From America to the Orient ...

Front matter

Chap..„_„..l Oopyridit No.

^ttii- 1

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

Preface

HIS WORK scarcely needs an introduction, i as its various chapters speak for themselves. It is the fourth volume in the series of books of travel, the titles of which are noted upon a preceding page.

The contributors to the volume are not as a rule professional writers, but, perhaps, all the more will it be found that their style has a refreshing directness and individuality not always met with in similar books. The Editor has endeavored to harmonize the different spellings of proper names and places, which, in the East, appear to be based upon no usual rules of orthography, and to this end has generally followed Baedeker in his various well-known guide books, but with a few trifling exceptions.

Of the "Contributors" and ''Fellow-Travelers," Rev. Dr. Kiehle only accompanied the party through Palestine; the Judges Ewing went from Athens to Palestine and Egypt and then left for Constantinople ; Rev. Dr. and Mrs. Kip, returning missionaries from India, were with us in and about Jerusalem, on the excursion to the Dead Sea and the Jordan, and at Beirut and Damascus ; Rev. Dr. Hutton and wife, and Mrs. and Miss Foster, remained nearly three months in Venice and were not with the party in Florence or at the second ii

Ipreface visit to Rome, and Miss Oiler joined us at Alexandria for the Italian and homeward trip.

In summing up our experiences during this three months' journey to Europe and the Orient, there would probably be a consensus of opinion on these points: First, that there are no difficulties of travel in the civilized portions of Greece varying much from those of other European countries. The whole of Greece^ where open for travel, is safe for parties, and the most of it for individuals. Second, the methods of travel in the interior of Palestine are wholly different from those known to tourists in civilized lands. Travelers must go in parties with a sufficient number of honest native attendants, and camp at night under the protection of the sheik or governor of the locality. There is much fatigue and some danger from accidents in making the camping tour from Jerusalem northward; and while the strong and the prudent may undertake this risk, it is not wise for the invalid nor the extremely nervous to do so. Third, Egypt should be visited before the heat of the Spring arrives, and the earlier the better. It is doubtful if any trip up the Nile can be made with comfort after the twentieth day of March. But Palestine, because of "the latter rains" of late March and early April, ought not to be reached until April tenth, at least.

The illustrations are nearly all from photographs taken on the spot by members of the party and are credited under each picture to the "artist."

Summing up, as to cities, we found Jerusalem delightful wholly from its historic associations ; intrinsically, the modern city itself has little to commend it. Damascus is unique and varied, but not so inpreface ill teresting as Cairo. Beirut has the most charming location of any of the places we saw on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean. Cairo was the most captivating city visited. Athens, which was the eye of the world in the days of Pericles and Plato, is still one of the most attractive localities possible to the student. Like Rome, Athens is a constant source of delight. Whoever studies, even for a few days, its matchless Parthenon and Theseum will be thereafter a wiser and ought to be a better and happier being.

Each cooing- dove and sighing bought

That makes the eve so blest to me^ Has something far diviner now,

It bears me back to Galilee.

Where happy birds in song agree.

Through sunny morn the praises tell,

Of sights and sounds in Galilee.

And when I read the thrilling lore

Of Him who walked upon the sea, J long, oh, how 1 lo?ig once more.

To follow Him in Galilee !

Oh, Galilee, siveet Galilee,

Where fesus lov'd so much to be ; Oh, Galilee, blue Galilee,

Come sing thy song again to me.

—H. R. Palmer

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I.— East Bound Toward Italy 9

II.— Beautiful Naples i6

Chapter 1. East Bound Toward Italy

A FOURTEENTH trip over the ocean separating America from Europe might seem to many monotonous. Not so to the lover of the sea. Those of us who had crossed before began a new voyage, this time to the Mediterranean, if not with absolute faith in our seagoing qualities, nevertheless with a certainty of the enjoyment of almost every moment of every hour of every day. To enjoy the best of company and possess the consciousness that the changeful waves are to be again so dark and so bright, so undulating and so peaceful by day and by night for a period of twelve days, is to have rest, recreation, amusement, tonic. Everything behind, save loved ones, forgot- 9 lO jfrom Bmerica to tbe Qvicnt ten ; everything before to be interesting, novel, inspiring; should not this be bliss?

