Univers] 
 Soul
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Of 
 
 CMJPOTMtA 
 SAN DIEGO

 
 F 
 
 AMILIAR 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 FROM EUROPE. 
 
 BY 
 
 CORNELIUS CONWAY FELTON, 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 
 1865.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District ot Massachusetts. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS: 
 
 WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY, 
 
 CAMBRIDGE.
 
 To 
 REV. A. P. PEABODY, 
 
 THE VALUED FRIEND OF THE WHITER, 
 
 These Letters 
 
 ARE GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 M. L. FELTON.
 
 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 I. 
 
 On board the Ship Daniel Webster, Boston Harbor, 
 Saturday, April 9, 1863. 
 
 AFTER lying by a couple of hours, a suffi- 
 cient number of sailors has been mustered, 
 and the ship is now getting under way. Dinner 
 is preparing, and the passengers are prepared. 
 The wind is favorable, and we shall make a good 
 distance before night. There seemed some dan- 
 ger of our^eing detained here, for want of these 
 men, until to-morrow, and perhaps longer, with- 
 out the possibility of going ashore ; but the actual 
 starting is an omen of good success throughout. 
 
 Wednesday, April 13. Since I wrote on Sat- 
 urday we have had excellent weather and fair 
 winds. All the passengers except myself have 
 been sick, but to me every moment since I came 
 on board has been full of enjoyment ; my only 
 drawback, the seeing how shockingly the rest 
 were suffering.
 
 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 . We are getting on at the rate of ten 
 or twelve miles an hour. With you, it is now 
 about half past nine o'clock ; with us, a little after 
 eighth 
 
 Sunday, Vlih. We had a good run last night, 
 with much less motion. 
 
 Last evening I read some passages from the Mid- 
 summer Night's Dream to the Captain. When I 
 came to the description of the mermaid riding " on 
 a dolphin's back," he pronounced it a humbug. 
 " The dolphin's back is as sharp as a razor, and 
 no mermaid could possibly ride the beast, unless 
 she had first saddled him." So Shakespeare is 
 caught napping here. 
 
 Our company were all at breakfast this morn- 
 ing, except Mrs. . We are now a little more 
 
 than half over. They tell me that the sea has 
 been unusually rough, but I have not suffered in 
 the least. The Captain repeated to me yesterday, 
 that he had never known any one to bear the sea 
 so well, on a first voyage. But the truth is, I have 
 found nothing to bear ; everything around me has 
 excited, so far, an unflagging interest. 
 
 Thursday, April 21st - After a day of the 
 most painful experience, I sit down in the even- 
 ing to continue my brief notice of events. I rose, 
 as is my wont, at 5 o'clock. Went on deck, 
 and took the usual rounds of the ship. The
 
 A MAN OVERBOARD. 3 
 
 weather was a little overcast, and the sea ran high. 
 
 After a while, Mrs. L came up, and we sat 
 
 talking in the wheel-house, from which we looked 
 over the whole length of the ship. Suddenly, 
 about twenty minutes past eight, the terrible cry 
 of "A man overboard!" came from the forecastle. 
 He was lowering the fore topgallant-sail, about a 
 hundred and ten feet above the deck, and fell, 
 striking one of the lower sails, and then bounding 
 into the sea. The Captain was just coming up 
 with his quadrant, to take an observation. He 
 sprang forward, and gave his orders like lightning. 
 The ship was hoven to, but with a tremendous 
 strain upon masts and rigging ; one of the boats 
 was lowered, and three men jumped in. The sea 
 was heavy, and the motion of the ship violent ; 
 the boat capsized, throwing the three men into the 
 sea. One, the boatswain, caught hold of the tackle 
 by which the boat was still held to the stern of the 
 ship, and was drawn on board. The other two 
 were struggling in the waves. A fourth stripped 
 himself and clambered down into the boat, which 
 had righted itself, but was nearly full of water. 
 Just at that moment a tremendous lurch of the 
 ship dashed the boat against her, broke the tack- 
 ling, tore off the davit, and she again capsized, 
 with such a weight hanging underneath that it 
 was impossible for her to right herself again. 
 The brave sailor managed to get upon her keel, 
 but she floated away, at one moment poised on
 
 4 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the top of a wave, and the next sinking out of 
 sight. Another boat was lowered instantly, and 
 the second mate, the boatswain who had already 
 come within a hair's-breadth of losing his life, 
 and two young sailors, volunteered to man her, 
 and attempt the rescue of their shipmates. 
 
 Away they went. But the waves seemed to 
 rise higher and the wind to blow stronger. We 
 watched both boats with straining eyes, and the 
 most painful, even agonizing feelings. I assure 
 you, those noble fellows had not one chance in 
 a thousand of ever reaching the ship again in 
 safety. All the rest four in number had dis- 
 appeared from sight, and there was not the shadow 
 of a possibility of their surviving. Two awful 
 hours passed, and then the Captain called his 
 crew aft, and asked them if they thought it best 
 to continue the search. After a moment of sad 
 silence, they said, " No, there is no hope " ; and 
 the signal was given for the boat to return. 
 
 But this was a difficult matter, in such a sea. 
 Without the most consummate seamanship, and 
 the most absolute self-possession, as well as des- 
 potic command over others, on the Captain's part, 
 it could not have been done, and four more gal- 
 lant fellows would have followed their companions 
 to the bottom. His presence was everywhere ; 
 his voice seemed to fill the ship ; the men were 
 puppets in his hands, and did exactly his bidding. 
 As the boat neared the ship, he ordered the men
 
 COURAGE OF THE SHIP'S COMPANY. 5 
 
 on board what to do. They obeyed implicitly 
 and instantly, though the orders, as one of them 
 has since told me, were directly contrary to their 
 own rapidly formed plan. Ropes were thrown to 
 them, and they were safely got on board, amidst 
 the joyful congratulations of sailors and passengers. 
 So unexpected was this marvellous rescue, that we, 
 for the moment, forgot the poor fellows who had 
 two hours since passed into eternity, under our 
 very eyes. Then returned the solemn and awful 
 sense of what had happened ; and then the ship 
 made sail, and all was over. 
 
 I need not say that this spectacle, which passed 
 before my eyes, was the most terrible ever wit- 
 nessed by me. But the skill, devotion, and en- 
 ergy shown by the Captain, officers, and crew 
 were sublime. In the midst of the horror, I 
 could not help feeling this, too. I looked at the 
 poor fellow, keeping his seat bravely on the keel 
 of the distant boat; then at the four men in the 
 second boat, struggling to his rescue ; then upon 
 the Captain, as he went aloft and gave his orders 
 with the clearness of a trumpet, with a kind of 
 spell-bound awe. But the might of the elements 
 baffled the utmost that human skill, unconquer- 
 able devotion, and the noblest humanity could do. 
 At eleven o'clock, a meeting was called in the 
 cabin ; and we passed resolutions and raised a 
 subscription to procure some testimonial for these 
 noble fellows who went out in the second boat.
 
 6 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 There has been a strong wind and a heavy sea 
 all day. At this moment the ship is pitching tre- 
 mendously, (as you may judge by my writing,) 
 and driving at the rate of a dozen miles an hour. 
 During all this, there has not been an instant of 
 danger to the ship, except when she was suddenly 
 brought round, at the moment the first man fell 
 overboard. Had she not been most strongly built, 
 every mast would then have been snapped off; but, 
 as I have told you, the noble ship rode the waves 
 like a king. 
 
 We are about 390 miles from Cape Clear, and 
 700 from Liverpool. We already notice a change 
 in the clouds, indicating that we are approaching 
 land. 
 
 Friday, April 22d. Last night was the rough- 
 est we have had. The ship pitched and tossed 
 and groaned tremendously. For the first time my 
 slumbers were broken in upon. Crash went a 
 basket of crockery ; bang came a tremendous 
 wave against the side of the state-room. This 
 last seemed to suggest the idea of a quarrel. I 
 dreamed I was abusing somebody for a badly 
 cooked ham, and it ended by my throwing it at 
 his head. I awoke, and was rather glad to find I 
 had not been guilty of such an absurdity ; for, 
 you know, I never did such a thing in my life. 
 The tumult still continues ; but we are approach- 
 ing Cape Clear at a prodigious rate.
 
 A COLORED PROFESSOR. 7 
 
 Saturday, April 23d. We are now in sound- 
 ings, and expect to see Cape Clear to-day. If the 
 wind holds, we shall reach Liverpool next Mon- 
 day. The passage has been rough, but, in point 
 of speed, a very good one. It is only a fortnight 
 to-day since we embarked, and here we are, al- 
 most within hail of land. The sea is discolored, 
 and the sea-birds multiply. The clouds look dif- 
 ferently, and everything betokens the approach- 
 ing end of the voyage. 
 
 Sunday Evening. We have had a pleasant 
 day. We passed Tusca Rock before sunset, and 
 near enough to see the lighthouse very distinctly. 
 The coast of Ireland is bold and hilly. We have 
 been able to see some of the buildings, and a flag- 
 staff on a headland. A windmill was at first mis- 
 taken for a castle, and called out a good deal of 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 I find, to-day, that there is, among the second- 
 cabin passengers, a colored man with a white wife, 
 going to Europe for three years' study. He has 
 been appointed Professor of Greek, Hebrew, and 
 German in some interior college of New York. 
 I am sorry I did not know this before ; I should 
 like to have become acquainted with him. I have 
 noticed him and his wife a pretty, delicate little 
 woman several times ; but the lines of demar- 
 cation are so strictly drawn, that no intercourse 
 occurs, except by some special effort, between the 
 first-class and secotid-class passengers.
 
 8 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Monday, 10 o'clock. The wind and weather 
 continued propitious until we reached the Holy- 
 head Light, about four o'clock this morning. 
 There we suddenly encountered a gale from the 
 northeast, which made it necessary to put about, 
 and shoot off to the Irish coast. 
 
 Evening. The gale has subsided, and we are 
 again upon our course, hoping to get by Holyhead 
 to-night. You cannot imagine the contrast be- 
 tween the clear sky and calm sea and favoring 
 breeze we are now enjoying, and the terrible up- 
 roar which lasted ten hours. 
 
 Tuesday, April 26A, 10 o'clock. We have 
 signalized to Liverpool by way of Holyhead, and 
 expect to meet a steamboat, to tow us in, in the 
 course of the day. The mountains of Wales have 
 been in sight ; and, in particular, we had a perfect 
 view of Snowdon, which I hope to ascend in a few 
 days. I have not been idle during this voyage ; 
 have read half a dozen novels, half a dozen plays 
 of Shakespeare, written a good many letters ; and 
 have got well acquainted with the officers, which 
 is worth a good deal, for they are downright good 
 fellows, every inch of them. The rough-looking 
 
 mate, W , has the courage of a lion and the 
 
 heart of a woman. He told me the other day 
 all about his courtship and marriage. The Cap- 
 tain has promised to draw on a chart the line of 
 our voyage, and take it to you on his return.
 
 ARRIVAL AT LIVERPOOL. 
 
 Wednesday Morning. Here we are at Liver- 
 pool. We got round Holyhead yesterday before 
 noon ; had a pleasant run up ; ships multiplying 
 the nearer we came ; then steamers plying about. 
 At one o'clock, the pilot a pleasant -looking 
 John Bull boarded us. We had to remain out- 
 side the bar till ten o'clock, for the tide, so that 
 the ship did not reach the dock until midnight. 
 We stayed on board all night. I have just been 
 on deck to take my first look at Liverpool. It 
 is a busy scene ; and here ends the voyage, a 
 long story about a short matter. Voyage exactly 
 sixteen days. 
 
 1*
 
 10 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 II. 
 
 CHESTER, April 29, 1853. 
 
 WE stayed in Liverpool one day only, but 
 I saw a good deal of the city, and quite 
 enough to understand its commercial importance. 
 I was amused, interested, and instructed every 
 moment ; but two or three things struck me much, 
 the pleasant voices, and low, distinct pronun- 
 ciation of all classes of people, and the universal 
 disposition to oblige. On the other hand, in the 
 obscure streets, the wretchedness and rags were 
 deplorable. The stolid-looking little donkeys, with 
 their carts, driven by just such ragamuffin boys 
 as Dickens loves to describe, who whacked them 
 over the back without exciting any other feeling 
 in the shaggy little beasts than the most profound 
 indifference, made me laugh twenty times. Our 
 hotel itself was just such a rambling building as 
 Mr. Pickwick lost his way in. 
 
 The next day we came by railroad to this old 
 place ; the most interesting city in England for 
 its antiquities. Immediately after our arrival we 
 turned our steps to the Cathedral, once an ab- 
 bey, but on the dissolution of the monasteries con- 
 verted into a cathedral church. It is the most
 
 CHESTER CATHEDRAL. 11 
 
 extraordinary historical monument of its kind in 
 Great Britain. 
 
 In the afternoon we drove over to Eaton Hall, 
 the new and splendid seat of the Marquis of West- 
 minster. We walked through the park by a wind- 
 ing road, from which opened the most exquisite 
 views of lawn, wood, and stream ; the river Dee, 
 here and there glancing on the sight ; old trees, of 
 a thousand years, stretching their aged arms over- 
 head ; thousands of rookf cawing and clamoring, 
 high up in the tree-tops, where their nests were 
 built, and, underneath, thousands of other feath- 
 ered singers giving their softer notes to the con- 
 cert. The afternoon was very fine, cool, and 
 partly overcast with clouds, which gave a most 
 enchanting softness to the landscape. The road 
 is so made as to bring, the Hall in sight from just 
 the most picturesque points of view. It took two 
 or three hours to make the circuit. We passed 
 close by the Hall in returning to the road ; but it 
 is not open to visitors, and so we did not see the 
 interior. 
 
 The next morning early, I went to the Cathe- 
 dral and attended the morning service. How 
 many do you think were present to share in this 
 act of devotion, in this wonderful old place ? Just 
 eight, including the sexton and myself. After 
 service I ascended the tower. The day before I 
 had gone upon the tower of Trinity Church with 
 considerable difficulty. The stairs reached only
 
 12 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 to the first landing ; from that up to the summit 
 a series of ladders furnished the only means of 
 mounting. The doors, or traps, were so small 
 that I could scarcely squeeze my body through, 
 and the accumulated dust of centuries was almost 
 smothering. The view was beautiful, but too 
 much overshadowed by showery clouds passing 
 over at the moment. I was not sorry to get down 
 again. I said to the sexton, " It seems to me you 
 have not calculated correctly for Englishmen ; the 
 ladders and passages are scarcely large enough 
 for an American." " Why," said he, " very few 
 Hinglishmen goes up 'ere." 
 
 But the Cathedral tower is higher and more 
 central; the ascent is by a winding stone stair- 
 case, a great part of the way pitchy dark and nar- 
 row, though not quite so narrow as Trinity. The 
 dust and heat were severe. I took a peep into 
 the belfry on the way, and at that moment the 
 peal of the organ floated up from below. Con- 
 tinuing the ascent, the stairs still narrowed ; but 
 by and by the light broke in from above as if 
 straight from heaven. Curiously enough, just 
 below the last step a rook had built her nest, 
 which filled up the whole width of the stairs. 
 With some difficulty scrambling over it, without 
 much damage to the nest or myself, I emerged 
 upon the summit, and was almost overwhelmed by 
 the first magnificence of the view. The quadran- 
 gular summit is very spacious, and well fenced by
 
 WARWICK CASTLE. 13 
 
 a parapet. I stayed as long as I could, looking 
 over the immense prospect and listening to the 
 sounds that came up from below. If I were to 
 linger over this indescribable scene, I should fill 
 up my letter with this and nothing else. 
 
 After breakfast we bade farewell to our hotel 
 and took the cars, with the purpose of getting to 
 Leamington and visiting Warwick Castle and Ken- 
 ilvvorth. We passed the wonderful vale of Llan- 
 gollen, the most delicious landscape in Wales, and 
 perhaps in the world. Of course we had only 
 momentary glimpses of its magical beauties, but 
 enough to stamp the picture on my memory for- 
 ever. After a succession of rural scenes such as 
 only England can present, we came suddenly upon 
 a mining district ! What a contrast ! The earth 
 torn up ; heaps of rubbish ; fires blazing up from 
 tall chimneys. 
 
 We reached Leamington, a part of the ancient 
 parish of Warwick, in season for an early dinner. 
 In the afternoon we hired a carriage and drove to 
 Warwick Castle. We reached the spot after the 
 hour of receiving visitors. I was advised to send 
 my card in to the Earl of Warwick, and ask per- 
 mission to enter. The old porter took the card 
 to the groom of the chambers, the groom of the 
 chambers took it to his Lordship, who most cour- 
 teously granted permission. The consequence 
 was, we saw the Castle under the most favorable 
 circumstances, no other visitors being there,
 
 14 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 and passed leisurely and quietly through all the 
 apartments, except some of the smaller ones oc- 
 cupied by the family. 
 
 This castle is one of the oldest and finest in 
 England. Every part of it, except " Guy's Tow- 
 er," is fitted up with perfect taste and comfort, for 
 the residence of the family and their guests. The 
 rooms are crowded with the most precious works 
 of art, antiquities of the rarest description, 
 all arranged with admirable skill. We spent a 
 long time in giving even a hasty examination to 
 these treasures, not one of which but has its his- 
 torical interest. The grass was delightfully green, 
 and the turf soft within the extensive enclosure. 
 Crossing over to the other side, we ascended Guy's 
 Tower, and, the weather happening to be uncom- 
 monly fine, the prospect over the lawns, park, 
 forests, and the winding Avon, which flows just 
 under the walls, was enchanting. Next we passed 
 out of the castle into the conservatory, where 
 stands the world-renowned Warwick Vase. Here 
 again I cannot undertake to describe anything I 
 saw; but I will say, that Warwick Castle more 
 than repays a voyage across the Atlantic. 
 
 Returning, we visited the Parish Church of 
 St. Mary, and saw the interesting monuments of 
 ihe Beauchamps, Dudleys, Leicester, &c. We 
 got back to dinner about seven o'clock, a little 
 fatigued by the labors of the day, but filled with 
 the highest enjoyment.
 
 KENILWORTH. 15 
 
 May ~Lst. This morning, early, we took post- 
 horses for Stratford-on-Avon. We drove first to 
 Kenilworth Castle. It is the first of May, and 
 the English May. Captain Howard joined us at 
 Chester, and will continue with us to Oxford. 
 You would have smiled to see us ; a pair of 
 horses ; a trim postilion, with buckskin breeches, 
 white-topped boots, spurs, a leather leggin on the 
 right leg to guard it against the pole, white jacket 
 with silver ball-buttons, a jaunty cap, white gloves 
 as clean as a lady's in a ball-room, an elegant whip, 
 mounted on the near horse ; the Captain and I on 
 what we should call the driver's seat ; the girls and 
 
 P in the carriage (a post-chaise), with the 
 
 top thrown entirely back. Such was the style in 
 which we departed from the famous Leamington, 
 on the 1st of May, 1853, a most beautiful morn- 
 ing, on our way to Kenilworth and Stratford- 
 on-Avon. 
 
 Another succession of English landscapes, en- 
 livened by the singing of thrushes and other birds. 
 A drive of three or four miles brought us in sight 
 of the castellated remains of Kenilworth. We 
 stopped at a little alehouse, and then walked over 
 the grounds, and all around this venerable and 
 romantic ruin. I read Walter Scott's description 
 aloud, and it is very interesting to notice with 
 what fidelity he has followed the details as far as 
 they go, and with what life his pages are ani- 
 mated as you read them on the spot. We walked
 
 16 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 , entirely round the walls, tracing the ancient moat, 
 and gazing with a delight, mixed with something 
 of sadness, on the heavy masses of ivy which hang 
 over the ruins like natural tapestry. We re- 
 mained here for a considerable time, studying the 
 scene, and conversing with an intelligent farmer 
 whom we found near the spot. I shall send by 
 the Captain a quantity of cards with views of this 
 and other places we have already visited. Here 
 again was more of the beautiful English turf; and 
 innumerable birds making the ruins vocal with 
 the first songs of May. Having spent as much 
 time as we could spare, we went on to Guy's 
 Cliff, of which we had only the front view ; but 
 that is beautiful enough. We passed through a 
 delightful country, every inch of which is like a 
 garden, having views, near and distant, not only 
 of consummate beauty, but of great historical in- 
 terest. 
 
 About eleven o'clock we entered Stratford-on- 
 Avon, and stopped at an excellent inn in the same 
 street with the house in which Shakespeare was 
 born. It was not many minutes before I was 
 looking upon that insignificant building, one of 
 the most interesting spots in the world. 
 
 I called on Mr. F , to whom I had a letter, 
 
 and was most courteously received. We attended 
 the afternoon service in the church Where Shake- 
 speare attended. After service we stood before 
 the monument, and read with reverence the in-
 
 THE SHAKESPEARE HOUSE. 17 
 
 scription on that and on his tombstone. Then we 
 crossed the Avon, which flows directly under the 
 church, and walked over the delightful meadows, 
 spangled with the first flowers of spring, " the 
 daisies pied and violets blue." I felt that here 
 Shakespeare breathed in his inspiration ; here he 
 watched the wild -flowers, and learned to em- 
 broider his poetry with their amaranthine colors. 
 I fancied I felt whence his poetry was drawn, 
 and recalled Gray's lines on Shakespeare with a 
 clear perception of the fitness of every epithet. 
 
 " In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid, 
 What time, where lucid Avon strayed, 
 To him the mighty mother did unveil 
 Her awful face : the dauntless child 
 Stretched forth his little hand, and smiled. 
 ' This pencil take/ she said, ' whose colors clear 
 Richly paint the vernal year : 
 Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal boy ! 
 This can unlock the gates of Joy ; 
 Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, 
 Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.' " 
 
 We also went into all the apartments of the 
 Shakespeare house, saw the room in which he was 
 born, and inscribed our names there. Our walk 
 extended over the most beautiful part of the Avon 
 meadows, and just before we left them to return 
 to Henley Street, a nightingale the first, Mr. 
 
 F said, he had heard struck up two notes, 
 
 and only two, of the most liquid sweetness. 
 
 Now can you imagine a more beautiful group of 
 poetical circumstances? The first of May; a morn-
 
 18 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ing visit to Kenilworth Castle ; a drive through 
 the garden scenery of England ; arrival at Strat- 
 ford-on-Avon, after having crossed the winding 
 stream at many picturesque points ; a visit to the 
 house where Shakespeare was born ; attending 
 religious services in the fine old Gothic church, 
 approached by a beautiful avenue of lime-trees, 
 interlacing their boughs overhead, through an an- 
 cient burying-ground, the church where Shake- 
 speare worshipped, where he was married, where 
 he was buried, where the only authentic bust ex- 
 ists, where lies the tombstone over his dust with 
 his own epitaph, 
 
 " Good frend for Jesus' sake forbeare 
 To digg ye dust encloased here 
 Bleste be ye man yt spares yese stones, 
 And curst be he yt moves my bones," 
 
 where his "bones," in consequence of these sin- 
 gular lines, have been allowed to remain undis- 
 turbed, and will now remain so long as the world 
 shall stand, where his wife lies buried by his side, 
 and two of his sisters ; then a stroll over those 
 lovely meadows, which his footsteps had so often 
 printed ; gathering daisies, where he so often saw 
 them, just as we did, in the fresh beauty of the 
 spring ; listening to the nightingale " pouring his 
 throat," just as he listened ; returning, just as he 
 returned, over the old arched bridge, built long 
 before his day ; walking up the street where his 
 father lived, into the old market so familiar to his
 
 ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE. 19 
 
 eyes, again by the house where he was born. I 
 say, can you picture to yourself a finer or more 
 interesting combination of poetical circumstances 
 than were pressed together in these few hours ? 
 
 But this is not all. Mr. F made us all 
 
 come and take tea at his beautiful place. After tea 
 we strolled towards Henley, through a rich meadow 
 on a path between hedgerows, with thrushes sing- 
 ing the whole distance, to Clifton Manor, a 
 house of Shakespeare's time, then, by a foot- 
 path through the fields, to Anne Hatha way's cot- 
 tage in Shottery, the very path where Shake- 
 speare walked in the cool of the evening, just 
 at the time Shakespeare was wont to visit Anne ; 
 and while we walked, another nightingale poured 
 out a succession of notes which would have en- 
 chanted your very soul. Mrs. F drove the 
 
 girls in a pony carriage. We reached the cottage 
 early in the evening. It is still occupied by one 
 of the Hathaways. She showed us over it. We 
 sat on the settle where Shakespeare and Anne 
 used to sit and talk together, at the same hour in 
 the evening. We stood within the old huge fire- 
 place, where he had so often warmed himself in 
 winter, after a cold walk from Henley Street. 
 
 We looked over the old family Bible ; went 
 into the chamber where there is a richly carved 
 bedstead of oak, that has come down from the age 
 of Elizabeth ; sat on the seat of a spinning-wheel 
 once used by Anne ; came down and drank a glass 
 of fresh, sweet, delicious water, drawn by the rep-
 
 20 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 resentative of the Hathaways from the old well 
 covered with a broad stone, and bought some 
 printed sheets, containing the verses on Anne 
 Hathaway, popularly ascribed to the poet. 
 
 How beautifully the first stanza applies to the 
 scenery and circumstances, the evening, and the 
 song of birds, and the delightful spot ! 
 
 " Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng, 
 With love's sweet notes to frame your song 
 To pierce my heart with thrilling lay, 
 Listen to my Anne Hathaway. 
 She hath a way to sing so clear, 
 Phoebus might, wondering, stoop to hear, 
 To melt the sad, make blithe the gay, 
 To charm all hearts, Anne Hath-a-way : 
 
 She hath a way, 
 
 Anne Hath-a-way, 
 To breathe delight, Anne Hath-a-way." 
 
 And again : 
 
 " To make grief bliss, Anne Hath-a-way. 
 Talk not of gems, the Orient list; 
 The diamond, topaz, amethyst, 
 The emerald mild, the ruby gay, 
 Talk of my gem, Anne Hathaway 
 She hath a way with her bright eye, 
 Their various lustres to defy ; 
 The jewel she, the foil they, 
 So sweet to look, Anne Hath-a-way : 
 She hath a way, 
 Anne Hath-a-way, 
 To shame bright gems, Anne Hath-a-way." 
 
 We walked back to Mr. F 's, and passed a 
 
 most agreeable hour with his family. Was not 
 this a May-day to be remembered?
 
 OXFORD. 21 
 
 m. 
 
 LONDON, May 13, 1853. 
 
 WE left Stratford-on-Avon, after one of those 
 memorable days of association with the 
 past, under the most agreeable present circum- 
 stances, that so seldom happen to men. We trav- 
 elled thence to Oxford, stopping at Woodstock on 
 the way, to visit Blenheim palace. It is a wretched 
 building, disgraceful to the taste of the times when 
 the nation's gratitude expressed itself with osten- 
 tatious profusion to the first Duke of Marlborough. 
 It has a glorious park, however, and noble collec- 
 tions of works of art, by the best of the old mas- 
 ters. I shall not take up time by any minute 
 descriptions of these or other similar objects ; but 
 it was a great pleasure to me to see them. 
 
 Early in the afternoon we reached Oxford, the 
 city of monastic colleges and monastic men. The 
 impression made on me was not quite agreeable, 
 even at first. I delivered a letter to one of the 
 heads, for the purpose merely of getting a general 
 view of the University, as we intended to pass, for 
 the present, only a single night there. He re- 
 ceived me with the greatest courtesy, but, being 
 unwell, excused himself from personally attending
 
 22 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 us, and gave me a written paper which seemed 
 designed to open to our inspection everything 
 which we might desire to see. It was rather late, 
 and the Bodleian Library was shut for the day ; 
 but the Gallery, he said, we could visit. We pre- 
 sented ourselves at the entrance, having inquired 
 the way of one of the servitors of the University, 
 and on my showing the pass, " Sixpence for each 
 member of your party," was the salutation we 
 received before a single picture was exhibited. 
 Next we went into some of the public Examination 
 Rooms, and thence into Divinity College, which 
 was shown to us by a drunken porter. He had to 
 be paid ; and finally, the man who showed us to 
 the other two had to be paid. Thus, in less than 
 an hour we paid three fees for seeing two or three 
 only of the public buildings of the great university 
 city of England. I felt so indignant that I would 
 not proceed further. We returned to our lodg- 
 ings, and after tea strolled by ourselves through 
 some of the grounds and the beautiful quadrangles, 
 which are so delightful in Oxford. 
 
 In the evening, Mr. C , a Fellow of Wad- 
 ham College, came in. He is one of Mr. 's 
 
 friends, and a most amiable and accomplished 
 gentleman. He proposed taking us over his Col- 
 lege the next morning. We were charmed with 
 his conversation and manners. The next morning 
 it rained ; but he came punctually, in his academ- 
 ical costume, which they all wear, and showed and
 
 LONDON. 23 
 
 explained everything belonging to Wadham. I 
 presented my circular letter at the Bodleian Li- 
 brary ; the Librarian received us most courteously, 
 and took us over the apartments himself. 
 
 We left Oxford at two o'clock, in a dismal rain, 
 and reached London in about two hours. We 
 entered this great metropolis with a storm and fog ; 
 coal-smoke mingling with them, and reducing the 
 thing called here the atmosphere to a sooty consist- 
 ency as thick as molasses. P and I were on 
 
 the top of an omnibus, and had the full enjoyment 
 of this brilliant aspect of London. Nelson's mon- 
 ument and that of the Duke of York were dimly 
 discernible, as we drove within a hundred yards 
 of them. The houses called mostly huses 
 looked spectral as castles in the air. We had en- 
 gaged lodgings at John Chapman's, on the Strand, 
 the busiest part of the city, where we found 
 
 Mr. B and his family living in the American 
 
 boarding-house style. We made ourselves as 
 comfortable as we could, until the next morning. 
 
 The first thing I then did was to drive to 's 
 
 with the package I had for her. She is as charm- 
 ing as ever. Having despatched this important 
 piece of business, I drove next to Dickens's. He 
 was out, but I saw Mrs. Dickens, who asked me 
 to come and dine with them that day. 
 
 At the appointed hour I went to the house 
 again, having in the mean time seen Dickens 
 himself, and taken a long stroll with him about
 
 24 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 London ; visiting Gog and Magog in Guildhall ; 
 the Monument, which we ascended ; Bolt Court, 
 and other notable places. Forster had already 
 promised Dickens that he would dine with him 
 that day, and there I met him, so old a friend, 
 though now seen for the first time in propria 
 persona. I need not say that he was cordial as a 
 man could be, nor that we had a most agreeable 
 time. I have since then been with him almost 
 every day, and find him genial in the highest de- 
 gree, and one of the best-informed men on all mat- 
 ters of literature that I have ever seen. 
 
 In the evening we went to see Mons. Houdin, 
 the French conjurer, and were much entertained 
 by his admirable sleight of hand. 
 
 Next morning breakfasted with Forster alone, 
 and had a long talk with him on the slavery ques- 
 tion in the United. States. I think I succeeded in 
 explaining its constitutional bearings, so that he 
 has now, what few Englishmen have, a fair under- 
 standing of the whole matter. 
 
 Visited Westminster Abbey, and was deeply 
 impressed by the grandeur of the interior, as 
 well as by the hallowed associations of Poet's Cor- 
 ner. The Parliament House is beautiful, but 
 not impressive, except the old Westminster Hall. 
 The courts do not strike me as in any respect 
 more dignified than our own ; and in some partic- 
 ulars, dignity is the last attribute I should think 
 of applying to them. The wigs and scarlet robes
 
 LONDON SOCIETY. 25 
 
 of the judges form to my eye the most atrocious 
 masquerade that ever disguised the natural figure 
 of man. The judges are good-looking persons, but 
 when on the bench they and the counsel cut such 
 absurd figures, that the most skilful caricaturist 
 could not add to the grotesqueness of the scene. 
 
 May 2Qth. I have been now two weeks and a 
 half in this great capital ; busy every moment of 
 the time, and not, I hope, unprofitably so. I have 
 passed much time in the British Museum, study- 
 ing the Greek and Assyrian sculptures, an ad- 
 mirable preparation for Greece. Tell Agassiz I 
 have seen Sir Philip Egerton twice, and break- 
 fasted with him once. He is kind, simple, and 
 cordial in manners ; so young-looking that I 
 thought he must be his own son ; but he persisted 
 in saying he was himself. 
 
 Yesterday, dined with Forster. Have seen 
 many of the artists and some of the politicians. 
 To-day I go to Rogers's with Mrs. Dickens, and 
 then to the Zoological Gardens, then to the 
 French Theatre.
 
 26 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 SHERBORNE, Sunday, June 5. 
 
 YOU see by the date I am with Mr. . 
 Here he lives, in a lovely spot ; a large, old- 
 fashioned house, more than two centuries old, 
 of stone, but nearly covered with ivy, and rose- 
 bushes now in full blossom. Five minutes' walk 
 from here are Sherborne Castle and one of the 
 most beautiful parks in England. The grounds 
 about this house are not extensive, but are well 
 laid out, with a variety of trees, which at this mo- 
 ment are vocal with the song of birds. The air is 
 soft and delicious; the turf of the richest green, 
 and like velvet to the foot. 
 
 I arrived here yesterday from Bristol, having 
 made, during the last fortnight, a pretty extended 
 tour through England and Scotland. You will 
 remember that we passed our first week in a little 
 journey through a part of Wales and the West of 
 England to London. 
 
 We entered London in a violent and most disa- 
 greeable storm. For the next ten days the weather 
 was detestable ; but I managed to do nearly all I 
 expected to do, at the British Museum and other 
 places. I saw many interesting men, and trav-
 
 LONDON THEATRES. 27 
 
 ersed London in all directions. When P and 
 
 the girls went into Derbyshire, I changed my 
 lodging from the Strand, where I had a room that 
 overlooked the chimneys of London, to Bury 
 Street, St. James's, where I commanded an exten- 
 sive view of the mouldering face of an old wall, 
 with about two square feet of sunshine. Here I 
 remained a fortnight. The rest of the party made 
 a leisurely journey northward, through Derby- 
 shire, visiting many interesting places on the way 
 during this time. 
 
 London is a vast reality, which it requires time 
 and study to get an idea of. Its extent is amazing. 
 You seem to be journeying through an intermi- 
 nable wilderness of houses and streets. I have 
 spent days in walking through them, with no other 
 guide than the Indian has in the primeval forests, 
 traversing many miles by the course of the sun ; 
 and surely nothing truer was ever said, than that 
 a great city is a great solitude. Of certain classes 
 of objects I have seen a single specimen : for in- 
 stance, I went with Dickens, L , and one or 
 
 two others, to a low theatre, beyond Smithfield 
 Market, where the poorest classes of operatives seek 
 their amusement at the cost of sixpence. The 
 stage-box, which we took, cost us one and sixpence 
 apiece. Then I went once to the Covent Garden 
 Opera : the theatre magnificent, and the im- 
 mense audience made up of the richest and noblest 
 of the land, the performances by Grisi, Mario,
 
 28 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 and others being on a scale of perfection corre- 
 sponding to the character of the company. 
 
 A few evenings later I dropped into Matthews's 
 Theatre, and found him personating a Yankee, for 
 the amusement of the middle classes ; and doing 
 it very well, except that my native ear detected 
 several false idioms, and some confusion between 
 the dialects of the North and South. That, how- 
 ever, made no difference to the English ; since 
 they call by the name of Yankee whatever is 
 found between Canada and Mexico, and between 
 the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Finally, I went 
 one night to the French Play at St. James's Thea- 
 tre, a beautiful house, admirably arranged ; where 
 I had great pleasure in seeing M. Regnier, whom 
 I had met at Dickens's, play in " Le Bonhomme 
 Jadis," and in " Le Me'decin Malgre* lui " of Mo- 
 lie*re. This is all my theatrical experience ; though 
 I hope to see Rachel, who is now playing in Lon- 
 don, on my return. 
 
 I sent a copy of the London Times, con- 
 taining an account of the " Literary Fund Din- 
 ner," where I am put down as one of the speak- 
 ers. In an evil hour I consented, at the request 
 of the Americans in London, to respond to one of 
 the toasts, having already received an invitation 
 to be present. This was the day before the din- 
 ner. I had also an invitation to Sir Thomas Noon 
 Talfourd's for the same evening. The moment I 
 promised to make the speech, my peace of mind
 
 LITERARY FUND DINNER. 29 
 
 left me. I went home ; sat down to call together 
 my scattered thoughts ; wrote out the substance of 
 a speech ; lost the whole day in anxious medita- 
 tion ; spent two shillings for a shower-bath to 
 brace me up to the task ; got ready just as the 
 carriage came to the door ; and drove lugubriously 
 to the Freemasons' Tavern, where the dinner was 
 to take place. 
 
 Mr. D'Israeli was the chairman for the year. I 
 had a great curiosity to hear him, as he is quite the 
 leading orator of the House of Commons. He 
 was detained before a Committee on Bribery, until 
 some time after the appointed hour. Finally, we 
 were seated, and the dinner began ; but a man 
 who has a speech impending has no desire to eat, 
 still less to drink, until his agony is over. When 
 the company had appeased the " sacred rage," the 
 talking began. Mr. D'Israeli was received with 
 great applause ; but, though interesting, his speak- 
 ing does not approach Mr. Everett's in excel- 
 lence. He made several short speeches, and one 
 long one. I had written a note to Dickens to say 
 I would try to be at his house between nine and 
 ten o'clock, as I was to go with him to the party at 
 Talfourd's. But time wore on ; several other long 
 speeches quite as long as Americans make on 
 similar occasions, and not any better succeed- 
 ed : ten o'clock came ; the Bishop of O-whee-O 
 (Ohio) was called up to respond to some theo- 
 logical sentiment ; eleven o'clock came, and I sat
 
 30 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ruefully awaiting my immolation, inwardly resolved 
 that I would occupy just half a minute and then 
 run. But to my great relief, before they reached 
 the part of the programme where the old Lord 
 
 S and I were placed, there was a general 
 
 movement among the ladies at the end of the hall 
 to retire. This compelled the chairman to omit 
 all the rest of the speeches, and bring the dinner 
 to a sudden conclusion, so that all the extemporary 
 eloquence I had in my pocket remained unspoken. 
 I had sat on thorns the whole evening ; lost my 
 dinner ; lost the day ; lost the party at Talfourd's ; 
 and went speechless and supperless to bed. Was 
 I not a victim, on a most extensive scale ? A few 
 days later, Mr. Peabody, the American banker, 
 gave one of his splendid and costly entertainments 
 at Richmond Terrace. Mr. Van Buren, who had 
 arrived in England a few days before, was pres- 
 ent. It was really a most superb and recherche 
 dinner ; with every luxury of earth, sea, and air ; 
 and to crown the whole, a concert, in which the 
 best musicians of the Italian Opera Grisi, Ma- 
 rio, &c. performed. There were many very 
 distinguished persons present ; and as there were 
 to be no speeches except a brief one by the Amer- 
 ican Minister, and a bit of a reply by Mr. Van 
 Buren, I had no drawback to the pleasure of the 
 evening. We returned to London at two o'clock. 
 Pretty well for practical, sober Yankees. 
 
 I believe I mentioned to you a dinner-party at
 
 TABLE TURNING. 31 
 
 Dickens's, where I met Lord C ; Lord S 
 
 was also there. As this nobleman has become 
 somewhat distinguished in America on account of 
 his antislavery zeal, I will try to give you some 
 idea of him. He is tall, with a serious look ; with 
 large features, not without beauty. His man- 
 ner is wholly plain, sincere, and unaffected. Some 
 things in his public course had not given me a 
 pleasant impression of him. His influence has 
 always been opposed to the political enfranchise- 
 ment of the Jews, for instance. But, on the other 
 hand, he devotes his time and talents to the poor, 
 and takes the lead in every measure for the im- 
 provement and elevation of the working classes. 
 Through his agency, nearly one hundred thousand 
 people, who formerly lived in filthy lanes and 
 crowded cellars, are now comfortably established 
 in neat " model houses," for which they pay a 
 moderate rent ; and the good work is going on. 
 He walks about London by night as well as by 
 day, to see with his own eyes the gigantic mass 
 of vice and misery with which the city is infested ; 
 and the condition of the poor in the country is 
 equally well known to him. 
 
 Table-turning and spirit-rapping occupy the 
 minds of the London people, I might almost say, 
 more than any other subject. I have not entered 
 a house without hearing it discussed or seeing 
 experiments. The handsomest women and the 
 gravest men are full of wonder at the marvels they
 
 32 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 themselves accomplish ; and I have had several 
 rather warm debates with ladies and gentlemen 
 who persisted in seeing a mysterious law of na- 
 ture in what was evidently the .work of their own 
 fingers. 
 
 At 's a circle was formed each night I 
 
 was there, and the table went round. Nothing 
 could be plainer, in all the cases that I saw, than 
 that the people around the table, after getting 
 somewhat impatient, gave it a push ; and when 
 the pushing became strong and general enough 
 to overcome the resistance, then the table went 
 round, and not before. But they protested one 
 and all, and believed, that they did nothing, ex- 
 cept to hold their hands and will. We tried it 
 at Dickens's and at Forster's, with a fixed deter- 
 mination to give the experiment a perfectly fair 
 chance ; and the consequence was, in three or 
 four long trials, that neither table, nor hat, nor 
 anything else, moved a hair's breadth. 
 
 One day I went with Mrs. Dickens to call upon 
 Rogers. We found him in a very good condition 
 of mind, and ready to converse, though exces- 
 sively feeble. He is now between ninety and a 
 hundred years old. Mrs. Dickens took me, at his 
 request, over his house, and showed me the works 
 of art. The house is a bijou in its way, and has 
 a most delightful view, from the back window of 
 the drawing-room, into Green Park. It is a com- 
 bination of the loveliest features of the country, in
 
 VISIT TO ROGERS. 33 
 
 the very heart of the city. But, after all, the most 
 interesting thing was to see this old man, the 
 contemporary and friend of Johnson and Burke, 
 -to hear his anecdotes so wittily told, and to gaze 
 upon his face, so ancient, yet so lively, and into 
 his clear brown eye, as he sat wrapped up in his 
 easy chair, with a black skull-cap on his head. He 
 showed me Mr. Webster's letters to him, one of 
 which was written only six weeks before he died. 
 Before I came away it was arranged that I should 
 
 breakfast with him, to meet Sir D B 
 
 and a few other gentlemen, on the following Mon- 
 day morning. 
 
 I intended to tell you all about this breakfast, 
 but have already used up so much paper that I 
 must postpone it. The evening is now drawing 
 on, and to-morrow I return to London : thence 
 
 in a day or two to Paris, where P and the 
 
 girls now are. At least they parted from me at 
 Manchester, on Friday, intending to go to Paris 
 yesterday. 
 
 I would not leave England without coming here ; 
 and am very glad I did not. Love to all our 
 friends. 
 
 2*
 
 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 V. 
 
 CALAIS, June 8, 1853. 
 
 I LEFT London this morning, at half past nine 
 o'clock, for Dover and Calais, having taken a 
 ticket through to Paris. We travelled through a 
 delightful country, in all the glory of early sum- 
 mer ; the green fields, the blossoming trees, the 
 rose-hushes, loaded with their glowing honors ; the 
 day exquisite as heart could desire. I felt regret 
 at leaving friends in London, some of whom I shall 
 never see again ; but I knew that all the time al- 
 lotted to England was spent, and it was right to 
 go. The South of England is quite different from 
 the Midland, the East, West, or North. Its phys- 
 iognomy is marked and peculiar, but at the same 
 time thoroughly English ; no doubt owing, in 
 part, to the geological formations, which Agassiz 
 will explain to you. 
 
 We reached the Channel at Folkstone, and, 
 from that place to Dover, passed between the 
 " White Cliffs of Albion " and the British Chan- 
 nel. This sight for the first time seen called 
 up many pleasant associations, historical, poetic, 
 and romantic. Arriving at Dover, we had a 
 charming passage in a steamboat which was once 
 a gentleman's yacht, and is now a French gov-
 
 FROM DOVER TO CALAIS. 35 
 
 eminent steamer, with a French crew and officers. 
 Going on board I asked a question of a little boy ; 
 *' Monsieur, je ne comprends pas," was the an- 
 swer. Looking up, I saw the tricolor floating in 
 the breeze, and then I knew that I had left the 
 dominions of the English tongue. My first essay 
 in French was to ask the " Capitaine " at what time 
 the steamer would start : to which he replied, " A 
 deux heures et demi, quand les depeches de Lon- 
 dres serout arrives," and as I understood this per- 
 fectly well, I thought it best to stop here, and re- 
 treat from the conversation with flying colors. 
 
 There were some twenty passengers, a poor 
 Frenchman who looked as if he were returning 
 to belle France to die ; a party of three sisters, 
 rather old-maidish looking, with their brother ; a 
 mother with a very red face that spoke hogsheads 
 of beer, and a gay daughter, in a pink dress with 
 two or three deep flounces, pink cheeks, black 
 eyes, and a handsome figure, which she knew too 
 well ; a short, sturdy, thick-set Englishman, with 
 a cane, who took his place exactly in the centre 
 of the boat, and, planting both feet and cane 
 firmly on the deck, stood there, a living but mo- 
 tionless tripod, from the moment we left Dover till 
 we touched the pier at Calais ; a talkative Eng- 
 lishman, that rare bird on the earth, with his 
 wife, who went below to avoid sea-sickness ; and 
 myself engaged for the most part in studying 
 a French manual made up the number.
 
 36 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 I was pleased to get a whiff of the sea-breeze 
 again ; pleased to see the Castle of Dover, pictu- 
 resquely seated on a foreland, and looking out upon 
 the Channel ; and especially was I pleased to see 
 the cliffs, so memorable for having given the name 
 of Albion to England, and for having inspired one 
 of the grandest passages in Shakespeare. I gazed 
 long upon the beautiful line of these gleaming 
 heights ; but they almost vanished from sight be- 
 fore the shores of France rose dimly on the ho- 
 rizon. The sturdy Englishman took no note of 
 the disappearance of his native land ; but there he 
 stood, like the statue of Memnon on the Theban 
 plains, in his adamantine stolidity. 
 
 R. S had advised me to stop at the H6tel 
 
 Dessin ; so, when the steamer came to the land- 
 ing-place, and we walked ashore through the lines 
 of officials with red trousers and swords, I shouted 
 out, " HStel Dessin I " whereupon a burly but 
 very civil commissaire stepped forward, and with 
 a "Par ici, Monsieur," showed the way to an 
 omnibus which took me to the " Douane." 
 
 The HQtel Dessin, founded by the grandfather 
 of the present proprietor, is the very house where 
 Sterne commenced his " Sentimental Journey "; 
 and one of the chambers is known by his name 
 at the present hour. On leaving the Douane we 
 entered the city gate, drove through some queer- 
 looking streets, and an old square that looked like 
 the Methuselah of squares, into another queer old
 
 CALAIS. 37 
 
 street ; and there stood the Hotel, plain-look- 
 ing on the outside. Through the porte-cochere 
 we entered a paved courtyard, where I got out 
 of the omnibus, and was received by a polite 
 young gentleman of a waiter, who wished to know 
 if I desired a " chambre a coucher." " Oui, 
 Monsieur." "Par ici, Monsieur": upon which 
 he led me into a quadrangular garden, laid out in 
 old-fashioned, but very pretty style, full of flowers 
 and trees, among the branches of which a thousand 
 birds were singing, and under which seats were 
 placed for the visitors. From this we passed into 
 a hall, the colored windows of which made the 
 light most agreeable, and up a flight of stairs to 
 " numero trente," which was to be my room. 
 A very pleasant one it is : neatly furnished, with 
 two mirrors, a centre-table, side-table, and bureau ; 
 and looking out upon the lovely garden, the open 
 window letting in the soft summer air, the per- 
 fume of flowers, and the song of the birds. 
 
 By the time I had eaten my first French dinner 
 it was nearly evening, and I sallied forth to see 
 the city. First, I went to the old square, and 
 amused myself with watching the cheerful groups 
 of people, officials with their ensigns of office, 
 women with their neat caps, children, shopkeep- 
 ers, all chatting as fast as their tongues could 
 run. 
 
 Noticing in one corner of the square a book- 
 seller's shop, I stepped in ; and, for the sake of
 
 38 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 making a little conversation, I asked if he had 
 the Paris newspapers. He handed me one, 
 asked me some question, and from that we went 
 on talking of two or three subjects brought up by 
 books that I observed on his shelves ; one being 
 a copy of " La Cave du Pdre Tom," another a little 
 book upon " La Danse des Tables," as he called it. 
 I then bade him " Bon soir," and strolled out to 
 the ramparts. From the top of them is a fine 
 view of the sea and the country, as well as of the 
 town of Calais. Having spent about an hour 
 longer very agreeably in this manner, sometimes 
 asking questions for the sake of a little exercise in 
 French, I returned to the hotel.
 
 JOURNEY TO PARIS. 39 
 
 VI. 
 
 PARIS, Sunday, June 12. 
 
 AT eight o'clock on Thursday morning the 
 train was to start for Paris ; so I had to be 
 up betimes. It was a protty long journey. The 
 country, for a great part of the way, is flat ; and 
 the land not so trim, neat, and carefully cultivated 
 as in England ; but the little villages and the farm- 
 houses are much the same in external appearance. 
 I had bought of my bookseller at Calais a copy 
 of " La Danse des Tables," and one of a play now 
 having a good reception in Paris, called " L'Hon- 
 neur et 1' Argent," so that I had amusement 
 enough all day. The first-named book is curious, 
 and shows that this fantastic humbug has taken a 
 strong hold of people here. In Germany, still 
 more. They call the spirit-rappers there " Klopf- 
 geister," knock-ghosts, and the stories circulat- 
 ed are of the intensest nonsense. They carry the 
 moving much farther than we do. They have dis- 
 covered that if, instead of a table, a man is placed in 
 the centre, in a short time the fluid acts upon him, 
 as it does upon tables and hats ; and he whirls 
 round in spite of himself, from right to left, as 
 long as the experiment lasts.
 
 40 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 I had a very delightful journey, keeping both 
 eyes wide open and listening to the conversa- 
 tion, and I am really pleased to find how well I 
 can get along. We arrived at Paris at five 
 
 O O 
 
 o'clock ; but as the passengers were cooped up for 
 some time longer in a room at the custom-house, 
 to have their luggage examined, we did not get 
 fairly into the city until after six. 
 
 Driving to the Hotel Meurice, I found that 
 
 1^ had left it, and taken rooms in the Rue 
 
 de Luxemburg, No. 25, where we are all now 
 quietly established. 
 
 I have seen but few places yet ; but have passed 
 through the state-rooms of the Tuileries, and 
 
 O * 
 
 magnificent they are, and the galleries of the 
 Louvre, which are endless. I have walked through 
 all the principal streets of Paris. Yesterday we 
 all went to the Hippodrome, and saw some good 
 riding and driving ; among the rest a capital 
 representation of an ancient four-horse chariot 
 race, only the drivers were women, superbly 
 
 dressed in Greek costume. To-day L and 
 
 I attended service in the church of Notre Dame 
 de Paris. 
 
 Mr. T called this afternoon ; A also : 
 
 and in a little while in walked M. Ampere. He 
 
 was very cordial ; and inquired after the A s 
 
 with great interest. We are all going to hear his 
 lectures, and several other courses, in the College 
 de France.
 
 LECTURES IN PARIS. 41 
 
 July 6. To-morrow we set out for Germany 
 and Switzerland, having passed a very agreeable 
 and instructive month in this gay capital. We 
 have liked our apartments much. We found it more 
 comfortable, as well as more economical, to keep 
 house ; so we hired a good cook who was recom- 
 mended to us, and who has proved to be faithful 
 and honest, and have lived as we pleased. We 
 are nearly in the centre of Paris. Our street 
 takes us in two minutes to the delightful gardens 
 of the Tuileries, a few rods from which is the 
 Place de la Concorde, the most magnificent as- 
 semblage of interesting objects ; the Champs 
 Elyse"es on one side ; on the other, the galleries 
 of the Louvre, nd the Place de Carrousel. The 
 Place Vend6me, with the glorious column, is in 
 the next street ; and the Boulevards are within a 
 stone's throw. The Cathedral of Notre Dame 
 is at a considerable distance, on the island, an 
 ancient part of the city ; but the exquisite church 
 of the Madeleine is just round the corner. 
 
 Our stay here has been anything but idle ; 
 a French lesson from a very good teacher, who has 
 come every morning, for an hour ; then, gener- 
 ally, reading for an hour or two ; and the rest of 
 the day spent in seeing the libraries, collections, 
 churches, and public places of the city ; or attend- 
 ing lectures at the College de France and the Sor- 
 bonne. I have heard as many lectures as I could 
 of Ampere's course ; and a portion of Philarete
 
 42 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Chasles's, who closed his course with a rhapsody 
 about Miss Harriet Farley, the Editor of the 
 Lowell Offering. These lectures are attended not 
 only by young fellows like me, but by old gentle- 
 men decorated with the ribbon of the Legion of 
 Honor, old ladies, who sometimes bring their sew- 
 ing, and young ladies, who take notes. 
 
 I have been at several of the theatres ; not often, 
 yet often enough to understand the character of 
 dramatic art here. Last Saturday, the piece called 
 " Bertrand et Raton " was performed by command 
 of the Emperor, at the Theatre Fran^ais. I had 
 seen it once, but had not seen their Majesties ; so 
 we all went, having procured tickets with some 
 difficulty. We had a good box, /rom which we 
 could see the whole house (and a most brilliant 
 one it was) and the imperial box. Their Majes- 
 ties came in at the commencement of the principal 
 piece. There was some applause in the pit, but 
 
 not much in the boxes, except in ours. G 
 
 and I shouted " Vive FEmpereur ! " and " Vive 
 I'lmpe'ratrice ! " at the top of our voices, and some 
 moustached Frenchmen, in our neighborhood, 
 peeped round to see who those fierce imperialists 
 were. The Emperor looked well ; his dress being 
 simple, except the grand order of the Legion of 
 Honor. The Empress is a woman of sweet and 
 gracious beauty. In an age of chivalry, she would 
 be worshipped. She was dressed in pure white, 
 with superb diamond ornaments, flashing from the 
 most beautiful arms and neck in France.
 
 EESTORATION OF PARIS. 43 
 
 The imperial pair behaved very much like other 
 people ; chatted and laughed together ; applauded 
 the good hits in the piece ; used their opera-glasses 
 to spy out their friends ; and when the play was 
 over, withdrew quietly to go home. At the door 
 of the theatre a large crowd had assembled, and 
 the imperial cortege was saluted again with ac- 
 clamations as it passed on under a strong guard 
 of mounted troops. 
 
 Napoleon is making this city the most splendid 
 in the world. Many streets he is almost entirely 
 rebuilding ; ancient churches he is clearing from the 
 rubbish of ages, and restoring ; old tumble-down 
 houses he is removing. This business has become 
 so important, that a Bureau des Demolitions has 
 been established near the HQtel de Ville, and it has 
 become a common joke to say of such or such a man, 
 " He belongs to the new class in society, la classe 
 des demolish The people have no objection to all 
 this : it puts vast sums of money in circulation ; 
 furnishes employment to thousands of workmen ; 
 the " demolished " get heavy damages ; and the 
 expenditure will be more than made up to the 
 country by the increased value of property, and the 
 enhanced splendors of Paris. The army is in the 
 highest state of efficiency. They want to fight, es- 
 pecially with Russia, as an old soldier at the Inva- 
 lides said to me, " Pour se venger des Cossaques." 
 The Emperor reviews them often in person ; and 
 has gained great popularity by taking the com- 
 mand and manoeuvring them himself.
 
 44 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Most of the royalists at least, the most rational 
 and the best informed among them support the 
 Emperor, as the least of two evils. I have made 
 the acquaintance of several of the most eminent 
 
 men belonging to this party here. One, M. D , 
 
 who lives apart from politics, and more in the past 
 than the present, gave me a great deal of very in- 
 teresting information. He is quite a gentleman of 
 the old school, handsome, grave, almost sad in 
 expression, with pale face and gray hair, high 
 and white forehead, with a white cravat at 
 eight o'clock in the morning. His manner is 
 frank, genial, and urbane. 
 
 He said at once, " I am a Catholic and a roy- 
 alist ; what are you?" 
 
 " I am a Unitarian and a republican." 
 
 " Ah," said he, " I cannot conceive a religion 
 without a belief in Jesus Christ." 
 
 I said, " We, too, believe in Jesus Christ," and 
 attempted to explain, as well as I could, in my 
 imperfect French, the different shades of belief 
 prevalent among the Unitarians, that we did 
 not believe Christ to be God, but many of us be- 
 lieved him to be more than man. 
 
 u To me," he answered, " Jesus Christ is 
 God. I say these things, not in a proselyting 
 spirit, but to let you see my manner of thinking, 
 ma maniere de penser. I accept the dogmas of 
 the Catholic Church as the truth of God." 
 
 Speaking of the influence of government on
 
 DE LA ROCHEJAQUELEIN. 45 
 
 religion, he pronounced it " fatal," "funeste." 
 Speaking of books he said, " You must read Bos- 
 suet." I told him I had read the " Oraisons Fu- 
 nebres." " Then read 'his work on the Errors of 
 Protestantism." " I have read it, and am yet a 
 Protestant." 
 
 He told me he thought Reyboul of Nimes the 
 first poet of the age in France, that he had 
 written passages as good as any in Racine ; and 
 he recited a tender and exquisite little poem called 
 " L'Ange et 1'Enfant," with so much feeling and 
 elegance, that I resolved to get his works. 
 
 Another very eminent coyalist is the Marquis 
 de la Rochejaquelein, who has just published a book 
 on the present state of France. He is the son of 
 the famous La Rochejaquelein, of Vendean mem- 
 ory, whose history you know ; and he possesses 
 much of his father's spirit and talent. I went to see 
 him with a letter of introduction from M. Defresne. 
 I found him in a handsome apartment, and living in 
 elegant style. He is very stout, tall, and power- 
 ful in person, his features regular, and his whole 
 expression amiable. He was cordial and hearty 
 in his reception of me. Speaking of his own work, 
 on " The Condition of France," he said : " It con- 
 tains the truth, and this is the reason why nobody 
 has attacked me for it. I had nothing to do with 
 the overthrow of the Republic ; but a republic is 
 not suited to the French people. I support the 
 present government, not from sentiment, but from
 
 46 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 reason. I am a royalist ; but I see that the Prince 
 Napoleon has saved the country from anarchy. 
 His government is not, in itself, the government of 
 my choice. But if you go to a man, and say to him, 
 4 My dear Sir, your house is badly built, and is out 
 of repair : the ceiling has fallen in ; the walls are 
 broken ; it lets in the cold ; it lets in the rain and 
 the wind, why don't you leave it ? ' and the poor 
 man answers, ' All this is very true ; but, under the 
 present circumstances, it is the best I can get ; it is 
 the only one possible ' ; what can you say ? " 
 
 I told him that I had been much instructed by 
 his book, but that, in conversation with a lady the 
 other day, on my remarking that, so far as I could 
 judge, Louis Napoleon had saved France from a 
 civil war, her answer was, " I prefer civil war 
 to the present state of things." 
 
 " Ah," said La Rochejaquelein, " there would 
 have been a civil war ; but not in the ordinary 
 sense of the term. I understand very well what 
 civil war means between two great parties, or 
 where some profound principle is at stake, as in 
 
 the Vendean war. But in France, at the time of 
 
 i 
 
 the coup d'etat, there were several parties, and 
 many subordinate factions. The Socialists were 
 split up into three or four sections, which, instead 
 of combining, would have fought one another ; and 
 so of other parties. It would have been a civil war 
 with many sides ; it would have been anarchy and 
 chaos ; and anarchy and chaos would have led in-
 
 JASMIN. 47 
 
 evitably to despotism. We have a despotism now, 
 it is true ; but its conditions are such that it has 
 no need of cruelty, and it is not cruel. In the 
 other case, the despotism would have been driven 
 into cruelty by the force of circumstances, by 
 the exasperation of the struggle. I prefer things 
 as they are. But there are many tetes montees, 
 
 who think otherwise. There is Madame , from 
 
 America. They are braves gens; but Madame 
 
 admires Ledru Rollin, Louis Blanc, Maz- 
 
 zini, Kossuth, tons ces aventuriers, ces ambi- 
 tieux, who do much harm in the world. I like 
 
 Madame much ; she has beaucoup d 1 esprit, 
 
 beaucoup ^intelligence; she has read much, but 
 knows nothing, absolutely nothing, of France." 
 
 When I took leave of him, he said, " I shall 
 come and see you in Cambridge, when we can 
 travel by the electric telegraph, and we shall 
 come to that at last. But I am too old to go so far 
 in any other way. Ah ! it would be a fine thing 
 to go from Paris to Boston in half a minute ! " 
 
 One of the pleasantest things that has happened 
 to me here is the making the acquaintance of 
 Jasmin, the poet of Agen. You know some- 
 thing about him. Longfellow translated one of 
 his pieces, " The Blind Girl of Castel-CuilleV' 
 I wish you would read that translation in connec- 
 tion with what I am going to tell you. 
 
 He was a poor boy, apprenticed to a barber at 
 Agen in the South of France ; but he early showed
 
 48 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 extraordinary poetical talent, composing in his na- 
 tive dialect, the Gascon. This has been a patois 
 for the last three or four centuries ; but it is in 
 fact the representative of the language of the Trou- 
 badours. It is more rhythmical than the French, 
 and is free from its nasal tones, resembling the 
 Italian and Spanish. Jasmin, in the intervals 
 of hair-dressing, wrote in this dialect, and recited 
 his pieces to his countrymen. They were aroused 
 to enthusiasm by this poetical delineation of their 
 daily life, and his fame soon spread far and near. 
 Wherever he went, multitudes gathered around 
 him, and the days of old King Rene* and the Trou- 
 badours seemed to have returned. In the course 
 of time, the French scholars and critics found this 
 poetical phenomenon worthy of their attention. A 
 poem of his, called Fran$onette, established his 
 fame. To make a long story short, he has pub- 
 lished three volumes of poems under the title of 
 Las Papillotos, or " Curl-Papers," without aban- 
 doning his original profession of barber. The last 
 volume has been crowned with a prize of five thou- 
 sand francs by the French Academy, and when I 
 arrived in Paris he was here to make his ac- 
 knowledgments. 
 
