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32 chapters
HAMBURG AT A FIRST GLANCE.
HAMBURG AT A FIRST GLANCE.
There are travellers from the Western World who, after months of sight-seeing, return home weary and disappointed because they have never once been able to “realize that they were in Europe.” Not realize! Not know! Not feel with every fibre that one has come from the New to the Old! Why, the very lights of Hamburg gleaming through the rain and darkness, as we cold and wet voyagers at last drew near our haven, even while they gave us friendly greeting, told us unmistakably that their welcome was
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HEIDELBERG IN WINTER.
HEIDELBERG IN WINTER.
No, there's not much here, perhaps; but certainly whatever there is has an irresistible charm for one who is neither too elegant nor too wise to saunter about the streets, gazing at everything with delicious curiosity. Blessed are they who can enjoy small things. A solemn-looking professor passes; then a Russian lady wrapped in fur from her head to her feet. Some dark-eyed laborers stand near by talking in their soft, sweet Italian. The shops on the Haupstrasse are brilliantly tempting with thei
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A FLYING SHEET FROM PARIS.
A FLYING SHEET FROM PARIS.
“See this chaw-ming thing of Murillo,” says a florid youth of nineteen or twenty, with very tight gloves, an elaborate necktie, and, alas! an unquestionably American air, as he marshals a timid-looking group,—his mother and sisters, perhaps. “Quite well done, now, isn't it?” And on he went. If he knew a Perugino from a Vandyck his countenance did him great injustice. Then another party comes along,—conscientious, ponderous, English,—and halts with precision. One of them reads, in a loud voice, f
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BADEN-BADEN.
BADEN-BADEN.
“Augusta, please, dear Augusta, come out!” entreated we; but she came not. When a carriage rolled round to the door, we were in ecstasies of expectation, convinced she was going out to drive, but instead came a gentleman, servants, and travelling-bags. “Why, it's Weimar,— our Weimar!” said we with pride and ownership, because you see the Prince of Weimar lives in Stuttgart, and so do we. And as he drives off, out on the balcony among the plants comes her imperial Majesty and waves her handkerchi
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RAMBLES ABOUT STUTTGART
RAMBLES ABOUT STUTTGART
There is a small silver bell—perhaps a foot and a half in diameter at the mouth—at one side of the tower, and it is rung every night at nine o'clock and twelve, and has been since 1348. It has a history so long and so full of mediæval horrors, like many other old stories in which Würtemberg is rich, that it would be hardly fitting to relate it in toto , but the main incidents are interesting and can be briefly given. On the Bopsa Hill where now we walk in the lovely woods, and from which the Bop
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THE SOLITUDE.
THE SOLITUDE.
You can go to the Solitude, if you please, through the Royal Game Park, a pretty, quiet spot, where a broad carriage-road winds along among noble oaks and beeches, and through the trees peep the great, soft eyes of animals who are neither tame nor wild, and who seem to know that they belong to royalty and may stare at passers-by with impunity. A superb stag stood near the drive, gave us a lordly glance, turned slowly, and walked with majestic composure away. We did not interest him, but it did n
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A DAY IN THE BLACK FOREST.
A DAY IN THE BLACK FOREST.
One of the loveliest spots in all Würtemberg is Hirsau. It lies deep down in a valley on the Nagold, over which is a pretty stone bridge. High around rise the noble pines of the Black Forest, whose impenetrable gloom contrasts with the tender green of spring meadows basking in the sunshine, and makes, with the fringe of elms and birches and willows along the banks of the stream, a most magical effect of light and shade. Blessings on the one of us who first said, “Let us see the old cloister at H
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THE LENNINGER THAL.
THE LENNINGER THAL.
The little restored Gothic church at Owen is more than a thousand years old, and its walled Kirchhof recalls the times when the villagers with their wives and children sought refuge here from the descent of robber knights. The dukes of Teck are buried within the church, and their arms and those of other old families, with quaint inscriptions about noble and virtuous dames, are interesting to decipher. The prettiest thing in the church was a spray of ivy which had crept through a hole in the high
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FRANCISKA VON HOHENHEIM.
