Shawl-Straps

by Louisa May Alcott

  V.

  _ITALY._

  Sleep as deep, dreamless, and refreshing as if the beneficent spirit ofCarlo Borromeo still haunted the enchanted lake, prepared the three fora day of calm delights. The morning was spent floating over the lake ina luxuriously cushioned boat with a gay awning and a picturesque rower,to visit Isola Bella. Everyone knows what a little Paradise has beenmade to blossom on that rock; so raptures over the flowers, the marbles,the panniers of lovely fruit, and the dirty, pretty children who offeredthem, are unnecessary.

  In the afternoon, having despatched the luggage to Florence, ourtravellers sailed away to Luini, catching last glimpses of Monte Rosa,and enjoying the glories of an Italian sunset on an Italian lake. AtLuini the girls caused much excitement by insisting on sitting up withthe driver instead of sharing the _coupe_ with their decorous duenna.'We _must_ see the lovely views and the moonlight,' said Amanda, and upshe went.

  'To sit aloft with a brigandish driver dressed in a scarlet and blackuniform, with a curly horn slung over his shoulder, and to go tearing uphill and down with four frisky horses, is irresistible,' and up skippedMatilda.

  'You will both catch your death of cold, if you don't break your necks,so it will be well to have some one to nurse or bury you,' and Lavinia,finding commands and entreaties vain, entered the _coupe_ with mournfuldignity.

  With a toot of the horn, and cheers from the crowd, which the girlsgracefully acknowledged, away rumbled the diligence, with at least twovery happy occupants. How lovely it was! First, the soft twilightwrapping everything in mysterious shadow, and then the slow uprising ofa glorious full moon, touching the commonest object with its magicallight. Cries of rapture from the girls atop were answered byexclamations from Livy, hanging half out of the _coupe_ regardless ofnight air, or raps on the head from overhanging boughs, as they wentclimbing up woody hills, or dashing down steep roads that wound sosharply round corners, it was a wonder the airy passengers did not flyoff at every lurch. Rattling into quiet little towns with a grand'tootle-te-too' of the horn was an especial delight, and to see thepeople gather so quickly that they seemed to spring from the ground. Amoment's chatter, a drink for the horses, a soft 'Felice notte,'another toot, and away thundered the diligence for miles more ofmoonlight, summer air, and the ecstasy of rapid motion.

  What that dear, brown driver with the red vest, the bobtailed, buttonycoat, and the big yellow tassels dancing from his hat brim, thought ofthose two American damsels we shall never know. But it may be imaginedthat, after his first bewilderment, he enjoyed himself; for Amanda airedher Italian and asked many questions. Matilda invited him to performnational airs on all occasions, and both admired him as openly as if hehad been a pretty child.

  Lavinia always cherished a dark suspicion that she narrowly escapeddestruction on that eventful night; for, judging from the frequentmelody, and the speed of the horses, she was sure that either Amandatooted and Matilda drove, or that both so bewildered the brigand thathe lost his head. However, it was all so delightful that even Grannyfelt the charm, and was sure that if they did upset in some romanticspot, a Doctor Antonio would spring up as quickly as a mushroom, andmend their bones, marry one of her giddy charges, and end the affair inthe most appropriate manner.

  Nothing happened, fortunately, and by nine o'clock they were safely atLugano, and, tearing themselves from the dear brigand, were takenpossession of by a shadowy being, who fed them in a marble hall withstatues ten feet high glaring at them as they ate, then led them to abower which had pale green doors, a red carpet, blue walls, and yellowbed covers,--all so gay it was like sleeping in a rainbow.

  As if another lovely lake under the windows, and moonlight _ad libitum_,was not enough, they had music also. Lavinia scorned the idea of sleep,and went prowling about the rooms, hanging over the balconies, and doingthe romantic in a style that was a disgrace to her years. She it was whomade the superb discovery that the music they heard came from across theway, and that by opening a closet window they could look into a theatreand see the stage.

  All rushed at once and beheld an opera in full blast, heartily enjoyingthe unusual advantages of their position; for not only could they hearthe warblers, but see them when the curtain was down. What a thing itwas to see Donna Anna do up her black hair, Don Giovanni dance a jig,and stately Ottavio imbibe refreshment out of a black bottle, and theghostly Commander prance like a Punchinello as they got him intoposition.

  The others soon succumbed to sleep; but, till long after midnight, oldLivy wandered like a ghost from the front balcony, with the lovely lake,to the closet window and its dramatic joys, feeling that no moment ofthat memorable night should be lost, for what other traveller couldboast that she ever went to the opera wrapped in a yellow bedquilt?

  On the morrow a few pictures of Luini before breakfast, and then moresailing over lakes, and more driving in festive diligences to Menaggio,where a boat like a market waggon without wheels bore them genteelly toCadenabbia, and a week of repose on the banks of Lago Como.

  Their palace did not 'lift its marble walls to eternal summer' by anymeans; for it rained much, and was so cold that some took to their bedsfor warmth, stone floors looking like castile-soap not being just thething for rheumatism. Hand-organs, dancing-bears, two hotels, onevilla, no road but the lake, and an insinuating boatman with one eye wholay in wait among the willows, and popped out to grab a passenger whenanyone ventured forth, are all that remains in the memory regardingCadenabbia.

  A few extracts from Lavinia's note-book may be found useful at thispoint, both as a speedy way of getting our travellers to Rome, and forthe bold criticisms on famous places and pictures which they contain:--

  'Milan.--Cathedral like a big wedding-cake. "Last Supper" in thebarracks--did not "thrill;" tried to, but couldn't, as the picture is sodim it can hardly be seen. Ambrosian Library.--Lock of L. Borgia's hair;tea-coloured and coarse. Don't believe in it a bit. Jolly old books, butcouldn't touch 'em. Fine window to Dante. Saw cathedral illuminated;very theatrical, and much howling of people over the deputies from Rome.Don't know why they illuminated or why they howled; didn't ask. Men herehandsome, but rude. Women wear veils and no bonnets,--fat and ugly.Gloves very good.--Arch of Peace.--More peace and less arch would bebetter for Italy.

  'Raphael's Marriage of the Virgin.--Stiff and stupid. Can't likeRaphael. Dear, pious, simple, old Fra Angelico suits me better.

  'To the Public Garden with A.; saw a black ostrich with long pink legs,who pranced and looked so like an opera dancer that we sat on the fenceand shrieked with laughter.

  'Pavia.--To the Certosa to see the old Carthusian Convent founded in1396; cloisters, gardens, and twenty-four little dwellings, with chapel,bedroom, parlour, and yard for each monk, who is never to speak, andcomes out but once a week. A nice way for lazy men to spend their liveswhen there is so much work to be done for the Lord and his poor! Wantedto shake them all round, though they did look well in their gowns andcowls gliding about the dim cloisters and church. Perhaps they are keptfor that purpose.

  'Parma.--Dome of church frescoed by Correggio. All heaven upsidedown;fat angels turning somersaults, saints like butchers, and martyrssimpering feebly. Like C.'s babies much better. Heaven can't be painted,and they'd better not try. Madonna, by Girolamo, was lovely. Room of theAbbess, with rosy children peeping through the lattice, very charming.Madonna della Scodella--the boy Christ very charming. The old FarneseTheatre most interesting; got a scrap of canvas from a mouldy scene.Dead old place is Parma.

  'Bologna.--Drove in a pelting rain to the Academy, and saw manypictures. A Pieta, by Guido, was very striking. The desolate mother,with her dead son on her knees, haunted me long afterwards. St. Jeromeand the infant Christ, by Elizabeth Sirani, I liked. Raphael won't suityet. Sad for me, but I cannot admire Madonnas with faces likefashion-plates, or dropsical babies with no baby sweetness about them.

  'Florence.--Bought furs. Nice climate to bring invalids into. Always didthink Italy a humbug, and I begin to see I was right. Ac
res of pictures.Like about six out of the lot. Can't bear the Venus, or Titian's famoushussy hanging over it. Like his portraits much. Busts of Roman emperorsgreat fun. Such bad heads! The Julias, Faustinas, and Agrippinas, withhair dressed like a big sponge on the brow, were so comical I was nevertired of looking at them. I see now where the present bedlamite style ofcoiffure comes from.

  'The philosophers, &c., were very interesting. Cicero so like WendellPhillips that I could hardly help clapping my hands and saying, "Hear!hear!"

  'Gave A. a sad blow by saying the Campanile looked like an inlaidwork-box. Did not admire it half so much as I did a magnificent stonepine. Best of all, saw in the old Monastery of St. Marco many works ofFra Angelico. I love his pictures, for he put his pious heart into them,and one sees and feels it, and I don't care if his saints do have sixjoints to their fingers and impossible noses. A very dear picture of"Providenza,"--poor monks at an empty table and angels bringing bread.

  'Angelico's picture of heaven was more to my mind than any I have seen.No stern, avenging God, no silly Madonna, but happy souls playing likechildren, or singing and piping with devout energy.

  'Relics of Savonarola,--his cell, bust, beads, hair-cloth shirt, and abit of wood from the pile on which they burnt him. I like relics of oneman who really lived, worked, and suffered, better than armies ofangels, or acres of gods and goddesses.