 I had been invited to meet him at the salon of 
 Madame Blaze de Bury, a sort of Madame de 
 Stael, author of a work in French on Austria, 
 Hungary, &c. Well, I went. The company was 
 small, and what they call choisie. Jasmin was,
 
 JASMIN'S PERSONAL TRAITS. 49 
 
 of course, the lion, as he has been everywhere in 
 Paris. He talks with immense rapidity, fire, and 
 animation, is very frank and hearty in his man- 
 ners, speaks with freedom of himself and his 
 works, and is, in all respects, a child of nature, 
 and that nature Southern. He is now about fifty- 
 five years old, with a face of infinite expression, 
 and already marked with deep lines traced by the 
 ardent emotions that have inspired his poetical 
 career. His dark hair and complexion, his flash- 
 ing eye and varying voice, present an exterior 
 perfectly in harmony with his genius. We had 
 the great and rare pleasure of hearing him recite 
 some of his best pieces ; and what a singular ex- 
 hibition it was ! It was not acting ; it was not dec- 
 lamation ; but it was a reproduction of the poetical 
 spirit of the pieces, by voice, eye, hand, attitude, 
 and gesture. It was wonderful and perfect. He 
 was possessed and overmastered by the inspira- 
 tion. Perhaps you remember what I said in my 
 lectures about the old Ionian rhapsodists ; he is 
 a perfect illustration. In the pathetic passages 
 he wept with uncontrollable feeling ; and I saw 
 the tears flowing down many a cheek. 
 
 I had a long conversation with him, and was 
 greatly delighted with his unaffected good sense, 
 as well as with his incomparable vivacity ; and I 
 could perfectly understand the fact, that on many 
 occasions he has been listened to by four or five 
 thousand people, with an indescribable enthusi-
 
 50 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 asm, that he has filled the theatres of Southern 
 France, when even Rachel had half the boxes empty. 
 
 But these exhibitions have not been for himself ; 
 they have been for charitable objects. He has 
 poured wealth into the treasuries of public insti- 
 tutions ; he has finished churches that had re- 
 mained unfinished for centuries ; and the cities of 
 the South have vied with one another in bestowing 
 public honors on their poetical benefactor. Two 
 cities have granted him their arms ; others have 
 sent him superb seal-rings ; others, the freedom of 
 the corporation. The French Academy has de- 
 creed that his language is a national language, and 
 that he is a national poet ; and the higher literary 
 celebrities of France study and applaud his works. 
 I have sent home some books, and among them is 
 a copy of Las Papillotos, in which he has written 
 a few lines, and marked the pieces he recited at 
 Lady Bury's. Since Lady Bury's soiree I have 
 seen him many times, and he has- come to see us. 
 I have seen on his table the cards of the greatest 
 names in Paris ; and the most celebrated salons 
 have striven eagerly to secure his presence. His 
 stay here has been a round of the most brilliant 
 triumphs. 
 
 A week ago, he with his wife and son break- 
 fasted with us, and I do not know that I ever 
 enjoyed anything more. After breakfast, at my 
 request, he read one of his poems. I was anx- 
 ipus that L and H should hear him.
 
 VISIT FROM JASMIN. 51 
 
 The night before last M. and Mme. Jasmin 
 spent the evening here. We invited our fellow- 
 passengers, Mr. and Mrs. I , and a few others, 
 
 to come. They remained several hours, and Jas- 
 min not only read one of his best pieces, but sang 
 a song, which is introduced into one of the longer 
 poems, to a popular air of the South. All agreed 
 that the entertainment of the evening was one of 
 the most delightful we had had in Paris. 
 
 The bust of Jasmin has been taken recently. 
 Portraits innumerable were already in existence. 
 I was looking at the bust with him one day, and 
 asked him what he thought of it. He took my 
 memorandum-book and wrote, in his language, an 
 epigram, which I translate as follows : 
 
 " Though we 're alike, the likeness is but small : 
 I talk too much ; the bust talks not at all." 
 
 I forgot to mention, that after breakfast the other 
 
 morning, little E came into the room fresh as 
 
 a rose. Her bright, animated face, intelligent and 
 sparkling eyes, and unusually fresh coloring de- 
 lighted the poet. He took her in his arms and 
 kissed her again and again ; and seeing my writing- 
 desk open, he sat down and wrote a little poem, 
 marked by great sweetness and beauty. You may 
 be sure that H keeps it as a precious me- 
 morial. 
 
 I could fill up many pages with Jasmin ; but 
 time is passing on, and we leave Paris at one
 
 52 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 o'clock to-day. I sent the other day to a 
 
 copy of the " Journal des Debats," containing M. 
 Mignet's Eloge on Jouffroy. I had the good for- 
 tune to hear it, at the annual seance of the Insti- 
 tute, to which M. Ampdre gave me a ticket of 
 admission. It was delivered in the best style of 
 academic eloquence, and the occasion was one of 
 unusual interest. I have attended also one of the 
 ordinary meetings of the Institute. 
 
 A word about Reyboul, the poet. You will 
 find two volumes of his in the parcel of books. 
 Read particularly " L'Ange et 1'Enfant" ; and you 
 will agree with M. Defresne. Reyboul is a baker. 
 An artist here in Paris told me he went once to 
 Nimes to see him. Calling on him at ten o'clock, 
 he inquired for M. Reyboul. " Do you wish to 
 see Reyboul the baker, or Reyboul the poet ? " 
 " Reyboul the poet." " Be so good, then, as to 
 call again at five o'clock, P. M., and you will find 
 him here." He passed the day as well as he 
 could, and at five called again. Seeing the same 
 person, he said, " Why, I had the honor of seeing 
 you this morning." " Yes, but I was then Rey- 
 boul the baker ; I am now Reyboul the poet."
 
 BADEN-BADEN. 53 
 
 vn. 
 
 FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN, July 13, 1853. 
 
 I WROTE last under the spire of the Strasburg 
 Minster. From Strasburg we went to Baden- 
 Baden, a beautifully situated place, nestled among 
 the mountains, but shamefully perverted to the 
 Devil's worst worship, gambling. I did not 
 go to see the famous hell ; but we all spent the 
 greater part of the day in going up to the old 
 castle, which overlooks the town from the brow of 
 a neighboring hill. It is an immense structure ; 
 but the walls have fallen, and trees have grown in 
 their crevices, and have toppled down, lying now 
 across halls and chambers, and interminglinor their 
 
 7 o o 
 
 green with the dark-red ruins around. There are 
 steps along the walls, and bridges or walks around 
 some of the apartments as you ascend from story 
 to story. One old tower is nearly entire, and from 
 its summit the black mountains, the Baden valley, 
 and the distant Rhine are in sight, forming one of 
 the grandest pictures anywhere to be seen. Some 
 one has placed a huge JEolian harp high up in an 
 opening of the wall ; and as there is always a fresh 
 breeze, the endless passages, halls, enclosures, and 
 chambers of the old castle are filled with a wailing 
 
 O
 
 54 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 sound, which one might mistake in the night for 
 the eternal moaning of some lovelorn Ermengarde, 
 who, forced by her father, the iron-hearted Baron 
 Ruprecht, to marry a grisly old count from the 
 Black Forest, though she was in love with the 
 yellow-haired Blondel, hrave as he was graceful, 
 skilled alike in feats of arms and in playing min- 
 nelieder on the cithern, threw herself headlong 
 from the wall, in the vain hope, not only of escap- 
 ing the hated nuptials, which she effectually 
 did, but of ending her sorrows with her life. 
 There now, that sentence contains the germ of a 
 romance, in three volumes. Take it, and add all 
 the rest. 
 
 Seriously, it is a wonderful old castle, and is 
 worth a hundred histories to give one an idea of 
 the Middle Ages. 
 
 From Baden we went to Heidelberg, where 
 we passed nearly two days. I called on Professor 
 Bahr, the editor of Herodotus. He took me 
 over the library, showed me the precious collec- 
 tion of old manuscripts, and many other things of 
 the highest interest in a literary point of view. 
 
 After this, I clambered up alone to the Castle 
 of Heidelberg, which also is a very interesting 
 bit of mediaeval and modern history. The old 
 tun is watched over by the statue of the prince's 
 jester, who used to drink from fifty to a hun- 
 dred bottles a day. His painted eye rolls with 
 a kind of leering regret toward the empty giant ;
 
 GOETHE'S BIRTHPLACE. 55 
 
 and when you knock against the sides of the tun, a 
 hollow and melancholy sound reverberates through 
 the cellar, seeming to say, " Vanity of vanities, 
 all is vanity ! " The knights, who stand in 
 niches along the walls, are weather-stained and bat- 
 tered by storms and leaden bullets ; and, though 
 venerable, are gradually crumbling into dust. But 
 the green ivy, winding over many parts of the 
 walls, has taken a playful freak to caress one of 
 the old men of stone, and has formed a verdant 
 frame, with an arch over his head ; and there he 
 stands, in a kind of sandstone amazement, look- 
 ing silently down from his perch of centuries, 
 apparently thinking himself a good deal better off 
 than his neighbors. 
 
 From Heidelberg we came to Frankfort, where 
 I am now writing. We arrived last evening, and 
 you may be sure I was not long in finding my 
 way to the monument of Goethe, one of the 
 noblest works of Schwanthaler, and perhaps the 
 very noblest tribute ever paid by Art to Poetry. 
 I saw it first in the lessening light of evening ; 
 next, under that of the moon ; and again, this 
 morning, twice, in the full light of day. 
 
 I went from the monument, last night, to the 
 house where Goethe was born. It is an old 
 mansion, not in what is now the best street 
 of Frankfort, but spacious, rising three or four 
 stories, each projecting a little over those below. 
 Oddly enough, Menzel, in his violent attack on
 
 56 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Goethe, accuses him of sympathizing only with 
 the porcelain part of the human race ; and now 
 the ground floor of the house where he was born 
 has become a porcelain shop ! The upper stories 
 are occupied by families, apparently of people in 
 the working-classes, though the general aspect of 
 the house, especially the spacious hall, the broad 
 staircase, and the landings, give evidence of its 
 former patrician and stately character. Goethe's 
 study, where he wrote many of his early pieces, 
 is kept sacred to sixpences. A drawing of his, 
 some pieces of his handwriting, the bed where 
 he slept, several figures, a portrait, and some other 
 memorials, were shown to us. We entered our 
 names in the visitor's book, paid the slatternly 
 German a few kreutzers, and left the house. 
 
 I tried to find where Goethe, the father, was 
 buried, but could not. The stiff old patrician 
 has passed as completely out of the memory, as 
 he has out of the sight, of the city in which he 
 was once a very conspicuous figure. Goethe 
 himself lies buried in Weimar, by the side of the 
 Grand Duke. 
 
 We went to see Danneker's Ariadne, in a pa- 
 vilion in the gardens belonging to Bethmann, the 
 banker. I have seen many engravings of it, but 
 none that gave the slightest idea of the wonder- 
 ful grace and beauty of the original. It is placed 
 in a room, under a light coming through a col- 
 ored medium, the purple light, so often sung
 
 FRANKFORT CATHEDRAL. 57 
 
 by poets, and the loveliness of the effect is in- 
 describable. None of the praises bestowed upon 
 this work have been exaggerated. 
 
 From here we strolled through the delightful 
 gardens of the suburbs ; then through some of 
 the narrow streets, and the markets, where the 
 market-women were selling, in provincial Ger- 
 man, their vegetables and fruits. The old Cathe- 
 dral, where the Emperors were crowned, as long 
 as Emperors were, is surrounded by these mar- 
 kets. We went in, saw the throne and other 
 imperial mementos, looked at the old pictures, 
 statues, blazons, that hang on the walls, and 
 then betook ourselves to the Kaisersaal, a hall of 
 the Emperors, where they all stand painted by 
 the best masters of the Diisseldorf school, and 
 filling niches in the wall. 
 
 3*
 
 58 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 DRESDEN, July 22, 1853. 
 
 FROM Frankfort we went to Mentz, where we 
 saw the Cathedral, just as the gloom of even- 
 ing was coming on. It gave a solemn effect to 
 the quaint old aisles, crowded with the statues of 
 mitred princes who once ruled as military priests 
 over this beautiful region. I do not know that I 
 have ever felt a profounder solemnity than in 
 walking through the cloisters of the older parts of 
 the Cathedral, paved with tombstones of the an- 
 cient abbots, whose carved likenesses, half effaced 
 by the footsteps of the generations that have suc- 
 ceeded them, still looked up through the shadowy 
 light of evening, with a stony silence that went to 
 my heart more than any human speech. As I 
 was walking, in deep meditation, over these name- 
 less ecclesiastics, suddenly I came upon the mon- 
 ument of Frauenlob, the Minnesinger. I had 
 forgotten that he was buried here ; and the sur- 
 prise and pleasure I experienced were like the joy 
 of an unexpected meeting with an old friend. I 
 always had a liking for this poet ; he was a warm- 
 hearted, noble old minstrel ; true in his devotion 
 to women, and so much beloved by them that
 
 THE RHINE. 59 
 
 eight of them bore his body to the grave, and 
 poured over the tomb so much wine that it over- 
 flowed the neighboring cloisters. These facts are 
 duly -commemorated on the monument. A statue 
 of Frauenlob has recently been erected near the 
 tomb. 
 
 From Mentz we went on board the steamer, 
 to make the voyage down the Rhine. There had 
 been a heavy thunder-storm the night before, and 
 the sky was still overcast. Soon rain came on, 
 with intervals of sunshine, that gave a very singu- 
 lar and striking aspect to the scene. 
 
 The rest of the party, fearing a stormy day, 
 and unwilling to lose the beauties of the Rhine 
 scenery, stopped at Bingen, but I continued my 
 journey, being desirous of seeing the city of Bonn 
 and its University. I was not sorry I did ; for 
 though there were showers through the day, they 
 only gave an additional variety to the celebrated, 
 but not too celebrated, region of vineyards, castles, 
 crags, and beautiful villages through which this 
 river flows. There were some droll people on 
 board : among them an American, who looked a 
 long time in vain on his map for Cologne ; and 
 when a gentleman, better informed, pointed out 
 Coin as the place he was seeking, said, " Wall, 
 now, who would have thought that C-o-l-n spelt 
 Cologne ? " Most of the passengers spent their 
 time in eating, drinking, and smoking. Not so an 
 English mother and two sentimental daughters,
 
 60 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 who were constantly calling to each other with 
 the invariable question, " Is not that very pictu- 
 resque ? " 
 
 I reached Bonn before evening, and immedi- 
 ately went to see Professor Welcker, one of the 
 best classical scholars in Germany, and one of the 
 most amiable men. I spent the evening very 
 pleasantly in his company. He has visited Greece, 
 and could give me many interestihg and valuable 
 details. The next morning I called on the Baron 
 von Ronne, formerly the Prussian Minister to 
 the United States. He was very kind and cour- 
 teous ; gave me nearly the whole forenoon, taking 
 me to see all the objects of interest in Bonn, and 
 introducing me to Professor Simrock, whom I was 
 very glad to know, as I had long known his works. 
 
 Baron von Ronne told me he had translated 
 Webster's letter to Hulsemann. He admired 
 Webster much, and deplored his death as a ca- 
 lamity to the whole world. I begged him to give 
 me a copy of his translation, which he did. It is 
 an interesting fact for Mr. Webster's biography. 
 
 I dined with Professor Welcker, and in the af- 
 ternoon took the train for Cologne, where I found 
 the rest of the party. There is but little there 
 except the Cathedral, and that is one of the won- 
 ders of the world. I was glad there was nothing 
 else to break or disturb the impression of this mar- 
 vellous old pile, with its massive columns, won- 
 derful colored windows, and grand roof. It is
 
 MEMORIALS OF FREDERIC THE GREAT. 61 
 
 still incomplete, and will be so for many years ; 
 but, in its way, it fills the mind with a sense of 
 sublimity that leaves nothing to be desired. 
 
 From Cologne we made a long day's journey to 
 Berlin, where we passed two or three days ; not 
 without interest, but not so profitably as I ex- 
 pected. I saw Professor Ritter, a fine, healthy, 
 pleasant old gentleman. He spoke with great 
 regard of Mr. Guyot, and was very obliging to 
 me. We spent nearly half a day in the royal 
 palace, the King being absent at Potsdam, his 
 usual summer residence. 
 
 There is a collection of queer old things in the 
 upper rooms or garrets of the palace : quan- 
 tities of antique furniture, carvings in ivory, 
 old rusty swords, cocked hats worn by ancient 
 kings and generals. But the oddest thing of 
 all is a wax figure of Frederic the Great, with 
 the clothes, staff, boots, and cocked hat he wore 
 when alive, sitting in an old chair, and look- 
 ing with a droll expression over the motley as- 
 semblage of ricoco by which he is surrounded. 
 He made such an uproar in the world while he 
 was alive, that I could not help wondering he 
 should sit so quietly now ; and I half expected to 
 see him jump up with a mighty oath, or kick the 
 old rickety furniture into a thousand pieces. On 
 another side of the same room is a cast taken from 
 him after death, a thin, dismal-looking face, with 
 the mouth twisted into a horrible contortion by
 
 62 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the last agonies ; and lying by it, as if to ridicule 
 the presumption of the old King, is a sentence 
 from one of his letters to D'Alembert, "I will 
 keep a smiling countenance when they bury me." 
 To see this terror of the earth, this mighty war- 
 rior, this friend of Voltaire, this would-be model 
 of conqueror, philosopher, king, sitting in wax to 
 be stared at by strangers in his own garret, for 
 a silver groschen apiece, is something of a lesson 
 on the vanity of human greatness. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day we went 
 down to Potsdam, to call on Humboldt, who is 
 always the King's guest, and to see the gardens 
 of Sans-Souci. I sent Agassiz's letter to Hum- 
 boldt's apartments, with an inquiry whether he 
 would see us then, or would appoint some other 
 hour. He was going out to dine with the King, 
 but would receive us for a few minutes. I never 
 saw a man who was so well represented by the 
 prints; the likeness is most remarkable. He 
 seemed well and vigorous ; asked about Agassiz, 
 spoke of him in affectionate terms, and wished to 
 know why he did not come over to see him. 
 
 I told him he would probably come out next 
 summer. 
 
 " Ah," said Humboldt, " I shall not be here to 
 welcome him." 
 
 I said I trusted he would " live and labor for 
 many years to come." 
 
 He shook his head, and said he was too old for
 
 VISIT TO HUMBOLDT. 63 
 
 that. We gave him a copy of the " Webster 
 Memorial." He expressed the highest opinion 
 of Mr. Webster, but seemed very indignant at 
 the Fugitive Slave Law, which he appeared to 
 think was a law to reduce all the blacks to slavery. 
 
 " Here in Prussia," said he, " every man is free ; 
 but in America you make men slaves." 
 
 I said there were constitutional relations of the 
 subject, not easily understood abroad ; but that no 
 Northern man in the United States was a friend 
 of slavery. 
 
 I was tempted to say something about Prus- 
 sian freedom ; to ask how it happened that I 
 could not enter Prussia without a passport ? that 
 on arriving at Berlin I had to send my passport 
 to the police ? and how long would the Baron von 
 Humboldt himself be free, if he should profess re- 
 publican principles, or apply to the conduct of the 
 King, in destroying the constitution, the epithets 
 it deserves ? What if he should suddenly say to 
 the King : " Sir, your subjects have been deprived 
 of their rights. They have a right to participate 
 in the affairs of government ; and by a stroke of 
 perfidy you have robbed them of it. In your dis- 
 tress you promised constitutional privileges to your 
 people ; they confided in you : you have betrayed 
 their confidence. Restore to them what you have 
 wrongfully taken. Make Prussians free. Give 
 them the habeas corpus. Take away your armies, 
 who devour the substance of the nation, giving 
 nothing in return, except support to despotism " ?
 
 64 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 All these thoughts passed through my mind, 
 while Humboldt was rather rudely I thought, 
 certainly violently disparaging our country as 
 compared with Prussia. But I reflected that he 
 was not only a very eminent, but a very old man ; 
 and it was not for me to bandy words with him 
 on any subject. So I merely said that I brought 
 the book as a mark of respect to him, thinking it 
 would be gratifying to him to know that his 
 " Cosmos " was one of the last works studied by 
 a person so eminent as Mr. Webster; that, of 
 course, there would be different views upon prac- 
 tical questions of humanity, and every man must 
 form his own. 
 
 The old gentleman then said : " The book will 
 have the greatest interest for me. I regard Mr. 
 Webster as a most eminent intellect ; and I am 
 much glorified that he has occupied himself with 
 my book. But I am deeply concerned about 
 slavery ; and I am sorry Mr. Webster had any- 
 thing to do with it. I would not have put my 
 name to it. Whatever political necessity may re- 
 quire, the individual need not, unless he chooses, 
 connect himself with it." I reminded him that 
 Mr. Webster was not in the Senate when the law 
 was passed ; that " some of its features were not 
 such as Mr. Webster approved, though there 
 was no doubt that Mr. Webster was in favor of 
 sustaining the Constitution, on this as well as on 
 all other points." He said : "I am glad to hear
 
 DRESDEN. 65 
 
 that ; I supposed he was in the legislature. I am 
 still sorry he said anything in its favor. Perhaps, 
 however, I shall take a different view." The 
 conversation then passed on to other subjects. 
 
 The afternoon was rainy, so that we could see 
 only a part of the objects of interest in Potsdam. 
 The superb apartments of the Chateau de Ville 
 abounding with touching memorials of Queen Lou- 
 isa, whose beauty and virtues form the brightest 
 page in the history of Prussia we had the pleas- 
 ure of thoroughly exploring. We went into the 
 old church, and descended into the plain vault, 
 where Frederic the Great and his father lie, 
 side by side. I placed my hand on his coffin, and 
 a hollow, empty sound came forth. This narrow 
 zinc box, and the wax figure in the Berlin garret, 
 alike say, " Vanity of vanities" 
 
 We came from Berlin to Dresden, thinking we 
 might possibly stay here a week or two. 
 
 Dresden has one of the two best picture-gal- 
 leries in the world. We have spent a good deal 
 of time there ; and when I tell you, that in one 
 ^oom, and within the range of sight as you sit on 
 one side of it, you have Carlo Dolce's St. Cecilia, 
 Raphael's Madonna di San Sisto, and Correggio's 
 most famous Holy Family, I need add nothing 
 tnore. I sat there one day until it seemed as if 
 the figures were alive, and I had passed away 
 from earth. I certainly never knew before the 
 power of painting ; and I set down the sight of
 
 66 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 these most glorious works as an important epoch 
 in my intellectual life. The birthplace of Shake- 
 speare, the living poetry of Jasmin, the Cathe- 
 drals of Strasburg and Cologne, the glorious 
 Rhine in its summer robes, the Madonna di 
 San Sisto, form a series of luminous points that 
 seem to suffuse the long journey through which 
 I have passed with a supernatural light. 
 
 Another most extraordinary thing at Dresden 
 is the collection of ancient suits of armor. In 
 long lines stand portrait-figures of horses and 
 knights, wearing the coats of steel they wore in 
 life ; lifting their battle-axes, or holding their 
 enormous lances in rest. You think yourself in 
 the presence of the Middle Ages ; you expect to 
 see the horses spring forward, and to hear the 
 clang of battle ; and you forget that you are in 
 the nineteenth century, and that these figures are 
 there only to tell us what has been. It is a won- 
 derful scene, which no language can describe, 
 so vividly does it bring the past and its mighty 
 actors before you. You see the dents in the 
 breastplates, the breaks in the coats of mail, v 
 the cuts in the helmets ; you handle the faded 
 finery of the embroidered robes worn on the bat- 
 tle-field ; you mark the bloody stains ; you gaze 
 upon the Black Knights, actually crossing their 
 ponderous lances, which they wielded in a duel 
 for life or death.
 
 COSTUME. 67 
 
 IX. 
 
 ZURICH, August 8, 1853. 
 
 AS it is now somewhat more than a fortnight 
 since I wrote last, I will resume my story 
 where I left off. My last letter was finished at 
 Leipsic, and despatched through the post-office 
 there. In the hurry of travelling, and the con- 
 stant occupation of the time we spend at the sev- 
 eral places, I am obliged to write hastily, and to 
 send off my letters without reading them over ; so 
 that if you read any portions of them to other peo- 
 ple, pray amend the violations of grammar, and all 
 the faults with which they abound. 
 
 Here in Switzerland we are likely to have a 
 breathing-time ; so I will give you a little account 
 of two or three practical matters, which, in the din 
 of cities and the pressure of arts, literature, and 
 science, had almost escaped my attention. I dare 
 say you imagine me flourishing in Parisian gar- 
 ments from head to foot. On the contrary, I 
 found on my arrival in England I could supply a 
 considerable quantity of clothing to some of the 
 crew, and when I went to Paris I left one carpet- 
 bag in London. My old gray cap was thought 
 not to be the thing in London ; so, in deference
 
 68 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 to the opinions of others, I bought a new hat ; but 
 the London weather soon reduced it to a condition 
 more easily imagined than described, perhaps it 
 would not be going too far to say that it looked 
 
 nearly as bad as 's best. Further attempts 
 
 were made (which I firmly resisted) to induce me 
 to get another. I traversed England and Scot- 
 land ; crossed the Channel ; figured a month in 
 France ; entered Germany ; visited its principal 
 cities, and arrived at Munich with my London 
 hat. It was storm-beaten ; it was covered with 
 the dust and cobwebs of ancient steeples and tow- 
 ers ; it was knocked in before, behind, and on 
 both sides ; it had been battered against the cross- 
 pieces of doors to crypts, and dungeons, and cham- 
 bers of torture underground, where the light of 
 day never comes ; it had been sat on, like a mur- 
 dered body by a coroner's inquest : but I still wore 
 it ; I had an affection for it ; "I loved it for the 
 dangers it. had passed," and I defied the jeers of 
 the world and the entreaties of friends. At last 
 it ran against some old weapon of the Middle 
 Ages, which had been used in the Crusades to cut 
 off the heads of the unbelievers, and " what 
 a rent the envious Casca made ! " Still, it ap- 
 peared to me that this ghastly wound might be 
 useful for ventilation ; but there are points beyond 
 which such is the imperfect constitution of our 
 moral nature it is impossible for the individual 
 to resist
 
 FRENCH COOKERY. 69 
 
 " the world's dread laugh, 
 Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn." 
 
 I bought a new hat in Munich, city of the arts. 
 The woman of whom I bought it eyed the old one 
 with a quizzical look, and asked if she should send 
 it to my hotel. " Nein," said I, " geben sie ihn 
 einem Armen," "No, give it to some poor man," 
 and so I left it, to run a second honorable career 
 in the service of humanity. My new one still has 
 a strange, uncomfortable feeling. It is heavy, as 
 if made to resist a battle-axe, and I have no doubt 
 it would ; for though I have worn it a fortnight, 
 not a dent or break is yet to be seen on its shin- 
 ing surface. 
 
 I believe I have not told you anything about 
 cookery yet. It has been a matter of consider- 
 able indifference, so many other things have occu- 
 pied me. But a word or two on that interesting 
 matter will help complete the picture of " the Pro- 
 fessor in Europe." In England, I found it much 
 the same as at home. In Paris we lived, by pref- 
 erence, in a very simple manner, ordering but few 
 dishes, and plainly cooked. At the great restau- 
 rants, where I dined two or three times, I liked 
 some of the dishes, particularly two or three 
 of the soups, and the turbot a la creme very 
 much ; all the rest did not please me. When we 
 came into Germany we stopped always at the best 
 hotels. The tabk-d'hote I tried to like. I 'did my 
 best to look upon it in what the Germans call a
 
 70 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 "world-historical" i. e. a cosmopolitan point 
 of view ; but all in vain. 
 
 They give you a soup, of which grease and 
 onions are the only distinguishable elements. They 
 pass round about ten courses of meat, so mixed, 
 blended, and travestied with seasonings and vege- 
 tables that it would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer 
 to tell what any of them is made of; not one 
 having the remotest resemblance to the natural 
 taste of any one of the animals seen in Peter's 
 vision, and all of them most repulsive to me. 
 
 In the midst of the dinner they hand you an 
 indescribable pudding, sweetmeats, fruits, and 
 the like. Your potatoes are dressed with car- 
 away-seeds, and your bread is spiced with the 
 same. You have green peas and beans stewed in 
 sugar, and such a stew ! It is a literal fact, that I 
 'have not eaten a dinner since we have been in 
 Germany. As the dishes have passed round, I 
 have taken what looked to me most like human 
 food ; but I could not eat, and I have, in every 
 
 case, fulfilled the rule of Dr. W , to leave the 
 
 table as hungry as I sat down. One does well 
 enough at breakfast, one can get good coffee, 
 and bread and butter ; and once I succeeded in 
 finding a bit of smoked salmon. The only things 
 I have eaten with relish are the sandwiches I have 
 bought at railroad-stations. Alas ! with what a 
 
 O 
 
 tender remorse have I recalled the indifference 
 with which I have eaten a plain, but excellent
 
 GERMAN MODES OF LIVING. 71 
 
 dinner every day at home. Boiled chickens with 
 a sh'ce of pork, and potatoes undisguised by oceans 
 of grease, whither are ye fled ? Roast mutton, 
 is it a dream ? Beef-steak, is it only a phantom ? 
 
 How do you think they get you up a steak here, 
 as we experienced to-day on the summit of Uetli- 
 berg ? Why, they boiled the beef ; then singed 
 it a little ; then poured hot water over it, into 
 which they put a piece of butter ; then covered it 
 with chopped onion-leaves ! I asked the waiter 
 what they called it in German. He said : " Bif- 
 stek. It is an English dish, and the Germans 
 have no name for it." I thought of the poet's 
 awful " deed without a name." 
 
 Besides these particulars, there is a universal 
 savor of onion. Even boiled eggs have it. I 
 shall never look at an onion again as long as I 
 live. I assure you, the idea of the superiority 
 of Continental cookery over American is as much 
 a superstition as that of the greater size of Eng- 
 lishmen. Nor is there one of the arrangements 
 of life more agreeable or convenient than our own, 
 and most of them are, to my taste, immeasurably 
 inferior. You have read and heard often about 
 the odd custom the Germans have of sleeping 
 between two beds. It looks droll : but by taking 
 the upper layer, rolling it up and putting the pil- 
 low on the top of it, one can sleep pretty comfort- 
 ably. 
 
 After all, perhaps the German way of living is
 
 72 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 as rational as any other, and habit alone makes the 
 difference. I see I have occupied considerable 
 space with these details. Do not imagine that 
 I attach the slightest importance to them. I can 
 live anywhere and anyhow, and I have not expe- 
 rienced the least inconvenience from this utter 
 contradiction to all my tastes and habits. I have 
 only written these things out as a part of my 
 experience, and to show at the same time how 
 well satisfied I am with our American simplicity 
 of life in comparison with the more elaborate style 
 of the continent of Europe. 
 
 I have now completed my travels in Germany. 
 In all essential respects, my hopes have been more 
 than equalled. I like the Germans heartily. I 
 like their language and literature ; their zeal for 
 learning and science ; their good-humor and sim- 
 plicity, which I have found absolutely universal. 
 Their libraries and collections of art are admi- 
 rable, and admirably employed. 
 
 But there is a deep dissatisfaction, in the minds 
 of the most eminent men, with the state of things 
 in Europe. They have no hope ; and where hope 
 has gone out of the heart of the great men of a 
 nation, it is sad for that nation. So far as I have 
 conversed with them, they universally look to our 
 country for the future progress of literature and 
 science. The depth and extent of this feeling, 
 both of despair for Europe and of hope for Amer- 
 ica, greatly surprised me.
 
 ADVANTAGES OF THE NEW WORLD. 73 
 
 Humboldt is the only man who did not express 
 it ; but he, noble-hearted as he is, is an aristocrat 
 by birth, by association, by taste ; he has always 
 been the friend, companion, confidant of kings, 
 and does not sympathize with the aspirations of 
 the republic of letters here. With this single 
 exception, I did not converse with one man of 
 letters or science in Germany who did not envy 
 the position enjoyed by men of letters and science 
 in America ; who did not freely declare the con- 
 viction that America is fast getting the start 
 of Europe, and will soon outrun her in the 
 race. And I must say, that, though the treasures 
 of art and the accumulations of centuries will 
 always make Europe a school and a storehouse 
 for American scholars, and a tour in Europe will 
 always be a source of delight to the man of taste, 
 of science, or of art, what I have seen and hearcl 
 here has convinced me that America is the hope 
 of the world for h'terature and science, as well as 
 for liberty. I thank God for the inexpressible 
 pleasure and benefit I am drawing from my stud- 
 ies and travels, even for a single year, in the Old 
 World ; but still more do I thank God that he has 
 cast my lot, my fortunes, my hopes, in the New. 
 I shall return with a much clearer insight into 
 the condition of the world ; a higher sense of the 
 greatness of our own position as Americans; and 
 a stronger hope that we shall not fail to meet the 
 expectations of mankind, and sustain the responsi- 
 4
 
 74 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 bilities the Almighty has laid upon us. I began 
 this letter in a lighter mood ; but the tone has 
 changed, in spite of me. I shall write imme- 
 ately from Lucerne ; for I have a thousand things 
 to say about dear old Germany. God bless her, 
 in spite of her table-d'hdte.
 
 COLLECTIONS OF ART IN ENGLAND. 75 
 
 X. 
 
 LUCERNE, August 14, 1853. 
 
 MY last letter was written from Zurich. In 
 most respects our journey has been very 
 fortunate. In the first place, the seasons have 
 suited us exactly. We were in England at the 
 right time to see the beauty of an English spring, 
 as well as during the busy season of London. 
 June was just the month for Paris, and France ; 
 July and August, for Germany and Switzerland. 
 Then, with the exception of ten days in England, 
 the weather has been most favorable ; and even 
 those ten days were desirable, to show us what an 
 English climate could do, if it tried. It has been 
 about as warm in Germany as we have it in Cam- 
 bridge ; and this has made it sometimes a little 
 uncomfortable to go about, in the cities, visiting 
 the collections. But, on the whole, we have had 
 but little inconvenience, and have seen the best 
 of everything, without troubling ourselves to see 
 everything. 
 
 In England, we had the summit of modern 
 power, with the Middle Ages breaking through 
 the surface, and here and there memorials of 
 Roman civilization. In the collections, we had
 
 76 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 single specimens of the great painters of the Ital- 
 ian schools, antiques from Greece and Rome, and 
 numerous memorials of the Middle Ages. The 
 marbles in the British Museum, however, surpass 
 all other collections in Europe. In France, we 
 had immense galleries, with still more of the Ital- 
 ian painting, and some of the best of the Spanish 
 school. In Germany, we seemed to plunge deep 
 into the Middle Ages ; but here again, together 
 with the works of the early Dutch and German 
 masters, came some of the very best of Raphael 
 and Correggio. In sculpture, there are collec- 
 tions inferior only to that of the British Museum, 
 and some of the greatest works of the modern 
 artists. 
 
 So we have passed, as it were, up the stream 
 of time, each movement preparing us for the fol- 
 lowing with wonderful regularity. Now we have 
 arrived at the great barrier of the Alps, where we 
 rest awhile to breathe the freshness of nature, and 
 to study the eternal wonders of God's creation. 
 Passing over the Alps, we cross, as it were, the 
 mighty boundaries between the modern and the 
 ancient world, the world of Rome. Nothing 
 can be more admirably timed than this pause 
 among the Alps. Art is wonderful, but Nature is 
 more wonderful. The Alps are the natural boun- 
 daries of history as well as of space. On the 
 other side of them is a different world, and a differ- 
 ent world of art. We have had foreshadowings
 
 OLD GERMAN DWELLINGS. 77 
 
 of the latter in the pictures of Raphael and Correg- 
 gio, the marbles, the Etruscan vases. 
 
 I have formed a distinct conception of the Ger- 
 man Middle Ages, from the walled towns, the old 
 towers, churches, banners, battle-fields, from ar- 
 mories where I have seen thousands of suits of " com- 
 plete steel " preserved as all but living records of 
 the past. The old houses still stand, with armorial 
 bearings, and curious half-effaced pictures on the^ 
 outer walls. On the arches and sides of cloisters 
 are sculptures and paintings of the most singular 
 character, gradually vanishing from sight or crum- 
 bling into dust. You will see here a group of 
 heads, there perhaps a single eye, which seems 
 to look sadly at you as you pass along, yonder 
 an arm raised in prayer, hovering above, scarce- 
 ly discernible, a Virgin and Child, like the faint 
 figures in a dream. Such eloquent but silent 
 witnesses of the great Past you meet with every- 
 where ; and for me they have a thousand times 
 the interest that the Present, which I sometimes 
 utterly forget, possesses. 
 
 On many of the old houses you still read the 
 pious sentences written there by the devout of the 
 Middle Ages. In Schiller's William Tell, Stauffa- 
 cher's house is described as 
 
 " Painted with many-colored shields of arms 
 And words of wisdom, which the wanderer 
 Lingers to read, and their deep sense admires." 
 
 I never understood precisely what was meant by
 
 78 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 this, until I actually saw the very thing. In Ba- 
 varia, Wurtemberg, and Switzerland I suppose I 
 have seen hundreds of these quaint and curious 
 embellishments. I copied a single couplet from 
 the painted front of an old house. The picture 
 was on some sacred subject, but too faint to be 
 distinctly made out, except the head of God the 
 Father ; and the lines were in old German, pious 
 but stiff. Literally translated, they mean, 
 
 " Bethink thee, God all things looks on 
 That in and out of doors be done." 
 
 In the Catholic countries, the figure of the cross 
 is met with at almost every step. In the walls of 
 houses and towers, you see carved crucifixes, and 
 sometimes even painted ones, still carefully pre- 
 served. In little devices, small chapels or shrines 
 among the mountains tell the same story. On 
 every rocky projection along the shores of the 
 lakes you see similar memorials of devotion. All 
 this is very striking and curious to a stranger, 
 especially to an American. 
 
 We often read about women, compelled to work 
 in the field, like men ; and I have heard a good 
 deal of sentimental horror expressed at such a 
 barbarism. Well, I have seen it constantly for 
 a couple of months, and I confess have quite 
 changed my opinion. Such peals of laughter as I 
 have heard from groups of merry maidens resting 
 from their toils at mid-day, under the shadow of
 
 FEMALE MOWER. 79 
 
 the trees ! such picturesque figures as I have seen 
 vigorously at work, with their national costumes, 
 their cheeks brown and healthy, and their eyes 
 sparkling with animation ! No ! no ! it is a great 
 deal better than the wretched, consumptive look 
 of the London seamstiwss, or the yellow com- 
 plexion of the dirty factory-girl at Manchester. 
 
 At Dresden I saw the Sistine Madonna with 
 inexpressible delight ; but I saw another sight, not 
 quite so poetical and ideal, yet still to be looked 
 upon with interest and pleasure. One day I was 
 walking through the public square to the picture- 
 gallery. I happened to notice a woman mowing. 
 I stopped; sat down and looked at her for half 
 an hour. She was apparently two or three and 
 twenty. Her head was finely formed, and set 
 firmly on her shoulders. Her hair was neatly 
 braided round it ; her features were regular ; com- 
 plexion brown as a berry ; eyes bright blue ; form 
 vigorous, well rounded, like that of Dorothea in 
 Goethe's poem. From her ears hung golden ear- 
 rings. She wore a bright-colored petticoat, reach- 
 ing a little below the knees ; her legs were bare, 
 and her feet encased in embroidered shoes. She 
 was the picture of health, and robust beauty. 
 She swung the scythe with an inimitable ease and 
 grace ; and as she did so, there was a placid expres- 
 sion on her pleasant countenance, which spoke of a 
 good conscience, a contented spirit, and a willing- 
 ness to do the work which her destiny pointed out.
 
 80 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 I examined the swaths ; the grass was cut as 
 smooth as velvet ; you could not tell where one 
 swath ended and the next began. An English 
 lawn looked no smoother. It was a work of art, 
 high art ; and an American farmer might have 
 taken a useful lesson. I nvish I could have taken 
 her portrait as she stood before me. 
 
 It is singular how certain names grow upon you 
 in Germany and others diminish : at least they 
 have done so with me. Take Luther and Al- 
 brecht Diirer. All the world knows the former, 
 and perhaps something of the latter. But I could 
 not bring up my conception of Luther in Ger- 
 many to the idea I had of him before. I saw his 
 manuscripts, collections of his works, portraits ; 
 but his big drinking-cups were after all the most 
 prominent memorials he left behind him. He was 
 a jolly old soul, hearty and honest, I dare say, and 
 banged away at the Pope and the Devil with good 
 will and good effect. But there was nothing high 
 and grand about him. I went to see the place 
 where the Devil is said to have helped him over 
 the walls of Augsburg ; but even there, not a 
 gleam of poetry associated itself with his name. 
 The huge drinking-cup seemed to swallow up 
 everything, and the couplet said to be his ap- 
 peared to tell the whole story; 
 
 " Who loves not wine, woman, and song, 
 Remains a fool all his life long." 
 
 In short, -his burly face and figure, and the goblets
 
 CHOICE OF ROUTE IN GERMANY. 81 
 
 that testify to his powers, made it absolutely im- 
 possible for me to connect any heroic idea with 
 the man. 
 
 But how different with Albrecht Diirer ! His 
 pictures in the collections at once excited my in- 
 terest : his portrait completed the work. The 
 marvellous beauty of his face ; the sweet, sad 
 expression it always wears ; the lofty purity and 
 ideal grace, that seem to transfigure the mortal 
 into an immortal nature, distinguish him from 
 all other men of those ages. His spirit gained a 
 stronger and stronger hold upon me, every day I 
 was in Germany. I studied every work of his 
 that I could find, and every lineament of his noble 
 countenance is stamped ineffaceably on my mem- 
 ory. At Nuremberg, I traced him from his cradle 
 to his grave. I visited his house ; the house of his 
 friend Pirkheimer ; and I went twice to the church- 
 yard of St. John, outside the city, to pay my 
 homage at his tomb. I do not know whether his 
 genius and character affect others as they have 
 me ; but I would gladly give the time and money 
 for a voyage to Europe, if I knew that I should 
 see nothing else than the works, the portrait, the 
 house, and the grave of Albrecht Diirer. 
 
 But I am running before my story. These 
 generalities made me forget that I have not yet 
 told you the course we followed from Leipsic. 
 
 We thought ourselves obliged to make a selec- 
 tion, both for want of time to see every important 
 
 4* F
 
 82 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 place, and because we found travelling in Ger- 
 many much more expensive than we had antici- 
 pated. So we abandoned Vienna, and did not 
 visit Weimar. We stopped in Leipsic only a few 
 hours, just long enough to see the outside of the 
 place and the great publishing establishments, 
 and proceeded to a little town called Altenberg. 
 It is a quiet place, and we had great pleasure in 
 visiting an old castle by the side of a little lake, 
 in which it was reflected. In this old castle Char- 
 lemagne once lived. 
 
 From Altenberg we went to another nice old 
 town called Hof. In both of these places we saw 
 more of the old-fashioned German life and man- 
 ners than anywhere else. 
 
 Hof is most picturesquely placed on one side 
 of a little river. The opposite side rises in ter- 
 races, covered with trees and shady walks, with 
 seats at short distances, where the youths and 
 maidens resort, towards evening, to walk and talk 
 together. We, too, joined the villagers. We 
 crossed the bridge over the beautiful stream, as- 
 cended the slope, and, after walking in all direc- 
 tions, sat down on the brow of the hill, charmed 
 with the quiet of the hour and the placid beauty 
 of the scene. The golden light of evening poured 
 into the valley below, and a single star came out 
 from heaven, and looked softly down. 
 
 In a few minutes the silence was broken by the 
 plashing of oars, and then a popular German song,
 
 HANS SACHS. 83 
 
 sung by young men and women in the boat, rose 
 and filled the air. It was answered by another 
 boat's company at a distance. We remained 
 about an hour, and then slowly returned. As 
 we went along, we passed many a couple either 
 sitting by themselves under the trees or strolling 
 in the winding paths ; and many a romance was 
 evidently weaving itself into the web of human 
 destiny. It was as nice a bit of idyllic life as I 
 have anywhere seen, and a perfect illustration 
 of Goethe's Hermann and Dorothea. 
 
 Having seen all that was to be seen in Hof, 
 I started at five o'clock for Nuremberg, leaving 
 the rest of the party to follow in the afternoon. 
 I knew it was the most interesting city of the 
 Middle Ages in Germany, and I wanted as much 
 time as possible to see it. 
 
 I have already told you about Albrecht Diirer. 
 Another old personage, in whom I have long been 
 interested, is Hans Sachs, the master-shoemaker 
 and master-singer. He, too, was a native of 
 Nuremberg, and 1 tracked him out : hunted up his 
 portrait ; visited his house ; and at the old castle 
 saw a copy of the original folio edition of his 
 works, and a pair of boots of his making. Per- 
 haps you have heard the couplet, 
 
 " Hans Sachs war ein Schue- 
 Macher, und Dichtcr dazu." 
 
 " Hans Sachs was a Shoe- 
 Maker, and Poet thereto."
 
 84 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 I bought a copy of his works, published in a 
 reduced shape, and by selections, at Nuremberg, 
 and read as many as I could of them on the spot. 
 I sought out his grave, in the same churchyard 
 where Albrecht Diirer lies buried. An old sexton 
 conducted me through the " silent land " ; and 
 while we were meditating among the tombs, there 
 came up suddenly a violent w;nd, almost a hurri- 
 cane. We took refuge in a little chapel, about 
 five hundred years old, occupied with graves and 
 tombs and portraits of an old Nuremberg family 
 named Holzeschue, or Wooden-shoes ; the founder 
 of it having made his fortune by the manufacture 
 of wooden-shoes, in the thirteenth century. His 
 descendants still live in Nuremberg. 
 
 It was strange to stand in such a place, and 
 listen to the roaring of the wind and the rattling 
 glass of the windows, surrounded by the dead of 
 so many generations. There were a thousand 
 other interesting associations with Nuremberg ; 
 and I found my time fully occupied. But I have 
 no room to go into the details now, nor would 
 they be very interesting, if written out. 
 
 From Nuremberg we journeyed on to Munich, 
 where we purposed to stay for some time. We 
 found excellent quarters there, and I had letters 
 that enabled me to see, under the best auspices, 
 everything I desired. We remained a week, and 
 examined at our leisure the various collections of 
 ancient and modern art with which the city is 
 enriched.
 
 PROFESSOR THIERSCH. 85 
 
 You know old King Ludwig had a passion for 
 art, and aspired to make his capital the Athens 
 of the modern world. To a wonderful extent he 
 has succeeded. He called about him all the best 
 artists of Germany, and expended all his resources 
 on sculpture, painting, and architecture. Munich 
 is the city of art. The collections are large, im- 
 portant, most admirably arranged, and liberally 
 opened to strangers. The buildings for them are 
 built expressly for the purpose, and by the ablest 
 architects; and everything is in harmony. The 
 ^Egina marbles next in value to the Elgin col- 
 lection in the British Museum are beautifully 
 arranged in one of the halls of the Grlyptoihek, or 
 sculpture-gallery. These were my special object 
 of study ; and while I was at Munich I learned 
 them by heart. 
 
 We went to the theatre only once, and then 
 to see Schiller's Don Carlos, capitally played, 
 though its inordinate length was cut down about 
 half. 
 
 I formed some very interesting and valuable 
 acquaintance there ; particularly Professor Mar- 
 tius, the great botanist ; Thiersch, the Professor 
 of Greek ; Skhinas (pronounced Skeenas), the 
 Greek Ambassador, and his wife ; and the Baron 
 von Maurer, a Bavarian nobleman of great emi- 
 nence, both in politics and literature. 
 
 Professor Thiersch has long stood nearly at the 
 head of the classical scholars in Germany. He
 
 86 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 was especially interesting to me, because I first 
 gained a radical knowledge of the Greek verb, as 
 long ago as 1822, by studying a work of his which 
 my teacher, Mr. Simeon Putnam, accidentally 
 possessed. He was not at home when I called ; 
 but in the course of the afternoon he came to our 
 lodgings, and called on me. He is a gray-headed 
 old gentleman, and always walks with a cane, 
 and accompanied by a dog. He speaks English a 
 very little. He invited me to walk with him to a 
 " Bier-Keller," where he would introduce me to 
 the principal celebrities of Munich. I forget the 
 name of the Keller, but Agassiz will doubtless re- 
 member it, as he must have been there many a 
 time. It lies at some distance outside the city, 
 on a hill which is hollowed out for the beer-bar- 
 rels. The surface is occupied by a house and a 
 garden with trees. Under the trees are arranged 
 plain wooden tables and benches to ^natch. A 
 band of musicians is in attendance, and as the 
 evening comes on, the whole is lighted with 
 candles. 
 
 The extensive gardens are filled rapidly by all 
 sorts of people, students, citizens with their 
 wives and daughters, professors, lawyers, and so 
 on. The Keller furnishes absolutely nothing but 
 Bavarian beer and black bread, for which each 
 person pays six groschen, or about four or five 
 cents. If he wants anything else, he must bring 
 it with him.
 
 LEARNED SOCIETY AT MUNICH. 87 
 
 Arriving at the place, Professor Thiersch con- 
 ducted me through the tables, the occupants of 
 which saluted him with the greatest respect as we 
 passed along, until he found the one he was in 
 search of. There were sitting Steub, the au- 
 thor of an admirable work on Greece ; Fallme- 
 rayer, the author of a great work on the Sclavo- 
 nian immigrations into Greece ; Miiller, the first 
 Orientalist in Germany ; and four or five other 
 gentlemen, whose names are classical in the liter- 
 ature of the age, sitting on a rough bench, at a 
 table of black and weather-worn plank, each with 
 a pot of beer, and a slice of bread as black as the 
 table. 
 
 An eminent jurist, whose opinions are law over 
 half the civilized world, had brought in his pocket 
 a slice of ham, wrapped up in a piece of news- 
 paper, which lay before him, and added some- 
 thing substantial to his entertainment. He cut it 
 up with a jackknife and laid the bits on the black 
 bread. Professor Thiersch called the damsel in 
 attendance, ordered two pots of beer and two 
 slices of black bread, and we joined the learned 
 revels of the company. 
 
 I never met a more intelligent, genial, and 
 pleasant circle ; and for the sake of their de- 
 lightful conversation I readily drank the beer and 
 ate the bread, which without such a seasoning I 
 should have found it impossible to worry down. 
 It was a most curious and characteristic scene,
 
 88 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 and I have described it partly for Agassiz, with 
 whom I wish you would talk about it. I think 
 he will recognize the fidelity of the picture. 
 
 At the end of the evening we returned, and 
 Professor Thiersch invited me to his house. His 
 family were seated at a tea-table in the garden, 
 his wife, two daughters, and a sister ; and as I had 
 not supped very heartily at the " Bier- Keller," I 
 had no objection to a nice cup of tea and a sand- 
 wich. The young ladies were agreeable, and I 
 had a very pleasant time. 
 
 Professor Thiersch continued kind and atten- 
 tive during all my stay in Munich. We all 
 passed an evening at his house with a small party. 
 He has a son, a young man of talent, already 
 distinguished among the artists of Germany, 
 who has been two years in Athens, and is now 
 in Munich, intending to return to Athens in Sep- 
 tember. 
 
 One day in the Professor's study, I suddenly 
 came upon a large drawing in crayon. I asked if 
 it was not from a Klephtic poem, " Charon and 
 the Ghosts." "Yes, it is." "Well," said I, 
 " I translated that poem fifteen years ago." " So 
 did I," said the Professor ; and then recited his 
 German version. You remember mine, I dare 
 say. It begins, 
 
 " Why are the mountains shadowed o'er, why stand they dark- 
 ened grimly ? 
 Is it a tempest warring there, or rain-storm beating on them ?
 
 THE GREEK AMBASSADOR. 89 
 
 " It is no tempest warring there, no rain-storm beating on them, 
 But Charon sweeping over them, and with him the departed.' " 
 
 The composition of the piece shows an admira- 
 ble talent ; the very spirit of the poem is so well 
 given, by the grouping of the figures and the ex- 
 pression. You may judge of its excellence, by 
 my instantly recognizing it ; and you may imag- 
 ine what pleasure this little incident gave me as 
 well as my host. 
 
 The Professor told me that when the galleries 
 received their present Greek names, " Pinako- 
 thek," deposit of pictures ; " Glyptothek," depos- 
 it or collection of statues^ the invention of these 
 terms was attributed to him, and some dissatisfac- 
 tion was felt in the city ; in short, quite an excite- 
 ment was got up against him. One day, return- 
 ing from a walk, he found an inscription placed 
 over his door, containing, in large letters, the 
 word " Nepiothek," a gallery of fools. He took 
 it down and sent it to the old King, who nearly 
 went into convulsions with laughter. 
 
 I called on M. Skhinas a few days after arriv- 
 ing in Munich with a letter of introduction from 
 Ampe~re. I found him in very handsome apart- 
 ments, in the handsomest street (Agassiz will re- 
 member it, Ludwig-strasse) in Munich. He 
 was at home, and I was conducted through six 
 or seven rooms, richly furnished and hung with 
 superb pictures and engravings, to the Ambassa- 
 dor's study. He is a gentleman of about fifty or
 
 90 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 fifty-five, stout and strong, with a bold, vig- 
 orous cast of countenance, somewhat resembling 
 Dr. Bache. His manners are simple, cordial, and 
 as free as if he had never seen a court or been 
 called " His Excellency." He speaks no Eng- 
 lish, but German and French with great fluency. 
 So I was thrown upon my foreign forces ; but 
 what with French, and here and there a bit of 
 German, eked out with Greek when these failed 
 me, I got on pretty well. 
 
 The conversation turned at first on casual sub- 
 jects, but M. Skhinas is an ardent politician, and 
 so his talk imperceptibly glided into the " Ques- 
 tion de 1'Orient." He began by saying that the 
 future would be occupied by two colossal figures, 
 Russia and America. Western Europe, in his 
 opinion, was already on the decline. England 
 had been, and still was, a great power, but she 
 had reached her culminating point. Germany 
 was also going down. The power of Russia, al- 
 ready vast, was fearfully increasing. It became 
 us Americans to ponder well how we should 
 wisely employ our power. The English had not 
 been wise in their external policy. Where they 
 ought to have made friends, they had made bitter 
 enemies. The course of Lord Palmerston towards 
 Greece in the affair of the Jew ( will ex- 
 plain this) was unsinnig, unglaublich, senseless, 
 incredible. The Jew was not a British subject, 
 but a subject of Greece, and amenable to her
 
 THE QUESTION OF THE EAST. 91 
 
 laws. He had long enjoyed the privileges of 
 Greek citizenship, and his claim beside was 
 wholly unfounded. The conduct of Lord Palm- 
 erston in blockading the Peiraeus to enforce this 
 claim, had made the British name odious to the 
 Christians of the East. It was a strong power 
 bullying a comparatively weak one. The Eng- 
 lish had, by this act of unjust interference with 
 the laws of another nation, set the example which 
 Russia alone followed. The demands of Russia 
 upon Turkey were a plagiarism upon the English 
 demands on Greece ; and now America had made 
 the great mistake of imitating England and Rus- 
 sia, in the case of Mr. King. " Mr. Marsh's de- 
 mands," said he, " upon the Greek government 
 were unreasonable, and impossible to be granted. 
 Mr. King had offended against the laws of Greece ; 
 had been tried and condemned by a Greek tribu- 
 nal. Mr. Marsh required that the judgment of 
 the court should be annulled. But the King can- 
 not annul the judgment of a court. The King is 
 no Sultan ; had we desired to have a Sultan, we 
 should never have taken the trouble of making a 
 revolution ; we should have kept the old Sultan. 
 King Otho is a constitutional monarch, and the 
 Greeks are a free people. The administration of 
 justice is independent. The municipal organiza- 
 tions are admirable. We have parliamentary de- 
 bates, free speech, and a free press. How can a 
 constitutional monarch annul the judgment of a
 
 92 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 court ? Should he make the attempt, it woiild cause 
 a revolution." This was the substance of what he 
 said in a conversation of an hour and a half. 
 
 So much for the American part in the Oriental 
 question. As to the general subject, M. Skhinas 
 showed me a pamphlet he had written, not yet 
 published, and another written by an eminent 
 Athenian gentleman. I took them to my room 
 and read them. They developed views quite new 
 to me, and such as I have nowhere seen in the 
 discussions of Western Europe. They both as- 
 sume the certainty of the approaching dissolution 
 of the Turkish empire, and then proceed to dis- 
 cuss the question how that dissolution can be 
 brought about with the smallest disturbance to 
 the equilibrium of Europe. Both assert the im- 
 possibility of bringing Turkey within the range of 
 European civilization, or of compelling the Turks 
 to place the Christian population of European 
 Turkey on the same footing with the Mussul- 
 mans. The ineradicable fanaticism of the Turks, 
 and the incurable vices of their character, make 
 such an idea hopeless. . 
 
 What motive induces the great powers of Eu- 
 rope to adopt the policy of protecting and pro- 
 longing the existence of the Turkish empire ? 
 Surely not love of the Turks ; but jealousy of one 
 another. The apprehension that, if one should 
 be allowed to aggrandize itself with the spoils of 
 Turkey, it would disturb the balance of power,
 
 DINNER WITH THE GREEK AMBASSADOR. 93 
 
 and endanger the security of the rest. But the 
 force of events is greater than diplomatic arrange- 
 ments. Turkey cannot long be kept up ; and the 
 only safe solution of the Eastern question will be 
 to push the Sultan back into Asia, where he prop- 
 erly belongs, to add to the present kingdom of 
 Greece the European provinces of Turkey, and 
 to establish a new Greco-Byzantine empire, with 
 the capital at Constantinople. This would make 
 a power of about fifteen millions ; not large 
 enough to excite the alarm of Europe, but suffi- 
 ciently large to make itself respected. 
 
 All this is very curious, and explains the fact 
 that the Greeks have not sympathized with the 
 efforts of France and England, while on the other 
 hand they have not joined the Russians. They 
 want Constantinople themselves, and they mean 
 to have it, if they can get it ; and for my part, I 
 heartily wish they may succeed. The friendship 
 of Western Europe for Turkey is a contradiction 
 to the past, and has nothing to rest upon but pres- 
 ent policy. I believe the interests of European 
 civilization would be promoted by restoring Con- 
 stantinople to the Greeks. It was theirs, from 
 five or six centuries before Christ, down to 1452 ; 
 and they ought to have it now. Whether the 
 Great Powers will permit so good an arrangement 
 is another and much more doubtful matter. 
 
 In the course of the evening I received a pleas- 
 ant note from M. Skhinas, inviting me to dine 
 with a few friends, which I gladly accepted.
 
 94 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Well, I dressed up in my best (no great affair 
 that, you will say) and went at four o'clock, a 
 wonderfully late hour for Germany, where they 
 usually dine at half past twelve. The company 
 consisted of M. von Maurer, Professor Thiersch 
 and his son, two military gentlemen, and myself. 
 It was a very elegant dinner, and the conversa- 
 tion, though I lost part of it, very interesting. It 
 was almost wholly on Oriental affairs. In the 
 height of the tide, old Professor Thiersch filled his 
 glass with champagne and proposed " L'avenir de la 
 Gre*ce." " Avec Constantinople," added another, 
 by way of amendment. The company sprang to 
 their feet, I, of course, with the rest, clanged 
 glasses together, and drank a most zealous bumper 
 in honor of the Greco-Byzantine empire that 
 is to come. 
 
 This M. von Maurer, of whom I have spoken, 
 was the leading member of the Regency in Greece 
 while King Otho was a minor ; organized the 
 government entirely ; made the code for the ad- 
 ministration of justice ; and on his return to Ba- 
 varia, wrote a most able work on Greece in three 
 volumes. Since then he has been President of 
 the Council, and Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and 
 is now the leading orator in the Bavarian House 
 of Peers. He is a noble-looking person, and his 
 bearing is as frank and unaffected as it is high- 
 bred. I had known his name before, and some- 
 thing of his connection with Greece ; and I was
 
 GREEK LADY'S COURT-DRESS. 95 
 
 well pleased with such an opportunity of seeing 
 him more nearly. The next day M. Skhinas 
 proposed to take me to call on him. I readily 
 consented, and had an hour's conversation, speak- 
 ing in bad French, but with the pleasant assur- 
 ance that his was as bad as mine. 
 
 He made many inquiries about the American 
 Constitution, and you would'have laughed heartily 
 to hear me expounding the relations between the 
 Federal government and the States, in such French 
 as was never heard before, to a Bavarian minister. 
 He was curious to know all about President Pierce, 
 and I helped him to as much knowledge as T could 
 muster. In return, he gave me a good deal of in- 
 formation about the government of Bavaria, which 
 surprised ie. 
 
 But as you must be getting tired of all this, I 
 will return to Madame Skhinas. She invited me 
 to take tea with hej? the next evening, promising 
 to show me the court costume of a Greek lady. 
 I went accordingly, and found her sitting alone in 
 the drawing-room, arrayed in the magnificent dress 
 of gold and silk, with golden head-dress, which 
 makes the Oriental beauty so superb. I cannot 
 undertake to describe the dress ; but it may serve 
 to show the simple and unaffected manners of this 
 high-born woman, whose position in the diplomatic 
 and fashionable world is as distinguished as her 
 birth, to tell you that she explained the parts of 
 the costume, and on what occasions it was worn,
 
 96 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 merely for my information, and with all the good- 
 humor of a laughing girl. She looked, in my 
 eyes, much like a princess in the Arabian Nights, 
 and the whole tone of her conversation had a 
 tinge of Orientalism, singularly contrasting with 
 our Western European style of expression and 
 thought. 
 
