He mentions the barbarous dress that still prevailed--that a man and his

wife ate from the same plate--that one cup sufficed for the use of a

whole family--that gold or silver were rarely or never seen for ornament

in dress--that war was still the glory of the men. But the more refined

ecclesiastics even then contrived to gather luxuries around them,

brought by reviving commerce from the East. And that at this age

considerable display could be made on grand occasions, will be well

shown by the account given of the French soldiers and the procession on

the entry of Beatrice into Naples, A. D. 1266. The writer above quoted

says, that “all of them were tastefully dressed, and wore beautiful

plumes, while their chiefs were notably adorned with large golden

collars; and the carriage of the queen covered with silken velvet, dyed

sky-blue, and sprinkled with golden lilies.” Carriages, says the

authority cited, were very rare. The “many ladies of rank, glittering

with precious robes, and sitting on their richly caparisoned, ambling

palfreys,” complete the view of a characteristic scene of the times. It

is impossible to read such descriptions without feeling in its full

force the statement of Hallam, that the revival of commerce and arts

must be dated much earlier than the thirteenth century.

One of the earliest movements in this revival is to be seen in the

woolen manufactures of Flanders, which were so flourishing in the

thirteenth century, that a contemporary writer asserts “that all the

world was clothed with English wool wrought in Flanders.” Brabant and

Hainault were also the seat of the same manufacture; and the fabrics

woven in the factories of the Netherlands were, doubtless, extensively

diffused. We need scarcely observe, that the attainment of this

perfection mast have been a work of some time.

Cologne, Bruges, Ghent, and Antwerp became centres of manufactures and

commerce; whilst the origin of the Hanseatic League gave a new impulse

in the north to the progress of the useful arts. In the early part of

the fourteenth century a system of trading commenced between the north

and south of Europe; and the free application to navigation of the

discovery of the magnetic needle--a discovery made in Europe about A. D.

1200, and long unapplied--vastly increased commercial intercourse, and,

as a necessary consequence, the home manufactures of nations. The

Italian towns, especially Venice, Pisa, and Genoa, first raised to

importance by the Crusades, took a leading part in the general movement,

and became the channels through which the East poured her riches and the

knowledge of her arts into Europe. The southern French provinces were

not behindhand. Marseilles--where the spirit at commercial enterprise

had never wholly died away--Narbonne, Nismes, and Montpellier, were all

distinguished for prosperity and growing wealth. The invention of a

system of banking, which we find in operation so early as 1400 A. D.,

deserves to be mentioned, as one of the most influential causes of the

rapid growth which followed. England, indebted to her neighbors for the

origin of so many of her manufactures, entered the lists late, though

destined eventually to outstrip all competitors.

During the unsettled periods at which we have been glancing, agriculture

was, of course, neglected; but toward the end of the thirteenth century

we find that it has shared in the general revival, and that the plains

of Lombardy present the appearance of one vast garden. Indeed, the

prospect of Italy was then far more pleasing than that which there meets

the traveler’s eye in our own times.

A few words on the progress of the art of building. The first Gothic

architecture--correctly so named--appears to have arisen from an

imitation of Roman remains, and the combination therewith of rude

barbaric notions. The round arch still remained the predominant feature

of construction; and the less finished works of this period, with their

undeveloped style, deserve the name of “Gothic,” which is now generally

restricted to the designation of them. In the twelfth century, however,

the introduction of the pointed arch marked a new era in the art of

building, and was the beginning of that skill and taste which produced

the magnificent architectural monuments inherited by us from the middle

ages. Clustered pillars, carved mullions, foliations, and graceful

tracery, quickly followed the introduction of this new element; and the

union of strength with lightness, of which the flying buttress affords a

beautiful example, was carried to as high a point of perfection as the

material would allow. To the introduction of the pointed arch Venice

may, perhaps, lay claim; and the rise of her palaces amid the waters of

the Adriatic, probably marked the origin of many other improvements in

construction. One of these, which lies at the very root of modern skill

in house building--we mean the framing of timber floors--may be assigned

to her artificers. Houses were thenceforward built in stories, and skill

in this respect soon issued in domestic works, which in utility and

outward beauty surpassed the ancient dwellings. These improvements were

soon adopted elsewhere, from the ninth and tenth centuries downward.

The Moorish architecture, introduced into Europe by the Arabian

conquerors of Spain, early attained a high development. One singular

characteristic of this style,--the horse-shoe arch--must be specially

mentioned, as a new feature in construction; and its shape was, perhaps,

suggestive of the dome, universal in the later Mohammedan architecture.

Slender pillars, profuse decorations in painting, mosaic, and stucco,

with elaborate lattice and trellis-work, and perforated battlements, so

intricate as to resemble network, are the other points for remark in

Moorish buildings. The polish and refinement of the Saracens

distinguished them wholly from the rude barbarians of the North. They

did not invade to destroy, but to improve; and so early was the

development of their architecture, that one of their most splendid

remains, the mosque at Cordova, was erected in the beginning of the

ninth century--a period which could show nothing so beautiful elsewhere.

The celebrated Alhambra--the palace of the Moorish kings of Granada--is

some three centuries later, and must be alluded to here as the highest

development of the luxurious Eastern style. The perfect state in which

parts of this celebrated Moorish palace still remain, is elegantly thus

described by a modern writer,[12] in his notice of the “Court of Lions”

and the surrounding halls:--“Here the hand of time has fallen the

lightest, and the traces of Moorish elegance and splendor exist in

almost their original brilliancy. Earthquakes have shaken the

foundations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers; yet, see, not one

of those slender columns has been displaced--not an arch of that light

and fragile colonnade has given way; and all the fairy fretwork of these

domes, apparently as unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning’s

frost, yet exist, after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if

from the hand of the Moslem artist.”

In following the course of invention and rediscovery during the middle

ages, and in subsequent times, we see two main causes of the superiority

of our own useful arts to those of the ancients--the extended

application of mechanical and chemical science. The discovery of the

various problems in mechanics, which paved the way for the

multiplication of human force, and the introduction of new motor powers,

occupied chiefly the latter half of the sixteenth and the seventeenth

century. The treatises of Stevinus and Galileo, with the first dawnings

of the discovery of the steam-engine, appear to mark a new era, and

prepare the way for those wonderful applications of moving power which

have changed the face of the manufacturing world. The subsequent train

of discovery is far too comprehensive for our limits, and ends at length

in that crowning development of machinery--the Calculating Machine of

Mr. Babbage. We need only mention that, by this extraordinary

instrument, some processes of numeric and algebraic calculation may be

effected, to an extent hitherto unattainable by mathematicians.

A short view of the progress of the art of clockmaking, will well

illustrate a gradual advance made in the application of mechanics to the

uses of daily life. Striking clocks were known in Italy probably as

early as the end of the thirteenth century--one other strong proof that

we must date the revival of arts much earlier than that period. Their

existence becomes certain about the middle of the fourteenth; probably

at that period they were general. These clocks were all moved by the

action of weights; and, though furnished with balance regulators, were

still very inaccurate. Next followed the introduction of a spring as the

moving power, marking a new era in the art. Then came the age of

mechanical discovery, producing Galileo’s observation of the vibration

of the pendulum in nearly equal times, whether the spaces traveled

through were large or small. So valuable a discovery could not long

remain dormant; and we find, accordingly, that it was applied by the

discoverer, or, in a better form, by Huyghens, to the regulation of

time-pieces by means of the pendulum. The advance of chemical science

soon showed a source of error in the unequal size of the pendulum,

caused by alternate expansion and contraction of the metal due to change

of temperature. This was remedied by the use of the jar filled with

mercury as a pendulum; and subsequently by the employment of a pendulum

formed of different metals, so arranged that their different expansions

should mutually balance each other. The mutual connection between the

art of making clocks and the science of astronomy, in which each has

alternately borrowed and lent so much, is an excellent illustration of

the many points in which the useful arts are brought into contact with

higher provinces. The remaining improvements would fill volumes, and we

cannot pretend to enter more fully into them.

In our estimate of causes at work during the middle ages, we must not

forget that the alchemists exercised a very important influence. Their

doctrine, that all the metals are compounds of the constituent parts of

gold mingled with baser matters, which could be separated by the action

of the philosopher’s stone, exercised eventually a powerful influence on

the progress of arts. The long and patient research of the “adept” after

this magic agent for turning all it touched to gold, though prompted by

cupidity, resulted in many chemical discoveries and adaptations, and

brought to light various useful products, for which, perhaps, we might

long have waited, had not this strong motive been rooted in the minds of

philosophers of the middle ages.

The invention of printing will be noticed elsewhere; and the comparative

state of the useful arts in Europe may be estimated from their history

in our own country. It remains for us here to notice, in a supplemental

manner, one or two branches of art which will not be elsewhere included.

By this means we shall better illustrate a subject into which we cannot

pretend to enter fully.

In the preceding pages, the use of silk by the Greeks and Romans has

been merely glanced at, because the tissues which they employed were

strictly of foreign production. We will now shortly notice a

manufacture, the history of which will illustrate many preceding

remarks. Its origin must be assigned to China, where it doubtless

reached a highly perfect state, before any other nations acquired an

acquaintance with the mode of producing or working the raw material. It

is probable that silk-worms were reared in China, and their cocoons

extensively employed, 2700 years before the Christian era. The raw

material subsequently was exported to Persia, Tyre, Berytus, and

elsewhere, till, in our westward progress, we find the island of Cos

receiving and manufacturing it. In the Augustan age silks were still

rare, even in Rome, the centre of all luxuries; and so late as the third

century it was deemed a display of wanton profusion for an emperor to

dress entirely in silk.

In the sixth century, some Persian monks, who had penetrated into China,

gained an acquaintance with the source whence silk is derived--a secret

till then guarded with scrupulous care. They brought back with them to

Constantinople a quantity of eggs enclosed in a hollow cane, which

produced “the progenitors of all the generations of silk-worms which

have since been reared in Europe and the western parts of Asia.” For

nearly six hundred years, Constantinople and the territories of the

Greek empire continued to monopolize the production of silken fabrics;

till, in the twelfth century, the manufacture was introduced into

Sicily, and thence successively into Italy, Spain, and France; until,

finally, it reached England. The culture of the mulberry-tree was

extensively introduced wherever the climate permitted. Bologna, Modena,

Venice, Genoa, and Florence were all noted for their silk manufactures,

and produced silken tissues for the rest of Europe; till, in the

sixteenth century, the rearing of the worm and the weaving of silk were

introduced into Lyons and the south of France, since which period the

French have acquired and maintained a superiority in this branch of the

useful arts. In this historical sketch we may observe many important

points:--First, we see a manufacture in a stationary state of high

perfection for thousands of years in the East; then follows its slow

progress westward during the ages of Greece and Rome; next the loss to

Italy and Europe of the bare knowledge of the material product, on the

fall of the Roman empire; then the revival and cultivation of the

manufacture in the metropolis of the Eastern empire; succeeded by its

introduction thence into Sicily, and a rapid improvement effected by the

enterprise of Italian cities; till, finally, it spread wherever

circumstances were favorable. The account of any such manufacture well

remembered, is a kind of epitome of the history of the time through

which we mark its progress. To make the sketch true in all its parts we

need only add, that a Frenchman invented a loom to make woven silks,

whose patterns rival the slow produce of Eastern patience, while England

has shown her accustomed superiority in the effecting by machinery of

all processes required antecedent to weaving.

We have mentioned the singular manner in which the ancient Greek art of

vase painting died away, without apparent cause. The reappearance of the

same art early in the middle ages is due, probably, to the Moors, but

whence derived by them, or whether reinvented, or how retained in the

world during so many centuries, are all curious questions. But, be this

as it may, the manufacture of porcelain vases, where color and enamel

were carried to high perfection, with their arabesques, heraldic

devices, portraits, or landscapes, and an endless variety of form,

whether grotesque or tasteful, was much pursued in the fourteenth

century. The beautiful Majolica vases, of which one illustration will be

found standing side by side with a characteristic Moorish jar, were part

of a branch of manufacture which again perished in Italy to revive

elsewhere. The two vases tell each an interesting story. No one can

glance for one moment at the Moorish vessel, with its singular shape and

arabesque ornament, without feeling that it is the monument of a people

that stood alone. As little can we regard the vase of Majolica or

Raffaelle ware, without the thought of that singular coincidence in

things, small as well as great, between the Italian republics and their

ancient Grecian counterparts.