  'Pleasant drives. Saw artists, Casa Guidi windows, and a model babyhouse with dolly's name on the door, and steps modelled by hands thathave made famous statues. "Papa's baby house" was best of all his worksto me. A nice little earthquake and a trifle of snow to enhance thecharms of this sweet spot.

  'Visited Parker's grave, and was afflicted to find it in such anunlovely, crowded cemetery. It does not matter after all: his bestmonument is in the hearts that love him and the souls he fed. As I stoodthere a little brown bird hopped among the vines that covered the grave,pecked its breakfast from a dry seed-pod, perched on the head-stone witha grateful twitter, as grace after meat, and flew away, leaving mecomforted by the little sermon it had preached.'

  'I don't wish to hurt your feelings, dear, but if this is Rome I mustsay it is a very nasty place,' began Lavinia, as they went stumblingthrough the mud and confusion of a big, unfinished station on theirarrival at the eternal city.

  'People of sense don't judge a place at ten o'clock of a pitch-dark,rainy night, especially if they are hungry, tired, and, excuse me, love,rather cross,' returned Amanda, severely, as they piled into a carriageand drove to Piazzi di Spagna.

  'I see a divine fountain! A splendid palace! Now it's a statue of somesort! I do believe that dark figure was a monk! I know I shall like itin spite of everything,' cried Matilda excitedly, flattening her noseagainst the window.

  She had been much disappointed at not being able to enter Rome bydaylight, so that she might clasp her hands and cry aloud, half-stifledwith the overpowering emotions of the moment, 'Roma! Roma! the eternalcity, bursts upon my view!' That was the proper thing to do, and it wasa blow to make so commonplace and ignoble an entry into the city of herdreams.

  Early next morning, Livy was roused from slumber by cries of delight,and, starting up, beheld her artist sister wrapped in a dressing-gown,with dishevelled hair, staring out of the window, and murmuringincoherently,--

  'Spanish Steps, that's where the models sit. Propaganda, famous Jesuitschool. Hope I shall see the little students in their funny hats andgowns. That's the great monument thing put up to settle the ImmaculateConception fuss. Very fine, but the apostles look desperately tired ofholding it up. Dear old houses! Heavens! there's a _trattoria_ man withsomebody's breakfast on his head! Don't see any costumes. Where are thesheepskin suits? the red skirts and white head-cloths? Girl withflowers. Oh, how lovely! Mercy on us, there's an officer staring uphere, and I never saw him!'

  In came the blond head, and the blue dressing-gown vanished from theeyes of the handsome soldier who had been attitudinizing with his highboots, gray and scarlet cloak, jingling sword, and becoming _barrette_cap, for the especial benefit of the enraptured stranger.

  'Livy, it is just superb! Get up and come out at once. It is cloudingup, and I must have one look or lose my mind,' said Matilda, flyingabout with unusual energy.

  'You will have to get used to rain if you stay here long, my child,'returned the Raven.

  And she was right. It poured steadily for two months, with occasionalflurries of snow, also thunder, likewise hurricanes, the tramontana, thesirocco, and all the other charming features of an Italian winter. Thatnothing might be wanting, a nice little inundation was got up for theirbenefit, December 28th.

  Sitting peacefully at breakfast on the morning of that day, in theircosey apartment, with a fire of cones and olive-wood cheerily burning onthe hearth, Jokerella, the big cat, purring on the rug, the littlecoffee-pot proudly perched among bread and butter, eggs and fruit, whilethe ladies, in dressing-gowns and slippers, lounged luxuriously inarm-chairs, one red, one blue, one yellow; they (the ladies, not thechairs) were started by Agrippina, the maid, who burst into the roomlike a bomb-shell, announcing, all in one breath, that the Tiber hadrisen, inundated the whole city, and instant death was to be the doom ofall.

  Rushing to the window to see if the flood had quite covered the steps,and cut off all retreat, the friends were comforted to observe no signsof water, except that half-frozen in the basin of the fountain abovewhich leaned their favourite old Triton, with an icicle on the end ofhis nose.

  'I must go and attend to this. The poor will suffer; we may be able tohelp,' said Livy, forgetting her bones, and beginning to scramble on herfur boots as if the safety of the city depended on her.

  The others followed suit, and leaving Jokerella to ravage the table,they hurried forth to see what Father Tiber was up to. A mostreprehensible prank, apparently, for the lower parts of the city wereunder water, and many of the great streets already as full of boats asVenice.

  The Corso was a deep and rapid stream, and the shopkeepers weredisconsolately paddling about, trying to rescue their property.

  'Our dresses, our beautiful new dresses, where are they now!' wailedthe girls, surveying Mazzoni's grand store, with water up to thebalcony, where many milliners wrung their hands, lamenting.

  The Piazza del Popolo was a lake, with the four stone lions justvisible, and still spouting water, though it was a drug in the market.In at the open gate rolled a muddy stream, bearing hay-stacks,brushwood, and drowned animals along the Corso. People stood on theirbalconies wondering what they should do, many breakfastless; for howcould the _trattoria_ boys safely waft their coffee-pots across suchcanals of water? Carriages splashed about in shallower parts withagitated loads, hurrying to drier quarters; many were coming downladders into boats, and crowds stood waiting their turn with bundles ofvaluables in their hands.

  The soldiers were out in full force, working gallantly to save life andproperty; making rafts, carrying people on their backs, and goingthrough the inundated streets with boat-loads of food for the hungry,shut up in their ill-provided houses. Usually at such times the priestsdid this work; but now they stood idly looking on, and saying it was ajudgment on the people for their treatment of the Pope. The people weretroubled because the priests refused to pray for them: but otherwisethey snapped their fingers at the sullen old gentlemen in the Vatican;and the brisk, brave troops worked for the city quite as well (theheretics thought better) than the snuffy priests.

  In the Ghetto the disaster was truly terrible, for the flood came sosuddenly that the whole quarter was under water in an hour. The scenewas pitiful; for here the Jews live packed like sardines in a box, andbeing washed out with no warning, were utterly destitute. In one streeta man and woman were seen wading up to their waists in water, pushing anold mattress before them, on which were three little children, all theyhad saved.

  Later in the day, as boats of provisions came along, women and childrenswarmed at the windows, crying, 'Bread! bread!' and their wants couldnot be supplied in spite
of the care of the city authorities. One oldwoman who had lost everything besought the rescuers to bring her alittle snuff for the love of heaven; which was very characteristic ofthe race. One poor man, in trying to save a sick wife and his littleones in a cart, upset them, and the babies were drowned at their owndoor. Comedy and tragedy side by side.

  Outside the city, houses were carried off, people lost, and bridgesswept away, so sudden and violent was the flood. The heavy rains andwarm winds melted the snow on the mountains, and swelled the river tillit rose higher than at any time since 1805.

  Many strangers, who came to Rome for the Christmas holidays, sat intheir fine apartments without food, fire, light, or company, till takenoff in boats or supplied by hoisting stores in at the windows.

  'We can hold out some time, as we live on a hill, and Pina has laid inprovisions for several days. But if the flood lasts, we shall come towant; for the wood-yards are under water, the railroads down, and thepeasants can't get into the city to bring supplies, unless the donkeysswim,' said Amanda, reviewing the situation.

  'Never mind; it's so exciting; only we must not forget that we engagedto go and see the Roastpig Aurora to-day,' answered Matilda, whoinsisted on pronouncing Rospigliosi in that improper manner.

  'I like this infinitely better than any of your picturesquerefrigerators, and it thrills me more to watch one of those dear, dirtysoldiers save women and babies than to see a dozen "Dying Gladiators"gasping for centuries in immortal marble,' added Lavinia, who hadshocked her artistic friends by sniffing at the famous statue, andwishing the man would die and done with it, and not lie squirming there.

  'Come away, Mat: she has no soul for art, and it is all in vain to tryand breathe one into her,' said Amanda, with the calm pity of one whohad read up every great picture, studied up every famous statue, andknew what to admire, when to thrill, and just where the various emotionsshould come in.

  So they left the outcast perched on a wall, waving her muff at them,and calling out, 'Nater for ever!' to the great horror of an Englishlady, who would have seen all Rome upset without any unseemlyexcitement.

  That night the gas gave out, and mysterious orders were left at housesfor lamps to be kept burning till morning. Thieves abounded, and theladies prepared their arms--one pistol, one dagger, and a largeumbrella--then slept peacefully, undisturbed by the commotion in thekitchen, where cats, live chickens, and Pina's five grandmothers, alllived together, rent free.

  Amanda's last prediction was, that they would find themselves gentlyfloating out at the Porta Pia about midnight. Mat wailed for a submergedgallery in which she had hoped to ice herself on the morrow, and Livyindulged the sinful hope that the Pope would get his pontificalpetticoats very wet, be a little drowned, and terribly scared by theflood, because he spoilt the Christmas festivities, and shut up all thecardinals' red coaches.

  Next day the water began to abate, and people made up their minds thatthe end of the world was not yet. Gentlemen paid visits on the backs ofstout soldiers, ladies went shopping in boats, and family dinners werehanded in at two-story windows without causing any remark, so quickly dopeople adapt themselves to the inevitable.