 M. Skhinas came in by and by, and we had an- 
 other long talk about the Eastern Question and 
 the Greek Church. He has a profound convic- 
 tion that the Greeks have preserved the traditions 
 of the primitive Church ; and, while admitting the 
 rights of all other Christian communions, he thinks 
 the Greek Church justified in claiming, histori- 
 cally, to represent the Church as established by 
 the Apostles, from which it is directly descended. 
 He spoke again of Mr. King and the demands of 
 Mr. Marsh ; and then reverted to his favorite idea 
 of a Greco-Byzantine empire. All this was very 
 interesting, and much of it quite new to me. I 
 was glad to be possessed of these views before 
 going to Greece. 
 
 The next day was the last of our stay in Munich. 
 I went to see a few things I had not before visited, 
 among the rest to call on Madame Bavaria, a 
 lady about one hundred feet high. We ascended 
 into her head, and from between the locks of her 
 hair had the first fair view of the Alps. 
 
 I called on M. von Liebig, and have seldom 
 been more pleased than with him. He has a no-
 
 MEMORIALS OF JOHN HUSS. 97 
 
 ble countenance, frank, beautiful, and highly 
 animated. 
 
 Towards evening I went, with much regret, to 
 take leave of M. and Madame Skhinas. I found 
 them just walking out to enjoy the cool of the 
 evening. We walked for some time through the 
 most agreeable parts of the city. They urged me 
 to dine with them the following day, promising to 
 have an early dinner; but, though much tempted, 
 I felt obliged to decline, as the time appropriated 
 to Munich had expired. I really felt sad to quit 
 these excellent and most intelligent people ; but I 
 hope I may somewhere meet them again. 
 
 From Munich we went to Augsburg, where we 
 spent a day in visiting the objects of interest, the 
 home of Queen Hortense, and a very interesting 
 gallery of old pictures, containing, besides some in- 
 valuable paintings of the early Augsburg schools, 
 several works of Diirer, Murillo, and Titian, and 
 a very extraordinary portrait by Leonardo da 
 Vinci, recently discovered. 
 
 From Augsburg we went to Ulm, by Post- 
 wagen. We walked around the city walls and on 
 the principal promenades, but found little to de- 
 tain us. So the next day we took the train for 
 Friedrichshafen, and thence crossed the Lake of 
 Constance, to Constance, which, though not in 
 Switzerland, is just on its border. 
 
 Here I had a deeply interesting time in investi- 
 gating the history of John Huss, the martyr, who 
 
 5 G
 
 98 FAMILIAB LETTERS. 
 
 was burned in 1315. But I cannot now write 
 you about it in detail. I will merely say, that I 
 traced out every place where he was imprisoned 
 in the city ; examined the contemporary archives, 
 most obligingly opened to my inspection by the 
 Burgomaster ; followed him into the Cathedral, 
 where he received the sentence of condemnation ; 
 then went with the procession through the streets 
 of the city, to the neighboring field, where he was 
 tied to the stake and burned. I assure you, while 
 I was doing this, the sad scene drove the present 
 from my thoughts, and I saw the Emperor Sigis- 
 mund, the prelates, bishops, and cardinals of the 
 council, the executioners, the whole awful spec- 
 tacle, more vividly than I saw the people who 
 were moving about me.
 
 THE ZEUGHAUS AT ZURICH. 99 
 
 XI. 
 
 THON, August 23, 1853. 
 
 WHEN I wrote my last letter I was already 
 in Switzerland, and had seen something 
 of the Swiss ; but had more things to tell you 
 about Germany than I could crowd into a dozen 
 sheets. We had begun to see the outposts of 
 Switzerland, in Bavaria ; and the attraction of the 
 Alps hurried us on to Constance, the border town. 
 Here, as I wrote you, I found ample subjects of 
 the most interesting nature, in the history of the 
 place, especially the martyrdom of Huss and Je- 
 rome of Prague. 
 
 Having finished all that I desired to do there, 
 we left Constance for Zurich, passing through 
 Zug, and by the Lake of Zug, one of those ex- 
 quisite mountain lakes so numerous in Switzer- 
 land. The scenery all the way was beautiful. 
 At Zurich we saw all that was to be seen, not 
 a great deal ; but among other things, the Zeug- 
 haus, as they call it, or collection of ancient and 
 mediaeval arms, some of them curious and valua- 
 ble as memorials of the early wars of Switzerland 
 against the Burgundians. Many complete suits 
 of armor from the old battle-fields were there,
 
 100 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 spears, battle-axes, and a peculiarly heavy lance, 
 with a heavy head set all over with spikes, and 
 called a morning star, a singular name for such 
 a bloody and destructive instrument. 
 
 The place is not much visited ; nobody else was 
 there with us. I always try to vivify an idea, by 
 embodying it in some manner. I had often tried 
 to imagine how a knight of the Middle Ages 
 would feel buckled up in his " complete steel," on 
 a hot day. Being a middle-aged man myself, 
 and the day being very hot, I asked permission of 
 the keeper to try the experiment of equipping my- 
 self in one of those old Burgundian panoplies. 
 He willingly complied with the request, looking, 
 however, a little amused and surprised. I selected 
 one of the two largest in the collection, and, the 
 keeper acting as squire, I was soon encased from 
 head to foot, like the ghost of Hamlet's father, 
 " armed cap- a -pie." I could, however, just 
 squeeze myself into it ; it pinched in many places ; 
 and as this belonged to one of the stoutest knights 
 of the Burgundian host, it is very evident that 
 the notion of the greater size of the warriors of 
 the Middle Ages as compared with our own, is, 
 like that of the greater size of Englishmen as 
 compared with Americans, a mere superstition. 
 I had the most difficulty in getting the helmet on ; 
 but at last pushed my head into it, buckled it se- 
 curely, took off my spectacles, and drew the visor 
 down. Next, I seized a huge battle-axe, and then
 
 FIRST VIEWS OF THE ALPS. 101 
 
 marched across the hall, while G and the 
 
 girls were sitting down and laughing. I could 
 walk well enough, except that I seemed to be a 
 little stiff in the joints ; there was also a slight 
 difficulty in breathing through the visor, and a 
 little hardness of hearing through the iron side- 
 pieces. I could not see much, except directly in 
 front, and there only in spots. Add to this, the 
 heat was excessive, and the weight of the armor 
 was rather more than one wants in a summer day. 
 The battle-axe was something of a load, too, about 
 as much as Satan's spear in Milton, taller than 
 " the mast of some great ammiral." With these 
 exceptions, the armor was comfortable enough ; and 
 I think our ancestors must have had a cosey time, 
 after they got used to it. I walked about in it for 
 several minutes, swinging the axe in the most for- 
 midable manner, and could have borne it a good 
 while longer. But having satisfied my wish to 
 embody an idea, I requested my squire to help me 
 out of the harness, and I must confess I breathed 
 more freely. It was easier walking, seeing, hear- 
 ing, talking ; I could wear my spectacles, which I 
 could not under the visor ; and, upon the whole, 
 I congratulated myself on having been born in 
 the present age, rather than in the time of Charles 
 the Bold of Burgundy. 
 
 From Zurich we went to Lucerne, again 
 through a lovely country, with the Alps con- 
 stantly rising upon our view, We decided to
 
 102 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 remain here for some days, look about us, and 
 prepare for a vigorous attack on the Alps. We 
 had already made a sort of preliminary survey, 
 by ascending the Uetliberg, a very considerable 
 mountain in itself, but not much, compared with 
 the higher Alps, to which it performs the part of 
 sentinel. 
 
 We stayed a week at Lucerne, reading, wan- 
 dering about the beautiful valleys in the neigh- 
 borhood, studying the mountains, and getting 
 ready for a march among the Alps. Lucerne is 
 considered by many the most beautifully situated 
 place in Europe. I think there is no doubt that 
 Lake Lucerne is the finest of the Swiss lakes. 
 Our rooms looked directly down upon it, and over 
 to Mount Pilatus on one side, and the Righi on 
 the other. Mount Pilatus is seldom ascended ; 
 the Righi often, on account of the splendid pano- 
 rama of lakes and mountains one enjoys from its 
 summit. There are curious legends accounting 
 for the name, Pilatus ; but as they are told in the 
 guide-books, I will not take up the space to repeat 
 them. The top is often wrapped in clouds, all 
 day long ; and omens of the weather are drawn 
 from this circumstance. A German couplet says : 
 
 " If Mount Pilatus wear a cap, then is the weather fair, 
 But if he bear a sword aloft, be sure that rain is there," 
 
 the sword being one of the sharp peaks, piercing 
 the sky in clear weather, but betokening the ap- 
 proach of a storm.
 
 THE RIGHT. 103 
 
 Towards the end of our week, we set out for 
 Righi, by way of Kussnacht and Goldau. We 
 drove along the lovely shores ; crossed over to 
 Lake Zug ; passed the Chapel of Tell ; drove 
 through the village of Arth and its smiling val- 
 ley to Goldau, which, you remember, was over- 
 whelmed by an enormous landslide, burying the 
 town and its inhabitants a hundred feet deep in 
 earth and stones, one of the most awful ca- 
 tastrophes that ever overwhelmed a community. 
 I had seen the ruins of palaces and castles ; but 
 here was a mountain in ruins. The valley lay 
 dreary and desolate still ; only a few houses, a 
 small inn, and a church stand over the grave of 
 the village. In the centre the falling mass piled 
 itself up almost into a mountain. I walked to the 
 top, and looked around on the wide waste wrought 
 there nearly half a century ago ; and while I stood 
 alone on the sad pile, a raven croaked in the air 
 over my head, and made the gloom of the solitude 
 still more gloomy. 
 
 From this spot we ascended the Righi, I on a 
 
 horse, and G on foot. The ascent is by no 
 
 means so difficult as that of Mount Washington, 
 though the mountain is considerably higher. 
 Clouds were flitting about the summit, but the 
 successive views we enjoyed were magnificent. 
 All the accessories which enhance the poetry of 
 an Alpine journey were there. Pilgrims, slowly 
 winding their way up to a mountain shrine, saying
 
 104 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 their prayers as they toiled along ; by the way- 
 side rude paintings of the stations of our Lord's 
 progress to the Hill of Calvary ; here and there 
 groups of travellers like ourselves ; herds of cows, 
 grazing on the green slopes that rose from the 
 mountain stream, whose bed we were following ; 
 the tinkling of the cow-bells on every side ; the 
 yodling of the herdsmen, as they responded to 
 one another from hillside to hillside ; the chalets 
 dotting the green pastures ; men descending with 
 loads of cheeses, and the utensils employed in 
 making them, on their backs ; a woman carrying 
 a basket of chickens up to the inn, to supply the 
 wants -of the wayfarer ; Capuchin monks trudging 
 up the steep path, and showing the way to half a 
 dozen black-coated priests from the regions below 
 (I mean the eartli) ; goats hanging from the 
 rocks, as Virgil describes them, and scarcely 
 deigning to look down on the clumsy bipeds ; 
 birds sailing aloft in flocks around the distant 
 summits, all these excited our interest during 
 the fatiguing march. 
 
 When we reached the summit, we had only 
 about fifteen minutes of good weather ; yet that 
 was enough to give us an astonishing prospect, of 
 unsurpassed beauty, variety, and extent. Then a 
 thick cloud gathered around the mountain's head, 
 and shut out the magnificent vision as completely 
 as if every feature had been obliterated from the 
 face of the earth. But, as we descended, we soon
 
 LEGENDS OF TELL. 105 
 
 came below the cloud, and again enjoyed a series 
 of views like those we had in going up. We re- 
 turned to Goldau ; took another look at its soli- 
 tude and desolation ; entered the little church 
 where the names of the victims are recorded ; then 
 drove home under the heavy shadows of the Righi, 
 while the opposite chain was lighted up by the full 
 moon. 
 
 The next day we set out to cross St. Gothard, 
 the Furca, and the Grimsel. We took the steamer 
 down the lake, to Fluelen. The afternoon was 
 indescribably beautiful, and the wonderful and 
 massive shores stood out from the mirror-clear 
 water, producing the most sublime effect. 
 
 I do not know that I ever had a more interesting 
 voyage. We watched the rocky walls, and their 
 extraordinary forms, with unflagging attention ; 
 and, as there were several Bostonians on board, 
 the conversation often reverted to Agassiz and his 
 lectures. We tried to picture to ourselves the for- 
 ces which had upheaved these giant masses, and 
 twisted the solid strata into every kind of course ; 
 but when one of the party said, " Imagination fal- 
 ters, we want Agassiz," all assented. I would 
 have given a great deal to hear a lecture from him, 
 as we swept by those wonderful barriers. 
 
 We stopped that night at Altorf, and visited 
 all the spots connected with the legends of Tell. 
 Whether the story be true or not, it has sunk 
 into the hearts of the people, and all its incidents 
 
 5*
 
 106 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 are constantly presented to them in paintings, 
 statues, and poetry. All over this part of Swit- 
 zerland there are houses, the fronts of which are 
 adorned with pictures of Tell, Winkelried, Fiirst, 
 the death of Gessler, the apple scene, the sworn 
 league at Riitli, and so on ; and in the villages 
 one constantly sees the boys shooting at marks 
 with crossbows. 
 
 All this is very captivating as we enter Switzer- 
 land ; but there are other things of a widely dif- 
 ferent character that force themselves on the trav- 
 eller's attention. I was not prepared for the misery 
 and degradation of so large a part of the people. 
 Dirt, the goitre, cretinism, beggary, falsehood, 
 cringing impudence, stand by the wayside, and 
 make the heart sick. I was half inclined to turn 
 back from the Alps, and not attempt the passage. 
 Old men, young men, boys, children scarcely able 
 to speak, women of all ages, surrounded us and 
 persisted in their demands, with a shamelessness 
 that shut up all feeling of compassion, exhibiting, 
 not only the diseases from which they were, in 
 some cases, actually suffering, but pretended dis- 
 eases, and artificial sores. We saw one old man 
 hide his hat, and then he came up to us bare- 
 headed, with a piteous story that he had nothing 
 to shelter his aged locks from the storm. A stout 
 boy was shooting at a mark with a crossbow, after 
 every shot begging for money, telling us his name 
 was William Tell. Schenken sie etwas, " Give
 
 ROAD UP ST. GOTHARD. 107 
 
 me something," seemed to ring in our ears at 
 every turn, and from morning till night. 
 
 I was totally unprepared for this in Switzerland ; 
 I expected it in Italy. What would the old heroes 
 of Seinpach and Morat have said, could they have 
 seen, in prophetic vision, their descendants lying 
 and begging of the passing traveller, running after 
 carriages, thrusting their hands in at the windows, 
 and exhausting the patience of the most merciful ? 
 I do not believe this state of things exists in the 
 retired parts of Switzerland. It seems to me most 
 probable that the inns and highways, by which the 
 travelling world is constantly pouring its currents 
 through the country, must have attracted the lazy, 
 worthless, and dishonest offscourings of the pop- 
 ulation. Murray's guide-book, however, asserts 
 that the whole population of Switzerland is cor- 
 rupt. It would be as rational to infer the uni- 
 versal corruption of the English nation, from the 
 enormous system of pocket-picking practised on 
 strangers at the universities, in the churches, at 
 noblemen's castles, at the Queen's palace, and in 
 her stables, to say nothing of cabmen and other 
 cheats on a smaller scale. 
 
 But this is a digression from the Alps. The 
 road up St. Gothard is a wonderful piece of engi-. 
 neering, mounting apparently inaccessible heights 
 by a series of terraces or tourniquets, so that car- 
 riages are very easily driven up. The Reuss 
 flows down, and the sound of the water is heard
 
 108 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the whole distance, though the river is sometimes 
 so deep below the road that one can scarcely see 
 it. Then the rocky walls rise steep and bare on 
 either side, seeming to rest on the deep founda- 
 tions of the earth, and to support the sky on their 
 summits. 
 
 I walked a considerable part of the way to enjoy 
 the wonderful scene more completely. It was a 
 good day's journey to the Hospitenthal, or valley 
 of the Hospice, on the height of the pass. This 
 valley is a beautiful spot, green and lovely itself, 
 though at so immense a height, and surrounded by 
 snow-capped pinnacles. We spent the night here. 
 
 The next morning we started for the Furca 
 Pass, and the Grimsel ; but no more carriage 
 roads. I was strongly tempted to walk the whole 
 distance, from the Hospitenthal to Meyringen ; but 
 reflected that I was twenty years older than I was 
 twenty years ago, and much heavier than when I 
 was much lighter, so I finally decided to com- 
 promise the matter by taking one horse for myself 
 and our courier. The rest of the party had each 
 a horse, and two men were employed to take Edie 
 the whole distance, some fifty miles, in a chair. 
 
 Now, if I were animated by the proper traveller's 
 spirit, I should rise into the sublime, in my descrip- 
 tion of the appalling dangers from which we mirac- 
 ulously escaped. I should make each particular 
 hair stand on end by telling you what dizzy heights 
 we scaled by paths scarce a foot in width, along
 
 ALPINE PATHS. 109 
 
 the edges of perpendicular precipices, ten thousand 
 feet or more in depth. I should freeze your blood 
 with horror by depicting the mountainous masses 
 of rock just tottering to their fall, by which we 
 had to pass. I should make you shudder to think 
 of the mighty glaciers we crossed, and the yawn- 
 ing crevasses, a thousand feet deep, over which we 
 were obliged to jump. I should thrill you with 
 the thunder of the descending avalanche, that 
 came within a hair's breadth of burying us five 
 hundred feet deep in snow. I should But 
 enough of these awful adventures, that trip so 
 freely from the pens of summer tourists. 
 
 In plain prose, and rigid truth, the whole jour- 
 ney was exciting in the highest degree. The path 
 does wind along the edge of tremendous precipices, 
 and above it the rocky mountain-sides do rise sheer 
 and awful up to heaven. Sometimes the path 
 descends so steeply that it seems impossible to go 
 down without breaking your neck ; again it seems 
 to go straight up into the air, and the wonder is, 
 how any four-footed beast can possibly climb it, 
 without rolling over backwards. If you look up, 
 you half believe the mountain is coming down 
 upon you ; if you look down, you are struck by 
 the exceeding probability that you may reach the 
 bottom a great deal sooner than you intend. With 
 all this, you have an abiding confidence in your 
 sure-footed and faithful beast, and you know that 
 he will carry you safely through.
 
 110 FAMILIAE LETTERS. 
 
 I walked about half the whole distance ; but it 
 so happened that I rode over the worst parts of 
 the way. I felt astonished, delighted, and con- 
 stantly amazed by the grandeur of the gigantic 
 scenery ; and only once did I feel in the least 
 startled with any sense of danger. In one place, 
 in the steep side of an enormous rock a way is 
 scooped out, just deep enough for a horse to pass, 
 and high enough for the rider, if he stoops. The 
 side of the road towards the abyss is guarded by a 
 wooden railing. Near this spot a beggar-girl had 
 placed herself; and as my horse entered this 
 rather critical passage, she came up and spoke in 
 the peculiar, inarticulate whine they all employ, 
 standing between the horse and the rocky side. 
 The horse shied an instant, pressed my leg against 
 the slender railing, and I looked over into what 
 really seemed a fathomless abyss. There was no 
 actual danger, for the horse knew his footing ex- 
 actly ; but the appearance of danger set my blood 
 in motion for a moment, and made my pulse beat 
 at a pretty rapid rate. Agassiz will remember 
 this spot. 
 
 But I am getting before my story. We dined 
 at the Furca Pass, and then continued our course, 
 making for the Grimsel. We passed several small 
 glaciers on the right and left, and soon came in 
 sight of the beautiful glacier of the Rhone, the 
 first real glacier I had seen. I was glad to find 
 that our path led across a considerable portion of
 
 THE GRIMSEL. Ill 
 
 it ; and as I was walking here, I had a good op- 
 portunity to notice all its peculiarities. Before 
 reaching its extremity the road left it and ran 
 along the mountain-side. 
 
 We crossed the Rhone by a bridge about five 
 minutes' walk below the end of the glacier. I 
 counted seven streams issuing from it, and uniting 
 below ; three larger than the rest, and perhaps 
 one main stream, which should be considered the 
 Rhone. I was interested to notice the great mass 
 of stones, mud. and rubbish which it had brought 
 down, and carefully laid across the valley. We 
 had the glacier in sight for some time, as we 
 clambered up the mountains on the right bank 
 of the Rhone ; but as the river was not going our 
 way, we reluctantly parted company, soon after 
 he got released from his icy prison-house. 
 
 Towards evening we came into the classical 
 dominion of Agassiz, the valley of the Aar, and 
 the Grimsel. I assure you my heart beat with 
 unusual pleasure, as my eye rested on these 
 scenes, so familiar to me^ and yet so strange ; and 
 I eagerly watched every characteristic feature, as 
 we slowly picked our way down the mountainous 
 bank of the Aar, to the little inn, the Grimsel. 
 
 I was doomed to a considerable disappointment ; 
 for when I inquired for the old host, who knew 
 Agassiz so well, he was no longer there. A new 
 man entertains the passing traveller ; and, what is 
 worse, a new king another Erl-king has seized
 
 112 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the vacant throne of ice; the palace of Agassiz 
 has been swept away by the resistless course of 
 the frozen stream, as remorseless and destructive 
 as the stream of Time ; and though the memory 
 of Agassiz freshly lives among these mountains 
 and these realms of snow and ice, it is the memory 
 of an illustrious but departed dynasty, a sort 
 of Rhamses the Great, whose gigantic figure awes 
 the existing race, but sways it no longer. 
 
 The end of the glacier is some miles up the 
 valley, from the inn. We had seen it from one of 
 the heights over which we passed, but I longed to 
 get a nearer view. It wanted yet an hour or two 
 of dark, and I set out alone, up the valley of the 
 Aar, to meet the descending glacier. It was a 
 wild scene, and the walk was much longer than I 
 anticipated. However, on I went, passing over 
 immense piles of earth and rock that here and there 
 half filled the valley, and turning corners, round 
 each of which I thought to meet my old and frozen 
 friend. At last I just came in sight of his broad 
 front, as the darkness spread its wings over the 
 valley, and I dared not go nearer. I turned to 
 retrace my steps, and then the wild grandeur of 
 the place came over me with triple force. 
 
 The stars took their places, one by one ; but 
 the deep shadows along the sides of the valley 
 darkened into an awful blackness ; the huge and 
 jagged rocks sprang up into a thousand weird and 
 fantastic shapes ; the streams that dashed down
 
 JOURNEY FROM THE GRDISEL. 113 
 
 the headlong heights seemed to multiply and 
 strengthen their tumultuous voices, as if they 
 clamored to fill the ear of Night ; while from 
 the bed of the valley the Aar sent forth a low 
 but mighty undertone, distinctly and continuously 
 heard amid the shouts of the lesser rival waters. 
 The intensity of the solitude was indescribable; 
 and, with all these sounds crowded upon the 
 strained sense of hearing, a strange, appalling 
 silence brooded over the deserted road of the 
 ancient glacier. 
 
 It was not so easy as I had supposed to find my 
 way, but my head is steady and my foot is careful. 
 I got out of the path more than once, but was not 
 confused, and groped my way back again ; and so 
 by slow degrees regained the inn at half past nine 
 o'clock, profoundly impressed with the sublimity 
 of a solitary walk up the gigantic foot-path trod- 
 den some millions of years ago by the ice-king, 
 to keep an appointment by night with a glacier, 
 and fully resolved never to seek another interview 
 with so lonely and majestic a personage, under 
 exactly the same circumstances. The ghost of 
 Hamlet's father was a pleasant old gentleman 
 compared to this ; and yet I am glad to have had 
 precisely this experience of the Alps. 
 
 The next morning we resumed our march. 
 Our procession made a very respectable figure, 
 five horses, two guides, our courier, and Edie with 
 her bearers. There were two English parties
 
 114 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 crossing at nearly the same time. They stopped 
 over night at the Grimsel, and started, one before 
 and the other after us, in the morning. 
 
 We had a' delightful continuation of our jour- 
 ney. At a place called Handeck, we saw the 
 splendid fall of the Aar, and the play of the rain- 
 bows in the foam. The height of the fall is con- 
 siderably greater than that of Niagara; but the 
 volume of water is so much less, and the surround- 
 ing features the woods, rocks, and chasms so 
 totally different, that no comparison ought to be 
 made. Each has its own beauty and grandeur, by 
 which it must stand or fall. 
 
 In traversing these regions, I recalled Agassiz's 
 writings and lectures with infinite pleasure. In 
 my lonely walk up the Aar, I looked for the 
 scratches and grooves made by the old glaciers, on 
 the bottom of the valley, where the rock was ex- 
 posed, and still more along the sides, up to the 
 range of granite needles which stand along the 
 heights. And as we descended the valley of the 
 Aar, we noticed the smoothed surface of the lat- 
 eral rocks, with the fine lines traced in a direction 
 nearly parallel to the axis of the river. 
 
 The most remarkable portions are the projecting 
 masses of rock at the places where the river makes 
 a turn, which stand out like the round towers at 
 the corners of ancient castles, smooth as if chis- 
 elled by the mason, and rising many hundreds 
 of feet above the present bed of the river. If
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE AAR. 115 
 
 this was the work of an ancient glacier, one can 
 see perfectly well how the tightened pressure of 
 the immense mass, turning the corner, crowding 
 from above and drawing from below, should have 
 wrought the surface, at these particular points, 
 into a polish which has better resisted the wear 
 and tear of time and weather than the other spaces, 
 where no curve is made. At some distance be- 
 low the Grimsel there is, on the left of the river, 
 an immense and sloping mass of rock, over the 
 lower part of whose surface the path runs, pro- 
 tected by a fence, which is supported by wooden 
 stakes driven into the rock. All over this the 
 grinding process of the glacier is very distinct. 
 In some spots the surface has been picked, like a 
 millstone, by time ; but even here, over the tops 
 of the still remaining points, the grooves are trace- 
 able, all running in the same direction. 
 
 These appearances diminish as we descend the 
 valley of the Aar, and quite disappear before ar- 
 riving at Guttannen, the sides of the mountains 
 being completely broken, except in a single place, 
 where there is another of those natural round 
 towers, standing as if to defend the mountain for- 
 tress from the assaults of Time the Destroyer. 
 
 This is the region of enormous land-slides, 
 blocking up the valley, and narrowing the bed of 
 the river ; of breaks in the rocky masses, rent by 
 awful convulsions of nature ; of huge ravines, hol- 
 lowed out by snow, ice, and water ; of great en-
 
 116 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 closed valleys, once the beds of lakes, and now 
 smiling fields of grain and grass, the descents to 
 which are wonderfully steep and wild. 
 
 These were the general features of our journey 
 over this remarkable portion of the Alps. At St. 
 Gothard and the Furca, the principal chains of 
 mountains in Switzerland meet ; and within the 
 compass of a few miles the rivers of Switzerland, 
 Germany, Italy, and France take their rise, flow- 
 ing to all the points of the compass. Here is the 
 heart of the Alps, that enormous granite heart 
 from which the veins and arteries diverge ; that 
 heart, rocky-hard and icy-cold, from which, how- 
 ever, circulate the joy and freshness and fertility 
 of the surrounding lands, from which the fields 
 of Switzerland, the plains of Lombardy, the vine- 
 yards of the Rhine, draw their life and gather in 
 the gifts which gladden the heart of man and make 
 his face to shine. 
 
 During the Saturday and Sunday, when we were 
 slowly passing from the Hospitenthal to the valley 
 of the Meyringen, I was haunted with the thought 
 that we were moving through a cathedral of the 
 Almighty's building. The enoi-mous aisles were 
 the ravines and ancient glacier-beds His wisdom 
 had designed. The walls were the solid moun- 
 tains He had built. The clustered columns were 
 the rocky piles which the old glaciers, His work- 
 men, had hewn and chiselled out. The spires 
 were the granite pinnacles, so tall, so slender, so
 
 ARRIVAL AT MEYRINGEN. 117 
 
 exquisitely traced, which His hand had set up on 
 the gigantic parapets and walls. The painted ceil- 
 ing was the blue arch of Heaven, which He had 
 spanned from side to side. The lighted tapers 
 were the sun, the moon, and the stars, which His 
 hreath had kindled. The pictures were the green 
 slopes, the dark forests, the white snow,\ em- 
 blem of purity, the glancing ice, the many-tinted 
 flowers, whose slender forms and fragile beauty 
 contrast so strangely with the austere sublimities 
 around them, and whose fragrance is the incense 
 of Heaven. The music was the wind roaring 
 from the mountain gorge ; the organ-tones of the 
 river, pouring through its channel, worn by many 
 thousand years, and never suspending its impres- 
 sive monotone ; with the sharper variations of the 
 smaller streams, playing through their rocky pipes, 
 and the crash of the distant avalanche. And 
 what was the fitting worship for such a temple of 
 God ? Silence and awe. 
 
 Goethe was right when he said, that speech is 
 impertinence in the great presence of Nature. 
 The thoughts capable of expression are mean 
 and insignificant ; and man, the babbler, can only 
 stand abashed and overpowered by the sense of 
 the Infinite, which these tremendous works of 
 God in the realms of Nature awaken. 
 
 We had lovely weather during the entire jour- 
 ney, and nothing happened to mar its pleasures 
 in the least. We arrived at Meyringen safe and
 
 118 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 sound, before Sunday night; and a few moments 
 after we were safely housed we had a beautiful 
 shower, and heavy thunder on the distant moun- 
 tain-tops. As we approached the vale we were 
 again assailed by beggars. At the turnings of the 
 road young girls stationed themselves, and as we 
 passed, saluted us with the Ranz des Vaches. You 
 know I never could resist the influence of music ; 
 so, though I had made a firm resolve never to give 
 a sixpence to a beggar, I could not help throwing 
 down a few pieces to the first pretty groups we 
 encountered, in their Sunday dresses and broad 
 straw hats. But they came a little too frequently; 
 so, like Ulysses, I compelled myself to resist their 
 siren voices, shut my purse remorselessly, and 
 went on my way. The next attack we had was 
 made by boys standing on their heads, the mo- 
 ment they saw us approaching, and then running 
 up for money as if they had performed a meri- 
 torious action. This it was comparatively easy to 
 resist. 
 
 We spent the night at Meyringen, and the next 
 morning went on to Brienz. We crossed the 
 Lake of Brienz to Interlachen, passing by the 
 beautiful falls of the Giessbach. 
 
 Interlachen is a charming spot between the 
 Lake of Brienz and the Lake of Thun. It is the 
 resort of swarms of summer tourists, and resem- 
 bles in this respect Newport and Saratoga. The 
 Queen of Holland was there during our visit ; but
 
 CONTRASTS OF CLIMATE. 119 
 
 as we had sent our court dresses forward to Thun, 
 we did not call on her Majesty. I trust she did 
 not consider herself slighted by the omission. The 
 grounds are cool, refreshing, planted with noble 
 trees, under which we walked, and watched the 
 gay figures that flaunted by. There is a deal of 
 affectation among these summer tourists, men and 
 women, here as well as at home. Girls, in lacka- 
 daisical mountain-dresses, with the large iron- 
 pointed alpenstock, as if they meant to climb the 
 Jungfrau and Mont Blanc ; with broad Swiss hats, 
 as if they really meant to live in the Alpine pas- 
 tures, (all worn with a jaunty, conscious air of 
 being irresistibly attractive,) make a queer con- 
 trast to the sincerity and simplicity of the Alpine 
 nature. 
 
 The next morning early we hired a boat, and 
 were rowed down the lake to the falls of Giess- 
 bach, where we breakfasted. We climbed up the 
 side of the mountain to see the succession of 
 cascades which together form what is called the 
 Giessbach, a very lovely spot, the silver waters 
 framed in the green foliage, and grassy lawns giv- 
 ing an air of freshness and repose to the scene. 
 
 Returning in the same way to Interlachen, we 
 took the afternoon boat for Thun, another town 
 delightfully placed on the shore of the lake. It 
 was singular to feel the hot sun of midsummer,* 
 and see the vineyards with clustering grapes on 
 one side of the lake, while rising high on the op-
 
 120 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 posite shore stood the eternal snows of the Eiger, 
 Monch, and Jungfrau. I watched these moun- 
 tains, especially the last, with great interest. I 
 
 looked at it carefully through G 's telescope, 
 
 and tried to picture Agassiz crawling up the icy 
 margin of the topmost peak. One person has 
 been killed within a year in trying to make the 
 ascent. 
 
 From Thun we took a carriage to Berne, where 
 we stayed all night. There I saw Mr. Fay, our 
 resident Minister, who gave me much information 
 about the state of Switzerland, whioh at this mo- 
 ment is very critical. 
 
 The bear is the armorial bearing of Berne ; in 
 recognition of which they keep four live bears in 
 an immense stone enclosure, at the public charge. 
 We paid our respects to these embodied majesties 
 of the mighty state, and treated them to bits of 
 bread. I went so far as to expend thirty centimes 
 in three loaves, for the pleasure ^of feeding these 
 creatures. It was amusing to see how well they 
 had been taught to beg. One the biggest of 
 the four when spoken to, would stand on his 
 hind legs, turn his head with a sentimental look, 
 and pass his paw, in the most affecting manner, 
 over his black snout, saying as plainly as bear 
 could say it, SchenJcen sie etwas, and we gave 
 Jiim bread. 
 
 From Berne we went to Freyburg, where we 
 passed the night ; and from Freyburg to Morat,
 
 NEUCHATEL. 121 
 
 near the famous battle-ground of Charles the Bold, 
 celebrated in Weber's old ballad, beginning 
 
 " The tidings flew from land to land." 
 
 From Morat, yesterday afternoon, to Neuchatel, 
 where I close this letter, having promised in my 
 last to write you only brief epistles. It is now 
 Saturday, the 27th of August. My room looks 
 down on the lake, over to the whole range of the 
 Bernese Alps, and within a stone's throw of Agas- 
 siz's former house. I have seen his portrait, in 
 the little reading-room of the H8tel des Alpes, 
 where we are. Kindest love to all.
 
 122 FAMILIAR LETTEES. 
 
 XII. 
 
 GENEVA, September 2, 1853. 
 
 AT Neuchatel I saw several of the Professors, 
 among the rest, a fine, handsome, ani- 
 mated young man, M. Vouga, who, I believe, has 
 the place that Agassiz formerly held, and was edu- 
 cated by him. He called on me, with M. Prince, 
 the Greek Professor. I met by accident Professor 
 Berthoud; but the Misses Berthoud, to whom 
 Agassiz gave me a letter, were in the country. I , 
 passed a very pleasant evening with the Rev. M. 
 Godet, and some of these gentlemen. They were 
 curious to know all about Agassiz and Guyot, and 
 made many inquiries respecting our system of ed- 
 ucation. They seemed surprised at what I told 
 them, and unanimously agreed that, in one. funda- 
 mental point, the four years of college study 
 preceding the special or professional studies, our 
 system is infinitely preferable to theirs. They 
 used the strongest expressions of regret that with 
 them the young men commenced their special 
 studies so early ; condemning the practice as a 
 great obstacle in the way of a truly liberal educa- 
 tion. This surprised me ; but I think their view 
 a just one. 
 
 I liked the Neuchatel people much. The place,
 
 LAKE OF GENEVA. 123 
 
 too, is very charmingly situated, with the finest 
 conceivable prospects. We were not able to as- 
 cend any of the neighboring heights, on account 
 of the clouds and rain. 
 
 From Neuchatel we went to Lausanne, I in 
 the diligence, and the rest of the party in a car- 
 riage. A Swiss-Frenchman and myself alone oc- 
 cupied the coupe. He was very talkative, asking 
 a million of questions, such as, " Is the Fall of Ni- 
 agara on the Mississippi ? " " Do girls receive 
 any education in America? " "Is New York in 
 Massachusetts, where they have the Maine liquor- 
 law ? " " Are there any apples and pears in 
 America ? " " Do people have to get passports 
 when they travel in America ? " " Can the Pres- 
 ident go to war ? " "Is there any university in 
 America ? " " Are there any educated doctors ? " 
 I expounded all these subjects as well as my lim- 
 ited French would allow, with a good deal of 
 amusement to myself. It was, at all events, a 
 capital exercise in speaking French. 
 
 At Lausanne we stopped at " Hotel Gibbon," 
 which occupies part of Gibbon's garden, where he 
 finished his History. I went, of course, to see his 
 house, still standing; and it was interesting to 
 read the name " Curchod " on one of the signs. 
 
 The next day we came down to Geneva, by 
 land, along the northern shore of the lake. The 
 weather was delightful. The scenery along that 
 shore is soft and beautiful ; the lake itself of a most 
 remarkable azure, and tranquil as the sky.
 
 124 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 xm. 
 
 BRIEG, September 6. 
 
 I DID not expect to write again until we reached 
 Milan ; but being detained at this place by a 
 heavy rain, I am well pleased to have the oppor- 
 tunity. One thing is very certain, travelling is 
 not playing. I do not think my time was ever so 
 fully occupied, as since I have been on the Conti- 
 nent. In England, I gave myself up more to the 
 spirit of holiday ; but the moment I touched the 
 shore of France, I began to work ; and ever since, 
 the only trouble has been to find hours enough for 
 what it seemed to me indispensable to do. Since 
 we entered Switzerland, contrary to my anti- 
 cipation, I have been as busy as I was in Ger- 
 many. But there is so much to excite one's in- 
 terest here, that it is impossible to rest. In all my 
 travels I have chosen to combine study with sight 
 and place seeing, rather than to spend all the time 
 in running about ; and in consequence I have been 
 obliged to omit some places and things which most 
 travellers make it a point to see, for the sake of 
 seeing others more carefully, and of having time 
 for other subjects. 
 
 As soon as we entered Switzerland I read the
 
 ALPINE PASTORAL LIFE. 125 
 
 Swiss constitution carefully through, in order to 
 form some idea of the present government ; and, 
 as opportunities offered, I have inquired into its 
 operation. It is modelled on our own constitution, 
 with some great, and very unwise, modifications. 
 
 There are, in the present condition of Swiss so- 
 ciety, elements that threaten the stability of the 
 government. There is the fiercest hostility, 
 breaking out occasionally into acts of violence, 
 between the religious sects, between the Cath- 
 olics and Protestants. There is a strong Cantonal 
 pride that submits itself unwillingly to the central 
 administration. There is a powerful aristocra- 
 cy, particularly in Berne, who bear a deadly 
 hatred tS the government, and would gladly see it 
 overthrown. Add to all this the detestable doc- 
 trines of the radical party, worse here than any- 
 where else, and the open hostility of the sur- 
 rounding despotisms, and you see at once in what 
 a critical position the Swiss Confederacy at this 
 moment stands. 
 
 Since I have been in the country I have read 
 the greater part of Zschokke's History of Swit- 
 zerland, in connection with the famous battle scenes 
 which I have visited. You can imagine what 
 interest the scenes themselves have lent to the 
 description. 
 
 Another subject has occupied me a good deal. 
 I have given you, in one of my letters, an outside 
 view of Alpine pastoral life. It has made a very
 
 126 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 pleasing impression on me ; and I was delighted to 
 find this life reproduced in the popular poetry. 
 There are several local dialects in Switzerland, 
 in the German part, modifications of the German 
 language. I have made a collection of the songs, 
 some of which give the most faithful pictures of 
 Alpine life, and have a charming natural beauty. 
 I had the good" fortune to travel in a diligence 
 with a man who understood these dialects ; and 
 as I was occupied with one of my volumes, he 
 helped me to many passages which the German 
 language was not sufficient to explain. I intend- 
 ed, also, to make a collection of the Ranz des 
 Vaches, and perhaps I shall still be able to do it. 
 At all events, this combination of poetry with 
 common life has been a constant pleasure to me, 
 during our rambles among the Alps. 
 
 At Geneva, we had several violent thunder- 
 storms. I wish you would turn to Childe Harold, 
 and read his description of Lake Leman in a calm 
 and in a storm. We saw them both to perfection. 
 But the rainy weather there not only kept us from 
 pursuing our journey among the Alps, but so broke 
 up the roads and bridges as to interfere with our 
 
 plans in other respects. We sent L and 
 
 H to Martigny, while G and I went to 
 
 Chamouni, to pay our respects to Mont Blanc. 
 The streams had been swollen v by the rains, and 
 several bridges were swept away, so that we had 
 to go in a small carriage. We set out early in the
 
 WALK BY NIGHT AMONG THE ALPS. 127 
 
 morning. The journey lay through a lovely re- 
 gion at first ; gradually it grew more rough and 
 wild. Everywhere were marks of the violence of 
 the storm, and in some places our progress was 
 slow. We passed through the grandest ravines, 
 with gigantic walls of rock, rising almost perpen- 
 dicularly ; and night overtook us long before we 
 reached Chamouni. But suddenly, as we were 
 crossing a bridge at Villeneuve, the clouds broke 
 away from the distant summit of Mont Blanc, and 
 the snowy mass shone with dazzling lustre in the 
 rays of the sun. As evening drew on, the whole 
 range of the mountain was disclosed, and that 
 peculiar rosy tint called " the glow of the Alps " 
 spread over it, certainly the most magnificent 
 spectacle I ever beheld. We stopped in a little 
 village to rest the horses. I sat down on the trunk 
 of a fallen tree, and watched the changes of the 
 gorgeous vision, until the sun, which had long dis- 
 appeared from the valley where we were, finally 
 withdrew his last rays from those heaven-kissing 
 heights, and the purple and rose and pink faded 
 away into the cold white of snow under the light 
 of the stars. 
 
 We had to walk for a considerable distance. A 
 walk by night among the Alps is very solemn. 
 In one place the bridge over a roaring stream 
 from the mountain had been carried off, and the 
 road was completely broken up. An old woman 
 came out from a neighboring chalet, with a lamp
 
 128 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 about as large as a glowworm, and helped us over 
 on a single log, rather a narrow footpath for 
 the night. The carriage was dragged through the 
 stream with difficulty, and broken. However, we 
 reached Charaouni safely, and passed the night 
 there. The next day we had a superb view of 
 Mont Blanc in the morning light. We had no 
 time to go up to the Mer de Glace, and, besides, 
 the weather was very uncertain ; so we took mules 
 and rode through the mountains to Martigny. 
 
 Our course lay through the region of glaciers. 
 We passed five large ones, directly by the end 
 of two of them, through the valley of the Arve. 
 The path wound through valleys, up the sides of 
 mountains, through wonderful gorges, over passes, 
 up to the Tete Noire ; then to Forclaz, from which 
 the glorious mountains of the Bernese Oberland 
 and the valley of the Rhone came into view. It 
 was a second Sunday among the Alps, in God's 
 own temple, with the sights and voices of Nature's 
 solemn worship all around us. 
 
 We met the rest of the party at Martigny, and 
 thence pursued our journey for two days along the 
 valley of the Rhone. 
 
 ISELLA, September 7. 
 
 WE have just crossed the Simplon. The day 
 has been partly rainy ; but as we came up on the 
 Swiss side, the clouds ocean-like in extent 
 sometimes rolled away, and opened distant views,
 
 THE SIMPLON. 129 
 
 deep down into the valleys, and up to the snowy 
 pinnacles. We dined at the Hospice, with the 
 Pres Hospitaliers, and came down to this place 
 this afternoon. The descent on the Italian side is 
 the most wonderful and majestic piece of Alpine 
 scenery we have yet passed through. The mass 
 and height and forms of the rocks are beyond the 
 power of language to describe. The waterfalls 
 that come down their sides seem to drop from the 
 clouds, and the sound of the Doveria, rushing be- 
 tween the walls of its deep and narrow channel, is 
 the voice of many waters. Its solemn monotone 
 fills the valley in which we now are, and its foam- 
 ing surface is visible from my windows. 
 
 6*
 
 130 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 MILAN, September 10, 1853. 
 
 MY last letter was finished at the foot of the 
 Alps. We are now fairly in beautiful 
 Italy, and in one of its loveliest and richest cities. 
 We left Isella the day before yesterday, travel- 
 ling along the valley of the Doveria, the moun- 
 tains gradually lowering on either side, then break- 
 ing into isolated masses, and at last fairly descend- 
 ing to the plain. The*weather was beautiful, and 
 we were soon made conscious of the Italian sky. 
 The day before, I wore my thickest winter coat ; 
 we encountered a snow-storm, and at the Hospice 
 of the Simplon we crowded around a wood-fire, 
 that sent up a cheery blaze into the capacious 
 chimney. In twenty-four hours, at Domo d' Os- 
 sola, we felt the summer heat again ; we had 
 reached the land of the lizard, hundreds of which 
 lay basking in the sun, the grape, clusters of 
 which, just ripening, overhung the road, the 
 castanea, which threw its delightful shadow across 
 the way, the fig, pleasant to the thought, but 
 insipid to the taste, and the lemon, as Goethe 
 and Byron sing. The contrast was wonderful,
 
 LAGO MAGGIORE. 131 
 
 Northern and Southern nature ; the language, 
 too, passing suddenly from German to Italian ; 
 the looks of the people, so much more animated ; 
 the houses gayer and more airy ; the frescos on 
 the exterior and the pictures in the little roadside 
 chapels displaying a more poetical sense, and a 
 deeper and more universal feeling of art. Here I 
 plucked my first Italian grape, and bought my first 
 Italian book. It was a holiday, and the whole 
 population were in their gala dresses, strolling idly 
 about the streets, and over the country. 
 
 Beyond Domo d' Ossola the plain is bounded by 
 gently sloping, but high hills ; villages, country- 
 houses, churches, with their campaniles or belfry- 
 towers, dot their green sides with a charming va- 
 riety of human interests ; and the sound of the 
 distant church-bells came down into the valley, 
 with a thousand delightful associations. The wind 
 played softly around us, and the deep, deep blue 
 the first we had seen of the sky of Italy bent 
 over us. So we journeyed on, the pleasure of the 
 day interrupted only by an occasional beggar, 
 coming up to the carriage with his piteous look, 
 and whining tale of poverty and woe. But even 
 these were different from the shameless rascals 
 who persecute you in Switzerland. They are 
 neither so impudent nor so persevering ; and 
 they do not curse you, as the others do, if you re- 
 fuse to give them money. 
 
 We dined on the lovely shore of Lago Mag-
 
 132 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 giore ; and after dinner drove along that beautiful 
 sheet, lying as tranquil under the canopy of heaven 
 as if it were reposing in slumber. The shades of 
 evening succeeded the colors of sunset ; and the 
 moon I had not yet seen it, though it was sev- 
 eral days old silvered the smooth surface of 
 the lake. Slowly and quietly we passed the Isola 
 Bella and the Borromean Islands, rising like a 
 dream of beauty out of the bosom of the water. 
 I cannot express the glory of these scenes, nor the 
 strange contrast they presented to the wild and 
 solemn grandeur of the Alps, which we had so 
 lately felt. It seemed impossible that we could 
 have passed 50 swiftly from one to the other. 
 
 We stopped at Arona, a small town on the west 
 of the lake, for the night. Early in the morning 
 we resumed the journey. At Isella our passports 
 had been called for, and our luggage slightly ex- 
 amined, as we passed into Piedmont. Now, we 
 had the more formidable barrier of Austria to go 
 through ; and from the stories I had heard, I fully 
 expected that half, at least, of my books would be 
 seized. But, though almost everything was ex- 
 amined, nothing was objected to. I was careful to 
 show them all ; but told them they were books I 
 had picked up in travelling, and were only for pur- 
 poses of instruction and amusement. As they 
 were mostly in German and in the dialects of 
 Switzerland, none of which were apparently un- 
 derstood by the officials, after looking at them
 
 LODGINGS IN MILAN. 133 
 
 gravely for a moment, they passed them without 
 
 a word of comment. G had three or four 
 
 bunches of cigars ; rather more, they thought, than 
 one person ought to have ; so they very good- 
 naturedly assumed that I was a smoker, and hand- 
 ed over one half to me, and the cigars all passed 
 without further question. I have nowhere found 
 the slightest disposition to annoy or detain us un- 
 necessarily. The whole system of passports and 
 custom-houses is a nuisance ; but we have found 
 the officials, everywhere, polite and obliging. 
 
 Our journey lay through the broad rich plains 
 of Lombardy. For the first time we saw the 
 noble white oxen, celebrated in Virgil's time, and 
 beautiful animals they are. We passed numerous 
 plantations of mulberry-trees, cultivated for the 
 silkworm, and extensive fields of Indian corn, 
 which had a home -like look. Towards evening 
 we began to pass handsome country-seats, shaded 
 avenues, and other indications of a great city. 
 By and by the splendid " Arch of Peace," one 
 of the finest monuments in Italy, greeted our 
 sight. Here again our passports were examined, 
 and in a few momenfc we were rolling over the 
 paved streets of Milan. 
 
 We took lodgings at the HQtel de Ville, on the 
 Corso, and within sight of the Cathedral. Our 
 rooms are really beautiful. "I dreamt that I 
 dwelt in marble halls " has ceased to be a dream ; 
 the floors are tessellated marble, and the ceilings
 
 134 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 are tastefully adorned with frescos. The furni- 
 ture is elegant, and the table incomparably better 
 than the best in Germany and Switzerland ; and 
 here we shall remain three or four days. 
 
 I ran out immediately to see the Cathedral. It 
 has been nearly five hundred years in building; 
 and a series of the greatest architects in the world 
 have, during that period, in regular succession, 
 presided over the work. The greatest sculptors, 
 from Michael Angelo down, have chiselled the 
 three or four thousand statues that people its 
 niches, fill its canopies, and stand on its pinnacles. 
 I saw it first at twilight. Its marble tracery 
 seemed to fill the sky. The loveliest star of even- 
 ing was slowly gliding among the Christian heroes 
 and saints whose marble forms were drawn upon 
 the heavens, to which they seemed to belong more 
 than to earth. The figures in the niches along 
 the sides of the Cathedral were thrown into shad- 
 ow, and peered dimly out into the coming night. 
 I walked slowly around this assemblage of won- 
 ders, and was compelled to admit that all I had 
 yet seen of the splendor of Christian temples fell 
 below this one most magnificent act of devotion, 
 still unfinished, though already five hundred years 
 in performing. 
 
 This morning, as soon as I was dressed, I went 
 again to the Cathedral. The sun was streaming 
 through the eastern colored windows, and filling 
 the vast spaces of the interior with a subdued, but
 
 CATHEDRAL OF MILAN. 135 
 
 rich and splendid light ; and hundreds of worship- 
 pers were kneeling and repeating their prayers, in 
 different parts of the church. Whether you look 
 up to the lofty and wonderfully curved ceiling, 
 down the lengthening aisles, across the transept, 
 whether you dwell upon the clustered columns, or 
 fretted vault, or painted windows of the apsis, 
 your senses are enchanted and your mind is filled 
 by the vastness of the conception, the matchless 
 beauty of the details, and the wealth of genius with 
 which they have been executed. The Alps are 
 unique, in their way. It is absurd to compare 
 our mountains with them. You feel in the imme- 
 diate presence of the Almighty as you traverse 
 their mighty passes, or cross their mountain aisles, 
 and look up to the pinnacled heights that bound 
 them. The sight of the glacier, and the com- 
 mingling roar of rivers and water-falls, impress 
 you with evidences of majestic power, such as no 
 human work ever produces. But of all things I 
 have ever seen, the effect of the Milan Cathedral 
 comes nearest to that of one of the great works 
 of God. 
 
 In the course of the forenoon we all went there 
 together. A service was performing, and we 
 heard "a part of the Gregorian Mass. One hun- 
 dred and eighty priests are attached to the Cathe- 
 dral ; perhaps fifty were present. The chanting 
 had a somewhat monotonous, but very solemn and 
 unearthly sound.
 
 136 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 We ascended the Cathedral with a guide ; first 
 to the roofs, among the pinnacles, where the eye 
 wanders over an immese garden of marble plants 
 and flowers, with which the balustrades of the 
 flying buttresses are richly ornamented. A guide 
 is as much needed here as among the Alps. Next 
 we went up to the roofs of the transepts, and were 
 on a level with the statues on the pinnacles, a 
 goodly company. Here we saw, each by itself, 
 in a compartment of the roof, Michael Angelo's 
 Adam and Eve. Then we ascended the principal 
 tower, and looked down upon the statues as upon 
 inhabitants of the earth. Here we were among 
 the gilded stars, with which some of the highest 
 are surmounted. Up, up we went, by a narrow 
 staircase, winding among the open tracery, looking 
 too fragile to support itself, and piercing the air, 
 until the dizzying effect of height is lost in its im- 
 mensity. 
 
 The city lay far, far below us ; the streets were 
 narrow paths; men like ants, and carriages mov- 
 ing dots. Northeast and north the horizon was 
 bounded by the mighty barrier of the Alps, whose 
 snowy heights glistened in the distance ; east, 
 south, and west the eye ranged over a wide and 
 magnificent prospect of plains, villages, and cities ; 
 and over all hung the sky of Italy. What more 
 was wanting ? 
 
 After an hour or two spent high up in the air, 
 we descended to the subterranean spaces. Here
 
 TOMB OF BORROMEO. 137 
 
 we saw the chapel and tomb of San Carlo Bor- 
 romeo, rich with silver and gold and precious 
 stones. Here the saint himself lies in his coffin 
 of rock crystal, mounted with wrought silver, and 
 cased in a silver frame, carved elaborately by one 
 of the first masters of Italy. Here for three cen- 
 turies he has lain. For five francs the silver case 
 is opened, and we are allowed to see the mum- 
 mied lineaments, black and grim, of one who was 
 in life generous and brave and great. Innumera- 
 ble precious stones emeralds, topazes, diamonds, 
 sapphires, and rubies shed their splendor over 
 the ghastliness of death.
 
 138 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 VENICE, September 18. 
 
 WE arrived to-day at Venice. From the 
 balcony of my room I look out upon the 
 peaceful waters. There is a full moon, shining 
 down upon canal and lagoon, tracing with 
 matchless beauty the ship with all her rigging, 
 and the light gondola, beneath the silvery surface. 
 Just opposite I see the Isola San Giorgio, and the 
 sweep of waters over which passed the bridal pomp 
 of the Doge, when the stately Bucentaur bore him 
 to the Lido to wed the Adriatic. On my right 
 stands, on his lofty column, the winged Lion of 
 Saint Mark. Beyond the mouth of the Grand 
 Canal rises in the transfigured air the dome of 
 Santa Maria della Salute. It is now midnight ; 
 and beneath my windows the hum of voices and 
 the tramp of feet are beginning to die away, 
 while the waves of the Adriatic plash gently 
 against the shore, as if the deserted bride had 
 come to seek and win back her too long absent 
 lover. I mourn for thee, Adria. The Northern 
 barbarian has stolen into the place where thy 
 Doges dwelt, in palaces of marble and gold. Thy 
 mourning and thy wooing are in vain. Thy
 
 THEATRE OF LA SCALA. 139 
 
 splendid love is a dream of the past. Well, be- 
 fore I quite lose my senses, let me tell you our 
 various adventures since I wrote last. 
 
 We spent a whole week at Milan, resting, like 
 Hannibal's soldiers, after crossing the Alps. Every 
 day, and often twice or three times a day, I went 
 to the Cathedral, which drew me by a fascina- 
 tion I did not care to resist. I went there morn- 
 ing, noon, and evening ; and listened to the Am- 
 brosian ritual with an interest and a pleasure I 
 never expected to feel in a Catholic service. On 
 Sunday we attended High Mass, and heard the 
 best sermon I have listened to since I left home. 
 It was in Italian, and I lost some portions of it ; 
 but so excellent was the good father's enunciation, 
 that I followed him gen illy with ease. 
 
 Another great pleasi*. ^ has been to read Man- 
 zoni's Promessi Sposi, the scene of which, you 
 know, is laid in Milan and the neighborhood. I 
 used to think it rather a dull book ; but the de- 
 scriptions are so true, and the objects introduced 
 are so interesting, after having seen the things 
 themselves, that I made the work a sort of guide- 
 book. The characters, too, are such as one meets 
 with every day in the streets of Milan. 
 
 You know the great theatre of La Scala is 
 there ; and you know, too, that every musical aspi- 
 rant must pass the ordeal of Milanese criticism be- 
 fore his reputation is established. It so happened 
 that the theatre was reopened for the season on
 
 140 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the last night of our stay there. The opera was 
 H Trovatore. It is a story of a noble infant stolen 
 by a gypsy, who had a grudge against his father ; 
 most unreasonably, since the only injury he had 
 ever done her was merely to cause her to be con- 
 demned to death by burning, for having attempted 
 to practise the evil eye. The old gypsy stole the 
 boy, intending to put him into the fire which she 
 had herself escaped. By mistake she threw her 
 own child into the flames, and did not find it out 
 till he was nearly consumed. Then she resolves 
 to bring up the stolen child as her own, and to 
 seek her revenge in another way. The instinct 
 of noble blood leads the youth to deeds of arms 
 and the chivalrous accomplishments of the Trou- 
 badours. Leonora a noble lady falls in love 
 with him. The Count, the brother of the lost 
 child, falls in love with Leonora. They have sev- 
 eral rencounters. The Count, finding his love 
 despised, forms a plot to carry the lady off. The 
 Troubadour, of course, pops in, just in time to pre- 
 vent its execution ; a duel ; Leonora borne off 
 in triumph by her lover. Meantime, the old gypsy 
 is arrested, and, being questioned, is proved to be 
 the old lady who burnt the baby ; thrown into 
 prison ; condemned a second time to be burnt. 
 Lover and Leonora are just on the point of marry- 
 ing, when the news is brought him of the extreme 
 peril in which his respected mother stands. Away 
 he rushes, saying to the -astonished bride, " I was
 
 IL TROVATORE. 141 
 
 a son before I loved you ; and in spite of your 
 tears, I must go." He calls a band of followers, 
 and runs to the rescue ; is defeated ; is himself 
 cast into prison ; and both mother and son await 
 their execution. Leonora hears what has hap- 
 pened; goes to the Count, and implores him to 
 spare her lover. The Count says, " The more you 
 love him, the more I want to kill him." Leonora, 
 in despair, proposes to give her hand to the 
 Count. The Count, overjoyed, asks " whether 
 he can believe his own ears." Apparently think- 
 ing he can, he turns to give orders for the lover's 
 release. Leonora takes poison behind his back ; 
 goes directly to the prison, and tells her lover he 
 is free. The lover, astonished, looks at her ; sus- 
 pects something; swears she is a traitor. The 
 poison begins to work ; he looks again, sudden- 
 ly catches the idea, and then swears she is an 
 angel, and berates himself for having said such 
 hard things of her. At this moment the Count 
 enters ; and, seeing Leonora dying, exclaims, 
 " What, take poison for him ? Executioner, 
 away with him ! " The executioner obeys. The 
 old gypsy says, " Now I am avenged, he was 
 your brother." The Count exclaims, "And I 
 still live ? " and the curtain drops without any 
 answer whatever to the Count's question. 
 
 I had no idea it would take up so much of my 
 paper to give a sketch of the pathetic plot of this 
 famous opera, which was awaiting the judgment
 
 142 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 of the critics of Milan and my own. We se- 
 cured a box near the stage, so that we might see 
 and hear well. It is a magnificent theatre ; the 
 audience large, discriminating, and tremendously 
 critical. The curtain rose, with immense expec- 
 tation. Some applause, and some hissing. By 
 and by, there was a fine passage so vehemently ap- 
 plauded, that the singer came forward three times 
 to acknowledge it. But as the piece went on, the 
 applause lessened, the hissing increased ; and the 
 curtain dropped before the opera was completed. 
 We came home and consoled ourselves with a 
 broiled chicken and a glass of wine. 
 
 It was curious indeed to witness the rigor with 
 which the Milanese punish the slightest fault, or 
 what they choose to consider such, in any per- 
 former, no matter how eminent ; but to quiet 
 people like ourselves the hissing was an intoler- 
 able nuisance. 
 
 The next morning we set out for Lodi, and vis- 
 ited the bridge where Napoleon made his terrible 
 pass ; then went on to Crema, where we spent 
 the night, in a veritable old-fashioned Italian 
 inn, rooms big and bare as a barn, beds as 
 broad as the plains of Lombardy, and charges as 
 high as the dishonest host could persuade us to 
 pay. 
 
 The next day we went to Brescia, where we 
 saw some fine pictures in a private collection ; 
 others in the churches ; but, most interesting of
 
 VERONA. 143 
 
 all, the remains of an old Roman temple^ with 
 numerous sculptures of Greek workmanship, and 
 a bronze winged Victory, almost perfectly pre- 
 served, and most exquisite. From Brescia we 
 went on, striking the southern end of Lago di 
 Garda, a lovely lake, with finely moulded hills on 
 the north, sloping softly to the south, until they 
 lose themselves in the Lombard and Venetian 
 plains. The weather was perfect, and the pecu- 
 liar haze like a veil of the most delicate and 
 scarcely perceptible pink hung over the dis- 
 tant landscape, under the blue sky, and beyond 
 the blue waters. 
 
 We stopped an hour on the borders of the lake, 
 and then continued our journey. At Peschiera, a 
 strongly fortified town on the confines of Lom- 
 bardy and Venice, we dined on an ancient chick- 
 en, coeval with the Roman temple ; then, turning 
 from the Lago di Garda, took the road for Verona. 
 The country became more picturesque ; the vines 
 were festooned from tree to tree ; we saw the 
 wine-press, and the men treading out the grapes. 
 
 We entered Verona under the light of an Ital- 
 ian sunset, purple, orange, golden, flooding 
 the earth, transfiguring the walls, habitations, and 
 spires of the city, and mantling the hills with a 
 transparent purple mist. We thought of Catul- 
 lus, the first of Roman lyric poets, who was born 
 there ; we thought of Romeo and Juliet, who are 
 buried there ; and we imagined ourselves to be
 
 144 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the " Two Gentlemen of Verona." We lodged in 
 a good hotel, and, being a little fatigued, retired 
 early. We were up early the next morning, and 
 visited the old Roman Amphitheatre, a superb 
 structure- in admirable preservation, where Ves- 
 pasian exhibited a great gladiatorial show in honor 
 of his wife, a Veronese lady. 
 
