Monday, November 6th 1854 ~ Milan

Hotel de Ville ~ I began today’s labors by visiting the post office and found there a letter for Alice. The first she has had since leaving home. Of course, she is perfectly enchanted and has been clapping her hands and jumping about like a child with a new toy. I bought a hat this morning and the girls looked for bonnets. After this important business ended, we walked to the other end of the city following the lead of our friend Mr. Murray to see the celebrated painting in frescoe of Leonardo da Vinci “the last supper.” It is on the wall of the refectory of the Jesuit college Santa Maria delle Grazie, a tumble down old building of brick now used as a military barrack. The refectory itself is quite a large room, somewhat longer than it is broad and paved with brick. The painting occupies all one end of it, and is dropping off every year. Traces of the great master are still to be seen in its fading design and general conception, more than in any particular part. It has been repainted and thus greatly damaged several times and it is said that the faces of the Saviour and of Judas are the only ones which are at all perfect (whose expression has not been entirely changed by the repainting). The apostles are placed around a long table, and the scene is drawn at the moment when the servant Peter demands of his Lord “is it I?” Our Lord’s expression is most saintlike and is clothed with an almost unearthly spirituality and dignity. The faces of the group show their interest in the answer expected, and their innocence. The features of Judas are thrown a little in the shade, the better to produce a fiendish expression in which evil passions and cowardice are blended. His face alone does not ask “is it I” but retired from the light. The monks have cut a door through the lower part of the painting, thus taking off all the lower part of our Lord’s person. It’s study gave me a new idea of the effects attainable in painting. As we passed out, soldiers were practicing gymnastic exercises in front of their quarters. They had a rope suspended from the roof to the sidewalk, and were coming down on it head downwards, sitting on each other’s shoulders etc. These operations were superintended by an officer in uniform and apparently on duty. We then walked over to the castle where fifteen hundred or two thousand men were on parade, marching over the great square in front.

Just at the end of this ground is the “Arco della Pace,” a very beautiful triumphal arch, modern, surmounted by bronze statues, chariot and horses and a group of figures about it. We dined at six, just after the table d’hote, and Lizzie was much incommoded by being stared at by an Englishman, who was lingering over his coffee.

Sunday, November 5th 1854 ~ Milan

Hotel de Ville ~ We find ourselves in a fine situation not far from the cathedral and the Imperial Palace. Today (there being no protestant church in the city) we attended the Catholic church “San Carlo Borromeo” and heard some very fine music there. It happened to be the day of this saint and a fine opera corps had been engaged for the occasion who supplied us with music that sounded anything but devotional. After services there we went over to the celebrated cathedral or “Duomo” and were delighted with its beauties and overcome with wonder at the {minute a dommient}. Its many long graceful gothic spires of stone recall in a measure Westminster Abbey. It is unfair for me to attempt its description. As a mere item however I may mention that the outside is adorned with two thousand statues, all in marble, the size of life or greater, in niches, at different heights. As a whole the cathedral is wonderful in its beauty and imposing in its proportions. I had often read descriptions and seen prints of it but never knew it as it is. Today all the shops are closed here, as much as in one of our own New England villages, but the city lacks that aspect of quiet; for the streets are crowded. Apple, cake, and candy venders abound. People peddling portraits of saints etc. etc. At four, Lizzie and myself took a walk out to the Porte Orientale to see the “belle-monde”. This fashionable thoroughfare was crowded with ladies and gentlemen handsomely drest, Austrian officers in their gay uniforms, handsome carriages , and single turnouts, each gentleman with his footman behind etc. A fine military band way playing in the square. We returned to a five o’clock table d’hote dinner as usual in the French style. In the evening we read the Episcopal service before a wood fire in our own room. When we entered the cars at Como for Milan, an official in uniform took away our passport and gave us a receipt for it on the back of which I found that unless I called at the police office in Milan within 24 hours I should subject myself to a fine and fourteen days imprisonment etc. The arrival at the gates of the city was the signal for the receipt being demanded and shown. We had not been in the hotel half an hour when a printed blanc was sent me to be filled up with my country, age, profession, wherefrom, destination, object in traveling etc. Tomorrow I must call at the police office in propria personae to verify the description and furthermore must wait upon the gentlemen every third day after, while I remain to report myself. A government loved at home and respected abroad!