FRANCISKA VON HOHENHEIM.
All the old magnificence was lavished by Herzog Carl upon Franciska von Hohenheim,—his “Franzel,” as he called her in the soft Suabisch,—whose most romantic story is, par excellence , the thing of interest here, and the Suabians must love it, they tell it so very often. From many narratives I gather the life-story of a woman who, in spite of the stain upon her name, is deeply revered in Würtemberg for her strong, sweet influence upon its wild duke, for her wisdom and gentleness, and the good tha
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“NUREMBERG THE ANCIENT.”
“NUREMBERG THE ANCIENT.”
Then came a few hours in the German Museum, where, as usual in such places, the weary lagged behind, the elegant looked blasé , the contrary-minded saw the wrong thing first, the energetic pushed valiantly on, striving to see all and remember all, from earliest forms of sculpture down through the ages,—all the gold and silver and carvings and costumes, the immense square green stoves, with the warm, cosy seat for the old grandmother in the corner; to glance at rare old lace without neglecting th
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SOME WÜRTEMBERG TOWNS.
SOME WÜRTEMBERG TOWNS.
To return to our Wasseralfingen,—most curious name!—it was pretty enough to look upon, as indeed most places in Würtemberg are. It has its nicely-laid-out little park or Anlagen , with a statue in the middle of it; and this is what small manufacturing towns at home are not apt to waste much time upon, unfortunately for their children and their children's children. An inn nestled among the trees, with irregular wings and low, broad roofs, and a very broad landlord, who looked like a beer-mug, gav
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IN A GARDEN.
IN A GARDEN.
This particular place on the lake is Friedrichshafen. It is really a new place and a commercial place,—and these adjectives are certainly not attractive,—but then the newness is not conspicuous, and the commerce, so far as we summer birds of passage are concerned, almost invisible. The king and queen of Würtemberg come here every summer, and are here at present. The Emperor of Germany and the Grand Duke of Baden are on the Island of Mainau. It may be a busy place, but it does not seem so. Conten
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LINDAU AND BREGENZ.
LINDAU AND BREGENZ.
Gebhardsberg is the first place to which people usually go from Bregenz. We went, as in duty bound. It is a mountain—a castle—a pilgrimage church—a view; and to say that one commands a view of the entire lake, the valley of the Bregenzer Ach and the Rhine, the Alps, the snow mountains of Appenzel and Glarus, with mountains covered with pine forests in the foreground, conveys a very faint idea of the beauty before our eyes. In the visitors' book in the tower were some German rhymes, which, roughl
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THE VORARLBERG.
THE VORARLBERG.
“I think it must be snow,” said the wife, doubtfully. Then, “But only see the beautiful mountains.” “Hm, hm,” remarks the lieber Mann , regarding them superciliously through his eye-glass; “I can't say that they are particularly well-formed!” Here, at least, is a head that is secure; no jocund day on the misty mountain-tops, no broad, magnificent ranges at high noon, and no twilight with “mountains in shadow, forests asleep,” have power to move that astute Kopf a fraction of an inch. “They have
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IN THE TYROL.
IN THE TYROL.
In one village they exhibit the room where Frederic Augustus, king of Saxony, died suddenly from the kick of a horse. Having no inordinate interest in his deceased majesty, we were quite content to gaze placidly at the outside of the house from the post-wagon, as we informed the man who tried to induce us to march in, pay our fees, and so increase the revenues of the inn. He was deeply disgusted, and evidently considered us persons of inferior taste. You are shown, off at the right of the road o
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INNSBRUCK.
INNSBRUCK.
Theodoric is considered the finest as a work of art. So says all established authority; but to me Arthur is hardly less interesting. Perhaps, in some absurd way, it gratified us of Anglo-Saxon blood to see, in the midst of these Rudolphs and Sigismunds, these counts of Hapsburg and dukes of Burgundy, a hero who seemed to belong to us; but, whatever was the cause, the blameless king won our loving admiration. Theodoric is the more graceful. He stands in an easy, leaning attitude. He is lost in th
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OHENSCHWANGAU AND NEU SCHWANSTEIN.
