hue than the Mediterranean blue, it seemed to our travelers. But with a
sailor's joy in rope, pitch, and tar, Cooper hurried with his usual
boyish eagerness to the port, and with a lively interest examined its
several rusty-looking craft. The next day found them again on the way,
of which he writes: "Walking ahead of the carriage this morning, we
amused ourselves on the beach, the children gathering shells on the
shores of the Adriatic." Short stops were made in Bologna and Ferrara,
then northward to the coast. Afloat and a pull for an hour brought them
to Venice. Through the Grand Canal and under the Rialto they glided to
the opening port beyond. They left their craft at the _Leone Bianco_, or
white lion. Entering, they found "a large paved hall" a few steps above
the water. From their windows they could see the gliding gondolas;
beyond the splashing of an oar no sound came from their movement.
"Everything was strange," wrote Cooper. "Though a sailor and accustomed
to water, I had never seen a city a-float. It was now evening; but a
fine moon shedding its light on the scene rendered it fairy-like." That
night a friend showed him the other ways than the water-ways of Venice.
Through lane-like, shop-lined ways, over bridges, and through the
Giant's Clock-tower he passed into the great square of St. Mark, with
"much surprise and pleasure." By its glittering lamps, and over it all
the moonlight, he felt as if "transported to a scene in the Arabian
Nights."
[Illustration: SCALLA MINELLA, VENICE.]
[Illustration: VENICE.]
Later he writes: "I have set up my own gondola and we have been looking
at the sights." For weeks their easy gondola--which in form and
lightness reminded him so much of the Indian bark-canoe--"went gliding
along the noiseless canals," and Cooper studied his Venice for a
purpose. He became interested in the details of its singular government
and read many books about it. The heartless trifling with sacred
personal rights in order to glorify the ruling powers of _San Marco_, as
shown by the life of crime in its secret councils, seemed terrible to
him. And so came about the thought of writing a book in which both views
of the subject, as clear and just as his pen could draw them, should be
given. And whoever has read "The Bravo" will know that it faithfully
pictures Venetian life. The great Piazza, the splendid church, the
towering belfry,--rebuilt,--the small Piazza and its columns; the Palace
of the Doge, with its court, well, giant's stairway, lions' mouths,
dungeons and roof prisons, and the Bridge-of-Sighs, leading to its
neighbor, the Prison Building--all are here, with beautiful _Venetia_
in the pride of her most glorious days near their waning. These and much
more make up the fearful picture of Venice's cold cruelty, as revealed
to the author of "The Bravo" in authentic historical records. Gelsomina,
the jailer's daughter, a sweet and delicately-drawn character, got her
name and general character from real life. Miss Cooper writes that when
their "family was living on the cliffs of Sorrento a young peasant girl
became one of the household,--half nurse, half playfellow to the
children. She bore the sweet name of Gelsomina. Simple, innocent, and
childlike, yet faithful to duty, Gelsomina was soon in high favor with
great and small, and, in charge of the young flock, made one of every
family party about the bay." At such times "she was always in gay
costume,--light-blue silk jacket with gold lace; a flowing skirt; her
dark hair well garnished with long golden pins and bodkins; a gold chain
of manifold strands encircled her throat, and drops long and heavy hung
from her ears. One afternoon, after playing with her young charges,
Gelsomina went for water to that picturesque marble well in the court.
While bending over the curbstone and drawing up the bucket, like
Zara-of-Moriah fame, she dropped one of her long, heavy ear-rings into
the water. Great was the lamentation of the simple creature! Warm was
the sympathy of the household." But the old well was far too deep to
give up this heirloom and family treasure, which was gone beyond
Gelsomina's tears to recover. Gelsomina would have followed her American
friends north, but a portly, stately, dignified aunt "would not trust
her so far from the orange-groves of Sorrento." When the hour of parting
came, pretty Gelsomina received from her mistress a fine pair of new
ear-rings, and tears of gratitude fell upon the trinkets as she kissed
the hand of the giver. Her name and something of her sweet innocence and
fidelity were given to the jailer's daughter of "The Bravo."
"The well is deep--far down they lie,
beneath the cold, blue water!
My ear-rings! my ear-rings!"
[Illustration: PIAZZA SAN MARCO.]
[Illustration: PALACE OF THE DOGE.]
[Illustration: TASSO'S WELL.]
This book, one of Cooper's favorite works, was an artist's picture of
Venice, and was written to martial music in Paris, in 1830, where Cooper
arrived on the eve of a revolution, for a stay of three years. It was
published by Lea and Carey, Philadelphia, in 1834, and did not find
favor in America, but was much liked in Germany and France. Prof.