Friday, November 3rd 1854 ~ Como

Hotel de l’Angello ~ We took tea last evening at Domo d’Ossola last evening and then took the diligence again in route. There being none but night conveyances. The conductors and all the other officials were Italians; it was a crowded, uncomfortable conveyance. Mary was perhaps the greatest sufferer having if possible the worst seat. I slept well all night awaking only when horses were changed, or when someone came to the window and roused us all up to pay 5 centima (one cent) each for toll. We arrived at Barina on Lake Maggiore at five o’clock this morning and were dropt at the Hotel de la Poste before day break where we made ourselves comfortable with a good wood fire and a meat breakfast. About seven o’clock we took a row boat with two rowers and started out over the Lake for Laveno on the opposite side by the way of the Borromean Islands. It seemed very strange to us to be driving last night over a great level expanse after the mountainous country we have left. At half past eight we landed at Isola Bella having past by the other little islands of the group, Isola Pescatori, and Isola Madre. Isola Bella is square; rises in formal terraces from the water and is devoted to what was once a magnificient palace and a splendid garden. The garden is still a curious monument of Italian art and taste. It is in fact a great greenhouse, the greater part of it being covered in during the winter. We were shown through the upper rooms of the palace, which did not seem to us very remarkable. Napoleon lodged here at one time during his great Italian campaign and of course his bed room is still shown. Also a tree in the garden on which he cut with his knife the word “battaille” {“battle”}. We were carried down to the “grottoes” under the palace. They are quite handsome small rooms, with roofs, walls and floor of pebbles of different colors in mosaic patterns. Many of them open to the lake and some admitting its waters. In one of them Napoleon had dined previous to the battle of Marengo. We were shown all over the garden, we spent some time walking over its terraces, under lemon and orange trees, full of the ripe fruit, where the century plant grows wild and tropical vegetation flourishes in the open air and this within twelve hours ride of the Alpine snows, and eternal glacier, which by the way are in plain sight from these orange trees. From a little little distance it has a very square pyramidal appearance. The view over the lake is superb. The great Alps to the Northward, the smiling level lands of Italy on the south. At Isola Bella the American pine and the orange bloom almost side by side. At half past eight we started again in our boat for Laveno, reaching there at a little past ten. The moment we landed we were marched to the custom house and passport offices where we underwent quite a rigid examination, for we were within Austrian jurisdiction, perhaps the strictest government in Europe. Our boatmen were very extortionate in their charges and {Ienchnid} to resist so we had quite a quarrel and having lost the diligence were forced to take a very miserable voiturier, who at half way turned us over to another with an inferior carriage besides damaging our trunks by bad loading etc. etc. Our first impressions of Italians are not agreeable. The latter part of our drive was delightful. In it we saw our first Italian sunset which was superb; so mellow yet so brilliant. The country so level as almost to pain the eye, perfectly Italian in its characteristics, stretching in an unbroken surface as far as the eye can reach. We arrived at our hotel in Como at six o’clock this evening, having left our baggage in passing at the “Strada della Ferrata” (Railway) where no one spoke English. It is a little out of the city proper. Our driver knows no English or French, we no Italian, so had to make signs to him, which he obeys pretty well. All but the command to drive more quickly! Alice’s presto’s were useless.

Monday, October 30th 1854 ~ Chamonix

Hotel de Londres ~ We were called at six and a half this morning and breakfasted at seven. After breakfast bid the girls good bye (I kissed Alice at parting) and started off for Sallenches. The idea was so ridiculous of our going in different directions that it put us into fine spirits. We left our trunks to the girls to take care of and at eight o’clock were comfortably seated in the coupé of the diligence and “en route.” This is the best seat. It is front, just under the driver and shut in with glass. It holds just three people and after the first two hours we had it all to ourselves. The early morning was misty so that we saw but little of the country. As we approached Sallenches the view became superb. The great chain of Mt. Blanc coming into sight, the sun gilding its summits and the mist rolling upward from the valley and creeping up the hill sides. At Sallenches, we obtained our second sight of Mt. Blanc (the first was from Geneva). We dined there and the dinner was miserable in the extreme, bad wine, bad meat, bad everything, cold room. It was market-day however and the costumes of the peasants in the great square were very pretty, standing before their booths, ornamented with ribands etc. We dined with a Polish Count and his sister, the widow of a Russian officer, and with them we took a carriage for Chamonix. They had been fellow travelers in the diligence from Geneva. By the way, on the road to Sallenches we met quantities of market people coming from and going to the fair with droves of cattle, shepherds carrying their little lambs and followed by the flock, droves of black pigs, carts of calves, in one a number of dead ones and one standing alive in their midst. The Polish Count was very deaf and did no talking but his sister did enough for both and in very glib French (which was her native tongue) and we had to keep our heads very clear to understand her rattle. She told us she had one son who was in the Russian army and to my question “how do you like the Russians and their rule” she answered with an expressive shrug “je suis Polonaise.” {I am Polish.} That told the whole story and seemed a history of a great nation’s wrongs. She seemed much interested in hearing about America and showed us by her questions that she had read much about us. The country between Sallenches and Chamonny is very beautiful. The road winds between the mountains, now ascending, now descending, passing through deep defiles, by rushing brooks and waterfalls and among snow capt hills. We had a drunken driver, who whirled us down the hills at a pace that threatened to shake the carriage to pieces; still we did not reach Chamonnix until eight o’clock. Our view as we drove through the vale of Chomonix by moonlight passes description. Mt. Blanc and his aiguilles on the one hand and lesser mountains on the other; in the half light they seemed supernaturally high and their glittering summits seemed as if cut out of solid silver. In many places they were so high that the moon rays did not reach us at all, but were arrested on the sides of the opposite mountains, daguerreotyping there the fantastic shapes of the great Alpine range. The road passes close to three arms of the great “mer de glace,” which descends from the summit of Mt. Blanc into the plain, wave upon wave of ice throwing back the moonlight. Just as the moon rose this evening the sun disappeared so that their rays were blended on the great white dome of Mt. Blanc, the moon rising over it, the sun’s last rays gulding it with rosy hues after they had for some time left us in the valley in the shades of night. Oh man, what are thy works compared with Natures wonders! We cannot help asking here “what is man that thou should’st be mindful of him! We took tea with our Polish friends and retired at midnight. We are the only people at the hotel which is about to be closed for the season.