  Hardly had the watery excitement subsided when a new event set the cityin an uproar.

  The King was not expected till the tenth of January; but the kind soulcould not wait, and, as soon as the road was passable, he came with300,000 francs in his hands to see what he could do for his poor Romans.He arrived at 4 A.M., and though unexpected, the news flew through thecity, and a crowd turned out with torches to escort him to the Quirinal.

  Again did the explosive Pina burst in upon her mistresses with the news,this time in tears of joy, for the people began to think the King wouldnever come, and therefore were especially touched by this prompt visitin the midst of their trouble. The handsome damsel was a spectacleherself, so dramatic was she as she shook her fist at the Pope, andcheered for the King, with a ladle in one hand, an artichoke in theother, her fine eyes flashing, and her mellow voice trembling, while shetalked regardless of the _polenta_ going to destruction in thefrying-pan.

  On went the bonnets, out flew the ladies, and rushed up to the Quirinal,where stood a great crowd waiting eagerly for a sight of the King.

  There was a great bustle among the officials, and splendid creatures,in new uniforms, ran about in all directions. Grand carriages arrived,bringing the high and mighty, gaping but loyal, to greet their lord.General Marmora--a thin, shabby, energetic man--was everywhere; for thenew order of things seemed a little hitchy. Dorias and Colonnasgladdened plebeian eyes, and the people cheered every thing, from theCommander-in-Chief to somebody's breakfast, borne through the crowd by astately 'Jeames' in livery, who graciously acknowledged the homage.

  For one mortal hour our ladies stood in a pelting rain, and thenretired, feeling that the sacrifice of their best hats was all thatcould reasonably be expected of free-born Americans. They consoledthemselves by putting out Pina's fine Italian banner (made in secret,and kept ready for her King, for the _padrona_ was _papalino_), andsupporting it by two little American flags, the stars and stripes ofwhich much perplexed the boys and donkeys disporting themselves in thePiazza Barberini.

  But the excitement was so infectious that the girls could not resistanother run after royalty; so, while Livy consoled herself with the fireand the cat, they took a carriage and chased the King till they caughthim at the Capitol. They had a fine view of him as he came down the longsteps, almost alone, and at the peril of his life, through a mass ofpeople cheering frantically, and whitening the streets with wavinghandkerchiefs.

  The enthusiastic damsels mounted up beside the driver, and hurrahed withall their hearts and voices, as well they might, for it certainly was asight to see. The courage of the King, in trusting himself in a cityfull of enemies, touched the people quite as much as the kindly motivethat brought him there, and kept him sacred in their eyes.

  The girls had a second view of him on the balcony of the Quirinal; forthe populace clamoured so for another sight of 'Il Re,' that the Pope'sbest velvet hangings were hastily spread, and Victor Emmanuel came outand bowed to his people, 'who stood on their heads with joy,' as Amandaexpressed it.

  He was in citizen's dress, and looked like a stout, brown, soldierlyman, not so ugly as the pictures of him, but not an Apollo by any means.

  Hating ceremony and splendour, he would not have the fine apartmentsprepared for him, but chose a plain room, saying, 'Keep the finery formy son, if you like; I prefer this.'

  He drove through the Ghetto, and all the desolated parts of the city,to see with his own eyes the ruin made; and then desired the cityfathers to give to the poor the money they had set apart to make asplendid welcome for him.

  He only spent one day, and returned to Florence at night. All Rome wasat the station to see him off: ladies with carriages full of flowers,troops of soldiers, and throngs of poor people blessing him like asaint; for this kingly sympathy of his had won all hearts.

  'When he does make his grand entry, we will decorate our balcony, andhave our six windows packed with loyal Yankees who will hurrah theirbest for "the honest man," as they call Victor Emmanuel--and that ishigh praise for a king.'

  So said the three, and while waiting for the event (which did not occurin their day, however,) they indulged in all the pastimes modern Romeafforded. They shivered through endless galleries, getting 'cricks' intheir necks staring at frescoes, and injuring their optic nerves poringover pictures so old that often nothing was visible but amahogany-coloured leg, an oily face, or the dim outline of a green saintin a whirlwind of pink angels.

  They grubbed in catacombs and came up mouldy. They picnicked in the tombof Caecelia Metella, flirted in the palace of the Caesars--not in theclassical manner, however,--got cold by moonlight in the Colosseum, andwent sketching in the Baths of Caracalla, which last amusement generallyended in the gentlemen and ladies drawing each other, and returningdelighted with the study of art in 'dear Rome.'

  They went to f
ancy parties, where artists got themselves up like theirown statues and pictures, and set mediaeval fashions which it was a pitythe rest of the world did not follow. They drank much social tea withtitled beings, as thick as blackberries, and, better still, men andwomen who had earned noble names for themselves with pencil, pen, orchisel. They paid visits in palaces where the horses lived in thebasement, rich foreigners on the first floor, artists next, and princesin the attic.

  They went to the hunt, and saw scarlet coats, fine horses, bad riding,many hounds, and no foxes.

  As a change they got up game parties _a la_ Little Athens in their ownsmall _salon_, introduced the Potatoe Pantomime, had charades, andenacted the immortal Jarley's waxworks on one of the Seven Hills.

  A true Yankee breakfast of fish-balls, johnny-cake, and dip-toast, wasgiven in their honour, and its delights much enhanced by its beingeaten in a lovely room with reeds and rushes on the pale-green walls,shell-shaped chairs, and coral mirror-frames. What a thing it was toconsume those familiar viands in a famous palace, with Guido's Cencidownstairs, a great sculptor next door, three lovely boys as waiters,and 'Titian T.' to head the feast, and follow it up with dates from theNile, and Egyptian sketches that caused the company to vote a speedyadjournment to the land 'of corkendills' and pyramids.

  These and many other joys they tasted, and when all else palled uponthem they drove on the Campagna and were happy.

  It is sad to be obliged to record that these quiet drives were theespecial delight of the unsocial Lavinia, whose ill-regulated mind soonwearied of swell society, classical remains, and artistic revelry.Ancient Rome would have suited her excellently, she thought; but modernRome was such a chaos of frivolity and fanaticism, poverty andsplendour, dirt and devilry, dead grandeur and living ignorance, thatshe felt as if shut up in a magnificent tomb, the bad air of which waspoisoning both body and soul.

  Her only consolation was the new freedom, that seemed to blow over Romelike a wholesome wind. Old residents lamented the loss of the priestlypageants, _fetes_, and ceremonies; but this republican spinsterpreferred to see Rome guarded by her own troops, and governed by her ownKing, who ordered streets to be cleaned, fountains filled, schoolsopened, and all good institutions made possible, rather than any amountof Papal purple covering poverty, ignorance, and superstition. Betterthan the sight of all the red coaches that ever rumbled was thespectacle of many boys quitting the Jesuit college and demandingadmittance into the free schools; and sweeter than the music of all thesilver trumpets that ever blew were the voices of happy men and womensinging once forbidden songs of liberty in the streets of Rome.

  These sentiments, and others equally unfashionable, were only breathedinto the ear of sister Matilda when the two retired to the Campagna toconfide to one another the secrets of their souls--a process necessaryabout once a week; for after visiting studios, going to parties, andtelling polite fibs about everything they saw, it was impossible toexist without finding a vent of some sort. Once out among the aqueducts,Matilda could freely own that she thought genius a rare article in thestudios, where she expected to learn so much; and Lavinia could make theawful avowal that parties at which the order of performance was gossip,tea, music--then music, tea, and gossip, all together--were not her ideaof intellectual society. Their criticisms on pictures and statues cannotbe recorded without covering their humble names with infamy; and why thesky did not fall upon, or the stones rise up and smite these Vandals, isa mystery to this day.

  They did enjoy much in their own improper manner, but poor Amanda'ssufferings can better be imagined than described. So when Lavinia, earlyin March, proposed to flee to the mountains before they became quitedemoralized, and learned to steal and stab, as well as lie and lounge,she readily assented, and they retired to Albano.

  'The decline and fall of the Roman Empire was nothing to this, andnever have I seen such unappreciative women as you two,' sighed Amanda,as they rolled away from Numero Due Piazza Barberini, leaving Agrippinasobbing at the top of the stairs and the _padrona_ bobbing littlecurtsies at the bottom.

  'I am sure the Cenci will haunt me all my days, and so will many otherfamous things,' said Matilda, while her eye roved fondly from a verybrown Capuchin monk to a squad of Bersaglieri trotting by with jauntycocks' feathers dancing in the wind, muskets gleaming, and trim bootsskipping through the mud with martial regularity.

  'When I get the contents of my head sorted out, I shall doubtlessrejoice that I have seen Rome; but just now all that I can clearlyrecall are the three facts that the Pope had a fit, our dear man Romeogot very tipsy one night, and that we went to see the Sistine Chapelthe day the eclipse made it as dark as a pocket. Yes,' continuedLavinia, with an air of decision, 'I _am_ glad to have seen thisclassical cesspool, and still more glad to have got out of it alive,'she added, sniffing the air from the mountains, as if the odour ofsanctity which pervaded the holy city did not suit her.