Brander Matthews writes:--"The scene in which Antonio, the old
fisherman, is shrived by the Carmelite monk, in his boat, under the
midnight moon upon the lagoon, is one of the finest in the whole range
of literature in fiction."
[Illustration: THE BRAVO.]
Concerning the carrying off of the art treasures of Venice by the
French, Cooper wrote: "One great picture escaped them; it stood in a
dark chapel completely covered with dust and smoke. Within a few years
some artist had the curiosity to examine this then unknown altarpiece.
The picture was taken down, and being thoroughly cleaned, proved to be
'The Assumption'"--Titian's masterpiece, some think. It is now in the
Academy of Fine Arts in Venice. Cooper tells of a monument Canova had
"designed for Titian, beautifully chiseled out of spotless marble." The
author found it "beneath the gloomy arches of the church," and thought
it "singularly dramatic and startling"; but it had been erected to the
honor of Canova himself instead of to the painter!
[Illustration: GLORY OF THE ASSUMPTION.]
[Illustration: ABSOLUTION OF ANTONIO.]
[Illustration: ALT MARKET, DRESDEN.]
From Venice Cooper and family went by way of Tyrol to Munich, where he
much admired the king of Bavaria's art collections. After this brief
visit they moved on to Dresden, passing here some pleasant months in a
cheerful apartment overlooking the Alt Market. The quaint and busy show
of homely German life, the town, gardens, river, bridge, and fine
gallery "worthy of Italy," were enjoyed. _The Water Witch_, "wrecked on
the Tiber, was now safely launched on the broader waters of the Elbe."
It was issued by Lea and Carey, Philadelphia, in 1830.
Comparing national traits became at times an unfortunate habit with
Cooper. He was provoked by a Dresden schoolmaster's surprise that his
children were not black; and, again, because he could not convince an
English scholar that in Boston "to gouge" did not mean the cruel
practice "to squeeze out a man's eyes with the thumb." This English
scholar was Sir James Mackintosh.
On the return to Paris from Germany several places were tried before
finding a short distance across the Seine, No. 59 rue St. Dominique,--an
off-and-on home for three years. Here the salon was thirty feet long and
lofty--to a sailor's delight, seventeen feet; above the doors were
paintings in gilded frames; and there were four large mirrors, and vast
windows reaching to the floor. The dining-room, even larger, opened on
the garden. After this manner the doctor of the Duke of Orleans built
his home for himself--and this American tenant. The turmoil in this
city of light at once attracted him in the near view of the Revolution
of July. Having known General Lafayette since 1824, these two fine men
were brought in close touch on Cooper's second visit to Paris. In 1831
the Marquis Lafayette was the center of American life here, and
consequently he and our author were constantly and intimately thrown
together.
[Illustration: LAFAYETTE'S PARIS HOME, RUE D'ANJOU.]
Lafayette's neat, simple apartment in a hotel of some pretension was in
the rue d'Anjou. There were a large antechamber, two salons, and an
inner room, where he wrote, and finally had his bed. His town servants
were his German valet, Bastien, who served during the last visit to
America, a footman, and a coachman. Cooper wrote: "When I show myself at
the door Bastien makes a signal of assent, intimates that the general
is at dinner; but I am at once ushered into the bed-room. Here I find
Lafayette at table--so small as to be covered with a napkin, his little
white dog his only companion." It was understood that the guest had
dined, so he takes a seat in the chimney-corner, and as they talk the
dinner goes on to its finish of dates, which are shared by the visitor.
The last of these pleasant visits grew from the usual half hour to
almost two, as they chatted of the great and small and all in their fine
way. Lafayette thought Louis Philippe "the falsest man" he ever met. Of
Charles X he "spoke kindly," giving him "an exactly opposite character,"
and Marie Antoinette he believed "an injured woman."
[Illustration: GENERAL LAFAYETTE'S BED-ROOM.]
[Illustration: LOUIS PHILIPPE.]
[Illustration: GENERAL LAFAYETTE.]