A short epitome of the Majolica manufacture is given as follows in a

recent work:--“Small plates for ice and sweetmeats, about a palm in

diameter; children’s plates, with paintings in the style of the Festa di

Ballo; nuptial vases with appropriate subjects; vases for holding

different kinds of wine, poured out from one spout; fiaschini, or small

flasks, in the shape of lemons and apples; cups covered with tendrils

and other quaint devices; small statues of saints; jocose figures; birds

of every kind, colored after nature; painted tiles, used for walls and

floors, many of them admirably executed, show the great variety and

excellence of this ware.”[13] On the decay of the art in Italy, it was

revived in other forms in France and Germany. The singular accidental

discovery of the art of making the hard paste porcelain, which, till the

beginning of the seventeenth century, was confined to the East, will

furnish one instance of the many debts due to the alchemists. A

persecuted German, named Böttcher, whilst prosecuting his forbidden

researches for the philosopher’s stone, unexpectedly found that some of

his crucibles assumed the appearance of Oriental porcelain. Carefully

noting the substances on which he had been experimenting, he worked

incessantly, sometimes spending many days and nights, without a moment’s

intermission, by the side of his furnace, till at length he perfected

his knowledge of processes which originated the beautiful manufactures

of Dresden. The secret spread through Austria and France, giving rise in

the latter country to the celebrated Sèvres china; and the proscribed

research in a forbidden mine terminated in the happy industry of

thousands of workmen.

The progress of maritime discovery, and the new impulse given thereby to

commercial and industrial progress, has been briefly noticed. But while

compelled by our narrow limits to pass by, with a hasty word of mention,

the enterprise which raised the Venetians and Dutch to the rank of

leading powers in Europe, and which conferred the treasures of Africa

and remotest India upon the Portuguese nation, the rise of the Spanish

power in the new world must be noticed more fully, as opening a new and

peculiar phase of civilization to our view. The singular state of

society among the Aztec race at the period of the Spanish conquest of

Mexico is doubly interesting, from the striking contrast which it

presented to any thing in the old world; and from the fact that it shows

us the highest point of a development, the progress of which no traces

remain to illustrate. Suddenly transported from the stirring scenes of

martial enterprise and reviving industry of Europe in the middle ages,

the steel-clad Spaniard found himself among nations where the blindest

and most abject superstition stood side by side with social refinement;

where the prevailing mildness of manners was no bar to the dreadful

orgies of human sacrifice; and where the busy industry of millions had

been for ages raising the pyramid of art and science, in complete

isolation from their brethren of the old world.

Various points of resemblance will be noticed by the reader between the

arts of these American races and those of ancient Egypt. For instance,

the pyramidal temples found by the Spaniards on their first invasion

much resembled the Egyptian structures, in their form, and were

constructed of solid masses of earth encased with stone or brick facing.

They differed from Egyptian pyramids in being higher proportionally to

the size of the base. They were ascended by external stairs, and were

arranged in several stories. The area at the summit was surmounted by

towers;--sanctuaries where the images of their gods were erected, and

where the horrid stone for human sacrifice stood, close by the altars,

on which a never-dying fire was burning.

Another point of close similarity between the Aztecs and the ancient

Egyptians was seen in the employment of hieroglyphic writing, or rather

painting, by both people. Their laws, their annals, their rituals, and

their business documents, were all expressed by this rude representation

of painted figures, often gross caricatures in their execution. “Their

manuscripts were made of different materials--of cotton-cloth or skins

nicely prepared; of a composition of silk and gum; but for the most part

of a fine fabric from the leaves of the aloe.” A sort of paper was made

from this, resembling somewhat the Egyptian papyrus, which, when

properly dressed and polished, is said to have been more soft and

beautiful than parchment. Some of the specimens still existing exhibit

their original freshness, and the paintings on them retain their

brilliancy of colors. “The large leaves were folded square like books,

or done up into a roll in the ancient manner. The arrangement of the

picture letters was horizontal or perpendicular, and the reading in the

former case probably from right to left.”[14]

The cultivation of the soil was skillfully pursued by the Aztec people.

Their irrigation, farm buildings, and agricultural processes, were

excellent; while the large fields of maize, the banana, the cacao or

chocolate plant, the useful aloe, the vanilla, and a crowd of splendid

garden plants, furnished them with all necessaries and many luxuries on

almost too easy terms. A description of the uses of the aloe or agave

plant, from the pen of the eloquent author just cited, is highly

interesting:--“Its bruised leaves afforded a paste from which paper was

manufactured; its juice was fermented into an intoxicating beverage,

_pulque_, of which the natives to this day are excessively fond; its

leaves further supplied an impenetrable thatch for the more humble

dwelling; thread, of which coarse stuffs were made, and strong cords,

were drawn from its tough and twisted fibres; pins and needles were made

of the thorns at the extremity of its leaves; and the root, when

properly cooked, was converted into a palatable and nutritious food. The

_agave_, in short, was meat, drink, clothing, and writing materials for

the Aztec.”[15]

The Mexicans were well acquainted with the usual mining operations for

procuring gold, silver, lead, and tin. Iron was unknown to them, and we

find bronze fulfilling a variety of uses, just as among the ancient

Greeks and Romans. Very perfect tools were made from this compound of

tin and copper; vessels of gold and silver were cast and chased, some of

them of an enormous size; in the working of ornamental jewelry, and in

the cutting of precious stones, their artificers highly excelled. A hard

mineral substance--obsidian, furnished the material for their hardest

tools--their axes, knives, razors, and swords. Their sculpture still

evidences skill in workmanship, though the designs may be barbarous; and

the mechanical skill which could raise and transport so large a monument

as a porphry stone of fifty tons weight, without the aid of beasts of

burden, from a distance of many leagues, cannot have been contemptible.

They employed utensils of lacquered wood or of earthenware, and in the

art of pottery were so advanced, that it was said by a historical writer

of Europe, “There is no fictile vessel among ourselves which in skill of

construction excels the vases formed by them.” And this, too, at a time

when the fictile art was at a high pitch of excellence in Europe. Cotton

was raised abundantly in the suitable localities; was woven into

fabrics, sometimes beautifully fine; and these in turn made into a kind

of armor by thickly quilting. Or it was interwoven with the “delicate

hair of rabbits and other animals, which union produced a cloth of great

warmth as well as beauty, of a kind altogether original; and on this

they often laid a rich embroidery of birds, flowers, or some other

fanciful device.”[16]

The reader will remember the feather tapestry to which allusion has been

made in the account of Greek and Roman art. It is singular to turn after

the lapse of centuries and find this fabric in a more perfect form, and

applied to an infinite variety of purposes, among a newly-discovered

people, whose very existence was undreamt of by the ancient world. The

gaudy plumes of the tropical birds most naturally have suggested their

employment for dress or ornament, and the art of working them made so

great progress as to have become a characteristic of the industry of the

people. Tapestry and mantles of these materials could not be excelled,

in brilliancy of hue and softness to the touch, by the most elaborate

tissues of the loom.

The scenes which everywhere met the eyes of the Spanish invader denoted

a state of refinement and luxury, in some points forcibly reminding us

of counterparts in Eastern life. One main cause of this development was

perhaps the singular contrast which Mexican society offered to that of

Greece, Rome, or modern monarchies, in the fact that trade was not only

honorable in itself, but a pathway to high political dignity.

The list of articles given by Mr. Prescott, as the tributes paid to the

royal revenue, will furnish an epitome of many manufactures and

products. “There were cotton dresses and mantles of featherwork

exquisitely made; ornamented armor; vases and plates of gold; gold dust,

bands, and bracelets; crystal, gilt, and varnished jars and goblets;

bells, arms, and utensils of copper; reams of paper; grain, fruits,

copal, amber, cochineal, cocoa, wild animals and birds, timber, lime,

and mats.”[17]

The regularity of plan in the chief cities, which so forcibly struck the

eye of the Spaniard; the solid structures of stone, often reared amid

the waters of their lakes on a foundation of piles; the vast temples

before described; aqueducts only second, perhaps, to those of Rome or

Peru; vast solid dykes, and roads of masonry which vied in stability

with those of ancient Rome, everywhere attested a high state of

constructive skill; while baths, gardens, canals covered with light

craft, and sculptures in an infinite variety of form, generally

grotesque, may be added to the details already given of the results of

Mexican civilization.

There is nothing in the old world, says Mr. Stephens, like the ruins of

the cities of Central America, which he so completely explored. The

pyramidal structures are not complete in themselves like those of Egypt.

They form parts of a whole, have no cells in their interior, and were

mostly employed as the foundations for other buildings; nor are the

single stones, used for images and ornaments, to be compared in vastness

of proportion to Egyptian obelisks. The conclusion arrived at by the

writer above quoted is, that in these cities we are presented with “the

spectacle of a people skilled in architecture, sculpture, and drawing,

and, beyond doubt, other more perishable arts, and possessing the

cultivation and refinement attendant upon these, not derived from the

old world, but originating and growing up here, without models or

masters, having a distinct, separate, independent existence; like the

plants and fruits of the soil, indigenous.”[18]

These edifices were constructed probably by the people who occupied the

country at the time of the Spanish invasion, not by earlier races; and a

short account of some of the more remarkable remains will be here added,

to complete the picture of civilization in the new world already

presented to the reader.

The remains never reveal the existence of the true arch, and herein are

similar to most primitive architectural structures. The substitute in

use was, to make the stones gradually overlap each other, until they

approached close together in the centre of the doorway or passage to be

roofed, when one more stone was added to complete the pointed arch thus

formed.

Of the various cities described by Mr. Stephens, we shall take Copan as

an example; lying in one of the most fertile valleys in Central America.

This city extended along the river Copan for more than two miles. The

great feature in the remaining ruins is the vast temple, which presents

a line of survey of 2866 feet. “The front or river wall extends on a

right line north and south 624 feet, and is from 60 to 90 feet in

height. It is made of cut stones, from three to six feet in length, and

a foot and a half in breadth. The other three sides consists of ranges

of steps and pyramidal structures, rising from 30 to 140 feet in height

on the slope.”

The numerous idol columns situated among the ruins of Copan, and

elaborately sculptured into rude forms, will be best understood from the

drawing of one of the most celebrated, which may be seen in the

frontispiece to the work of Mr. Stephens. Altars of great variety in

form, covered with sculptures and the mysterious hieroglyphic writing;

rectangular court-yards, with ranges of steps ascending to raised

terraces; and the scattered remains of gigantic sculpture, are the most

striking features in the existing ruins. The carvings in stone display

almost a perfection in the mere manual art, and show that the metallic

substitutes for modern tools must have been excellent; while the

beautiful representations of dresses and ornaments contrast agreeably

with those repulsive forms in which they chose to embody their ideas of

divine beings.

The remains of a palace at Palenque, also of considerable size, built of

stone, faced with stucco, and painted in various bright colors, display

the proficiency of the ancient inhabitants in other branches of

industry. Their cement and mortar are said to equal those found in Roman

remains; stucco ornament was extensively employed; and the

hieroglyphics, bas-reliefs, and other ornamented sculptures are fully as

remarkable as those of Copan. Feather head-dresses; ear-rings,

necklaces, medallions, bracelets, and girdles are beautifully carved in

stone, as ornaments of the sculptured figure. Some bas-reliefs are in

stucco, but this is more common for borders and other minor ornaments.

The area of the building was inclosed by two parallel corridors,

surrounding it on all sides; and the main feature was a large

rectangular court-yard, 80 feet long by 70 broad. Other court-yards of

less size, and a variety of apartments filled up the area. Did our space

permit, there could scarcely be a more pleasing task than to follow the

wanderings of Mr. Stephens among the ruined cities of Yucatan, of which

he has discovered no less than forty-four; but enough has been said to

show the skill of the ancient inhabitants, the monuments of which

excited such lively wonder in the breasts of the Spaniards.