 As we returned, and I was in the passage to my 
 room, I heard my name suddenly called : and who 
 should it be but Mrs. C ? She has been trav- 
 elling in the North of Italy, with a servant ; hap- 
 pened to stop at the same hotel, and was just leav- 
 ing her room to go to the Amphitheatre, as I was 
 entering mine from it. This accidental meeting 
 
 (Mrs. C recognized my gold spectacles from 
 
 a side view merely) was a most agreeable inci- 
 dent. We had but a moment's conversation, 
 however, and then parted, to meet again next 
 week in Florence. 
 
 At eleven o'clock we took the railway for Ven- 
 ice. The journey was very pleasant, and in three 
 hours the train was thundering over the mag- 
 nificent bridge, two miles and three quarters 
 long, that crosses the Lagoon, and brings you 
 into Venice. We were detained a little while at 
 the station to have our luggage examined ; and 
 then, calling a gondola, were swiftly rowed down 
 the great canal, lined with palaces of historical re- 
 nown, in sight of the Eialto ; then turned into a 
 side canal, swept under the Bridge of Sighs, be-
 
 VENICE BY TWILIGHT. 145 
 
 tween the Ducal Palace and the Prison, out into 
 the water in front of the Piazza San Marco, with 
 the Palace, the Winged Lion, the Basilica, domes, 
 spires, pinnacles, and statues innumerable, seem- 
 ing to fill the air and look down upon us. We 
 passed on by ships and gondolas, and, turning into 
 another canal, were at the steps of Albergo Reale 
 Danaeli, once a palace of the Mocenighi, and now 
 a very splendid establishment. The staircases 
 are wide ; the steps of white marble ; the rooms 
 adorned with pictures and statues ; the ceilings 
 frescoed, and the floors tessellated. A marble 
 bust of Minerva stands in the corner of the room 
 where I am ; and a frescoed angel, in the centre 
 of the ceiling, is kind enough to hold the chande- 
 lier. Nymphs and goddesses, flowers and col- 
 umns, urns and vases, are painted on the walls, 
 and two huge mirrors reflect this goodly company 
 and myself, as I sit here otherwise alone, for 
 my fellow-travellers have gone to bed writing. 
 After dinner we took a gondola, with a couple of 
 gondoliers, to see a little of this marvellous place. 
 Venice is like no other city. It is a gorgeous 
 dream. It is oriental and mediaeval, and alto- 
 gether indescribably wonderful. We were rowed 
 out by the opposite island of Giudecca, through 
 the canal of the same name. The sun had just 
 gone down, and the evening star, scarcely percep- 
 tible in the splendid colors of the west, appeared 
 just above the horizon. The ships, the dome of
 
 146 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 St. Mark, the Winged Lion, the Campanile, were 
 drawn darkly on the golden ground of the sky. 
 Thousands of gondolas were hurrying to and fro. 
 We rowed into the Lagoon ; passing churches on 
 the left, the Carapo di Marte on the right, and 
 the great railroad bridge just before us. The 
 Grand Canal winds through the whole city ; it is 
 the great street, on which the most splendid palaces 
 stand. 
 
 We passed through the entire length of this 
 Grand Canal, and as we emerged into the open 
 waters on the other side of the city, the full moon 
 had just risen, and was illuminating every object 
 in the transcendent scene. Crowds of people were 
 walking in the Piazza San Marco ; the gorgeous 
 oriental front of the Basilica shone wonderfully, 
 with its gilded mosaics ; the marble statues which 
 crowd the upper walls of the Royal Palace stood 
 out in bold relief against the sky ; military music 
 filled the Piazza, and the Venetian songs of the gon- 
 doliers came up from the canals and the Lagoon. 
 
 Later in the, evening, since I have been writing, 
 a barge with twelve lights shot out in front of St. 
 Mark, presenting the appearance of a fiery ser- 
 pent, as the lights waved to and fro with the mo- 
 tion of the boat. It was a society of twelve, who 
 cultivate Venetian music, and sing all the Vene- 
 tian songs. I watched the motion, and listened 
 to the sounds, from my balcony ; and, singularly 
 enough, they rowed at last up to the corner of the
 
 A VENETIAN SERENADE. 147 
 
 canal just below me, and, stopping, sang half a 
 dozen songs. If I had been a beautiful woman of 
 nineteen or twenty, instead of an old Professor 
 whose portrait frightens his friends at home, there 
 would have been something decidedly romantic in 
 this little episode of a midnight serenade in Venice. 
 However, the singing had a most agreeable effect, 
 in the splendid night, with so many objects of un- 
 paralleled interest in sight, under the glorious 
 beauty of a full Venetian moon. At the close I 
 applauded, and the fiery serpent wound his way 
 silently across the Lagoon.
 
 148 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 PADUA, September 20, 1853. 
 
 I PUT a letter in the post-office at Venice 
 this morning, containing a hurried account of 
 our first evening in that city of enchantment. I 
 write now at Padua, having left Venice this after- 
 noon. Yesterday, we took a valet de place, as we 
 had but little time, and traversed the city, in a 
 gondola, in all directions. We visited the prin- 
 cipal churches, where the best pictures of the 
 Venetian school are found ; the Academy of the 
 Fine Arts, the glory of which is Titian's Assump- 
 tion, and the Palazzo Manfrini, containing the 
 finest private collection of pictures, by Raffaelle, 
 Correggio, Caracci, Guido Reni, Bambi, Pietro 
 Perugino, Carlo Dolce, and other old masters, in 
 all Venice. This is a noble palace, and its owner, 
 one of the most eminent patricians here, throws it 
 open twice a week to the public. It so happened 
 that we could not stay in Venice for the regular 
 day, and I was obliged to do what I have done 
 before, to send in my card, and ask permission 
 to see the collection. ' Otherwise I must have left 
 Venice without seeing some of the best pictures 
 in the world. So I sent my card, as " Professore
 
 THE PALACE OF THE DOGES. 149 
 
 della Letteratura Greca nelT Universita di Cam- 
 bridge, America," explaining that I was under 
 the necessity of leaving Venice the next day. 
 We were most courteously admitted, and saw at 
 our leisure, uninterrupted by a crowd of visitors, 
 the precious treasures, all the rooms being most 
 kindly thrown open to our inspection. I have 
 enjoyed nothing more entirely since I left home, 
 than the quiet hours spent among the master- 
 works collected in this splendid palace. We 
 went afterward to another remarkable coUection 
 of Tintoretto's masterpieces, then to the Ducal 
 Palace. 
 
 The most gorgeous scenes of modern history 
 cluster around this magnificent residence of the 
 Doges. We saw under the roof those most cruel 
 prison-cells, the close and stifling rooms called the 
 Piombi, or leads ; below, the Doge's residence, the 
 Senate-chamber, the rooms of the Council of Ten 
 and the Secret Council of Three, with secret stair- 
 cases, by which prisoners were brought for ex- 
 amination by tortures ; still lower, the dungeons 
 in which state-prisoners were confined, small, 
 dark, dismal, with just a ray of light from a passage 
 shut in by stone-walls of amazing thickness. Here 
 was the place of execution, whenever reasons of 
 state forbade the public display. Here was the 
 narrow door through which the strangled body 
 was taken, placed on a boat, and borne away to 
 a little burying-ground for criminals. Here still
 
 150 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 stand the frames of the beds on which they lay. 
 We went through these dark passages, and into 
 these narrow and hopeless cells, with a guide and 
 a candle ; and the imagination of Dante himself 
 could scarcely picture a more infernal scene. 
 
 From these dungeons we passed over the 
 " Bridge of Sighs," which crosses a canal to an- 
 other gloomy-looking structure, still used, as it 
 was in the days of the Republic, for a prison. 
 The bridge is covered and dark, with apertures 
 cut through the stone- walls at the sides. I was 
 not sorry when we emerged from these horrible 
 places, horrible in themselves, and still more so 
 from the frightful deeds which history has asso- 
 ciated with them. You cannot imagine a more 
 tremendous contrast than they present to the gay 
 and splendid outer world of Venice. All we read 
 of heaven and hell gives but a feeble idea com- 
 pared with the feeling we experience in coming 
 out of these terrible places and ghastly memories, 
 into the cheerful light and busy life and gorgeous 
 art that crowd the Piazza of San Marco. 
 
 The last place we visited was the church of San 
 Marco. Here all the treasures of the East and 
 the West are concentrated. The floor, covering 
 
 7 O 
 
 acres, is of tessellated marbles and lapis-lazuli ; the 
 walls and ceilings, both of the exterior arcades and 
 the interior, are entirely covered with mosaics, on 
 a golden ground, representing an endless diversity 
 of subjects ; columns brought from the^ Holy Land
 
 THE CHURCH OF SAN MARCO. 151 
 
 and from Greece, and statues captured from sub- 
 jugated nations, are built into this amazing struc- 
 ture. Over the entrance stand the four bronze 
 horses, carried from Rome by one of the emper- 
 ors of Constantinople ; brought from Constanti- 
 nople by one of the Venetian Doges ; captured 
 and taken to Paris by Napoleon ; restored to Ven- 
 ice at the peace of 1815, and now likely to deco- 
 rate St. Mark's until Venice sinks into the sea. 
 Under the great altar is enshrined the heart of 
 St. Mark (I did nojt see the heart, but I saw the 
 shrine, and was assured that it contained the 
 heart), the patron saint of the Republic. The 
 most extraordinary thing, however, is the present 
 condition of the floor. Venice, you know, is built 
 on piles. These have settled in some places, par- 
 ticularly under the foundation of St. Mark's. You 
 seem to be walking over petrified waves of many 
 colors. In some places the pavement is more than 
 a foot higher than in others, and you must step 
 carefully, or you will fall. A sensitive person 
 might be made sea-sick by these undulations of 
 form and color. 
 
 I was bewildered by this extraordinary assem- 
 blage of ages, styles, countries, and materials. 
 It was like a dream, in which the mind passes 
 through time and space with inconceivable ra- 
 pidity. On my first visit, I did not attempt to 
 form a clear conception of so heterogeneous 
 though not inharmonious a combination of di-
 
 152 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 verse objects. I allowed them to make their own 
 impressions, and left the impressions to be arranged 
 and cleared up by subsequent visits. 
 
 In the evening we went out again on the La- 
 goon. It was a still and splendid repetition of 
 the Venetian sunset we had already seen, a 
 phenomenon of Italian nature which justifies and 
 explains the coloring of Titian.
 
 THE BOTANICAL GARDEN OF PADUA. 153 
 
 xvn. 
 
 MODENA, September 24, 1853. 
 
 ON Wednesday afternoon, having completed 
 the time we had allowed ourselves for Ven- 
 ice, we came by railway as far as learned Padua, 
 the birthplace of Livy, the seat of a great Uni- 
 versity, and the place where Portia, in " The Mer- 
 chant of Venice," pretended to have studied the 
 law. We had a couple of hours before evening to 
 go round and see so renowned a city, and then the 
 fancy struck us to complete the tour by the even- 
 ing light. We first yisited the famous church of 
 San Antonio, full of splendid bronzes, sculptures, 
 and paintings. Then we went to the Botanical 
 Garden, one of the best in Europe, and I cannot 
 describe to you the delicious impression the ob- 
 jects of Nature made upon me, after having dwelt 
 among the creations of art alone. The Garden is 
 admirably laid out and well kept, and is a charming 
 assemblage of odoriferous plants, from every clime, 
 superb trees, forest and fruit, and flowers of ex- 
 quisite colors. The pine rose green and erect ; 
 the fir, the elm, the oak, the nut tree lifted their 
 verdurous branches up into the golden sky of sum- 
 mer, while fountains played their pleasant music 
 7*
 
 154 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 and filled the air with coolness. It was another 
 Italian evening, and the domes and campaniles of 
 the city shone in the glorious hues of the hour. 
 The Garden is in the city, and these fair objects 
 are all around it. 
 
 Here I saw the palm-tree which Goethe studied 
 so carefully, and which, by suggesting to him the 
 first idea of his theory of the metamorphosis of 
 plants, has become illustrious in the history of 
 science. I stood long before this beautiful tree, 
 and fancied it was not unconscious of the interest 
 and admiration it excited. 
 
 My admiration of Goethe's genius has grown 
 upon me almost daily here. I have found his 
 descriptions of the Alps no less precise than poet- 
 ical. His science gives accuracy to his poetry, 
 and his poetical spirit gives glow and animation 
 to his science. His letters on Italy are incom- 
 parably better than anything else I have read 
 on the same topics ; not entering much into de- 
 tails, but extracting the finest essence and aroma 
 of this classic land. 
 
 From the Botanical Garden we went to the pal- 
 ace of a Paduan nobleman, and saw by candle- 
 light his splendid saloons, and curious works of 
 art ; among the rest, a group of sculpture wrought 
 from a single piece of marble, and consisting of 
 sixty-six figures, representing the last judgment 
 of the wicked. 
 
 Next we visited the great hall, one of the largest
 
 THE TOMB OF ANTENOR. 155 
 
 in the world, where are the bust of Livy, an un- 
 doubted antique, a statue of him by some modern 
 sculptor, his tomb, which they say contains his 
 ashes, and a big wooden horse, as large as the 
 horse of Troy, formerly dragged through the city 
 on festivals. The walls are decorated with fres- 
 cos, which, however, we saw imperfectly by the 
 candle-light. 
 
 We then took our way to a famous caf, built 
 of marble, partly of an ancient temple, where we 
 took ices (the Italian ices are the best in the 
 world) and listened to the performances of a min- 
 strel young, pretty, and modest -looking on 
 the guitar. I was desirous to hear a song or two, 
 (naturally, you know, having such musical friends,) 
 and, approaching, I asked her in choice Italian if 
 she would not sing. She nodded, and in a mo- 
 ment struck into a song that rolled through the 
 marble halls, and made the chatting crowds of 
 loungers hold their tongues, and listen in rapt at- 
 tention. She went on from song to song it was 
 in an open piazza for half an hour ; when, drop- 
 ping a piece of silver on the table where she stood, 
 we walked away and returned to our lodgings ; 
 passing by the tomb of Antenor (uncle of the 
 pious JEneas of Virgil), the founder of the city. 
 There is no doubt his bones are there, (though it is 
 very doubtful if he ever lived,) for the guides as- 
 sure you they were found near an ancient church. 
 Early in the morning we visited an old Roman
 
 156 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 arena, and the chapel of Giotto, the interior of 
 which is wholly covered with frescos of his paint- 
 ing, and at half past seven took the railway for 
 Vicenza. 
 
 Our object in stopping at Vicenza was chiefly 
 to see the great works in architecture of Palladio, 
 who was born and died here. They are in a bad 
 condition, generally. The house he built for him- 
 self is the dirtiest spot in Italy. We ascended the 
 staircase, but were glad to get back again into 
 the street. One old palace of his building has a 
 fine front, but the interior shows marks of decay 
 and ruin. A splendid old picture of Paul Ve- 
 ronese is fast fading from the neglected wall. 
 Palladio built a theatre, on the plan of the ancient 
 Grecian. Here my expectations were more than 
 gratified. It is a beautiful structure, adorned with 
 sculptures, and in all respects a classical edifice. 
 In 1846 they played the (Edipus of Sophocles here 
 in an Italian translation, before the Scientific Asso- 
 ciation, who were invited from Venice to see it, 
 and a brilliant assemblage of Italian beauty. I 
 spent a delightful hour or two in studying the plan 
 of this theatre, and reading the translation of 
 Sophocles, a copy of which I bought there. 
 
 We took a carriage and drove to the cemetery, 
 where is the superb monument of Palladio, and 
 many others, with beautiful sculptures by the 
 finest artists in Italy. Next we went to a villa 
 in the neighborhood of the city, also built by
 
 MANTUA. 157 
 
 Palladio, and then took the railway for Verona. 
 Our object in stopping here again was to visit 
 some of the churches, and the tomb of the gentle 
 Juliet. We took a carriage at the station, and drove 
 about. The most curious monument here is the 
 tomb of the Scaligeri, the ancient rulers of this fa- 
 mous city, who, not content with setting themselves 
 over the city during their lifetime, built these lofty 
 mausoleums, and had their bodies placed in elabo- 
 rate marble coffins, high up in the open air, where 
 they have lain for many centuries. The Cathe- 
 dral has some works of art of great merit. As to 
 the tomb of Juliet, it is a stone trough, once used 
 as a washing-tub, in a very dirty building of one 
 of the wings of an old convent, and in the very 
 outskirts of the city. I could not help laughing 
 at such a burlesque of sentiment. There is not 
 the least evidence that this old tub was ever seen 
 by Juliet ; and yet scarcely a day passes that it is 
 not visited by pious strangers, who ring for ad- 
 mission, sigh over its brim, pay their zwanziger 
 and walk away, feeling that they have only per- 
 formed their duty to romance and Shakespeare. 
 
 That duty religiously over, we again took the 
 railway for Mantua, the birthplace of Virgil, 
 where we arrived early in the evening, thinking all 
 the time of Bucolies, Georgics, and JEneids. But 
 Mantua is a low, swampy, unhealthy place, an 
 excellent place to emigrate from. I applauded 
 Virgil's good sensejn packing up his trunk and
 
 158 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 going to Rome ; and we determined to imitate his 
 illustrious example. So, early in the morning, we 
 set off in our carriage, and, taking a hasty glance 
 over the place, drove out of its southern gate, and 
 pursued our way toward Modena. But here I 
 must pause, as we are just going over to the pal- 
 ace of the Duke.
 
 THE BUCKET OF MODENA. 159 
 
 xvm. 
 
 BOLOGNA, September 24. 
 
 AT Modena we went to the palace of the 
 Duke, and a very nice palace it is, as the 
 Englishman says. One could manage to live in 
 it with tolerable comfort. It is not so stately nor 
 so gorgeous as many palaces we have seen ; but it 
 has some fine pictures and beautiful statuary, and 
 is a much more cheerful -looking establishment 
 than palaces usually are. 
 
 From the palace we went to the famous old 
 cathedral, much admired by some, but possessing 
 in my eyes neither beauty nor taste; and as to 
 the pictures, I did not see one that I would give 
 a sixpence for. 
 
 But the Campanile has an interesting associa- 
 tion with literary history. If you look into the 
 book of the Poets of Europe under the head of 
 Italian Poets you will find, I think, some pas- 
 sages from the poem of Trissino called the " Sec- 
 chia Rapita," or the Rape of the Bucket. In a 
 war between Modena and Bologna, the forces 
 of the former seized an old bucket in Bologna, 
 and bore it off in triumph. This stupendous 
 event occurred in 1225, about a year after the
 
 160 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 great Campanile was built. Twenty or thirty 
 steps up from the foundation of this there is a 
 dungeon-like room, approached by heavy iron 
 doors, three in number, and three iron keys of 
 ponderous size unlock them, and a mighty bolt, be- 
 sides the lock, is drawn outside the door. From 
 the centre of this room hangs, suspended by an 
 iron chain, and has hung for six hundred and 
 twenty-eight years the 15th of November, that 
 same old, iron-bound bucket, that once hung over 
 a public fountain in Bologna. The chain passes 
 through a ring in the ceiling, and is attached by a 
 padlock to a staple in the wall, the key of which is 
 kept by the Podesta of the city. 
 
 L and I got a sight of this old bucket, 
 
 for two zwanzigers, about thirty-six cents, one 
 paid to a man for giving notice at the seat of gov- 
 ernment, that certain signers from foreign parts de- 
 sired to see the bucket, and the other paid to the of- 
 ficial gentleman who in due form brought the keys 
 and opened the three locks. I could just reach the 
 bottom of the bucket, as it hung from the ceiling, 
 by standing on tiptoe. I punched it with a pa- 
 per-cutter I happened to have in my pocket, and 
 found it so decayed that the ivory blade passed 
 quite through at the side. There it has hung, as 
 I have said, for more than six centuries : 
 
 " E non & cavalier, che di Ik passi, 
 Ne pellegrin di conto, il qual non voglia 
 Veder si dcgna e gloriosa spoglia."
 
 THE CONVENT OF SAN LAZARO. 161 
 
 There is no cavalier who that way passes, 
 Nor wanderer of note, who doth not wish 
 To see such noble and illustrious spoils. 
 
 Nota lene, I punched the bucket with an ivory 
 paper-knife at ten o'clock in the morning of 
 September 24, 1853. I am thus particular, be- 
 caiise Trissino tells us that it was hung up there 
 at three o'clock at night, after Manfredi, the 
 clergy, and Monsignore had made a long prayer 
 to the saint, that is, Saint Geminianus, the patron 
 of Modena. 
 
 This poem is famous in Italian literature, and 
 has had no little influence on the English. The 
 title of Pope's " Rape of the Lock " was borrowed 
 from it. 
 
 We resumed our journey and reached this city 
 of sausages about three o'clock. The country 
 about it is more varied and cultivated than is usual 
 in the North of Italy ; and the heights of the Ap- 
 ennines, in sight nearly all the way from Modena, 
 relieved the monotony. We have seen but little 
 here, except long chains of sausages at the shop 
 windows. It is said no dog dares show his face 
 in Bologna. We met a very small puppy in the 
 streets, but he was not yet sufficiently grown to 
 be profitable. We shall probably start to-mor- 
 row morning for Florence. 
 
 Let me now go back to dreamy Venice. The 
 last day we were there, I took a gondola and was 
 rowed over the Lagoon to the island of San La-
 
 162 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 zaro, to visit the Armenian Convent. It was an- 
 other of those perfect Venetian days, seen only 
 here and in the pictures of Titian. A soft breeze, 
 just enough to stir the air, flitted over the water, 
 along the surface of which it gently moved, not 
 breaking, but just bending the glassy expanse. I 
 could not help feeling all the luxury of the time, 
 the place, and the motion, as I reclined on the 
 cushioned seats of the gliding bark, and surveyed 
 the magical scene around me, and the glorious sky 
 above. The gondola shot past the entrance of 
 the arsenal, near which are two marble lions, 
 brought by one of the Doges from Athens, no- 
 ble sculptures, belonging to the best days of Athe- 
 nian art, and now decorating an Austrian garrison. 
 When we were fairly out of hearing from the 
 shore, I entered into conversation with the gondo- 
 liers. They spoke in whispers, though we were a 
 mile at least from any human being; but what 
 they said showed the wretched condition of the 
 people, whom they described as miserably poor. 
 " In former times," said the eldest of the two, 
 " Venice was rich and powerful. The commerce 
 of the world came here, when Doges ruled. Gold 
 was abundant, and every man had enough. But 
 now there is no commerce. We are under Aus- 
 tria, and have no liberty. We are poor and mis- 
 erable. Men like me earn but two zwanzigers a 
 day, and the prices of provisions are high. Some- 
 times I receive a buona memo (present) from gen-
 
 THE ARMENIAN MONKS. 163 
 
 tlemen who employ me ; but my wages are only 
 two zwanzigers a day." 
 
 As we passed by an island on which the hos- 
 pital stands, the younger gondolier stooped down 
 and whispered : " I was in that hospital three 
 months. In the revolution of 1848 I received a 
 musket-ball in my shoulder, and was sent over 
 here to be cured." 
 
 They knew I was American, or they would not 
 have dared, even on the water, to speak of such 
 things, so rigid is the Austrian police. 
 
 About three quarters of an hour brought me to 
 the landing of the Armenian Convent. You re- 
 member what Byron says of this community. I 
 was most kindly received by one of the monks, 
 who took me over the whole establishment, showed 
 me the manuscripts, the library, the printing-office, 
 the garden, and gave me ample information on 
 their language, history, literature, and religion, 
 much of it very curious, and to me entirely new. 
 Their language has no relation, as a language, 
 with either the Greek or the Latin ; but it has 
 this singular connection with the former, that 
 translations of some of the Greek writers exist in 
 the Armenian, while the originals have been lost 
 since the translations were made. These have been 
 published by the good monks, with retranslations. 
 Their ritual dates as early as the fourth century, 
 near which time their nation was converted to the 
 Christian faith. It is, therefore, one of the oldest
 
 164 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 in the Christian world, and their translation of the 
 Scriptures is very ancient, much older than the 
 earliest entire translation in the Latin. At my 
 request, my excellent guide repeated the Pater 
 Noster in the Armenian, to give me a specimen 
 of the language. It sounded soft and harmonious. 
 Politically they are under the Turkish govern- 
 ment, having no connection with Venice or Aus- 
 tria; and their relations are almost wholly with 
 the East. 
 
 I examined the books they have translated or 
 written and printed there. They make a consid- 
 erable library. They have translated Homer, 
 , Virgil, and other ancient writers, and some mod- 
 ern ones. I bought a grammar, a collection of 
 popular songs (with a literal English version), and 
 a copy of the ritual, as memorials of the visit ; and 
 after a forenoon spent in a quiet, but most inter- 
 esting and instructive manner, in this retreat of 
 
 O * 
 
 Oriental learning and antique piety, I came away. 
 
 I should have mentioned that I saw in their 
 chapel a singular painting of the Virgin, by a con- 
 verted Turk, the only Turkish picture I ever 
 heard of. It has a very peculiar, pensive beauty, 
 wholly unlike any Italian Madonna of any school. 
 A Turk's conception of such a Christian subject 
 may, I think, be put down among the curiosities 
 of art. 
 
 Returning, I went to the Royal Library, in the 
 Ducal Palace, to see a famous copy of Homer,
 
 LAST VIEW OF VENICE. 165 
 
 the whole Iliad on parchment, and dating in the 
 tenth or eleventh century. It is very beautiful, 
 and one of the most important manuscripts in the 
 world. Some of the leaves are illustrated, there 
 is a picture of Helen, of Achilles, and so on ; but 
 they are in the worst style of Byzantine art, 
 clothed in Byzantine costumes, which are anything 
 but heroic. Achilles looks like a dunce, and 
 Helen has none of those charms 
 
 " For nine long years that kept the world in arms." 
 
 I went through every part of St. Mark's Church 
 again ; and, lastly, ascended the great tower, to 
 combine all I had seen into a single, general view, 
 and I can tell you I never saw such a sight. To 
 look down on the domes and palaces of Venice, 
 to let the eye rove over the Lagoon, the islands, 
 the Lido, and the distant Adriatic, to take in the 
 villages, plains, cities north, west, and south 
 in one magnificent panorama, lighted by the sun 
 of Italy, is enough to make an epoch in one's 
 life. 
 
 I do not find that I get exhausted with the in- 
 teresting objects I see almost every day ; on the 
 contrary, I need the twenty-four hours of every 
 day to see them and reflect on what I have seen. 
 Then comes the evil necessity of eating and sleep- 
 ing, to waste these precious moments. It is now 
 growing late, and we shall start early, so I must 
 say good night.
 
 166 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 FLORENCE, October 1, 1853. 
 
 MY last letter was written all along the way, 
 and posted immediately on my arrival in 
 Florence. I trust it is safely on its way to Eng- 
 land, and will reach you in good time. 
 
 From Bologna we commenced our journey over 
 the Apennines. The mountains looked friendly, 
 and the mountain air was refreshing ; but the Ap- 
 ennines do not, in the smallest degree, compare 
 with the Alps. Their shapes are pleasing, and the 
 valleys, green and well cultivated almost to the 
 highest points, are beautiful. 
 
 " I took a long walk, as I had so often done in 
 the Alps. I was alone, and enjoyed greatly the 
 quiet of the scene and hour. The weather was 
 delicious. On the summit the views were exten- 
 sive in all directions, and charming. I lay down 
 on the grass, and rested in the shade, until the 
 carriage, reinforced by a yoke of oxen, came up. 
 
 As I lay, meditating and looking up into the 
 deep sky, a young Italian, who had been gather- 
 ing grapes from a sunny slope just opposite, came 
 up and gave me a large bunch, apologizing for 
 their inferior quality, as they grew at such a
 
 STORM ON THE APENNINES. 167 
 
 height. He was as inquisitive as a Yankee, and 
 I answered all his questions. He seemed aston- 
 ished at my having come such a measureless dis- 
 tance to see Italy. In turn I questioned him ; but 
 his ideas were limited to the farms of the Apen- 
 nines, with some notion of the distant city of 
 Bologna, at least fifteen miles off. The toiling 
 oxen at length came in sight, and I resumed my 
 place in the carriage. 
 
 We passed the night in a village that we reached 
 in the afternoon. The inn where we stayed was 
 an old-fashioned Italian locdnda, rude in the 
 last degree. The rooms had no locks, and only 
 
 one had a latch. G attempted to drive a 
 
 nail in the wall, to fasten his door with a string ; 
 but he broke off a foot or two of the wall, which 
 was nothing but plaster. The beds were so high, 
 that I had to climb into mine over a chair. They 
 were hard and ridgy like the Apennines, and 
 peopled with a wild population of chamois, com- 
 monly called fleas. From these enemies of the 
 human race I have not suffered ; they do not like 
 me, they have no taste for Greek Professors. 
 
 We set out early in the morning, having no 
 great temptation to lie late in bed. It had rained 
 heavily in the night, and the storm cdntinued 
 through the forenoon, at times coming down with 
 great violence ; and it was a pretty wild scene, 
 among the Apennines, one I was glad to wit- 
 ness. But early in the afternoon, as we ap-
 
 168 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 preached the descent into Tuscany, the weather 
 cleared away, the sun broke out, and opened 
 a prospect of marvellous beauty. 
 
 For the last dozen miles before entering Flor- 
 ence, the road passes through a region diversified 
 by hills whose slopes are covered with trailing 
 vines, and dotted with white villas. This contin- 
 ues until the Val d' Arno, in which Florence lies 
 embosomed, comes in sight. The whole view 
 makes a very agreeable impression ; and you enter 
 the city having passed the custom-house and 
 surrendered your passport with the expectation 
 of finding everything to please the eye and gratify 
 the taste. 
 
 The custom-house officer said it was necessary 
 to open our luggage. "Absolutely necessary?" 
 I asked. " Yes, sir, absolutely." The courier 
 was ordered to see what virtue there was in zwan-^ 
 zigers (about eighteen cents each), and we found 
 that the absolute necessity of examining our lug- 
 gage, to make sure that we had no prohibited 
 articles, and no instruments for the overthrow 
 of the Grand Duke's government, was measured 
 by exactly two of these silver pieces. Having 
 received these, the gentleman in the cocked hat 
 and sword made a comprehensive survey by put- 
 ting; his head into the window and taking it out 
 
 o . o 
 
 again, then nodded to the vetturino that all was 
 right, and on we drove to the Albergo Reale di 
 Gran Brettagna, on the Lung' Arno.
 
 THE PALAZZO DEI UFFIZI. 169 
 
 Well, Florence is a beautiful city. It contains 
 the Medicean Venus, "the statue that enchants 
 the world " ; the Madonna della Seggiola of Raf- 
 faelle ; some of the principal works of Michael 
 Angelo ; the Campanile of Giotto ; Titian's Ve- 
 .nuses ; the monuments, in Santa Croce, of Dante, 
 Alfieri, Galileo, Filicalia ; streets, arcades, and 
 bridges bordered with exquisite statues ; and the 
 Baptistery, with the bronze gates, which Michael 
 Angelo said were worthy to be the gates of Para- 
 dise. 
 
 I shall not have time to give you an account 
 of all I have seen ; but I have visited the principal 
 objects, and have sat hours and hours in the Tri- 
 bune, the apartment in the Palazzo dei Uffizi 
 which contains the Venus de' Medici, the Apollino, 
 a selection of Raffaelle's pictures, two Venuses of 
 Titian, and masterpieces by several other artists. 
 The room is beautifully lighted, and the first time 
 I entered it the sunlight was falling over the left 
 shoulder of Venus, and illuminating her face as 
 she looked towards it. There are in other rooms 
 numerous antiques of the highest order of beauty ; 
 foremost among them Niobe and her children, in a 
 large saloon specially arranged for this unequalled 
 group. 
 
 I found the heads of the principal philosophers 
 
 and poets of Greece and Rome. The one which 
 
 struck me most singularly was that of Socrates. 
 
 I could not doubt that it was a perfect portrait, 
 
 8
 
 170 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 although in expression, and in some of the details 
 of the features, it differed from several others I 
 had seen. 
 
 The gallery of the Pitti Palace the residence 
 of the Grand Duke is one of the most admira- 
 ble in the world. It contains, with many other 
 remarkable pictures, the Madonna della Seggiola, 
 which, for sweetness and beauty of expression, 
 seems to me to transcend all other pictures I have 
 seen, and for softness and harmony of coloring to 
 go beyond all human pow r ers of execution. The 
 first sight of it makes an epock in one's life. 
 
 You have heard of the portrait of Dante, in a 
 fresco picture, discovered some years ago by our 
 countryman, Mr. Wilde. I have been to see it. 
 It is on the walls of an old chapel, in a building 
 once occupied, by the PodestEi, of Florence, and 
 now a prison. The interior was painted by Giotto, 
 the friend of Dante ; but in the course of time the 
 chapel fell into neglect, and the pictures were cov- 
 ered with a coating of whitewash, or paint. Since 
 Mr. Wilde's discovery, several others have been 
 brought to light. The portrait represents Dante 
 at the age of thirty-six. It is a most interesting 
 monument of the past. 
 
 The house of Michael Angelo is still kept up. 
 The present occupant is the Conte di Buonarotti, a 
 lineal descendant of the great artist, and a most 
 estimable man. He is the Grand Duke's Minister 
 of Public Instruction. The house has never been
 
 THE HOUSE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. 171 
 
 out of the family. I visited it, and saw the chairs, 
 tables, sword, and numerous other relics of Michael 
 Angelo, which are preserved with precious care. 
 There are pen-and-ink drawings, paintings, and 
 sculptures of his, just as he left them, and all char- 
 acteristic of his stupendous genius.
 
 172 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XX. 
 
 ROME, October 6, 1853. 
 
 I HAVE been two days in Rome. G and 
 I left Florence in a diligence, last Monday (it 
 is now Thursday), having placed the rest of our 
 troupe in the Casa Guidi with the s. 
 
 The last day of the very interesting week I 
 stayed in Florence, I took a carriage and drove all 
 around the city to get a general view of the whole, 
 having already visited the most interesting places 
 in detail. I drove to see the house where Ben- 
 venuto Cellini was born ; that where Alfieri lived, 
 and other houses connected with the illustrious men 
 who have made the name of Florence immortal. 
 I drove by Greenough's former studio, now 
 changing, in the hands of an Englishman, into a 
 dwelling-house. Its tasteful structure was charac- 
 teristic of the genius of its former tenant, and gave 
 me a sad pleasure as I gazed upon it, and thought 
 of the warm heart that once beat there, and the 
 busy brain that once toiled there, now in the 
 silence and darkness of death. 
 
 I looked at the ancient palaces with the feeling, 
 incessantly forced upon one in these old European 
 cities, of the shadowy, evanescent life of man, and
 
 NIGHT JOURNEY OVER THE APENNINES. 173 
 
 of the wonders he yet leaves behind him, when 
 God has bretthed into him the breath of genius. 
 These statues, works of Cellini and Angelo ; the 
 pictures in yonder palaces, the loveliest creations 
 of Raffaelle, Titian, Perugino, what a wonderful 
 sense of the greatness of the human mind they in- 
 spire ! 
 
 We were up early on our way to Rome, by Si- 
 enna. From Florence we went to this latter city 
 by a railway, which gave us time to drive through 
 Sienna, and visit the Cathedral and the Academy 
 of the Fine Arts. The Cathedral has some splen- 
 did works, and the Academy some paintings, in- 
 teresting in the history of art, but not otherwise 
 of much merit. Having accomplished thus much 
 of sight-seeing, we took our places in the diligence 
 and were fairly off for Rome. 
 
 The excessive heats of summer have laid nearly 
 all Italy bare ; and I am not sorry to see the 
 beautiful undulations of its surface without the 
 drapery which clothes them in spring and early 
 summer. The road, for a considerable part of the 
 way, was rough and over mountains ; but there 
 was not a mile that was not gratifying to the sight, 
 or to the imagination, or to the memory. 
 
 All night we travelled, stopping only to sup at 
 a little inn among the Apennines, where we ate 
 everything the house contained, except the butter, 
 which was too strong for us. A journey over the 
 rough roads of Central Italy is not exactly favor-
 
 174 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 able to sleep. Some of my companions closed 
 their eyes and pretended to doze. I did the same ; 
 but the jolting vehicle made all such pretences 
 hypocrisy, and killed every little nap before it had 
 time to seal up the weary eyes. Slowly the night 
 wore away; the silence interrupted only by the 
 demands of the postboys at the changing of the 
 horses for qualche c6sa per il postiglidne, which 
 they have no right to ask, and we no power to 
 refuse* 
 
 By and by the east began to light up ; the rosy 
 fingers of Aurora pointed the way for the chariot 
 of the sun (pardon this bit of Homeric descrip- 
 tion), and the drowsy travellers rubbed their eyes 
 and pretended to awake, first my Bohemian 
 neighbor, next a blue-eyed Roman lady, my vis-d- 
 vis, and at last a Neapolitan gentleman, who sat 
 
 by her side. G was in another part of the 
 
 diligence called the banquette, a kind of chaise 
 perched on the top of the whole establishment. 
 
 The lady took a bottle of wine out of a little 
 bag, drank herself, and offered some to me, which 
 I declined. The gentleman took a cold chicken 
 out of another bag, which he did not offer to share 
 with anybody, and which, therefore, nobody de- 
 clined. The Bohemian took some peaches out of 
 an unfathomable pocket, and gave me one. The 
 lady then handed about some little cakes of choc- 
 olate, which we ate, supplying in fancy the cream 
 and' hot water. Bits of brown bread and thin
 
 FIRST VIEW OF ROME. 175 
 
 slices of Bologna sausage came next, whence I 
 could not exactly comprehend ; so that, by the 
 time the sun was up, we were in good condition 
 and en grande toilette for the day. At meal times 
 the passengers from all departments of the dili- 
 gence i. e. the banquette, the coupS, the in- 
 terior met on common ground, and had a good 
 deal of amusement. So we got on very sociably 
 together, and by and by, as if by common con- 
 sent, all other topics were lost in the absorbing 
 thought that here we were, just coming in sight 
 of Rome. 
 
 The bare and desolate mountains, the Lake of 
 Bolsena, on whose shores the malaria allows no 
 human being to live ; the autumn-tinted foliage on 
 the few trees we saw here and there ; the out- 
 spread plains ; the Campagna di Roma, which be- 
 gan to come in sight ; the great Roman oxen, just 
 like those which Cincinnatus drove ; the distant 
 and scarcely visible blue line of the Mediterranean 
 Sea, prepared the mind gradually, by their va- 
 rious and melancholy beauty, for the sight of " the 
 Niobe of Nations." 
 
 At four o'clock, the westering sun pouring 
 a flood of golden light over the earth, and the 
 bounding hills veiled in a delicate mist, the 
 dome of St. Peter's rose, gigantic and sublime, 
 into the silent air, and the palaces, spires; obelisks 
 of Rome, one after another, stood out against the 
 sky. Yonder is the Quirinal Mount, and the pal-
 
 176 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ace of the Pope. Near it stand the colossal mar- 
 ble horses, with the great forms of Castor and 
 Pollux subduing their impetuous strength, the 
 work of Praxiteles and Phidias. There is Tra- 
 jan's Column, with the history of his victories 
 winding round it, to the summit. Yonder dark 
 line, filling the southern horizon, is the outer wall 
 of the Colosseum. Nearer stands the Capitol, sur- 
 rounded by the Senator's Palace and colossal 
 equestrian statues. On the other side, sweeping 
 down the opposite slope, are the columns, walls, 
 and bases of the temples and palaces which sur- 
 rounded the ancient Roman Forum ; the Arch 
 of Septimus Severus ; the Column of Phocas ; the 
 Temple of Saturn: there winds the sacred way, 
 over which Horace walked ; on yonder height are 
 the ruins of the Palace of the CaBsars ; and here is 
 the spot where Cicero addressed the Roman peo- 
 ple, while Rome was yet free. 
 
 The first hour after th"e sight of Rome greets 
 you is perhaps the most memorable in the life of 
 an educated man. It is impossible to describe it ; 
 it is impossible to convey an idea of the beauty 
 of the picture Rome presents, seated on her seven 
 hills, and surrounded by the exquisite mountain 
 ranges of Soracte, Albano, and the Apennines on 
 one side, and the broad plain and the distant sea 
 on the other. 
 
 Goethe truly remarks, that Rome is the centre 
 of the history of the world ; that if we study his-
 
 EOME. 177 
 
 tory anywhere else, it is from without, inward ; if 
 we are at Rome, we look out from within. 
 
 It is indeed so. But after all, when one has 
 lost a night's sleep, Universal History, Rome, the 
 Forum, Caesar, Cicero, give place to the claims of 
 the drowsy god. I went to bed, and tried to 
 read ; but, my eyes closing with a snap, and abso- 
 lutely refusing to open, I blew out my candle, and 
 slept as soundly as the Scipios at the Ostian gate, 
 without a dream of Christian or Pagan, ancient 
 or modern, Rome ; oblivious of Pope, Cardinal, 
 Jupiter, Apollo, the Muses, the Colosseum, and the 
 Vatican ; until the morning light, peeping into my 
 windows, and through my bed-curtains, told me that 
 it was time to get up, and that I was indeed in the 
 centre of the civilized world, and in the very heart 
 of History. How brightly the sun shone over this 
 great "city of the soul"! How gloriously rises 
 the dome of St. Peter's ! How the Egyptian obe- 
 lisks pierce the air and point to the sky ! What 
 did I do on these two glorious days ? Be patient, 
 and you shall hear. Love to all. I shall write 
 soon to L . 
 
 8*
 
 178 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 ON BOARD THE BOSPHORUS, October 14, 1853. 
 
 ONCE more I am at sea. I mailed a letter 
 for you yesterday* at Naples ; and imme- 
 diately afterward G and I embarked on board 
 
 the French steamer, for Constantinople. It adds 
 but a few days to our intended voyage, and the 
 present moment is one of profound interest in the 
 East. The probability seems to be that war will 
 soon break out between . Turkey and Russia, and 
 this may be the last year of Turkish sovereignty 
 over the ancient Byzantium. We shah 1 remain 
 there but a few days, and then return to Athens, 
 
 where G will stay about ten days, and I shall 
 
 establish myself for the winter. We left the Con- 
 stantinople part of our journey undetermined until 
 the last moment ; then, finding from the best infor- 
 mation that all was safe, made up our minds to see 
 the City of the Crescent. 
 
 You cannot imagine the beauty of the scene, as 
 we passed out of the Bay of Naples, the semi- 
 circle of hills, on whose slope the city is built ; 
 Herculaneum, Vesuvius, Pompeii, Posilippo, in 
 
 * This letter, which contained the journal of the author's so- 
 journ in Rome, was never received.
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 179 
 
 the glorious light of an October afternoon ; Capri, 
 just out of the harbor, veiled in the soft purple 
 atmosphere ; the sea calm, unbroken even by a 
 ripple. But when the sun went down behind the 
 hills, there came a flood of molten gold over land 
 and sea, such as I never saw before, and sur- 
 rounded us and every object far and near, so that 
 the ship and sea and neighboring shores seemed 
 transfigured. 
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE, October 20, 1853. 
 
 I DARE say this date will surprise you, as well 
 as the long interval between this and that above. 
 "Well, history (which is philosophy teaching by 
 example) will explain. 
 
 "We went in the Bosphorus as far as Malta, 
 passing through the Sicih'an straits, the ancient 
 Scylla and Charybdis. As we approached, I was 
 curious to see how far Homer's description was 
 borne out by the present state of this famous pas- 
 sage. I took up the Odyssey, went to the for- 
 ward part of the ship, as Ulysses did, and watched, 
 as he did, for Scylla. He had a sword ; I had 
 the Odyssey opened to the passage. The mon- 
 ster did not seize my companions ; but while I 
 was standing and carefully comparing the words 
 written three thousand years ago with the facts 
 of the present moment, a huge wave dashed over 
 the prow of the ship and drenched me from head 
 to foot. The strength of Scylla is lessened, but
 
 180 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 not destroyed. I was astonished at the truth of 
 the description, leaving out a few embellishments. 
 There was the rock of Scylla, running out into 
 the water on the left, and there was the sand of 
 Charybdis on the right, and there was the violent 
 current and whirlpool ; but I am bound, as a con- 
 scientious traveller, to state that I do not believe 
 the story of the ship having gone down into the 
 whirlpool, and after six hours' detention being 
 tossed up again, Ulysses meanwhile hanging 
 " like a bat " on the branches of a great fig-tree 
 that stretched over the waters. There is not a 
 bit of a fig-tree there. 
 
 Getting through the strait, we lost sight of land 
 before long, and struck off in a direct course for 
 Malta, leaving Syracuse, JEtna, and the southern 
 cape of Italy far behind. Another fine afternoon 
 and glorious evening on the blue Mediterranean ; 
 another early rising to see the sun, with Malta in 
 the distant horizon. At seven o'clock we entered 
 the harbor, the most extraordinary station in 
 the world. The island is a high rock, covered 
 on the side of the sea with the palaces of the 
 old knights, and the public buildings of the gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 As the steamer would not leave until the after- 
 noon, we went ashore and set about seeing the 
 
 O 
 
 island. It is one incessant up-hill and down-hill. 
 The cathedral is a gorgeous old church, full of mo- 
 saic floors, pictures, superb tombs of the old knights,
 
 THE STEAMER CABADOC. 181 
 
 statues, gilding, silver, and gold. The Governor's 
 palace once the residence of the Grand Mas- 
 ter is a splendid and spacious establishment, 
 with paintings, Gobelin tapestries, long corridors, 
 and immense saloons. 
 
 The sirocco wind .was blowing hot from the 
 sands of Africa, and the reflection of the burning 
 sun from stone pavements, and walls of houses, and 
 rocky hillsides, helped the sirocco to melt every 
 particle of strength out of our limbs. It is well 
 to experience a little of everything. The sirocco 
 gives you a new idea. I thought I had been suf- 
 focated before ; but all I had ever felt of heat 
 was cool and refreshing compared with this. We 
 bore it like heroes, and saw all we cared to see 
 in this famous island. 
 
 Happening to meet the British Admiralty agent, 
 he told us that Her Majesty's steamer Caradoc 
 was in port, would start for Constantinople in the 
 afternoon with important despatches, and would 
 get there three days earlier than the French boat. 
 He would arrange a passage for us if we liked, 
 though the ship was not intended to carry passen- 
 gers, but only the diplomatic correspondence. 
 
 We gladly accepted his obliging offer, and in 
 the afternoon were rowed on board. We found 
 there the Queen's messenger, the daughter of 
 Admiral Dundas (commander of the fleet), and 
 two or three naval officers, going up to join their 
 ships at the Dardanelles. The ship, therefore, was
 
 182 FAMILIAB LETTERS. 
 
 no common affair ; it was expected with immense 
 interest, and its arrival might decide the fate of 
 Europe and Asia. We shared in the common 
 feeling, and were in the 'position of two flies on 
 two coach-wheels. We did not raise a great dust 
 to be sure, but we did raise a prodigious foam. 
 
 On, on, on over the blue waves. The day 
 passes ; another splendid night. The night passes ; 
 another glorious sunrise. Yonder at our left 
 peers from the morning mist the land of Laconia, 
 the ancient Taenarum ; far before us the southern 
 point of Attica, Sunium with the columns of its 
 ancient temple standing ; nearer, Cerigo, the 
 island of Cythera, famous for the temple of Venus 
 and the birth of Helen ; on our right, another of 
 the Grecian isles. On we go between the two 
 islands, and the mainland stretches away and loses 
 itself in the distance. We pass between Sunium 
 and Zea (the old Ceos where Simonides was 
 born), with a dozen more of the isles of Greece 
 within the horizon, desolate, but beautiful in their 
 desolation ; we pass through the passage between 
 Euboea and Andros, and watch the shores until 
 night descends, and once more we are dashing 
 through the open sea, straight for Tenedos and the 
 kingdom of Priam. 
 
 Early the next morning I am on deck again. 
 I ask the man at the helm where we are. " Tene- 
 dos is in sight; and here is the shore of Asia." 
 Ah ! thought I, he has doubtless read Virgil ; he
 
 THE TROJAN SHORE. 183 
 
 has stolen the poet's very wordsj " Est in con- 
 spectu Tenedos" Looking around me, I recog- 
 nize familiar objects. There rises Mount Ida ; 
 yonder is Gargara ; farther north is the site of 
 " windy Troy." 
 
 Rapidly we near Besika Bay, across which 
 stretch the lines of the confederate fleets of France 
 and England. There lies the flag-ship of Admiral 
 Dundas, and, a little farther, floats the tricolor of 
 Admiral Hammelin, the Agamemnon and Men- 
 elaus of the united armaments. We create a tre- 
 mendous excitement in the fleet. Boats from one 
 ship and then from another put off to get the news 
 from us, and boxes and parcels from home. We 
 hear in turn that the fleets are about to move 
 up the Dardanelles, and that something is going 
 to happen. 
 
 We wait two or three hours, and then away we 
 go head foremost into the Hellespont, to carry our 
 despatches up to Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, the 
 British Minister. We learn that the Sultan has 
 declared war, hostilities to commence oh a certain 
 day, unless the Russians withdraw their forces in 
 the mean time. We steam along the Trojan shore. 
 There, where a boat's crew are taking in water, 
 opens the mouth of the Scamander. On the right 
 rises the tomb of Achilles, and at the other ex- 
 tremity of the shore, the mound of Ajax. Be- 
 tween these lay the Grecian fleet and the line 
 of tents four thousand years ago. On, on we
 
 184 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 go, to Sestos and Abydos, famous for the loves 
 of Hero and Leander. 
 
 Evening comes on, and the moon again favors 
 us with her light. We cannot go to bed ; for 
 Constantinople is to come in sight at midnight. 
 We have left the Homeric track, and are now 
 close upon both the European and Asiatic shores. 
 At midnight, " Constantinople " is shouted out. 
 We see, in the moonlight, the seraglio point with 
 its glittering domes ; minarets shooting up, slender 
 and crescent-topped, into the sky ; trees of the Sul- 
 tan's gardens lying black against the west ; here 
 and there scattered lights over the hills on which 
 the city stands. The " Golden Horn " suddenly 
 opens, and we see opposite to us the quarters of 
 Tophana, Galata, and Pera ; the shores lined with 
 arsenals ; the Sultan's palaces and harems ; the 
 heights crowned with domes and diplomatic resi- 
 dences. 
 
 Away we go, in a dream, an Arabian night, 
 full of sparkling waters, crescents, kiosks, minarets, 
 seraglios, and cypress-shaded burying-grounds : for 
 the Minister is not in Istamboul, and we must not 
 stop until we find him. We plunge into the Bos- 
 phorus, and make with all speed for Therapia, a 
 dozen miles up, and close to the entrance of the 
 Black Sea ; Istamboul fades away, and I go to 
 bed. 
 
 We wake in the morning to find ourselves lying 
 at anchor, with the Turkish fleet on one side, and
 
 THERAPIA. 185 
 
 the Egyptian on the other. The sun has not 
 risen, but it is already a busy scene among the 
 ships. We call a caique, and are rowed ashore 
 by an old Turk, to Therapia, the place where 
 the amiable Medea scattered poison, when she 
 was pursuing Jason, but now so healthy that all 
 the foreign ministers choose it for their residence 
 in preference to Constantinople. And here ends 
 our cruise on board Her Majesty's steamer 
 Caradoc.
 
 186 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE, October 23. 
 
 I HAVE now passed almost a week in these 
 regions, but have not time to give you any 
 full account of the thousand interesting things I 
 have seen and heard. I have twice seen the 
 Sultan ; have heard a lecture in Turkish, by Pro- 
 fessor Colonel Tahir Bey, on Trigonometry ; have 
 taken a Turkish bath ; have smoked two pipes 
 with the Patriarch of Constantinople, and one with 
 the Patriarch of Jerusalem. I have passed six 
 times the whole length of the Bosphorus : once, 
 sitting in Turkish fashion (vastly picturesque and 
 Oriental, but causing many aches in the legs), on 
 the bottom of a caique, rowing close under the 
 Sultan's palace, at sunset, and hearing soft mu- 
 sic from some imprisoned Fatima. I have been 
 over every quarter of Constantinople ; have trav- 
 elled in the steamboat with an old Turk and his 
 harem, about a dozen wives and as many slaves, 
 who were going to Constantinople for a frolic; 
 have been jostled in the bazaar by Turkish ladies, 
 shopping as zealously as if they were Christians ; 
 ducked in a steamer with a company of Ulema 
 (Doctors of Law) ; and the rest next time.
 
 TEOY AND THE ILIAD. 187 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 TROY, October 25, 1853. 
 
 I SUPPOSE you hardly expected to get a let- 
 ter from me, written at Priam's capital. I 
 am not exactly in the old king's capital ; for the 
 villanous Greeks the other day sacked the town, 
 under the orders of the chiefs, Agamemnon and 
 Menelaus, so completely that a stranger finds no 
 house of entertainment standing, in fact, no 
 house of any sort. 
 
 We are, therefore, compelled to keep on board, 
 and at this moment we are moving along the Tro- 
 jan shore, between Tenedos and the mainland, 
 with all -the points of the Homeric Troy as dis- 
 tinct as possible, on our left, the plain, the prom- 
 ontories, the long stretch of beach, on which the 
 " thousand-shipped fleet," as jEschylus calls it, 
 was drawn up ; in the background the Trojan and 
 Phrygian hills, Ida, Gargara, and the height once 
 occupied by " lofty Troy " : but Troy is no more, 
 and nature alone remains unchanged. 
 
 I cannot doubt that Homer saw this spot. I 
 have this morning been reading the Iliad, face to 
 face with the scenes of the immortal tale. The 
 features of the landscape are only incidentally
 
 188 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 brought into the description, and not formally or 
 minutely painted ; but every epithet applied to 
 them by Homer is as true to-day as it was three 
 thousand years ago. I do not see how any one 
 can traverse these seas and not believe in Troy, 
 and the personal existence of Homer. It would 
 do the learned critics of Germany no harm to 
 come here, and look about them a little, before 
 they decide that Troy is a fable and Homer a 
 myth. 
 
 As I look on the shore I see the " foaming sea," 
 and as I turn my eyes in the opposite direction, 
 they rest on the " wine-faced deep," which 
 phrases Homer has put into a single verse ; and, as 
 there is a pretty strong wind blowing, I hear the 
 roar of the loud-resounding sea (rro\v<f>\oia-(3oio 
 0a\dcr<rr)<;} exactly as Homer heard it, and impris- 
 oned the sound in the most sonorous line ever 
 written by a poet. 
 
 We have the originals from which Homer 
 drew, except the populations that made up this 
 rich and powerful kingdom ; but it is easy for the 
 imagination to repeople these spots with the heroic 
 figures that live forever in the Iliad. I seem to 
 see, as we sweep along, the forms of Achilles, Pa- 
 troclus, Diomedes ; I hear the neighing of horses, 
 the rattling of chariot-wheels, and the clang of 
 arms. On yonder height rise again the buried 
 walls of Troy, with the regal palaces they once 
 enclosed. There is the Scean gate, and just with-
 
 LESBOS. 189 
 
 in stand Hector and Andromache, holding that 
 pathetic conversation which has moved the heart 
 of thirty centuries. Farther on reappears the 
 tower, where the old councillors sat in debate, 
 and Helen approaches them, radiant with a 
 beauty which warms the blood in their ancient 
 veins, and I hear them say : 
 
 " No wonder such celestial charms 
 For nine long years have kept the world in arms." 
 
 SMYRNA, October 26. 
 
 TROY, and all its visionary scenes, vanished from 
 my sight soon after I had finished the preceding 
 sentences. On we went, along the coast of Asia 
 Minor, past many a famous shore and sunny isle. 
 The wind became strong and the sea violent, 
 bringing up many a passage in the Iliad, whe^e 
 the sound of the verse gives the very echo of the 
 anger of the sea. We had not many days on 
 the Atlantic of more tumultuous agitation of the 
 water, and tossing of the ship, than yesterday 
 and last night. 
 
 We entered the pass between Mytilene (the 
 ancient Lesbos) and the Asiatic coast a little be- 
 fore sunset ; and, many superb sunsets as I have 
 seen in Italy, I never saw anything more glorious 
 than the splendors that lingered long on the Les- 
 bian hills, after the sun went down. The clouds 
 had cleared away, and the range of mountains 
 was veiled in purple, over which the sky was
 
 190 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 flushed with burnished gold, and the evening star 
 shone forth with unusual magnificence. Sappho's 
 fragments have more . than one exquisite descrip- 
 tion, which shows that she had enjoyed the same 
 superlative beauty. You know Lesbos was her 
 birthplace, and you may be sure I thought of her 
 as we dashed along her island home. We stopped 
 at the town of Mytilene for an hour or two ; but 
 as she was not there, I did not go ashore. 
 
 This morning we awoke in the harbor of Smyr- 
 na, one of the seven birthplaces of Homer. 
 Going ashore, we procured a guide, and rambled 
 about the town in all directions. The river Me- 
 les, near which Homer is said to have been born, 
 runs near the town. On both banks are burying- 
 grounds, with tall cypresses, and tombstones sur- 
 mounted by sculptured turbans. At the bridge is 
 the great gathering-place for the camels, and the 
 central point of the commerce of Asia Minor. 
 We found hundreds of camels there, either load- 
 ing for a new journey, or just arrived from the 
 interior, and it was one of the most curious sights 
 I have yet seen. We met several caravans also, 
 in the streets, and wending their way through the 
 bazaars, and could not help admiring the patient 
 and intelligent look of these animals, though each 
 caravan was led by a very small donkey. 
 
 When we had finished our survey of the glitter- 
 ing temptations displayed in the bazaars, we hired 
 donkeys for a ride into the neighborhood, up a
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE. 191 
 
 mountain on the top of which are the ruins of an 
 old castle, built by the Genoese. From these 
 tumbling walls we had a most superb prospect of 
 the whole city of Smyrna, the harbor, the Lesbian 
 hills, and the valley of the Meles, far away into 
 the interior, with the beautiful mountain ranges 
 that shut it in. 
 
 Here, recently, have been many robberies and 
 some murders ; but they have now got the leader 
 of the banditti in prison, and he is to be sent up 
 to Constantinople, with the pleasant prospect of 
 losing his head. We spent an hour or two more 
 in the bazaar, where I bought for you one of those 
 famous storm-petrel coats, which you admire so 
 much. I hope I shall succeed in bringing it home ; 
 but it may be seized at some custom-house as a 
 dangerous and revolutionary garment. I shall do 
 my best, however. 
 
 Smyrna is a very amusing town. The variety 
 of languages, dresses, colors ; the horses, donkeys, 
 camels, dromedaries ; the bazaars with their end- 
 less variety of merchandise, diversify the spec- 
 tacle with infinite matter of entertainment. We 
 passed through, not only the European or Frank- 
 ish quarter, but the Armenian and Turkish, so 
 that we really saw the outside, at least, of every- 
 thing ; and having seen this, we came on board 
 the steamer, which renews her voyage this after- 
 noon. 
 
 Now let me go back to Constantinople and the
 
 192 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Turks. We were very fortunate in our visit there. 
 In the first place, the weather was good, even 
 beautiful, except part of one day. As I told you 
 in a letter which you will probably never get, we 
 passed Constantinople and went up to Therapia, 
 just at the entrance into the Black Sea. Most of 
 the foreign ministers live there, our own among 
 the rest. We stopped at the house where he has 
 apartments, and saw him immediately. I saw, 
 also, at Therapia, many people, English, French, 
 Turks, and others, more or less connected with 
 the Turkish service, from whom I picked up a 
 good deal of information. If you have looked 
 into the newspapers, you must have seen the " East- 
 ern question " more discussed than any other for 
 the last six months. 
 
 There is something very queer in the political 
 complications which have made the Christian pow- 
 ers of the West the supporters of the crumbling 
 empire of the Mahometans. The explanation is 
 to be sought in the desire to preserve the balance 
 of power in Europe, and in their fear of Russia. 
 Whether they can postpone the catastrophe long, 
 is a very doubtful question ; and whether the in- 
 terests of humanity and civilization will be pro- 
 moted by sustaining a government founded on 
 principles entirely hostile to both, is another very 
 serious question which the statesmen of Europe 
 must put to themselves sooner or later. 
 
 So long as the Turkish religion remains what it
 
 SALE OF WIVES. 193 
 
 is, an imposture, so long will any real pro- 
 gress of the nation be impossible. The Koran is 
 at once their law and their gospel ; and the Koran 
 sanctions practices which Christianity and sound 
 reason condemn as detestable, and which experi- 
 ence proves to be ruinous in the end. 
 
 Polygamy is approved by the Koran, and is uni- 
 versal among the rich classes. The best men in 
 Turkey the men who have a European reputa- 
 tion, like Reschid Pacha, the Minister of Foreign 
 Affairs have harems of wives and slaves, no one 
 can tell how many. The Sultan has innumerable 
 wives, and increases their number every year. It 
 is a common practice of the great pachas to send 
 him, on every occasion of a great festival, a pres- 
 ent of a handsome young woman, whom they 
 have bought of her parents for this purpose ; and 
 there is nothing disreputable to them, or to the 
 girl, in this ; on the contrary, it is a high and en- 
 viable honor to her. And the Sultan can pay no 
 greater compliment to the proudest dignitary of his 
 empire, than to make him a present of one of his 
 wives. 
 
 I was assured by a Greek physician, who has a 
 large practice among all the nationalities of Con- 
 stantinople, that infanticide is fearfully prevalent. 
 