  It blew great guns up at Albano, and the society consisted chiefly ofdonkeys. But the ladies enjoyed themselves nevertheless, and felt betterand better every day; for early hours, much exercise, and no aesthetictea, soon set them up after the dissipation of the winter.

  Three pleasing events diversified their stay. The first happened the dayafter they arrived. The girls went forth early to look about them, andto see if they could find a little apartment where all could be morecomfortable than in the breezy rooms at the hotel. Following the grassyroad that winds down the valley below the viaduct, they came to a lovelygarden, and, finding the gate open, went in. A queer old villa wasperched on the hill above, and a manly form was observed to be leaningfrom a balcony, as if enjoying the fine view from the height.

  'I fancied that house was empty, or we wouldn't have come in. Nevermind: we won't go back now; and if any one comes after us, we willapologize and say we lost our way going to Ajaccio,' said Amanda, asthey went calmly forward among the posy-beds that lay blooming on thehill-side.

  It was well they prepared themselves, for the manly form suddenlydisappeared from the balcony, and a moment afterwards came swiftlytowards them through the shrubs.

  A comely young gentleman, who greeted them with Italian grace, acceptedtheir apology smiling, and begged them to walk in his garden wheneverthey liked. It was always open, he said, and the peasants often usedthat path, admiring but never hurting a leaf. Hearing that they were insearch of an apartment, he instantly begged them to come up and look atsome rooms in the villa. His father was a refugee from France, anddesired to let a part of his house. Come and behold these delightfulrooms.

  So charming was the interest he took in the errant damsels that theycould not resist, and after rolling up their eyes at one another toexpress their enjoyment of the adventure, they graciously followed thehandsome youth into the villa.

  With confiding hospitality he took them everywhere--into his mother'sroom, the kitchen, and nursery. In the latter place they found two smallboys, who bore such a striking resemblance to Napoleon I. that the girlsspoke of it, and were enraptured at the reply they received.

  'Truly yes: we belong to the family. My mother is a Buonaparte, myfather Count ----'

  'Here's richness and romance!' 'What will Livy say?' whispered the girlsto one another, as their guide left them in the _salon_ and went to findhis father.

  'She will scold us for coming here,' said Amanda, remembering her ownlectures on the proprieties.

  'Yes; but she will forgive us the minute we say Napoleon, for that badlittle man is one of her heroes,' added Mat, pretending to be admiringthe view, while she privately examined a lady in a bower below--a stout,dark lady, with all the family traits so strongly marked that therecould be no doubt of the young man's assertion.

  Presently he came back with an affable old gentleman, who evidently hadan eye to the main chance; for, in spite of his elegance and affability,he asked a great price for his rooms, and felt that any untitledstranger should be glad to pay well for the honour of living under theroof of a Buonaparte.

  Amanda left th
e decision to her invisible duenna, and with a profusionof compliments and thanks, they got away, being gallantly escorted tothe gate by the young count, who filled their hands with flowers, andgazed pensively after them, as if he found the society of two brightAmerican girls very agreeable after that of his lofty parents, or thepeasantry of the town.

  Home they ran and bounced in upon Livy, blooming and breathless, topour out their tale, and suggest an immediate departure to the blissfulspot where counts and crocuses flourished with Italian luxuriance.

  But after the first excitement had subsided, Lavinia put a wet blanketon the entire plan by declaring that she would never board with anygrasping old patrician, who would charge for every bow, and fall back onhis ancestors if he was found cheating. She would go and look at theplace, but not enter it, nor be beholden to the resident Apollo for somuch as a dandelion.

  So the mourning damsels led the griffin over the viaduct, through thedirty little town, by the villa on its least attractive side. Up at thewindow were the two little Napoleonic heads, with big, black eyes,strong chins, and dark hair streaked across wide, olive-colouredforeheads. A vision of papa was visible in the garden pruning a vinewith gloves on his aristocratic hands, and a shabby velvet coat on hishighly connected back. Also, afar off on the balcony--oh, sight to toucha maiden's heart!--was the young count gazing wistfully towards Albano.He did not see the charmers as they crept down the rough road close tothe garden wall, and went sadly home, along the blooming path, to the'Tomb of the Four Thimbles,' as Livy irreverently called the ruin whichhas an ornament at each of its corners like a gigantic thimble of stone.

  A note in Amanda's most elegant French, declining the apartments in thename of Madame Duenna, closed the door of this Eden upon the wanderingperis, who entered never more. Now and then, as they went clattering byon their donkeys to Lake Nemi, or some other picturesque spot,

  They saw again the crocus bloom, And, leaning from that lofty room, Sir Launcelot with face of gloom Look down to Camelot. Up flew their veils and floated wide, But Livy pinned them to her side, 'The curse has come upon us!' cried The ladies of Shalott.

  The second adventure befell Amanda alone, and in this wise.

  Going one day to Rome, on business, she found herself shut up in a carwith a gorgeous officer and a meek young man, who read papers all theway. The tall soldier, in his gray and silver uniform, with a furred,frogged, and braided jacket, not to mention the high boots or thebecoming cap, was so very polite to the lone lady that she could notremain dumb without positive rudeness. So Amanda conversed in her mostcharming manner, finding inspiration doubtless in the dark eyes andmusical voice of her handsome _vis-a-vis_, for the officers from Turinare things of beauty and joys for ever to those who love to look onmanly men.

  Among other things, the two had a little joke about the BaronRothschild, who rode about Albano on a tiny donkey with two servantsbehind him; also the Baroness, a painfully plain woman, with an ugly dogthe image of herself.

  When they arrived at Rome, however, their joke was turned against them,by the discovery that the meek man was the Baron's secretary, who woulddoubtless repeat their chat at head-quarters. To see the handsome manslap his brow, and then laugh like a boy at the fun, was worth a longerjourney, Amanda thought, as he put her into a carriage, gave her hisbest martial salute, and went clanking away about his own affairs.

  Amanda returned at 4 P.M., and her emotions may be imagined when thedark face of her officer peered in at the car window, and the melodiousvoice asked if he might be permitted to enter. Of course he might; and,as no secretary now spoilt the _tete-a-tete_, Mars became delightfullyconfidential, and poured his woes into the sympathising bosom of Amanda.

  It had been a great affliction to him that his regiment was quartered atAlbano for some months. _Mio Dio!_ so dull was it, life had alreadybecome a burden; but now, if the Signorina was to be there, if shepermitted him to make himself known to her party, what joys were instore for him. The Signorina loved to ride. Behold he had superb horseslanguishing in the stables, that henceforth were dedicated to her use.His fellow officers were gentlemen of good family, brave as lions, anddying of _ennui_; if they might be presented to the ladies, life wouldbe worth having, and Albano a paradise, &c.

  To all this devotion the prudent Amanda listened with pleasure, butpromised nothing till Signore Mars had made the acquaintance of certainAmerican gentleman and married ladies, then it would be possible toenjoy the delights of which he spoke. The Colonel vowed he wouldinstantly devote himself to this task, and thus they came to the lonelylittle station at Albano.

  Amanda had ordered the carriage to meet her; but it was not there, andshe was forced to wait till all her fellow-passengers were gone. All butthe gallant officer, who decorously remained outside, marching to andfro as if on guard, till his servant came with his horse. Then he beggedto be allowed to see why the carriage did not come, and Amandaconsented, for night was falling, and two miles of mud lay between herand home.

  Away dashed the servant, but his master did not follow: standing in thedoorway, he declared that he must remain as the Signorina's protector,for no trains were due for hours; the depot man was gone, and it was toolate for any lady to stay there alone. Again Amanda gratefullyconsented, wondering what would be the end of her adventure; and againthe stately Colonel resumed his march outside, singing as he tramped,and evidently enjoying the escort duty that gave him so good anopportunity of displaying not only his gallantry, but his fine voice andhandsome figure.

  Down rattled the carriage at last, accompanied, to Amanda's dismay, bythree of the Colonel's friends, who had evidently received a hint ofthe affair, and had come to have a hand in it.

  With much bowing of the gentlemen, and much prancing of their finehorses, Amanda was handed to her seat, and went lumbering back to thehotel with her splendid escort careering about her, to the greatedification of the town.

  When the rescued damsel told the tale to her mates, Matilda tore herhair and lamented that she had not been there. Even the stern Livy hadno lecture for the erring lamb, but was as full of interest as either ofthe girls, for anything in the shape of a soldier was dear to her heart.

  When the ladies rode forth next day, three elegant St. Georges in fullrig saluted as these modern Unas ambled by on their meek donkeys--aperformance punctually executed ever afterward whenever the three blueveils appeared. Much curvetting went on before the hotel door; muchclanking of spurs and sabres was heard in the little lane on to whichthe apartment of the ladies looked, and splendid officers seemed tospring up like violets in secluded spots where maidens love to stroll.

  It was all very nice; and the girls were beginning to feel that thecharms of Albano rivalled those of Rome, when a sad blow upset theircastles in the air, and desolated the knights over the way.

  The highly respectable Americans who were to serve as the link betweenthe soldiers and the ladies decidedly declined the office, objecting tothe martial gentleman as being altogether too dangerous to bring intothe dove-cot. So the poor dears sighed in vain, and the longing damselsnever rode the fine horses that were temptingly paraded before them onall occasions.