When Mr. McLane, our minister to England, made a flight to Paris in
1830, Lafayette strongly urged Cooper to give him the pleasure of
presenting him with Mr. McLane to Louis Philippe at a Palais Royal
"evening." Concerning the event Cooper noted: "Though such a visit was
contrary to my quiet habits, I could do nothing but comply." His book on
France relates the event and concludes with: "We all got invitations to
dine at the palace in a day or two." But Cooper "never had any faith in
the republican king," and thought "General Lafayette had been the dupe
of his own good faith and kind feelings." Queen Marie Amélie, who was
the daughter of Ferdinand I of the two Sicilies, asked Cooper which he
most preferred of all the lands he had visited. His quick and strictly
truthful reply was: "That in which your majesty was born for its nature,
and that in which your majesty reigns for its society." As the "evening"
was for men Cooper noticed that "the queen and her ladies wore
bonnets."
[Illustration: QUEEN MARIE AMÉLIE.]
December 8, 1830 the Americans in Paris gave General Lafayette a dinner
over which Cooper presided. And, says Professor Lounsbury, "in a speech
of marked fervor and ability, he had dwelt upon the debt due from the
United States to the gallant Frenchman, who had ventured fortune and
life to aid a nation struggling against great odds to be free." As "It
was not in his [Cooper's] nature to have his deeds give lie to his
words," he was fairly caught in a public controversy that brought upon
him the following unpleasant results.
During this period a public dispute arose on the comparative expenses of
American and French government, which Lafayette was called upon to
settle, and he appealed to Cooper as an American authority. In his
spirited defense of the gallant Marquis, our author was caught in a
maelstrom of harsh criticism. It ended in his victory abroad, but
brought upon him uncalled-for comment from the American press for
"attacking the authorities of a friendly country"--as that press
unjustly termed it.
At Paris in 1831, by the request of an English friend, Cooper wrote of
"The Great Eclipse" which he saw June 16, 1806, at his Cooperstown home.
This account was found after his death and appeared in _Putnam's
Magazine_ of 1869. It included a thrilling tragedy and closed as
follows: "I have passed a varied and eventful life--but never have I
beheld any spectacle which so plainly manifested the majesty of the
Creator, or so forcibly taught the lesson of humility to man as the
total eclipse of the sun."
From Paris, in 1832, Cooper wrote: "I care nothing for criticism, but I
am not indifferent to slander. If these attacks on my character should
be kept up five years after my return to America, I shall resort to the
New York courts for protection." Cooper gave the press the full period,
then, said Bryant,--himself an editor,--"he put a hook in the nose of
this huge monster of the inky pool, dragged him to land, and made him
tractable." After these five years had passed Cooper noted, February,
1843: "I have, beaten every man I have sued who has not retracted his
libels."
[Illustration: N.P. WILLIS.]
In Paris, in 1832, our author was meeting many foreigners of note, and
among the Americans was N.P. Willis, then sketching his "Pencillings by
the Way," and breakfasting with Cooper, and strolling with him through
the Tuileries gardens.
[Illustration: S.F.B. MORSE.]
Samuel F.B. Morse, who was later to chain electricity for future use,
was then a young artist painting in the Louvre, and helping Cooper to
buy pictures. Of one purchase is noted: "Shortly after the revolution
of 1830, passing through the Carousel, he bought a portrait, covered
with dust but of apparent rare beauty, from a dealer in antiques, who
said it was a Teniers. This painting was shown to Morse and to
Archbishop Luscomb of Paris, also an art critic of his day, both of whom
verified the dealer's statement. Catalogues and prints of originals of
Tenier's wife later proved the picture to be her portrait painted round
in form by that artist and afterwards cut to the square."
[Illustration: TUILERIES GARDENS.]
[Illustration: TENIER'S WIFE.]
Some twenty years later Morse wrote: "We were in daily, almost hourly,
intercourse during the years 1832-33. I never met a more sincere,
warm-hearted, constant friend." Their relations were ever warm and
close. Cooper himself was winning, in the heart of France, a welcome for
"the beloved _Bas-de-cuir_ with _la longe carabine,_--that magic rifle
of his that so seldom missed its mark and never got out of repair."
Surely his life and pursuits conformed to his motto: "Loyalty to truth
at any price." Those who best knew him best loved him. The charm of his
family life during these pleasant days has found attractive expression
in the portraits of his children drawn about this time by his daughter
Susan, as shown on the opposite page.
[Illustration: MRS. JAMES FENIMORE COOPER AND HER SON PAUL.]
[Illustration: THE CHILDREN OF MR. AND MRS. JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.]
During the dreadful siege of cholera in Paris, Cooper and his family
remained in the stricken city, fearing to fare worse with country
discomforts. In contrast to many instances of heroic devotion were
artists' funny pictures of the scourge. The Tuileries gardens were
deserted, and Paul missed his apple-women friends of the corners between
rue St. Dominique and Pont Royal; and the flight through the city of Mr.