It would, doubtless, be interesting to carry our view southward into the

region of Peru, and to describe the monuments of a civilization on a par

with that of the Aztecs, though apparently unconnected therewith in its

origin. The immense extent of many Peruvian works; their roads,

sometimes nearly 2000 miles in length, and constructed of masonry

equally solid with any remains of antiquity; their subterranean

aqueducts for the irrigation of dry lands, extending for hundreds of

miles; their edifices of porphyry, granite, or brick, all displayed

skill in the useful arts concurrent with that of the ancient Mexicans.

In some points they were even superior, for while the Aztec race passed

to the agricultural mode of life without gaining any acquaintance with

the utility of domestic animals, or the economy of pastoral subsistence;

on the contrary, we find that the Peruvians were masters of immense

flocks of llamas, alpacas, and two other varieties of sheep, which

furnished them with valuable supplies of fine wool for clothing, and

with flesh for food.

A description of the manufactures and arts of the Peruvians would be so

closely similar in its details to that already given of the Aztecs, that

we may here dismiss the subject with this remark--that the former were

superior to their northern neighbors in the designing and construction

of public works of importance, but far inferior to them in the art of

expressing their thoughts by signs, and generally in intellectual

acquirement. The curious arrangement of knotted cords, by which the

Peruvians recorded events, is, perhaps, among the most rude of all

barbarous inventions. Curiously enough, similar knotted cords, in modern

times, have been used as alphabet and books for the blind.

When, from the busy scene of European revival and progress, of which we

have remarked a few features, we turn our view to the nations of the

East, how strikingly contrasted is the prospect! Instead of the turmoil

of change, the hurry after new inventions, the disuse of old customs and

processes, we see the life of art to be one steady, even tenor. It seems

almost as if a law had been laid down in the very nature of the

inhabitant of those climes--“Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.” He

appears to have reached a point of perfection in many manufactures, in

times so early that their history is fabulous; and to have scarcely

improved his position during the lapse of thousands of years.

This singular want of advance beyond a certain point, together with many

peculiarities in the industrial condition of the Chinese, combine to

render a notice of this curious people indispensable to the present

article.

“Time,” says the writer in the “Encyclopædia Britannica,” “may be said

to stand still in China.” Half-burnt bricks, mud, clay, and wood still

continue to be the ordinary materials of their architecture, as they

were three thousand years ago. The case is precisely the same with the

minor points of dress and fashion. There a young lady may safely wear

the head-dress of her great grandmother, without the imputation of being

singular or old-fashioned.

Their buildings are singularly monotonous in form and plan--the thatched

hut of the meanest peasant, with its walls of mud, is scarcely lower in

point of design than the palace of the viceroy. Their houses are low,

furnished with overhanging roofs, uninterrupted by a single chimney;

their windows are fitted with poor substitutes for glass, in the shape

of oiled paper, gauze, or a transparent shell; the houses of a town are

crowded together, and with the flag-staffs and ornamental streamers

produce quite a camp-like effect. But the gaudy decoration of their

shops--the brilliancy of their painted lanterns--the bustle and

confusion of traffic, and the hilarity of the motley crowd would soon

undeceive the spectator, and convince him that he is anywhere but in the

seat of war. The domestic furniture--the couches, the stoves, the china

vessels, the painted fans, and cabinets, and the beautiful materials for

dress--bespeak a great deal of comfort, though they may display but

little taste. Four points are said to be peculiarly characteristic of

the Chinese, as compared with other Oriental nations--“they sit on

chairs, eat off tables, burn wax candles, and cover the whole body with

clothing.” But many others place them in a position enviable when

compared with that of their neighbors. The internal communication in

their country is admirably provided for by the numerous canals which

everywhere intersect the whole empire, and unite their large navigable

rivers into one vast network for traffic. These canals are crowded by

barges, varying with the size and depth of the channel; some of them

worked by paddle-wheels, moved by machinery, and well fitted up for the

conveyance of passengers or goods. In fact, traveling in China is quite

luxurious, though not very speedy. The voyager makes a home of his boat

for the time being, and lives as comfortably as in his own house. There

is but little road-traveling or land-carriage in the Celestial Empire.

The Chinese, with all their defects, contrive to produce some articles

superior to the counterparts of European manufacture. Their vermilion,

prepared from the same cinnabar which we ourselves employ, is far

brighter than ours; the blue colors on their china are more perfect;

while, in the ingenious carving of ivory into fans, pagodas, or nested

balls, no other artists can vie with them. Their large horn lanterns are

inimitable; their gongs cannot be made in Europe, though we know the

metal; their silver filagree work, lacquered cabinets, engraved stones

and gems, are all works of great skill. In the productions of the loom

they are scarcely equalled by French manufacturers; their silks, satins,

embroidery and tassels are unsurpassed; while in the variety of their

spices and perfumes, and the excellence of their paper, ink and

printing, they may challenge the world. And yet the old customs of

primitive times--the domestic weaving and dyeing, still continue the

same as in those days when the beautiful tissues found their way into

Greek and Roman houses. But, while praising the excellence of their

works, we only allude to the finished product--the process is generally

primitive, the tools are simple, and the artificer almost unassisted by

machinery.

Their agriculture has been over-praised--their plows hardly merit the

name--they have no succession of crops--simple rice is the staff of

life, and their only claim to superior merit appears to be in the

general practice of irrigation. The white mulberry-tree is grown in vast

quantities to supply the silk-worm with food, and in the middle

provinces large fields of cotton and patches of indigo are frequent. The

tea-plant is cultivated extensively, only in particular provinces, but

grows every where in gardens and inclosures. The leaves are gathered

from the middle of April to the middle of May, and are exposed to heat

in iron pans. A high temperature produces the black-teas; while the

leaves exposed to less heat form the green teas. The berry of the

tea-plant affords a fine oil for the table. Tobacco is in universal

cultivation and use.

A curious feature in the Chinese character is visible in their import

trade. So rigidly exclusive are they, that nearly all foreign produce

must be imported in Chinese ships; and further, the great bulk of such

imports is collected by colonies of Chinese, who reside in the countries

furnishing the supply, and retain their utter isolation even in the

midst of foreigners. These imports are considerable, and some of them

curious. They are thus enumerated: “From Java alone they import birds’

nests to the value of half a million dollars annually; the sea-slug

(_Holothuria_) from the coast of New Holland, Timor, and adjoining

islands, to a still greater extent; sharks’ fins from the same quarter;

copper from Japan, and tin from Bantam; pepper, areca-nut, spices of

different kinds, ebony, sandal-wood, red-wood for dyeing,

tortoise-shell, pearl-shell, coral, camphor, wax, and a variety of

articles generally produced or collected by their own countrymen

resident in the islands of the East.”[19]

In returning homeward from the distant regions of the Celestial Empire,

could we but pause for a short time to survey the vast continent of

Hindûstan, we should find ample materials for description and comment.

We should behold a country destined by the bountiful gifts of nature to

be the inexhaustible source of wealth and luxury through all time, yet

still itself in the infancy of development. We should see again the

characteristic Eastern skill and patience, which, without the aid of

machinery and the mighty assistance of the division of labor, can rival,

in the beauty of their products, the most finished works of European

art. And we should look forward with hope and trust to a time when the

universal introduction of our own arts and civilisation shall confer on

India treasures more vast than her richest mines of diamonds or gold.

But we must now close this article with a brief summary of the few

points which it has been our endeavor to illustrate.

We see, then, the arts of the Western Empire trodden down and lost to

view during the ages of northern invasion, but preserved by the feeble

successor of the Queen of Nations in the East. We see during the same

period the mighty torrent of Moslem conquest, bearing with it the

science and arts of the East, and implanting them in the heart of a

conquered nation in Europe; whence, during centuries, they diffused

themselves through various channels, connecting the empire of the

polished Arab with the ruder Gothic nations. Concurrently with this

Arabian influence in its later periods, we see the steady and

ever-increasing tide of knowledge flowing from Constantinople to Italy

and the rest of Europe. Then comes the period of general revival, and

the northern nations wake to life. The progress of science and the union

of nations call into existence numberless fountains of knowledge,

gathering their waters into one mighty stream, that flows on to our own

times--an unbroken, resistless river, ever swelling with new and

innumerable tributaries.

But the new spirit awakened in Europe does not rest there. It carries

her inhabitants forth to the uttermost bounds of the earth. A new world

receives them with its singular picture of manners and arts; and while

the newly-found nations perish under the ruthless cruelty of the

invaders, their country sends back invaluable products to influence the

progress of European arts. The progress of these arts, and the mighty

inventions of modern times, belong, as we have said, to another article;

it has been our care, therefore, to select from the East one example of

the unbroken tenor of her industrial life--the antiquity and stability

of her arts.

-----

[11] Ricobaldus Ferrariensis, Murat. Diss. 23.

[12] Washington Irving, “Tales of the Alhambra.”

[13] Murryat on Pottery, p. 19.

[14] Prescott’s “Conquest of Mexico.”

[15] Ibid. p. 123.

[16] “Conquest of Mexico,” vol. i. p. 130.

[17] Ibid. p. 36.

[18] Stephens’ “Central America,” vol. ii. p. 442.

[19] Encyc. Britann., art. China.

* * * * *

=BLIND SIGHT-SEEING.=

=FROM HOUSEHOLD WORDS.=

It was traveling on the railroad from Orleans to Amboise, that I first

met Monsieur and Madame Faye, who were returning from Paris to Tours.

There was a little battle, just as the train was starting, in

consequence of late comers. The only wonder is how any Frenchman manages

ever to be ready, considering the immense amount of talk and

leave-taking which seem a part of their existence--and I, amongst

others, put out my hand to help in an apparently infirm man, whose

agitation seemed to prevent him from knowing where to take his seat. I

pointed to that next to me, pulling his coat to force him into it, that

we might not all be inconvenienced by his lingering. He bowed and

smiled, and continued to talk to a female who followed him; and who

began to stow away numerous baskets and bundles which she was tightly

embracing, thanking us, all the time, for our politeness to her husband.

In a few seconds they were stashed, and we then had leisure to remark

the appearance of the new travelers. The gentleman was rather past

middle age, good-looking, neatly dressed. He had a cheerful, pleasant

countenance and soft, mild eyes, which he directed toward those to whom

he spoke, although we afterward found they possessed no speculation. The

lady was any thing but tidy in her style; indeed, so much the reverse as

to be surprising in a Frenchwoman; but her story, when it was told me at

our next meeting at Tours, explained the peculiarities which made her at

first an object of somewhat disrespectful observation.

We soon became good friends. Monsieur Faye was blind, and had been so

from childhood. His cousin, Mathurine, had _proposed for him_ when they

were both about five-and-twenty, and had, from that time, devoted her

whole life to attend on him.

“I should not,” she said, “have asked him; but that my brother, who

required my services because of his lameness, determined just then to

marry; and, therefore, as I had a substitute with him, and poor dear

Hector here was too modest to ask me, what else was to be done?”

I found, on further acquaintance, that Hector was a remarkable

personage, in his way: a bit of a musician, a philosopher, an antiquary,

and a great reader of, or rather listener to, history; for it was his

little, lively, untiring wife, who read to him from morning till night;

and sometimes, when he could not sleep, from night till morning.

I found Mathurine incessantly occupied with the well-being of Hector.

She might have been pretty at the period of their union, probably some

twenty years before; but her small, slight figure was rather awry, in

consequence of having, for so long a time, served as a prop to her tall

husband, who always leant on her shoulder as he walked. She seemed

indeed altogether out of the perpendicular; her bonnet never sat

straight, owning to its being pushed aside by his arm; her shawl had the

end any where but in the middle; her gloves were generally ragged at the

fingers, while I observed that his were carefully repaired--it being

evident that my friends were obliged to practice economy; her shoes were

shabby, with the strings often untied. “What would you have?” she once

remarked laughingly. “I have no time to attend to these trifles; which,

after all, don’t signify; for I am not a _coquette_, and he does not see

me. I catch up the first thing that comes to hand, and he fancies I am

quite a _belle_.”