 Female children are articles of commerce. They 
 are purchased by dealers, when young, and care- 
 fully brought up, for sale. These, however, are 
 not slaves, but wives. They are taught to dance, 
 
 9 M
 
 194 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 and to play on some musical instrument, but 
 nothing more, and their health is carefully at- 
 tended to. The price of a wife say from eigh- 
 teen to twenty years of age varies from twenty 
 to fifty thousand piasters, that is, from a thousand 
 to twenty-five hundred dollars, according to her 
 personal attractions and the supply of the market. 
 
 The Turks are essentially an indolent people. 
 To sit cross-legged on a carpet, and smoke the 
 chibouque all day long, is their highest conception 
 of felicity. Generally speaking, they do not drink 
 wine ; but brandy is not prohibited by the Koran, 
 and they do not deem it a sin to indulge in it. 
 They consume vast quantities of rakee, a kind 
 of gin or whiskey, which was not known in the 
 time of Mahomet, and therefore is not prohibited 
 by the Koran. 
 
 But the great curse of the race is the vicious 
 organization of society, as I have briefly indicated 
 above ; and this is deeply rooted in their law and 
 their religion. It can be cured only by the utter 
 overthrow of both ; and the fanaticism of the 
 Turk, still as violent as ever in the body of the 
 nation, makes any change in this respect hope- 
 less. 
 
 Meantime, other nations are advancing in cul- 
 ture, population, and power, while the population 
 of Turkey is rapidly diminishing, and her power 
 is nearly wasted away. Her vicious administra- 
 tion fetters labor, and makes it unproductive.
 
 REFORMS IN TURKEY. 195 
 
 England, especially Lord Palmerston, applauds 
 her as a. free-trader ; but Lord Palmerston forgot 
 to mention, when passing a glowing eulogium on 
 her enlightened policy, that, while English goods, 
 for the benefit of England, are admitted almost 
 free of duty, Turkish products cannot be exported 
 without paying twelve per cent. The conse- 
 quence is, that corn, for example, can be brought 
 from foreign countries cheaper than the Turks can 
 raise it, while no Turkish product of nature or of 
 human industry can be sent to a foreign market 
 so as to remunerate the producer. It has inevi- 
 tably resulted, that the Turks are miserably poor, 
 and are becoming more so every day. 
 
 These are some of the features in the picture 
 of Turkey, as they have appeared to me in the 
 rapid glance I have taken. On the other hand, 
 the Turks have interested me in many respects. 
 
 The father of the present Sultan commenced a 
 series of reforms, the aim of which was to place 
 Turkey more in harmony with the spirit of the 
 age and of Christian civilization : not that he had 
 any great respect for Christianity. His successor, 
 Abdul Medjid, has wisely carried them on. They 
 relate chiefly to the army. The European cos- 
 tume and drill have wholly taken the place of the 
 old Turkish dress and tactics. I have seen large 
 bodies of cavalry and infantry, including artil- 
 lery, and, to my eye, they appear as well, except 
 some want of exactness in manoeuvring, as any
 
 196 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 of the armies in Europe. They are larger and 
 better-looking men than the French soldiers. The 
 changes made by the Sultan, in these respects, are 
 undoubtedly great improvements. 
 
 I was amused to hear of one consequence of the 
 adoption of pantaloons, in the place of the former 
 Turkish trousers. When I saw the Sultan going 
 to the mosque the other day, I noticed that the 
 troops did not prostrate themselves, as I supposed 
 was their custom ; and as a Mussulman cannot 
 show any respect by raising the hat, they stood 
 stock still, and bolt upright, while their sovereign 
 was riding through the lines. I inquired the 
 meaning of this want of reverence, and was told 
 that the custom of prostration had been abandoned, 
 from the fear of tearing their pantaloons, ever 
 since the Turkish trousers had ceased to be worn. 
 The old conservative Turks, who thought the 
 Ottoman dominion at an end when the Oriental 
 trousers went out, may have been right ; no one 
 can foretell the consequences of omitting a mark 
 of reverence in a government so founded on exter- 
 nal homage. The Ottoman supremacy may have 
 resided in the nether garment, it may have 
 been a petticoat government after all. 
 
 They have done something in education. I 
 visited, as I told you, the military college, which 
 strangers seldom have an opportunity of seeing; 
 and I was surprised by what I saw. It is an 
 extensive and admirably organized establishment,
 
 TURKISH MILITARY COLLEGE. 197 
 
 with about twenty professors, most of whom 
 have been educated in Western Europe. About 
 one hundred young Turks are in training there. 
 The sons of Omer Pacha sit side by side with the 
 sons of the indigent, on terms of perfect equality. 
 They have a good library, mostly of French works 
 on science ; a tolerable collection of minerals ; a 
 chemical laboratory and a philosophical appara- 
 tus ; an excellent telescope ; models of machines, 
 &c. Their lecture-rooms are better arranged and 
 lighted, and more elegant, than any I ever saw 
 in America or Europe. Their annual examina- 
 tions are invariably attended by the Sultan, an 
 honor paid to science by no other European sov- 
 ereign. The students' rooms are kept in excel- 
 lent condition, and their morals and health are 
 anxiously cared for. The Professors have pub- 
 lished many text-books in Turkish, for the use 
 of the College. They have a printing-press, which 
 I saw in operation, and they have printed, not only 
 books, but several excellent Turkish maps. I 
 bought a Turkish Algebra, which I think of send- 
 ing to P , and a map of Constantinople. 
 
 Professor Tahir Bey, to whom I was introduced 
 by an Armenian Professor in the medical college, 
 (one of the few Turks who speak English,) gave 
 me all the explanations I asked, and politely al- 
 lowed me to be present at his lecture on Trigo- 
 nometry. I accepted the invitation with many 
 thanks, and few things have interested me more
 
 198 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 deeply. The room was admirably arranged. The 
 audience consisted of about ninety or one hundred 
 young men, sitting on benches, each with his 
 note-book before him. The Professor illustrated 
 his subject on the blackboard, and I never saw a 
 more attentive or intelligent class. He was fluent 
 in speech, and ready in drawing his diagrams. 
 Of course I could not understand a single word 
 he said, and was able to follow his lecture only by 
 following the work on the blackboard. But I 
 saw that he understood what he was about, and 
 that he was really and ablyteaching these youths 
 the same sciences which young men at their age 
 are studying in our American colleges. 
 
 I had no time to visit the medical college, which 
 I regret. There is a marine school also, which, I 
 believe, is well conducted ; and there are numer- 
 ous private schools for the children of all classes. 
 But the military schools absorb the attention of 
 the government, and in the institution I saw I had 
 an opportunity of witnessing the best the Turks 
 have yet done. 
 
 It is a common notion that the women lead a 
 very retired life, in the seclusion of the harem. 
 Nothing can be more erroneous. In passing up 
 and down the Bosphorus, nearly half the passen- 
 gers were Turkish women. *Three times, a whole 
 harem, consisting of fifteen or twenty women, 
 partly wives, partly slaves, came on board, from 
 the palace of some rich old Turk, under the care
 
 TURKISH WOMEN. 199 
 
 of a black guard, with a terrific sword by his side, 
 to go down to Constantinople on a frolic ; or per- 
 haps to go shopping in the bazaars. They were 
 dressed in various colors, green, blue, mouse- 
 colored, pink. The veil, or yashmak, was drawn 
 over the forehead, and the lower part of the face, 
 up to the middle of the nose, leaving only a space 
 for a pair of very black eyes to flash out. I never 
 could help laughing at the figure the negresses 
 made under this disguise. 
 
 I took some pains to watch these people, and 
 twice I happened to be in the same part of the 
 boat where they sat. They laughed and chatted 
 with one another, and sometimes with the men 
 standing around them, as merrily as so many 
 Christians. Now and then, if the face was pret- 
 ty and there were many pretty faces the 
 yashmak would be gradually withdrawn, and I 
 had the opportunity of observing quite at my lei- 
 sure. In each harem there were two or three 
 Circassian ladies of the most exquisite beauty. 
 These were probably the thirty-thousand-piaster 
 wives. But there was no variety in their expres- 
 sion. Some of the women are immensely fat, and 
 they roll along, bundled up in their robes, in the 
 most ludicrous manner. One of the most laugh- 
 able sights I ever saw was an old Turkish lady, 
 with a pair of spectacles stuck on her nose, and 
 exactly filling the aperture of the yashmak, while 
 she was eagerly cheapening a piece of silk. The
 
 200 FAMILIAE LETTERS. 
 
 common women run about, looking like bundles 
 of dirty linen going to the wash of their own ac- 
 cord ; "others, a little higher up the social scale, 
 look like bundles of linen coming home from the 
 wash. It is very amusing to see the little girls 
 of ten or twelve years. How any of them keep 
 their clothes on I cannot imagine. 
 
 When the Sultan went to the mosque, the win- 
 dows of the houses along the streets, though pro- 
 tected by jalousies^ were filled with black eyes 
 peeping curiously out ; and a very fat Turkish 
 lady, with about a thousand yards of Brousa silk 
 wound round her, stopped her carriage just where 
 we were standing, and waited to see His Highness 
 pass. Nearly opposite the palace is a low, broad 
 wall, the top of which was crowded with green, 
 pink, yellow, and mouse-colored bundles contain- 
 ing women, with negresses in attendance. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day (Friday, the 
 Turkish Sabbath) we took a caique, and rowed 
 over to the " Sweet Waters " on the Asiatic side 
 of the Bosphorus. This is a favorite resort, being 
 a little valley, with a stream, and trees overshad- 
 owing it. Here we found a large number of 
 Turkish ladies with their attendants, reclining on 
 carpets, bolstered up by luxurious cushions, and 
 sipping their coffee or sherbet, while their lords 
 were amusing themselves in another part of the 
 ground. Some of these again were beautiful, but 
 of the same order with those I have already men-
 
 VOYAGE WITH THE ULEMA. 201 
 
 tioned, and scarcely to be distinguished from one 
 another. We met there a company of Gypsies, 
 very merry and very saucy. 
 
 Do you know what an araba is ? I will ex- 
 plain. An araba is the height of fashion and 
 luxury, and employed only in the very best soci- 
 ety. It is a clumsy carriage, like a very old- 
 fashioned family coach, drawn by a yoke of the 
 white oxen of Asia. The inside is covered with 
 a thick bed, and the sides lined with cushions. 
 Here lies buried the Turkish beauty, on her way to 
 sip her coffee at the Sweet Waters. Certainly 
 nothing is more redolent of lazy enjoyment than a 
 Circassian dame rolling about in the araba, as her 
 oxen, driven by a couple of turbaned Turks, or an 
 Ethiopian slave, slowly drag the ancient machine 
 along the road. So much for Turkish ladies. 
 
 One day, while I was staying at Therapia, I 
 went down to Constantinople, and, returning to 
 the boat, was overtaken by a tremendous rain. I 
 got thoroughly drenched, and hurried down into 
 the cabin, which was^ filled to overflowing with 
 Ulema, or Doctors of Law. Being an Alim my- 
 self, I thought I might, without impropriety, re- 
 main in such worshipful company. By and by, 
 they took out their long pipes, and very gravely 
 began to smoke. I consoled myself with the re- 
 flection that they would smoke me dry, and save 
 me from the rheumatism, if they turned me into 
 
 bacon. The waves were running high, and the 
 9*
 
 202 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 boat was pitching at a great rate. The windows 
 of the cabin were open, and one wave bigger than 
 the rest poured in a monstrous deluge over the 
 turbans and robes of the cross-legged doctors, and 
 put out their pipes. Such a scampering of Ulema, 
 such a tearing up stairs of doctors learned in the 
 law, you never beheld. I thought I should go 
 into convulsions. I really believe they thought 
 they were all drowned. At any rate but three or 
 four ventured back into the cabin, though the 
 deck was crowded with passengers, and a young 
 Englishman and I had the room almost wholly to 
 ourselves. 
 
 At Constantinople we remained four days, and 
 in that time visited every quarter of the city. We 
 went twice through the bazaars, and I regretted 
 not being rich enough to send silks and carpets 
 home to all my friends. G made some pur- 
 chases. I contented myself with buying a few 
 bottles of otto of roses, and looking wistfully at 
 the rest. There were slippers, pearl and golden ; 
 there were silks from Brousa, and rugs from Per- 
 sia ; there were O dear me ! a most distract- 
 ing variety of Oriental splendors, which made me 
 feel too sensibly the miserable hiatus in my purse. 
 Hundreds of Turkish women bundles rather, 
 shuffling about in yellow slippers were making 
 their purchases of solemn-looking Turks, turbaned 
 and sitting cross-legged on their counters. The 
 variety and oddity of the scene were highly en-
 
 THE SERAGLIO. 203 
 
 tertaining. I sat down in one of the shops, where 
 I bought some trifle. Coffee was ordered, and 
 I sipped it, as I leisurely surveyed the comical 
 groups around me. When I rose to go, I offered 
 to pay for the coffee, but they told me it was the 
 custom of the place to offer coffee to all who came 
 to buy of them, a very civil custom, I thought, 
 and worthy of imitation elsewhere. 
 
 On the last day of our sojourn at Constantinople 
 we joined a party to visit the seraglio and the 
 mosques. It is a pretty costly affair, the fees to 
 different official personages, and to the several cus- 
 todians, amounting to about forty dollars, so that 
 the custom is to send round to the different hotels, 
 and make up as large a party as possible, to lessen 
 the expense to each. As it was, it cost us four 
 dollars apiece. 
 
 We went entirely through the seraglio, its 
 gardens cooled by marble fountains and filled with 
 flowers, its carpeted rooms and latticed passages. 
 We saw the chambers of the Sultanas, and the 
 gate through which those who had been guilty of 
 offending the Sultan were taken out, sewed up 
 in bags, and pitched into the Bosphorus. We saw 
 the library, consisting of manuscripts carefully 
 locked up, so that nobody can read them ; and 
 the ancient throne-room, where the Sultan used 
 to sit in state, and receive the prostrations of his 
 pachas and mighty men. We went to the church 
 of St. Helen, now converted into a Turkish ar-
 
 204 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 mory, and, finally, to the great mosque of St. 
 Sophia. 
 
 Before visiting the last, however, we stepped 
 into a Turkish restaurant, and, taking our places 
 cross-legged on the carpet, ordered Icibaubs, cof- 
 fee, pilaf^ and chibouques. I took only a cup of 
 coffee, and as my legs began to ache soon, I re- 
 sumed the Frankish position, sitting as well as I 
 could. 
 
 St. Sophia, you know, was originally a Chris- 
 tian church, the most splendid in the East during 
 the reign of the Byzantine emperors. It is now 
 the centre of Moslem worship, a kind of Ma- 
 hometan cathedral. Many people were at their 
 devotions, some singing, some saying their pray- 
 ers, and some with their faces touching the floor. 
 Among the rest, in one corner of the mosque, 
 were several of the ladies of the Sultan's harem. 
 We looked at them with considerable curiosity. 
 They were dressed in costly silks, but distin- 
 guished in no other way that I could see from the 
 other ladies, who were worshipping in different 
 parts of the immense mosque. The roof of the 
 dome and of the side-arches is superbly adorned 
 with mosaics, but in other respects St. Sophia 
 does not compare with some of the great Chris- 
 tian cathedrals. 
 
 Constantinople, or Byzantium, as it was then 
 called, was an important place in the age of De- 
 mosthenes ; again, after the division of the Roman
 
 THE GREEK PATRIARCH. 205 
 
 empire, it became the splendid rival of Rome, and 
 in the history of the Crusades it played a conspic- 
 uous part. But it is surprising how few remains 
 exist, to testify to its ancient greatness. Two obe- 
 lisks in the Hippodrome, a beautiful sculptured sar- 
 cophagus, a few mutilated busts, a part of Constan- 
 tine's aqueduct, with t. Sophia, and St. Helen, 
 are almost all that survives from the early time ; 
 and not one of these goes back to the age of De- 
 mosthenes. All the rest is Turkish, or modern 
 European, dating since 1456. 
 
 The descendants of the original Greek inhab- 
 itants have always lived in a quarter of the city 
 called the Phanaro. Here is the present resi- 
 dence of the Greek Patriarch. As I had a good 
 opportunity to call on this dignitary, I was glad to 
 avail myself of it. Dr. Stamatiades the person 
 I have already mentioned took me to the pal- 
 ace, a very plain structure, looking out upon the 
 Golden Horn ; and we were received in a long 
 saloon, three sides of which were lined with the 
 sofa or divan, covered with carpets. 
 
 His Sanctity was seated on the right as we en- 
 tered, cross-legged, exactly like a Turk. He re- 
 ceived us very politely, placed us on the divan, 
 (I did not attempt to cross my legs,) clapped his 
 hands, and, servants appearing, ordered sweet- 
 meats, chibouques, and coffee. First came a 
 grave and clerical - looking figure, with sweet- 
 meats, whereof I duly partook. Next came two
 
 206 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 other equally grave-looking gentlemen, with two 
 enormously long pipes, and two brazen dishes. 
 The brazen dishes were set in the middle of the 
 room ; the bowls of the pipes were placed in the 
 brazen dishes, and the ends of the pipe -stems 
 were placed in our hands. It would not do to 
 decline, for it was a great honor ; so great, that 
 no inferior dignitary can smoke in the presence 
 of the Patriarch. The Archbishop of Nicomedia, 
 a venerable, white-bearded old gentleman, came 
 in while we were there. After making his obei- 
 sance he skipped up on the carpet, coiled his legs 
 under him, bowed again to the Patriarch, and 
 then to us. Coffee was ordered for him, but no 
 pipe, while a second pipe was brought with most 
 respectful ceremonies to the Doctor and me. I 
 smoked with the gravity of a Turk, but with 
 some inward misgivings as to what would be- 
 come of me. 
 
 We stayed about half an hour. The Patriarch 
 asked me what was the state of my country. I 
 said, " Happy and prosperous." " May God grant 
 it shall ever remain so," was the courteous and 
 Christian reply. He asked a great many questions, 
 which I answered as well as I could ; and when I 
 rose to go, I said in Greek, " I greatly thank your 
 All-Holiness for the honor of this reception." He 
 took my hand, and said that it would give him 
 great pleasure if I would often repeat my visit. 
 I bowed, and he bowed, each with hand upon his
 
 THE SULTAN. 207 
 
 heart ; and so I took leave, probably forever, of 
 the kind and venerable Patriarch. . 
 
 At the palace of the Patriarch of Jerusalem 
 just the same ceremony was gone through with, 
 sweetmeats, coffee, pipes. I smoked again, the 
 third pipe in a single afternoon, determined not 
 to fall behind the most ceremonious Oriental in 
 these social duties. 
 
 I was sorry I had not time to see the Greek 
 society here, as I might easily have done, through 
 the kindness of these gentlemen ; but time pressed, 
 and Greece herself was beckoning in the distance. 
 So on Monday afternoon we went on board the 
 Austrian steamer, in a heavy sea ; and when she 
 left the Golden Horn the sun was just setting, 
 under a cloud, but still glorious, an emblem, it 
 seemed to me, of the storm about to break over 
 the setting sun of the devoted city. I had a pre- 
 sentiment that I should never see Constantinople 
 again ; or, if I did, that it would be under other 
 rulers, and that the crescent would erelong be 
 driven back to Asia, whence it came exactly four 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 The Sultan is a melancholy-looking man. His 
 face wears the fixed and sad expression of one 
 who is conscious that his doom is drawing nigh ; 
 and there is a vague feeling among his subjects 
 that he will be the last of his race to sit on the 
 throne of Istamboul. This feeling is strengthened 
 by the fact that he has only fifteen children, while
 
 208 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 his father had more than a hundred. So small a 
 family is looked upon by the Turks as an evil 
 omen for their sovereign. I fancied, as I gazed 
 upon his sorrowful countenance, that I read a 
 similar foreboding there. The Sultan is a gentle 
 sovereign, averse to bloodshed. He would not 
 surrender the Hungarian refugees, and he would 
 gladly avoid the horrors of war. 
 
 The great man here is not the Sultan, nor 
 Rescind Pacha, but Lord Stratford. The able 
 answers to the Russian diplomatists, by which the 
 Turkish Cabinet has surprised the world, have 
 been substantially the work of Lord Stratford, and 
 the whole foreign policy of Turkey has been 
 shaped by this very distinguished nobleman. So, 
 at least, I have been informed by good authority 
 at Constantinople, and I have no doubt of the fact. 
 But this very fact weakens my faith in the possi- 
 bility of Turkey's maintaining her independence. 
 She will not always have a Lord Stratford to rely 
 upon, nor an English alliance to back the policy 
 he recommends ; and though Russia may be foiled 
 for the moment, she will repeat the trial, until 
 Constantinople adds another jewel to the crown 
 of the Czar, unless the new Greco-Byzantine 
 empire solve the Eastern question, with the con- 
 sent of the Western powers, before the Russian 
 has another chance.
 
 QUARANTINE AT SYEA. 209 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 ATHENS, October 30, 1853. 
 
 I HAVE at length reached the city which has 
 been the aim and end of my long travels, and 
 still longer studies, " illustrious Athens, the 
 prop of Greece." I can scarcely believe that I 
 am here, that I have been here two whole days. 
 I am glad I did not come before, glad that I 
 have approached so gradually, that I have seen 
 the modern culture of England and France, the 
 mediaeval of Germany, the medieval and Roman 
 in Italy, the seat of Byzantine Greek at Constan- 
 tinople, the earliest Ionian on the coast and islands 
 of Asia Minor ; and now my eyes behold the 
 crowning flower of ancient genius and art, in the 
 sublime remains- of Athens. 
 
 From Smyrna we had a rough passage, through 
 the jEgean Islands, to Syra. At Syra we were 
 theoretically in quarantine, but remained on board 
 
 the ship all day. Tell J I sent the package 
 
 for Mr. E on shore, not being allowed to go 
 
 myself, because, coming from Asia, I was presumed 
 to be infected with the plague. In the afternoon 
 
 Mr. E rowed off to the ship, but could not 
 
 come on board, because it was presumed that he
 
 210 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 would catch the plague of me, and so endanger 
 the lives of his Majesty's subjects in Syra. We 
 talked, however, a long time ; I leaning over the 
 side of the ship, and he standing up in the boat. 
 We could not shake hands ; for that would have 
 sent him to the lazaretto for twenty-four hours, as 
 a plague-stricken person. He inquired eagerly 
 about J , and all her father's family, and lis- 
 tened with the greatest interest to all I could tell 
 him. I promised to visit him in Syra, if I could 
 possibly find the time. At length he returned, 
 with many hearty adieus. 
 
 At ten o'clock in the evening the steamer was 
 again under way. I never passed a more tremen- 
 dous night. The wind howled and screamed 
 through the cordage, the waves roared, the ship 
 pitched and tossed on the agitated waters ; the 
 timbers creaked and groaned, as if they were in 
 mortal agony ; the furniture of the cabin danced 
 about from side to side, knocking at the doors of 
 the state-rooms, and banging against the tables, as 
 if the foul fiends had got into every leg ; and we, 
 the unhappy passengers, who tried in vain to 
 sleep, were unmercifully beaten against the side 
 of the ship, and the outside of the berths in which 
 we were uncomfortably stretched. My ribs still 
 ache with collisions between them and the ribs of 
 the vessel. When all is quiet, the Mediterranean 
 looks so blue and gentle you would suppose an 
 angry murmur impossible ; but when the Boreas
 
 LANDING AT THE PEIR^US. 211 
 
 of Homer, or the Zephyrus, lashes the billows, 
 then is the same blue Mediterranean an ungov- 
 ernable vixen, screaming, scolding, buffeting 
 everybody that stands in her way. One of our 
 guns was dismounted, and one of the officers had 
 his finger crushed, and fainted with the pain. It 
 was a wild night. 
 
 When I went through the form of getting up 
 in the morning, pretending to open my eyes, 
 which had not been closed all night, I found 
 we had doubled the promontory of Sunium, and 
 were dashing along the western coast of Attica. 
 The sun was just rising over the hills, clear and 
 brilliant, as if he had never known a cloud. Hy- 
 mettus was in the distance, loftier than I ex- 
 pected to find it ; Pentelicus soon gleamed in 
 sight ; on our left lay ^Egina ; before us Salamis, 
 and the strait where the great defeat of the Per- 
 sians took place. 
 
 The plain of Athens gradually opened, with 
 Parnes and Cithseron on the north. The Acrop- 
 olis, at first but a speck in the centre, rapidly 
 grew upon our sight, as we approached it. Then 
 the Parthenon, in its ruined but glorious beauty, 
 stood against the sunlit sky, and the monument of 
 Philopappus on the Museion hill. The craggy 
 brow of the Areopagus next met our view. Now 
 we were skimming along the Phaleric harbor. In 
 a moment more Munychia lay before us. Next, 
 rounding a point, we swiftly entered the Peiraeus,
 
 212 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 and in a few minutes were anchored where the 
 ancient war-galleys the fleets so often mentioned 
 by Demosthenes were wont to ride, before they 
 started for Thermopylae, or Byzantium, or Sicily. 
 
 But our twenty-four hours of quarantine, which 
 began at Syra, were not yet over. We were still, 
 for an hour or two, theoretically infected with the 
 plague. An old doctor, looking like a battered 
 bust of Hippocrates, came alongside to inspect us. 
 We were mustered on deck ; he nodded, and we 
 retired. At length the moment of release ar- 
 rived. We scrambled down to a boat which Mil- 
 tiades had already engaged for us ; rowed ashore, 
 stepped into a hack contradiction to all clas- 
 sical experience ! and were driven by a coach- 
 man over the Peiraic road, between the ruins 
 of the walls of Themistocles, up to the city of 
 Athens. We passed the olive-groves of Plato's 
 Academy ; dashed up to the Temple of Theseus, 
 dismounted and went through it ; climbed the 
 Areopagus, where Orestes was tried and Paul 
 preached; looked over the Forum to the Pnyx, 
 and the Bema whence Demosthenes harangued the 
 Athenians ; climbed up to the Propylsea ; mounted 
 the marble staircase leading into the Acropolis ; 
 went through and round the Parthenon; exam- 
 ined the piles of sculptured marbles still remaining 
 on the ground ; admired the Erechtheium ; looked 
 round upon the matchless panorama of marble 
 mountains that encircle the plain ; descended,
 
 FOREIGNERS IN ATHENS. 213 
 
 stopping at the newly found temple of the Wing- 
 less Victory on the way ; walked along the south- 
 ern slope, surveying the ruins of the Odeion and 
 the site of the Dionysiac Theatre ; jumped into 
 our degenerate hack and drove to the still stand- 
 
 O 
 
 ing columns that form a part of the gigantic Tem- 
 ple of Olympian Zeus ; passed under the Arch of 
 Hadrian ; drove to the Temple of the Winds in 
 the street of jEolos ; then, to bring the journey to 
 a quite .modern termination, dropped my luggage 
 at the Hotel d'Angleterre. 
 
 Here I took leave of G , who, instead of 
 
 passing a week or two in Greece, as was at first 
 proposed, grew impatient to rejoin his family in 
 Florence, and therefore resolved to content him- 
 self with this flying visit to Athens, and to pro- 
 ceed to Ancona by the same steamship, which 
 would leave the Peira3us at four o'clock, un- 
 consciously justifying the words of Ulysses in the 
 second Iliad : 
 
 " For he who from his wife a single month remains 
 Impatient grows on board the many-benched ship, 
 Tossed by the winter's storms, and the tumultuous seas." 
 
 So here I was, quite alone, planted in the midst 
 of Athens. After resting a little from our clas- 
 sical scramble, I dressed, took a guide, and went 
 out with some of my letters of introduction. Mr. 
 King was out, Mr. Finlay was at dinner ; Sir 
 Richard Church was in, and I had a pleasant half- 
 hour's chat with this hero of the revolution, and
 
 214 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 present senator. With him I found Mariani, one 
 of the Triumvirate of the late Roman Republic, 
 a very large and quite distinguished-looking man. 
 
 Next, I went to see Mr. Hill, the father, almost, 
 of modern Athens. He received me very pleas- 
 antly, and, after talking awhile, walked out with 
 me. As we passed the King's palace, the carriage 
 was at the door, and it was evident that their Ma- 
 jesties were going to drive or ride, for there 
 were saddle-horses, too. So we waite.d to see 
 them. In a short time the Queen appeared, got 
 into the carriage with one of her women, and 
 drove away. She has a gracious and agreeable 
 look, but did not seem to me to be very hand- 
 some. The King came in a few moments, dressed 
 in the Greek costume, and, mounting his horse, 
 galloped by, bowing politely to me and the other 
 loafers, who stood, hat in hand, to see his Majesty 
 pass. 
 
 We went next to see Mr. Arnold, an American 
 missionary stationed here. At his house we found 
 several gentlemen, arranging an excursion to Mar- 
 athon for the next day. They invited me to join 
 it, and I gladly consented. 
 
 We also called on Mr. Wyse, the British Am- 
 bassador here. Mr. Winthrop gave me a letter to 
 this gentleman, and I wish you would take an 
 early occasion to see him, and say how much I 
 am indebted to him for this kindness. Mr. Wyse 
 is one of the most accomplished men I have ever
 
 THE GREEK NOT A DEAD LANGUAGE. 215 
 
 met, a scholar, an artist, an experienced states- 
 man, and everywhere regarded as a man of in- 
 flexible integrity. 
 
 I spent the evening at Mr. Hill's, having ac- 
 cepted an invitation to dine on Sunday (to-day) 
 with Mr. Wyse. It was very curious to hear the 
 Greek spoken as the language of society. A 
 Greek lady was making an evening visit there ; 
 and Mr. Hill's adopted daughter, called Elizabeth 
 of Crete, is a young Greek lady, who not only 
 speaks the modern Greek with elegance, as her 
 mother tongue, but knows the ancient Greek bet- 
 ter than most European Professors, and reads Ho- 
 mer and Sophocles just as we read Shakespeare 
 and Milton. She speaks English, too, though with 
 something of a foreign accent. Her family was 
 killed by. the Turks, her property destroyed, and 
 she left an orphan and penniless. She was first 
 placed in a missionary school, and then taken into 
 Mr. Hill's family, living entirely as one of them. 
 She repeated several Cretan ballads that have 
 never been published, and read other pieces from 
 Fauriel, with singular taste and beauty. 
 
 I have not got over the strange impression it 
 makes to hear the Greek familiarly spoken ; to 
 hear a well-bred lady using the language I had 
 been studying these thirty years, with the facility 
 I have in using English. I say the Greek; for 
 the language spoken now by educated people here 
 is substantially Greek. It is absurd to speak of 
 the Greek as a dead language.
 
 216 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 This very day, I went up to the Areopagus. 
 At first the place was utterly deserted. Not a 
 human being was there, nor in the Agora, once 
 so full of busy life, nor in the Pnyx, where the 
 whole population used to assemble to hear their 
 orators ; nor at the Propylaea, once thronged by 
 stately processions. I was absorbed by the 
 thoughts such objects could not fail to inspire, 
 and by the infinite contrast between the past and 
 the present. I thought of Paul preaching to the 
 philosophers, on the spot where I was sitting, si- 
 lent and alone ; of Demosthenes thrilling the as- 
 sembled Athenians with the loftiest sentiments of 
 patriotism, as he stood on the rocky platform on 
 the opposite hill ; of Socrates, discoursing to his 
 weeping friends on the immortality of the soul, in 
 the dungeon almost within a stone's throw, so 
 near that I could see the mortises in the living 
 rock where the beams of the wooden front were 
 inserted. I was running over the thoughts of the 
 great Apostle, and of the scarcely less great hea- 
 thens, whose names are forever linked to these 
 spots ; and as I mused, a ragged but bright-look- 
 ing boy came up, and spoke to me. I entered 
 into conversation with him. He told me, in ex- 
 cellent Greek, that he came from Chalcis, beyond 
 the mountains ; his father died two years ago ; his 
 mother was still alive. I asked what he was 
 doing in Athens. He waited and did errands in a 
 coffee-house. Wishing to try him a little further,
 
 MARATHON. 217 
 
 I pointed to the Temple of Theseus, and asked 
 him what it was. He answered, in as good Greek 
 as Xenophon would have used, " The Temple of 
 Theseus." I pointed to the dungeon of Socrates. 
 Said he, " The prison of Socrates." *' Who was 
 Socrates ? " said I. " The ancient philosopher," 
 was the instant reply. This again was odd, 
 though of course perfectly natural, that this little 
 Chalcidian ragamuffin should converse in Greek 
 with so much greater facility than I could, using 
 only a single word that was not classical and 
 that was coffee-house in the course of fifteen or 
 twenty minutes. 
 
 I went yesterday to Marathon. We drove in a 
 carriage to Cephissia, near which, you remember, 
 Plato had a farm which he left by will to his son. 
 Here we breakfasted on coffee and boiled eggs, 
 and for the first time I used the knife and spoon 
 
 that gave me, to the great admiration of my 
 
 companions. Thence we rode on horseback round 
 Pentelicus, and over the high mountains that 
 shut in the plain of Marathon. It was a very 
 fatiguing ride, the road being steep, and as rough 
 as any mule-path among the Alps. But the views 
 all the way are magnificent ; and when, after four 
 hpurs' riding, the plain, the sea, Eubcea on the 
 opposite side, and the mound beneath which lie 
 buried the Athenians who fell in that most mem- 
 orable battle, burst upon our sight, we could not 
 restrain an exclamation of wonder and delight. I 
 10
 
 218 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 had not been at all prepared for the perfect and 
 splendid beauty of the place ; and when you add to 
 this the historical associations, you must not won- 
 der if I find it hard to express the full measure of 
 gratification I experienced in that great moment. 
 
 We galloped all over the plain, which is six 
 miles long and two miles wide. We ascended the 
 mound, and, lying down on its summit, read the 
 description of the battle in Herodotus, with every 
 feature of the scene distinctly before us ; then we 
 galloped along the shore of the " much-resounding 
 sea," and, having satisfied our curiosity, returned 
 through the little village of Marathon, by another 
 and less difficult road, to Cephissia, where we 
 took more coffee, then went home in our car- 
 riage, having before us a glorious Athenian sun- 
 set, bathing in golden light the heights of Pen- 
 telicus, Hymettus, Lycabettus, and the distant hill 
 of Eleusis. Thus ended the first entire day in 
 Greece. 
 
 To-day I went, as I have already said, to hear 
 St. Paul on the Areopagus, Demosthenes on the 
 Bema, Socrates in prison, and Dr. Hill in the 
 English chapel. This evening I dined with a 
 small party at the British Minister's, and had a 
 delightful and instructive time.
 
 THE AREOPAGUS. 219 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ATHENS, November 6, 1853. 
 
 LET me now tell you more fully than in my 
 last letter how I spent my first Sunday in 
 Athens. In the forenoon I heard Dr. King, the 
 American missionary, preach to a small assembly 
 of Greeks, in his own house, in Greek, an excel- 
 lent sermon, to every word of which I could cor- 
 dially assent. Then I took a copy of the Greek 
 New Testament, and, walking round the Acrop- 
 olis by the street of the Tripods and along the 
 upper ranges of the Dionysiac Theatre, passed the 
 Odeion of Herodes Atticus, and the Propylaea, 
 down into the valley on the north of the Acrop 
 olis, and up the stone steps to the Areopagus. I 
 read the admirable discourse of St. Paul, standing 
 as he did, " in the midst of Mars Hill." I read it 
 five times, from beginning to end, twice aloud, 
 in presence of the same natural features of the 
 scene that lay before his eyes, and many of the 
 grandest objects of art that he saw, ruinous, but 
 still sublime. The discourse in the Acts is evi- 
 dently only a sketch of the sermon as it was de- 
 livered, but I think it embraces all the main 
 points. Standing there, on an elevated rock, " in
 
 220 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the midst of Mars Hill," silent, with the Acropolis 
 before me, covered with fragments of idols and 
 ruins of " temples made with hands," the seats 
 of the Areopagites around me scarcely traceable 
 and crumbling with age and the weather, and no 
 one to occupy them, except the fancied forms 
 of the Epicureans and Stoics who encountered* 
 St. Paul, I could well understand the noble 
 eloquence with which the Apostle spoke to his 
 curious hearers of the " God that made the world 
 and all things therein," who is " Lord of heaven 
 and earth, and dwelleth not in temples made with 
 hands." 
 
 These words are even more striking now than 
 they were when St. Paul uttered them. Then 
 these glorious temples stood entire, and the stat- 
 ues that peopled or surrounded them seemed like 
 an assembly of gods; now the gods are prostrate, 
 or carried away to adorn the museums of dis- 
 tant lands. Heads, arms, legs, mutilated bodies, 
 majestic and beautiful indeed, but thrown down 
 from their high places, and broken in pieces, or 
 laboriously put together by the antiquary, are all 
 that remain, around the ruinous and time-stained 
 columns, which stand so mournfully on the spot 
 which they once made the central point of Gre- 
 cian worship. Surely, the Apostle's words sound 
 more solemn after eighteen centuries have wrought 
 so tremendous an argument for their truth. If 
 any temples built by human hands deserved to be
 
 PAUL ON MARS HILL. 221 
 
 the dwelling-place of God, it was the temples on 
 the Acropolis ; and what are they now ? Wonder- 
 fully do those old columns, friezes, and architraves 
 stand out against an Attic evening sky ; won- 
 derfully do they reflect the rays of the sun, as he 
 comes up in his morning splendor, over the ridges 
 of Hymettus. But God is in the setting and the 
 rising sun ; He is enthroned on the blue arch of 
 the sky ; He looks down from yonder crescent 
 moon, that hangs over the Acropolis ; His breath 
 is the soft air which sweeps over those beautiful 
 mountains and these spreading plains : but surely 
 He dwelleth not in the mouldering temples, made 
 by human hands, however cunning. St. Paul, 
 having so powerfully declared this truth, passes on 
 with admirable tact, and brief but effective elo- 
 quence, to the brotherhood of men, and the future 
 judgment of the world by the Saviour, and closes 
 most impressively with the resurrection of tho 
 dead. 
 
 From his first allusion to the unknown God, he 
 kept as close as possible to the range of Grecian 
 thought. For Greeks had conceived, in their 
 better moments, of the unity of God and his spir- 
 itual nature ; one of their poets quoted happily 
 by St. Paul had declared that men were the 
 children of God ; the doctrine of repentance had 
 dawned upon the souls of Socrates and Plato, and 
 a future judgment was distinctly believed and 
 taught in their schools : but when he spoke of the
 
 222 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 resurrection of the dead, he suddenly overleaped 
 the boundaries of Grecian thought, and left his 
 hearers in amazement, gaining, however, some 
 proselytes, " among the which was Dionysius the 
 Areopagite, and a woman named Damaris, and 
 others with them." 
 
 After an hour or two on the Areopagus, I 
 walked across the deserted hollow to the prison of 
 Socrates. Here I sat down on a rocky seat, and 
 read the two dialogues the Criton and Phaedon 
 of Plato the scene of which is placed here. 
 They contain, I have no doubt, the substance of 
 the conversations of Socrates with his disciples, 
 during the last two days of his life, and are re- 
 markable for the truly Christian character of the 
 moral and even the religious doctrines taught by 
 that incomparable man. It must have been with- 
 in a few feet of the place where I sat that these 
 conversations were held. 
 
 I have already given you a general idea of this 
 prison. The existing rooms, or dungeons, are 
 excavated in the rock, exactly east of the entrance 
 to the Acropolis. On the outer face of the rock 
 are still remaining the holes into which the joists 
 of the wooden part of the building were inserted. 
 One of the rooms is square, another is circular, 
 with an opening at the top. As I sat, I looked di- 
 rectly over to the front of the Parthenon and the 
 Propylaea ; on my left lay the Pnyx and the stand 
 from which Demosthenes spoke ; farther on, in
 
 THE PRISON OF SOCRATES. 223 
 
 the same direction, I just saw the corner of the 
 Temple of Theseus, the best preserved temple in 
 Athens ; to the right lay the silent plain of the 
 waterless Ilissus. The sun shone brilliantly down 
 on the Acropolis, bringing out the exquisite propor- 
 tions of the Parthenon more distinctly than I had 
 yet seen them. Beyond, rose the lofty height of 
 Lycabettus, and clouds were resting, as usual, on 
 the range of Parnes. A few fleecy vapors were 
 sailing across the distant sky and casting their 
 shadows down upon the furrowed sides of Pentel- 
 icus and Hymettus. 
 
 The hum of the city on the other side of the 
 Acropolis scarcely reached me in the prison. Far 
 and near, solitude and silence reigned, except the 
 buzzing of a bee echoing through the stony rooms, 
 the tinkling of the sheep-bells from the neighbor- 
 ing slopes of the Museion Hill, and now and then 
 the voice of a shepherd, who, with crook in hand, 
 directed the course of his flock. 
 
 From time to time, a few persons were seen 
 strolling through the Agora ; once a family fa- 
 ther, mother, and two or three children came 
 up to the prison, looked in, said a few words, 
 and passed on ; two crows flew cawing across the 
 Acropolis, over the prison, throwing their shad- 
 ows on the ground; and, finally, three armed 
 men passed between the prison and the Pnyx, 
 and were lost to sight behind the Acropolis. 
 
 To my mind, the ancient scene was more a re-
 
 224 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ality than the modern ; to me, as to Phsedon, " it 
 was the most delightful thing to call up the mem- 
 ory of Socrates," and to repeople these deserted 
 dungeons with the forms of those who shared in 
 the conversations of the two closing days. 
 
 Plato was not there. It is incidentally men- 
 tioned by one of the speakers that he was ill ; but 
 he worthily gathered up the great thoughts then 
 uttered, and has handed them down to us. He 
 tells us that Socrates discoursed of the future life 
 which was so soon to open before him. " I, O Sim- 
 mias and Cebes, were I not convinced that I shall 
 go into the presence of the wise and good gods, 
 and of departed men better than those on earth, 
 should do wrong not to be reluctant to die ; but 
 now, rest assured, I hope to join the company of 
 good men, though of this I would not be over con- 
 fident. I am confident, however, as confident as 
 I can be of anything, that I shall depart to excel- 
 lent masters, the gods ; and I am strong in the 
 hope that, after death, it will be much better with 
 the good than the wicked." With such views he 
 argues that it will be becoming in him not to es- 
 cape from the prison, and evade the sentence 
 which a court of law has pronounced against him, 
 but to submit himself with cheerful resignation, 
 and with no touch of resentment, to the voice of 
 his coTintry and the will of the gods. " It is our 
 duty," says he, " not to return an injury, nor to 
 do evil to any man, however much we may have
 
 LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 225 
 
 been wronged. This, indeed, is, and mil be, the 
 opinion of but few" What an anticipation of the 
 teachings of Christ is here ! 
 
 Then, once more, in the Phsedon, which em- 
 bodies the conversations of the last day of his life, 
 how nobly does he combat the scepticism of some 
 of his friends, who feared that at death the soul 
 would flit away, pass into nothingness, vanish like 
 smoke on a breath of air, or dissolve like har- 
 mony, when the instrument which makes it is 
 broken ! His teaching is not direct, and authori- 
 tative, like that of the Apostle on the Areopagus, 
 but drawn out with the keenest subtlety of argu- 
 ment, and expanded with a variety of illustrations 
 in which the logical intellects of the Greeks and 
 of Socrates more than all delighted to indulge. 
 
 As I read these arguments on the spot where 
 they were delivered, I seemed to hear the earnest 
 voices of this little company issuing from the in- 
 ner dungeon. I seemed to witness their assent to 
 the master's conclusions, and the half-stifled ex- 
 pressions of their agony at the thought of so soon 
 losing such a guide and such a friend. To me, as 
 to them, the argument was prolonged, and the 
 shades of approaching evening stretched over to- 
 wards the Acropolis. The sun was still on the 
 western hills, when Socrates said, " Therefore, 
 that man may be of good cheer concerning his 
 own soul, who, in his life, abandoning sensual 
 gratifications and earthly vanities as foreign to his 
 10* . o
 
 226 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 being, has cultivated the love of knowledge, and 
 adorned his soul with the befitting ornaments of 
 virtue, righteousness, courage, liberty, and truth, 
 and so awaits his departure to another world, 
 when the appointed time may call him. You, 
 my friends, each in his own time, will go thither 
 hereafter, but me Destiny is already calling, as 
 a tragedian would say, and the moment has ar- 
 rived when I must turn to the bath ; for I think 
 it better to bathe before drinking the hemlock than 
 to trouble the women to wash a corpse." 
 
 He retires to an inner apartment where he re- 
 mains a long time, while his friends converse to- 
 gether on w r hat they have heard, and on the great- 
 ness of the calamity which is to make them orphans 
 for the rest of their lives. He returns, composed 
 for death ; the fatal drag is mixed by the execu- 
 tioner, and is drunk off with a serene smile by 
 the illustrious prisoner, although Criton reminds 
 him that the sun is still upon the mountains and 
 has not yet gone down. He continues to walk 
 about as long as strength remains ; then lies down, 
 covers himself; moves once more ; the attendant 
 uncovers his face, his eyes glaze, Criton closes 
 his mouth and eyes. " Such was the death of our 
 friend, a man, as we should say, the best, the 
 wisest, and the most just, in that time, of all with 
 whom we were acquainted." 
 
 When, towards sunset, I walked away from 
 that consecrated prison, the scenes and conversa-
 
 SUNDAY IN ATHENS. 227 
 
 tions so vividly represented by Plato seemed to 
 have just taken place ; and as I looked up to the 
 Areopagus, on which the sun was still shining, I 
 seemed to hear the voice of Paul, enforcing and 
 perfecting by Divine authority the doctrines as to 
 duty and immortality toward which Socrates had 
 felt his way by the guidance of reason alone. 
 The sunlight on the Areopagus compared with the 
 shades of Socrates's prison, seemed a type of rev- 
 elation contrasted even with the best and clearest 
 deductions of the unassisted human mind. 
 
 It was singular to pass from the impressive soli- 
 tude of this part of the city of Athens, walking 
 by the ruins of the Odeion and the Theatre, and 
 noticing over the eastern end of the Acropolis the 
 upper line of the clouds that rested on Parnes, as 
 Aristophanes represents them in his play ; and to 
 meet, on the broad platform of the Temple of 
 Olympian Jupiter, the population of Athens, in 
 their gay Sunday dresses, amusing themselves h'ke 
 children, running, jumping, pitching quoits, and 
 laughing at a little donkey overloaded with a 
 dozen boys and girls stuck into panniers on his 
 sides. No contrast could be more startling ; the 
 solemn spirit of antiquity which reigns undisturbed 
 at the western end of the Acropolis, and the fri- 
 volity, levity, vanity, and idleness which strike one 
 just under the eastern extremity. 
 
 I continued my walk, pondering these things. 
 Approaching the King's palace, I overtook Mr.
 
 228 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Hill, and joined him in a stroll through the royal 
 gardens, which contain the only trees in or near 
 Athens. They were vocal with the evening song 
 of birds, and reminded me of the description of 
 the groves at Colonus, in the first chorus of the 
 (Edipus Coloneus of Sophocles. A part of the 
 foundations of the Lyceum of Aristotle is enclosed 
 in the royal grounds, and within a few years a 
 long and curious mosaic floor I think it must 
 have been the floor of a walk where the philoso- 
 pher meditated his lectures, has been discov- 
 ered. It is now enclosed, covered by an arbor, 
 and used in summer as a dining-room for the 
 royal family. 
 
 While we were in the garden the sun went 
 down, and in his departing light stood against the 
 golden sky the columns of Olympian Jupiter, the 
 Arch of Adrian, the Acropolis with the Parthe- 
 non and the Erectheium, while in the distance 
 gleamed the waters of the Phaleric Bay, a pic- 
 ture I never grow wearied with contemplating. 
 
 Hurrying to my hotel, I took a hasty dinner, 
 and at six o'clock heard a sermon in Greek, on 
 the Missionary Enterprise, by Rev. Mr. Arnold, 
 a Baptist clergyman stationed he^re. At eight 
 o'clock I attended another religious service at the 
 house of Mr. King, the sermon by Rev. Mr. 
 Lowndes from Malta, in English, and finally 
 reached my home for the night at ten o'clock.
 
 SERVICE IN THE CHURCH OF ST. DEMETRIUS. 229 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 ATHENS, November 7, 1853. 
 
 EARLY this morning I went to the church of 
 St. Demetrius, to hear a celebrated Greek 
 preacher, Metrophanes. It is a great fete day, 
 eorte, as they call it in Greek, and the whole 
 population of Athens put on their best clothes in 
 honor of so distinguished a saint. I was at the 
 church-door at eight o'clock, and had some diffi- 
 culty in getting in, till a Greek friend who was 
 with me whispered that I was an Americands, when 
 the crowd not only gave way, but some of them 
 led me to a kind of stall near the pulpit, usually 
 occupied by some ecclesiastical dignitary. The 
 chants were performing, but I cannot say that I 
 was much edified or delighted by the style of the 
 
 singing. If S is correct in supposing that 
 
 the Greek Church has preserved, in part, the an- 
 cient Dorian and ^Eolian moods, why, then I 
 must think the Dorian and JEolian moods were not 
 much better than that bit of Pindaric music which 
 you once performed, but refused to repeat. After 
 an hour and a half of this infliction on my delicate 
 musical sensibilities, varied by swinging censers 
 and perfuming the church (which needed it), and
 
 230 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 sprinkling perfumed water over the heads of the 
 people, (I had about half a pint dashed into my 
 face over my spectacles, which I was obliged to 
 take off and wipe,) a strange-looking chap, with 
 long hair hanging over his shoulders, and a gro- 
 tesque, many-colored dress, mounted the pulpit, 
 and began to chant alone. At first I thought it 
 was the sermon, and I recalled various statements 
 about the ancient fashion of pitching a tone at the 
 commencement of an oration. But I soon discov- 
 ered that he was not the preacher. 
 
 The preacher is one of the four authorized to 
 preach in Athens ; for the Greek Church very pru- 
 dently permits only a small portion of its clergy to 
 perform this function, thereby -> an arrangement 
 worth thinking of elsewhere saving the heavens 
 from a great deal of unnecessary vexation. 
 
 His Sanctity, Mr. Metrophanes, is a good-look- 
 ing man, with a fine voice and an earnest, eloquent 
 style. His sermon was excellent and practical, 
 naturally arising out of the occasion, and treating 
 of the proper use to be made of festivals. " You 
 must not pass the day in drinking, in gluttony, in 
 wantonness ; you must make it the occasicoi for 
 kindness and charity, for mutual love, and the 
 practice of all the virtues." Just at this moment 
 a crowd of Athenian women just over my head, in 
 a little gallery, began to chatter so loud, that for 
 some minutes I could not hear a word. His Sanc- 
 tity turned in the direction of the noise, stopped a
 
 DETENTION OF LETTERS. 231 
 
 moment, and then said to some lay functionary of 
 the church, " Tell those women to hold their 
 tongues, or I will come down." This, of course, 
 put an end to the disturbance, and the sermon 
 went on to the conclusion. 
 
 Returning to a late breakfast, and with an ap- 
 petite sharpened by so early a morning service, I 
 came near violating the prohibition as to gluttony ; 
 as it was, I believe I eat a whole Attic partridge. 
 
 As I was sitting in my room afterwards, I had 
 a great surprise. You must know that, when I ar- 
 rived in Athens, I took a guide, and told him to 
 show me the way to Mr. Notara, the banker's, to 
 whose care I had requested R S to for- 
 ward my letters. No letters were there. Twice 
 since have I called, no letters there ; and I began 
 to think the powers that be must have found some- 
 thing treasonable, and so detained them. There 
 was no help but a patient waiting for the next 
 Austrian steamer. A knock at my door. " Come 
 in." An elderly gentleman appears, with a pack- 
 age in his hand. I recognize R S 's 
 
 writing, and the address to Mr. Notara. El- 
 derly gentleman informs me in bad French that 
 he has had the letter for ten days, but not know- 
 ing where I was to be found, until he accidentally 
 heard from Dr. King to-day, had of course kept it. 
 " Are you Mr. Notara ? " said I. " Oui, Mon- 
 sieur." I was utterly perplexed. I had seen Mr. 
 Notara three or four times, and had struck up some-
 
 232 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 thing like an intimacy with him ; and here was 
 another gentleman claiming to be Mr. Notara, and 
 handing me the long-looked-for letters from home. 
 The mystery was cleared up by a little expla- 
 nation. My guide had carried me to the wrong 
 banker, either by a blunder, or because he thought 
 one banker as good as another, and I took it for 
 granted all along that the obliging friend whose 
 acquaintance I had made was Mr. Notara. 
 
 November 8. - 1 had written so far, when Mr. 
 Hill called to ride with me as far as Daphne, a 
 village on the way to Eleusis. It was a singularly 
 beautiful afternoon. We rode from the city out 
 to the olive-groves which occupy the plain cover- 
 ing the spot where Plato's Academy once stood. 
 The trees have suffered some injury ; but they still 
 form the most prominent feature of this part of 
 Attica, and, being so constantly referred to by the 
 ancient writers, are objects of interest in the land- 
 scape beyond any other trees that could be placed 
 there. We had the Acropolis and the Temple of 
 Theseus on our left, with a distant view of the 
 sea, and on our right the Academy, and Colonus, 
 the birthplace of Sophocles and the scene of one 
 of his noblest tragedies. This height is now sur- 
 mounted by a monument to K. O. Miiller, who 
 died from a sun-stroke received while imprudently 
 exposing himself at Delphi. This gives an addi- 
 tional interest, in the eyes of the classical scholar, 
 to a spot already famous.
 
 THE ATTIC PLAIN AT SUNSET. 233 
 
 The picture around us, as we galloped across 
 the plain, was not only lovely in the extreme, 
 but crowded with historical associations, from the 
 mythical times down to the present moment. 
 Mount ^Egaleos, where Xerxes sat to watch the 
 battle of Salamis, the strait itself, and the island, 
 in one direction, Phyle and Mount Parnes in the 
 other, all lovely under the brilliant light of an au- 
 tumnal sun, seemed to bring history and poetry 
 visibly before us. The road wound along the 
 eastern end of JEgaleos, into a hilly and most pic- 
 turesque region, and in about an hour we reached 
 Daphne. Here the view that suddenly opened 
 combined every element of picturesque and asso- 
 ciated interest. The hills on the right were 
 clothed with the delicate purple veil, so often seen 
 in this country ; on the left, the descending sun 
 threw ./Egaleos into deep shade ; through the vista 
 opened before us, between the hills, lay, calm and 
 soft, the inner bay of Eleusis and the end of the 
 island, and beyond rose the mountains of Megara 
 robed in deep, rich purple. I could have looked 
 on this picture of natural beauty for hours. Even- 
 ing was approaching, and orange, purple, and 
 golden lines shot across the western sky, and bent 
 over a scene of varied loveliness unsurpassed by 
 anything the imagination can conceive. 
 
 We turned our horses' heads towards Athens. 
 In a short time we came in sight of the Attic plain, 
 with the dark-green line of olive-plantations, the
 
 234 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Acropolis painting its columns upon the sky, and 
 the west pouring its liquid gold, until the entire 
 plain and the air itself seemed filled with its 
 splendor. The colors of sunset, shifting with 
 every passing moment, faded away, and the cres- 
 cent moon, with her attendant stars, came out into 
 this soft Attic heaven, tipping the mountain sum- 
 mits and the ancient temples with her silver light. 
 Beyond the city Mount Hymettus rose, colored as 
 I had never seen it or any other mountain before. 
 A delicate veil of blue had been carefully thrown 
 over it, not concealing its form in the least, but 
 softening its rugged features, as if the mountain 
 itself were preparing for the repose of night, from 
 the excitements of the day. 
 
 Under this light, with the summer-like air 
 breathing around us, we galloped across the At- 
 tic plain, through the olive-groves, into the busy 
 streets of Athens, and so with dinner and the 
 evening's study ended the day. 
 
 Thursday, November 10. I believe I have not 
 yet given you an account of my manner of life 
 here among the Athenians. Well, there are only 
 two good streets in Athens : one is Hermes Street, 
 where the King lives, and the other is the street of 
 jEolus, where I live. I have taken a room in the 
 Hotel d'Angleterre, which looks first upon an en- 
 closed ' garden where the birds sing every morn- 
 ing ; then towards the left on Lycabettus, a moun-
 
 COLLOQUIAL GREEK. 235 
 
 tain that overhangs the city ; and, finally, on nearly 
 the whole range of Hymettus, where the bees 
 make their honey, as in the time of Plato. I see 
 the sun rise over Hymettus every morning, and 
 at evening he casts his last beams directly on the 
 garden beneath me. My room is quiet, but not 
 far from the hotel is a soldiers' barrack, and I 
 have almost every day the benefit of a lesson in 
 Greek, by listening to the words of command, in 
 the drill. A young Greek teacher, who speaks 
 French very imperfectly, and no other language 
 at all except Greek, comes to me at seven o'clock 
 in the morning, and spends about an hour and a 
 half. At nine I go to the University, and hear a 
 lecture on ancient Greece by Professor Asopios, 
 an old and very learned gentleman, whose language 
 is not only elegant, but lively and eloquent. He 
 speaks too rapidly for me to follow him, but I un- 
 derstand a considerable part of what he says, and 
 daily understand more. Then I generally study 
 three or four hours, reading and writing the best 
 modern Greek I can. I have attended only one 
 debate in the legislature, but the new session is to 
 be opened to-morrow, and I shall try to be pres- 
 ent, and to attend often afterwards. 
 
 The hardest exercise I have had in Greek was 
 to make out a list of clothes for the washerwoman. 
 The ancients had no shirts to their backs, but the 
 moderns have, and they have made a very good 
 word for the thing ; but what an under-waistcoat
 
 236 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 should be called went beyond me. However, T 
 constructed an excellent classical term (hypochi- 
 tori). When the waiter came in, I gave him the 
 bundle and the list. My hypochiton was heathen 
 Greek to him ; he could not make it out in the 
 least. I showed him the article, and he exclaimed, 
 " ! O ! fanella, fanella I " So it is, that we go 
 to remote and learned sources for what lies very 
 near at hand. 
 
 A few days ago, I had occasion to go to a tai- 
 lor's. My wardrobe, like the Acropolis, has suf- 
 fered some dilapidations by the wear and tear of 
 time, and needed, like the temples, a little res- 
 toration. My frock-coat was out at the elbows, 
 and my pantaloons were a little ragged about 
 the feet, and a trifle threadbare at the knees. I 
 addressed the tailor in Attic and Xenophontic 
 Greek on the subject of periskelides, and the ne- 
 cessity of mending them. He understood me 
 readily, being a raptes (tailor) of education ; but 
 when he took the garment in hand, he told me 
 he would send back " to pantalon " the next day. 
 
 There is an Irishwoman in the city, married to 
 a Greek. Her boy goes to school, but she com- 
 plains that he begins to use language she cannot 
 understand. Her own dialect is an Hibernian 
 Greek. The common word for water is meron; 
 the classical word hydor ; and when the boy comes 
 home thirsty he calls for hydor, to her great 
 amazement.
 
 SOCIETY IN ATHENS. 237 
 
 A few such instances occur, but, in general, 
 nothing has surprised me more than the excel- 
 lence of the language and the purity with which 
 it is spoken, not only in the pulpit and the pro- 
 fessor's chair, but in society. My ear is not yet 
 sufficiently accustomed to the rapidity of conver- 
 sation, but it is becoming so. 
 
 The watchmen in the. streets use very good 
 Greek. Coming home the other evening, about 
 eleven o'clock, I was saluted by the usual ques- 
 tion, * Tis ei f " " Who art thou ? " the very 
 question, by the way, that Anacreon puts to the 
 dove. The answer to be given is " Kaltis" which 
 in ancient Greek generally means a handsome fel- 
 low. Well, I gave the answer, but, immediately 
 remembering my French portrait, I rejoiced that 
 the night covered up the monstrous lie I had to 
 tell. This tenderness of conscience lasted, how- 
 ever, but a short time, and now, when the skopos, 
 or watchman, asks me who I am, I tell him, with- 
 out the slightest hesitation, that I am a halo's, 
 though the falsehood grows greater every day. 
 He believes me, and I pass on. 
 
 My letters have procured me a very agreeable 
 reception. Some of the best among the Greeks 
 professors, officials, and members of the legislature 
 have been very attentive and kind. I have the 
 free use of the University library, which is really 
 a very good one, and Mr. Pittakys, the conserva- 
 tor of antiquities, has given me free admission to 
 the Acropolis for a year.
 
 238 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 The Americans stationed here are all hospi- 
 tality. At the house of Mr. Hill I am always 
 sure to find an agreeable society of Americans and 
 Greeks, or travellers that come this way ; and Mr. 
 Wyse, the English Minister, for my acquaintance 
 
 with whom I am indebted to Mr. W , has 
 
 given me a general invitation to take tea at his 
 house, and use his library as much as I please. I 
 find him not only a man of solid learning, but of 
 rare accomplishments, and of very remarkable con- 
 versational powers. Mr. Finlay (whose works, 
 you know, I have found useful) has given me a 
 very handsome dinner, and paid me every other 
 attention that could be useful or agreeable. 
 
 Last evening I took tea at the palace, with Dr. 
 Roeser, the King's physician, an old university 
 friend of Agassiz, whom he knew at Munich, and 
 who was delighted to hear about him. It has 
 been proposed to me to be presented, especially on 
 account of a great ball soon to be given by the 
 court ; but as this will involve a new pair of gloves, 
 and perhaps a cravat, I hesitate. To-day the 
 Doctor took me over the palace, which is really 
 ' very handsome, but just like all the other Euro- 
 pean palaces, and quite too large for so small a 
 country. 
 
 Yesterday I walked out to the Academy and 
 Colonus. At the latter spot I read the (Edipus 
 Coloneus of Sophocles entirely through. Cer- 
 tainly this is the most exquisite of his pieces. I
 
 ATTIC SCENERY. 239 
 
 wish you would read the translation (Dale's), 
 and imagine how it would strike you, if read on 
 the top of white Colonus, with the whole city of 
 Athens in view, and the site of the temple of the 
 Furies, where (Edipus mysteriously died, opening 
 a dark chasm into which he may readily be imag- 
 ined to have vanished from mortal sight. 
 