Van Buren and other friends were a few personal incidents of this
awesome time.
July 18 Cooper and his family left Paris for the Rhine country. They
enjoyed Brussels, and old Antwerp's Dutch art and its beautiful
cathedral-tower that Napoleon thought should be kept under glass. They
found Liège "alive with people" to greet their arrival at the _Golden
Sun_, where they were mistaken for the expected and almost new king,
Leopold, and his fine-looking brother. Sad truth brought cold looks and
back views among other shadows of neglect. Cooper noted: The "_Golden
Sun_ veiled its face from us; we quit the great square to seek more
humble lodgings at the _Black Eagle_, a clean, good house." In Liège
were seen the venerable, interesting churches, which caused Cooper to
think, "I sometimes wish I had been educated a Catholic in order to
unite the poetry of religion with its higher principles." He called _The
Angelus_ "the open prayer of the fields," and wrote of it: "I remember
with pleasure the effect produced by the bell of the village church as
it sent its warning voice on such occasions across the plains and over
the hills, while we were dwellers in French or Italian hamlets."
[Illustration: THE ANGELUS.]
In the "Life of Samuel F.B. Morse" by Samuel Irenaeus Prime appears
Cooper's letter from "Spa, July 31, 1832," to
My Dear Morse: I have had a great compliment paid me, Master
Samuel,--You must know there is a great painter in Bruxelles of the
name of Verboeckhoven, (which means a _bull and a book baked in an
oven!_) who is another Paul Potter. He out does all other men in
drawing cattle,--Well, sir, this artist did me the favor to call at
Bruxelles with the request that I would let him sketch my face. He
came after the horses were ordered, and knowing the difficulty of
the task, I thanked him, but was compelled to refuse. On our
arrival at Liège, we were told that a messenger from the governor
had been to inquire for us, and I began to bethink me of my
sins,--however,--it proved Mr. Bull-and-book-baked had come [by
dilligence] to Liège (sixty-three miles) and got the governor to
give him notice, by means of my passport, when we came. Of course I
sat,--the likeness--like all other pictures you have seen of my
chameleon face--has a vastly live-like look,--the compliment is
none the less, and, provided the artist does not mean to serve me
up as a specimen of American wild beasts, I shall thank him for it.
To be followed twelve posts by a first-rate artist, who is in favor
with the King, is so unusual, that I probed him a little. I found
him well skilled in his art,--his gusto for natural subjects,
strong,--and his favorite among all my books is "The Prairie,"
which you know is filled with wild beasts. Here the secret is
out.--He sent me a beautiful pencil sketch of a Belgian hind as a
memorial of our achievement.
[Illustration: EUGÈNE-JOSEPH VERBOECKHOVEN.]
Cooper and his family spent some days drinking the waters at Spa, with
best effects for Mrs. Cooper--not over-strong since the Paris days. They
left its grass of "ghostly green" when the "dog-star raged with all its
fury," and "came on old Aix-la-Chapelle, well-cloaked and carriage
windows closed." In compliment to the republic of letters the postman
called on Cooper here, and like tribute was also paid two posts farther
on, where he was asked if he "was the man who wrote books!" That day was
well spent when they reached the terrace above the Rhine and got their
first view of the towers of Cologne. In "fine, lofty rooms" overlooking
a garden, they here enjoyed a night's rest, a breakfast, and then a
pilgrimage to "the unfinished cathedral, that wonder of Gothic
architecture." A visit was paid to the house in which Rubens was born,
it is said, and the very room which sheltered the last moments of Mary
of Medicis, wife of Henry IV and mother of Louis XIII of France. Cooper
thought it "a better sort of burgher home," and saw it as "a public
house."
[Illustration: RUBENS' COLOGNE HOME.]
Again on the wing, they passed the student-town of Bonn, Rhine ruins of
charming legend on the near and far banks of the river, until on an
island in the Rhine they found rest and refreshment at a convent-inn.
The host, wife, child, cook, and soldiers three, quartered there, gave
them welcome and good cheer. Their parlor was that of the lady abbess,
and her bedchamber fell to Mrs. Cooper. "The girls were put into cells,
where girls ought never to be put," wrote their father. _He_ "sallied
forth alone, in quest of sensation," and got it in the muttering of
thunder, and the flashing of lightning over the "pitchy darkness of the
seven mountains." And he and the fiercely howling winds from the trees
had a chase through the gloomy cloisters, whence he saw, in the vast,
cavern-like kitchen, the honest islanders eating with relish his surplus
supper.