Hector had the strangest voice I ever heard; it would begin _contralto_

and run up to _alto_ in an incredible manner when he was excited; and

then fall down again to the gruffest bass, his little brisk wife’s

treble accompanying so as, as she imagined, to soften the sharp effects

he produced.

She had managed to learn several languages, in order to read to him the

authors he admired in the original; and odd enough her versions were;

but, as he perfectly comprehended the jargon they had studied together,

her plan succeeded admirably.

Amongst Monsieur Faye’s peculiarities was that of being an inveterate

sight-seer. There was no object of interest near the places he visited

that he had not, as he said, seen; and no sooner did he hear a

description of a castle or a cathedral than he became restless to make

its acquaintance. I happened one day to speak of having, in former

years, gone to the strange old castle of Loches, about thirty miles from

Tours; and struck instantly with his usual desire for exploring, he

proposed a journey to the spot, inviting me to be his guest and guide.

I have always observed that the French, although by no means what we

call rich, are very generous, according to their means, and if they

cannot do a thing in grand style, they do it equally well on a small

scale. Hector had long wished to give a treat to his hostess and her

family, and this he felt was a good opportunity. Our party, therefore,

was formed of Madame Tricot, a black-eyed little widow; her sister

Euphrosine and her young lover the militaire--just arrived on leave to

visit his betrothed--and Achille, the widow’s eldest son; a sharp boy of

thirteen, distinguished by his half-military college uniform, more

perhaps than by the progress he was making in those studies which Madame

Tricot felt sure would lead him to immortality; and which she herself

superintended with unwearied zeal, forcing her refractory pupil to rise

before daybreak every morning, and repeat his Greek and Latin lessons to

her previous to school hours, although, when I questioned her with

surprised awe, she replied by saying with a knowing nod:

“No, no, I do not understand all this; but Achille imagines I do; and,

at all events, he is obliged by this means to learn his lessons. They

are very severe at college, and he is such a _gamin_!”

As I had seldom seen Achille occupied, in his leisure hours, in the

absence of his mamma, in any other way than teazing a peculiarly

uproarious parrot, whose discordant shrieks regularly awoke me from

early slumber, I could easily believe that some difficulties lay in the

way of the future hero’s advancement, had he been left entirely to his

own plan of pursuing knowledge.

Seven persons, large and small, besides the driver, one fine October

morning, filled the large rumbling vehicle which Madame Faye had engaged

for our expedition to the old ruined castle of Loches; and very merry we

all were as we saw the baskets of eatables stuffed under the seats, and

wedged ourselves inside and out preparatory to setting forth, which we

did at last in the midst of a shower of precautionary words from Madame

Tricot, sent after the two staring, laughing, rosy-cheek maids who stood

helping, and enjoying our prospect of a _fête_, and flirting with our

smart driver up to the very last moment. At length we rattled away along

the leafy avenue of the Boulevard Heurteloup, at Tours, and were soon on

the long level road which conducts to the old town, which we made our

goal.

Situated just at the entrance of the luxuriant garden of Touraine; full

to overflowing of grapes and melons, and plums and peaches, of

incredible size; on the banks of the river Indre, (here spanned by

several pretty bridges,) rises the craggy hill, on the sides of which

was built, at a period too remote to be ascertained even by a hand-book,

the rugged, stony, impassable, confused, fossil-looking town, crowned at

its extreme summit by the grimmest, strangest, oldest, and most

inexplicably constructed castle that exists in France. Probably its like

would be sought in vain in Europe. Such another series of towers, and

spires, and long and high walls, terraces, battlements, stair-cases, and

dungeons, was never brought together by the hand of man. The castle was

constructed by order of a certain Count of Anjou, named Foulques Nera,

to become--long after his valorous fame had passed away, or had merged

into the reputation of an ogre--a ponderous plaything.

The inn where our party stopped at Loches, is very characteristic of the

place; for it is, though modernized and beautified outwardly, a maze of

galleries, and corridors, and turrets, and secret stair-cases, and rooms

with vaulted ceilings, so that the world of the present day seems shut

out the moment the façade is lost sight of. It had an odd effect in such

a place to see smart handmaids flitting about, and a chattering hostess

coming out to welcome guests to her antique dwelling, which has all the

trouble in the world to look young and inviting, in spite of the paint

and frippery in which French taste has striven to disguise its feudal

reality.

We very soon arranged ourselves and our repast (with but little addition

from the larder of our nevertheless civil hostess) on a sort of

platform, on the walls of what is now a terrace, and was once no doubt a

war-like spot, where if people “drank the red wine,” it was probably

“through the helmet barred.” The hostess merrily uncorked our bottles of

Loire wine, observing candidly that it was much better than her cellars

produced; and, addressing herself to me, adroitly began a eulogy on the

character of the English in general, remarking, that it was astonishing

how many of my countrymen made her hotel their home for six months

together.

A ramble through the streets showed us that it was market day at Loches.

From the lower range of rugged walls to the rocky summit where the

castle toppled over--comprising the narrow, high street, which ascends

through the whole length, winding and twisting like a snake pursued--was

one mass of vegetables, fruit, and flowers, whose bright hues, and the

gay colors of the vendors’ dresses, contrasted strangely with the lofty

houses with overhanging roofs, frowning down on the groups that dared to

disturb the solemn gloom which had been theirs for centuries.

Monsieur Faye stopped every moment to talk to the market-women, to

cheapen melons, and to accept bouquets from girls whose bright eyes he

praised. On he went, chuckling that his defective sight had not been

discovered: his little wife winking to us meantime with an air of entire

satisfaction. Madame Tricot endeavored to excite Achille to study the

_guide pittoresque_ and make himself acquainted with the notable objects

of the place. The lovers, who had doubtless much zeal in the same cause,

proposed to him that they should all three mount the hill at a quick

pace, and find out the points of view ready for us on arrival at the

top. By a curious chance we never managed to find the couple again until

our return; and Achille reported that he had not seen them since he

observed them to have “joined their heads” over the tomb of Agnes Sorel,

the chief lion of the spot.

It seems that Charles the Seventh came to Loches to hunt, when he was

visited by the disconsolate wife of the troubadour King René, of Anjou,

who came to solicit his aid in favor of her imprisoned husband. Agnes

was in her train--one of those dangerous maids of honor whose eyes have

done such fatal mischief to the susceptible hearts of incautious

monarchs--but when the duchess quitted Loches, her beautiful companion

accompanied her not, she remained in the service of Mary d’Anjou, the

wife of Charles the Seventh.

It would be curious to know in what chamber of this wild old castle the

love tale was first told which has furnished France with a ceaseless

romance. All that remains of Agnes now is her white marble tomb, on

which she lies with her hands clasped on bare breast, her beautiful,

delicate, and expressive head guarded by two winged kneeling cherubs,

and her draperied feet supported by two lambs. The tomb: is in perfect

preservation, and is one of the most exquisite _morceaux_ in France.

Agnes was the châtelaine of the castle, and loved to live here above all

other places, although the munificence of her lover gave her the choice

of several abodes.

Here, it is said that the ill-nurtured Prince Dauphin, afterward Louis

the Eleventh, performed an act very much in conformity with his usual

brutality. In one of these saloons he struck the beautiful favorite of

his father; but he who could beat his own chosen little effigy of the

Virgin Mary, because she refused some of his requests, might well begin

his career by an outrage like this. Happy, no doubt, were both the angry

beauty and her royal lover, when they saw the last drawbridge of the

castle of Loches fall and shut out forever from their presence the

gloomy prince, who disapproved of their luxuries, and who spurred his

steed onward, nor stopped till he had reached the dominions of the Duke

of Burgundy.

Louis came back eventually, however, to these walls, and either late

repentance or a sense of justice caused him to respect the tomb of

Agnes, which he refused to let the monks of Loches remove.

Monsieur Faye was very anxious to ascertain--for he was rather a

phrenologist--the form of the celebrated beauty’s head, and felt it

through the bars which protect the lovely marble statue to his heart’s

content, discovering bumps which would have disclosed the whole of her

character, had history been silent on the subject. There was, besides,

not a cornice nor a balustrade in the building that he did not feel; his

hand being guided by that of Mathurine. I was amazed at the accuracy of

his notions of the places we inspected; and more so at the unwearied

patience of his guide, who had no enjoyment which he did not feel, and

who had acquired a habit of description so accurate that I felt at last

inclined to let her see for the whole party.

The towers of the castle rise above a hundred and fifty feet from the

gigantic rock upon which they are built. Some of them appear light and

graceful at a distance, although really massive. The castle is divided

into two unequal portions: in one is a huge church, the spires of which

peer up between enclosing turrets in a way quite original; the other is

chiefly composed of a huge tower, which looks like the spiteful ogre of

a fairy tale, bending over a mountain and watching to snap up unwary

knights or merchants who ventured near his stronghold. Century after

century this grim old place has been the abode of personages famous in

the romance of history. Joan of Arc came here on a visit; Anne of

Brittany and her two husbands made it their favorite abode, and her

oratory still exists, covered with ermine spots and _cordelières_ in

stone, which incrust the walls, and were very sensible to the touch of

my blind friend. Mary Stuart here tuned her lute; and here, several ages

before, our John Lackland feasted and reveled; here Philip Augustus came

to receive the castle as a bribe for the assistance he was to render him

against Cœur de Lion, who afterward besieged and took it. Here Jean of

France resided, before the great battle which sent him the prisoner of

the Black Prince to England, and in the fine Lady Chapel--whose delicate

columns Monsieur Faye felt with his hands--was instituted a perpetual

mass for the souls of the identical King John of France, and all the

kings and dukes that had preceded him here. Here Francis the First and

the fair and inappropriately named Diana, lived and loved a great part

of their hours away.

When one sees the dark, dreary, gloomy, rugged walls, it is difficult to

fancy Loches a dwelling for beauty and love; and it would require loads

of bright tapestry and gilt furniture to fill up the black and blank

nooks which yawn on all sides. In these chambers, however, once all was

revel and luxury, as the court of the profligate Medici could testify:

and the be-puffed and be-hooped ladies, and the be-slashed and

be-jeweled lords, danced many a _branle_ and _pavane_ over the dungeons,

where howled and groaned the victims of their tyranny and cruel luxury.

It is said that one of the towers descends as deep into the earth as it

rises above it, and terrible are the approaches to these frightful

spots. A tradition exists that one of the later governors of the castle,

being curious to know the extent of these gloomy places, set forth one

day on an exploring expedition, and found several passages closed by

iron doors: these he had forced open, and found himself in new passages,

cut in the depth of the rock on which the castle is built. Another door

arrested his progress, which was also broken open, and he entered a long

alley, still in the rock, which he followed for a considerable time,

till at length it led him to a subterraneous chamber, where, seated on a

huge block of stone, with his head leaning on his two hands, sat a very

tall man. Monsieur de Pontbrillant, the enterprising governor, was

amazed at this vision; but, scarcely had he looked upon it, when the

current of air striking the figure, it fell away into dust at his feet.

Beside the unfortunate prisoner stood a small wooden coffer, in which

still remained several articles of linen, very fine, and carefully

folded. The skull and bones of this corpse were long shown at the

castle, and were looked upon with awe by those to whom this story was

related: but who the prisoner was was never known. In more than one of

the old castles of France are still to be traced these horrid dungeons,

where captives of all ranks were confined immediately beneath the

pleasure chambers of the lords and ladies.

The governor of Loches was always a very great man, which, perhaps,

accounted for the fact of our having to wait a long time for the keys of

the great tower, which a messenger had gone in search of at the present

governor’s lodgings. While we waited in an outer court, we were civilly

invited by the portress to walk into her parlor, and there we sat some

time talking to her, and hearing the gossip of the place. Beside the

large fire-place, guarded from the draught of the open door by a huge

wooden screen, sat the grandmother of the establishment--generally a

cherished member of the humblest family circle in France--who, old as

she seemed, got up and made us a reverence, resuming her cosy seat by

the fire, which was directly piled with enormous pine cones and sent up

a resinous flame, the perfume of which spread through the room. Monsieur

Faye was placed near her, and as she went on with her ceaseless

knitting, she was soon busy in cheerful converse with her new

acquaintance, while I was listening to a history of a lately escaped

convict from this apparently secure retreat: the castle being the

country prison.