The dear, sweet sea! Always too real to be a dream, too earnest to be wholly an idyl, sure to be for its lovers ''a thing of beauty and a joy forever." Be it in calm or in disquiet, be it just as we would have it or simply as God made it, is it not fuller of splendors than of terrors, of harmonies than of discords, all the day long? Grand, old sea! Before Job was, thou wert tens of thousands of years old; and when all of human kind shall have passed away, thou wilt be as full of glorious wrinkles and of heavenly calms as now. Until the heavens shall be as brass and the. earth as the moon itself, the morning sun shall continue to coronet thy brow and the midnight stars to diadem thy bosom. Splendid gray and blue old sea ! Would that every fair lady, who sighs on the ship over the cup of coffee which will not stay where it. is placed, may become as much a lover of thy deep, wide heart as the one who pens these words.

The *'Ems" was not averse to rolling when diagonal winds or cross currents struck her with some force. But she was a good boat. The dining room was a work of genuine art. The smoking room above it was a little stufTy, but an excellent place for naps. The staterooms were fair; not quite up-to-date, but still not of the ancient type. As our company had brought, oyer seventy volumes of European and Oriental travel to read on the way, we surely could not suffer from intellectual decay, though, if the truth must be confessed, the gentlemen, rather than the ladies, patronized this literature on the way to Naples. The " angels in human dress" were, if not afjSaet :fl3ounD JTowarD Iftal^ n flicted with mal de mer, at least inattentive to the printed page.

The Captain of the ''Ems" was every inch a man; more so than the clergyman whom he requested one day to preach for him and who replied: "Sorry, Captain, but I cannot consent to preach to Hessians. It is pleasant to add that this clergyman went on a previous voyage; he was not of our '99 company.

Usually passengers play many games on shipboard. True, the divinity side, when challenged by the lay side to play shuffleboard, just ''waxed" the challengers, but this was a little by-issue. Games on the whole, especially the out-of-door ones, were rather rare. Naps were preferable for some; for others Geikie, St. Clair, Stanley, Baedeker and Hare. One clerical wag actually made us believe — until he reached Naples and then fell willingly into line beside the native courier — that he had mastered the Italian grammar and language in about four days of casual study. I say casual, because when the Reverend Doctor was not joking about pineapples growing on trees, or taking snapshots with such euphonious and expressive labels as "Some Barbers I Have Known," he was himself telling an unnumbered host of land and sea yarns, which held us aghast at "Some Things Which Might Possibly Have Happened," if we believed everything he reported. When he told us one day, for example, that a severe roll of the ship had tossed an occupant of an upper berth out into the sofa on the opposite side of the stateroom, and that the next roll had placed the victim joyfully back, uninjured, into the upper berth, we marveled, and a few disbdi^vecl And, speaking of dreams, he had the

12 jfrom Bmertca to tbe ©rtent queer fashion, he said, of dreaming about being fastened up within a pyramid, or of seeing two snakes swallowing one another in circles, with the horrible problem ever after confronting him of what eventually became in each case of both those snakes ! And all this while his active mind was conquering "Ahn's Practical Method" of acquiring Italian in four days. Marvels like these do sometimes occur on shipboard and are not alone performed by ocean barbers.

When the ninth sailing day came around it was the Sabbath, ''bright, calm and holy." The thoughtful, original, inspiriting sermon of Rev. Dr. R. on the preceding Sabbath, from Luke 5 14, "Launch forth into the deep," was now followed by a splendid tribute to ''Life," the "Life indeed" (i Tim., 6:12), which Rev. Dr. H. advised his hearers to grasp. Its immensity, its intensity, its perfection, should fill and thrill us on our shorter world-life's pilgrimage. It is a solemn service, always, that one attends on the great deep. The moving sanctuary has not even the stability of the tent in the wilderness. It sways to and fro, while the waves tumble over each other against prow and stern, and the unknown depth like the unknown , height seems to hold the worshipper under the spell of infinity rather than of transient things. The Gospel, happily, fits not only all kinds and conditions of men, but all intellects in all localities. Perhaps ten miles of green and gray water was below us, and nothing above or around us save the overarching sky and the voiceless horizon, yet every human heart on the "Ems" those Sabbath mornings could have felt, should have felt, the touch of every kindred heart at home in America, and also the indwelling spirit of God, as much so as if all were

East :fi3ounD n^owar^ ITtali^ 13 in one sanctuary somewhere near the Atlantic coast, worshipping Him who made all the earth. There may not have been in the responsiveness to the heavenly touch quite the sweetness and calm of the more memorable days later in ''holy Galilee," but the right chord played upon by the Master hand on sea or on land never gives to the true soul a discordant note.