Friday, October 27th 1854 ~ Geneva

Geneva, ca. 1860.

Hotel de l’Eau ~ This is indeed a beautiful city, clean, modern, and enjoyable. The houses are large and handsome – almost every second one bears the sign “horrologerie” (watchmaking). The watchmakers shops are large and handsome besides being thick as blackberries. Mount Blanc has not shown himself today. I passed the morning in shopping and have seen so many watches as perfectly to confuse me. I give the preference to two that I have seen. One for 280 francs ($56), a fine gold watch, lepine, or “echappement a cylindre” with eight holes in rubies. It is the quality sold in Boston for 75 or 80 dollars I think. The other is a compensated lever (“ichappement a l’ancre”) or half chronometer with fifteen holes in rubies, splendid workmanship, and costs 380 francs or 76 dollars. It would be worth in Boston from $125 to $150. On our arrival yesterday I posted off to the post office immediately and found a long and pleasant letter to me from Mother, one from Kitty to Lizzie, and several more indifferent ones. Alice had none and feels very badly. Poor girl, her last was received at London. We dined at four today on broiled chicken, dessert and “vin du pays.” The Swiss silver is much mingled with copper so that their size is large for value. Pieces of from 5 to 50 centimeters - 8 Francs, with gold Napoleon always {} Francs.

Thursday, October 26th 1854 ~ Geneva

Mount Blanc.

Hotel de l’Eau ~ We became quite attached to the Hotel Byron. It was so neat orderly and pleasant. In fact I suppose it might be called a “pension” more than a hotel. We dined there yesterday as they had us table d’hote on broiled chicken, vin du pays, and dessert. At ten o’clock we took the little steamer at Villeneuve for Geneva. (Some palpitations about the Treadwells!) The lake struck us as beautiful but not remarkably so, for the end toward Villeneuve alone commands a view of the mountains and the shores elsewhere and low and ordinary looking. On the trip we made the acquaintance of the English ladies, residents of Vivey, going also to Geneva and to Italy afterward by the Mount Cenis. They cautioned us against the snows of the Semplon, the elder of the two having met with some accident there. We arrived here at three in the afternoon and were obliged to give up our passport on landing to a Swiss soldier on the g-way. Geneva is built around the bay so that its finest streets face the water and face Mt. Blanc in the distance looking over the lake. A great snow capt dome seems from here merely the highest of a high chain of mountains, nearly equal in majesty. The range must be superb from here in Summer for they are always white with snow.

Friday, October 20th 1854 ~ Grindelwald

The Wetterhorn in Grindelwald, Switzerland.