“You see,” said the portress, “you would not have been obliged to wait

so long for the keys but for this: we used, till three days ago, to keep

them here, but since that event they are sent up to the governor’s

house, and my husband, the guide, who shows you over the dungeons, is

obliged to go and get them--but he will soon be back.”

“Do they keep prisoners in the dungeons now-a-days?” I asked.

I was told that the escaped culprit, who had robbed a hen-roost, had

been put in a room above the dungeons--of which there are three stories

beneath the ground level--and had contrived to hook up a plank, by which

means he descended, with intent to rise the easier, having swung himself

down till he could jump across a certain black abyss, which we afterward

shuddered to see, and gain a broken stair-case where a door led to a

corridor conducting to the outer court. With an iron nail he had

displaced a huge stone in the steps, had crept through that, displaced a

second in the same way, and thus arrived at the passage. Here he hid

himself in a dark corner on the chance of the jailor-guide coming that

way with visitors before long. As it happened, that event occurred, and

the jailor was just preparing to light the candle which serves to

illumine the gloom, having left the outer door open till the process was

accomplished, when the ready adventurer lept from his hiding-place,

overturned the guide, and amidst the screams and cries of the affrighted

visitors, rushed out, with them, pell-mell into the outer world. As his

blouse was the same costume as that worn by many of the affrighted

strangers--for all ranks make the dungeons a lion--he passed unnoticed

in the crowd, and excited no surprise as he “ran violently down the

steep hill” with the rest and got fairly off. I could not regret that so

ingenious and fearless a personage had baffled the vigilance of the

guardians of Loches, but I felt a little nervous at the chance of a

similar adventure occurring as we began our exploring expedition in the

same quarter. I was assured, however, that there was no chance of such a

thing, all the prisoners now detained, to the number of four, being at

that moment smoking their pipes in a pleasant, sunny little court which

we had to cross before we reached the low door which gave entrance to

the dungeons.

There was nothing formidable in the aspect of these worthies, whose

crimes were not of a deeper die than that of having got drunk and

committed damage to the citizens in their cups; and we passed amongst

them, returning the salutes they made with their night-caps, quite

without alarm.

In the great court before this enormous and sinister-looking tower, one

of the most splendid and the most worthless of the ancient governors of

Loches paused before he entered, attended by three hundred gentlemen of

high family, all probably “as wicked as himself,” and all bent on

turning the good fortune of their friend and patron to the best account.

This governor was the famous favorite of the infamous Henry the Third of

France, the gorgeous Duke d’Epernon, and during the time he passed in

these walls, the gold of the kingdom was no more spared by him than by

his master. But a change arrived--two reigns had intervened--and a

second time he visited these walls, more as a prisoner than a prince; he

was then a gray-headed, gloomy, morose, miserable man, deserted by all

the former companions of his profligacy whom the axe and the sword had

spared, and here he came to hide himself from a court which his vices

had disgraced.

Marie de Medicis, the prisoner of her son at Blois, also arrived here,

in night and silence, escaped from her captivity, and entreated shelter

of the old favorite, who had been suspected of knowing more than was

honest of the murder of her husband, Henry the Fourth.

It is a strange reflection, and one that might well intrude while one

stands before the door of the great tower of Loches, waiting till its

rusty key turns in the lock, how unequal is the fate of those who have

acted remarkable parts in the drama of the world. In spite of the

mutations of fortune, mortification, neglect, disgrace or discontent, in

spite of the overthrow of ambition, the wreck of hope, the struggles and

turmoils, that d’Epernon had gone through, he could not get rid of the

burden of life till the age of eighty-eight, when he died in the Castle

of Loches, unregretted, and at once forgotten.

A story is told relating to him, which proves that men are not to be

frightened by tyranny and power out of their natural wit and sarcasm.

While this favorite of the contemptible king was in the enjoyment of his

greatest favor, the public criers were accustomed to carry about a huge

book, which they announced as “The high acts and deeds of valor and

virtue of the most noble Duke d’Epernon.” These books, eagerly

purchased, were found to contain blank paper. I fear that these

historical recollections did not occur to Achille as he descended the

rugged steps, green, and slimy, and steep, which led, from stage to

stage, to the hideous dark holes in which these heroes of middle-age

romance were accustomed to place their vassals or equals, as the case

might be, when once in the power of their vengeance. Our guide, the

jailor, was a good deal interrupted in his customary story of the place

by indignation at the devastation committed on his steps and apartments

by the late fugitive. Not attempting to smother the indignation awakened

in his bosom, as he reviewed the ruin caused by the nail of the man of

expedients, he mixed up his historical records with allusions to the

damage in something like the following terms:

“Here you see the dungeon where the great monarch Louis the Eleventh

(confound his impudence!) confined his minister Cardinal Balue in an

iron cage--(I wish there was one here now and Jacques le Pochard was in

it!) This is the place where the Grand Duke Sforza was lodged, and you

may see where he painted the walls all round to amuse himself--here,

where the flame of my candle touches the roof--(it’ll take me a whole

day to mend the bottom of that door--the villain!) This is the dungeon

where criminals were fastened to that iron bar in the middle of the

chamber, and were only able to move from one end to the other by

slipping a link of their chain along--mind the step! it leads through

the dark passage to the next flight. (I had no idea the rascal had done

so much harm to my steps! if ever I catch him again, I’ll flay him!--the

brigand!)”

Nothing could equal the delight of my blind friend, at finding that he

could touch the damp roofs of these horrible boudoirs for the favorites

of princes with his hand, and that he could make out the patterns

sketched by the unlucky Duke of Milan on the walls of the chamber with

three rows of bars to the window, through which the duke found light

enough to pursue his passion for art.

We had seen or felt all at last, and I was glad to return to the last

corridor leading to daylight, when suddenly our guide exclaimed that he

had left the key in the lock outside, and that some miscreant in the

court had shut the door upon us. This was startling intelligence, and we

began to feel any thing but satisfaction in the adventure, while our

guide, placing his lips to the huge, gaping key-hole--through which a

long line of sunlight streamed, as if in mockery--roared lustily to

those without. Presently we heard suppressed tittering, and, after a

minute or two of altercation between the old man’s voice and that of a

young girl on the other side, the key was replaced, turned, and we

hastily emerged to day and freedom.

“I ought to have known,” said the old grandfather, laughing, in spite of

his anger, as a pretty, saucy-looking girl of twelve bounded across the

court and took refuge in the porter’s lodge, “that that young hussy

would never let an opportunity slip of playing me a trick--_brigande_!”

Achille seemed more amused with this last episode than any of our

adventures; and it was with much gayety, and highly satisfied, that we

descended the stony street, no longer filled with sellers and buyers,

for the market was over. We had been four hours exploring! and nothing

interrupted the stillness of the dreary old town but the ringing

laughter of our young companions, and the pleasant exclamations of the

whole party.

It was beyond midnight when we drove merrily up to the Boulevard

Heurteloup, and found the same two watchful maidens on the look-out for

our return. They did not appear to have been dull in our absence, nor

did they seem afraid of solitude, probably feeling secure in the

opportune presence of the sentinels on guard, whose measured tread still

sounded along the avenue leading to the rail-road station hard by.

Monsieur Faye remarked that we were fortunate in a moonlight night, and

observed that he had seldom seen the stars so bright as they had been

all the way from Loches.

* * * * *

=THE LUCKY PENNY.=

=BY MRS. S. C. HALL.=

(_Continued from page 534_.)

CHAPTER IV.

Matthew Whitelock, reclining in what he called his “easy chair,” was

musing, rather than thinking, over the inconsistencies of the most

consistent, and pondering as to which was the more beautiful to

contemplate--the love a mother bears her child, or the devotion a child

renders to a parent; thinking how many instances there are of the

former, and how, comparatively, few of the latter; hoping that the widow

would really buy the wine and meat, as he desired; and having, like all

genuine Englishmen, great faith in “creature comforts,” he converted the

worn, attenuated widow into a portly woman. Having arranged this, he

indulged in a vision he had of late enjoyed so frequently, that it had

become almost a reality--that Richard would turn out something like

Whittington: his dreams of the future had gradually taken Richard in,

first as a shadow, then as a substance, until he formed a portion of all

his day dreams--wondering if he could tie up fishing-flies, yet fearing

to ask him, lest Martha might make it another subject of complaint;

varying these fancies with probabilities as to whether he should have

good fishing the first of the following June, when he made his annual

journey to Teddington, and, be the day hot or cold, invariably returned

with a swollen face, wonderfully helping Martha’s sarcasms during the

following summer and autumn months; indeed, she constituted it a red

letter day--every thing occurred “before” or after “master went

bothering after the bits of fish, that the cat wouldn’t eat without

butter, and got the bad face.” Then again his thoughts would dwell upon

Richard, whom he believed--and with fair show of reason--endowed with a

rare capacity for acquiring knowledge, and tuning it to the best

account. He never thought of another power he had--that of attaching to

him those who seldom formed attachments. Some observation made by the

lad, in a careless, off-hand manner, would frequently set his master

calculating what he could do for him. He delighted in lending him books,

and to draw forth his opinions upon them; devising many clever

expedients to overcome Richard’s shyness, and make him “speak out.” As

the lad’s accumulated and accumulating knowledge became better known to

him, he felt almost inclined to apologise when it was necessary he

should take out parcels; but what especially charmed him was the boy’s

unconsciousness of his own book improvement and superiority. Had it not

been for the unaccountable fear Matthew Whitelock entertained of his

housekeeper--which he only overcame by fits and starts--he would have

forbidden Richard the kitchen, and seated him at his own little table in

the dusty back room; but he knew that such a movement must lead to open

rebellion. He had grown positively uncomfortable at the idea of

Richard’s brushing his shoes, and cleaning knives--“a lad capable of

writing the Latin names of his books without a dictionary, and was a

better penman than he was himself!” However difficult it may be of

belief, considering his “calling,” it is a positive fact that Matthew

Whitelock reverenced literary acquirements; and when a clever book did

not “sell,” Matthew would take the part of the author against “the

trade”--a proceeding which caused him to be considered “a fool” by many

who are wise in their own conceits.

These and such like thoughts were passing through Matthew’s mind, in a

half-dreamy way; now lingering, now rushing onward, and then off, while

Peter lay at his feet; and he began to long, as often he did, for

Richard’s return; for he enjoyed a chat with his messenger, as he used

to enjoy a newspaper. Without his perceiving it, Matty entered, and

shutting the door, as she always did when she had any thing particular

to say, placed her back against it, wreathed her bony arms together, and

passing one foot over the instep of the other, stood on one leg,

“shouldering” the door-case.

“It’s my opinion, sir, that you make too much fuss entirely with that

boy, and that he’s forgetting his place.”

“Is it--how?”

“Well, thoughts is thoughts, and it’s hard to put them into words; but

here they are! He’d rayther any time stay fiddling after one bit of dust

or another, or stitching ould tataration books, that’s going to the bad

since the year one, or mending your pen--as if you had not eyesight (the

Lord preserve it) to do it yourself--than sit and rest his young bones

at his supper; and as to rubbing over the knives, he does them in no

time, without a bit of a stop between; so that I never have a word out

of him. And the paper! he reads it shameful! reading polyticks as if

they war dirt; and so ignorant, that when he’s done, he knows no more of

the state of Europe than when he began. His mother says he lives without

sleep, or as good as; there’s a heart-break for a tender mother! I hate

unnatural ways. The truth is, he’s above his business.”

“I quite agree with you.”

“Then,” said the contradictory Matty, “it’s a sin and a shame for you to

say so, sir. You have nothing to complain of: he’s willing enough to do

every hand’s turn for you. I’m nothing in the house--just no-thing! He’s

as civil and smooth as creme--with his good morning, and good evening,

and fine day. Mrs. Cook! but that’s professional--there’s no love with

it. He’s all for learning and books. If he goes on this way, you’ll have

to take him into partnership.”

“Very likely!”

Matty immediately stood erect.