The Azores were unexpected in effects of hillheights and cheerful homes. If they looked bleak, we remembered that the frost-chills of winter had not altogether released their fingers from these rocky cliffs and semi-cultivated fields. It is the unlookedfor which sometimes most delights. We looked for rocks and sand ; we saw mountains and fertile soil. We expected fishing hamlets and villages of dark colored huts ; we discovered busy cities, of stable structures, strongly built, white as the snow and with all vestiges of uncivilization brushed away. Ponte Delgade, and other cities of San Miguel stand out in memory to-day as delightful pictures in charming settings, to see which once is to remember them long and to remember them often.

And Gibraltar, the rock fortress ; the approach to it between the Pillars of Hercules, with Europe on the one hand, Africa on the other, each near enough to shake hands together at the mere distance of a cannon ball ; Tangiers in Morocco over to the right, the Sierra Nevada range of mountains in Andalusia to the left ; the compact city of Gibraltar at the feet of those English guns ; the yacht of Queen Victoria and both battleships and traders in the forefront of water; the donkeys of burden and their Castilian drivers and riders; the tawny Spaniards and the black-haired, ring-eared Moors; the linen-coated

14 Jfrom amedca to tbe ^vicnt and linen-trousered British warriors and the unkempt, funereal-gowned soldiers of Alphonso; the bright flowers, parks of palm and banana and alder ; the narrow streets; the terraced battlements, port holes in the pierced rocks, and Moorish castle — ^how these and other specific scenes of the three hours spent there stand out in memory as a kaleidoscopic picture of a bit of new and queer world ! Whether Mark Twain's ''Ferguson" was the same as the guide who told us ''he was he" or not; whether Rev. Dr. R.'s snapshot at the sea gull was a successful or an ill one ; whether a half-sovereign was paid out by an esteemed member of our party for a half-crown, or otherwise; whether we believed or disbelieved the story that the Spanish soldiers only received three ha' pennies a day for their services to their country, while British soldiers were rewarded by a shilling a day — all the same and nevertheless we had a new spirit of daring, a new bond of enjoyment, to talk over when we went again on shipboard and were turned prowward to Naples and the blue Mediterranean Sea.

Of course some of the substantial and a few of the dainties of a semi-southern clime came on board the vessel at Gibraltar and so we had white fish, lobsters and strawberries, and the Captain presented each lady with a bunch of blue violets and his card. When the "Ems" comes to be sold, as it is likely to b^ at any time, and when Captain Harrassowitz is. if not advanced, "relegated" (he will certainly not consider it a promotion) to the China trade, hosts of his passenger-friends will deeply regret it.

There were two successive sunsets of real beauty, both upon the Mediterranean, in this voyage to Naples; none upon the Atlantic, and, probably, no visible sunrise. The Dean's anxiety to capture a first-class sunrise was too great; Nature would not accord him the favor.

And now the voyage was about to end. It had seemed so much of a pleasure to the most of us that the only natural thing would be for it to continue forever. Could it be that the twelfth day of constant morning greetings at the breakfast table and of the long discussions over scientific, philosophical, socia! and religious problems at the table d'hote of one and one-half hours were to cease? Were the subjects of 'The Man who had lost his Baggage," or of ''The Woman who wanted to go Home," or of the "Golden Days of Pericles," and "The Relative Merits of Leonidas and of the Caesars," ever to have an end? Did we desire them to end? Yes, buried Pompeii and the active Neapolitans, Roman colosseums and Delphic oracles, Vocal Memnons and "sweet, sweet Galilee" were all ahead, and beside them sea and sunset for the time paled, and we really longed to reach the desired haven. And it was with eagerness to land that we steamed on a Thursday morning at daybreak into Naples, and, under the very eye of smoking Vesuvius, the hills of Posilippo and St. Elmo and the islands of Capri and Ischia, we halted awhile to drink in some of the beauties of the land of Virgil and of Horace, of Pliny and of Tasso.