Hotel de l’Aigle ~ We engaged horses, one for each of the ladies with two men as guides, and a man to carry the baggage and with them left Meyringen this morning over the great Scheidek Pass at half past nine. Meyringen is beautifully situated between mountains that literally shut it in on every side but one, and from that the high road conducts to Breintz. All these mountains were covered with snow at about halfway up, presenting a strange contrast with the deep green of the valley. And from the summit of one of them descends the glacier of “Rosenlaui”, a brook of ice glittering in the sunlight. Our host and hostess came out to bid us goodbye and wish us a bon voyage, and we were en route up the mountain in single file, the girls ahead on their led horses and I bringing up the rear with a Swiss mountain pole with a pike on the end. And never was such a staff more needed than during the seven hours of incessant walking, or rather climbing that ensued. The path for the greater part was so steep that it would have been a relief could it have been converted into a regular flight of steps. After reaching Rosenlaui it became a little less steep. There we rested and took a little lunch almost at the foot of the glacier, and then in half an hour pushed on in our winding way. The path is open so that it gives at every step fine views of the vale and neighboring mountain. The distance is about 20 miles and the highest elevation of the path above the sea 6000 feet. From Rosenlaui it conducted us almost immediately from verdure trees and flowers into snow, gradually increasing in depth until we stood on the summit of the Scheidek, standing in snow of more than a foot deep and having left all trees and verdure far behind. I shall never forget the view. It was snowing hard where we stood but the sun shone brightly in the green valleys on either side below. Before us lay the Wengern Alp and the great Eiger apparently close to us. The Eiger is 12220 feet higher than the sea. Immediately above us rose, like a wall of rock, snow and ice, the highest peak of the Wetterhorn (11450 feet) crowned by a great glacier which curled over its summit and crept down its sides. While we were looking up, an avalanche of snow came tumbling down from rock to rock until it rested within a gun shot of where we stood in a cloud of spray broken by the rock and air. On the other side of us rose the great domes of the Fanl-horn, the Schwerz-horn and the lesser mountains without number. We took a lunch, on the summit, of bread, meat, and wine in a little log hut uninhabited except by the “cramping wind,” or rather the guides and myself did, for the ladies lunched on horseback outside. We had brought up the provisions from Meryringen. The rarefied air of the mountain gave an additional effect to the wine in raising our spirits and Alice found the scenery far more magnificent than usual for the ensuing hour. At least she seemed to enjoy it more than before. After our halt of fifteen minutes, two hours of descent brought us to the glacier called the Ober where we dismounted (all but Alice, who was thrown off by a misstep) and leaving our horses passed into one of the transparent caves of the glacier. The green walls above and around us recalled the fabled abodes of the mermaids in old Ocean’s dominions. It descends a gorge in the mountains, looking not unlike a foaming cataract, each great frozen wave seems struggling with its fellow which first shall reach the plain, and here they are alike transfixed in Winter’s cold and in Summer’s heat. Another half hour brought us to Grindelwald and to a comfortable hotel. We ordered fire in our rooms. The girls are on the floor, before theirs at full length, much fatigued. I feel tired, not very much so, but shall not try such a walk again.

Thursday, October 19th 1854 ~ Meiringen

Postcard of Meiringen, Switzerland, ca. 1900.

Hotel du Sauvage ~ We breakfasted as usual this morning on mutton chops, cream, honey, bread, butter, etc. It was rainy but the clouds were broken and at all heights, as that we could sometimes see the tops of the hills which surrounded the little vale, in which the cottages of Lungern are scattered. Mountain rills come tumbling down the hillsides with a rushing sound. It partially cleared off at noon and we started then for Meyringen over the Brunig pass. The ladies each had a horse and a man to lead him while I brought up the train on foot. Our baggage was carried over the mountain with us on the shoulders of a fine looking Swiss. It weighed seventy pounds! Our party looked picturesque enough winding up the narrow path, in single file (large trees on either side) accompanied by their guides carrying long staves. At short intervals the men sang Tyrolean songs, which the echo returned seven fold. The view from the highest point of the pass must be very pretty but as we saw it (in the rain) it was not remarkably so. We arrived at Meyringen at four o’clock, and found a marriage feast in progress at the hotel. We were the only travelers in the house and were invited to join in the festivities. The young couple had been married at two o’clock and even now dancing with their guests, one hundred and fifty or two hundred in number, to the music of an orchestra of five pieces. The dresses were very peculiar; the man wearing very short tailed frock coats and the women in short skirts, velvet vests, without sleeves, displaying a long shirt sleeve (white). We found that they were the sons and daughters of Swiss farmers living in the neighborhood. They were having a real merry time; we joined the company and after a few moments I asked mine host to introduce me to one of the fair dames and was soon engaged in the mazes of the polka and schottische with a native of the land in which they originated. I was unable to say a word to my partner for she could speak no French, and I could speak no German. At eight o’clock dinner was served; the company were seated around three long tables. At the head of the middle one the bride and groom were placed under a canopy made of green leaves. He was a fine looking fellow speaking French, German and English. The bride fine looking but not pretty. Seats were allotted us at their left hands. Near them were the respective families and the Lutheran clergyman who tied the knot. He was a jolly looking German with a cigar in his mouth. The dinner was a very good but a plain one consisting of soup, several courses of meats, dessert and wine of the country. After it had been discussed the clergy man made a congratulatory address, ending with the song (joined in by all) “Sie Leben Hoch.” This was followed by some toasts and then young men went out of the room and returned with little presents (mostly articles of dress) which they presented to their respective favorites of the other sex. They were given with many jokes, holdings of mock auctions over them etc. After this everyone made some present to the bride or groom in the same gay style. Generally articles of household use, and in several instances money. One of these was an apple with gold pieces stuck in it. There were several baskets of chinaware etc. etc. It was a scene of great festivity without ceremony or restraint and we enjoyed it vastly. After dinner the company assembled again in the ball room where they danced until two in the morning. Very beautiful chessmen of carved wood are made here, but there are so many custom houses still before us that I do not dare to purchase.