OHENSCHWANGAU AND NEU SCHWANSTEIN.
This road to Reutte is one of the finest of the mountain-passes between the Tyrol and Bavaria. The deep, wooded ravines, lovely, dark-green lakes, and noble heights make the landscape very beautiful and inspiring. Near Lennos, you see on the east great bald limestone precipices, the snowy Zugspitze, 9,761 feet high, the Schneefernerkopf, 9,462 feet, and other peaks of 8,000 feet and more; while you spy picturesque ruins, old hunting-seats, and fortresses here and there high on the proud cliffs.
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LIFE IN SCHATTWALD.
LIFE IN SCHATTWALD.
We drove to the village inn. There were hens and children on the broken stone doorstep, and men drinking beer in a little pavilion close by. A broad and jocund landlady told us there was absolutely no place for us. We are, therefore, ensconced in a veritable peasant's cottage over the way, going across to the inn when we are hungry, which is tolerably often in this mountain air. Our rooms are broad and very low, with wide casements having tiny panes. A stout wooden bench against the wall serves
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UP THE AIRY MOUNTAIN.
UP THE AIRY MOUNTAIN.
“Impossible, madame.” “ Why impossible?” “Not precisely impossible; but it would be better, ah, yes, madame, far better, to remain here,”—with the sweetest of smiles,—“and go on to St. Moritz to-morrow.” They knew this was nonsense. We knew it was nonsense. They knew that we knew that it was nonsense. We had borne all that it was fitting we should bear. “But why ?” we sternly demand. “You will be more comfortable, madame.” “We do not wish to be comfortable.” “You will arrive at midnight.” “We li
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THE ENGADINE.
THE ENGADINE.
Behind the Kurhaus is a hill with shady seats among the trees, where you can sit by one of those impatient, impetuous little mountain brooks that come rushing down from the glaciers, and that act so young and excited about everything; and while it talks to you and tells you its wild stories and eager hopes, you say to it, “Wait till you've seen a little more of the world, my dear, and you'll take things more quietly.” And the water tumbles and foams over the rocks, and sings strange things in yo
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RAGATZ.
RAGATZ.
“ Why , do Swiss hens lay brown eggs?” To this innocent inquiry the little woman with sombre mien replied that she had boiled the eggs in our coffee. “Water was scarce, and she always did it.” Not discouraged, we remarked we would like to buy the hen that could lay such rich, delicate eggs, and take her away in our travelling-bag. The fire and the coffee-pot we might be able to establish elsewhere, but that hen was a rara avis . This small pleasantry caused a little cold ghost of a smile to flit
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A FLYING TRIP TO THE RHINE FALLS.
A FLYING TRIP TO THE RHINE FALLS.
Their height is estimated, including the rapids and whirlpools and all, at about one hundred feet, which must be very generous measurement, and they are three hundred and eighty feet broad. It may have been in part owing to the exquisite atmosphere of the day we visited them, it may be we expected too little on account of the tales our friends had told us, but certainly we found them very lovely, and Nature seems to have given their surroundings a peculiar grace. The shores are so extremely pret
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DOWN FROM THE HIGH ALPS.
DOWN FROM THE HIGH ALPS.
The people in the hotels are often a source of amusement to us. We consider them fair game, when they are very comical, because—who knows?—perhaps we also are amusing to them. Some faces, however, look too bored and miserable to be amused by anything. It is very inelegant never to be bored,—to like so many different people, ways, thoughts, things. We often feel mortified that we are so much amused, but the fault is ineradicable. There is an Englishwoman of rank, whom we have met recently in our
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UP AND ON AND DOWN THE RIGI.
UP AND ON AND DOWN THE RIGI.
Our Rigi experience, taken all in all, was an agreeable and a very amusing outing. We had waited long till skies were fair enough for us to venture, but at last Pilatus looked benign, and we had the loveliest of sails across that lovely lake, Lucerne; happy sunlight falling on blue water and exquisite shores, shadows of floating clouds reflected in the depths; and all the noble army of mountains thronging before us, and beside us, and behind us; bold barren hills rising sharply against rich and
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A KAISER FEST.