Chapter II. Beautiful Naples

IN THE dreamy leisure of the steamer chair, fancy laid hold upon the pleasures that were before us, and we pictured to ourselves the scenes that would meet our eyes when the pitching and the rolling should have ceased and we should again have placed our feet upon ''Mother Earth." In our imaginings Naples played a small part. Indeed, I am afraid we considered it scarcely worthy of a visit, but looked upon it only as a portal to more glorious and beautiful things in nature, history and art. But after a few days' sojourn, we found that Italy's most populous city contains much of interest.

The site of Naples is the most picturesque in Europe" It commands a fine view of the sea. The sun sparkling upon its deep blue waters, which are dotted with occasional sails and canopied with the clear, blue Italian sky, presents a scene that is not soon forgotten. On the east, Vesuvius towers up some thousands of feet, crowned by its living furnace, a perpetual reminder of the havoc and desolation which it is capable of creating. The fertility of the soil i6 aseautlful Maplea clothes the surrounding hills with the orange and the vine, the almond and the fig, whose varied foliage forms a rich background to the brightly painted houses with their flat roofs and neat balconies ornamented with flower gardens. And the environs are especially attractive. There are beautiful drives, which modern luxury has lined with magnificent villas, many of them on the sites which in Virgil's time were occupied by the residences of the wealthy patricians.

Naples has mild winters, and the summer heat is so agreeably tempered by the sea breezes that the inhabitants, especially the lower classes, practically live out of doors. Thus their domestic as well as their business life may be readily observed. The family washing is done on the sidewalk. The cobbler has his bench outside his door. Even the brazier has his place at the curbstone, and the meals for the household are prepared in the open court. Grandmother draws her stool to the threshold, where she busily plies her knitting needles. Here also the week's mending is done, and the garments prepared for those festive occasions which are so numerous and so delightful to the Neapolitan. Refreshment stands are placed on the sidewalks, and these are so well patronized that one oftentimes must step into the street in order to go by, and considers himself fortunate to regain the walk without accident from the very rapid driving practiced by the Neapolitan cabmen. To add to the busy life the huckster peddles his wares, and his harsh shouting denies the statement that ''the Italian language is recognized as the most harmonious in the world." Morning and evening the tinkling of the cow bell is heard, and uni8 jfrom Bmerfca to tbe ©dent adulterated milk is distributed at the very door. To the stranger the bane of Neapolitan street life is the vender of trinkets and the beggar whose persistencyis unequaled.

The Museum is undoubtedly the most interesting place in Naples. The famous collections it contains afford fine opportunity for the study of Greek and Roman art. The paintings teach us much of the life and habits of the citizens. In fact by a visit to the Museum we may repeople the fated cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. The household utensils, writing materials, surgical and musical instruments, jewelry and coins, even articles of food used by the Pompeiians are here exhibited in a fairly good state of preservation. But the many wonderful things in this Museum defy description, and must be seen to be appreciated.

Much more might be told of this busy city, including the Tomb of Virgil and the surroundings of Sorrento and Capri, and, did it boast a Trevi, I would throw in my coin and drink of its clear waters. But it has been but a threshold, and we must hie off to see Pompeii and then equally marvelous Rome.

H. D. H.

Chapter III. Pompeii And Vesuvius

HE CITY of the Dead! The City of the Dead!"

1 was the significant and only comment made by Sir Walter Scott, when, in profound thought and meditation, he walked through the silent and unpeopled streets of unearthed Pompeii.

And this sentiment of awe and reverence is shared in some degree by all visitors. It is difficult, almost impossible, to repress it. And the sentiment widens and deepens as, in our imagination, we restore the dwellings, the shops, the temples, the theatres to their former condition, and reanimate the people who thronged its streets and participated in its amusements, on that eventful day in the year A. D. 79.