[Illustration: CONVENT OF NUNNENWORTH.]
As the storm grew in strength Cooper went to the corridor above, leading
past their rooms To-and-fro he paced until a bright flash revealed the
far, end door to which he went, opened, and entered into utter darkness.
Taking a few steps he paused--"for the whole seemed filled by a clatter,
as of ten thousand bat-wings against glass." His hand rested on
something--he knew not what--when by another vivid flash he saw that he
was in an open gallery of the convent chapel. The bat-wings were small,
broken panes of the high arched windows, rattling in the gale. Yet by
the chasing flashes of angry light he saw beneath him grim figures in
the shadowy motions of troubled spirits. They wore upon his nerves,
until he caught himself shouting: "'Ship ahoy; ship ahoy! What cheer,
what cheer?' in a voice as loud as the winds." He was about to speak
when his gallery door opened and the withered face of an old crone
appeared by a flash; then came thunder, and the face vanished. After a
pause the door opened again, and on the same uncomely face, when,
without thought, our author gave a loud, deep groan. The door slammed on
the time-stricken form, and he was again alone with the storm-demons who
now soon grew drowsy and went to sleep, and he himself went to
bed,--and, wrote he, "slept like a postillion in a cock-loft, or a
midshipman in the middle-watch." But regret came in the morning when
Mrs. Cooper told her husband how a poor old soul, frightened by the
storm, had stolen into the chapel to pray, where, on hearing strange
groans, she dropped her candle and fled in fear to Madam's maid, who
gave her bed-shelter for the night. An after-breakfast look at the
storm-ridden chapel disclosed other good reasons than the groans for the
poor creature's flight. A peace offering made sweet her next night's
sleep, when the travelers had gone on their way, diving here and there
into lore and legend of the mighty Rhine-stream.
[Illustration: WATCH TOWER ON THE RHINE.]
Near the Prussian frontier was "a castle that stood beetling on a crag
above the road," where smoke actually arose from a beacon-grate that
thrust itself out "from a far-front tower." Such attractions were not
to be passed, and up the winding way over two hundred feet they went,
and over the small drawbridge, guarded by one groom and the Dutch growl
of a ferocious mastiff. In walls, towers, queer gap terraces,--giving
lovely glimpses of the Rhine,--court, outside stairways of iron, fine
old Knights' Hall--its huge fire-place, and its center droplights of
lamps fitted into buckhorns--and curious armor, Cooper found additional
material for his prolific pen.
During the year 1832 Cooper gave "The Heidenmauer, a Rhine Legend," to
the world. While the book itself is full of mediaeval, Rhine-country
charm, of brilliant charge and countercharge, of church and state power,
unfortunately for its author in its "Introduction" was this sentence:
"Each hour, as life advances, am I made to see how capricious and vulgar
is the immortality conferred by a newspaper." This brought upon its
writer a whirlwind of caustic criticism in the American papers, and soon
became a challenge of battle by one who was to prove himself brave,
able, fearless, and _right_ through coming years of hot and bitter
strife. By one of the leading editors the glove was taken up in these
words: "The press has built him up; the press shall pull him down."
Posterity has forgotten the stirring conflict, but Cooper's books will
never fail to fire the heart and brain of every mother's son for all
time.
In a skiff, spreading a sprit sail, they crossed the Rhine at Bingen by
that postmaster's assurance of "Certainly, as good a ferry as there is
in Germany.--_Ja_--_Ja_--we do it often." Through the Duchy of Nassau
they tested its wines from Johannesberg to Wiesbaden. Then up the Main
to Frankfort, on to Darmstadt, and thence to Heidelberg. It was quite
dark when they "crossed the bridge of the Neckar," but "Notwithstanding
the obscurity" wrote Cooper, "we got a glimpse of the proud old ruin
overhanging the place, looking grand and sombre in the gloom of night."
He thought the ruins by daylight "vast, rather than fine" though parts
had "the charm of quaintness." The "picturesque tower" was noted, adding
"but the finest thing certainly is the view from the garden-terrace
above." Below it, unrolls miles of the beautiful Neckar valley country,
through which they drove to Ludwigsburg and on to Stuttgart. Beyond,
appeared a distant view of "a noble ruin" crowning a conical eminence.
This was the Castle of Hohenzollern, "the cradle of the House of
Brandenburg" to which a thunderstorm prevented their intended visit.
[Illustration: HEIDELBERG AND CASTLE.]