A KAISER FEST.
Then the Oberbürgermeister , with committees in black coats and white rosettes behind him, in behalf of the city, made his little speech, which I will not quote because we all know what mayors have to say on such occasions, and this was quite the proper thing, as mayors' addresses always are. Indeed, if I only venture to give the first half-dozen words, I fear that people who are not used to the German form of expression will be alarmed, and will say gently, “Not any more at present, thank you.”
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THE CANNSTADT VOLKSFEST.
THE CANNSTADT VOLKSFEST.
Yes, it is like entertainments of a similar grade with us,—like, yet unlike. The elephant goes round, the band begins to play, the men in front of the different tents roar and gesticulate and try to out-Herod one another, the jolly little children go swinging round hilariously on the great whirligigs, the man with the blacked face is the same cheerful, merry, witty personage who charms the crowd at home. Indeed, they are all quite the same, only they talk German, they are jollier and fatter, the
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IN A VINEYARD.
IN A VINEYARD.
“O, yes, do ,” says our German friend, with a sardonic expression. “By all means give our Suabian peasants chocolate-cakes; but then what will they have to eat ?” she demands, grimly. “Why, chocolate-cakes, to be sure,” says Miss Innocence. With a withering air of half-concealed contempt, the very clever German girl endeavors to present to the mind of the little lady from New York—who lives chiefly on sweets—the reasons why chocolate-cake and the Suabian peasant are, so to speak, incompatible. A
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AMONG FREILIGRATH'S BOOKS.
AMONG FREILIGRATH'S BOOKS.
Under his table lies a deerskin rug, a trophy of his son Wolfgang's prowess in the chase. On the walls are pictures of different sizes, irregularly hung in irregular places, and each one seems to say, “I was selected from all others of my kind because Freiligrath loved me.” They are mostly heads of his favorite authors and poets, small pictures as a rule,—the one of Schiller sitting by the open vine-clad window,—Goethe, Heine, Uhland, and many more of the chief poets of Germany; Byron, several o
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THREE FUNERALS.
THREE FUNERALS.
After the ceremonies at Düsseldorf came the solemn reception of the remains here. Early in the evening the streets were thronged with an immense but quiet, patiently waiting crowd, and, along the line where the procession was to pass, burning tar cast a fitful light over the mass of people: and the flickering flames, fanned by the night breeze, now would illumine the Residenz and Schloss Platz and the fine outline of the “Old Palace,” in the chapel of which the duke was to lie; now, subsiding, w
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SOME CHRISTMAS PICTURES.
SOME CHRISTMAS PICTURES.
Gazing out from behind her cake, one young woman remarks, sententiously,— “It's gingerbread with things in it.” Another stops in her investigations with,— “It is as hard as a brownstone front.” “It's delightful not to know in the least what's coming next,” says another. “I've just reached a stratum of jelly and am going deeper. Farewell.” “Echt Nürnberger, echt Nürnberger!” croaked the old dame, still nodding, still blessing; and so, meditatively eating her cakes, we gazed at her and wondered if
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HAMBURG AGAIN.
HAMBURG AGAIN.
In a room radiant, not with one Christmas-tree, but with five,—a whole one for each person being the generous allowance,—stood a lordly fir, glistening with long icicles of glass, resplendent with ornaments of scarlet and gold and white. The stars and stripes floated proudly from its top; unmistakable cherries of that delectable substance, Marzipan, hung in profusion from its branches; and at its base stood the Father of his Country. George, on this occasion, was a doll of inexpressibly fascinat
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NOTICES OF “ONE SUMMER.”
NOTICES OF “ONE SUMMER.”
“A story of great merit, both as a novel and a work of art. In reading it, one meets on nearly every page some delicate touch of Nature, or dainty bit of humor, or pleasant piece of description.”— The Independent (New York). “One of the best of summer novels. If we are not mistaken, it will be borrowed and lent around, and laughed over, and possibly cried over, and hugely enjoyed, by all who get a chance to read it.”— The Liberal Christian. “This little book is one of the most delightful we ever
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