The stones in the street pavement are just as they were two thousand years ago; and the deep ruts in them make it easy to picture the coming of a gorgeously painted chariot, drawn by spirited horses and rapidly driven by a haughty Roman, whose proud figure and jeweled garments betoken his wealth and position. Passing the wine shops, with their marble counters still intact, it is not difficult to repeople them with those who in laughter and song there whiled away hours of idleness. Coming to the public fountains at the street corners jfrom amedca to tbe ©dent we can easily picture the natives stooping to drink water from the spout, for the deep indentations worn into the marble show where, for many generations, they rested their hands to balance the body as they leaned forward. Entering the house of the Tragic Poet, or of Pansa (an excellent reproduction of which can be found in Saratoga), or of Diomede, or of Sallust, we can bring to mind the master of the house transacting business in the front rooms ; or, by passing through the peristyle into the dining room with its atmosphere cooled by the spray of gushing fountains and fragrant with the perfume of flowers, we may see the table supplied with the choicest viands and delicacies, and the reclining figures of hilarious diners, who believed in interpreting the conspicuous presence of a skull not as a warning to prepare for death, but as a reminder that life is short and that they must extract all possible pleasure while they can.

Leaving the dwellings and entering the marketplace we can imagine the stalls again filled with the fruits, the vegetables and provisions of the times ; and also picture the women, clad in their Grecian gowns of gay colors, whose thin, loose drapery gave such picturesque outline to the natural form, bargaining with the same vivacity which marks the Italian women of to-day. Looking into the bakeshop we may reanimate the very baker who baked that celebrated loaf of bread, stamped with his trademark, but which, instead of nourishing the people of his time, has been singularly preserved for the curious gaze of people of countless generations. Entering the open Forum we may almost hear the voice of the candidate for ofifice as he appeals for votes in

Ipompeii ant) IDeeuviue 21 the coming election. Passing on we can imagine votive offerings to be made in the graceful white marble temples of Apollo, of Jupiter, of Fortune, and in that mysterious temple of Isis, whose oracle made the worshipers hopeful or despairing, according to the whim of the priest, who, by means of a concealed speaking tube, transmitted his voice; to the mouth of the stone figure. Entering the elaborate baths we can again picture the luxurious Pompeiians enjoying all the exhilarating details of bathing, massaging and anointing; or idling their time in chatting over the current events of the day. Passing near the quarters of the gladiators and the streets they frequented, we can almost overhear their coarse jests, and their outbursts of loud laughter while pursuing those voluptuous pleasures of which such curious relics have been bequeathed to the student of history. Or in visiting the open theatre, we can picture an audience of five thousand Pompeiians shouting their approbation or condemnation of the performance of the actors. Or, looking into the bay, which at that time washed the very portals of the city, we can picture it dotted with the boats of those who, under the blue canopy of an Italian sky, were serenely sailing over the most beautiful bay in the world.

Having, in our imagination, thus restored the brightly stuccoed dwellings, the white marble temples, and the classical statues to their former picturesque beauty; and having seen the people engaged in their ordinary pursuits of business, of social affairs and of pleasures, we must complete the eventful picture by feeling a sudden quivering of the ground — by hearing a deep, hoarse rumbling like that of distant cannonading; and by seeing from the

22 jFrom Bmcrlca to tbc ©dent green-topped summit of Mount Vesuvius a huge pillar of smoke and ashes, which rose higher, higher, higher; and broader, broader, broader until it spread as far away as Africa, as Egypt, as Syria, and changed the blue Italian sky first into a dull gray and finally into a deep black; and then dimmed the bright rays of the sun, then changed its face into a dull reddish disc, then obscured it altogether, until the blackness of night and death fell like a funeral pall upon the scene below !

What actually occurred at the time of the dreadful catastrophe seems almost incredible, but according to the testimony of reliable eye witnesses, such as Pliny (who succeeded in escaping from the city, but whose uncle lost his life at Stabise while watching the eruption), fine ashes first fell, which became thicker and denser, until they penetrated the houses, vitiated the atmosphere, piled up deeper and deeper in the streets, like the snow during our blizzard of last February, until they reached a depth of three feet. People in the houses sought the streets ; those in the streets sought the houses. The main thoroughfares became crowded with people — some eager to reach the seashore, others eager to leave the shore and seek refuge in the city. Parents became separated from their children; wives from their husbands, and in the dense darkness could only hope to be reunited by the sound of the voice, which was almost undisj;inguishable amid the lamentations of the women, the cries of the children, the shrieks of those being trampled and crushed, and the weird, dismal shouts of some Galileans that ''Babylon is fallen! Babylon is fallen!"