“Then, sir, you must look out for another housekeeper, that’s all: I’m

not going to have two masters, and one of them no better than a dog-boy!

Oh! that I should come to that! He’s bewitched you, so he has--put his

_comether_ over you. I shouldn’t wonder if you made him sit down at your

table, and printed his poems.”

“His what?”

“Poems! Havn’t I heard you say many times that there was no good in

books now, since there’s such a many writers; that a book is no longer a

book, only a rubbish; and that all the half of the writers do is to

spile paper and pens, and waste ink. Them’s your words, master, when you

war in one of your pleasant humors, _discoorsing_ upon the ruin that’s

come into the world. And now this boy goes and writes poems, and you’ll

print them!”

“Go down stairs, Matty, and bring me those poems.”

“And to be made a _paper weight_ in my ould days--just to stand upon

papers.”

“Do as I desire you.”

“I can’t: do you think I’d keep ’em in the kitchen? There they are!” she

continued, throwing a roll of manuscript on the table; “there they are!

As if _he_ had any right to set up for a poet--as if his mother and him

havn’t gone through starvation enough without that. That’s what comes of

his neglecting the state of Europe, and hurrying over the knives: his

mother wanted to tell you about it, but had no courage, and no wonder.

It’s easy to see what’s before him now; and his poor mother blind and

desolate. Poems! Oh! no wonder my hair’s gray! But it’s your fault,

master--informing his mind! I wonder who ever troubled about my mind!”

And out she flounced, while her master, not without some secret

apprehension--more anxiety, in fact, for Richard than he had ever felt

before--unrolled the manuscript, and, after wiping and putting on his

spectacles, commenced its perusal.

[_To be continued._

* * * * *

=THE TOPMOST CITY OF THE EARTH.=

Thirteen thousand, seven hundred and twenty feet above the level of the

sea! At a perpendicular elevation of upwards of two miles and a half,

nearly on the snow line of the Andes, stands the topmost city of the

earth, Ceno de Pasco. It is the capital of the richest silver district

of Peru. At the before-named height, the Andes spread themselves out

into vast plains or table-lands. Such table-lands--Punas, the Indians

call them--sometimes extend hundreds of miles, and, on one of them--that

of Pasco--stands the before-named city of Ceno de Pasco, which I took

care to visit when I was a dweller in Peru.

Through the Palace Square of Lima--not forgetting to look up for the

fortieth time at its magnificent cathedral--over the Rimac by a handsome

bridge, which connects the city with the suburb of San Lazaro, I got out

with my friends into the open country. The plain on which Lima stands

gradually contracts as it approaches the Sierra, until it becomes a

narrow track between great walls of rock. The road then slowly rises to

a height of upwards of six thousand five hundred feet. Having mounted

thus far, and so done more up-hill business than belongs to the ascent

of Snowdon, we are told quietly that we have reached the foot of the

mountains. From this point the ascent is steeper and more dangerous,

winding along narrow paths, and doubling huge projections, yielding,

sometimes, barely room for a mule to pass; whilst, now and then, a heavy

mass comes tumbling down from overhead, and lodges on some ledge that is

wide enough to stop it, with a crash that makes the mountain tremble.

The Sierra is cleft in many places by gorges, that descend, straight as

the plummet, to an immense depth; and, as the road passes along the edge

of these abysses, the view suggests a strong temptation to make one

false step, or cause the same to be made by the mule, since it would be

but a moment’s work to slip into the throat of the old gaping chasm.

As we ascend, the change in the climate and vegetation, of course, soon

attracts attention. We pass from the sugar-cane and banana in the

plains, through every shade of increasing barrenness, to a few mosses

and scrubby bushes on the Puna. A few villages are scattered on the

route, and in the neighborhood of these, maize and potatoes are grown

even at a height of some ten thousand feet. But, by degrees these

disappear, and the monotony of the road is broken only by an occasional

tambo--a most miserable stunted species of road-side inn--which yields a

scanty supply of food and accommodation, and is eaten up almost to the

very walls by fleas. Fleas, I should guess, were, like the potato, first

imported into Europe from Peru. In that country, certainly, the species

must have been multiplying rapidly from the remotest times. The scenery

of the Andes (like that of the Himalayas, and of all vast mountains)

appears, at first sight, to fall short of one’s previous ideas. The view

is often very much confined. The idea of their enormous height is not at

all conveyed by traveling over them; for, the successive valleys and

table-lands present successive starting-points, and the stupendous

mountain chain, supporting countries on its bosom, escapes the

measurement of a mere pair of eyes.

Having crossed the passes of the Alto de Jaquehambo, and the Alto de

Lachaqual--the latter of which is above the snow line, fifteen thousand,

five hundred feet high--we begin to descend, and presently, a sudden

turn in the road reveals a large and apparently well-built town. This

town lies in a basin surrounded by rocks, and the view of it forms a

scene oddly inconsistent with the grand solitude and bleakness of the

scenery around. Closer acquaintance dissipates our notion that the town

is well built. It is a dirty miserable place, in which there are

uncomfortably huddled together fifteen thousand people. It is chiefly

composed of miners’ huts--something like overgrown bee-hives--with a few

tolerable houses that belong to shop-keepers and the proprietors of

mines. As we descend from the pass into the Puna, a scene worthy of the

Andes breaks upon us. We are on the highest and most extensive

table-land in all Peru. Its breadth is about seventy miles; its length

scarcely determinable, as it penetrates into the mountains at various

points, and is not abruptly broken by them, but sweeps gradually upwards

to their summits. In the centre is a large lake, from one side of which

the principal tributary of the Amazon begins its course, whilst, from

the other side, several small streams flow to the western coast, so that

from this lake tribute is sent both to the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

In the distance rises the great Cordillera stretching towards the

Brazils; whilst the nearer peaks of the Andes, whitened with snow, shine

round about us, cold, rugged, and silent, in vast masses that cause our

hearts to dilate with a half painful sense of the sublime. The clear

blue sky of the plains has deepened almost into black; the dull,

lead-colored sun seems to have lost the power of communicating heat, and

looks like a mere spectre of the tyrant under whose reign for so many

years, men, women, and children have been flayed, or roasted, or marked

with a brand upon the skin.

On first reaching the Puna, we all suffer a good deal from the

rarefaction of the air, which produces sickness, bleeding at the mouth

and nose, and pain in the chest. Horses and mules, on their first visit,

suffer from this cause more acutely than men, and the drivers often slit

the nostrils of these animals, an operation which is said to give

relief. The slitting of our own noses being, of course, out of the

question, we get over our discomfort as we can. The only native animals

found on the Puna belong to the llama tribe; alpacas, guanacas, and

vicunas. The llama works at the mines as the ordinary beast of burden,

and is perfectly efficient; it is more sagacious, steady, and

sure-footed even than the mule. The alpacas are tamed and kept in flocks

for the sake of their wool, an article which has of late become

important to the English manufacturers. The guanacas and vicunas--the

former the largest, and the latter the handsomest members of their

tribe--are seldom to be tamed; they range the mountains, and the pursuit

of them affords sport to the European hunter in Peru.

On entering the city of Pasco from the mountain solitudes, we are in the

first place annoyed at the incessant clatter that surrounds us. The

mines are opened in the streets, the courtyards, and occasionally even

in the houses of the town. We encounter them at every step, and as they

are often very shallow--the depth varying from twenty to a hundred and

fifty feet--the blows of many picks and hammers are distinctly heard.

The mines are generally private property, though some of them, indeed,

belong to English companies. The mode of working is extremely careless.

The descent into them is by a bucket hung on an old chain, or worn-out

rope. The sides and roof of the galleries are frequently left

unsupported, because timber happens to be scarce and dear; accidents

therefore constantly occur, but nobody concerns himself about them. The

rubbish is removed after a fall in; and the work goes on as usual. The

miners are, for the most part, Indians. They earn, on an average, from

four to six reals (two or three shillings) daily; but when a rich vein

has been opened, they are paid in ore, and often earn very high wages,

which they spend in brandy, chicha, and fine clothes. The town abounds

with liquor-shops, eating-houses, and _cafés_ which are generally kept

by foreigners, men of all nations. From these places the Indian miners

buy their food ready cooked. It consists chiefly of maize bread and

charquí--slices of beef dried in the sun--great quantities of which are

imported from the more southern republics, especially the Argentine.

Even before food, however, the chief comfort of the Indian is the coca

leaf. The coca plant is not unlike the vine in its appearance. It is

cultivated by the Indians at the foot and on the sides of the

Cordilleras, and bears a white flower, with a small red fruit. At the

proper season, the leaves are stripped from the plants, carefully dried,

and packed in bags containing each from fifty to a hundred pounds. They

have an aromatic bitter taste. The cholo never is without his little

pouch of coca leaves, and a small calabash containing quick-lime, or the

ashes of a hot root. He first chews a quid of leaves until it is well

moistened, and then thrusts a little lime into the mass on the point of

a small stick; thereupon the mastication is continued till the quid is

dry. This kind of refreshment is taken by the miners three times a day,

about a quarter of an hour being set apart for its enjoyment upon each

occasion; and the men will go through the most arduous toil, or travel

for days over the mountains, with no other support than coca leaf. In

traveling, a quid is kept continually in the mouth. On first using the

coca, there is some excoriation suffered by the lips; this, however,

passes off, and, when mixed with a little quinna, I must say that I have

found the stuff very agreeable. It produces the exhilarating effects of

opium without the drowsiness and stupefaction; it will ward off sleep,

destroy the sense of hunger, and act as a spur upon the strength and

spirit. The cholos who use it regularly are unquestionably healthy and

long-lived; but the coca, like all other stimulants, is liable to

serious abuse. The coquero or coca-chewer, who is never without a ball

of it in his mouth, often passes the night through without sleep; he

becomes debilitated, languid, nervous; his complexion takes a greenish

hue; and, if he will persist in his excess--which soon becomes a vice

beyond the power of his will--he perishes.

In the shops of Pasco are found the products of all countries. Bass’s

pale ale is in high favor here, and knives and forks carry the stamp of

Sheffield cutlers. I remember being pleasantly surprised in a shepherd’s

hut on the Puna, at having placed before me some boiled maize on a plate

ornamented with a picture of John Anderson my joe and his gude wife,

with two verses of the song beneath it. The Indian was delighted with

the pleasure I took in the plate, and was solicitous to have the lines

translated.

The most common contents of dishes at the fondas or eating-houses, are

pucheros and picantes; the former a mixture of every thing--beef, pork,

camotes, frijoles, bananas, potatoes, maize, etc., highly seasoned with

aji--a sort of ground pepper of a peculiar and pleasant flavor. The

latter, the picante, is comprised of jerked beef, chopped small, and

mixed with bread crumbs or crushed maize. The usual liquors are a sweet

unpleasant wine, chicha, and guarapo--the latter made from fermented

sugar and water; still good wines are procurable, and spirits are much

too plentiful. Under the influence of spirit frequent battles occur

among the Indians, in which the long knife is freely used.

As the high table-land is altogether unproductive, provisions and other

necessaries are brought from the valleys on the backs of mules. That is

the only practicable mode of carriage; although it is a curious fact

that, during the War of Independence, cavalry and artillery were

transported to these heights, and two battles were fought close to

Pasco. At the latter of these Bolivar had ten thousand troops besides

artillery in the field, and Canterac, the royalist general, opposed him

with an equal number. They must certainly have had a taste for fighting

under difficulties if they dragged themselves, their guns, and horses up

these mountains for no other purpose.

An English firm at Callao, which has considerable mining property on the

Ceno de Pasco, has recently procured from England a quantity of improved

machinery for the extraction of the silver from its ore. The old method

is still commonly practised, that is to say, the ore is amalgamated with

quicksilver by treading together quicksilver and ore beneath the feet of

mules and horses; this proceeding causes a considerable loss of

quicksilver--ruins the feet of the animals, and does not properly

fulfill its purpose. The quicksilver--nearly all of which it brought

from Europe--is afterward evaporated by the application of heat. Coal is

found on the Puna.