 The bright Attic sun, the olive-groves still cov- 
 ering the Academy, the birds singing (though not 
 the nightingale, so beautifully described in the 
 splendid choral ode), the Acropolis, the Theban 
 road still passing by the foot of the hill, revive the 
 scenes of Sophocles, though the groves of Colonus, 
 and the Temples of Neptune and Prometheus, 
 have disappeared. There is but one tree on the 
 hill ; but the soil is filled with bits of marble, 
 the crumbling fragments of former splendor. 
 
 I have been many times to the Acropolis, and I 
 believe there is not a street of modern Athens 
 which I have not more than once traversed. I find 
 my way better here than in Boston. As to the 
 principal remains of the ancient city, I needed no 
 guide on the first day of my arrival. There is at 
 present no sojourner in the city with whom I can 
 hope to make arrangements for travelling in the 
 Peloponnesus. 
 
 I continue to find myself very well placed in 
 Athens, and hope to derive great benefit in my 
 future studies from this visit. I have now been 
 here between two and three weeks. As yet I am
 
 240 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the only American traveller in the city, and I do 
 not believe there will be many, if any, here this 
 winter ; but I have already formed a very agree- 
 able circle of acquaintance, Greek, English, and 
 American. 
 
 Mr. Marsh has left in Athens, among the best 
 people, a profound impression of his ability, learn- 
 ing, firmness, and good sense. I am glad to know 
 this, because I heard in Germany stories tending 
 to a different view. 
 
 I do not find that there is any evidence of Mr. 
 King's having violated the constitution by open 
 attempts at proselyting, or by any outrages upon 
 the religious feelings of the Greeks ; and some of 
 the evidence given against him on his trial was 
 notoriously forged by a rascal named Simonides, 
 who was detected afterwards in an attempt to pass 
 off a quantity of his own manuscripts for ancient 
 documents, found at Mount Athos. Such a vil- 
 lain was allowed to testify. 
 
 I am fully convinced, from all that I have seen 
 and heard here, that the prosecution was one of 
 the most frivolous and perfidious attempts ever 
 made to put down a man, who, though personally 
 offensive by his well-known opinions, was wholly 
 innocent, in a legal and moral point of view ; 
 and that the accounts transmitted to Mr. Skhi- 
 nas, at Munich, were colored and exaggerated by 
 Greek mendacity, as notorious now as it was in 
 the days of the Romans. I have carefully exam-
 
 GREEK POLITICS. 241 
 
 ined the constitution, in reference to the charges 
 against Mr. King, and I have come to the same 
 conclusion with Mr. Marsh. But I believe it to 
 have been an affair of the priesthood, not of the 
 government. 
 
 The politics of Greece are in the queerest state 
 in the world. The elections have recently taken 
 place in Athens. I attended the hustings, and 
 was greatly amused by the process. A vote-dis- 
 tributor, taking me for an Athenian, gave me the 
 government ticket, which I put into my pocket. 
 The most curious thing is, that, before a single 
 deputy has been returned from the provinces, the 
 new session is opened. 
 
 I attended the ceremony. It consisted of a re- 
 ligious service, chanted, the administering of the 
 oath, the declaration that the session was opened, 
 and a few cries of " Live the King." 
 
 There were two or three members of the lower 
 house, and about as many senators, present. The 
 service, amusingly enough, happened to contain a 
 passage signifying, " Fear ye not, O Greeks, be- 
 cause ye are few." There was a great parade of 
 the military, and strains of martial music gave 
 notice of the successive steps in the grand per- 
 formance. 
 
 I asked a gentleman how the chamber, not 
 
 yet elected, and therefore not existing, could be 
 
 opened. He said that the constitution required 
 
 it on that particular day, but that the elections 
 
 11 r
 
 242 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 had been retarded by the length of the previous 
 session. " Yes," I said, " it is constitutional, but 
 impossible." He admitted the practical contra- 
 diction ; but this is just the way the government 
 tampers with the constitution, and turns it into a 
 farce. There is great discontent, and you hear in 
 private society the plainest language. An out- 
 break here would not in the least surprise me, at 
 any moment. Should it happen, the Bavarians 
 would get marching orders at once. These things 
 one cannot help observing. I have not gone out 
 of my way to hear them, my objects here being 
 wholly literary ; but I cannot shut my ears. 
 
 Since my last letter I have ascended Mount 
 Pentelicus, the highest mountain in Attica. 
 You may easily imagine the magnificence of the 
 view, when I tell you that on the west we saw 
 the whole Attic plain, with the city, and, beyond, 
 not only the sea, with Salamis and ^Egina, but 
 the shores and mountains of Peloponnesus ; on the 
 north, Mounts ^Egaleos and Parnes ; on the east, 
 the whole plain of Marathon, and the bay, strait, 
 and opposite highlands of Euboea ; on the south, 
 the great plain called Mesogaea, with the Lameian 
 hills in the distance ; Hymettus on the southwest ; 
 and on the southeast, Sunium, the blue Mediter- 
 ranean shore ; so that we had, in one magnificent 
 panorama, the whole of Attica, and its surround- 
 ing seas and islands, with distant and beautiful 
 views of the neighboring provinces.
 
 CONTEMPLATED JOURNEY. 243 
 
 Pentelicus is renowned the world over for its 
 exquisite marble. The old quarries, from which 
 so many temples and statues sprang to life, still 
 show the traces of the ancient workmen. A curi- 
 ous cavern leads into the centre />f the mountain, 
 its roof of marble hanging in all directions with 
 stalactites. Its mouth is large, high, and spacious, 
 but as it descends, it narrows until one is obliged 
 to crawl, holding a lighted candle, to see where he 
 is going. It ends in deep water, from which, doubt- 
 less, the ancient laborers in the quarries drank. 
 
 We galloped back to Athens about three 
 o'clock. I am becoming, of necessity, a centaur. 
 The horses here are so accustomed to climbing, 
 that, when they reach a level spot, away they dash, 
 on a gallop, rather alarming to an elderly gentle- 
 man, who has been out of practice for twenty 
 years. However, I illustrate the growth of the 
 ancient myth about the Centaur Chiron. You 
 would be astonished, I dare say, to see me tearing 
 over the soil of Attica, and raising a greater dust 
 than I shall ever raise in America. The only 
 mode of travelling, except on two or three short 
 roads out of Athens, is on horseback ; and to- 
 morrow I start for a ten days' journey, to visit 
 Thebes, Eleusis, Argos, Mycenae, &c., &c. I 
 shall write you on the journey, but whether it will 
 be possible to post my letters before I return, I do 
 not know. I have much to tell you ; but it is long 
 after midnight, and we start early to-morrow.
 
 244 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 SIELISI, November 15, 1853. 
 
 YOUR geography may not be quite sufficient 
 to tell you exactly where I am at the pres- 
 ent moment of writing. If so, I will endeavor to 
 help you out of the difficulty. I posted a letter 
 for you, scribbled in the haste of preparation for 
 a journey, at Athens. The day was interesting 
 there on account of a great public ceremony, at 
 the funeral of a brother of Marco Botzaris, a dis- 
 tinguished man, and a senator of Greece. 
 
 Dr. Roeser told me, a few days ago, that there 
 was to be a splendid funeral ceremony in a few 
 days. I inquired who was dead. " No one," he 
 replied, " but Senator Botzaris is going to die to- 
 morrow." I was struck by the professional cool- 
 ness of his statement, but soon forgot it in other 
 things that occupied my mind. Yesterday I ac- 
 cidentally heard of the ceremony, and, walking 
 down the street of JEolos, overtook the procession 
 just as it was entering the church of St. Eirdne. 
 The great officers of state, the leading ecclesias- 
 tics, with the Bishop of Athens, the officers of the 
 army, and a large body of soldiers, accompanied 
 the body.
 
 FUNERAL OF BOTZARIS. 245 
 
 A long funeral service was chanted. Then a 
 discourse was delivered by Mr. Argyropoulos, an 
 eminent Athenian scholar, and last year Presi- 
 dent of the University. The body lay uncovered, 
 surrounded with military insignia, a plumed cap 
 placed on the breast. After the eulogy was over, 
 the procession formed again, and we followed the 
 old hero out of Athens, over the Ilissus, leaving 
 the Temple of Jupiter on the left and the Acrop- 
 olis on the right. 
 
 The heavens were overcast, and seemed to sym- 
 pathize with the melancholy pageant ; and as we 
 passed the ruins of the Temple of Jupiter, and 
 I looked at the few standing columns, and one 
 recently prostrated by a violent tempest, all 
 weather-stained and shattered, I thought they 
 were typical of the few surviving heroes of the 
 revolution, and of the one just fallen. He was 
 borne by men who relieved one another, his 
 strongly marked face looking up to the overcast 
 sky, his moustache and hair grizzled with age, and 
 his features emaciated by long sickness. The 
 burying-ground lies at a considerable distance 
 from the city. At the tomb another service was 
 chanted, and then, when the mortal remains of 
 the last of the brothers of Botzaris were deposited 
 in their resting-place, three volleys were fired by 
 the soldiery, and the crowd dispersed. 
 
 We returned by the Ilissus and the Callirrhoe^; 
 and as I looked up to the stained and hoary col-
 
 246 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 umns of the Acropolis, the gray rocks on which 
 they stand, and the clouds shrouding the light of 
 Attica, I thought the funeral pomp of old Time 
 and coeval Nature vastly more impressive than 
 any ceremonies of man. 
 
 This morning, the hills of Attica were still 
 clothed in heavy mist, and my companion a 
 
 young Englishman who resembles S C 
 
 so much, that I took to him immediately and 
 I hesitated about setting out. But after eating a 
 hearty breakfast, we bade defiance to the clouds, 
 mounted our Thessalian steeds, and, like the gallant 
 knights in Spenser, " pricked across the plain." 
 
 Our guide is Strattis, the most experienced of 
 his tribe in Athens. Our troupe consists of Strat- 
 tis as commander-iii-chief, Mr. C and myself, 
 
 and three mules carrying luggage, cooking appa- 
 ratus, chairs, table, beds, and provisions. The con- 
 dition of Greece is still such that this is the only 
 possible mode of travelling ; the most you can de- 
 pend on getting is a room, with a fireplace and 
 bare walls. 
 
 The air was soft, though moist, and the mist and 
 clouds on the marble hills rolled about like tossing 
 waves of the sea. We took the road to Panics, 
 the wildest and most picturesque of the passes be- 
 tween Attica and Boeotia. We rode between 
 Colonus and the olive-groves of the Academy, on 
 the one hand, and the Queen's summer-house on 
 the other. As we moved slowly along, we were
 
 THE PASS OF PHYLE. 247 
 
 saluted by a chorus of birds, among them a 
 single nightingale, which quite reminded me of 
 Aristophanes. On one of the distant slopes was 
 feeding an immense flock of sheep, tended by a 
 shepherd, who charmed his weary hours exactly 
 like the shepherds of Theocritus, by playing rustic 
 airs upon his reedy pipe. 
 
 The next sight we encountered was less agreea- 
 ble, though perhaps more romantic, four klephts, 
 or robbers, led, bound, by a strong detachment of 
 troops, who had just taken them in the mountains 
 we were on the point of traversing. We congrat- 
 ulated ourselves that the arrest was made this 
 morning rather than to-morrow, though it would 
 have helped the interest of the journey to meet 
 the ferocious-looking fellow who appeared to be 
 the leader of the band, face to face, on the rocky 
 heights of Parnes. 
 
 The Pass of Phyle reminds me of the Alps, so 
 wild, so massive, and so rugged are the piles of 
 rock that rise on either side. They are not so 
 high nor so precipitous as the Alps, and the im- 
 mense quantity of marble mixed with other rocks 
 takes from them the sombre solemnity of the Swiss 
 mountains. The path is very winding, and runs 
 along the sloping side ; but there are no moun- 
 tain streams, at this season, to blend with the 
 wind and fill the ear with their united voices. 
 
 Gradually we rose towards the summit of the 
 pass, stopping to eat bread and honey at an an-
 
 248 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 cient monastery, where there is a monk a hun- 
 dred years old. The honey was excellent, resem- 
 bling that of Hymettus. The old gentlemen were 
 very curious to hear the news from the world be- 
 low, and when we told them of our having seen 
 the klephts, they said it was only yesterday that 
 the same gang had been at the monastery, and de- 
 manded bread and wine. 
 
 We went through several beautiful forests of 
 pine, and the winds murmuring through the 
 branches sounded like the roaring of the Helles- 
 pont along the shores of Troy. The scene from 
 the summits of the mountains was superb ; the 
 clouds were sweeping over them, and rolling and 
 surging like the ocean in a storm ; while here and 
 there a break let in the sunlight on some distant 
 peak, or on the rugged side of a mountain. For 
 a few moments we had a view of the plain of 
 Athens, from the ancient fortress that still sur- 
 mounts " the brow of Phyle," where Thrasybulus 
 and his companions in exile assembled previously 
 to their attack upon the Thirty Tyrants. 
 
 From this grand old work of Grecian skill we 
 continued our journey, at first mostly descending, 
 then crossing an extensive plain which must have 
 been the bed of a lake, and at its northern ex- 
 tremity ascending a slope, on which the celebrated 
 town or hamlet of Sielisi is built. In fact, we are 
 just on the confines of Attica and Boeotia. We 
 are at a khan, or rather a private house used as a
 
 THE KHAN OF SIELISI. 249 
 
 khan, and were so fortunate as to arrive just be- 
 fore the Bishop of Thebes and his retinue went 
 away. His Sanctity a venerable and kind- 
 hearted man is on a tour through his diocese to 
 comfort the poor people, who are frightened out of 
 their wits by the earthquakes that have recently 
 made such ravages in Greece. Thebes has been 
 laid in ruins ; houses in Athens have been dam- 
 aged, and the house in which we are now quar- 
 tered for the night has been terribly shaken, as its 
 cracked walls testify. It was curious to see the 
 assembly of men, women, and children waiting to 
 kneel before the Bishop and receive his blessing ; 
 and his leave-taking was really very touching. 
 He met us courteously, told us of the misfortunes 
 of Thebes, and expressed his regret that he could 
 not stay longer with us. 
 
 Well, here we are, in a house without a single 
 pane of glass ; the upper story, of two rooms, oc- 
 cupied by us and the family, and the rooms below 
 by the animals, or, as a Yankee would call them, 
 the critters. Nevertheless, our guide, aided by 
 the cook, 1ms given us a dinner of three courses, 
 excellent pillau, cutlets, fried potatoes, roast 
 chicken, pudding, figs, dates, almonds, and cafe 
 noir, as good as you can get at the best restau- 
 rant in Paris. I think we shall rough it pretty 
 well. Good night. 
 
 11*
 
 250 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 LEUCTRA, November 16. 
 
 I BADE you good night at a little hamlet on 
 the confines of Attica and Boeotia. After a 
 sound night's sleep, in our homely quarters, at 
 the house of an Albanian peasant (whose two little 
 daughters I made happy by giving each a copper 
 coin worth two cents), we mounted our Thessalian 
 chargers, and, followed by our quiet little dog Wal- 
 nut, entered the territory of Boeotia. The de- 
 scent was rocky and rugged, and the riding hard ; 
 but by and by we reached the Boeotian plains, so 
 much more fruitful than those of Attica. We 
 soon came in full sight of Helicon, with a dim out- 
 line of Parnassus in the distance, and Cithasron 
 just on our left. And so over hill and valley we 
 went, sometimes walking and sometimes galloping 
 like the wind. 
 
 At length, about noon, as we were passing be- 
 tween two hills, suddenly the Acropolis of Thebes 
 came in sight, in the centre of an extensive plain, 
 with a circle of beautiful hills encompassing it. I 
 was surprised by the beauty of the situation, which 
 has had no justice done to it by travellers. To me 
 it was deeply interesting, not only as the birthplace
 
 THEBES. 251 
 
 of Pindar, but as one of the centres of poetical tra- 
 dition, around which so many tragic stories turn. 
 On yonder hill stood the Sphinx, and gave the 
 fatal riddle which cost so many their lives. 
 
 Thebes has been an unfortunate city, even from 
 the mythical time of OEdipus. Philip took it ; Al- 
 exander destroyed it ; and now, this last summer, 
 a terrible earthquake has almost prostrated it. 
 
 We entered near the river Ismenus, and, stop- 
 ping to look at the springs that feed it, we saw 
 the Theban nymphs washing clothes. They were 
 standing knee-deep in the water, in a costume of 
 the most classical brevity and simplicity. My 
 horse had a fancy to walk into the stream. I did 
 not object to it ; but when he got in, he liked it so 
 well, that he lay down and rolled, with me on his 
 back. I sprang off as quickly as I could, but not 
 quickly enough to escape a handsome ducking. I 
 had, however, the consolation of reflecting that it 
 was in the Ismenian fountain, one of the most 
 classical waters in Greece; and, all dripping, I 
 pulled the horse out and remounted. We drove 
 directly up to the Acropolis, and, stopping at the 
 principal hotel, left our horses and walked round 
 to see this once famous town. The ruins caused 
 by the earthquake have been partially repaired, 
 but many of the houses are in a shattered and un- 
 inhabitable condition. The houseless inhabitants 
 have either fled to Athens, or taken up their abode 
 in tents outside of the city.
 
 252 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 The gallop over the plain of Thebes to Plataea, 
 with Cithaeron just before us, was one of the most 
 inspiring we have yet had. We arrived in an 
 hour and a half at the remains of the ancient 
 walls, rode entirely round them, and recalled the 
 great defeat of the Persians on the plain, and the 
 memorable siege sustained by the city against 
 the Spartans, and so powerfully described by 
 Thucydides. 
 
 Thence we rode to Leuctra, having Cithseron 
 behind us and Helicon directly in front. The 
 day has been a somewhat wild one, with sun- 
 shine part of the time, and shifting masses of 
 clouds careering over the hills, beautiful, sol- 
 emn, and melancholy, - solitudes where once peo- 
 pled cities flourished ; flocks of sheep picking the 
 scanty grass between the piles of stone out of 
 which ancient walls and towers were made. In 
 some places we galloped over the sites o/ great 
 towns, where the plough is now drawn. 
 
 Just before leaving Athens I had attended the 
 funeral of Botzaris. On entering Thebes I stop- 
 ped at the ruined church of St. Luke to see an 
 ancient sarcophagus. There was a fresh grave 
 open, with the coffin already there. When we 
 reached the Acropolis, the first sound we heard 
 was the funeral chant, and the first sight that met 
 our eyes was the procession with the corpse, wind- 
 ing down to the church. These melancholy pomps, 
 and the wildly drifting clouds on the mountains,
 
 SOMBRE BCEOTIAN SCENERY. 253 
 
 brought up, with extraordinary impressiveness, the 
 Klephtic lines : 
 
 " Why are the mountains shadowed o'er ? Why stand they dark 
 
 ened grimly 1 
 
 Is it a tempest warring there, or rain-storm beating on them ? 
 It is no tempest warring there, no rain-storm beating on them, 
 But Charon sweeping over them, and with him the departed." 
 
 Riding over the mountains, the only way of 
 travelling here, one not only understands the con- 
 version of Charon the boatman into Charon the 
 horseman, but cannot help feeling the extraordi- 
 nary solemnity of the scenery, which so naturally 
 suggested the associated conceptions. It is curi- 
 ous how the studies of one's lifetime take form 
 and substance as he travels over the consecrated 
 ground of history and poetry. My wanderings in 
 Europe have been constantly haunted by the great 
 figures my mind has grown acquainted with in lit- 
 erature. Like the shadowy hosts in Napoleon's 
 midnight review, they come, and from nearly as 
 many and as distant burying-places in the mem- 
 ory. It is now after nine o'clock, and so good 
 ntght.
 
 254 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 DRACHMANO, November 18. 
 
 I INTENDED to write every evening, through 
 my present journey. My date last evening 
 would have been Lebadeia. But the best inten- 
 tions are often frustrated by inexorable Destiny, 
 as you will learn. 
 
 Yesterday morning we left Leuctra, with the 
 clouds hanging over Helicon, and showery Jove 
 threatening to interfere with human projects. 
 However, the view was superb, and after a rough 
 and stony ride up hill and down, we came upon 
 a lovely plain, covered with flocks and Herds. 
 Then, winding up the myrtle-covered sides of Hel- 
 icon to the fountain of Aganippe, near which, in 
 an old church, is an inscription on an ancient col- 
 umn, showing that here the Muses once used to 
 come, and in a "basin below bathe their celestial 
 bodies, we drank of the fountain and rode away. 
 
 As we crossed a lower point of Helicon, and 
 came in full sight of Parnassus, the travelling 
 grew rougher and rougher. Gray says : 
 
 " From Helicon's harmonious springs 
 A thousand rills their mazy progress take."
 
 THE COPAIC PLAIN. 255 
 
 One of these streams had taken its mazy course 
 directly across our path ; had worn a channel, and 
 then run off and left it dry. It was necessary to 
 cross it. Our horses are generally sure-footed, but 
 no sureness of foot is proof against slippery mud ; 
 and so down went my gallant Thessalian, pitching 
 me head foremost over to the opposite bank. My 
 hat, already the victim of circumstances, was dam- 
 aged; my knee was considerably bruised; my side 
 was pommelled, and, what was more irreparable, 
 my old frock-coat the faithful companion of so 
 many journeys was not only covered with mud, 
 but rent at the left elbow. Think of my condi- 
 tion, on the slope of Helicon, in sight of Par- 
 nassus, and out at the elbows. 
 
 On we journeyed, through gorges of magnificent 
 beauty, where murmuring streams answered the 
 oak and the whispering plane-tree, and Nymphs 
 and Dryads have scarcely ceased their sports. 
 
 The trees had put on their autumnal colors, as 
 varied and brilliant as those of an American forest ; 
 while the marble summits, rising on either side 
 above the zone of cedars that encircles their waist 
 with a belt of green, closed in the picture with a 
 sculptured frame, contrasting with the many- 
 tinted picture within. 
 
 At length we descended the last slope, on the 
 northeast, towards the Copaic plain, one of the 
 most remarkable in Boeotia. Looking back on 
 Helicon, and off to the left on the scarcely visible
 
 256 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Parnassus, we saw the clouds thickening, and 
 showery Jove more ominous and threatening. 
 Thunders began to roll, and lightning to play 
 about the distant summits. We hastened to a 
 village called Cotumala, and stopped at the prin- 
 cipal house it contained, thinking we would lunch 
 there, and wait until the coming shower had passed. 
 
 In we went, and in a few minutes our lunch, 
 consisting of a cold boiled egg and a bit of bread, 
 was laid on a circular table six inches high, with 
 coarse rugs and cushions round it. We lay 
 down lay to, I might literally say and ate ; 
 and while we ate, the thunder and lightning raged 
 with fearful violence, and the showers came down 
 like another Deucalion's deluge, which, you know, 
 happened just about in these parts. In a few 
 moments the mountain torrents began to rush 
 down with a roar and a fury quite inconceivable 
 in our country. It was plain we could get no 
 farther. 
 
 Let me tell you what sort of a house it was. 
 Remember, it was quite superior to the average 
 of houses throughout Greece. The walls were of 
 baked clay, and over these was laid the wooden 
 roof, running up to a ridge-pole. There was one 
 story only, and only one apartment. In the mid- 
 dle was a depression in the floor ; the floor being 
 made of earth mixed with straw. This lower por- 
 tion of the room was occupied by the animals, 
 horses, cows, &cu Towards the end of the upper
 
 NIGHT AT COTUMALA. 257 
 
 portion was raised a circle, on which a fire was 
 made, and the food was cooked. The smoke 
 found its way up to the roof, and meandered in 
 graceful curls among the timbers, some of it es- 
 caping, in the course of time, through the cracks, 
 which served the double purpose of letting out the 
 smoke and letting in the rain. Glass windows 
 were not. Openings in the wall, closed by wood- 
 en panels when necessary, were the primitive com- 
 munications with the light of heaven. 
 
 The family consisted of father, mother, ^unt, 
 and four children ; the youngest a baby, rocking 
 in a cradle or trough. The mother, like Nausicaa 
 in the Odyssey, had gone to the fountain to wash 
 the clothes of the week ; the father was about his 
 farm ; the aunt was keeping the children quiet, 
 and spinning, not with a wheel, but with merely 
 a spindle, whirling it on the ground, in Homeric 
 fashion, with her hand. 
 
 After luncheon, I lay down at full length, with 
 my feet towards the fire, and, being a good deal 
 exhausted with my Heliconian tumble, fell fast 
 asleep. When I awoke, the mother had returned, 
 completely drenched, and was changing her dress. 
 
 Well, here we were to stay for the night. It 
 was an embarrassing circumstance that our lug- 
 gage bag, baggage, and provisions, beds, chairs, 
 and table had all gone forward to Lebadeia. As 
 the people had no beds, there were no bed-rooms ; 
 as they sat on the ground, there were no chairs ; 
 
 Q
 
 258 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 as they ate with their fingers, there were no knives 
 and forks. Never mind. " Justice," says JEs- 
 chylus, " often flies from gilded splendors, and 
 takes up her abode in smoky houses " ; and we 
 were exactly in the condition of Justice, with some 
 wonder, to be sure, at her ladyship's taste. 
 
 Besides the family, here were Strattis (our 
 guide, a Lesbian, and therefore the countryman of 
 Sappho), Walnut the dog, Mr. C and my- 
 self, and three horses, all to sleep in the same 
 room, all to be fed. Strattis reconnoitred the 
 village, and returned with a chicken. The good 
 mother tipped the baby out of the trough, and 
 poured some Indian meal in, which she kneaded 
 into a mighty loaf, and then, burying it in the em- 
 bers, baked it well. The chicken was put into a 
 kettle, and that was set on a tripod, (just as Ho- 
 iner describes,) and boiled ; and " when they had 
 cooked the food, and skilfully prepared the feast," 
 the table was spread, and " we stretched forth our 
 hands to the things that were lying before us." 
 
 Do you think the bread was not good ? Preju- 
 diced mortal, I never ate better. But when the 
 sacred rage of hunger was appeased, we bethought 
 
 ourselves of sleep. C the Englishman, 
 
 F the American, Strattis the Lesbian, and 
 
 Walnut the dog, lay on a carpet, on the ground, 
 on one side of the fire ; the family on the other ; 
 the horses stood below, and the god descended to 
 close our eyes in soft slumbers.
 
 LEBADEIA AND CHJiRONEIA. 259 
 
 We started early this morning, and without 
 breakfast ; rode three hours to Lebadeia ; bathed, 
 breakfasted, and visited the cave of Trophonius ; 
 galloped on to Chasroneia, where Philip destroyed 
 the forces of Thebes and Athens ; rode over the 
 field ; saw the colossal lion, once on the mound 
 of the Thebans, now lying, weather-beaten, with 
 his noble face turned to heaven, as I saw the 
 dead Botzaris the other day ; rode up to the an- 
 cient theatre in the hillside, and the church 
 where they preserve Plutarch's marble chair ; and 
 then, skirting the eastern side of Parnassus, which 
 rose clear and lofty over us all the way, reached 
 this spot at nightfall. As it is growing late', and 
 there is prospect of better sleep to-night than the 
 last, I will say good night.
 
 260 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THERMOPYLAE, November 19, 1863. 
 
 WELL, here we are on the ground sacred 
 to'Leonidas and the three hundred Spar- 
 tans ; within ten feet of the hot springs from which 
 this famous pass takes its name. 
 
 We left the village of Drachmano this morning, 
 with heavy clouds threatening to accompany us on 
 our way. Showery Jupiter sat enthroned on Par- 
 nassus, and, as we ascended the opposite range of 
 mountains, he hit my nose with a single drop, 
 perhaps expecting that, like the Greeks of old, we 
 should postpone our journey to avert the omen. 
 But we kept on and up in spite of all his warn- 
 ings and threats. We had a gloriously dark and 
 frowning view of Parnassus, as we left it, and 
 showery Jupiter was as good as his word ; for 
 when we had got fairly entangled in the mazes 
 of the CEtian range, down came a shower, the 
 like of which we seldom see in our unpoetical 
 latitudes. But the scenery all around us the 
 bare and desolate peaks, the wild ravines, the 
 foaming streams that started like racers on their 
 course, the many-tinted oak and plane-tree, the 
 evergreens on the mountain-side, and the fiercely
 
 RAIN AND SUNSHINE. 261 
 
 careering clouds, so unlike our dreams of the clas- 
 sic beauty of Greece was splendid. 
 
 On we went, regardless of the rain, all ex- 
 cept Walnut the dog, who seemed greatly cha- 
 grined. Walnut is a dog of taste ; has made the 
 tour several times ; takes a special pleasure in 
 showing off his country to foreign travellers, and, 
 when he found we were going, insisted upon going 
 with us. He is a very quiet dog, almost never 
 barks, and has taken a special friendship for me. 
 He sleeps under my bed when I have one, and 
 when I have not, sleeps as near me as he can get. 
 He has kept by my side all day long, and, as we 
 rode through the magnificent scenery under the 
 heavy rain, hung his tail between his legs in the 
 most desponding manner, evidently feeling a 
 heavy responsibility for the present state of af- 
 fairs, and concerned for the character of the Gre- 
 cian climate. 
 
 Suddenly the rain ceased ; the sun, the Grecian 
 sun, came out ; the hilltops, trees, and silver rain- 
 drops were lighted in a moment ; the region round 
 about broke into a blaze, and thousands of birds 
 added the full chorus of their song. Ah ! then 
 you should have seen Walnut the dog, how he 
 capered about ; how he ran up the hill and down 
 the hill ; how he jumped on me, and even barked, 
 in the gladness of his heart ; how he snatched up 
 a stick, and shook it till it broke in pieces. The 
 dog had never done anything of the kind before ;
 
 262 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Jie is a sober, affectionate dog, with a temperate 
 enjoyment of the world, and a friendly eye for 
 every wayfarer, I could not help sympathizing 
 in his joy, and my own pleasure in the sudden 
 outbreak of beauty was really heightened by the 
 sight of Walnut's ecstasies. 
 
 It soon began to rain again, and so continued, 
 until the sea broke upon us, between the moun- 
 tains, with Euboea before us and Thermopylae on 
 our left. 
 
 We stopped to rest at Bodenitra, and ascended 
 its Acropolis, which has the remains of an ancient 
 structure, and a castle of the Middle Ages. Here 
 is one of the most splendid prospects in the world. 
 The weather again cleared off, and we began our 
 descent from the last ranges of CEta to the sea- 
 shore. It was steep and rugged, reminding me 
 of the Alps. We reached the pass, galloped along 
 the ground of the immortal battle, visited the 
 mounds supposed to cover the bodies of the three 
 hundred Spartans, and then reached the narrowest 
 point, where the battle must have commenced. 
 
 What sound strikes my ear ? What sight 
 meets my eye ? The noise of a mill ! The hot 
 springs, celebrated in all ages, are now made to do 
 the work of ancient slaves, and grind. I was 
 shocked ; my newly acquired character of poet 
 rose in arms at such a desecration. Bathed in Is- 
 menus, rolled on Helicon, refreshed by draughts 
 from Aganippe, my coat out at the elbows before
 
 THE MILL OF THERMOPYLAE. 263 
 
 the Parnassian heights, I could not now but feel 
 every sentiment of my poetical nature outraged 
 by the sight of a mill carried by the hot springs of 
 Thermopylae ! 
 
 But but we were to stop at the mill for the 
 night, or travel an hour to a desolate khan, and 
 we stopped, mounting by a crazy staircase to the 
 single room. There was a bright wood-fire on a 
 raised circle. There was a colossal loaf of wheaten 
 bread, just ready to be put under the embers. 
 The miller, a stately-looking man in fustian, took 
 down his single chair, and with a bow offered it to 
 *' His Nobleness," meaning myself. 
 
 Poetry began to ooze out of the hole at the el- 
 bow, and a mill at Thermopyla3 was not so bad a 
 thing after all ; and when he told me that thirty 
 villages depended on his mill for grinding their 
 corn and wheat, I came to the 'conclusion that 
 Thermopyla3 was never put to half so good a use 
 before. 
 
 Just as I write these words, he gives us an 
 invitation to pass to-morrow with him, and join in 
 a Klephtic festival, which he will celebrate in our 
 honor. We consent, and he sends at once to or- 
 der a kid, and to arrange the Klephtic songs for so 
 grand an occasion. I could not help quoting the 
 words of an ancient fragment : 
 
 " Grind, miller, grind ; 
 For e'en Pittacus grinds, 
 Of great My tilene the king."
 
 264 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Clatter, clatter goes the mill below ; but it does 
 not disturb the sleep of Leonidas and his Three 
 Hundred, who lie beneath yonder tumulus. We 
 have reached the northern limit of our journey, 
 and our next move will be southward.
 
 A KLEPHTIC FEAST. 265 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THERMOPYLAE, November 20. 
 
 I MENTIONED yesterday the tempting invi- 
 ' tation of our host at the mill. Well, the sun 
 rose bright and cloudless, and our first movement 
 was to the hot bath. It is the most delicious 
 thing in the world. The water comes steaming 
 from the foot of the mountain, nearly as hot as 
 the body can bear, clear as crystal, and softening 
 to the skin, like the fountain of youth. If these 
 springs were in some easily accessible spot, they 
 would be the most frequented watering-place in 
 the world. 
 
 Our bath was followed by a breakfast, such as 
 would have " created a soul beneath the ribs " of 
 Leonidas himself. One item was a colossal loaf, 
 smoking hot from the coals, which, with honey of 
 Hymettus that we had brought from Athens, had 
 an admirable relish. 
 
 Then we took a long stroll, and examined all 
 
 C5 * 
 
 the remains of ancient fortifications, and walls as 
 old as Herodotus, besides ascending some of the 
 overhanging mountains, to get a distant view of 
 these glorious scenes. 
 
 Towards evening, the preparations were made 
 12
 
 266 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 for our Homeric repast. The kid had been killed 
 the night before ; a huge wood-fire was lighted in 
 one wing of the mill, and the kid was spitted on a 
 long pole, with sausages made of his own insides 
 twisted around the body. Two men turned the 
 spit, one at each end of the pole. The table was 
 laid, and a man brought a huge armful of freshly 
 gathered myrtle-branches, and placed them on 
 the table. Meantime the splanchna (entrails), as 
 Homer calls them, were brought, and we each ate 
 about three inches. It was excellent. An hour 
 after, the kid was brought, piping hot, on the spit, 
 " skilfully divided " by the cook, and laid on the 
 myrtle-branches ; and the head was cleft, and 
 also set on the table. All things being prepared, 
 we laid our hands not knives and forks on 
 the meat that was placed before us. I never ate 
 better in my life. The kids, fed on the mountains, 
 have an excellent relish, and, cooked in the man- 
 ner I have described, the flesh loses nothing of its 
 natural flavor. With a sprinkling of Homer's 
 "divine salt," one desires nothing better. Our 
 host sat with us, and supplied, from a wooden ves- 
 sel, copious draughts of Grecian wine to those 
 who liked it ; for my part, I detest it and prefer 
 water. 
 
 After the feast was over, came (in Homeric 
 fashion again) the singing of Hellenic songs. 
 Four or five wild-looking fellows, sitting on a 
 
 o * o 
 
 carpet, chanted some dozen poems, on various
 
 KLEPHTIC SONGS. 267 
 
 subjects, war-songs, lamentations for the dead, 
 love-songs, and among the rest, Olympos and 
 Eissdbos, which you remember. Perhaps you 
 recollect that one of the interlocutors in that curi- 
 ous piece is the head of a slaughtered warrior, 
 who boasts that he has been twelve years a robber 
 on Mount Olympus. It was a piquant circum- 
 stance in the entertainment of this evening, that 
 the corypheus, or leading singer, has been for 
 eleven years a Efopht, or robber, in precisely the 
 same place ; and I thought he sang that piece with 
 a quite peculiar zest, and a knowing twinkle of 
 the eye, as much as to say, " Though I tend 
 the mill now, I have not always done so." 
 
 I am not sure that you would have liked the 
 music altogether ; your taste has been too much 
 perverted by the Italian opera. But one who, 
 like me, has been nurtured on Pindaric strains, 
 finds in these songs, and the peculiar music in 
 which they are chanted, something exceedingly 
 interesting. 
 
 The name of my Olympian Klepht is Basilios 
 Christopoulon, or Basilios, the son of Christo- 
 poulos. The singing closed our Hellenic supper, 
 the wild-looking chorus disappeared like the cho- 
 rus in a tragedy of ^Eschylus, and all of our 
 company, except myself, betook themselves to 
 chibouks, and paid their devotions to cloud-com- 
 pelling Jove. So, good night again.
 
 268 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THERMOPYLAE, November 21. 
 
 STILL near Leonidas. This morning, when 
 daylight dawned, Strattis the Lesbian came 
 in and informed us that it was raining. We got 
 up, and, looking forth, saw that a heavy storm 
 had set in, and it was quite out of the question 
 to set out. We made up our minds to submit 
 to what was inevitable, with as good a grace as 
 possible. 
 
 Thermopylse is an interesting spot, but not ex-- 
 actly the place to choose for a long storm. Its 
 range of amusements is rather limited. The vi- 
 cinity cannot be seen to advantage under a heavy 
 rain. Leonidas and the Three Hundred are well 
 enough for a day of sunshine. The mountains are 
 splendid, if you can get a sight of them. The mill 
 keeps up its clatter, indifferent to the weather ; 
 but when one has heard it for four and twenty 
 hours, it is no longer exciting. 
 
 I brought books with me, but we have only one 
 window, though there are many holes in the roof; 
 and one or another is constantly at that window 
 to watch the weather, so that the room is mostly 
 darkened, and literature is, therefore, of little
 
 RAINY DAY AT THERMOPYLAE. 269 
 
 avail. We discussed England and America; we 
 talked Greek politics with Strattis and our host ; 
 we read a few sentences now and then, and some- 
 times ventured a few feet outside the door, or 
 stood observing for the hundredth time the work- 
 ing of the millstones. A change took place to- 
 wards noon ; instead of a heavy rain, a deluge came 
 down, and still comes down. 
 
 As our host, the miller, gave us a Klephtic din- 
 ner yesterday, we determined to give him a Eu- 
 ropean dinner to-day. We invited him in due 
 form, and then told Yanni Bulgari, the cook, to 
 do his best, as we were going to have a dinner- 
 party. Luckily, I bought a partridge a couple of 
 days ago, and we had a fat chicken, and plenty 
 of rice. We had also a bottle of rum and a bottle 
 of brandy. The cook did his duty nobly. We 
 had three courses, fruit, nuts, and tea but no 
 cream. We drank the health of the King and 
 Queen of Greece, the Queen of England, and the 
 President of the United States. In short, the 
 dinner went off with the greatest eclat. Strattis, 
 the miller, and C are at this moment smok- 
 ing their pipes, the former two sitting on the 
 floor, and the Englishman on a chair. The wood- 
 fire is also smoking. 
 
 It is now half past eight o'clock, and the rain 
 is falling in such torrents that we suppose the 
 heavens must be exhausted by the morning. The 
 mill is shut up for the night. I forgot to tell
 
 270 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 you that there are port-holes which command 
 the approaches in all directions ; and guns and 
 pistols ready for use at a moment's warning. 
 The mountains are near, the robbers might de- 
 scend, and it is well to be prepared for any 
 event.
 
 MOUNTAIN TORRENTS. 271 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 BODENITRA, November 22. 
 
 THIS morning was again stormy. We stayed 
 at Thermopylae the whole forenoon, doing 
 little else than taking turns to look out of the only 
 window in the mill to see what the weather was. 
 It rained, rained, rained. I read part of a 
 play of Sophocles, the Trachiniae, the scene 
 
 of which is laid in this neighborhood ; Mr. C 
 
 read Thackeray, both of us lying on the floor. 
 
 At length, about one o'clock, we determined to 
 make a start for Bodenitra. We had intended 
 to take a different route, for Delphi ; but the 
 weather looked so bad that we thought it better to 
 be getting into the road to Athens. From this 
 place we can either go across the mountains to 
 Delphi, or return to Lebadeia, Thebes, &c., as we 
 think it best. We rode along the pass, and took 
 the bridle-road up the side of the mountain. The 
 rains of two days had formed several beautiful 
 mountain torrents, where none were to be seen 
 when we rode by before, and we enjoyed the 
 sight of them greatly. 
 
 But we soon found, that, however picturesque 
 they were in the landscape, they made our passage
 
 272 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 unexpectedly difficult. We forded three rapid 
 streams, with some trouble, and just before we 
 reached the height on which the Acropolis of Bo- 
 denitra stands among the clouds, we came upon a 
 fourth, which roared and foamed from the moun- 
 tain in a dark ravine that was perfectly dry 
 three days ago. After searching some time, we 
 found a place over which our guide thought we 
 could safely pass, and in he dashed. But the 
 water was too deep and strong ; his horse lost his 
 footing, and fell plunging and floating among the 
 rocks. 
 
 Strattis, the Lesbian, is a very stout man ; he 
 floundered for some time, and at last succeeded in 
 getting to the opposite shore, and dragging his 
 horse out by the bridle. Man and horse certainly 
 ran a narrow chance of being drowned, the depth 
 and force of the current were so great. Of course 
 
 C and I made no attempt to cross ; and there 
 
 we stood, in a heavy rain, like a couple of discon- 
 solate ghosts on the shores of the Styx, with no 
 Charon to ferry us over. 
 
 Fortunately a peasant, in his " shaggy capote," 
 came along, and for two drachmas showed us a 
 place about a quarter of a mile higher up the 
 mountain, where we crossed with a slight addi- 
 tional wetting. 
 
 We pushed on to. Bodenitra with all speed, 
 which at best was small, as the road went up a 
 steep mountain all the way, and, hurrying to
 
 THE HOUSE OF A VILLAGE PRIEST. 273 
 
 the house of the Papas, a village priest, soon had 
 a huge fire, by which we threw ourselves down on 
 rugs, and enjoyed the comparative comfort. This 
 house is in some respects better than the other 
 Greek houses I have seen. There is an opening 
 so arranged that not more than three quarters of 
 the smoke comes out into the room. 
 
 We found our luggage had not got wet at all, 
 and a change of clothes set everything right. 
 This looks a little like an adventure, and came 
 very near being one. 
 
 I wish you could see the interior of this house, 
 so that you might form some idea how a Greek 
 papas, or clergyman, with his family, lives, and 
 compare it with the condition of the minister of 
 a New England village. I should despair of suc- 
 ceeding in depicting it adequately to you ; and 
 perhaps you would hardly believe the details I 
 should have to enumerate. But I must say good 
 night. 
 
 12*
 
 274 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 ELATEIA, November 23. 
 
 ANOTHER day- of dismal rain. Our New 
 England climate has been abused. Only 
 let Northern Greece take it into its head to give 
 you a specimen of its powers in the disagreeable 
 way, and my word for it, New England must 
 give in "dead beat." We got up this morning, 
 and as we looked out of the papas's house, a darker, 
 drearier, rainier, colder day one could not wish, 
 and need not hope to see. But we were not to 
 be frightened. We armed ourselves with a com- 
 fortable breakfast, mounted our Thessalian steeds, 
 and, following Strattis the Lesbian, set off to cross 
 the mountains into the valley of Elateia. It 
 rained first, then it drizzled, and then came a fog, 
 thick, piercing, hearvy, and so dark that we could 
 not see twenty rods. The earth was slippery, 
 and the stones were more slippery. But still we 
 went on. 
 
 I can hardly imagine a more ludicrous satire on 
 travelling for pleasure than a picture of our droop- 
 ing company would have been. Strattis the Les- 
 bian, covered with a shaggy capote, drip- 
 ping ; C in a mackintosh, silent, drip-
 
 ARRIVAL AT ELATEIA. 275 
 
 ping ; F in a thick great coat, india-rubbers, 
 
 umbrella, silent, dripping ; Yanni Bulgari on 
 the top of the kitchen furniture, which was on the 
 back of a mule, silent, dripping ; Parnagi- 
 otes, leading the other mules, with a boy to help 
 him keep silence and drip. The only sign of ani- 
 mation was given by the mule that carried the 
 provisions, making a vicious attempt to kick 
 whenever man or horse came near him, and lift- 
 ing his heels about a quarter of an inch from the 
 ground. We did see some shining oak-leaves 
 mysteriously gleaming through the fog, and we 
 met, on the mountains, two or three muleteers, 
 looking like ancient satyrs. 
 
 The mountains were not endless ; (Eta was 
 finally crossed, and we descended into the plain 
 of Elateia, with a more temperate atmosphere, 
 but more copious rains. 
 
 Our arrival caused as great consternation among 
 the turkeys as Philip's did among the Athenians. 
 Two fell victims. We stopped at the khan where 
 I am writing at the present moment. The rain 
 pours down as if it were just beginning, and we 
 are told that the river which we crossed easily 
 the other day has risen so high that the postman 
 yesterday could not get over it, on his way to 
 Athens. If it continues so, we shall be detained 
 in this enlivening place the raining heavens 
 and showery Jove alone can tell how long. Del- 
 phi must be absolutely given up for the present.
 
 276 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 I am sorry to lose time here by such weather ; 
 but every inconvenience has its counterbalancing 
 good. I should not else have seen so much of the 
 interior life of the Greeks. Imagine the worst you 
 can of discomfort, the utter absence of every- 
 thing we hold needful, not merely to the luxury, 
 but to the decency of life, and the picture in 
 your mind will be one of regal magnificence com- 
 pared with the condition of a common Greek peas- 
 ant, even of a common Greek clergyman. The 
 highest dignitaries of the Church live in a style 
 that a coachman would despise among us. A 
 room is swept about once in three months. Out 
 of Athens there is hardly a glass window in all 
 Greece, possibly one or two may be found in 
 Patras. While I write these words, a great splash 
 of water falls on my portfolio. We have just had 
 our beds placed in the middle of the room, before 
 the fire, to get as much out of the way of the rain 
 as possible. You understand, from these few 
 traits, how necessary it is for travellers to take 
 with them everything. Once in a while a turkey, 
 or chicken, or quarter of lamb may be bought, 
 and if you happen in at baking-time, you may get 
 a loaf of unleavened bread. The miller at Ther- 
 mopylae is a most rare exception. The fire is 
 going out, and I must go to bed ; so good night.
 
 BROTHERS OF THE MILLER OF THERMOPYLAE. 277 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 MOUNT PARNASSUS, November 24. 
 
 WHEN we got up this morning at Elateia, 
 and found that it had been raining heav- 
 ily all night, I did not think I should write to you 
 this evening from a high place on the mountain of 
 the Muses. 
 
 Last evening, though near Parnassus, we could 
 not see his majestic form, for the mist and clouds ; 
 this morning, his summits were covered with 
 snow, which had fallen during the night, and the 
 sight was magnificent. 
 
 We could not set out early on account of the 
 swollen streams, which made the plain of Elateia 
 impassable. The rain had, however, ceased, and 
 some signs of fair weather greeted us. We waited 
 until noon, and then sallied forth, Walnut, the 
 
 Lesbian Strattis, C and myself, Yanni Bul- 
 
 gari the cook, the master of the asses the three 
 donkeys and his servant, all expecting that 
 we might be obliged to return. 
 
 At Elateia we became acquainted with two 
 brothers of our host at the mill of Thermopylae, 
 two very handsome, genteel, and civil pallecars, 
 who were very attentive to us. We invited one
 
 278 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 of them, whom we happened to meet first, to dine 
 with us. He accepted, but afterwards excused 
 Himself, as he had letters to write to send off the 
 next morning. To-day he came to see us, with 
 his youngest brother, Constantine Demakedes. A 
 more gallant-looking fellow, with his Klephtic leg- 
 gings, his white fustanelli, embroidered jacket, 
 and goat's-hair capote over the whole, you would 
 not often see. 
 
 We stayed until about twelve o'clock, and then 
 set out in the order I have just mentioned. 
 
 The manner in which these torrents are sud- 
 denly swollen by the rains, and suddenly subside 
 when the rains are over, is a striking illustration 
 of Homer's description of the conflict of Achilles 
 with the Simois and Scamander. We found the 
 plain traversed by them ; but since morning they 
 had so diminished in volume, that there was no 
 danger in fording them. The first we crossed my 
 horse took a fancy to bathe in, as he had at the 
 fountain of Ismenus in Thebes ; and down he 
 went, giving me an involuntary plunge. Luckily 
 I was well protected. I approve of the animal's 
 taste for cold baths ; our notions agree on this 
 subject, but his time does not coincide with mine, 
 which makes it inconvenient. I dragged him out, 
 and gave him a few blows with a shepherd's crook 
 presented to me by our host at Thermopylae, to 
 signify my disapprobation of his proceedings ; then 
 remounted, and trotted on.
 
 THE TRIODOS. 279 
 
 The sun began to show his face, and to shine 
 on the snowy summits of Parnassus. This led us 
 to resume our original plan of going to Delphi, 
 instead of returning directly to Athens. We 
 crossed the plain, passing the Phocian Cephissus, 
 over a high arched bridge of stone, then took the 
 road to the right, between Helicon and Parnassus, 
 to Daulis. As we entered the mountains by this 
 pass, the scenery soon became magnificent ; the 
 glittering sides of the limestone and marble cliffs 
 contrasting with the zones of green oak below and 
 dark cedars above. 
 
 Daulis stands in a secluded nook, most pictu- 
 resquely placed, with gardens of pomegranates, and, 
 on an eminence above the town, a large, circular, 
 stone-paved threshing-floor, while on a projecting 
 spur of Parnassus stand the foundations of the 
 ancient Acropolis. The road began to climb up 
 the slope of Parnassus ; and by and by, after pass- 
 ing a singular chasm between Parnassus, which is 
 limestone, and the opposite mountain, which is red 
 slate to the very summit, we reached the famous 
 spot where three ways meet, the scene of the 
 murder of Laius by his son CEdipus. 
 
 It is a wonderful spot, so strongly marked that 
 there cannot be the slightest doubt of its identity. 
 The road from Daulis here meets the road from 
 Delphi, at the triangular little valley where the 
 road from Thebes also comes in. Laius was jour- 
 neying from Thebes ; (Edipus had just gone from
 
 280 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Corinth to the Delphian oracle, and, frightened by 
 the awful responses he had received, fled by the 
 road towards Thebes, and, meeting his father here, 
 got into an angry parley, and slew him with all 
 his train. Then pursuing his way to Thebes, he 
 solves the riddle of the Sphinx, is made King, 
 and marries the widowed Queen. 
 
 As I came to this place, from which so much of 
 the tragic poetry of Greece radiates as from a 
 centre, it seemed to me one of the most splendidly 
 fearful spots I ever visited ; and as I cast my eyes 
 up to the jagged summits of the surrounding 
 mountains, the rude rocks took mysterious forms, 
 and some of them, shaping themselves into a line 
 of sphinxes, looked down with grim silence, as 
 if they had been struck dumb by the dreadful 
 tragedy enacted before them, and had stood there 
 in stony and speechless horror ever since. I half 
 hoped they would break the silence of so many 
 centuries, and tell us something of what they had 
 witnessed, as we passed. But no ; they looked 
 down, dumb as before, stony as when OEdipus 
 lifted his unconscious but parricidal hand, and did 
 the deed that should ring through all succeeding 
 ages. 
 
 Just beyond this tragic spot, on the very road 
 by which CEdipus came from Delphi, we have 
 stopped, at a solitary khan, to pass the night. The 
 stars have come out clear and cold ; and we look 
 down from our airy elevation into the mysteriously
 
 SCENE OF THE (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 281 
 
 winding defile, and see by the light of the stars 
 those stony, silent sphinxes, on the brow of the 
 opposite mountain, peering into the " triple way" 
 of destiny. I have read the portions of the QEdipus 
 Tyrannus which refer to these fatal stones since 
 we reached the khan, by the light of brands of fir, 
 with a shuddering sense of its vast poetical power.. 
 Pray read it, and try to conjure up in imagination 
 the realities I have witnessed this day. I do not 
 wonder at the lofty estimation in which Sophocles 
 was held by his countrymen. It is now ten 
 o'clock ; so good night.
 
 282 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 DELPHI, November 25. 
 
 WE saw the sun rise bright over the hills 
 that shut in the Triodos, the Three 
 Ways, while Parnassus was covered with a 
 heavy fog. The sun looked like a globe of fire. 
 We made ready to start for Delphi ; breakfasted, 
 mounted our Thessalian chargers, and pursued our 
 way higher and higher up the side of Parnassus, 
 until we got into so dense a cloud that we could 
 not see fifty feet before us. Once in a while the 
 fog swept away, and opened the most magnificent 
 glimpses, down into the deep ravines, over the 
 opposite mountains, and off into the Peloponne- 
 sus, beyond the Gulf of Corinth. In the valleys 
 were the finest olive-groves we have anywhere 
 seen ; on the slopes, firs, oaks, and cedars. 
 
 In two hours we reached Arachova, a town 
 perched on the crags among the clouds. The 
 weather cleared up just as we climbed into the 
 town, and showed the vineyards and cultivated 
 fields far down in the valley, and on the lower 
 sides of the mountains. 
 
 An hour more brought us in sight of Delphi, 
 once the richest oracular site in the world ; a city
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN DELPHI. 283 
 
 of temples, statues, hippodromes, theatres, votive 
 offerings of the costliest works of art, gold and 
 silver, precious stones, from far and near, from 
 Greek and barbarian ; cit y of song and dance, 
 and Pythian games, and solemn deputations from 
 Athens, from Corinth, from every other renowned 
 city upon the earth. 
 
 In the southern and western slope of Parnas- 
 sus is a natural theatre, rising from the valley of 
 the Pleistus, green with olive-trees, terrace on 
 terrace, to the very summit. As you come in 
 from Daulis you turn to the right, and ascend 
 to the angle of this natural theatre. Here is a 
 deep chasm, cutting the rock into two crests, that 
 rise sheer and high above Delphi. From this 
 flows the Castalian spring, and here the Pythian 
 prophetess breathed in her inspiration. 
 
 There are traces of the oracle here, the hewn 
 face of the rock, niches, caverns, partly cut and 
 partly natural. I drank of the fountain, and found 
 its waters sweet. These terraces were once 
 covered with the most magnificent temples, 
 above them all, the hippodrome or stadium, on the 
 very brow of the mountain. The natural form 
 remains ; the terraces, with huge masses of ma- 
 sonry here and there, exist still. Two or three 
 wretched monasteries ; as many churches, like 
 hovels ; a narrow, muddy street or two ; rows of 
 tile-roofed, dirty huts ; bits of hewn marble built 
 into rude walls ; fragments of exquisite sculpture,
 
 284 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 turned topsy-turvy and stuck into enclosures ; 
 foundation-stones, covered with inscriptions still 
 legible, and telling the splendid story of other 
 times, these are the Delphi of to-day, a glo- 
 rious position, fit for the dwelling-place of gods, 
 a prospect that Apollo might gaze upon forever 
 with delight. 
 
 We arrived here at one o'clock, and spent the 
 whole afternoon in walking up and down the an- 
 cient site ; examining every fragment we could 
 find, every foundation-stone, every inscription. 
 Here poor Otfried Miiller lost his life by a sun- 
 stroke, in his ardor for investigation. This gave, 
 to my mind, a deeper tragic interest to the spot. 
 
 But to stand here and think that in Homer's 
 time the Temple of Delphi was reverenced be- 
 yond the limits of the Grecian name ; to recall its 
 increasing splendors for a thousand years, and the 
 immense influence it exercised through the whole 
 period of ancient history ; and to look at it now, 
 and see, as we saw to-day, half a dozen barefooted 
 Delphian maids washing clothes in the basin sup- 
 plied by the Castalian spring, in the midst of the 
 annihilation of so much splendor, we can hardly 
 call it ruin, is a solemn spectacle of the vanity 
 and perish ableness of all human grandeur. 
 
 Just over the edge of the mountain is the place 
 where the Amphictyonic assemblies met, but not 
 a trace remains. I could infer the spot only from 
 a passage in ^Eschines. Not a word is said about
 
 A DELPHIAN FAMILY. 285 
 
 it in any of the guide-books. But he pictures the 
 scene so vividly in his oration against Demos- 
 thenes, that I could not mistake it by many rods. 
 There extends the Crissaean plain, to which he 
 pointed when he addressed the Amphictyons, and 
 all the features of the landscape are as they met 
 his eye. It is a curious passage ; and as I looked 
 down over the region, I could fancy I heard the 
 indignant tones of the orator, as he called the at- 
 tention of the Amphictyons to the outrages com- 
 mitted by the-Locrians of Amphissa on a spot con- 
 secrated forever to Apollo. 
 
 We stop for the night at a private house, 
 scarcely better furnished than the huts we have 
 slept in before. A family of a mother and three 
 daughters, a son-in-law, and a young man who is 
 to marry one of the remaining girls, occupies the 
 house ; one room is given up to us. 
 
 The whole family came in to see the strangers. 
 The father, we are told, has recently died, so that 
 the marriage is put off for a year. They stand 
 round the room, gazing. Statho, the future bride, 
 is a dark-eyed, comely damsel, looking, in her Par- 
 nassian costume, like a bas-relief on the Parthe- 
 non, so statuesque is she in her attitude and 
 the flow of her drapery. She has a brother, 
 an inquisitive, large-brained chap of ten years. 
 He asks me more questions than I can answer ; 
 peeps into my books ; shows me his school-books ; 
 and reads me a passage from his geography.
 
 286 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 ON BOARD THE ST. NICHOLAS, 
 
 GULF OF CORINTH, November 26. 
 
 OUR adventures are almost as various as those 
 of Ulysses. We passed last night at Delphi, 
 under the shadow of " the prophetic rock," as 
 Sophocles calls it. The morning was bright and 
 pleasant. Breakfasting early, and mounting our 
 Thessalians, we commenced our descent from the 
 lofty Parnassian heights. On our way, we passed 
 many tombs excavated in the rock, themselves in 
 ruins, Death himself besieged and conquered 
 in his last strongholds by old Time, mightier than 
 he. Hewn rocks and smoothed hillsides showed 
 where magnificent works had once stood ; and 
 crumbly stones under our feet testified to their 
 long decay. 
 
 In two hours we reached the town of Chrisso, 
 the ancient Crissa, and, riding through it, galloped 
 into the famous Crissaean plain, once consecrated 
 to Apollo, and trodden by multitudes thronging 
 from every part of the world to worship at the 
 shrine, consult the oracle, or share in the splendid 
 spectacle of the Pythian games. It is a charming, 
 fertile region, now partly filled with very beautiful
 
 THE GREEK CARNIVAL. 287 
 
 plantations of olives. The mountains of Doris, on 
 our right, were covered with immense quantities of 
 snow, almost within reach, while we were riding in 
 summer heat. The change from the stormy weather 
 we had experienced since our arrival at Thermopylae 
 was most welcome, and we congratulated ourselves 
 that we had seen Delphi, after all. 
 
 The view of Parnassus from the plain was 
 grand, but its summit was still enveloped in clouds, 
 that rolled and swept in billows in that upper sea. 
 Two hours more brought us down to the Crisssean 
 Bay, and there we took a large ferry-boat over 
 to Galaxidi, whence we expected to cross to the 
 Peloponnesus. Our horses were sent round by 
 land .to the same place. The change from horse- 
 back to the boat was pleasant enough ; and we lay 
 
 down to enjoy it at our ease, my friend C 
 
 smoking his chibouk. The motion of the boat, al- 
 most put me asleep, as I lay, gazing up to heaven 
 and round on the magnificent scenery that borders 
 the Gulf of Corinth, the citadel of Corinth rising 
 like a mighty pyramid on the edge of the horizon. 
 I made our Greek rowers sing some Klephtic 
 songs, the second time we have been treated with 
 this primitive poetry. 
 
 Two hours of pleasant rowing brought us to 
 Galaxidi. It is the Greek carnival to-day; and 
 the landing-place was crowded by an idle popula- 
 tion, who swarmed around us, and stared as if they 
 had never seen a stranger before. All the coffee-
 
 288 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 houses dirty as they could be were filled with 
 people, playing cards, and doing honor to their 
 apokreas, or farewell to flesh. We stepped in to 
 get a cup of coffee; and instantly the windows 
 were filled with peering faces. 
 
 We had to engage a craft of some kind to take 
 
 o o 
 
 us over the Gulf to the coast of Peloponnesus. 
 It is like the making of a treaty between two 
 mighty powers. Our Lesbian finds the captain of 
 a two-masted vessel, with lateen sails, and brings 
 him to the coffee-house. The preliminary step is 
 to order coffee for the captain. This being gravely 
 disposed of, the real subject is formally opened. 
 The captain informs us that his vessel is a beautiful 
 one ; the cabin is large and commodious ; his crew 
 excellent. 
 
 " Very well : now, Captain, how much do you 
 ask to take us over, man and beast, to the land 
 of Pelops ? " 
 
 " O, only a reasonable sum. There are six 
 men, three horses, three asses, and a dog ; six 
 drachmas a head, not counting the dog." 
 
 Captain counts us all alike, man, horse, and 
 ass, a dollar a head. We protest that we will 
 do no such thing ; the price is monstrous ; and we 
 will rather wait till Monday, and take the Austrian 
 steamer back to Athens. 
 
 Proposition No. 2. Seventy drachmas for th'e 
 whole company. We offer forty. He proposes 
 sixty-five.
 
 A FELUCCA IN THE GULF OF CORINTH. 289 
 
 "We offer forty-five. He consents to come down 
 to sixty, though it is ruinously low. We say we 
 will pay fifty, though it will nearly bankrupt us. 
 
 At this point the negotiation flags, both parties 
 affecting great indifference, and looking loftily 
 around upon the assembled town, who were listen- 
 ing with irrepressible interest to the dialogue. 
 
 At length I renew the conference. " Pente- 
 konta pente, fifty-five, and not a lepton more." 
 