Tuesday, October 17th 1854 ~ Lucerne

View from Mt. Rigi (Photo: P.R. Lloyd)

Hotel du Cygne ~ I awoke at four o’clock this morning and sprang out of bed with delight at the sight of the moonbeams on the floor; the stars were out and not a cloud in the sky. I could not get asleep again and at five the porter knocked at my door and announced the hour, with the cheering words “il fait bien tempis monsieur.” [“it’s about time sir.”] To us who had waited so long for this sound, that we might see one of the finest views of Switzerland, it was welcome indeed. At six o’clock, we were on our way to “Weggis”, in the little “beautean a vapiur,” from thence to ascend the Rigi. The morning was charming; the tops of the mountains were covered with freshly fallen snow, which was silvered by the rising beams of the sun. The mists of the Lake curled up from the water and hung in the fleecy clouds below the mountain summits, dyed by the sun in rainbow hues. The lake is very narrow and makes very picturesque windings between its high and verdant banks. I shall never forget this scene, the rainbow mist, the shadows of the clouds on lake and mountain, the verdure below and the snow above! One hours steaming brought us to Weggis, where we breakfasted and took horses for the ascent of the mountain. Each horse accompanied by a man to lead him. The path up was conducted along the side of the mountain and gave splendid views of the lake and adjoining mountains at every step. The soil was very fine and vegetation abounded, but as we advanced, it gradually became less fourishing until at the summit we rode through snow six inches deep. The Rigi is only 5600 feet high and therefore never takes snow in the summer. Still the change of temperature is very marked between it and the valley. Below we had summer weather (too warm for overcoats), above they were greatly needed. The view from the Rigi-kulen was magnificent beyond description. Looking Southward a mass of snow covered peaks met our gaze, rising into the air like waves of some polar sea charmed by the cold while in full careen. Among them our guides pointed out the Jung Frau, the Silberhorn, the Bright-horn, the Monk etc., some of the highest mountains in Europe. Looking north a great extent of level country is visible extending as far as the Lake of Zurich, whose waters we saw a shining surface set in green. There is a good hotel on the top of the Rigi, when we took a lunch of petit pains and butter with hot milk punch, a beverage our landlord had never heard of before. We rested there an hour, had a polka in the drawing room and then took up our winding way downwards. We often see clouds below us. The lake of Zug lies on the opposite side of the Rigi from Lake Lucerne, and from the summit both are distinctly seen [louing?] either base. There are half a dozen smaller lakes quite near and within sight. From here a steamer is scarcely seen on Lake Lucerne just at our feet. It is but a mooring spot on the waters and looks like a duck on a mill pond. The ascent of the Rigi requires about two hours and the decent about the same time. We got back to Weggis at four o’clock and there took a row boat back to Lucerne propelled by two strong men. We past in skirting the shore several small islands on one of which was a little chapel dedicated to the patron saint of row boats. A man has been perfectly haunting us this afternoon to allow him to travel with us as a servant and will not take no for an answer, but we do not want him. One great nuisance in traveling on the Continent is to have to wade the importunities of guides, servants, couriers etc. that one does not want…and such importunities!

Friday, October 13th 1854 ~ Lucerne, Switzerland

"The Lake of Lucerne: Mont Pilatus in the Distance" (1857) by J. Inchbold.

The morning was chilly, cold, and disagreeable, but promised to be more pleasant than yesterday. The sun peeped out at intervals and seemed to be making efforts to redeem the character of a Swiss autumn. We left Kreutzstrasse at half past eight this morning and arrived at Lucerne at four o’clock this afternoon. The country is generally level and does not possess much that would be interesting to old European travelers, but we were delighted with the picturesque dresses of the peasantry, the brown cows, eight harnessed to a plow. The peculiar houses, generally of wood, pretty at a distance but dirty and uncomfortable when closely inspected. The occasional ruins of castles each on its high rock, the pleasant manners of the peasants, who all touched their hats to us as we passed etc. Our road lay through Sursee and along the borders of the pretty little Lake Sempach. When our witurier stopt to find his horses at noon Lizzie and myself walked on, leavin the carriage to come up in an hours time. During our walk we met an old priest, drest in the rusty brown cloth frock of a monk, with a rope girdle. Around him were grouped a dozen children with whom he was talking. We joined him and in conversation he informed us that he no longer exercised the holy office. The reason why was apparent from the state of his breath. He was without a hat and had a rosary hung from his rope belt. On this road I first saw an English walnut tree. We stopt and partook of its fruit which some little boys were shaking down. One seems to see infinitely more of the country when walking and of the people. Indeed I think it is the only way to become well acquainted and enjoy a European country. If I could I should much prefer traversing Switzerland on foot. The peasants of the Northern and Eastern cantons speak bad German. In the neighborhood of Geneva the language is French, but not Parisian French. Our breakfasts since we have been in Switzerland have been peculiar. We have always honey, good butter, rich cream, French rolls or “petit pains” as they are called here. These “petit pains” are only found in the hotels, the Swiss bread tastes like our home made except that it is always a little acid and darker in color. Fresh eggs are plenty. Mutton chops are very nice here. As we approached Lucerne the country became more hilly as if to give us a foretaste of the glories to be revealed.