  They did their best; but it was soon evident to Lavinia that in someunguarded moment the impetuous Mat would yield to the spell and gogambading away for a ride _sans_ duenna, _sans_ habit, _sans_ propriety,_sans_ everything. Amanda likewise seemed losing her head, and permittedthe dark-eyed Colonel to talk to her when they met; only a moment--butwhat a perilous moment it was!--when this six-foot Mars leaned over agreen hedge and talked about the weather in the softest Italian thatever melted a woman's heart.

  'I'm going to Venice next week; so you may as well make up your minds toit, girls. I _cannot_ bear this awful responsibility any longer; for Iam very sure you will both be off to Turin with those handsome rascalsif we stay much longer. My mind is made up, and I won't hear a word.'

  Thus Lavinia, with a stern countenance; for the romantic old lady
feltthe charm as much as the girls did, and decided that discretion was thebetter part of valour for the whole party.

  'I should never dare to go home and tell my honoured parents that Mathad run away with a man as handsome as Jove, and as poor as Job.Amanda's indignant relatives would rise up and stone me if I let hercanter into matrimony with the fascinating Colonel, who may have a wifeand ten children in Turin, for all we know. They _must_ be torn away atonce, or my character as duenna is lost for ever.'

  Having made up her mind, Livy steeled her heart to all appeals, andwrote letters, packed trunks, and watched her little flock like avigilant sheep-dog.

  How she would ever have got them through that last week is veryuncertain, if a providential picnic had not helped her.

  A fair was held in the town, and a delightful surprise-party was got upamong the artists of Rome. Twenty-five came driving over in a bigcarriage, with four gaily decorated horses, postilions, hampers oflunch, flutes and horns, and much jollity bottled up for the occasion.

  A very festive spectacle they made as they drove through the narrowstreets with flowers and streamers in their hats, singing and joking intrue artistic style.

  They meant to have lunched in the open air; but, as it was cloudy,decided to spread the feast at the hotel. Such a delightful revel asfollowed! A scene from the 'Decameron,' modernised, would give some ideaof it; for after the banquet all adjourned to the gardens of the DoriaVilla, and there disported themselves as merrily as if all the plaguesof life were quite forgotten, and death itself among the lost arts.Flirting and dancing, charades and singing, stories and statues, poemsand pictures, gossip and gambols, absorbed the hours as pleasantly as inthe olden time. And if the costumes were not as picturesque as those inVedder's fine picture, the ladies were as lovely, the gentlemen asgallant, and all much better behaved than those of Boccaccio's party.

  A few drops of rain quenched the fun at its height, and sent therevellers home as fast as four horses could take them, leaving the towngaping after them, and our ladies much enlivened by the delights of theday.

  This third and last event pleasantly ended their sojourn at Albano; fora day or two later they vanished, leaving the dear officersdisconsolate till the next batch of travelling ladies came to comforttheir despair.

  A week was spent in Venice, floating about all day from one delightfulold church to another, or paying visits to Titians and Tintorettos;buying little turtles, photographs, or Venetian glass; eating candiedfruit and seeing the doves fed in the square of San Marco; visitingshops full of dusty antiquities, or searching the stalls on the Rialtofor Moor's-head rings; being rowed to the Lido by Giacomo in a red sash;and lulled to sleep at night by the songs of a chorus that floated underthe windows in the moonlight.

  Lavinia never could get used to seeing the butcher, the baker, and thepostman go their rounds in boats. Matilda was in bliss, with a gondolaall to herself, where she sat surrounded with water-colours, trying topaint everything she saw; for here the energy she had lost at Romeseemed to return to her. Amanda haunted a certain shop, trying to makethe man take a reasonable sum for a very ancient and ugly bit ofjewellery, which she called 'a sprigalario,' for want of a better name;and after each failure she went off to compose herself with a visit tothe Doges.

  Of course they all saw the Bridge of Sighs and the dungeons below, withtheir many horrors; likewise a Mass at St. Mark's, where the Patriarchwas a fat old soul in red silk, even to his shoes and holypocket-handkerchief; and the service appeared to consist in six purplepriests dressing and undressing him like an old doll, while a dozenwhite-gowned boys droned up in a gold cock-loft, and many beggars whinedon the dirty floor below.

  Do other travellers eat locusts, I wonder, as ours did one sunny day,sitting on church steps, and discover that the food of the Apostle wasnot the insect whose 'zeeing' foretells hot weather; but the long, drypods of the locust-tree, sweet to the taste, but rather 'dry fodder,' asthe impious Livy remarked after choking herself with a quarter of a yardof it.

  When the week was up Mat implored to be left behind with Angela, themaid, and Brio, a big poodle possessed of the devil. But she was tornaway, and only consoled by the promise of many new gloves, with as manybuttons as she pleased, when they got to Munich.

  'The lakes are the proper entrance into Italy, and Venice a lovely exit.One soon tires of it, and is ready to leave, which is an excellentarrangement, though I should prefer to depart in some more cheerfulvehicle than a hearse,' observed Lavinia, as they left the long, blackgondola at the steps of the station.

  'Haven't you a sigh for those lovely lakes, a tear for Albano, a pang ofregret for Rome?' asked Amanda, hoping to wring one moan for Italy fromthe old lady.

  'Not a sigh, not a tear, not a regret. I find I like them all better thefarther I get from them, and by the time I am at home I may be able tosay "I adore them," but I doubt it,' returned the incorrigible Livy, andfrom that moment Amanda regarded her Granny as one dead to all the deardelusions of antiquity.

  VI.

  _LONDON._

  'From this moment I cease to be the commander-in-chief. Livy adoresEngland, can speak the language, understands the money, and knows allabout London; so _she_ shall be leader, and I will repose after my longlabour.' With this remark Amanda retired from office covered with glory,and her mates voted to erect a statue in her honour as a token of theirundying gratitude.

  Lavinia took the lead from the moment they landed at St. Catherine'sWarf; and though somewhat demoralized by a rough passage of eighteenhours from Antwerp, was equal to the occasion. She did love England, andthought London the most delightful city in the world, next to Boston.Its mud and fog were dear to her; its beef and beer were nectar andambrosia, after the continental slops and messes; its steady-going,respectable citizens, beautiful in her eyes, and the words 'home' and'comfort' were not an idle mockery here.

  Therefore the old lady joyfully sniffed the smoky air, gazed withtenderness on the grimy houses, and cast herself, metaphoricallyspeaking, into the arms of a stout, ruddy-faced porter, as if at lastshe had found a man and a brother.

  Nobly did the burly Briton repay her confidence and earn the shillingwhich in England makes all things possible. He bore them to the station,got tickets, checked luggage, put the ladies in a first-classcompartment, gave them all necessary directions about the hotel theywere after, and when the bell rang touched his cap with a smile upon hisdear, red face, which caused Lavinia to add a sixpence to the shillingshe gave him with a mental blessing.

  'This is truly a decent country. See how well one is cared for, howcivil everybody is, how honest, how manly,' began Livy, as she mountedher hobby, and prepared for a canter over the prejudices of her friend;for Amanda detested England because she knew nothing of it.

  'The cabman cheated us, asking double fares,' replied the dear girl,wrapping herself in many cloaks and refusing to admire the fog.

  'Not at all,' cried Livy; 'the trunks were immense, and you'll find weshall have to pay extra for them everywhere. It is the same as havingthem weighed and paying for the pounds, only this saves much time andtrouble. Look at the handsome guard in his silver-plated harness. Howmuch nicer he is than a gabbling Italian, or a Frenchman who complimentsyou one minute and behaves like a brute the next! It does my soul goodto see the clean, rosy faces, and hear good English instead ofgibberish.'

  'Never in my life have I seen such tall, fine-looking men, only they areall fair, which isn't my style,' observed Matilda, with a secret sighfor the dark-eyed heroes from Turin.

  Thus conversing, they soon came to the G---- Hotel just at the end of therailway, and without going out of the station found themselves settledin comfortable rooms.

  'Regard, if you please, these toilette arrangements--two sorts ofbath-pan, two cans of cold water, one of hot, two big pitchers, muchsoap, and six towels about the size of table-cloths. I call that animprovement on the continental cup, saucer, and napkin accommodation,'said Lavinia, proudly displaying a wash-stand that looked like adi
nner-table laid for a dozen, such was the display of glass, china, andnapery.

  'The English certainly are a clean people,' replied Amanda, softening alittle as she remembered her fruitless efforts to find a bath-pan inBrittany, where the people said the drought was caused by the Englishusing so much water.

  'They need more appliances for cleanliness than any other race, becausethey live in such a dirty country,' began Matilda, removing the sootfrom her face in flakes.

  What more she might have said is unknown; for Livy closed her mouth witha big sponge, and all retired to repose after the trials of the pastnight.

  'Now, my dears, you shall have food fit for Christian women to eat. Noweak soup, no sour wine, no veal stewed with raisins, nor greasy saladmade of all the weeds that grow. Beef that will make you feel likegiants, and beer that will cheer the cockles of your hearts; not tomention cheese which will make you wink, and bread with a little roundbutton atop of the loaf like the grand Panjandrum in the old story.'