 " Done," says the Captain, in excellent Greek, 
 and instantly sends for his boat, to take us off and 
 see the craft, which is lying in another harbor. 
 We row round the point, reach the vessel, the 
 St. Nicholas ; climb up her side, and look round 
 for the cabin. It hardly answers the Captain's 
 description ; but Parnassus is in sight, and poetry 
 transforms the realities of things into imaginary 
 shapes. The cabin is a box, at the stern of the 
 vessel, down into which you jump. Sitting on a 
 low stool and bending a little, your head only 
 touches the top. On each side is a place for a 
 mattress ; in the centre, a space three feet square, 
 in which two persons can sit, if they arrange their 
 legs judiciously. 
 
 In some mysterious part of the hold Yanni 
 Bulgar, the cook, has established his kitchen. 
 Panagiotes, the packer, Yanni Bulgar, the master 
 of the asses, and his boy, have scattered promis- 
 cuously, I don't know exactly where. Early to- 
 morrow morning the horses and asses are to be 
 
 13 &
 
 290 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 swung on board ; and then, as soon as the wind is 
 favorable, off we spring for the land of Pelops. 
 
 I compare myself, at this present moment, to 
 nothing else than a pirate or corsair, in gold spec- 
 tacles ; and if you hear of cities taken and coun- 
 tries ravaged by audacious buccaneers, you may 
 
 make up your mind that C and I are the 
 
 heroes of the tale. 
 
 A serious disaster has been discovered since we 
 came on board. Yanni Bulgar, the cook, has left 
 a turkey, a leg of pork, and the spit at Delphi. 
 Apollo and the Muses were so captivated by our 
 pork-steak breakfast, that they absorbed his senses 
 in oblivion, and are at this moment revelling in a 
 supper such as they have not had since the days 
 of Jupiter. Good night.
 
 VOYAGE ON THE GULF OF CORINTH. 291 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 SYRIA ( FIG-TOWN), November 27. 
 
 ABOUT three o'clock this morning, while I 
 was uneasily sleeping in a wooden box, our 
 piratical craft got under way. In an hour more, 
 it took our horses and donkeys on board, swinging 
 up the ship's side in the most amusing manner. 
 Horses snorted and donkeys kicked, but on board 
 they went, and sails were hoisted, and slowly we 
 moved out of the harbor of Galaxidi. 
 
 There was scarcely a breath stirring ; the sails 
 flapped lazily against the masts, and the felucca 
 crept slowly out into the Gulf of Corinth. The 
 glorious sun rose, and lighted a superb panorama, 
 the deep blue waters of the Gulf, the dazzling, 
 snow-capped summits of Parnassus, the majestic 
 piles of Helicon, Cithaeron, and Geranion, and on 
 the other side the blue ranges of Achaia. The 
 eye commanded nearly the whole length of the 
 Corinthian Gulf, and its mountain barriers. 
 
 When we had left the shore, the breeze fresh- 
 ened, and on we sped over the dancing waves. 
 We sailed the whole forenoon, enjoying one of the 
 finest views in the world ; but about twelve o'clock 
 the wind suddenly fell, and instead of reaching
 
 292 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Corinth to-night, whither our captain was to take 
 us, we were likely to beat about the Gulf, either 
 with no wind, or a wind dead against us. We, 
 therefore, decided to land at once on the Pelopon- 
 nesian shore, and travel as fast as we could by 
 horse. So we horses, donkeys, men left our 
 ship at Zakoulitico, and rode to this place, which 
 is in the demos or district of ancient Sicyon. 
 
 It was a most delightful ride, along the shore 
 of the Gulf, with such famous mountains far and 
 near, and such a wonderful play of light and 
 shade. 
 
 Sykia is grandly placed. Behind it rise terraces 
 on terraces, on which the currant is cultivated ; 
 below is a beautiful curve of the beach ; beyond, 
 the Gulf, Helicon, Cithaeron, and Geranion. It 
 is a town of some consequence, and has several 
 houses with glass windows. Indeed, I begin to 
 think what I said a while ago about the absence of 
 glass windows in Greece a hasty generalization, 
 true of Northern Greece, but not true of the 
 Morea. We are in a house with glass windows, 
 four, and only three have broken panes, a 
 degree of luxury quite extraordinary. 
 
 We look out upon the lovely waters of the 
 Gulf. We have walked over the winding beach 
 for a mile, and picked up its polished marble peb- 
 bles. We have three chairs ; books are lying on 
 a table at the side of the room ; to finish the cat- 
 alogue of comforts, there is a fireplace mth a cliim-
 
 TOILETTE ON BOARD THE ST. NICHOLAS. 293 
 
 ney ; and there is room to walk and dress. This 
 morning, on board the St. Nicholas, we washed, 
 one at a time, while the other lay in bed, the 
 washer standing in the cabin, and the wash-bowl 
 on deck. To-morrow morning we shall bathe in 
 the open sea. We mean to make a long day of 
 it ; so good night.
 
 294 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 , November 28. 
 
 WE were up at daylight this morning, and 
 were prepared for the sun, when he rose, 
 gorgeously attended by flaming clouds, over the 
 Isthmus of Corinth and the mighty Acropolis. 
 Heavy masses of threatening clouds overhung the 
 heavens, and soon extinguished the splendors of 
 the sunrise. By the time our cavalcade was 
 ready to start, the rain began to fall ; but we had 
 seen too much, of this to be frightened. We rode 
 along the shore several miles, and then turned off 
 to visit the ancient city of Sicyon, which stands 
 on high table-land several miles from the coast. 
 The foundations of the ancient buildings cover an 
 immense surface, and there is a theatre, the con- 
 tour of which and some of the seats, with two en- 
 trances, are still quite complete. The spectators 
 here had a magnificent panorama before them, 
 the Gulf, the Acropolis, the Isthmus of Corinth, 
 and the beautiful mountains on the other side. 
 Scattered all around are weather-stained blocks of 
 hewn stone, pieces of columns and friezes, and 
 other melancholy indications of ancient greatness. 
 We came down by a very steep descent, and
 
 THE ACROPOLIS OF CORINTH. 295 
 
 galloped over the meadows of Corinth, once 
 the most luxurious city, now the muddiest village, 
 under the sun ; in the midst of which rise seven 
 Doric columns, lonely, solemn, darkened with 
 age, twenty-five centuries old, and nothing near 
 them to explain them or to keep them company in 
 the iUthy and dreary present surrounding them. 
 I have never looked on any memorial of past and 
 vanished splendor that so moved me as this, 
 the strange contrast of these majestic pillars with 
 the littleness of everything else, except nature, 
 in the panorama. We walked round them, then 
 through the town to the ruins of an amphitheatre, 
 and, returning, mounted our horses to ascend the 
 citadel. 
 
 This was a much higher ascent than I had 
 counted upon. The path winds round the moun- 
 tain, for it is a mountain of vast size, and about 
 three quarters of the way up we leave our horses, 
 and perform the rest of the route on foot. The 
 enormous circuit of the now almost deserted for- 
 tress astonishes me. It is large enough for a city, 
 and the passages are as numerous and as winding 
 as the streets of Boston. It was an hour's hard 
 work to reach the summit. The clouds prevented 
 one's enjoying the whole extent of the prospect ; 
 yet we saw the Isthmus, the greater part of the 
 Gulf of Corinth on one side, with the mountains 
 on its margin ; on the other side, the Saronic Gulf, 
 jEgina, Salamis, Attica with its mountains, witk
 
 296 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 just a glimpse of Athens; and, opposite, a great 
 part of the Peloponnesus. The ancients have not 
 in the least exaggerated the commanding position 
 of this wonderful Acropolis, and yet I prefer that 
 of Athens, with its thousand associations of the 
 greatest achievements in letters and art. 
 
 We descended from this astonishing spectacle, 
 and struck off, late in the afternoon, for Cleonse, 
 by a nearer road, if road that can be called which 
 road is none. As long as the light lasted we did 
 well enough, though we were often obliged to dis- 
 mount and lead our horses, the rains having 
 performed the quite unnecessary exploit of making 
 the bridle-path worse than it naturally was. But 
 when the darkness came on, it became a serious 
 matter. We found ourselves between two ranges 
 of mountains, and even our experienced guide, 
 Strattis the Lesbian, lost his way. There were 
 ditches and streams that intersected the valley in 
 various directions, and thick bushes that per- 
 plexed our steps and confounded our horses. 
 
 We stopped and shouted, that being the only 
 thing we could think of ; and I recommend it to 
 you when you are caught in a similar scrape. In 
 good time a voice answered from the mountain ; a 
 light next appeared, and finally the person of a 
 peasant-boy bearing it. He conducted us safely 
 to a hamlet on the edge of the plain, and thence 
 we hired one of the villagers to accompany us 
 with a lantern as far as Cleonse, whither we had
 
 SCENES IN THE STORY OF (EDIPUS. 297 
 
 sent forward our luggage, neither C nor 
 
 myself desiring a second edition of the Heliconian 
 night. 
 
 The road was excessively bad, the night ex- 
 cessively dark, and the rain very heavy ; but we 
 reached Cleonae in time, wet, wearied, and cold, 
 glad of the shelter of a hut where we pass the 
 night ; glad of the warmth of a fire, which fills 
 the room with smoke, and particularly glad of a 
 hot dinner, after eleven hours of hard walking 
 and riding. 
 
 Corinth, you remember, is the place where 
 CEdipus was brought up, at the court of old King 
 Polybus ; so that we have now finished the 
 circle of that awful tragedy ; beginning with his 
 death at the Temple of the Furies, in Athens, 
 then exploring Thebes, where he lived as king, 
 and where the thread of his destiny was unwound, 
 passing a night on the spot where he slew his 
 father, another night at the oracle which sent him, 
 in flight, upon the very road where he should 
 commit the crime, and finally visiting Corinth, to 
 which he was brought by the shepherd, who found 
 him bound by the ankles on Mount Cithasron. 
 
 To-morrow we come within the tragic circle of 
 another line, the AtreidaB. We shall visit the 
 scene of the Agamemnon, and of so many other 
 direful tales. But it is getting late, and I must 
 say good night. 
 
 13*
 
 298 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XL. 
 
 EPIDAUEUS, December 1. 
 
 WE left Cleonse on Tuesday, the day cloudy 
 and the weather uncertain. We directed 
 the master of the asses to go first to Mycenae, and 
 thence to Argos, to await our arrival, we purpos- 
 ing to pass by Nemea. We crossed the hills near 
 Cleonse, and soon came upon the cavern where 
 the Nemean Lion used to dwell, and where Her- 
 cules tracked him to his den. An hour or two 
 more brought us in sight of the valley where the 
 Nemean games were celebrated, and of the three 
 moss-grown columns, still standing, in the midst of 
 a huge pile of the ruins of the Temple of Nemean 
 Jupiter. The circle of hills which shuts in the 
 valley is singularly picturesque. In the side of 
 one of them stood the theatre, of which traces yet 
 remain, commanding an admirable view of the 
 whole region. 
 
 We stopped for some time at the temple to ex- 
 amine these interesting ruins. To the imagination 
 it was an affecting contrast, these prostrate walls 
 and columns, with only three left standing, so old, 
 so weather-beaten, in the midst of utter solitude, 
 on a spot once peopled by festive throngs, resound-
 
 MEMORIES OF AEGOS. 299 
 
 ing with song and dance, the tramp of long proces- 
 sions, and the hymns of worshippers. At Corinth, 
 the columns of the old temple stand in the midst 
 of dirty hovels ; here the majesty of nature en- 
 compasses these fallen memorials of the past. 
 
 We remounted our horses, and took the path 
 into the mountains. A few hours more gave us a 
 glimpse of the sea, and of the rich vale of " hollow 
 Argos," the gigantic walls of Mycenae, gray 
 with age before Homer was born, and scarcely 
 moved from their solid basis now, occupying a 
 high summit just at the entrance of the valley, 
 and commanding a view of the kingdom of Aga- 
 memnon. 
 
 We rode up to the " Gate of Lions," of which 
 you have seen many prints, and, dismounting 
 here, walked round the walls, and entered the 
 citadel. Here again were silence and solitude, 
 peopled only by the shadowy forms of dusky an- 
 tiquity. Yonder is the tomb of Clytemnestra ; in 
 the slope of that hill is the huge dome-shaped 
 subterranean chamber, called the treasury of Aga- 
 memnon ; here are the foundations of ancient 
 palaces and castles, as solid almost as the rocks 
 themselves on which they were built. Here 
 Agamemnon lived, and reigned, and was slain. 
 Here and at Argos, which lies in sight, those 
 bloody scenes of the JEschylean drama were en- 
 acted, the Thyestian banquet, the murder of 
 Agamemnon, the return of Orestes, the slay-
 
 300 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ing of his guilty mother, the ghost, the Fu- 
 ries, the flight. 
 
 I read a part of the Agamemnon here, then 
 we galloped over the plain to Argos, which lies 
 much nearer the sea, on the plain, and just beneath 
 the citadel. 
 
 Mycenae was the Homeric fortress ; Argos, the 
 later centre of wealth and power. At Mycenae 
 there is nothing but antiquity ; Argos is a large 
 modern village, with no trace of antiquity except 
 the stone seats of the theatre in the slope of the 
 citadel. 
 
 We rode through the village, attended by a 
 ragged troop of Argive boys, to see the theatre. 
 This is the only place where we have had any 
 impudence from boys. The young rascals fol- 
 lowed us, clamoring for baksheesh, a word they 
 have retained from Turkish times. We refused, 
 and they pursued us with insults, until we reached 
 a police station. 
 
 The sun came out once or twice as we were 
 crossing the plain of Argos, illuminating the rare 
 beauty of valley and mountain range ; but in 
 general the overclouded heavens lent only a gray 
 light, which, however, harmonized well with the 
 immeasurable age of the ruins. We determined 
 to continue our journey to Tiryns, and to stop for 
 the night in the neighboring town of Nauplia. 
 Towards evening we reached the gray old walls 
 of Tiryns, an ancient fortress before the war of
 
 ROAD TO EPIDAURUS. 301 
 
 Troy. It resembles Mycenae, but the walls are 
 even more massive and complete. We walked 
 round these, too, and entering the still remaining 
 gate, in the posts of which are the holes in which 
 the hinges turned, ascended to the citadel. Even- 
 ing came on while we stood on these sad old walls, 
 and we and they seemed to re-enter the dim and 
 shadowy past from which they had emerged. 
 Descending, we mounted, and another hour brought 
 us to the shore and the fortified town of Nauplia. 
 
 There we found a hotel, and took lodgings for 
 the night. Our luggage, through some misunder- 
 standing of the master of the asses, did not come ; 
 and as my writing-materials were with the luggage, 
 I could not follow my usual custom of scribbling a 
 few words Before going to bed. 
 
 Yesterday, the luggage again not appearing, 
 Strattis the Lesbian despatched a horseman to 
 Argos, directing the master of the asses to proceed 
 at once to Epidaurus. As all our provisions were 
 with the asses, Strattis bought half a lamb at 
 Nauplia, and, tying it in his pocket-handkerchief, 
 fastened it behind his saddle, across the back of 
 the horse. A basket of fish and some oranges 
 were swung at the saddle-bow ; and, everything 
 being arranged in this nice and comfortable man- 
 ner, we started for Epidaurus. 
 
 The road a mere bridle-path soon ascended 
 the mountains, and continued through a beautiful 
 and picturesque region, the hillsides covered with
 
 302 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the myrtle, arbutus, and other evergreens, and 
 many of the rocky summits crowned with the ruins 
 of ancient castles. 
 
 Five hours of hard riding brought us to the val- 
 
 O O 
 
 ley of Hieron, the ancient seat of a temple of 
 vEsculapius, one of the most renowned of all 
 antiquity. The ground is covered with the foun- 
 dations of many temples, masses of hewn stone, 
 parts of columns, and fragments of an aqueduct ; 
 and up the side of a lofty eminence reach the seats 
 of one of the most gigantic theatres in Greece, 
 built by one of the most famous of the architects. 
 Almost all the seats still remain; but trees and 
 bushes have grown up between them, starting 
 some from their places, and overshadowing others ; 
 and instead of the choruses and tragedies which 
 once resounded here, a solitary bird true and 
 unchanging poet of nature sat in the branches 
 and sang. We climbed the seats to the top, and 
 stood long, contemplating from that commanding 
 height the half-buried ruins that lay below, and 
 the lovely mountains that threw their encircling 
 arms around. 
 
 In the valley still bubbles up from the earth the 
 fountain of Hygeia, once the object of religious 
 homage, and still sending out streams of the sweet- 
 est water in the world. We went down and 
 drank, and gave our horses to drink also. Then 
 we took the road through the mountains again, 
 and winding through a most romantic pass of sev-
 
 DETENTION AT EPIDAURUS. 303 
 
 eral miles, wild as any place in Switzerland, and 
 varied with every charm of rude nature, we at 
 length came in sight of Epidaurus, and the sea, 
 studded with islands. 
 
 Here we stopped for the night ; and as our lug- 
 gage had not vet arrived, Strattis set about pre- 
 
 D o * L 
 
 paring for us a dinner from that lamb behind 
 the saddle and the fishes at the saddle-bow. He 
 boiled the fishes, and roasted the lamb. I dare 
 say you would have hesitated about eating either. 
 You would have made a great mistake then : both 
 especially the lamb were excellent. 
 
 As our luggage did not come, we had to get 
 along as well as we could. Luckily we lodge at 
 a house occupied by a new-married pair of the 
 better sort. For a wonder they have mattresses, 
 coverlets, and even sheets. Spreading these on 
 the floor, we sleep much more comfortably than 
 we did in the Heliconian hut. This morning we 
 find a heavy rain that makes it impossible to quit 
 our quarters ; and it looks as if it had set in for a 
 long storm, so that, again, it is quite uncertain when 
 we get back to Athens. The mountains are del- 
 uged, and the sea beats wildly against the shore 
 just under our window. We set out for a journey 
 of ten days ; we have already been seventeen days 
 from Athens, and, like the returning heroes of the 
 Trojan war, are still arrested by winds and waves, 
 with no Calypso's Isle, no Alcinoiis's gardens, 
 to cheer our homesick souls. We look out upon
 
 304 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the roaring deep, like Ulysses, desirous " to behold 
 the smoke rising from our dear native land." 
 
 Evening. We have passed the first of Decem- 
 ber here, in one of the most tremendous storms I 
 ever witnessed, rain in a deluge, with thunder 
 and lightning all day. We have not been able to 
 leave the house, and, though the water came in at 
 many points, we were thankful to have reached 
 such comfortable shelter. 
 
 To add to our embarrassment, we find that two 
 of our horses have fallen sick, and may not be able 
 to carry us farther. In that case we shall have to 
 procure a couple of Epidaurian mules for the rest 
 of our journey. Disastrous downfall of human 
 pride, to leave Athens on chargers from Thes- 
 saly, prancing proudly over the plain ; to return 
 on a pair of shabby donkeys from Epidaurus, just 
 tall enough to keep one's feet from dragging on 
 the ground ! My Munich hat, too, I left at Nau- 
 plia, having bought a cloth cap ; and it was high 
 time. The hat had gone through the battle of 
 Marathon, had weathered the siege of Plataea, 
 survived the fight of Leuctra, stood the three 
 days of Thermopylae, witnessed the tragic scenes 
 of Thebes, Corinth, Delphi, Mycenae, and Argos, 
 and, after these various experiences, was really 
 the worst-looking hat I ever owned or saw. That 
 is saying a good deal. Respect for the feelings of 
 Mr. C , and the possibility of getting a cap at
 
 SCENE OF THE AGAMEMNON. 305 
 
 Nauplia, for the first time since we left Athens, 
 led me to sacrifice an old friend that had borne 
 the brunt of so many fields. 
 
 During this expedition I have read Sophocles, 
 JEschylus, Strabo, and Pausanias, and have set- 
 tled in my own mind the disputed question be- 
 tween Mycenae and Argos, as the scene of the 
 Agamemnon. In the arrangement of the signal- 
 fires, the last before striking on the roof of the 
 AtreidsB is placed on the Arachnaean mountain, 
 " a height neighboring the city." Now Pausanias 
 says the Arachnagan mountain was over Lerna ; 
 and Lerna we visited yesterday, and the mountain 
 that overhangs the town is not in sight of Myce- 
 nae at all, but in full sight of Argos. A signal-fire 
 lighted on its summit would be seen instantly at 
 Argos, and not at all at Mycenas. If this is not 
 conclusive as to the poet's conception of the scene, 
 I do not know what can be. Other arguments 
 convinced me before, as they had convinced Ot- 
 fried Miiller and many others. I am not sorry to 
 have a deliberately formed opinion confirmed by 
 the unquestionable arguments of the natural scen- 
 ery, which must be supposed to have been in the 
 poet's mind when he wrote. 
 
 A day of so few incidents nothing but rain, 
 thunder, and lightning gives but little to write 
 about ; so good night. 
 
 December 2, Evening. We are still in this place, 
 
 T
 
 806 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 sacred to ^Esculapius. The bad weather and sick 
 horses make it impossible to depart. Last night 
 it not only rained, but blew violently. This morn- 
 ing we found that a house had been blown down, 
 and a mill swept away with all its contents, and 
 carried out to sea. A stream, swollen into a vio- 
 lent torrent, has broken down fences, torn up 
 trees by the roots, and ravaged the country, in 
 a manner unknown " to the oldest inhabitant." 
 The sea was angrily chafing the shores, and had 
 dashed a boat moored near our lodgings to pieces. 
 Clouds were hurrying over the mountains, as if to 
 attend a stormy meeting on the summit of Par- 
 nassus. We had nothing to do but submit. 
 
 Towards noon the weather looked a little bet- 
 ter. We mounted our donkeys, to visit some 
 pieces of sculpture about a mile from the village, 
 and to examine the foundations of the ancient 
 city of Epidaurus. We sat on pack-saddles, and 
 guided the animals by ropes ; but they were obsti- 
 nate, and kept their own pace. 
 
 We found blocks of hewn stone ; lines of an- 
 cient wall ; fragments of statues, especially one 
 mutilated but beautiful figure, without a head, 
 draped and lying on a couch, some patient, who 
 had resorted hither for health. It was lying alone, 
 on the ground, a singular and touching figure, so 
 long preserved after the original had mingled with 
 the dust. The walls of the city are all overgrown 
 with trees and bushes ; the ever-renewing life of
 
 RAINY WEATHER IN GREECE. 307 
 
 nature triumphing over the works of man. We 
 looked at all these things with great interest. A 
 heavy rain overtook us before we regained our 
 quarters, and put an end to a half-formed project 
 of starting oft' on our donkeys. So here we are 
 for another night. We mean to get off to-mor- 
 row, if possible ; but as the peasants here say, " As 
 God wills." It is extraordinary how much bad 
 weather we have had on this journey. The peo- 
 ple tell us they never knew such a succession of 
 stormy days. In other countries the weather 
 makes but little difference in the facility of trav- 
 elling ; but here a few days of rain render the 
 bridle-paths dangerous, and send the torrents roar- 
 ing and foaming down from the mountains to the 
 plain, exactly as Homer describes them, " tear- 
 ing up fields, breaking down fences, and destroy- 
 ing the works of man." This forenoon a boat put 
 in here in distress. The crew came near perish- 
 ing in the Saronic Gulf. We still hope to reach 
 Athens next Monday, though that is doubtful.
 
 308 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 SOPHIKO, December 3. 
 
 AFTER about fifteen days of rain, this morn- 
 ing, for a wonder, it rained again, harder 
 than ever. But, as the horses were pronounced 
 convalescent, we made up our minds to set out, 
 and see what would turn up. Epidaurus was a 
 great place in ancient times ; but at present, when 
 you have seen the statue of the sick man, its re- 
 sources are nearly exhausted. Two days in such 
 a place is enough to gratify the most exorbitant 
 curiosity. 
 
 Last evening, as there was no fireplace in our 
 room, we took a fancy to go into the family room 
 adjoining, and have a bit of a chat with our enter- 
 tainers. C filled his pipe, and I put on my 
 
 capote, and together we proceeded to make a soci- 
 able call. I told you that a young couple, married 
 only twenty-five days, occupied the house. We 
 found the mother-in-law sitting by the fire. We 
 sitting down, (we carried our own chairs, that 
 being the fashion in the polished circles of Epi- 
 daurus,) the old lady gave us a history of her 
 life, how she married a husband, who built the 
 house and died in seven years, how she took
 
 A MOUNTAIN MONASTERY. 309 
 
 another husband, who died in nine months, how 
 she had a thousand olive-trees, and was left alone 
 with an only daughter, how she took the son of 
 a poppas (priest) to help her, how he fell in love 
 with her daughter, and the daughter with him, 
 how she gave him her daughter and half the prop- 
 erty, meaning to give him the whole if he behaved 
 well, and so on. While this story was telling by the 
 
 light of a wood-fire and the smoke of C 's pipe, 
 
 happening to look round, I noticed that the young 
 couple had gone to bed in one corner of the room, 
 and Strattis told us that the mother-in-law slept in 
 the same bed. All this was queer, but according to 
 Grecian customs ; and it will serve to give you a 
 notion of the simplicity of life in this classic land. 
 
 It costs this family to live a thousand drachmas 
 a year, about $ 166 ; and they are decidedly the 
 first family in Epidaurus. They keep a shop, and 
 sell rak7ii, a kind of rum, and a few onions, in 
 virtue of which they constitute the Epidaurian 
 aristocracy. 
 
 As we journeyed on, we saw, everywhere, the 
 ravages of the storm, and the sudden overflow of 
 the mountain torrents ; but we got along without 
 much difficulty, by the aid of a local guide. Our 
 road turned into the mountains, and in a few hours 
 brought us to a large monastery, inhabited by 
 about twenty monks. Being thoroughly wet, we 
 stopped here to dry ourselves, and to rest our 
 horses. The good fathers were very obliging,
 
 310 FAMILIAR LKTTERS. 
 
 gave us a good fire, and plenty of bread, honey, 
 and wine. On this journey I have taken nothing 
 but hot tea and coffee, except for the first day or 
 two, when I was told to use a little brandy. But 
 I soon found that hot tea, without milk, was the 
 best possible safeguard against exposures, and ex- 
 posures are inevitable on such a journey. We 
 dried ourselves pretty thoroughly, and took a fresh 
 start. The monastery is in a valley among the 
 mountains. It was almost inundated. Yesterday, 
 on the other side of the mountain, a man and a 
 woman were drowned. To-day, we crossed the 
 spot ; the stream had subsided, and we had no 
 difficulty. 
 
 Sophiko is one of the villages Dr. Howe fed 
 with provisions from America during the Greek 
 Revolution. I wish you would tell him that, 
 though they remember his services to them, they 
 are the greatest rascals we have met in Greece. 
 
 As we entered the town, our guide called on 
 the Demarchos, or chief magistrate, to find a 
 room. He was a fustinellied fellow, with a vil- 
 lanous hang-dog look, and tried to make us pay 
 for the worst room we have yet been in more than 
 three times as much as we have paid for the best. 
 When Strattis told him that the gentlemen would 
 not pay so much, the rascal said, " Leave the gen- 
 tlemen to me, and they will pay it." He mistook 
 his men all round, and this precious Demarchos 
 slunk ' away like a whipped dog. Other Sophi-
 
 SOPHIKO. 311 
 
 kians were nearly as bad. They tried to over- 
 charge the straw for the horses, and every other 
 thing we wanted to get. But luckily our bar- 
 gain was with Strattis at so much a day ; and 
 he is Greek, and knows perfectly well how to 
 meet Greek, in the tug of war. 
 
 There is a great noise in the town. The elec- 
 tions which have been going on for about a month 
 are finished to-day. Guns are firing, men are 
 shouting, and half the citizens seem to be tipsy. 
 They drink a great deal of verv bad wine here in 
 
 J / 
 
 Greece. Soldiers are everywhere too, a bad 
 element, when out of proportion to the peaceful 
 classes. Three or four citizens of Sophiko are 
 looking over my shoulder as I write.
 
 312 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XLIL 
 
 KINETTA, December 4. 
 
 I DARE say you are tired of this long rain. I 
 am, at all events, and this morning all the 
 discomforts and petty villanies of Sophiko were 
 amply made up by the appearance of the long-lost 
 sun. The rogues in Dr. Howe's town made us 
 pay even for the water we used. One would 
 think that, after fifteen days of rain, that, at 
 least, might have been had gratuitously. Not 
 so thought the philosophical Sophikians. 
 
 Our road wound up a high mountain, whence 
 we had the Saronic Gulf, JSgina, Attica, before us ; 
 and in the north the heights of Parnassus came 
 once more in sight, loaded with snow which has 
 been falling there during this long storm. We 
 had the loveliest view of the Isthmus of Corinth, 
 above which rises the majestic Acropolis. Our 
 road lay through groves of pine, which extend al- 
 most down to the beach. A soft wind blew, and 
 the pines murmured over our heads, while the sea 
 resounded at our feet. On the distant mountains 
 lay masses of silvery cloud, the remnants of the 
 storm ; and Greece, the greater part of which we 
 saw from the mountain overhanging the Saronic
 
 KINETTA. 313 
 
 Gulf, looked thoroughly drenched ; but she came 
 out from the drenching with a smile upon her 
 sweet face. The sky seemed bluer, and the light 
 softer, and the hills of a more delicate purple than 
 ever. jEgina lay in the distance, as if reposing, 
 while just before us extended the famous Salamis, 
 with its deep blue strait, which drowned the Per- 
 sian hosts. 
 
 We passed Kechrises, the ancient harbor of Cor- 
 inth ; passed the ruined house on the Isthmus, 
 built by Dr. Howe, as a magazine of American 
 charities during the war, a monument quite as 
 interesting to me as any that antiquity has left ; 
 passed the ruined piles of the ancient wall which 
 ran across the Isthmus ; passed the spot where the 
 Isthmian Games were celebrated ; rested an hour 
 at Kalamaki, the port of the Isthmus, where the 
 steamers stop ; and all this afternoon have ridden 
 along the sea-shore, with the most exquisite pano- 
 rama of mountain, sea, and plain around us that 
 imagination can conceive. 
 
 As the sun went down behind the hills of Mo- 
 rea, which we had crossed this morning, the play 
 of colors over the water, the islands, the hills of 
 Megara and Attica, the transparent blue, the 
 deepening purple, the gold that edged the clouds, 
 presented a spectacle of extraordinary splendor, 
 and we forgot the many drenchings of showery 
 Jove, as we looked with admiration upon it. 
 
 As night fell we reached this place, a ruined 
 
 14
 
 314 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 village with not a single house, only a few bare 
 rooms, with walls of mud, temporarily occupied by 
 a few laborers from Megara. We have taken pos- 
 session of one, which has a sort of fireplace, but no 
 window, where we pass the night. Yanni Bulgar 
 has cooked our last turkey, an excellent one it 
 
 was ; we had our last cup of tea ; C smoked 
 
 his last tobacco, and to-morrow we hope to reach 
 Athens in time for dinner.
 
 THE SCIRONIAN ROCKS. 315 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 ATHENS, December 6. 
 
 YESTERDAY morning we were up betimes, 
 breakfasted by candle-light, finishing our 
 eggs, our honey, our coffee, and our last cold tur- 
 key (except a drumstick or two reserved for lun- 
 cheon), and mounted our Thessalian grays at day- 
 break. Our road lay for a time along the shore ; 
 then climbed the sides of the precipitous mountains 
 which overhang the blue waters. In places, the an- 
 cient road, cut in the solid rock, or supported on the 
 precipices by equally solid masonry, still exists, with 
 the deep traces worn by chariot-wheels ; but gener- 
 ally it is broken down, and the horse picks his way 
 slowly among the ruins that encumber the path. 
 
 For a considerable distance pine-trees were 
 growing down to the water's edge ; and the morn- 
 ing breeze sang among their green branches to the 
 answering sea that swept murmuring up to their 
 feet. The distant waters, the islands that stud the 
 gulf, the shores of the Morea, lay still and dim, 
 but beautiful, in the gray twilight. We passed 
 under the red cliffs, known as the Scironian Rocks, 
 whence Sciron, the ancient robber, kicked his vic- 
 tims into the sea, a level distance of not more
 
 316 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 than twenty rods, a mere trifle for such a for- 
 midable fellow. Theseus, you remember, inter- 
 fered with this amusement, and treated Sciron in 
 the same way. The spot is a remarkable one, the 
 cliffs hanging overhead and frowning upon the pass- 
 er-by. As we journeyed on, over this most pictu- 
 resque of roads, at this quiet hour, gradually the 
 blue hills of Attica were illuminated by the rosy 
 fingers of Aurora ; the morning mists sparkled 
 with the ruddy glow ; the clouds put on their gold 
 and purple fringes, and the new-born day, shooting 
 his beams across the Saronic Gulf, hung his dia- 
 monds on the curling waves, and striking the dis- 
 tant mountains of the Peloponnesus with his fiery 
 arrows, kindled their snowy summits into a blaze. 
 Upon my word, " I am afeard," as old Weller says, 
 " this is werging on the poetical." All I can say 
 is, that a horseback ride at sunrise along the Sa- 
 ronic Gulf is not an every-day occurrence, and I 
 can neither write nor speak of it as if it were. . 
 
 At length we turned to the left, crossing the 
 mountain of Kerata, and came in sight of the 
 lovely plain of Megara, and the graceful sweep of 
 the harbor of Nisaea. A gallop of half an hour 
 brought us to the modern town. A few hewn 
 stones are all that remain of its former magnifi- 
 cence. From here to Athens there is a good car- 
 riage-road. We rested a short time ; then gal- 
 loped over the plain, through olive-groves ; then 
 along the picturesque shore of the Bay of Eleusis ;
 
 THE PASS OF DAPHNE. 317 
 
 then, crossing a promontory, came in sight of the 
 ruins which cover the ground and the hillside of 
 the ancient town. 
 
 We stopped at Eleusis to examine the splendid, 
 but prostrate ruins of the great Temple of Ceres, 
 built of the purest Pentelic marble. From the 
 Acropolis that crowned the ancient city the view 
 takes in the island of Salamis, and the pass where 
 the great sea-fight took place ; the Karian and 
 Thrianian plains, so famous in Grecian history, 
 and the passes of Cithaeron and Daphne. Having 
 examined every trace of antiquity, and repeopled 
 the hill and plain with imaginary processions, like 
 those which anciently crowded the Sacred Way 
 from Athens hither when the great Eleusinian 
 mysteries were celebrated, we entered into a treaty 
 with the owner of a pair of horses and a rickety 
 carriage, to take us to Athens, desirous of ar- 
 riving before evening. 
 
 The treaty was at length concluded ; and, amidst 
 a crowd of dirty Eleusinian men, women, and chil- 
 dren, we left the city of the " Two Goddesses," 
 driven by a dirty Eleusinian Jehu, and drawn by 
 a mismatched pair of Eleusinian steeds, about as 
 large as wharf-rats. We rattled over the Sacred 
 Way ; one of the rats lost his shoe ; we contin- 
 ued to rattle ; one of the traces broke ; still we 
 rattled ; the lash flew off the handle ; still we 
 rattled on. Arriving at the pass of Daphne, we 
 took a farewell look at the fine scenery connected
 
 318 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 with so many interesting associations, through 
 which we had passed. 
 
 We rattled on to the ruined convent of Daphne, 
 where we stopped to see the old Byzantine pic- 
 tures in the church ; the dusty stone coffins of 
 two Middle- Age Dukes of Athens who were bur- 
 ied here ; and two or three dustier and stonier 
 and more than middle-aged nuns, who are buried 
 here also, though still pretending to be alive. 
 They seemed to me contemporaries of the Dukes, 
 only Death, observing the crumbling walls, and 
 falling roofs, and fading pictures, forgot the breath- 
 ing remnants of mortality that haunted, ghostlike, 
 the ancient chambers, and, sweeping by in pursuit 
 of other game, left them to creep down from cen- 
 tury to century, and finally to dry up and float 
 away on the evening breeze. I am sure they 
 will come to that at last. 
 
 Again we rattled on. Hymettus, clothed in 
 blue, came in sight ; Parnes lifted his front, dark- 
 ened with clouds ; the sunny plain of Athens 
 smiled a welcome ; the harbor of Peirseus lay glis- 
 tening and calm, as in a summer day ; the Acrop- 
 olis the columns of the Parthenon more au- 
 gust and solemn in their eternal beauty than 
 they ever seemed before rose against the sky ; 
 the olive-groves of Plato lay just below us, and 
 Pentelicus showed his marble splendors, that re- 
 flected the westering sun. 
 
 We rattled on, the dirty Eleusinian vociferat-
 
 ARRIVAL AT ATHENS. 319 
 
 ing to his rats, and the carriage threatening to 
 tumble in pieces at every pebble. We rattled 
 through the olive-grove ; we rattled past the ma- 
 jestic Temple of Theseus ; we rattled into the 
 street of .Jllolus, under the shadow of the Acrop- 
 olis ; we rattled througli the crowds that filled 
 that fashionable promenade, and, rattling up to the 
 door of the hotel, were joyfully received by our 
 friends, and gladly reached our old quarters. But 
 how that dirty Eleusinian driver, with his rickety 
 carriage and discordant rats, managed to get us 
 from Eleusis to Athens is an Eleusinian mystery 
 which I am totally incompetent to fathom. 
 
 Here I am, however. I have tried to give you 
 a faithful account of a journey, to me of unu- 
 sual interest, but of more than common hardship 
 and exposure. Its ups and downs, especially the 
 latter, its haps and mishaps, its many enjoy- 
 ments, its frequent drenchings, have been jotted 
 down from day to day. 
 
 Last evening I went" over to Mr. Wyse's, and 
 finding there Lord John Hay (the commander of 
 a ship of war, whom I had met at Constantinople) 
 and the Earl of Carlisle, who has been a couple 
 of weeks in Athens, I had a delightful evening. 
 Nothing could exceed the cordiality of their 
 greetings. Pray tell Mr. Winthrop how much I 
 am Mr. Wyse's debtor for every kindness a stran- 
 ger can possibly receive, and for the richest intel- 
 lectual entertainment one man can give another.
 
 320 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 ATHENS, December 15. 
 
 SINCE my last letter but little has happened 
 in Athens. I believe I have told you that I 
 am established, during my stay here, at the hotel. 
 It is impossible to get private lodgings, and the 
 only way of living with tolerable comfort is to take 
 lodgings in the hotel. We have for permanent 
 boarders at the table-cPJidte one of the Secretaries 
 
 of the British Embassy, Mr. and Mrs. W , 
 
 Russians, also connected, with diplomacy, and the 
 Secretary of the Russian Legation. There are 
 some families living in the house, but they take 
 their meals in their own drawing-rooms. Besides 
 these, the travellers who pass through Athens, on 
 their way to the East, generally stop here ; so that 
 we have a pretty good variety of company, some 
 of it very amusing. 
 
 About a month ago, a short, fat, brisk, rosy- 
 faced, bald-headed, rather elderly man made his 
 appearance at table, on his way to the Holy Land. 
 He began at once to talk about a mishap he had 
 met with at the Isthmus of Corinth. He had 
 landed from the steamer, and, though he had not 
 been on horseback for twenty years, he immedi-
 
 A GROTESQUE TRAVELLER. 321 
 
 ately galloped up the Acrocorinthos, but, "figu- 
 rez-vous, Madame" addressing himself to Madame 
 W , " I tore a large rent in my only panta- 
 loons ; I could find nothing to eat, and only very 
 bad wine to drink." 
 
 We laughed at his misfortunes. He went on 
 to say, that he had studied five years to prepare 
 himself for this tour, that he was a lover of the 
 fine arts, and that wherever he went he made it 
 a point to order the wine of the country ; he 
 wanted something characteristic. He then called for 
 a bottle of Greek wine, at which, being about half 
 turpentine, he made the most ludicrous grimaces. 
 A young Englishman, named Robertson, was here 
 for a few days. Our round little friend was de- 
 lighted, firmly believing he had the honor of con- 
 versing with the celebrated historian of that name, 
 whose works he had read with so much satisfac- 
 tion. Almost every place in the topography of 
 Athens and Attica he got wrong, visiting one, 
 and thinking all the time it was another. One 
 day we were speaking of the extent of the king- 
 dom of Greece. He was astonished to hear that 
 some of its provinces lay north of the Gulf of Cor- 
 inth. We were very curious to know who this 
 busy, brisk little blunderhead could be. Madame 
 
 W thought he must be some Abbe ; others 
 
 thought him a wine-merchant ; but I was quite 
 puzzled, for it seemed to me that either of these 
 would have known something about Greece after 
 
 14* u
 
 322 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 studying five years. It turned out that he was an 
 employe in the military prison of Belgium. After 
 he had left us, the question arose, what could have 
 brought such an odd specimen of humanity to 
 Athens. A French gentleman suggested that 
 " perhaps he was sent by the Belgian government 
 to visit officially the prison of Socrates." We are 
 all expecting a rich treat from the publication of 
 his book. 
 
 I have dined once, since my return, at Mr. 
 Hill's, and attended a small party the best of 
 the English and of the Greek society in Athens 
 at Mr. Wyse's. For the first time since I left the 
 cabin of the good ship Daniel Webster, I saw a 
 game of whist. I had a long and to me very in- 
 structive conversation with General Sir Richard 
 Church, an Englishman who was the com- 
 mander-in-chief of the Greek armies in the war 
 of independence, and is now naturalized in Greece, 
 himself a living monument of history. Several 
 ladies played the piano, ' and Mrs. sang. 
 
 Last evening, for the first time in Athens, I 
 went to the opera. The theatre is not like the 
 old Dionysiac theatre, at the Acropolis ; nor is 
 King Otho, who was present, much like Pericles. 
 The music was poor ; but the prima donna sang 
 and dressed and looked well. The scenery was 
 good. The Queen listened attentively, but the 
 King went asleep, except while he was staring 
 at the prima donna through his opera-glass. The
 
 PLANS OF TRAVEL. 323 
 
 opera, I should have mentioned, was the Marino 
 Faliero of Donizetti. 
 
 As I came away, at eleven o'clock, the old 
 Acropolis, looking solemnly down upon the city, 
 with the columns of the Parthenon and the Erech- 
 theium, under the moonlight and the mysterious 
 troop of flitting clouds that partially obscured the 
 picture, silently contrasted the greatness of the past 
 with the insignificance of the present, I shall not 
 go to the Athenian opera again. I prefer the 
 Acropolis, the Theseium, the columns of the Olym- 
 pian Jupiter, Hymettus, Pentelicus, Parnes, the 
 Prison of Socrates, the Bema, the Mars Hill of 
 St. Paul, the tragedies, histories, and great cre- 
 ations, which acquire so much additional interest 
 by reading them on the spot. Good night. 
 
 December 18. Since I began this letter, but 
 
 O * 
 
 little has happened out of the ordinary course of 
 thirfgs. I am hard at work, reading and studying 
 Greek, and examining repeatedly the antiquities 
 of Athens, especially on the Acropolis. 
 
 More than two thirds of my time is now gone ; 
 I shall remain for the present quietly in Athens ; 
 and towards the end of my stay here, if I can make 
 a convenient arrangement, I shall make an ex- 
 cursion to Chalcis, another to Sunium, and end 
 with a tour round the Peloponnesus, visiting Ar- 
 gos again, then Mantineia, Sparta, Elis, &c., tak- 
 ing the steamer for Italy at Patras, and joining
 
 324 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 G and the rest of the party at Rome, or per- 
 haps at Naples. I suppose we shall pass at least a 
 month in Rome, and then go to Florence by way 
 of Perugia. 
 
 I have enjoyed my visit to Greece in the high- 
 est possible degree. On the whole, the people 
 please me, though they have not recovered from 
 the effects of their long slavery to the Turks. 
 I mentioned, .in a letter written on our journey, 
 that I had noticed only a few attempts to cheat ; I 
 must mention one here. Two or three days ago 
 I dropped into a barber's shop to have my hair cut. 
 Of course he knew at once that I was a stranger ; 
 and when I asked what was to pay, the rogue an- 
 swered " two drachmas " (about two shillings). 
 I assured him that he was mistaken ; that I knew 
 the price in Athens, and most certainly would not 
 pay him what he asked. I gave him one drach- 
 ma, which was twice the customary charge. He 
 looked foolish and ashamed at being caught in 
 such a petty dishonesty, and pocketed the monev 
 in silence, and I walked away. I was reminded 
 of the amusing description, in one of the letters of 
 Alciphron, of a barber's shop in Athens, and the 
 rogueries practised there. 
 
 Since our return from our journey, the weather 
 has been very various. Yesterday it was clear, 
 exquisitely beautiful, and of a summer heat. I 
 walked through the Agora, over the Pnyx, and 
 along the western side of the Museium hill, to ex-
 
 THE ANTIQUITIES OF ATHENS. 325 
 
 amine the numerous steps, paths,' and squares cut 
 in the living rock. One is surprised to find so 
 numerous vestiges of this kind, all over Athens. 
 They indicate the sites of temples, shrines, votive 
 pillars, tablets, &c., with which these rocky emi- 
 nences were once covered. But the objects them- 
 selves have completely disappeared. I had Pau- 
 sanias with me, and spent several hours in at- 
 tempting to identify the positions of the buildings 
 which he describes as existing in this part of the 
 city. 
 
 As to the Pnyx, or place of assembly for the 
 Demos, there can be no doubt. I sat on the 
 Bema where Demosthenes delivered his great ora- 
 tions, and endeavored to call back the scene, as he 
 describes it in the Oration on the Crown. As I 
 descended, I picked up a bit of marble, - the 
 fragment of a tablet, or statue, or seat, formerly 
 existing there, perhaps seen by Demosthenes 
 himself, as it was within a few feet of where he 
 stood. I shall have it cut and polished, with the 
 word Pnyx carved on it, as a memorial of this 
 most interesting spot. I spent several hours in 
 this survey, and am similarly employed almost 
 every day. 
 
 The antiquities of Athens are very numerous, 
 though not occupying a very large surface. The 
 Acropolis alone contains enough to occupy one 
 many months. The fragments of statues, friezes, 
 pediments, vases, and the immense blocks of the
 
 326 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 walls and pillars of the Parthenon, scattered 
 around it, or lying prostrate on its marble floor, 
 excite an unceasing astonishment. The tablets 
 containing inscriptions are numberless ; they em- 
 ploy Mr. Pittakys nearly all the time. He copies 
 and publishes them in a journal he edits here. 
 The collections he has already made are of great 
 historical importance, and his labors deserve more 
 encouragement than they have yet received from 
 European scholars. 
 
 The literary activity here is immense. It has 
 quite outrun the progress of the Greeks in mate- 
 rial prosperity. The university numbers, in all its 
 departments, six hundred students ; and among 
 the professors, many of whom I already know, are 
 several very distinguished scholars. There are 
 nearly thirty journals published, some of which 
 are ably conducted and admirably written. The 
 books for the schools, gymnasia, and university 
 already fill an extensive catalogue. We found 
 them in the most miserable cottages. The school 
 system is excellently organized, and the people 
 universally are quite aware of the importance of 
 education. 
 
 I cannot say much for the government, judging 
 by what I have seen and heard. The King, edu- 
 cated at the court of Bavaria, has apparently no 
 idea of the duties of a constitutional monarch ; 
 while the Queen the stronger of the two 
 hates the constitution. It is constantly violated
 
 GOVERNMENTAL CORRUPTION. 327 
 
 in the most flagrant manner. The government, 
 at every popular election, prepares a list of candi- 
 dates, and through its agents, by corruption, in- 
 timidation, and sometimes by throwing out the 
 ballots of persons independent enough to vote in 
 opposition, generally procures the return of its 
 own men. The best people refuse to attend the 
 elections, in such a state of things. I had abundant 
 opportunity to notice this, as the elections were 
 going on during my journey. Yet, curiously 
 enough, the right of free speech is not tampered 
 with directly ; and there are not only private cit- 
 izens, but journalists and politicians, who do not 
 hesitate to speak openly. A Senator told me, the 
 other night, that an attempt would be made to 
 pronounce the elections just completed unconsti- 
 tutional. He did not expect much from the mo- 
 tion ; but at all events it would show that there 
 were still independent spirits in the Senate. 
 
 The English are out of favor. The Queen 
 
 never invites the ladies of Mr. W 's family to 
 
 the state balls, a mean and pitiful revenge for 
 fancied political hostility to the now prevailing 
 maxims of the Greek government. I could tell 
 the Queen something that would startle her, about 
 the popular feeling through the country. I think 
 that the mania for despotism which possesses the 
 government at the present moment is preparing a 
 crisis which may overturn the throne. 
 
 Foreign papers as I saw in Galignani the
 
 328 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 other day speak of the tranquillity of the late 
 elections, and the readiness of the people to sup- 
 port the government candidates. The author of 
 the article in Galignani is a letter-writer here in 
 Athens. He is either profoundly ignorant or 
 wilfully mendacious. Perhaps the country peo- 
 ple spoke more freely to me than they would have 
 spoken to a European, knowing me to be an 
 American and a republican ; but I do not doubt 
 that the government is reposing on a volcano, and 
 that an eruption will soon take place, unless the 
 administration is greatly changed. 
 
 But enough of politics for the present. I shall 
 
 write to L by the next steamer. Love to 
 
 her and A .
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE. 329 
 
 XLV. 
 
 ATHENS, December 25, 1853. 
 
 THIS is Christmas day with you, and with 
 the Franks here in Athens. The Greek 
 Church has never received the Gregorian Calen- 
 dar, and the Greek Christmas comes, therefore, 
 twelve days later than that of Western Europe 
 and America. It is the courteous usage, however, 
 for the Greeks to share in the festivities of the 
 European foreigners, paying visits, and receiving 
 them in turn when the Greek Christmas arrives. 
 Both parties to this pleasant arrangement have a 
 double share of the good things this time-hallowed 
 festival brings with it. I have just returned from 
 the morning service in Dr. Hill's church. He 
 gave us an excellent sermon. 
 
 Last evening, Dr. Hill invited me to a little 
 party' at his house, given for the children and 
 young ladies in his school, or rather the school 
 under his care. There was a table covered with 
 presents for the young people, which, however, 
 they were not allowed to see till the moment for 
 their distribution arrived. The ceremonies com- 
 menced by the recitation of pieces appropriate to 
 the occasion by three or four of the younger
 
 330 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 scholars ; then several pieces were sung by the 
 young ladies, accompanied by the piano ; and 
 finally Mrs. Hill distributed the gifts, with appro- 
 priate remarks in Greek to each of the recipients. 
 This afforded a good deal of amusement, and the 
 young people were all highly delighted. You 
 will be convinced that I am not so old as some 
 malicious persons and records make me out, when 
 I tell you that among the other young people I 
 too received a prize as one who had made com- 
 mendable progress. On opening the parcel, I 
 found it contained a beautifully polished square 
 piece of marble from the Parthenon, to one sur- 
 face of which was attached an embroidered cloth, 
 with the figure of Minerva's owl beautifully 
 wrought by the hand of an Athenian damsel, 
 thus combining a memorial of the past with the 
 living present, the goddess of Wisdom, with her 
 consecrated bird, who still haunts the Acropolis, 
 and makes his nest among the crumbling archi- 
 traves of the Parthenon. I felt not a little proud 
 of this trophy, and shall preserve it with especial 
 care. 
 
 Since I wrote you last my occupations have been 
 the same as before. I have attended the lectures 
 at the University, with no other interruption than 
 the saints' days. It is a great misfortune to the 
 Greeks, and to the .Athenians in particular, that 
 they have so many saints in their calendar, and 
 so many festivals in their honor, to interrupt the
 
 BANEFUL INFLUENCE OF HOLIDAYS. 331 
 
 usual business of life. They lose about a quarter 
 or a third of the time in putting on their best 
 clothes, gadding about the streets, gossiping in 
 the coffee-houses, getting tipsy on execrable wine, 
 and singing noisy songs in the streets, in honor of 
 the blessed saints and martyrs who swarm in their 
 ecclesiastical history. The sensible men here are 
 gradually diminishing the number of their idle 
 days, and the sober part of the tradesmen and men 
 of business find their advantage in attending to 
 their affairs, while the rest are dissipating time and 
 drachmas, to the impoverishment of their purses 
 and the damage of their health, in the bacchanalian 
 orgies of orthodoxy, orthodoxy here denoting the 
 Greek Church, the Oriental Orthodox Church, 
 the national Church of Greece, of the Greeks 
 in Turkey, and of the Holy Russian Empire. In 
 the short time that I have been in Athens I have 
 found the University closed three or four times, 
 and, on inquiring the cause, have been told it was 
 the feast of St. Demetrius, St. Spiridion, or some 
 other apocryphal vagabond who had the luck to 
 get his name inserted in the calendar. I suppose 
 our students would like it, if I could introduce 
 some of these orthodox observances at Cambridge 
 on my return. 
 
 To speak seriously, I cannot share in the re- 
 grets of those persons who lament the absence of 
 festivals and amusements in our country. What 
 I have seen of their effects in Europe East and
 
 332 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 West has given me a strong distaste for them, 
 and the worst possible opinion of their influ- 
 ence upon the moral, mental, and physical well- 
 being of the people. In the first place, the loss 
 of so much time to productive industry, in the 
 midst of poverty, is a serious consideration against 
 them. In the next place, the waste of money, in 
 small sums to be sure, but swelling in the aggre- 
 
 7 o oo 
 
 gate to immense amounts, helps to keep the peo- 
 ple poor and to make them poorer. And, finally, 
 the frivolity, dissipation, and low habits every- 
 where encouraged by these festivals, crown the 
 climax of grave objections to their observance, 
 which I think must strike every reflecting person 
 who travels with his eyes open through these 
 countries. You will never again hear me la- 
 menting the want of amusements in America, or 
 finding fault with the serious countenances of our 
 American people. The weekly rest of Sunday, 
 Christmas, Thanksgiving, the anniversary of our 
 Independence, and one or two other holidays for 
 the interchange of friendly salutations and the re- 
 union of scattered families, are infinitely better 
 than all the festivals in the calendars of the Cath- 
 olic and Oriental Churches. 
 
 On Tuesday evening I attended at Mr. A d's 
 
 small party, mostly consisting of European resi- 
 dents in Athens. You must know that all for- 
 eigners here, however much they may differ on 
 the Oriental question, or in articles of religious
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE IN ATHENS. 333 
 
 faith, unite in a common love of tea. No one 
 gives expensive suppers, but everywhere you are 
 entertained with an excellent cup of tea, and some 
 sort of cake. I do not think I ever drank so much 
 tea in so short a time in all my life, and certainly 
 I have nowhere drunk better tea. The Greeks, 
 with few exceptions, are but little addicted to this 
 form of social intercourse. The women of the 
 present generation are not generally well educat- 
 ed. They like to dress up on saints' days, and 
 make or receive calls ; they like balls once in a 
 while ; but for the daily and informal social in- 
 tercourse which is the charm of cultivated life in 
 Western Europe and America, they show but 
 little taste. 
 
 There are exceptions. There are Greek fam- 
 ilies that add to the semi-Oriental culture which 
 is native here the amenities of European refine- 
 ment, the ladies speaking the modern Greek 
 with elegance, and reading the ancient poets with 
 facility, at the same time reading and speaking 
 French, German, and even English. There are 
 some good houses, furnished in the European 
 style, among the best of which are those occupied 
 by the American and English families. But by 
 far the greater part of the houses in Athens are 
 like those in the country, dirty, damp, destitute 
 of the simplest conveniences, with a crowded pop- 
 ulation of men, women, and children. They have 
 not learned to sleep on beds, to sit in chairs at ta-
 
 334 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ble, to wash their faces in the morning, or to take 
 off their clothes at night. When it rains, their 
 floors become mud-puddles, and when the rain is 
 over, they go out and sit down by the side of the 
 street in the sunshine until their floors are dried. 
 They live on coarse bread, cheese of sheep's milk, 
 a little fruit when they can get it, and now and 
 then a pitcher of turpentine and wine. Once in 
 a while they eat meat, generally lamb or mutton. 
 But when they walk through the streets, they strut 
 as if they were lords of the creation. If you come 
 too near them, you incur the most imminent risk 
 of getting an immigration of vermin, who are al- 
 ways eager to strike up a sudden friendship with 
 strangers, but whose name it is improper to men- 
 tion to ears polite. I therefore am wont to give 
 these strutting Pallecars a pretty wide berth, and 
 to look upon them with the most distant respect. 
 
 December 30. Yesterday was one of the most 
 delicious days I ever passed. The air was of the 
 most transparent clearness ; the temperature soft 
 and warm ; the sky of the serenest blue. Wher- 
 ever a branch or a green leaf offered a foothold, 
 birds were singing as if the winter were gone and 
 the spring had taken its place. I was in the open 
 air through the greater part of the day. 
 
 At noon, Dr. Roeser, the King's physician, 
 called to accompany me to the Minister of Foreign 
 Affairs. From his office we drove to the palace
 
 PRESENTATION AT COURT. 335 
 
 to pay our respects to the MegdU Kyria or Grande 
 Maitresse. I had not before performed this cere- 
 mony, and was a little curious to get this peep into 
 the royal household. 
 
 The Grande Maitresse is the widow of some 
 very illustrious German, of blessed memory, whose 
 name, however, I have entirely forgotten. She 
 is the confidante and bosom friend of the Queen, 
 and, as such, the object of homage to the fashion- 
 able world of Athens. 
 
 The next move I have to make is to be pre- 
 sented to their Majesties. I had not intended to 
 take this step ; but Dr. Roeser mentioned to the 
 Queen that I was in Athens, that I was a friend 
 
 of Mrs. P 's, &c., and had come to Greece as 
 
 a scholar, for the purpose of studying the people 
 and language ; and her Majesty was pleased to 
 convey, through Dr. Roeser, an intimation I 
 use the Doctor's own words that she would be 
 gratified to make my acquaintance. I told the 
 Doctor I should feel myself highly honored by a 
 presentation to their Majesties, but being a simple 
 traveller, with no claim whatever to ask it, I had 
 forborne to speak or even think about it. How- 
 ever, I should be highly flattered, &c., <fec., &c. 
 We have no diplomatic representative here, except 
 the Vice-Consul, Dr. King ; and, by the etiquette 
 of the court, an official of that grade cannot pre- 
 sent^ he can only accompany the visitor to the 
 palace, and consign him to the hands of the Grand
 
 336 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Chamberlain. Dr. Roeser has requested Mr. 
 Paicos, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, to present 
 me ; and I suppose that will be the course. 
 
 January 8. Since I began this letter, I have 
 been more closely than ever occupied with my 
 studies. But before I enter into any particulars I 
 must tell you of mj presentation. This morning 
 I attended church ; after church, took a long walk, 
 and, as the weather was superb, lingered longer 
 than usual from spot to spot, tracing the vestiges 
 of the ancient wall of Athens, so that I did not 
 reach my room until five o'clock. Arriving there, 
 I found a notice on my table that their Majesties 
 would receive me at seven o'clock this evening. 
 So I had to examine my wardrobe, brush my coat, 
 fit my gloves, make sure of my white cravat, 
 the same I bought for the Gran Scala at Milan, 
 
 get a hurried dinner, order a carriage, and 
 dress. You would have laughed, I think, at the 
 sight. 
 
 Well, I accomplished these multifarious duties 
 in a very short time. I do not think you would 
 have known my coat, hardly me, so spruced up 
 were both of us. Dr. King went with me to the 
 palace, to present me to the Grand Chamberlain, 
 
 a son of old General Colletti, one of the heroes 
 of the revolution. 
 
 We went up the grand staircase, into the ante- 
 chamber, and in a moment the Chamberlain ap-
 
 CONVERSATION WITH THE KING AND QUEEN. 337 
 
 peared to conduct me into the royal presence. 
 The hall of reception the throne room is as 
 handsome as any I saw in Western Europe. 
 There was no other person to be presented, and I 
 confess that my experience with our republican 
 court at Washington was not a very useful guide 
 in circumstances so novel. The door opened, and 
 in I must go. The Grand Chamberlain stopped 
 at the door ; the Grande Maitresse was visible in 
 the distance, near the other end of the hall. As 
 soon as I was inside the door I bowed I had 
 been told a little what to do to their Majesties, 
 who stood about a third the length of the room 
 from the door, 'and, advancing to the presence, 
 bowed two or three times more before I got within 
 hailing distance. 
 
 My reception by both King and Queen was 
 most gracious, and the conversation went on as 
 smoothly as possible. After some words of sal- 
 utation, (you know the person presented like 
 a ghost never speaks until he is spoken to,) the 
 Queen asked, "Have you been long in Greece?" 
 
 " About three months, your Majesty." 
 
 King. " You are occupied with the study of the 
 Greek language ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty." 
 
 " With the modern as well as the ancient ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, that is the principal object 
 of my travels in Greece." 
 
 " The pronunciation of the Greek is very differ- 
 15 v
 
 338 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 ent in America and England from the pronuncia- 
 tion here." 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, so different that the Greek 
 seems like two languages." 
 
 Queen. " How many students have you in the 
 University of Cambridge ? " 
 
 't Exactly the same number, your Majesty, as 
 are now in the University of Athens." 
 
 Queen. "The same number? But you have 
 many universities in America." 
 
 " Yes, we have many." 
 
 King. " What are the principal subjects or 
 branches studied in the American universities ? " 
 
 " The general studies, your Majesty, are the 
 Classics, the Mathematics, Physics, Philosophy." 
 
 King. " Which of the professions attracts most 
 of the young men ? " 
 
 " The law, I think, since that is the profession 
 which opens a political career." 
 
 King. "In Greece the study of Medicine and 
 Theology are favorite studies." 
 
 " Yes, the Greek physicians have always 
 been very distinguished." 
 
 " In what departments do your writers excel ? " 
 
 " Your Majesty, we have many writers in vari- 
 ous departments. We have poets," (I thought of 
 asking, if he had ever heard of Longfellow,) " we ' 
 have historians, &c." 
 
 " Are the sciences much cultivated ? " 
 
 " They are, especially the natural sciences.
 