Wednesday, October 4th 1854 ~ Koblenz, Germany

Drachenfels Castle as it looked in the 21st and 17th centuries (photo: S. Mense, engraving: M. Merian).

Hotel Du Géant ~ Last evening at six o’clock we left Cologne for Bonn by rail and past the night there. It is only one hours ride. Bonn is a lovely place, just upon the river, where it begins to be picturesque and commands a fine view of the seven hills, with the Drachenfells castle in the distance. We saw the river by moonlight last evening. Bonn is a fine looking city, looking somewhat like an American watering place, handsome houses, unpaved streets, large trees on either side etc. It contains a celebrated university in which Prince Albert was educated. The house is still shown there in which Bethoven was born. At ten o’clock we took an open carriage provided by our hotel and left Bonn en route up the river. The drive is delightful to Godesberg, a hill overlooking the river, crowned by a ruined castle built by one of the Archbishops of Cologne in the 13th century, on the site of a Roman fort. We made the ascent on Donkeys in about 15 minutes. Our donkeys were each led by little boys. The view from the top is magnificent, finer much than that from the Drachenfells. It is a hard scrambling ride but the view repays the trouble. Our little guides, when we arrived at the top, picked little bouquets for us, in hopes to increase their “drink geld.” The little asses seemed quite disproportionate to the load they bear. My feet almost touched the ground, on either side, when seated on one of them. They walk with great elasticity and force but do not like to trot. They seem to posses more sagacity than a horse and make a loud crying when displeased, which is very painful to unaccustomed ears. Continuing our drive up the river, we found we were traversing a road founded by Marcus Aurelius of Lucius Verus, 160 years after Christ. A few miles brought us to the foot of the Drachenfells, which we ascended on mules. The hill is very steep indeed and the road winds up through vineyards almost all the way. The ruined towers at the top and the view is not as fine as in many other places on the Rhine. Still it is beautiful. We took out Childe Harold and read the passages relating to this part of the river. At half past one we took a steamer and were soon sailing rapidly up the river, between very high and irregular banks. Just above Konigswinter on the opposite side rises a steep hill on which is the ruin of the castle of Rolandseck. The nephew of Charlemagne (Roland) built it to command a view of the convent where his betrothed had taken the veil. From a point a short distance above this the prospect is charming. One may see the ruins of the Drachenfells, Rolandseck Castle, on their separate heights and the convent below, besides several less important castellated summits. Farther up the river are the ruins of Hammerstein Castle, on a high rock just over the water. It was built in the 10th century and was besieged by the Swedes in the 30 years war. Still farther up we passed the white tower which marks the spot where Caesar crossed the Rhine when leading an army against the Sicambri and also where General Hoche crossed in 1797 in spite of the opposition of the Austrians. All these Rhemish hillsides are covered with grape vines which grow on terraces and which seem to be inaccessible to mortal foot. Many of these terraces are cut out of the solid rock and the soil has been carried up to them in baskits, on the heads of the peasants. The vines did not seem to us to add to the landscape as they are trained on straight poles only about four or five feet high, which appear merely like scrub bushes from the river below. We have been perfectly enchanted with our days voyaging. The Rhine is beautiful beyond description, more beautiful by far than the Hudson (setting aside the ruins) although there are some small portions of the Hudson that more than equal it in natural beauty. This part of the Rhine is narrower than the Hudson and the banks are far more precipitous, rocky, and the general scenery wilder. The white and red wines are very agreeable to one who is a little used to them. They are entirely without adulteration and admixture of alcohol here, that these wines always have in America and possess a purer taste. Lizzie and the girls do not like them because they are not accustomed to any acid wine. The price on board the Rhine boats is one franc to one and a half per bottle (20 to 30 cts). Last evening at Bonn we all went to a concert because Alice said she “wanted to hear some German music in a German land.” But the concert turned out to be only a four Tyrolian songs given by three or four natives in costume. It would have been decidedly common in America. The audience looked just as any well dressed one would in America. Thus far life seems much the same all over. At the hotels they always give us here a square pillow (about two feet square) stuffed with down as an extra covering. It is a very peculiar arrangement because it only covers half the body, and that only for half the night, for at the first turn it rolls off. We have not seen a double bed for a long while. We arrived this evening at Coblentz. Our rooms look out upon the river.