  Thus Lavinia enthusiastically, as she led her flock of two into theeating-room at luncheon time. Being seated at a little table by one ofthe great windows, the old lady continued to sing the praises ofBritannia while wafting for the repast.

  'Isn't this better than a stone-floored _cafe_ with nine clocks allwrong, seven mirrors all cracked, much drapery all dirty, a flock of_garcons_ who fly about like lunatics, and food which I shudder tothink of? Look at this lofty room; this grave thick carpet; thatcheerful coal-fire; these neat little tables; these large, cleanwindows; these quiet, ministerial waiters, who seem to take a paternalinterest in your wants, and best of all in this simple, wholesome,well-cooked food.'

  Here the arrival of a glorified beefsteak and a shining pint-pot offoaming ale give an appropriate finish to Livy's lecture. She fell uponher lunch like a famished woman, and was speechless till much meat hadvanished, and the ale was low in the pot.

  'It _is_ good,' admitted Amanda, who took to her beer like a bornEnglishwoman, and swallowed some of her prejudices with her deliciousbeef.

  'It's such a comfort to know that I am not eating a calf's brains or apig's feet, that I can enjoy it with a free mind, and the sight ofthose two beautiful old gentlemen gives it an added relish,' saidMatilda, who had been watching a pair of hale old fellows eat theirlunch in a solid, leisurely way that would have been impossible to anAmerican.

  'It is so restful to see people take things calmly, and not bolt theirmeals, or rush about like runaway steam-engines. It is this moderationthat keeps Englishmen so hearty, jolly, and long-lived. They don't tearthemselves to pieces as we do, but take time for rest, exercise, food,and recreation, like sensible people as they are. It is like reposing ona feather-bed to live here, and my tired nerves rejoice in it,' saidLavinia, eating bread and cheese as if that was her mission in life.

  'A slight amount of haste will be advisable, my Granny, unless we intendto spend all our substance on these restful comforts of yours. Thishotel is delightfully cosy, but expensive; so the quicker we go intolodgings the better for us,' suggested the thrifty Amanda, seeing thatLivy was too infatuated to care for cost.

  'I'll go the first thing to-morrow and look at the rooms Mrs. Blankrecommended to us. This afternoon we will rest and write letters, unlesssome one comes to call,' said Livy, leading her girls to thereading-room, where sleep-inviting chairs, tables supplied withwriting-materials, and groves of newspapers, wooed the stranger torepose.

  Hardly were they seated, however, than Jeames brought in the card of afriend who had been told when they would arrive, and hastened at once tomeet them. How pleasant is the first familiar face one sees in a strangeland! Doubly pleasant was Mr. C.'s, because he brought hospitableinvitations from other friends, kind welcomes, and tickets to several ofthe art exhibitions then open.

  Hardly had he gone, after a half-hour's chat, than another card washanded, and the name it bore caused a slight flutter in the dove-cot. Afriend of Miss Livy's, in Boston, had sent orders to his brother inLondon to devote himself to the wandering ladies when they came. Theyhad never met; the poor man didn't care to have his quiet invaded bystrange women, and to do the honours of London is no small task: yetthis heroic gentleman obeyed orders without a murmur; and, leaving hisartistic seclusion, shouldered his burden with the silent courage of aSpartan.

  A grave, dark, little man, with fine eyes, quiet manners, and astraight-forward way with him that suited blunt Livy excellently. Howhe dared to face the three unknown women so calmly, listen to theirimpossible suggestions so politely, and offer himself as a slave socheerfully, will for ever remain a mystery to those grateful souls.

  His first service was to pack them into a cab and bear them safely tothe bankers for letters and money; and this he followed up by severalweeks of servitude, which must have been worse than Egyptian bondage.

  Two more large ladies joined the party after they were settled inlodgings at Kensington; but, undaunted by the fact, this long-sufferingman escorted the whole five to galleries and theatres, trips into thecity, and picnics in the country; went shopping with them, luggedparcels, ran errands, paid bills, and was in fact the sheet-anchor ofthe whole party. Imagine the emotions of one shy man when called uponto lead a flock of somewhat imposing ladies everywhere; to have two cabsfull on all occasions; to be obliged to support the invalids to followthe caprices of the giddy, to gratify the demands of the curious, and tohear the gabble of the whole five day after day.

  Buerger's Brave Man was a coward compared to him; for he not only gavehis days, but his evenings also, joining in endless games of whist,drinking much weak tea, and listening to any amount of twaddle on allsubjects.

  The society was not such as intelligent men enjoy, being composed of twoEgyptian boys and three fussy old ladies. One of them was immenselystout, wore a bright green cap, with half-a-pint of scarlet cherriesbobbing on her brow. She talked on all subjects, and handed round analbum full of her own poems on all occasions. The second must have beena sister of 'Mr. T.'s Aunt,' so grim and incoherent was she. Sitting inthe corner, she stared at the world around her with an utterlyexpressionless countenance, and when least expected broke out with somestartling remark, such as, 'If that fence had been painted green weshould get to heaven sooner,' or 'Before I had fits my memory was asgood as anybody's, but my daughter married a clergyman, and took it withher.'

  The third antiquity was the hostess, a buxom lady, much given to gayattire and reminiscences of past glory, 'Before me 'usband went intopublic life.' The strangers innocently supposed the departed Mr. K. tohave been an M.P. at least, and were rather taken aback on learning thathe had been a pawnbroker.

  The Egyptian youths were handsome, dark lads, with melodious voices,lustrous eyes, and such fiery tempers that one never knew whether theywere going to pass the bread or stab one with the carving-knife.

  As a slight mitigation of this slow society, the Russian from PensionParadis appeared with his broadcloth more resplendent than ever. Theladies had seen him in Rome; but the fever scared him away, and he wasnow fleeing from another lodging-house, where the hostess evidentlyintended to marry him to her daughter, in the MacStinger fashion.

  In this varied circle did the devoted being afore-mentioned pass manyhours after the day's hard labour was happily over, and when anyonepitied him for leading the life of a galley-slave, he hid his anguishand answered with a smile,--

  'My brother told me to do it, and I never disobey Tom. In fact, I find Irather like it.'

  That last fib was truly sublime, and the name of Cassabianca palesbefore that of one who obeyed fraternal commands to the letter, andtried to love his duty, heavy as it was. If, as has been sometimespredicted, England had gone under just then, it might truly have beensaid,--

  Though prince and peer and poet rare Were sunk among the piles, The noblest man who perished there Was faithful W. N----s.

  The sight-seeing fever raged fiercely at first, and the flock ofAmericans went from Windsor Castle to the Tower of London, from
Westminster Abbey to Madame Taussaud's Waxwork Show, with a vigour thatappalled the natives. They would visit two or three galleries in themorning, lunch at Dolly's (the dark little chop-house which Johnson,Goldsmith, and the other worthies used to frequent in the good oldtimes), go to Richmond in the afternoon and dine at the 'Star andGarter,' or to Greenwich and eat 'white baits fish,' as the Russiancalled that celebrated dish, and finish off the evening at some theatre,getting home at midnight, in a procession of two cabs and a hansom.

  When the first excitement was over, Lavinia and Matilda took a turn atsociety, having friends in London. Amanda could not conquer herprejudices sufficiently to accompany them, and, falling back on theclimate as her excuse, stayed at home and improved her mind.

  'I feel now like girls in novels. You are the Duchess of Devonshire andI am Lady Maud Plantagenet, going to a ball at Buckingham Palace. I knowthat I was made to sit in the lap of luxury: it agrees with me so well,'said Matilda, as the two rolled away to Aubrey House in a brougham, alllamps, glass, and satin. Her long blue train lay piled up before her,the light flashed on her best Roman ear-rings, her curls were in theirmost picturesque array, and--crowning joy of all--cream-coloured gloves,with six buttons, covered her arms, and filled her soul with happiness,because they were so elegant and cost so little, being bought in Romejust after the flood.

  Dowager Livy responded gravely from the depths of her silver-grey silk,enlivened with pink azaleas,--

  'My child, thank your stars that you are a free-born Yankee, and have nogreat name or state to keep up. Buckingham Palace is all very well, andI shouldn't mind calling on Mrs. Guelph, or Saxe Coburg, whichever itis, but I much prefer to be going to the house of a Radical M.P., who islending a hand to all good works. Mrs. T. is a far more interestingwoman to me than Victoria, for her life is spent in helping herfellow-creatures. I consider her a model Englishwoman--simple, sincere,and accomplished; full of good sense, intelligence, and energy. Herhouse is open to all, friend and stranger, black and white, rich andpoor. Great men and earnest women meet there; Mazzini and Frances PowerCobbe, John Bright and Jean Ingelow, Rossetti the poet, and ElizabethGarrett the brave little doctor. Though wealthy and living in anhistorical mansion, the host is the most unassuming man in it, and thehostess the simplest dressed lady. Their money goes in other ways, andthe chief ornament of that lovely spot is a school, where poor girls mayget an education. Mrs. T. gave a piece of her own garden for it, andteaches there herself, aided by her friends, who serve the poor girlslike mothers and sisters, and help to lift them up from the slough ofdespond in which so many sink. That beats anything you'll find inBuckingham Palace, sister Mat.'