The whole annual produce of the mines of Ceno Pasco once reached the

amount of eight millions of dollars, or one million, six hundred and

fifty thousand pounds; but the returns now do not probably reach half

that sum. There is in the city a government establishment, at which all

the silver is marked before being sent to Lima. It is usually melted

into large oblong flat bars, some of which weigh from sixty to eighty

pounds. These are conveyed to the capital on mules, commonly with no

protection except that of the mule-drivers, although the Sierra may be

swarming with the bandit montoneros. These gentlemen do not consider it

convenient to intercept the silver on its downward passage, they

preferring to wait for the coin that is returned in payment. With this

upward freight a strong escort is always sent, and when it is attacked,

a fierce battle ensues, that often ends in favor of the robbers.

The singular accoutrements of the horsemen are among the first things

that attract the attention of the stranger in Peru. If the rider be a

rich man, the horse is almost hidden by a multitude of straps and

ornaments. The saddle is made very high both on pummel and crupper,

leaving just room for the rider to wedge himself into his seat between

them. Under the saddle is the pillow, an alpaca or goat’s skin, dyed

black, with the wool combed out or twisted with silver wire into short

curls, lengthened sometimes with long fringes of dyed alpaca wool. The

stirrups are heavy and clumsy; each is a solid piece of wood, often

measuring twelve inches square at the bottom, and gradually tapering to

a point where it is attached to the saddle by a silver ring; on one side

an opening is scooped out for the foot; the other three sides are all

highly polished, often carved beautifully and inlaid with silver. The

bit is very heavy; often of silver. The head-band is adorned with a long

fringe of plaited strips of leather; and the reins, which are separate,

pass through a silver ring, one of them being continued in a long lash.

In addition to the bridle, the horse’s head is encumbered with a

leathern halter covered with silver ornaments. The spurs are the most

preposterous part of the whole equipment. They are so formed, that the

wearer can walk only on his toes. The stem of the spur is often twelve

inches long, and the rowel six inches in diameter. Amongst the wealthier

classes, these spurs also, are frequently of silver. Every horseman

wears the poncho; and some ponchos, from their splendid colors and fine

texture, are a costly article of dress. The horses that bear these

encumbrances are small, but they are well made and active; they are not

allowed to trot, but taught a sort of amble which, when the rider

becomes used to it, is an easy kind of motion. It is very rapid. Horses

are but seldom used for draught, as, even in the low country, asses are

the ordinary beasts of burden. These are bred in vast numbers, and

troops of them are constantly passed by the traveler on all the roads:

they have no head-gear, but are driven in the same manner as cattle, the

driver riding behind armed with a long whip. These poor animals are most

cruelly treated. Peru has been called “the heaven of women, the

purgatory of husbands, and the hell of asses.” The last clause of the

proverb cannot be questioned.

The taste for gambling, so prevalent throughout South America, is most

strongly developed at Ceno de Pasco. Public lotteries are drawn every

week, and sometimes every day in the week. The streets are continually

infested by fellows crying, “A thousand dollars to-morrow!” These men

carry books, from which they tear, for each customer, a ticket, price

one shilling, giving him or her a chance in the next lottery. The prize

is sometimes as large as five thousand dollars, with intermediate ones

of smaller amount. I believe that the strictest impartiality and

fairness characterize the drawing. All these lotteries are under

government control.

The billiard and montero tables are in constant request: dominoes is a

favorite game in the _cafés_; but those games at cards which are rapid

in their results, and depend wholly upon chance, have irresistible

attractions for all classes. The shaven priest, decorated with cross and

rosary, may be frequently seen playing with the ragged Indian; and

instances are told of the wealthy mine proprietor losing, in a night,

every dollar he possessed to one of his own ragged men.

The cock-pit is a favorite amusement. The combatants are armed with one

spur only; this is a flat, curved, two-edged blade, very keen, and

finely pointed. The first blow commonly decides the battle, and both

cocks are often killed. Hundreds of dollars change hands every minute:

the excitement of the bettors is intense; and, even here, on the

afternoon of the Sabbath, which is especially appropriated to the

cock-fight, the priest hands round his begging-box, or lays his dollar

on a favorite bird.

Ceno de Pasco, although so high up in the world, and so close to the

region of eternal snow, has, nevertheless, a tolerable warmth during the

day. The nights are all frosty, and a dense fog often envelops the Puna.

Excessively heavy rain falls at certain periods of the year. But the

most sublime spectacle on the Andes is a thunder-storm. It is an event

of frequent occurrence in the table-lands, and I had the good fortune to

witness one of extraordinary grandeur. It is impossible to convey any

idea of the magnificence of the spectacle.

The lightning plays around the summits of the mountains in a constant

succession of brilliant flashes, whilst the thunder is prolonged through

the deep ravines and distant valleys, until the echo of the one peal and

the crash of another blend together in one never-ending roll. Heavy

falls of snow often accompany these storms, and the condition of

travelers crossing the passes during one of them is most distressing.

Unable to advance or to retreat, they halt and wait, in momentary fear

of being hurled over the mountain sides. Blinded by snow, and by the

vivid flashes, they dare not proceed; the ledges also are, perhaps, so

narrow, that if they would they could not turn the mule round to retrace

their steps. In such a position as this, men have been compelled to

remain during many hours in places where the thermometer falls every

night in the year below freezing point, and where the most intense

darkness--whilst it fails to hide the real dangers, conjures up

imaginary ones, which multiply all the horrors of the scene.

There are some portions of Upper Peru which are yet comparatively

unknown to Europeans. This is especially the case with that part of it

which has declared itself an independent republic, under the name of

Bolivia. Though possessing a coast town on the Pacific of considerable

extent, with several good harbors, yet its singular formation precludes

ranch intercourse with other countries. Between the Andes and the sea is

a broad belt of barren desert; a sand plain in continual motion. This is

traversed by a few small rivers; which, though very shallow and often

dry during the summer months, render the strips of soil through which

they pass extremely fruitful. Beyond this desert, the most inaccessible

chain in the Andes rises and forbids approach to the fair country

enclosed within. On the summit of this chain is the celebrated mountain

Potosi, now nearly exhausted of its treasures: the town is situated in a

district wholly destitute of vegetation. Passing from the Ceno de Pasco

through the town of Larma, we enter the valley of Janja, and shortly

find ourselves in a country presenting a strange contrast to the one we

have just left. A succession of the most fertile valleys in the world.

As the ascent of the mountain commences from the low country, the sandy

desert disappears. A rich coat of lucerne spreads over the sheltered

hollows. Vines and olives appear in the vales. The sugar-cane, the

banana, the guava, and numberless tropical fruits flourish. At the

height of eight, and sometimes ten thousand feet, Los Vales of Bolivia

are covered with the most luxurious vegetation. Forest-trees of gigantic

size are thickly spread over the mountains. The cereals, which live a

sickly life down by the sea, appear in these lofty valleys in full

vigor: including maize, quinna, rice, barley, with occasional patches of

wheat, though of this last the chief supply is imported out of Chili.

Rich esculents and fruits unknown in other countries are in abundance.

Amongst the former are yuca, mandive, and camotes; whilst the delicious

cherrimoya reigns supreme over them all.

The valleys of Upper Peru, of Bolivia, and of the province of Salta in

La Plata, are rich in the most valuable products. Exclusive of

minerals--which include gold, silver, copper, and lead--we have coffee,

chocolate, tobacco, cotton, indigo, cochineal, sarsaparilla, logwood,

and an infinity of similar productions. Cattle are numerous: mules and

horses abundant. And, above all, the men are noted for their generosity

and hospitality, and the women for their grace and beauty.

What a contrast between these glorious valleys--in which Rasselas might

well have lived--and the rugged heights of the silver city, Ceno Pasco:

its dirty streets, and half-savage people; its unhealthy mines, and

blackened smelting-furnaces; its bare rocks and scrubby patches of brown

herbage affording a scanty subsistence to its flock of shaggy llamas.

It is a charm to travelers among the Andes, that, within their limits,

these vast mountains enclose every climate. Within the range of one

degree of latitude, we may sit and burn under a palm-tree, or lie down

upon a bed of Alpine moss.

* * * * *

=BETTER DAYS.=

=BY LYDIA L. A. VERY.=

Was it a dream that came to me,

That men’s care-worn faces seemed to be

Clothed with a calm serenity--

A peaceful holiness;

A spirit’s voice, that said, no more

Shall the blood of man like water pour,

Staining the flowers on earth’s green floor,

That fain his path would bless?

Was it a vision of the night,

Making each child seem an angel bright,

Free from earth’s mildew, ain’s withering blight

That falls upon the young;

Graceful and winning everywhere,

Grown like the flowers by God’s own care,

Like them blooming as fresh and fair,

Earth’s hills and vales among?

Was it a dream, that men did feel

Themselves as brothers for wo or weal,

Seeking the wounds of life to heal

With soothing words of love;

Speaking to each as on he wends

Grasping in every hand a friend’s,

Smoothing the path of Age that tends

So tremblingly above?

Was it a dream, that woman’s lot

Was with unkindness never fraught;

That her affections ne’er were sought

To be as worthless spurned?

No dream! but ’twas a glimpse of years

Whose coming bright as the man appears,

Drying the dew of earthly tears

From eyes like flowers upturned.

The aged feel its cheering ray,

Though, like pale stars at the break of day,

Its glory comes as they pass away

Into a realm untrod!

But may the young live to behold

Those golden days so long foretold,

When each lone wand’rer to the fold

Shall be reclaimed by God!

* * * * *

=REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.=

_Reuben Medlicott, or The Coming Man. By M. W. Savage, Author of

“The Bachelor of the Albany,” etc. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1

vol. 12mo._

“The Bachelor of the Albany” was a novel in which common sense was made

to outshine and outsparkle paradox itself; and “Reuben Medlicott,”

though inferior in sustained brilliancy of execution, is a worthy

successor to the “Bachelor.” The object of the book is to exhibit the

career of a man whose head is stuffed with multifarious information, who

possesses mediocre but varied talents, and who mistakes a fluent use of

words relating to universal ideas and generalized truths for the power

to wield principles. He accordingly fails in every thing he undertakes.

He cannot connect his words with affairs; practical life refuses all

alliance with him. He becomes a lawyer, but despising details, and

aspiring to the philosophy of law, it is soon discovered that he has

neither technical knowledge nor grasp of principles. He is a great

orator at philanthropic meetings, and his friends think he will make a

great impression in Parliament. He is accordingly “put up” as a

candidate, and the description of his election is one of the most

mirth-provoking pieces of satire in the novel. He is elected, but is

remorselessly coughed down in the House. Then, like all men of his

peculiar kind, he makes a voyage to America, to see if he cannot succeed

in the land of talkers. He thinks that he has some words in his wardrobe

of verbiage which will induce the Southern States to abolish slavery. He

fails in this, also, and the author conducts him through various other

experiments to the close of his useless life. The novel is exactly

calculated for the present time, and will exercise a good influence if

generally read. The writer’s own principles are neither very lofty nor

very broad, but he has the merit of resolving all moral bubbles “into

their elemental suds.”

* * * * *

_The Eclipse of Faith; or a Visit to a Religious Sceptic.

Boston: Crosby, Nichols & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._

This volume is by professor Henry Rogers, of England, the author of some

of the ablest articles in the late numbers of the Edinburgh Review, and

a most learned, accomplished, and earnest writer on religious subjects.

The work is in the form of a dialogue, which enables the author to

represent peculiarities of character as well as opinion, and give

conversational ease to the statement of the weightiest truths. The

reasoning, also, is more readily followed from its being in the shape of

debate, our interest in the persons stimulating our attention to what

they say. The two sceptical assumptions principally assailed in the

volume are these: “that a revelation from God to men, through the agency

of a book, is an unreasonable tenet of belief; and that it is impossible

that a miracle should occur, and impossible that its occurrence should

be authenticated.” The rationalists of all classes are vigorously

assailed, Mr. Neuman, of England, and Mr. Theodore Parker, of the United

States, being the principal persons against whose theories the author

directs his argument. The style of the work is fluent and animated,

sometimes rising to eloquence, and not without some fine examples of

humor and wit. The chapter on “The Blank Bible,” is a very felicitous

specimen of the author’s power of familiarizing and popularizing his

views by striking illustrations.