Saturday, September 30th 1854 ~ Brussels, Belgium

The Sonian Forest or Forêt de Soignes (photo: D. Edgar).

Hotel de L’Unions ~ We find we made a mistake in selecting our hotel. It is a good house celebrated for its table d’hote but in a bad location, not near the park and decidedly “down town”. Here, and indeed all through Germany, there are no double beds, two good sized single beds being invariably used instead. They have always full white curtains descending from a round head piece. The beds are low and in what we call the French style. I took the stage at ten o’clock this morning for Waterloo, leaving Lizzie and the girls to do some shopping for lace etc. in the city. The road to Waterloo is a very fine one, graded almost as well as one of our railways. The county, for the most part, would be considered uninteresting; but some parts of it are beautiful. The distance is thirteen miles and the road is paved with round stone all the way. It passes for several miles through the forest of Soigne and over it the British troops past on their way to the great battle field. This wood Lord Byron alludes to in the beautiful lines commencing “And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, dewy with Natures tear drops as they pass.” Here the road is truly beautiful, the trees are immense and entirely shade it, and the wood is very thick. In all this level expanse of country there is not a fence or hedge or any other perceptible line to divide a man’s land from his neighbors’. The effect of this view of highly cultivated, unbroken prairie land is very fine, extending as it does, as far as the eye can reach. The field of Waterloo is only marked by a great mound of earth, on the top of which the Belgic lion, in bronze, puts his paw on a small marble world, and looks defiant. The ground the two armies occupied would not seem to give either a great advantage. It is merely a swelling meadow land. The little vale between the foes seems much too small to give either a great advantage. Wellington’s strength of position seems to have consisted entirely in having his extreme wings supported by the brick walls, which surrounded two old farm houses, so protected by clumps of trees that the French could not us their artillery against them and could not therefore get at the English from the rear on account of these temporary forts. They are called “Hougoumont” and “La Haye Sainte.” The walls of the Houngoumont are still standing and are all battered up on the outsides by musket balls fired at the loop holes. I stood upon the spot where Wellington gave his orders and to which the imperial gard almost penetrated during their final charge. The village is in plain sight, and about two miles distant, from which late in the afternoon the Prussians emerged. Our guide was an English officer of low grade who served under Wellington in the battle. He is a very smart fellow in that he does not boast of his courage but says he felt much relieved when his company were withdrawn from the fire. One cannot help feelings of sadness at the remembrance of the misery caused here and I believe we all left the place with subdued feelings and quiet faces. I got back to Brussels at four o’clock just in time for the table d’hote. Dinner in the French style. Nothing on the table, but dishes handed around, already carved and no two things placed on the same plate. Soup, corn beef, roast beef liver, fricandeau of veal larded, roast veal and baked pears, bread and cheese, jelly, pudding, pears, peaches etc. Each kind of meat constituted a separate course. The waiters are drest in black frock coats and white gloves and are generally gentlemanly looking young men speaking two or more languages.

Thursday, September 28th 1854 ~ Ghent, Belgium

Hotel Royale ~ We breakfasted early and started at nine o’clock to visit the celebrated cathedral ‘St. Bavous.” It was founded in 944 and is a fine type of the architecture of all this country during the middle ages. The inside is of white stone and the choir lined with black marble which of course presents a very strange appearance. Here Charles 5th was baptized - our guide pointed out the exact spot and showed us also the font in which the water stood. There were some (so called) fine paintings here by Rubens and Van Eyck but we did not appreciate them as much as we did the statuary on the sarcophagi. The figures of two bishops in marble reclining on their own graves seemed to us very beautiful. The perfect attitude of repose, natural position was wonderful one could almost see the marble breathe. We dined at the table d’hote at four o’clock and met there but four ladies. Almost all the guests were officers in uniform and it gave the table a very gay appearance. All drink wine. We saw scarcely a person at the table that had not his bottle. The wine are generally Rhemish. After dinner we drove to the “Marchi de Corseaux," saw the house where John of Gaunt was born. A very old looking building, narrow, and a story higher than its fellows.