  'If they want a drawing-teacher I'll offer myself, for I think that isregularly splendid,' said Matilda warmly, as Livy paused for breathafter her harangue.

  With these new ideas in her head, Lady Maud enjoyed her party, while theDuchess revelled in radicals to her heart's content; for Aubrey Housewas their head-quarters, and all were out in full force. It was cheeringto our spinster to find that things had moved a good deal since a formervisit, five or six years before, when Mill had carried into the House ofCommons a Woman's Rights petition that filled both arms. People laughedthen, and the stout-hearted women laughed also, but said, 'Our nextpetition shall be so big it will have to go in a wheel-barrow.' Now thesame people talked over the question soberly, and began to thinksomething besides fun might come of it. The pioneers rejoiced overseveral hard-won battles, and the scoffers came to see that the truestglory was won by those who did the hard work, and stood by a good causewhen most unpopular; not by those who kept out of the field till thefight was over, and then came in to wave the flags and beat the drumsover victories they had not helped to win.

  'It seems to me that these Englishwomen make less noise and do more workthan we Americans. I shouldn't dare to say so in public; but theirquiet, orderly ways suits me better than the more demonstrativeperformances of my friends at home. Slow coaches as we call them, Ishould not be surprised if they got the suffrage before we did, as thetortoise won in the fable,' was Lavinia's secret thought as they droveaway, after a very charming evening.

  Perhaps the fact that reforms of all sorts had been poured into her earstill her head was like a hive of bees, may account for this unpatrioticthought. Or it may be the pleasant effect of the healthful aspect ofthese English workers. Old or young, all seemed to have cheerful,well-balanced minds, in strong, healthy bodies. No one complained of hernerves, or let them unconsciously put a sharp edge to her tongue, give ablue tinge to the world, or sour the milk of human kindness in herheart. Less quick and bright, perhaps, than the ladies over the sea, butmore womanly, and full of a quiet tenacity of purpose better thaneloquence.

  Miss Livy's tastes being of a peculiar sort, and pictures having palledupon her to such a degree that she couldn't even look at an ornamentalsign-board without disgust, she often left her more artistic friends andwent forth on excursions of her own. As she never used either map orguide book, it was a wonder how she found her way; and the infants wereoften on the point of sending for the city crier, if there is such afunctionary, to find the lost duenna. But old Livy always turned up atlast, mud to the eyes, tired out, and more deeply impressed than everwith the charms of London.

  One day she set forth to hear Spurgeon. Being told that Lambeth was awretched quarter of the city, that the Tabernacle was two or three milesaway, and very difficult to enter when found, only added zest to thething, and she departed, sure of finding adventures, if not Spurgeon.

  If an omnibus conductor had not befriended her, she would probably havefound herself at Hampstead or Chelsea, for London busses are asbewildering as London streets. Thanks to this amiable man, who evidentlyfelt that the stranger in his gates needed all his care, the old ladysafely reached the Elephant and Castle, and was dismissed with a mossrose-bud from the lips of her friend, a reassuring pat on the shoulder,and a paternal ''Ere yer are, my dear,' which unexpected attentionscaused her to depart with speed.

  There certainly was need of a Tabernacle in that quarter, for thepoverty and wickedness were very dreadful. Boys not yet in their teensstaggered by half-tipsy, or lounged at the doors of gin-shops.Bonnetless girls roamed about singing and squabbling. Forlorn babiesplayed in the gutter, and men and women in every stage of raggednessand degradation marred the beauty of that fair Sunday morning.

  Crowds were swarming into the Tabernacle: but, thanks to the order afriend had given her, Miss Livy was handed to a comfortable seat, with ahaggard Magdalen on one side and a palsy-stricken old man on the other.Staring about her, she saw an immense building with two galleriesextending round three sides, and a double sort of platform behind andbelow the pulpit, which was a little pen lifted high that all might seeand hear.

  Every seat, aisle, window-ledge, step, and door-way, was packed with astrange congregation; all nations, all colours, all ages, and nearly allbearing the sad marks of poverty or sin. They all sung, cried out ifanything affected or pleased them in the sermon, and listened withinterest to the plain yet fervent words of the man who has gatheredtogether this flock of black sheep and is so faithful a shepherd tothem.

  Every one knows how Spurgeon looks in pictures, but in the pulpit hereminded Livy of Martin Luther. A square, florid face, stout figure, afine keen eye, and a natural, decided manner, very impressive. A strong,clear voice of much dramatic power, and a way of walking the pulpit likeFather Taylor.

  His sermon was on 'Small Temptations,' and he illustrated it by factsand examples taken from real life, pointing out several of hiscongregation, and calling them by name, which original proceeding seemedto find favour with his people. He used no notes, but talked rather thanpreached; and leaning over the railing, urged, argued, prayed, and sangwith a hearty eloquence, very effective, and decidedly refreshing afterHigh Church mummery abroad, and drowsy Unitarianism at home. Now andthen he stopped to give directions for the comfort of his flock in afree and easy manner, which called up irresistible smiles on the face
sof strangers.

  'Mrs. Flacker, you'd better take that child into the ante-room: he'stired.' 'Come this way, friends: there's plenty of room.' 'Open all thewindows, Manning: it's very warm.' And when a sad sort of cryinterrupted him, he looked down at an old woman shaking with epilepsy,and mildly remarked, 'Don't be troubled, brethren: our sister is subjectto fits,' and preached tranquilly on.

  For two hours he held that great gathering, in spite of heat,discomfort, and other afflictions of the flesh, and ended by saying, ina paternal way,--

  'Now remember what I've said through the week, and next Sunday show methat I haven't talked in vain.'

  He read a list of meetings for every night in the week. One especiallystruck Livy, as it was for mothers to meet and talk over with him thebest ways of teaching and training their children. Spurgeon evidentlydoes not spare his own time and strength; and whatever his creed may be,he is a good Christian in loving his neighbour _better_ than himself,and doing the work his hand finds to do with all his might.

  'That is a better church than most of those I enter where respectablesaints have the best seats, and there is no place for sinners,' saidLivy when she got home. 'Spurgeon's congregation preached moreeloquently to me than he did. The Magdalen cried as if her heart wasbroken, and I am sure those tears washed some of her sins away. Thefeeble old man looked as if he had found a staff for his trembling handsto lay hold upon, and the forlorn souls all about me, for a time atleast, laid down their burdens and found rest and comfort in theirFather's house. It did me more good than the preaching of all thebishops in London, or the finest pageant at St. Paul's; and I am trulyglad I went, though the saucy conductor did smirk at me over therosebud.'

  In contrast to this serious expedition, the old lady had a very jollyone not long afterward. A certain congenial Professor asked her one daywhat person, place, or thing in London she most desired to see.

  Clasping her hands with the energy of deep emotion, she replied,--

  'The home of the immortal Sairy Gamp. Long ago I made a vow, if I evercame to London I'd visit that spot. Let me keep my vow.'

  'You shall!' responded the Professor with a responsive ardour, whichcaused Livy to dive into her waterproof without another word.

  Away they went in a pouring rain, and what people thought of the dampbut enthusiastic couple who pervaded the city that day I can't say; Ionly know a merrier pair of pilgrims never visited those grimy shrines.They met several old friends, and passed several familiar spots by theway. Major Bagstock and Cousin Phenix stared at them from a club-housewindow. Tigg Montague's cab dashed by them in Regent Street, moregorgeous than ever. The brothers Cheeryble went trotting cityward arm inarm, with a smile and ha'penny for all the beggars they met; and theMicawber family passed them in a bus, going, I suppose, to accompanythe blighted Wilkins to gaol.

  In a certain grimly genteel street they paused to stare up at a row ofgrimly respectable houses; for, though the name wasn't on any of thedoors, they were sure Mr. Dombey still lived there. A rough dog lay onone of the doorsteps, and a curtain fluttered at an open upper window.Poor Di was growling in his sleep, and above there little Paul waswatching for the golden water on the wall, while faithful Florence sungto him, and Susan Nipper put away derisive sniffs and winks in closetsand behind doors for the benefit of 'them Pipchinses.'

  Coming to a poorer part of the city, they met Tiny Tim tapping along onhis little crutch, passed Toby Veck at a windy street-corner, and sawall the little Tetterbys playing in the mud.

  'Come down this street, and take a glimpse at St. Giles's, the worstpart of London,' said the Professor; and, following, Livy saw miseryenough in five minutes to make her heart ache for the day. A policemankept near them, saying it wasn't safe to go far there alone.

  Vice, poverty, dirt, and suffering reigned supreme within a stone'sthrow of one of the great thoroughfares, and made Alsatia dangerousground for respectable feet. Here, too, they saw familiar phantoms: poorJo, perpetually moving on; and little Oliver led by Nancy, with a shawlover her head and a black eye; Bill Sykes, lounging in a doorway,looking more ruffianly than ever; and the Artful Dodger, who kept hiseye on them as two hopeful 'plants' with profitable pockets ready forhim.