* * * * *

_Ancient Egypt under the Pharaohs. By John Kenrick, A. M. New

York: Redfield. 2 vols. 12mo._

This is a very valuable work on a country which has, of late years,

increased in interest to Europeans, and been the subject of the most

painstaking and profound research. Its history is to be gathered from a

multitude of hints, which only ingenuity can interpret and follow out.

The object of Mr. Kenrick’s volumes is to give a comprehensive view of

the results of the researches of all travelers, artists, interpretators,

and critics, who have made Egyptian archæology and history their study;

and to describe, from knowledge thus obtained, “the land and the people

of Egypt, their arts and sciences, their civil institutions, and their

religions faith and usages,” and to relate their history from the

earliest records of the monarchy to its final absorption in the empire

of Alexander. The plan is an extensive one, and seems to us successfully

executed. It is the only work which combines the results to which the

many explorers of Egyptian mysteries have arrived, and may therefore be

confidently recommended to the general reader as Ancient Egypt,

“according to the latest dates.”

* * * * *

_Parisian Sights and French Principles Seen Through American

Spectacles. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo._

Few titles are more descriptive than the present. It is a view of French

society, amusements, morals, manners, and government, by an intelligent

and inquisitive American, who has glanced, with his spectacled eyes into

many nooks and corners of Parisian life, not open to the ordinary

observer. We have some doubts whether the representation is a moral one,

though seen from an American point of view, especially that portion

referring to the peculiar relations between the sexes in Paris. But

there is a great deal of innocent information given in the volume which

we have seen in no other; and the book is invaluable to the traveler as

a sort of piquant guide. The Harpers have issued it, profusely

illustrated by elegant wood-cuts, and excellently printed, for only

eighty-three cents. As it is a copyright volume, this price is low even

for such cheapeners of books as they are.

* * * * *

_Philosophers and Actresses. By Arsene Houssaye. New York:

Redfield. 2 vols. 12mo._

These volumes, like those on the “Men and Women of the Eighteenth

Century,” which preceded them, are devoted to a description of the

profligate society of Paris during the reign of Louis XV., and have all

the lightness, brilliancy, and bland un-morality characteristic of their

author. The painters, sculptors, poets and philosophers of the age, are

all exhibited on their soft side, and the book demonstrates how little

the ostentatious professors of reason, who, in their writings, were

lifted so far above the prejudices and passions of mankind, were guided

by reason in their conduct. Voltaire, especially, is shown to be the

mere slave of the caprices of the several women he loved. He was worse

off than many a hen-pecked husband. The volumes are elegantly printed,

and are adorned with fine portraits of Voltaire and Madame de Parabère.

* * * * *

_Comparative Physiognomy; or Resemblances between Men and

Animals. By James W. Redfield, M. D. Illustrated by 330

Engravings. New York: Redfield. 1 vol. 8vo._

This book is exceedingly ingenious, and as brilliant and readable as it

is ingenious. The writer is bold to audacity in his criticism on men and

on classes, and every page is racy with individual peculiarities. We do

not know whether the volume is a scientific joke or not, but the

resemblances the author traces between men and animals are often very

happy, and seem to point to some occult principle of organization and

expression. Hogs, monkeys, cats, hares, foxes, lions, are made to repeat

themselves in human heads and countenances with startling effect. The

author has given us about a hundred portraits of eminent men and women,

with their animal prototypes annexed; and in addition to this he has

generalised the shape and expression of whole classes of men into one

portrait, and then, putting a pig or a fox by its side, says confidently

to the reader, “judge ye.” The book is a very amusing one, even if it

have but a fanciful value as regards the leading idea of the author’s

theory.

* * * * *

_Palissy the Potter. The Life of Bernard Palissy, of Saintes;

his Labors and Discoveries in Art and Science, etc. By Henry

Morley. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 2 vols. 16mo._

The subject of this biography is probably but little known in the United

States, though the admirable account of his life and character printed

in these elegant volumes, will doubtless make him familiar to many who

never before heard his name. He lived an eventful life between the years

1507 and 1589, “one of the obscurely great,” says Mr. Morley, “among the

prominently little” of his day. The volumes give an animated picture of

the civil and religious discords of France in the sixteenth century, in

connection with the narrative of the privations, persecutions, and

imprisonments which Palissy underwent on account of his heretical

opinions. As regards both powers of mind and honesty of character he was

undoubtedly one of the foremost men of his time; and truth owes a debt

to his biographer for rescuing his services to art, to science, to

religion, and to France, from the oblivion into which they were fast

falling. The book has the interest of a romance, and may be classed

among the most captivating biographies written during the present

century.

* * * * *

_Village Life in Egypt. With Sketches of the Saïd. By Bayle St.

John. Author of “Adventures in the Libyan Desert.” Boston:

Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 2 vols. 18mo._

A book of travels so rare and strange in its incidents and descriptions,

devoted to scenes and people so different from those coming within the

observation of ordinary travelers, and written with such thorough

knowledge of the subject, as this book of Bayle St. John, is a luxury to

read. It gives a complete insight into the poor laboring population of

Egypt, and palpably exhibits the abysses of degradation and misery into

which tyranny relentlessly plunges the people it pretends to govern. The

manners and customs which St. John describes, have sometimes the strange

effect on the imagination, which might come from reading an account of

things as they are in some other planet. The book is admirably written,

has, in its diction, that air of luxurious repose which tourists seem to

catch from the climate of Egypt, and is a worthy companion to Kinglake’s

“Eothen” and Warburton’s “Crescent and the Cross.” It is published, from

advance sheets, in Ticknor & Co.’s most elegant and tasteful style.

* * * * *

_A Journal kept during a Summer Tour, for the Children of a

Village School. By the author of “Amy Herbert,” etc. New York:

D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._

This delightful volume is divided into three parts--the first giving an

account of a tour from Ostend to the lake of Constance, the second from

the lake to the Simplon, and the third from the Simplon through Tyrol to

Genoa. It is laden with information, of especial interest to the young,

is written in a style of much clearness and simplicity, and is pervaded

by that sweet and genial tone of morality and religion, characteristic

of all the writing of Miss Sewall.

* * * * *

_Comparative Psychology of Universal Analogy. Vegetable

Portraits of Character. By M. Edgeworth Lazarus, M. D. New York:

Fowler & Wells. 1 vol. 12mo._

The ingenious author of this singular volume makes botany speak the

language of Swedenborgianism, Fourierism, mysticism, and many other isms

of the day. It is as curious a theory of symbolism as we have ever read,

and whatever may be thought of the scientific value of the writer’s

statements, they must be submitted to be exceedingly interesting and

entertaining.

* * * * *

_Men’s Wives. By William M. Thackeray. New York: D. Appleton &

Co. 1 vol. 16mo._

The articles of which this volume is made up were originally written for

Fraser’s Magazine, under the alias of George Fitz-Boodle. They have all

the unreined heartiness of wit and humor for which that periodical was

once so celebrated, and are as worthy of Thackeray’s genius as the

“Yellowplush Correspondence” itself, which was written for the same

magazine. From sly and searching satire to mirthful caricature, there is

hardly a region of the ludicrous which this little volume does not

occupy and illustrate. It forms one of the series of Appleton’s Popular

Library.

* * * * *

_The Eagle Pass; or Life on the Border. By Cora Montgomery. New

York: Geo. P. Putnam. 1 vol. 12mo._

This volume belongs to the original and copy-righted series of Putnam’s

Semi-Monthly Library, and like the other numbers, is placed at the low

price of twenty-five cents. The authoress of the present work has

written a very entertaining narrative of her experiences of Texas

border-life, and, with shrewd powers of observation and a tact for

character peculiarly feminine, she combines manly qualities of thought

and courage. Her description of Peon slavery is worthy the attention of

statesmen.

* * * * *

_Stories from Blackwood. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol.

18mo._ (_Appleton’s Popular Library._)

These stories are entitled “The First and Last Dinner,” “Malavolti,”

“The Iron Shroud,” “The Avenger,” “The Announcements and Three Rooms”,

“Nicholas Dunks,” and “Fortune-hunting Extraordinary.” Few of these are

any better in plot or style than the ordinary run of tales contributed

to American magazines. “The First and Last Dinner” and “Nicholas Dunks,”

are perhaps the best in the collection.

* * * * *

_The Lives of Wellington and Peel. From the London Times. New

York: D. Appleton & Co._ (_Appleton’s Popular Library._) _1 vol.

18mo._

The life of Wellington, in this volume, was published in The Times the

day after his death, and was written, it is said, six years ago, to be

used as soon as needed. It is quite a long and able summary of the

events of the duke’s memorable career, and will be read at present with

great interest. The life of Peel is also well-written and

discriminating.

* * * * *

=SIPS OF PUNCH.=

[Illustration: =KENSINGTON GARDENS. A POSER FOR PAPA.=

“La! Pa, dear! What is the meaning of ‘Koelruteria Paniculata;’

and why should such a little tree have such a very long name?”]

* * * * *

[Illustration: =Harry (_to Tom._) There’s one great bore

about a Watering-place--they sell such horrid Cigars.=]

* * * * *

[Illustration: =The Advantage of Sitting next to a Family Pew.=]

* * * * *

[Illustration: =“THAT IS THE QUESTION.”=

Is Weskets to be generally wore this Season?]

* * * * *

=Transcriber’s Notes:=

Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Punctuation has

been corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted

below. For illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete

due to condition of the originals available for preparation of the

ebook.

Page 575, the swamps of Findland ==> the swamps of Finland

Page 577, on the heighis louder ==> on the heights louder

Page 583, the thermoneter in the shade ==> the thermometer in the shade

Page 587, Mahommed is his ==> Mohammed is his

Page 590, Gutemburg ==> Gutenberg

Page 595, added missing chapter heading CHAPTER I.

Page 596, the black-hazle-blossoms are fringed ==> the

black-hazel-blossoms are fringed

Page 597, Paulina Monroe, aunt’s neice ==> Paulina Monroe, aunt’s niece

Page 597, my own neice ==> my own niece

Page 601, Ponto was was running off ==> Ponto was running off

Page 601, I think so to. ==> I think so too.

Page 603, You hav n’t asked her. ==> You haven’t asked her.

Page 604, Straffordshire ==> Staffordshire

Page 605, help- her in her sewing-plans ==> help her in her sewing-plans

Page 606, ones having pretty teeth ==> one’s having pretty teeth

Page 607, French and the Mahratian ==> French and the Mahrattas

Page 608, but Colonel Wellesly defeated ==> but Colonel Wellesley defeated

Page 610, disgracefel as well ==> disgraceful as well

Page 610, daring and and brilliant ==> daring and brilliant

Page 611, execution of Marsal Ney ==> execution of Marshal Ney

Page 611, commonality of the capiatl ==> commonality of the capital

Page 613, memories of the surving ==> memories of the surviving

Page 616, an active an energetic ==> an active and energetic

Page 617, entered the santuary. ==> entered the sanctuary.

Page 624, her trembled least ==> her trembled lest

Page 625, officer’s of the fort ==> officers of the fort

Page 626, the single white camilla ==> the single white camellia

Page 626, which I destest ==> which I detest

Page 631, words of wordly wisdom ==> words of worldly wisdom

Page 634, the children’s beadstead ==> the children’s bedstead

Page 635, quite presentible, almost ==> quite presentable, almost

Page 635, I I thought the room ==> I thought the room

Page 635, and ar n’t they sweet ==> and aren’t they sweet

Page 640, too, was too feed ==> too, was to feed

Page 640, her children heighttened ==> her children heightened

Page 641, of painted canvass, ==> of painted canvas,

Page 648, First, We see ==> First, we see

Page 650, so forciby struck the eye ==> so forcibly struck the eye

Page 653, fo I am not ==> for I am not

Page 654, of a _fêté_, ==> of a _fête_,

Page 656, was listenening to ==> was listening to

Page 656, gold of the kindom ==> gold of the kingdom

Page 658, It’s asy to see ==> It’s easy to see

Page 663, Madame de Parèbere ==> Madame de Parabère