Wednesday, September 20th 1854 ~ London

Pasture in Gumley, UK (photo: pdeee454 via flickr)

Miss Ayers boarding house, 29 George St Hanover Sq. ~ This is a boarding house in the American style, or at least it is called the American style but is in fact a poor imitation. She has a common parlor and charges by the week, but has a different price for brand varying with the size and situation of her rooms. This is a great place of resort for Americans who always prefer living together at a boarding house to living shut up in their own apartments at a hotel. At an English hotel a party of gentlemen and ladies are obliged to take a private parlor, in which they dine and from which they never emerge except to go to their bedrooms, or out of the house. There is no public saloon and no table (d’hote). Then the charges are made in accordance with each separate convenience or necessary one has. For instance – bedrooms so much, parlor so much, breakfast so much, tea so much, dinner so much, candles and fire are another charge. Even the dinner has no regular price, it depends upon what one orders. Being at a first class English hotel costs a party containing ladies from $3 to $6 per day each. $3 would be living with great economy. --- At half past nine this morning we started from Liverpool and reached London at half past four. We left our sea chests at the hotel in Liverpool, to be called for on our return there, in route for home. It is a great deal of extra trouble to carry much baggage in traveling abroad and a very great expense as well, for the allowance of baggage is very small to each person in public conveyances. In England it is about 60 pounds and in some places on the continent I believe every pound is charged for. We passed through an extremely beautiful country today and its is a beauty never seen with us- one arising from a state of high cultivation. The land is generally level, and almost all of it in grass, pasture or meadow, along this route, so that the effect is very beautiful. You ride for hours through a country covered with the greenest, cleanest looking grass, shaded with fine looking old trees. One almost imagines himself in a gentleman’s park for the whole distance. The houses of the cultivators are scarcely ever seen from the railroad – in a word it is a perfect garden scene, unlike anything one sees in America, where nature wild, beautiful, but uncultivated in this degree, invites labor and promise plenty. The white cows and droves of sheep look very picturesque. The depots have little flower gardens in front, are built in cottage style, and have neither the air of business or the cake and gingerbread look that ours have. Then English when they travel are not always eating cakes and pies. Both are almost unknown.

Friday, September 8th 1854 ~ At sea

Pickled limes - an old-time New England treat.

At sea ~ Alice was taken again with cramps about ten o’clock last evening. Mary sat up with her nearly all night. She slept but two hours. Dr Gallup was very much frightened by Alice’s symptoms, and entirely lost his presence of mind, so that we were absolutely forced to expel him from her state room, he disturbed her so much by his agitation. Nature proved a good physician, administered a good nights rest and today she is much better. The weather is rainy and rather cold, thermometer at 58 to 60. We are at last on the banks, we reached them yesterday, and are now leaving Newfoundland on the west. We seem at last fairly clear of the new world and bound in earnest for the old. All indications are in favor of a long passage. We passed twelve vessels yesterday and signalized one, which should report us at home. Most of these however were fishing craft. Mary and the Captain, Professor Treadwell and myself had a game of whist this evening. We occasionally get up a supper just before retiring. Sometimes I ransack the pantry, sometimes the Dr. gets out the ginger preserves, or anchovies, bread butter etc. Pickled limes.

Tuesday, September 5th 1854 ~ At sea

At sea ~ The wind is again light and poor Captain Knowles sees but a small chance of returning to the bosom of his family for a long while to come, it seems to make him quite blue. He says Lizzie reminds him so much of his wife but the only point of resemblance I can make out is that they are both very short. All the ladies aboard are quite in love with the Captain, with his manly face and gentlemanly bearing. I believe by the way it is quite the style at present to take a tender interest in any captain under whom one crosses the Atlantic (at least for the fair sex). Captain Knowles has some easily seen faults. His habits of command make him peremptory and overbearing toward inferiors and all those over whom he has any kind of authority. We had a polka on deck last evening to the music of the Doctor’s flute. This morning we passed a Hamburg bark, bound West, and were almost near enough to speak her, not quite, but as we signalized, we are in hopes of being reported on her arrival in America. We exchanged longitudes with her. The thermometer stands at 64 today and has ranged from 62 to 70 thus far on the voyage. We have now been out nine and a half days and have only made about seven hundred miles of our course. We breakfast at eight bells, dine at four bells and take tea at four bells. The table is a little dizzy feeling consequent upon holding onto your chair, balancing your plate etc., to say nothing of seeing the movable sack of glasses swinging over one’s head, all this is slightly unpleasant and will always remain so to me. At Breakfast we have coffee and tea, white bread, rye bread, boiled rye, ship and soda biscuit, beef steak, broiled salmon, pickled salmon, etc. At Dinner fish, roast duck, potted pigeons, meat pie, roast beef, stewed tomatoes, green corn, potatoes in all forms, Carolina potatoes, rice, plum pudding, squash pie, gooseberry pie, watermelon, cantaloupe, prunes, figs, nuts and raisins. This was today's dinner and is a fair specimen of all. We have for tea, bread as at breakfast, herrings, cold tongue, smoked beef, stewed prunes, preserved ginger, and Mrs. Venton’s best cake, all provisions either in the ice house or in exhausted-air cases and it is wonderful how fresh everything tastes even the cake seems as if just baked.