 COURT DIFFICULTIES ADJUSTED. 339 
 
 Since Professor Agassiz has resided in the United 
 States, he has given an extraordinary impulse to 
 the department, and excited an ardent scientific 
 spirit." 
 
 Some things more were said ; his Majesty 
 bowed, saying, "lam delighted to know you"; 
 I bowed my thanks, and, backing carefully towards 
 the door, bowed every two or three steps ; their 
 Majesties receded bowing ; then I, peeping over 
 my shoulder and seeing that I was near the door, 
 bowed very low, and vanished from the presence. 
 It is not so difficult to get into the royal presence ; 
 but to get out again is a matter of no small deli- 
 cacy. However, I got out without any catastro- 
 phe, and, to tell the truth, a good deal pleased with 
 the amiable manners of their Hellenic Majesties. 
 The Queen is a little past her beautiful prime, 
 being now about thirty-six years old ; but she is 
 a very fine woman, and in her port and attitude 
 every inch a queen. 
 
 I mentioned, in one of my letters, the difficul- 
 ties existing between the ladies of Mr. W 's 
 
 family and the Queen. These have all been ad- 
 justed. The Emperor of France instructed his 
 minister here to interpose, and put an end to this 
 state of things ; and his intervention was so suc- 
 cessful that the Queen sent for the ladies, received 
 them in the most cordial manner, and made, not 
 
 only Mrs. W , who was a little lame from an 
 
 injury, sit down, but her daughter also, quite
 
 340 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 an extraordinary thing in a court. So far as I 
 can understand the matter, they were not in the 
 least to blame, and the course of the Queen is a 
 
 silent admission of the fact. The W s have 
 
 the good taste to show no sense of triumph, though 
 it is in reality a triumph of downright English 
 honesty over a Russian intrigue, the object of 
 which was to force Mr. W to ask a recall. 
 
 I fancy the Russian influence here is on the de- 
 cline ; and though Mr. W is a man who will 
 
 engage in no contest of intrigues, I should not 
 wonder if his open and honorable character drove 
 the lying diplomates from the field. I have rarely 
 met a man whom I liked so much, and in whom I 
 saw so much to admire. 
 
 After my grand reception, I took tea at Dr. 
 King's, and about nine o'clock walked home. 
 The evening was glorious, the air was mild as 
 summer, and the moon filled the tranquil heavens 
 with light. Over the darkness of the Acropolis 
 hung the loveliest star in the sky, and the solemn 
 temples lay silent and mournful, as if dreaming of 
 the past, under the azure canopy of the night.
 
 A PUBLIC FUNERAL. 341 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 ATHENS, January 14. 
 
 THE present season in Athens is one of idle- 
 ness, gayety, and festivity. The holidays 
 in the University have caused me the loss of lec- 
 tures for about a fortnight, and now my time has 
 nearly expired. One week more will probably 
 wind up my residence in Greece. 
 
 Last Wednesday I attended a great public fu- 
 neral. General Hadgi Chrettos, one of the most 
 distinguished officers of the Greek Revolution, 
 suddenly died the day before. Here, it is the in- 
 variable custom to bury the dead the day after 
 death. The church of St. Eirdne was crowded 
 with officers and people of every class, and, be- 
 sides the usual services, a discourse was delivered 
 by the Archbishop of Patras, and an immense pro- 
 cession followed the old warrior to the grave. On 
 the same day I took two young Englishmen over 
 the city, and afterwards dined with Dr. King in 
 company with a few other friends. There was a 
 rumor circulated through the city that the Arch- 
 bishop of Athens had suddenly died, and was to 
 be buried on Thursday. The ceremonies on such 
 an occasion are very peculiar, and we all resolved
 
 342 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 we would attend. I mentioned it to some Eng- 
 lish travellers who had just arrived, and we went 
 early in the morning to the church of St. Eirne. 
 But no preparations seemed to have been made ; 
 the doorkeeper said that no orders had been 
 
 given ; and, finally, Mr. A , who had also 
 
 come to the church to ascertain the hour of the 
 burial for some friends from the Peiraeus, inquir- 
 ing of a priest, learned that, so far from intending 
 to be buried that day, the Archbishop was in un- 
 commonly good health. 
 
 In the afternoon I went to make a little visit 
 which I had long contemplated, at the house of 
 Rev. Mr. B , at the Peiraeus. It was a pleas- 
 ant afternoon. We took a boat, and went out to 
 the extremity of the harbor to see the tomb of 
 Themistocles, a place excavated just in the 
 edge of the rock, looking over the strait of Salamis 
 to the island, and precisely in the range of the spot 
 where the battle was fought. We had a beautiful 
 sail over these classical waters, and then, walking 
 along the shore, examined the foundations of the 
 
 o 7 
 
 ancient walls, which are so remarkable in this 
 quarter. 
 
 We got back to Mr. B 's house to a late 
 
 dinner, and in the evening Mr. and Mrs. Black 
 and their handsome daughter came in to tea. 
 Mrs. Black, you know, is Byron's maid of Athens. 
 At tea I had the felicity of sitting between the old 
 maid of Athens and the young maid of Athens,
 
 GREEK PRONUNCIATION. 343 
 
 Mrs. Black will not speak a word of English ; but 
 she is a sprightly woman yet, and must have been 
 very piquante and handsome when Byron was 
 here. The daughter speaks English a little, but 
 prefers to speak in Greek. 
 
 We had an amusing time. I repeated to Mrs. 
 Black some sentences in Greek, pronounced in 
 the English and American style, and the shouts of 
 laughter which the ladies raised would have edi- 
 fied an Oxford Professor. There is nothing more 
 comical than the figure an English scholar cuts 
 when he first comes to Athens. He may have 
 taken the first honors of his University, and written 
 prize odes without number ; yet he cannot utter 
 a sentence that any mortal in Athens will under- 
 stand, nor can he understand a single word he 
 hears in the streets or in society. The Professors 
 laugh at him ; the women laugh at him ; the boys 
 in the street laugh at him. He can buy a cravat 
 only by drawing his hand round his neck, as if 
 he were preparing for the halter. If he wants 
 something to eat, he must open his mouth and point 
 down his throat. If he wants a hat, he must lay 
 his hand on his head and say, " Eh ! " For a pair 
 of stockings, he must pull off his shoes, and, hold- 
 ing his foot up to the shopkeeper, show the holes 
 in the old ones ; and so on. The Oxford and 
 Cambridge prize man is the most helpless creature 
 under the sun, when some strange fortune lands 
 him on the shores of Greece, unless he picks up
 
 344 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 a servant who can speak some Western language 
 with which he happens to be acquainted. All 
 this, because the Greek is taught wholly as a dead 
 language, apart from its living representative, and 
 with an absurd and arbitrary pronunciation, to 
 which we cling as if its rules were the Ten Com- 
 mandments. The spoken language of Athens 
 appears to me very pure and elegant, and I am 
 quite convinced that it would be a great advantage 
 to adopt at once the pronunciation established 
 here. 
 
 On my return I found a note from the palace, 
 requesting, in the name of the King, my presence 
 at the ball. At a quarter past eight o'clock I 
 went up to the palace, and found my way to Dr. 
 Roeser's room. The Doctor was just putting on 
 his coat, a splendid uniform, decorated with half 
 a score of orders, a cocked hat, and a sword. 
 I could not help laughing at his fierce military 
 look. We entered the ball-room together, and it 
 is as splendid an apartment as can be found in 
 Europe, brilliantly lighted up with hundreds of 
 wax-candles, in five enormous chandeliers, show-, 
 ing off the tasteful decorations of the rooms 
 which are painted in the Munich style to the 
 best advantage. 
 
 The company was assembling. The masters of 
 ceremonies, with their richly embroidered Greek 
 costumes, shining with silk and gold ; the Greek 
 ladies, with their splendid head-dresses ; the for-
 
 BALL AT THE PALACE. 345 
 
 eign ministers, with their diplomatic costumes ; 
 here and there an old Turk, nearly all with 
 swords by their sides, made up a brilliant, semi- 
 Oriental picture, not to be seen at any other court 
 in Europe. 
 
 At nine o'clock the King and Queen entered, 
 he in the uniform of the Greek cavalry, and she 
 in the handsomest and most beautifully fitted dress 
 that I ever saw. O for the pen of some inspired 
 milliner to do justice to this exalted theme ! The 
 company opened to the right and left, and their 
 Majesties passed down the rooms, graciously bow- 
 ing a smiling welcome to their guests, and we 
 bowed a respectful response. They walked about, 
 conversing with the company; after some time 
 the English minister and the Queen, the King 
 with the wife of one of the other foreign ministers, 
 and other great lords and ladies, commenced a 
 stately promenade round the room, to the sound 
 of music, changing partners each time they passed 
 round ; and then the dancing commenced. 
 
 The Queen danced better than any lady of the 
 court, taking part in every dance but one, 
 waltzes, quadrilles, and Heaven knows what be- 
 sides. The King was conscientious in performing 
 this part of his duty, but seemed a little tired. 
 The Queen looked fresher and fresher with every 
 dance, and when they withdrew at half past three 
 o'clock, you would have supposed she was just 
 dressed for her first ball, so blooming, bright, and 
 
 15*
 
 346 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 animated did she appear. The company divided, 
 right and left, and they retired, bowing and smil- 
 ing, and bowed at and smiled upon, as when they 
 entered. It was a beautiful and brilliant scene. 
 
 There was no great supper, as with us at balls. 
 Refreshments were served at intervals, lem- 
 onade, orgeat, punch, tea, coffee, and cake ; but 
 nothing to excess, and of course none of that 
 crushing round a table which we have constantly 
 at great balls at home. 
 
 On Saturday evening I was at Dr. Hill's, and 
 while we were chatting on this and that, the Arch- 
 bishop of Patras,the Protosakellos, the Bishop of 
 Hydra, and Mr. Metrophanes, the eloquent pub- 
 lic preacher of Athens, were announced. The 
 Greek priests always appear in the ecclesiastical 
 costume, and their entrance into Dr. Hill's draw- 
 ing-room was a somewhat imposing spectacle. 
 These gentlemen entered into conversation in the 
 most agreeable manner. I had a very interesting 
 conversation with the Archbishop about Greek 
 pronunciation in Greece and in the West of Europe. 
 He maintains and I agree with him entirely 
 that the present pronunciation, though not in all 
 respects the same as that of the educated classes in 
 ancient times, yet makes a much nearer approach 
 to it than the European ; that it came down from 
 the earliest organization of the Church ; " and," 
 said he, " as the child at the mother's breast learns 
 his pronunciation from her lips, so the Greek peo-
 
 CONVERSATION WITH ARCHBISHOP OF PATRAS. 347 
 
 pie received the traditional pronunciation with the 
 word of God from the lips of the Church," at 
 once a good illustration and an argument. 
 
 The discussion tasked my Greek to the utmost ; 
 but I was glad to find that, though I had none of 
 the Archbishop's fluency, I could understand him 
 perfectly, and had words enough at my command 
 to keep up the conversation. 
 
 I think I shah 1 leave here early next week, but 
 shall write you at least once more from the city of 
 Athens. Give my love to each and all, and tell 
 everybody everything I should like to say, but 
 have not time, because the post closes soon.
 
 348 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XLVIL 
 
 OFF THE COAST OF ATTICA, 
 A LITTLE NORTH OF SuNiUM, January 19, 1854. 
 
 YOU will be surprised at the date of this let- 
 ter ; and perhaps you will be more surprised 
 by my explanation of it. Well, you must know 
 that, after the grand ball at the palace, the King 
 very graciously placed at my disposal, through Dr. 
 Roeser, the royal cutter, " The Lion," for an ex- 
 cursion to Sunium, ^Egina, Trcezen, and gener- 
 ally round the Attic seas. 
 
 I asked permission to take with me two young 
 Englishmen, who had recently arrived in Greece, 
 one a graduate of Oxford, and the other of the 
 London University; and the permission was in- 
 stantly granted. The incident has caused no lit- 
 tle commotion in Athens, and my friends here 
 are not a little pleased. General Church laughs, 
 and says the republican has turned royalist ; the 
 Russians are at their wits' end, and I have no 
 doubt the small diplomates will put the thing down 
 to some tremendous intrigue between America 
 and England. The next steamers will carry de- 
 spatches to Russia, Austria, France, and perhaps 
 to Turkey, with the profoundest speculations on
 
 VOYAGE IN THE ATTIC WATERS. 349 
 
 the consequences to be drawn from this porten- 
 tous combination. Seriously, it is a most cour- 
 teous thing on the part of King Otho, and I 
 thought the offer ought not to be declined. 
 
 It is the only opportunity I should have had to 
 see ^gina, and its famous temple of the Panhel- 
 lenian Jupiter ; and I could otherwise have seen 
 the temple of Minerva at Sunium only by a two 
 or three days' journey on horseback, with the 
 chance of getting thoroughly ducked. The Lion 
 is an English-built yacht, very safe and comfort- 
 able. I took Strattis the Lesbian, and Yanni Bui- 
 gar the cook ; bought a supply of provisions for 
 three days, and off we sailed this afternoon at half 
 past two o'clock. 
 
 We came down to the Peiraeus this morning, 
 and I had the pleasure of showing my young Eng- 
 lish friends the tomb of Themistocles, and other 
 interesting antiquities of the place. We came on 
 board, bag and baggage, and amidst the curious 
 and inquisitive looks of the nautical multitude on 
 shore, and of the sailors on board the numerous 
 ships in the harbor, out we dashed under a spank- 
 ing breeze from the north, Boreas, as they still 
 call it here, with our sails all set, and the 
 JSgean waves roaring and foaming about the 
 prow. 
 
 I have told you before, I was born to be an ad- 
 miral, not a professor ; and I have serious thoughts 
 of running away with this craft, and making for
 
 350 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the Black Sea, to help the distracted nations set- 
 tle the Oriental question. 
 
 It was beautiful, sailing out of the ancient har- 
 bor, whence so many fleets of classic renown have 
 swept into the JEgean. It was most exciting to 
 dash past the strait and island of Salamis, where 
 the great defeat fell on Xerxes and the Persian 
 array, and where the tomb of Themistocles still 
 looks over the sparkling waters. On all sides we 
 beheld the memorials of Athenian greatness, 
 the huge masses of ancient walls and towers 
 which lined and guarded the coast of the three 
 harbors of Peirasus, Munychia, and Phalerum, in 
 which the ancient navies rode secure. In front 
 of us lay ^Egina, with the Peloponnesian moun- 
 tains in the background, the clouds resting on 
 their summits. As we turned southward, the 
 city of Athens and the long range of Hymettus 
 bounded the picture, gradually fading from sight 
 as the shades of evening came down on sea and 
 land ; and now it is a dark and wild scene, for the 
 moon does not rise until ten o'clock. We hope to 
 get a moonlight view of the Sunium Temple. 
 
 Our armament consists of no cannon, a captain, 
 and four men. If pirates should attack us, we 
 have pen-knives and steel-pens. Yanni Bulgar 
 has spits and teapots, and we should make a des- 
 perate fight. 
 
 Yesterday, I attended a curious ceremony of the 
 Greek Church at the Peiraeus, the celebration
 
 CONSECRATION OF THE WATERS. 351 
 
 of St. John the Baptist, a very ancient observ- 
 ance. I rode down from Athens at seven o'clock. 
 The morning was fresh and beautiful, like the 
 first of October with us. At half past eight we 
 went to the church, where a long service was per- 
 formed, and a little cross, apparently of gold, set 
 with precious stones, was baptized by the Arch- 
 bishop of Achaia, dressed in his gorgeous pontifi- 
 cal robes, and a mitre blazing with jewelry and 
 miniatures of the saints. The water was in a ves- 
 sel about as large as a barrel, and stood within an 
 enclosure in the centre of the church, guarded by 
 soldiers. After the baptism was over, there was 
 a great scramble of the multitude to fill their cups 
 with this blessed water, which they keep for the 
 most sacred occasions. From the church a pro- 
 cession was formed and marched with banners 
 flying through the town, stopping at the fountains 
 to bless them, and then coming down to the wharf 
 of the Peiraic harbor. We took a boat and joined 
 the fleet of boats, anxiously waiting for the arrival 
 of the procession. The ships in the harbor were 
 gayly decorated with flying streamers of many 
 colors, and the people everywhere had dressed 
 themselves out in holiday attire. At length the 
 Bishop's mitre was seen, like Minerva's helmet, 
 shining from afar. As he approached the sea, 
 divers, one after another, jumped or plunged in. 
 After a few moments, the Bishop threw the cross 
 into the water, and such a splashing and plunging
 
 352 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 as there was to find it ! The successful diver has 
 the right to carry it round the town, and ask for 
 money. Sometimes he gets from fifty to a hun- 
 dred drachmas from the liberality of the pious 
 zealots for Oriental orthodoxv. The effect of 
 
 I 
 
 throwing the cross into the water is to sanctify 
 the sea, and make it safe for navigators.
 
 THE TEMPLE OF MINERVA AT SUNIUM. 353 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 SUNIUM, January 20. 
 
 WE reached this famous promontory of Ath- 
 ens about ten o'clock last evening, but 
 thought it best to postpone our visit to the temple 
 until to-day, as the moon did not rise until very 
 late. We were up long before sunrise, found the 
 morning bright and clear, and, putting ashore in 
 the cutter's boat, first paid our respects to Nep- 
 tune by plunging into the sea. The moon was 
 still shining in the west over the surface of the 
 water, and pouring her pale light on the columns 
 of Minerva. Refreshed by our bath, think of a 
 sea-bath before sunrise on the 20th of January ! 
 we ascended the lofty promontory on which the 
 temple stands. 
 
 Just as we approached the summit, up came 
 the glorious sun from the midst of the Cyclades, 
 and, flashing over the Mediterranean, struck the 
 shining columns which sparkled with joy at his 
 coming. 
 
 The columns are perfectly white, scarcely a 
 weather-stain is noticeable ; but their surfaces are 
 much crumbled, and the marble seems to be scal- 
 ing off. On this high point, looking southward to
 
 354 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the middle of the Mediterranean, and east and 
 west to the seas that encircle Attica, the winds 
 are constantly blowing ; and this may perhaps 
 explain the wearing away of the surface, and the 
 consequent unchanging whiteness of the marble. 
 
 The foundation of the temple and twelve col- 
 umns remain, nine on the southern side, with 
 the architrave, and three in other parts, with the 
 square column in which one of the walls of the 
 temple terminates. 
 
 There are numerous other foundations of walls 
 and buildings, covering the entire surface of this 
 extremity of Attica ; and looking northward, to 
 the interior, the eye ranges over the ancient mines 
 whence the silver of the Athenian currency was 
 drawn. The mines were exhausted even in the 
 Roman times ; but extensive traces of the exca- 
 vations are seen all over the southern part of the 
 promontory. We had not time for any special 
 
 examination ; that I reserved until A and I 
 
 can visit the spot together. Here, as elsewhere, 
 I was obliged to make a rigid selection of objects 
 to visit ; and it was more to my purpose to spend 
 the little time I had among the beautiful ruins of 
 the temple. 
 
 We are now just hoisting sail, under a strong 
 wind and a bright sun, for jEgina and the Temple 
 of Panhellenian Jupiter ; thence we hope to reach 
 Poros to-night ; and to-morrow to re-enter the 
 Peirseus. The Lion is pitching and rolling
 
 THE TEMPLE OF PANHELLENIAN JUPITER. 355 
 
 among the waves that come sweeping in from, 
 the Mediterranean ; and so, for fear of growing 
 illegible, I stop, and go on deck for a last look at 
 the Temple of Sunian Minerva. 
 
 Evening. I rushed on deck just in time to get 
 a last glimpse of " Colonna's columns " shining in 
 the morning sun. The Lion was roaring through 
 the sea, and tossing the foam from his mane. 
 The wind was strong and fresh, and the waves 
 were running high. About two o'clock, after a 
 splendid sail, we cast anchor in a little solitary 
 harbor, just under the hill on which stands the 
 grand old ruin of the Temple of Panhellenian Ju- 
 piter. We went ashore at once, and ascended the 
 mountain. A walk of half an hour up the steep 
 slope, among pine-trees and over terraces walled 
 up with masonry, brought us under the shadow 
 of the venerable columns, many of which, though 
 worn away by the weather, still stand. The foun- 
 dation is loaded with immense masses of stone 
 from the architraves, roof, and columns that have 
 fallen in. Between the crevices a thick growth 
 of bushes has sprung up, encircling and overshad- 
 owing the old gray rocks with their green arms. 
 
 The view is most magnificent. We look over 
 the Saronic Gulf, and see the whole extent of the 
 plain of Athens, and its shining wall of mountains. 
 The Acropolis rises in its centre like a great altar, 
 and its temples are just visible as tracery against
 
 356 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 the eastern sky. Salamis is in sight, and beyond 
 rise the mountains Cithaeron and Helicon ; we 
 have a glimpse of Megaris, and the high lands 
 about Corinth just mark the horizon. Southward 
 we see the coast of Peleponnesus, and the broad 
 expanse of the Mediterranean. 
 
 On this glorious height, commanding this pano- 
 rama, and looking directly over the lovely and 
 fertile valley which lies nestled in the interior of 
 JEgina, and furnishes all its agricultural wealth, 
 stood the great temple in honor of Jupiter, the 
 god of the whole Grecian race, the Panhellenian 
 ruler of all who spoke the Grecian tongue. As 
 I walked among its columns and over its ruins, 
 looking abroad over the grandeur of the spectacle, 
 and listening to the melancholy voices of the wind 
 among the neighboring pines and the wasting 
 columns, I could not resist the sadness of the 
 lonely and melancholy spirit that seems to haunt 
 this strangely interesting spot. 
 
 We remained there a long time, and as the 
 shadows began to fall from the western heights 
 down into the lovely valley, we descended to the 
 sea-shore and regained our ship. Here we remain 
 until midnight, when, if the wind changes a few 
 points, we hoist our sails for Salamis. The vessel 
 sways lazily over the waves that roll in from the 
 Saronic Gulf. Our captain and the sailors are 
 taking their rest ; my companions are dozing, and 
 Strattis the Lesbian is arranging the beds.
 
 NIGHT ON THE SEA. 357 
 
 I am never weary of listening to the water 
 plashing against the sides of the yacht, and the 
 distant tumult of the waves chafing along the steep 
 and rocky solitude of the shore, while the solemn 
 spirit of the past broods darkly over the crumbling 
 temple, and breathes in the sighing pine-forests 
 beneath it.
 
 358 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 SALAMIS, January 21. 
 
 WE held a council of war yesterday after- 
 noon to decide whether we would go to 
 Poros, Troezen, and Calaureia. All these places 
 we have seen in the distance ; and the last in par- 
 ticular I was desirous of visiting, because here De- 
 mosthenes died. But the north- wind was blowing, 
 and there seemed no prospect of a change ; we 
 might be detained a week, or even longer ; and I am 
 now anxious to be on my way to Italy. So I de- 
 cided to make for Salamis, as we could easily reach 
 that island from JBgina ; and from Salamis over to 
 the Peirasus is only five or six miles. The captain 
 hoisted sail about nine o'clock in the evening, and 
 stood out into the middle of the Gulf between 
 Peloponnesus and Attica ; and, though the wind 
 blew very strong and the sea ran high, in the 
 course of the night we reached the little harbor of 
 Salamis. 
 
 This morning we saw the sun rise over distant 
 Athens, and, going ashore, we walked round the 
 point to the narrowest part of the strait, where the 
 Greek and Persian fleets met, and there, plunging 
 into the sea, had a delicious bath.
 
 SALAMIS. 359 
 
 The appearance of the island is desolate enough ; 
 and one cannot but wonder how the Athenians 
 found shelter for their wives and children here, 
 during the Persian invasion of Attica. It is very 
 interesting to remember that JEschylus fought in 
 the battle, that Sophocles took part in the chorus 
 which celebrated the victory, and that Euripides 
 was born here on the same day, a wonderful 
 crown of poetical associations for this solitary rock. 
 We swam out, at a point about half-way between 
 the bay of Eleusis and the harbor of Peiraus, so 
 that we had the entire scene of the battle just 
 around us. The water was cool, but delicious; 
 and we could not help recalling the involuntary 
 bath which so many Persians took in exactly the 
 same spot. On our left lay the Greek fleet, and 
 on our right the Persian. Had they been present 
 at the moment, our bath would have been seriously 
 interrupted. 
 
 This island, you remember, was the birthplace 
 of Telamonian Ajax, and as we walked on the 
 higher parts of the island, and noticed the founda- 
 tions of ancient walls and towers, we pleased our- 
 selves with the fancy that here was the palace of 
 ancient Telamon, and that from the harbor where 
 the yacht was anchored sailed the Salaminian 
 fleet to the war of Troy. There are two small 
 villages on opposite sides of the island, and a few 
 fields planted with olives. It seems that during a 
 part of the time the Greeks in the war with the
 
 360 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 Turks took refuge here, just as in the Persian in- 
 vasion ; similar circumstances leading to similar 
 results. On inquiring how they sheltered them- 
 selves, I was told they had small huts all over the 
 slopes of the hills, and many lived in caverns. 
 We are now just getting under way for Athens ; 
 so I must go on deck to look at these historical 
 scenes again.
 
 FROM SALAMIS TO THE PEIILEUS. 361 
 
 ATHENS, January 21. 
 
 THE sail from Salamis over to the Peirseus 
 was indescribably charming. I had never 
 before had exactly that point of view of the various 
 objects of interest, the scenes of the great naval 
 battle, with the plain and city of Athens in front. 
 The wind was fresh, and the waves sparkled under 
 the Attic sun. The mouth of the Peiraic harbor 
 is so narrow that it is sometimes extremely difficult 
 for a sailing-vessel to enter. Our gallant yacht was 
 obliged to tack fourteen times. We reached the 
 anchorage about one o'clock, and, taking a car- 
 riage, drove back to Athens, ever-welcome 
 Athens, past the remains of the long walls, 
 past the olive-groves, past the hill of the 
 Nymphs, past the Temple of Theseus, up 
 into the street of Hermes, then to the street 
 of ^Eolus, and to the HQtel d'Angleterre. 
 
 My friends in Athens were not a little surprised 
 to see. me. They were confident I should be de- 
 tained at Sunium by the wind, which was strong 
 from the north. But I told them I had long ago 
 written to you that I had mistaken my vocation, 
 that I was intended by nature for an admiral, and 
 
 16
 
 362 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 that my return was to be attributed wholly to that 
 distinguished seamanship which had led to my ap- 
 pointment in the Greek navy. 
 
 I found, as I expected, that this little expedition 
 has been a good deal discussed by the quidnuncs 
 in Athens. That the royal cutter should have 
 been placed at the disposal of a private traveller, 
 and that traveller an American, is something quite 
 unintelligible. A Russian diplomate and his wife, 
 who live at this hotel, questioned me very closely ; 
 and when I told them the simple truth, they could 
 scarcely believe it, indeed, they did not believe 
 it. It is very plain they think something is on 
 foot, a mystery that they cannot fathom ; and I 
 really believe they are of opinion that it is. another 
 proof of the purpose of America to intermeddle in 
 European politics. The simple explanation is, that 
 I was presented to the King, who already knew 
 from Dr. Roeser the purpose of my visit ; that, 
 after the presentation and the ball, the offer of the 
 cutter was made to me through Dr. Roeser, to 
 promote and facilitate that purpose; and that I 
 accepted it very frankly, -asking at the same time 
 permission to take two friends with me, which 
 permission was most readily granted. 
 
 I have been h!ghly delighted with the voyage. 
 It has given me the opportunity of seeing places 
 that I should not otherwise have seen, and of wit- 
 nessing a specimen of pure Greek navigation, un- 
 der very agreeable circumstances. I am glad to
 
 THE FUTURE OF GREECE. 363 
 
 have seen some of the most interesting parts of the 
 Greek waters in a sailing vessel. I had seen them 
 sufficiently in a steamer, and shall for five or six 
 days more be tossing about in the game way again. 
 
 My friends here approve entirely of my scheme 
 of returning here with Agassiz in two or three 
 years. Agassiz will find, in the birds, fishes, fos- 
 sils, and mountains of Greece, quite enough to oc- 
 cupy him for a year; it will take me a year to 
 complete my study of the spoken language, and 
 to make various collections I have in mind of the 
 popular poetry among the mountains ; and we 
 will publish our researches in a joint work on 
 Greece, physical, picturesque, and poetical. 
 My three months' visit is only a preparation for 
 a visit. The fair image of Greece, to be sure, is 
 stamped on my mind too deeply ever to be ef- 
 faced ; but there is not an inch of its hallowed 
 ground which does not deserve a careful study. 
 
 The future of Greece is a problem nearly as in- 
 teresting as her past has been illustrious and un- 
 fortunate. Events now beginning to cast their 
 portentous shadows on the Eastern world are 
 agitating the best minds here. The war, though 
 not openly declared, is considered as having actu- 
 ally begun. Several battles have been fought, 
 blood has been profusely shed, the fleets of France 
 and England have entered the Black Sea, and 
 powerful armies are concentrating at neighboring 
 points, to be ready when the struggle actually
 
 364 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 commences. What will be the result of this 
 threatening state of things on the condition of 
 Europe, God only knows ; but the Greeks confi- 
 dently anticipate the liberation of their country- 
 men in the Turkish provinces from the Otto- 
 man dominion. There is an intense excitement 
 throughout the nation, and visions of an empire 
 with Constantinople for its capital float before the 
 imaginations of old and young. I shall not be on 
 the spot to witness the development of the dra- 
 ma, but I shall watch it with great interest from a 
 distance.
 
 INTERIOR OF ATTICA. 365 
 
 LI. 
 
 ATHENS, January 25, 1854. 
 
 YESTERDAY I made a most delightful ex- 
 cursion in company with the Rev. Mr. 
 
 A and my two young English friends. We 
 
 took horses in the morning, and, passing out of the 
 city by the Arch of Hadrian and the Temple of 
 Olympian Jupiter, took the road along the sea to 
 the southern point of Mount Hyrnettus, where it 
 comes down to the shore. It was a fine, fresh 
 morning, and the breezes of Attica, the sparkling 
 waters of the sea, the sight of ^Egina, where we 
 had so lately been, lying off in the distance, with 
 the hazy mountains of the Peloponnesus in the 
 background, and the beautifully moulded slopes of 
 Hymettus on our left, made us feel that we were 
 indeed treading enchanted ground. 
 
 At short intervals we rode over the foundations, 
 crumbling masses of hewn stone, all that re- 
 mains of the towns with which this part of ancient 
 Attica was once studded. After a ride of about 
 ten miles, we struck into the wild gorges of the 
 mountains, and, taking one of the roughest bridle- 
 paths I have anywhere travelled over, commenced 
 our ascent.
 
 366 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 We hired a shepherd to conduct us to the cav- 
 ern ; and it was well that we did, for on the way 
 thither he showed us another cavern, not men- 
 tioned in any of the books, but very extraordinary 
 in its form and character. The mouth is an almost 
 circular opening at the southern end of the moun- 
 tain, about twenty or thirty feet in diameter. It 
 descends perpendicularly to a great depth, but 
 there is no way of entering it. There is water, 
 apparently running under the mountain, at one 
 side; but the greater part of the bottom is covered 
 with a growth of trees, on the tops of which we 
 look down. I think it possible that this cavern 
 may be a shaft of one of the silver-mines that were 
 worked by the Athenians in this part of Attica ; 
 only it is farther north than any mentioned in the 
 ancient authors. I made no attempt to go down ; 
 but threw stones in, and from the sound it ap- 
 peared to me that the depth was very great. 
 
 We kept on our. rough and stony way until we 
 reached the grotto we were in search of. It is 
 most picturesquely placed, commanding a view of 
 the whole district of Sunium, and, off in the dis- 
 tance, of the Mediterranean. We entered the cave 
 by a wide flight of steps, and found two subter- 
 ranean chambers, hung and curtained with stalac- 
 tites. On one of the walls a tablet is smoothed, 
 and an inscription cut in very ancient letters, that 
 Archedemos, the Nympholept, i. e. possessed or 
 crazed by the nymphs, had wrought this cavern.
 
 SCENES IN PLATO'S LIFE. 367 
 
 Other inscriptions repeat the name several times, 
 and still others show that tablets and offerings 
 were placed here in honor of Pan, Apollo, and 
 the Nymphs. There is an entire figure in relief, 
 sculptured on one of the walls, representing the 
 workman with his hammer and chisel. He was 
 not, at the best, a beauty, and I could not much 
 wonder that he was " crazed by hopeless love." 
 There is also the lower part of a sitting figure ; 
 but as little more than the legs remain, it is not 
 very easy to form a complete idea of the gentle- 
 man's personnel. I fancy it is the same Arche- 
 demos. 
 
 A pleasant circumstance connected with this 
 grotto is the probability that Plato was brought 
 hither in his childhood by his parents, who desired 
 to offer sacrifices to Pan, Apollo, and the Nymphs ; 
 so that I have now seen all the known localities 
 connected with his name and biography. I have 
 been three times to the Academy where he taught ; 
 have visited every point of the Ilissus to which he 
 alludes ; have breakfasted at his farm near Ce? 
 phissia ; and have now spent an agreeable hour in 
 the grotto, where his youthful mind was impressed 
 by the religion of the place, and whence his poet- 
 ical eye must have gazed with admiration upon 
 the wonderful and varied beauty of surrounding 
 nature. I think I understand Plato all the better 
 for these opportunities of studying the originals 
 from which he drew his pictures of Attic scenery.
 
 368 FAMILIAR "LETTERS. 
 
 Not to do injustice to the outer man, we decided 
 to lunch here ; and Strattis, having produced his 
 stores of rolls, cold tongue, chicken, English ale, 
 and oranges, we discussed them with an appetite 
 not diminished by our Platonic reminiscences. 
 We returned to Athens by another route, through 
 the Mesogasa, an inland valley of Attica, which I 
 had often looked down upon from the surrounding 
 heights, but had never crossed. It is a most inter- 
 esting part of Attica, extending from the southern 
 mountains, between Hymettus and the hilly east- 
 ern shore, and Pentelicus, and joining the plain 
 of Athens near the Lycabettus. 
 
 On our ride we passed over many ruins of an- 
 cient towns, and the sites of others of which not 
 a vestige remains. Here were the birthplaces of 
 Socrates and Demosthenes, but not a stone to mark 
 the spot of either. In the midst of solitude, near 
 the site of an ancient temple, now occupied by a 
 deserted church, with Byzantine pictures, a marble 
 lion, belonging to the best ages of Athenian sculp- 
 ture, lifts his head, and looks, with an expression 
 of almost human sorrow, around upon the ruins of 
 the ancient walls. We stopped long to examine 
 this interesting monument. The head and body 
 of the lion are entire ; the forelegs are gone ; but 
 he is propped up by a pile of stone, so as to be in 
 the posture evidently intended by the artist. As 
 I shall never have an opportunity of riding a living 
 lion, I took the occasion of jumping on the back
 
 SUNSET NEAR ATHENS. 369 
 
 of the marble one. Bacchus and other mytho- 
 logical personages were fond of riding and driving 
 tigers and lions ; and if they found their backs as 
 comfortable a seat as I did the Mesogaean lion's, I 
 approve their choice. I should like to have rid- 
 den him into Athens ; but there he remained 
 fast rooted in the earth, like the first lion of crea- 
 tion, as described in the Paradise Lost. 
 
 On we galloped with Hymettus west of us, his 
 head covered with a frowning mass of clouds. We 
 had already been attacked, near the grotto, by short 
 but sharp showers of hail, and now the rain was 
 approaching. So we galloped still harder, 
 leaving the Mesogaean lion again to his solitary 
 contemplations among the mouldering walls. Just 
 as we rounded the northern end of Hymettus, the 
 Attic plain, the Acropolis, with the Parthenon 
 drawn against the western sky, and the declining 
 sun, beyond the line of clouds, pouring his light 
 between the columns, and blending with the soft 
 but sombre hues that antiquity has thrown around 
 them, burst upon us. The cloud over our heads 
 let fall an almost summer shower ; and behind us, 
 the Mesogaea was spanned by the unbroken arch 
 of the rainbow, that seemed to follow us, as if Iris 
 herself had just descended from Olympus with a 
 message from Jupiter to his favorite daughter 
 Athene, the protecting goddess of the city. It 
 was a scene lovely past my feeble powers of de- 
 scription ; but alas for my Athenian hat ! that 
 16* x
 
 370 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 " brilliant affair " I had so recently bought in the 
 street of JEolus, the hat I held in my hand in 
 the presence of royalty, and afterwards at the ball, 
 the hat with which I fondly hoped to dazzle 
 you all on my return. Alas ! its lustre is dimmed ; 
 it looks as sad as the Mesogaean lion ; the storms 
 of centuries seem to have spent their fury upon it ; 
 it is fast reaching the last stage of a hat's decline, 
 when the inevitable phrase of -" shocking bad" 
 dooms it to the head of some ragged beggar or 
 houseless vagabond whose home is the gutter. 
 
 We entered the city just as the sun was going 
 down. The shower had already passed, and the 
 glorious sunset of Athens lighted up the Acropo- 
 lis, the sea beyond, and the hills around. 
 
 In the evening I went to the palace to take tea 
 with Dr. Roeser. He asked me a thousand ques- 
 tions about America, Agassiz, &c., &c. ; told me 
 how Agassiz looked when a student under Db'l- 
 linger at Munich ; and listened with the greatest 
 interest when I related his brilliant success in 
 scientific discovery, and described his unbounded 
 popularity in America as a lecturer. Nothing as- 
 tonishes Europeans so much as the large audi- 
 ences drawn together in our country by scientific 
 lectures. When I tell them that Agassiz has lec- 
 tured night after night to two thousand people, it 
 sounds fabulous to them ; and I am sometimes 
 tempted to cut the number down a couple of 
 hundred, as the Irishman wrote to his friends that
 
 NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF ATHENS. 371 
 
 he had meat twice a week, instead of three times 
 a day, for fear they would not believe him. The 
 Natural History Society of Athens has made him 
 an honorary member ; and (I suppose, on the 
 strength of my relationship with him) it has con- 
 ferred the same honor upon me. The diplomas, 
 duly signed and sealed, have been sent to my room 
 to-day.
 
 372 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 LIL 
 
 ATHENS, January 27. 
 
 YESTERDAY I made another excursion, and 
 probably my last in Greece for the pres- 
 ent. I awoke at half past five, and, looking out of 
 my window, saw the slender arch of the waning 
 moon hanging over the dark ridge of Hymettus. 
 In a few moments the whole east was flushed with 
 a glorious rose-color, which almost quenched the 
 pale moon ; then the rose changed into gold, 
 which for nearly half an hour transfigured the 
 mountain heights ; and finally up came the sun, 
 and filled the earth and hills and valleys with his 
 presence. The rosy fingers of Aurora and the 
 golden dawn had fled ; the silver moon had van- 
 ished, and the unclouded splendor of an Attic day 
 spread over the green fields and the sparkling 
 sea, awakening the busy present and illuminating 
 the mouldering memorials of the mighty past. 
 
 We set out to go to Decaleia, but, an accident 
 happening to one of our horses, we were obliged 
 to return. Then we took a carriage and drove 
 down to Peirseus. From the beach of Peirasus 
 we walked along the strait, up to the narrowest 
 part and nearly to the Bay of Eleusis, so that we
 
 SCENE OF THE BATTLE OF SALAMIS. 373 
 
 saw from the land side all the points in the scene 
 of the great battle, and read on the spot the ac- 
 count of Herodotus, and the poetical description 
 in JEschylus, who fought here. It is impossible 
 to form a precise and positive idea of the arrange- 
 ment of the forces, because a variety of combina- 
 tions was possible, and the chances of battle would 
 have changed any order previously agreed upon. 
 But in these repeated visits to different points of 
 the scene, I have been enabled to stamp on my 
 memory a most distinct picture of the whole, and 
 to clear up, to my own mind at least, several 
 topographical particulars before obscure. We se- 
 lected a beautiful spot on the shore, where the 
 water had polished the marble and limestone cliffs, 
 and hewn out gracefully curving recesses, and the 
 floor of the sea was laid with a natural mosaic of 
 rounded and many-colored pebbles, and the waves 
 rolled over it, with a gentle sweep and swell, and 
 plashed and tinkled under the resounding cav- 
 erns. Here we plunged into the crystal water, 
 through whose transparent depths the marble peb- 
 bles shone, and the sea-plants on the edge of the 
 shores undulated with the undulating waters. We 
 swam out into the strait and took a water view of 
 the battle, as we had a few days before on the 
 Salaminian side. It was the most delicious bath I 
 ever took. We thought of the Persians, and how 
 little they liked the bath they were compelled to 
 take. The vivid lines of ^schylus brought the
 
 374 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 scene almost up from the deep, and placed the 
 fleets before our very eyes. After all this exer- 
 cise by land and sea we were well prepared for a 
 lunch. The cold tongue and fowl, the French 
 bread and London ale, had full and speedy justice 
 done them on the very spot where we thought 
 Xerxes must have sat to overlook the fight. 
 Having finished our survey and our lunch with 
 equal satisfaction, we returned to our carriage, 
 and drove to Peirseus. 
 
 Hearing that the garden of Mr. Contostavlos 
 contained some antiquities, not long since discov- 
 ered, we stopped there, and found some very in- 
 teresting objects. This garden seems to occupy 
 the site of the ancient burying-place of Peirseus ; 
 he told me he had found about two hundred sar- 
 cophagi.
 
 LAST VISIT TO THE PARTHENON. 875 
 
 LIII. 
 
 ATHENS, January 29. 
 
 TWO days ago, I took a long walk round the 
 city. I went by the Temple of Theseus, 
 the Areopagus, the Agora, up the Acropolis, and 
 spent about an hour in and around the Parthenon. 
 The sky was somewhat overcast, and the distant 
 islands and mountains, and the Saronic Gulf, were 
 partially shrouded, and presented a wild, though 
 beautiful appearance. A raven, perching on one 
 corner of the western pediment, added to the 
 sombre impression of the scene by his croaking. 
 It was one of my last visits, if not the last ; and I 
 \Valked slowly away. I returned by the Dionysiac 
 Theatre and the Temple of Olympian Jupiter, 
 and reached my room as it began to darken. 
 There, to my surprise, I found your letter lying 
 on my table. I had not expected to receive an- 
 other here, because I wrote some time ago to Eng- 
 land to have my letters forwarded to Rome ; but I 
 suppose there was some delay, and by that happy 
 accident your letter was sent as usual to Athens. 
 There was but a moment to glance over it, as it 
 was time to dress for dinner at Dr. Hill's, where 
 I was engaged, and for a party at Mr. Finlay's.
 
 376 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 We had a nice quiet little dinner ; soup, fish, &c., 
 and, among other things, mince-pie and squash-pie. 
 I never thought to look upon mince and squash 
 pies with a sentimental feeling ; but since I have 
 been in Athens, they have passed through a sort 
 of transfiguration to my mind's eye. 
 
 After dinner we went to the party. It was 
 larger than is usual in Athens, the guests being 
 English, Americans, and Greeks. We had Italian 
 
 music from Mrs. F and Miss L , and 
 
 Greek songs from Miss S , a young and very 
 
 pretty Greek lady, who is engaged to be married 
 to a young man in England, a countryman of her 
 own, whom she has never seen. This is in accord- 
 ance with the custom of the Greeks. Marriages 
 are arranged by the families ; and as Greek fam- 
 ilies are established in distant cities, and in all the 
 countries of Europe, it often happens that the 
 persons most interested never see each other until 
 they meet to be married. Some years ago, in 
 their enthusiasm for progress and emancipation, 
 they tried the experiment of letting young people 
 decide for themselves ; but the result was so un- 
 fortunate that they went back to the old system, 
 and now nobody dreams of anything different. 
 
 These facts go to confirm Judge F 's theory. 
 
 The party was a very agreeable one, as parties 
 generally are here, and we stayed rather late. 
 
 Yesterday we had some thought of making an 
 expedition ; but the sky was threatening in the
 
 HEAVY WINTER RAIN-STORM. 377 
 
 morning, and we did not think it safe. Before 
 noon, the rain began to pour, and in the afternoon, 
 when I went to hear Professor Kontogoni lecture 
 on the Old Testament, a regular Old Testament 
 deluge came down, and torrents flowed through 
 all the streets.
 
 378 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 LIV. 
 \ 
 
 ATHENS, January 30. 
 
 THIS is my last day in Greece. I have taken 
 my ticket for Molfetta, and shall pass sev- 
 eral days among the islands of the Ionian Republic. 
 
 Yesterday I dined at Mr. W 's for the last 
 
 time, the company, General Sir Richard Church, 
 my two young English friends, Mr. L , Secre- 
 tary of Legation, and myself. It was a delightful 
 dinner in every respect, saddened, to me, only 
 by the thought that I should so soon take leave, 
 for a long time, perhaps forever, of friends who 
 have become so dear to me. Mr. W is cer- 
 tainly one of the ablest and most accomplished 
 gentlemen I have met in Europe. I am indebted 
 to him and to his family for kindnesses and hospi- 
 talities I can never repay. This morning I have 
 been taking leave of many friends : I do it with 
 real sorrow. But I have established relations with 
 Athens, which I shall not allow to die out ; and 
 the communications are so frequent and regular 
 now, that an acquaintance may be easily continued. 
 Mr. Black (the husband of the maid of Athens) 
 has just called. I tell him his wife is well known 
 in America, and he must carry her thither. Every- 
 thing promises weU for my voyage.
 
 SCENERY ABOUT PATRAS. 379 
 
 LV. 
 
 PATRAS, February 1, 1854. 
 
 I AM at the present moment sitting on the deck 
 of the steamer Oriente. The mountains around 
 Patras, and on the opposite shore of the Gulf, are 
 covered with snow ; the sides that slope down to 
 the city are green with wheat and grass. An old 
 castle, strongly and picturesquely placed, lies just 
 under the Snowy Bodia, commanding the town 
 and the Gulf. Westward rises the rocky Cepha- 
 lonia, crowned by the heights of Blackmountain, 
 now capped with snow. A little to the north of 
 it, low on the horizon, we see rocky Ithaca, the 
 kingdom of Ulysses, and a little to the south, the 
 island of Zante, the ancient Zacynthus, which fur- 
 nished a part of the fleet of Ulysses for the Trojan 
 war. We arrived here early this morning, having 
 left Athens yesterday. Monday, in Athens, was 
 one of the most exquisite days I have seen in 
 Greece, saddened, to me, by the necessity of say- 
 ing farewell to so many friends, who received and 
 have treated me more like one of themselves than 
 a stranger. Madame de Stael truly described 
 travelling as un triste plaisir ; the haunting 
 thoughts of home, and the constant separations
 
 380 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 from those who have honored us with their regard, 
 in the new places we have visited, mingle' many a 
 drop of bitterness in the sweet cup of increasing 
 knowledge which we drink as we travel from place 
 to place. Athens will always be a delicious mem- 
 ory to me, so "hospitable in her sweet recess," 
 so full of glorious vestiges of her most illustri- 
 ous past. 
 
 When we drove through the city yesterday 
 morning it was still dark, only the light of the 
 stars twinkled and quivered in the silent sky. 
 The Temple of Theseus slept, a formless mass ; the 
 Acropolis rose solid and black ; the Erechtheium 
 and the Parthenon stood shadowy and ghostlike, 
 and seeming to touch the sky. We passed out 
 upon the Peiraic road. I tried to catch a glimpse 
 of the olive groves of Plato ; but their dark foli- 
 age seemed only a sombre covering for the slum- 
 bering earth. The prison of Socrates was blotted 
 out by the kindly touch of night ; and the Bema 
 of Demosthenes peered dimly through the dark- 
 ness, that was like the darkness of ages. We 
 went down the road once traversed by armies and 
 triumphal processions ; we reached the massive 
 foundations of the long walls ; we reached the 
 harbor, and by the light of lamps were rowed out 
 to the Austrian steamer, which was startling the 
 silence of night and antiquity by its hissing. 
 
 At six we started. I watched, from the deck, 
 the lines of the Attic coast. We passed outside
 
 THE GULF OF CORINTH. 381 
 
 of Salamis, and the light broke splendidly over its 
 historic rock, and then illuminated the distant 
 mountains of Peloponnesus. Day advances, and 
 we sweep along the Bay of Salamis, and the sacred 
 shore of Eleusis. Next, Megara, with its back- 
 ground of mountains, salutes the sight. Soon, 
 peering above them all, the white summit of Heli- 
 con is lifted to the sky. We come in sight of the 
 Isthmus of Corinth, and I watch with interest the 
 opposite shores, whose picturesque beauties had 
 filled me with admiration, in my journey of No- 
 vember and December. We arrived at the Isth- 
 mus at half past ten. Here we took carriages, 
 and drove across to the other side. The mountain- 
 ous Acropolis so splendidly commanding two 
 seas towered on our left, and the ranges of 
 Helicon and Citha3ron far off on the right. 
 
 At Loutraki another steamer from Trieste had 
 arrived, and was waiting for us. Here there was 
 a magnificent view of the Corinthian Gulf, and its 
 
 O ' 
 
 variegated shores. Here again I recognized the 
 features of glorious Greece which I had seen be- 
 fore. I was glad to see them from another point 
 of view, which invested them with new beauty. 
 
 The clouds were sweeping wildly over the face, 
 of heaven, and the sea roared and chafed against 
 the shore. It was not easy to get on board ; but 
 at length the feat was accomplished, and at eight 
 o'clock in the evening the steamer moved from 
 Loutraki. The wind went down in the night, and
 
 382 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 we had a tranquil and rapid passage the whole 
 length of the Corinthian Gulf. When I awoke 
 this morning we were just coming to anchor in 
 the harbor of Patras. I went on shore to deliver 
 a letter and a parcel with which I had been in- 
 trusted by Dr. Hill. Having attended to this, I 
 climbed to the castle, and enjoyed the magnificent 
 beauty of the panorama, under the light of a most 
 beautiful day. I rambled over the city ; entered 
 a church ; dropped a letter for you my last from 
 Athens in the post-office ; returned to the 
 steamer, and here I am, on the 1st of February, 
 writing on deck, while you, in your Northern 
 climate, are shivering over a register, and suffo- 
 cating with the gases of coal. I look up into the 
 blue sky, and a few silvery clouds hang over the 
 mountains, or paint the face of the sea with green 
 and purple. The waters are laving with their 
 summer-sounding plash the sides of the ship as she 
 
 lies quietly at anchor. Miss M is making a 
 
 sketch of the scene, which I am trying to sketch 
 with pen and ink for you at home. We start in 
 an hour or two for Zante and the other islands 
 that border the western shore of Greece.
 
 SUNSET AMONG THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 383 
 
 LVL 
 
 COBFU (the ancient Corcyra), February 2, 1854. 
 
 THE weather has continued as beautiful as 
 heart could desire. We left Patras about 
 three o'clock, and steered for Missolonghi, so 
 famous for the exploits of Marco Botzaris and the 
 death of Byron. We had on board a Greek gen- 
 eral and his suite, together with several civilians, 
 bound for that place. The steamer was not long 
 in reaching the entrance of the Gulf of Patras. 
 She stopped five or six miles from the town of 
 Missolonghi, on account of the shallow water, and 
 boats with lateen sails came off to take the passen- 
 gers. You cannot imagine anything more splendid 
 than the panorama in the centre of which we 
 paused for half an hour. The sun was just going 
 down, and all the west was flushed with gold, 
 orange, rose, and purple. The mountains on the 
 northern side of the Gulf were clothed in the 
 deep blue I have so often admired on the slope 
 of Hymettus at sunset. The summits above Pa- 
 tras, covered with snow, were glowing with rosy 
 light like that of Chamouni. Zante, Ceph'alonia, 
 Ithaca, lay to the west under the sunset. The ship 
 rolled indolently on the gently throbbing water,
 
 384 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 like the deep, but tranquil beating of a heart in 
 the calm sleep of innocence ; and the broad-winged 
 boats, gliding towards the classic shores of Misso- 
 longhi, gave animation to the still beauty of the 
 picture. 
 
 We moved on again. In the course of the 
 night the boat touched at Zante ; but I had gone 
 to bed, and so lost the view. In the morning we 
 cast anchor in the harbor of Argostoli, the princi- 
 pal town of Cephalonia. Here Miss M met 
 
 her brother, and her voyage terminated. Taking 
 leave of her seemed like severing the last link of 
 the chain that bound me to Athens. In two hours 
 we were again under way. The weather con- 
 tinued fine. We swept out of the Gulf of Argos- 
 toli, and along the western coast of Cephalonia, 
 high, precipitous, and plunging steep into the sea. 
 
 Soon we reached the northern extremity, and 
 saw Ithaca on our right, rocky Ithaca, the 
 home of Penelope and the scene of so much of the 
 Odyssey. Next, Leucadia came in view, and the 
 white cliff down which Sappho leaped, if she did 
 leap. It is certainly a splendid place for such an 
 achievement. The beautiful islands in its neighbor- 
 hood lay sparkling in the light. We were for sev- 
 eral hours in sight of the Lover's Leap ; and then 
 the Albanian Hills came up along the eastern hori- 
 zon, with the Acherusian Lake, the mouth of the 
 Acheron, the promontory of Actium, and the pic- 
 turesque heights that overhang the ruined Parga.
 
 ARRIVAL AT CORFU. 385 
 
 We passed in between the island of Paxos and the 
 coast, and as another splendid sunset approached, 
 we came in sight of the range of the distant sum- 
 mits from which Corfu derives its present name. 
 Another moonlight evening, too beautiful for per- 
 fect repose. We cast anchor in the harbor about 
 ten o'clock, and as we were to remain until the 
 following afternoon, I went ashore, and took lodg- 
 ings at a comfortable little English hotel. 
 
 17
 
 386 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 LVIL 
 
 ON BOARD SHIP, AT CORFU, 
 February 3, 1854. 
 
 ON my voyage I have been reading all the 
 first part of the Odyssey, the scene of a 
 great part of which is laid among these islands. 
 To-day, at an early hour, I called on my friend, 
 
 Rev. Mr. C , with whom I became acquainted 
 
 in Athens, and we made an excursion together a 
 few miles out of the town. I had the Odyssey 
 with me. Corfu is the Scheria of Homer, and 
 the scene of the delightful story of Nausicaa, the 
 court and gardens of Alcinoiis, and the adventures 
 of Ulysses among the Phasacians. I wish you 
 would get the Odyssey, and read particularly the 
 fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth books. I have no 
 doubt that Homer had been here, and that the 
 scenery of this island was present to his memory 
 when he wrote those lovely passages. 
 
 It is the " last " of the Greek islands, as 
 Nausicaa describes the abode of the Phaeacians. Its 
 shores are steep and rocky. Ulysses leaves the 
 island of Calypso on a boat of his own making, and 
 sails seventeen days, keeping the " Wain " on his 
 left ; on the seventeenth the land of the Phaeacians
 
 HOMERIC SCENES IN CORFU. 387 
 
 appears in sight. But Neptune stirs up a tre- 
 mendous storm, which shatters his vessel. He 
 clings to a timber, and is driven hither and thither. 
 At last Leucothea gives him a sort of life-pre- 
 server, and advises him to swim. He does so. 
 Minerva sends Boreas to help him on, and in two 
 days he again reaches the land of the Phaeacians. 
 But the shore is so steep and rocky, and the waves 
 dash with such violence, that he cannot land. In 
 attempting it, his skin is torn, and his bones are 
 bruised. Onward he swims, until he comes to a 
 river, and an opening sheltered from, the winds. 
 Here he enters, and, almost exhausted, he crawls 
 up the bank, lies down among the brushwood, 
 covers himself with leaves, and goes soundly 
 asleep. Meantime Nausicaa drives down to the 
 river, accompanied by her maidens, to wash the 
 family linen. The washing over, they have a 
 game of ball ; and in the course of it they wake 
 up Ulysses. 
 
 Then follow the exquisite scene between the 
 hero and the princess ; the introduction to Al- 
 cinoiis and his court ; the sports with which he 
 is entertained; and the incomparable narrative 
 which he gives of his adventures on the return 
 from Troy. 
 
 Now the localities in Corfu correspond in a 
 general way somewhat remarkably to the descrip- 
 tions of Homer. A great part of the coast is so 
 rocky that the impossibility of landing on it is ap-
 
 388 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 parent at the first sight. But on the eastern side, 
 where the present town stands, there is an open- 
 ing, with a river flowing through the valley. The 
 springs of the river run from under a rock, and 
 form a basin of the clearest and most beautiful 
 water, at the distance of about an hour from the 
 foundations of an ancient city. 
 
 We drove out to it nearly by the road that 
 Nausicaa must have taken, passing by an ancient 
 cemetery where numerous sarcophagi have been 
 found, nearly perfect. When we reached the spot, 
 behold there was a woman there, washing ! but 
 she was not, like Nausicaa, exactly equal to the 
 immortal goddesses, if the goddesses are particu- 
 larly handsome. Nevertheless, it was a curious 
 coincidence of a present usage with an old tra- 
 dition. Near by was brushwood where Ulysses 
 might easily have concealed himself, and a broad 
 meadow where Nausicaa and her maids might 
 have had a capital game of ball. I read on the 
 spot the entire description ; and the possibility, 
 which strengthened into a probability, that the 
 scenery I saw around me had met the eyes of 
 Homer, and suggested to his plastic imagination 
 that charming romance of remote and shadowy 
 antiquity, gave extraordinary interest to the read- 
 ing. 
 
 We crossed the little bay into which the river 
 runs, in a ferry-boat, climbed the opposite height, 
 and descended the slopes on which the garden of
 
 THE GARDEN OF ALCINOUS. 389 
 
 Alcinoiis (the description of which I read here) is 
 supposed to have stood. A lovelier spot it would 
 not be easy even for the imagination of Homer 
 himself to paint. Fruits and vines, with ever- 
 greens, covered the ground. Especially the oran- 
 ges the most beautiful golden oranges, shining 
 among the rich green foliage delighted the eye 
 and tempted the appetite. I stopped to get some 
 of them ; two, with their leafy garniture, I have 
 put carefully up to bring home if possible. An 
 orange from the garden of Alcinoiis will be some- 
 thing worth having in Cambridge. 
 
 Having finished this most interesting ramble, 
 and enjoyed to the utmost its classical and poet- 
 ical associations, I went up to the fortress, which 
 commands an extensive prospect, not only of the 
 Ionian Sea and its islands, but of the picturesque 
 mountains on the opposite coast of Epirus. Then 
 I returned to the steamer, and at three o'clock we 
 again set out on our voyage.
 
 390 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 LVIIL 
 
 BRINDISI, February 4. 
 
 WE had another fine evening, and saw the 
 magnificent scenery of Epirus, as we 
 sailed northward through the channel that sepa- 
 rates the island from the mainland, to the greatest 
 advantage. I remained on deck until late. We 
 struck off to the left, directly into the Ionian Sea, 
 and in a short time the shores of Northern Greece, 
 and of Corfu, the last of the Greek islands, were 
 lost from sight. This morning the sun rose, golden 
 and cloudless, from the sea ; while on the other side, 
 the city of Brindisi, the ancient Brundusium, 
 and the low line of the Italian shore, were in sight. 
 At about eight o'clock we anchored, and here we 
 remain until evening ; but so jealous is the Nea- 
 politan government of foreigners, that we cannot 
 go ashore without a special permission. My only 
 
 companion is Colonel G of the English army, 
 
 who has seen a great deal of hard service. Brindisi 
 was once an important Roman station ; but it is 
 now a paltry village. There is nothing to be seen 
 which we cannot see as well from the deck of the 
 steamer as on land. We amuse ourselves with 
 laughing at the fantastic terrors of the Neapolitan 
 government.
 
 THE ADRIATIC. 391 
 
 LIX. 
 
 ADRIATIC SEA, ON BOARD THE ORIEXTE, 
 February 8. 
 
 WE passed Saturday in inglorious idleness at 
 Brindisi. At ten o'clock in the evening, 
 we got under way for Molfetta, where I expected 
 to land. The prevalence of northern winds for 
 some days, in the upper part of the Adriatic, had 
 caused a considerable commotion in the water, and 
 the ship rolled and plunged so violently during the 
 night, that I had hard work to keep in my berth. 
 This morning when I came up on deck early, we 
 were in sight of the low coast of Italy, and before 
 long the houses of Bari and the churches of Mol- 
 
 O 
 
 fetta loomed up from the sea. The waves were 
 still violently agitated, and it was doubtful whether 
 we should be able to enter the narrow and some- 
 what dangerous harbor. However, as we came 
 near, the sea became more tranquil, and we expe- 
 rienced no difficulty. 
 
 Here I intended to land and cross over by dili- 
 gence to Naples ; but I found, on inquiry, that 
 there was no diligence until Tuesday night, so 
 that I should have to waste three days in a place 
 that has not a single object of the slightest interest. 
 I therefore made up my mind to go on to An-
 
 392 FAMILIAR LETTERS. 
 
 cona, and from that place to take the diligence or 
 
 malle-poste to Rome. I shall rejoin P and the 
 
 rest of the party the sooner for this ; but I am 
 afraid I shall not see Naples again, and shall have 
 to give up Paestum. 
 
 We left Molfetta after about an hour's deten- 
 tion. I had to go on shore to get my ticket and 
 to have my passport inspected ; and so I had a 
 view of the city, which did not make me regret 
 my determination to proceed in the steamer ; and 
 now we are within a few hours of Ancona. The 
 weather continues fine, and the sea almost per- 
 fectly calm. It will be a week to-morrow morning 
 since I left Athens. The voyage, though slow, 
 has been agreeable. It has enabled me to see the 
 
 O 
 
 Ionian Islands, and to explore the most interesting 
 part of the principal one. I have in my mind a 
 very distinct picture of the scenery of the Odyssey, 
 in fact, the voyage to Constantinople, and the 
 voyage along the western side of Greece, have 
 illustrated both the Iliad and Odyssey more than 
 all the commentators of Germany. It is possible 
 I may be detained a day or two at Ancona. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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