  They soon had enough of this, and hurried on along High Holborn, tillthey came to Kingsgate Street, so like the description that I am sureDickens must have been there and taken notes. They knew the house in amoment: there were the two dingy windows over the bird-shop; the checkedcurtains were drawn, but of course the bottomless bandboxes, the woodenpippins, green umbrella, and portrait of Miss Harris were all behindthem. It seemed so real that they quite expected to see a red, snuffyold face appear, and to hear a drowsy voice exclaim: 'Drat that bell:I'm a coming. Don't tell me it's Mrs. Wilkins, without even a pincushionprepared.'

  While Livy stood gazing in silent satisfaction (merely regretting thatthe name on the door was Pendergast, not Sweedle-pipes), the Professorturned to a woman, and asked with admirable gravity, 'Can you tell mewhere Mrs. Gamp lives?'

  'What's her business?' demanded the matron, with interest.

  'A nurse, ma'am.'

  'Is she a little fat woman?'

  'Fat, decidedly, and old,' returned the Professor, without a smile onhis somewhat cherubic countenance.

  'Well, she lives No. 5, round the corner.'

  On receiving this unexpected reply, they looked at one another in comicdismay; but would certainly have gone to No. 5, and taken a look at themodern Sairy, if the woman hadn't called out as they moved on--

  'I b'lieve that nuss's name is Britiain, not Gamp; but you can ask.'

  Murmuring a hasty 'thank you,' they fled precipitately round the corner,and there enjoyed a glorious laugh under an umbrella, to the greatamazement of all beholders.

  Being on a Dickens pilgrimage, they went to Furnival's Inn, where hewrote 'Pickwick' in a three-story room, and read it to the old porter.The same old porter told them all about it, and quite revelled in theremembrance. It did one's heart good to see the stiff, dried-up oldfellow thaw and glow with the recollection of the handsome young man whowas kind to him long ago, before the world had found him out.

  'Did you think the book would be famous when he read it to you in 1834,as you say?' asked the Professor, beaming at him in a way that wouldhave melted the heart of the stiff-tailed lion of the Northumberlands,if he'd possessed such an organ.

  'O dear, yes, sir; I felt sure it would be summat good, it made me laughso. _He_ didn't think much of it; but I know a good thing when I seeit;' and the old man gave an important nod, as if all the credit of theblessed 'Pickwick' belonged to him. 'He married Miss Hogarth whilelivin' here; and you can see the room, if you like,' he added, with aburst of hospitality, as the almighty sixpence touched his palm.

  Up they went, over the worn stairs; and, finding the door locked,solemnly touched the brass knob, read the name 'Ed Peck' on the plate,and wiped their feet on a very dirty mat. It was ridiculous, of course;but hero-worship is not the worst of modern follies, and when one's herohas won from the world some of its heartiest smiles and tears, one maybe forgiven for a little sentiment in a dark entry.

  Next they went to the Saracen's Head, where Mr. Squeers stopped when inLondon. The odd old place looked as if it hadn't changed a particle.There was the wooden gallery outside, where the chamber-maids stood tosee the coach off; the archway under which poor Nicholas drove that coldmorning; the office, or bar, where the miserable little boys shiveredwhile they took alternate sips out of one mug, and bolted hunches ofbread and butter as Squeers 'nagged' them in private and talked to themlike a father in public. Livy was tempted to bring away a littleporter-pot hanging outside the door, as a trophy; but fearing Squeers'ssquint eye was upon her, she refrained, and took a muddy pebble instead.

  They took a peep at the Temple and its garden. The fountain was notplaying, but it looked very pleasant, nevertheless; and as they stoodthere the sun came out, as if anxious that they should see it at itsbest. It was all very well to know that
Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night'was played in Middle Temple Hall, that the York and Lancaster roses grewhere, that Dr. Johnson lived No. 1 Inner Temple Lane, and that Goldsmithdied No. 2 Brick Court, Middle Temple; these actual events and peopleseemed far less real than the scenes between Pendennis and Fanny, JohnWestlock and little Ruth Pinch. For their sakes Livy went to see theplace; and for their sakes she still remembers that green spot in theheart of London, with the June sunshine falling on it as it fell thatday.

  The pilgrimage ended with a breathless climb up the Monument, whencethey got a fine view of London, and better still of Todgerses. Livyfound the house by instinct; and saw Cherry Pecksniff, now a sharp-nosedold woman, sitting at the back window. A gaunt, anxious-looking lady, ina massive bonnet, crossed the yard, with a basket in her hand; and theProfessor said at once, 'That's Mrs. Todgers, and the amount of gravysingle gentlemen eat is still weighing heavy on her mind.' As if tomake the thing quite perfect, they discovered fitful glimpses of atousled-looking boy, cleaning knives or boots, in a cellar-kitchen; andall the lawyers in London couldn't have argued them out of their firmbelief that it was young Bailey, undergoing his daily torment in companywith the black beetles and the mouldy bottles.

  That nothing might be wanting to finish off the rainy-day ramble in anappropriate manner, when Livy's companion asked what she'd have forlunch, she boldly replied,--

  'Weal pie and a pot of porter.'

  As she was not fond of either, it was a sure proof of the sincerity ofher regard for the persons who have made them immortal. They went intoan eating-house, and ordered the lunch, finding themselves objects ofinterest to the other guests. But, though a walking doormat in point ofmud, and somewhat flushed and excited by the hustling, climbing, andadoring, it is certain there wasn't a happier spinster in this 'PiljinProjess of a wale,' than the one who partook of 'weal pie' in memory ofSam Weller, and drank 'a modest quencher' to the health of DickSwiveller at the end of that delightful Dickens day.

  Much might be written about the domestic pleasures of English people,but as the compiler of this interesting work believes in the sacrednessof private life, and has a holy horror of the dreadful people whooutrage hospitality by basely reporting all they have seen and heard,she will practise what she preaches, and firmly resist the temptation todescribe the delights of country strolls with poets, cosey five-o'clockteas in famous drawing-rooms, and interviews with persons whose namesare household words.

  This virtuous reticence leaves the best untold, and brings the story oftwo of our travellers to a speedy end. Matilda decided to remain andstudy art, spending her days copying Turner at the National Gallery, andher evenings in the society of the eight agreeable gentlemen who adornedthe house where she abode.

  Amanda hurried home with friends to enjoy a festive summer among theverdant plains of Cape Cod. With deep regret did her mates bid heradieu, and nothing but the certainty of soon embracing her again wouldhave reconciled Livy to the parting; for in Amanda she had found thatrare and precious treasure, a friend.

  'Addio, my beloved Granny; take care of your dear bones and come homesoon,' said Amanda, in the little back entry, while her luggage wasbeing precipitated downstairs.

  'Heaven bless and keep you safe, my own Possum. I shall not stay longbecause I can't possibly get on without you,' moaned Livy, clinging tothe departing treasure as Diogenes might have clung to his honest man,if he ever found him; for, with better luck than the old philosopher,Livy had searched long years for a friend to her mind, and got one atlast.

  'Don't be sentimental, girls' said Matilda, with tears in her eyes, asshe hugged her Mandy, and bore her to the cab.

  'Rome and Raphael for ever!' cried Amanda, as a cheerful parting salute.

  'London and Turner!' shouted Matilda with her answering war-cry.

  'Boston and Emerson!' sobbed Lavinia, true to her idols even in thedeepest woe.

  Then three damp pocket-handkerchiefs waved wildly till the dingy cabwith the dear Egyptian nose at the window, and the little bath-panclattering frantically up aloft, vanished round the corner, leaving avoid behind that all Europe could not fill.

  A few weeks later Livy followed, leaving Mat to enjoy the liberty withwhich American girls may be trusted when they have a purpose or aprofession to keep them steady. And so ended the travels of the trio,travels which had filled a year with valuable experiences, memorabledays, and that culture which a larger knowledge of the world, ourfellow-men, and ourselves gives to the fortunate souls to whom thispleasure is permitted.

  One point was satisfactorily proved by the successful issue of thispartnership; for, in spite of many prophecies to the contrary, threewomen, utterly unlike in every respect, had lived happily together fortwelve long months, had travelled unprotected safely over land and sea,had experienced two revolutions, an earthquake, an eclipse, and a flood,yet met with no loss, no mishap, no quarrel, and no disappointment worthmentioning.

  With this triumphant statement as a moral to our tale, we wouldrespectfully advise all timid sisters now lingering doubtfully on theshore, to strap up their bundles in light marching order, and pushboldly off. They will need no protector but their own courage, no guidebut their own good sense and Yankee wit, and no interpreter, if thatwoman's best gift, the tongue, has a little French polish on it.

  Dear Amandas, Matildas, and Lavinias, why delay? Wait on no man, buttake your little store and invest it in something far better than Parisfinery, Geneva jewellery, or Roman relics. Bring home empty trunks, ifyou will, but heads full of new and larger ideas, hearts richer in thesympathy that makes the whole world kin, hands readier to help on thegreat work God gives humanity, and souls elevated by the wonders of artand the diviner miracles of Nature.

  Leave _ennui_ and discontent, frivolity and feebleness, among the ruinsof the Old World, and bring home to the New the grace, the culture, andthe health which will make American women what now they just fail ofbeing, the bravest, brightest, happiest, and handsomest women in theworld.

  PRINTED BYSPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARELONDON