a Unitarian minister and his young sister, all from Boston; and a Mrs. Blake, from Canada. These were the parties we saw the most of, except Mrs. Dana, who was not well. Mr. Dana was one of the most attractive and interesting persons I ever met, the kind that has the effect of a flash of sunlight coming into a room. One of the ladies was a Unitarian, and that brought us together. The minister was going to attend a Unitarian conference of the English Unitarian Church, which met at Liverpool, April 18th. She and I constituted ourselves delegates at large, and decided to attend. We landed Sunday, the 16th, remained till afternoon, attending church at an old cathedral of some note; then lunching at the Northwestern Hotel, and away we came to Chester.

How much do you know about Chester? I’ll take for granted all its history. The “old cathedral city” and the “old walled city” is the way the guide-books speak of it. I walked its two miles of wall, well-preserved, picturesque, and commanding lovely views. I mounted one of the towers on it, called King Charles the First’s, because from it he watched the fatal progress of the battle of Rowton Moor. I looked out of the very queer little windows from which he watched. The old woman who shows it is as bright and keen of tongue, if not as incisive, as Mrs. Poyser. She said she liked Americans, and always enjoyed their visits, and that they paid her every year a most extraordinary honor. “Just think of a whole country celebrating your birthday! Wouldn’t you feel honored? That’s what you Americans do.” She said it with mischievous, snapping eyes. Of course I took in in a moment that the Fourth of July was her birthday. “Ah,” I replied, “and to think of fifty millions of people doing all that honor, and not knowing what they are doing.” “Fifty millions of people!” She came right up to me, and her look changed to amazement--“what a grand country it must be!” I told her it was too bad her name was unknown, and she must give it to me. “Mary Huxley.” I said,

“Why, Mary Huxley, you’ve a very good name, And I’m sure I think it a crying shame That it is not better known to fame.”

You ought to have seen her delight. She talked to me down to the very last step, after giving me “a hearty grip” by way of good-bye.

Then I saw Chester Cathedral, where Hugh Lupus, nephew of William the Conqueror, is buried. On Sunday night, some of us attended service there, after which there was an organ recital, a very fine performance. Next morning, all five of us went down into the dark, damp, crypts. The amount of exquisite carving in it is something wonderful. I am not going into the age and size of it and all that. Go to the library and get a book on English Cathedrals and Cathedral Towns and read, and think that that is what your correspondent is seeing. Another one is St. John’s Church, still more ancient, with its abbey, a lovely ivy-covered ruin. I could not bear to leave it. Another feature is the old castle now used as an armory and barracks. The hands of the Romans have left many evidences of their work here in the wall, the columns still standing in place of some kinds of fortifications. The old town is full of queer things, and has a weird sort of fascination; among these “the Rows,” a succession of arcades built on the roofs of ancient triangular-shaped houses. The handsomest shops are in them. The neighborhood has the honor of containing Eaton Hall, the seat of the Duke of Westminster. We visited it, driving and walking all over its splendid walks, and gardens, and lawns, and parks, and getting a first-rate look into the palace. We could not go inside, because it was full of workmen finishing the inside ornamentation. The grounds are ten square miles in extent. There were immense conservatories, full of the rarest flowers and plants. In one I saw the Egyptian lotus floating in full bloom in an immense tank. The head gardener was our guide. He was a very intelligent person, well-mannered and pleasant and clever, because he gave me a handful of flowers and broke off a nice little branch from a cedar of Lebanon, brought from the Holy Land expressly for the place. He gave us a great deal of information about the family; among other things he told me the Duke was not handsome, but a good man. He spoke with emphasis.

The Dee winds through those miles of acres and is spanned by a number of bridges. The villages of the tenantry are pretty and looked comfortable. I saw deer by hundreds in the park. We returned to Liverpool, and remained two days in attendance on the conference. A number of the leading men were there, and we heard them speak and preach. There were Armstrong, Carpenter, Sir Thomas Hayward and others. They were fine-looking men, and extremely interesting. The audience was as enthusiastic and demonstrative as that of our Methodist Conferences.

From Liverpool we whisked away to Rowsley Station, Derbyshire, to the Peacock Inn, the quaintest manor-house, now doing duty according to its name. The object of this was to visit Chatsworth, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, and Haddon Hall, a lovely unused ruin, belonging to the Duke of Rutland. The country in every direction was a vision of beauty--a sea of living green--bespangled with flowers as thickly as the floor of heaven is inlaid with stars; or in Derbyshire, breaking up into great cliffs, showing the beautiful stone which is so generally used in building. The grounds of the inn were washed by the Derwent, a winding stream of exceeding beauty.

We made an early start in a wagonette for Chatsworth. It was an ideal day--the Spring in full burst, with that delicate film of blue mist that always makes me think of a veil, to enhance its charms--the whole way a succession of pictures--vales, swelling uplands, far hills, the Derwent in its curious curves. We were speechless and exclamatory by turns.

Chatsworth is a palace, in the midst of its thousands of acres cultivated and adorned in every possible way; its exquisite lawn laid out in innumerable gardens in Italian, Alpine, German, French, and ever so many other styles; its wonderful conservatory designed by Sir Joshua Paxton, who modeled the Crystal Palace on the same plan, as you no doubt know; and the gorgeousness of the long suite of show rooms. The rooms of course are filled with all that the money and taste of its long generations have accumulated--the rooms in themselves, for their noble dimensions, rich, tasteful and expensive finish; and their lovely views of stream, lakes, meadows, forests, and lovely distances. I saw the hangings of a state bedstead worked by Mary Queen of Scots, and the Countess of Shrewsbury; the rosary of Henry the Eighth; and some portraits of the beautiful duchesses that have distinguished the house (though not Georgiana); and some splendid pieces of statuary. I shall never forget Canova’s Endymion, and Thorwalsden’s Venus. The guide went round the grounds by my side and proved himself a most agreeable fellow--telling me all the family gossip I cared to know. I dare not attempt to get it all in here, though I’ve a misgiving you’d rather hear it than all the rest. I may as well tell you that I always keep close to the guide and--it pays. They are always the head, or one of the gardeners, and are a constant astonishment to me for their good manners, choice language, as well as their intelligence.

I asked if the heir, the Marquis of Hartington (leader in the House of Commons), was handsome; he laughed merrily, shaking his head, “No indeed, he is very plain, and you just ought to see him slouch around here. This is the way he walks”--and he gave an illustration to my infinite amusement. Only he and I were together, the rest were lagging a wide interval behind.

The deer park has two thousand acres and eight hundred head of deer. We saw several different herds of one hundred each, perhaps two hundred.