At th^ same time the sea became convulsed with

Pompeii an& Desuviue violent agitation, threatening to engulf tlfose who ventured upon its surface. And then Vesuvius suddenly gushed forth a great pillar of fire which covered the city with a shower of red-hot pumice stone to a depth of seven or eight feet; then belched out another shoAver of ashes, and then a second shower of pumice, until the entire city was covered to a depth of about twenty feet, under which the unexcavated portions of the city still lie buried.

With this tragic picture fresh in mind, it is but natural that I should have experienced a sentiment of profound pathos as I trod the pavements and streets, which to-day are the same as they were on the day of the eruption ; and as I gazed upon the frescoed walls of the dwellings, entered the shops, visited the temples and inspected the baths and theatres.

From the discoveries and researches which have been made, it would seem that during the three days of the eruption probably two thousand Pompeiians perished. In one large underground room were found the bodies of eighteen people, who probably selected that place as a safe refuge, but who were stifled with the fine ashes or the gases. The fact that Pompeii was known to have been a wealthy and luxurious city, while, on the other hand, the jewels and gold which have been unearthed in modern times were comparatively meagre, warrants the belief that shortly after the eruption numerous excavations were made to recover jewels and other valuables; and for several centuries the ruins were probably repeatedly ransacked for the marbles, statues and precious stones used in the embellishment of the temple and other buildings. After that period, however, the city

JFrom Bmerlca to tbe ©dent seems^to have been entirely forgotten for about fourteen centuries, when, in 1748, the discovery of some statues attracted the attention of Charles III., who caused excavations to be made. For a century the work went on with more or less irregularity, but since i860 a systematic plan has been adopted which, if carried out during the next fifty years and with an expenditure of about one million dollars, will probably result in laying bare to the public gaze all that remains of this wonderfully preserved and interesting "City of the Dead."

An appropriate companion visit to Pompeii is the ascent of Mount Vesuvius. Leaving Naples by carriage, and driving through the old district of the city, where the proverbial characteristics of the Neapolitan poor can be seen to advantage, we begin a gradual ascent through fertile field and productive vineyards. On the road we are met by troops of Neapolitan youngsters whose manual training seems to have been limited to learning the song of "Bakshish! Bakshish!"

I know how aggravating this cry is to many travelers, and how it is deplored in guide books, but, as the custom has become almost universal in European and Asiatic countries and, therefore, must be endured, I am inclined to believe that it may be converted into a source of entertainment instead of proving a nervous irritant. Probably only a very small proportion of those who ask for *'bakshish" expect to get it, for it may be received only once in response to several hundred appeals, and the equanimity of the pleader is not often disturbed when the coin fa?ls to materialize. In response to such appeals I have frequently extended my own hand and jestingly

ROME— INTERIOR OF ARCH OF TITUS.

View of inside of Arch, showing- the Triumphal Procession of the Roman Legions into Rome, bearing- with them the Golden Candle stick taKen from the Temple at Jerusalem.

Ipompcfi auD IDeauviua 25 asked them for "bahskish," and this almost invariably excited among the children the greatest glee and good humor. And many of the Italian babies with their romid, chubby faces, black hair, and large, appealing eyes, are too picturesque to treat harshly or with disdain, even though they are taught to clamor for "bakshish." And some of them are so bright and attractive that the question spontaneously arises: Is it not, after all, the mere place of birth and social environment (for which the individual is wholly responsible) which gravitates the prattling infant into a future flowerseller of Naples, a Bedouin daughter of the desert, or a belle of Fifth Avenue, or Rittenhouse Square? Do not the differences lie mainly in the exterior? May not the motives and inherent character be the same, regardless of position or external appearances? And this fellow-feeling for humanity engenders a kindlier feeling and a keener interest in those who cry for ''bakshish," and suggests the thought that this form of appeal may be but the natuiial growth of those pitiable conditions which betoken a bitter struggle for mere existence; a struggle which is significantly indicated by the clothes of these Neapolitan children, not one suit of which appears to have been made or purchased for the boy or girl wearing it, but seeming, rather, a legacy from parent or grandparent, and but slightly modified to meet the wants of the wearer.