Samuel F. B. Morse, His Letters and Journals Volume I Part 31

In a letter to his brothers written on the same day, January 7th, he says:--

"If I went no farther and should now return, what I have already seen and studied would be worth to me all the trouble and expense thus far incurred. I am more and more satisfied that my expedition was wisely planned.

"You cannot conceive how the cold is felt in Paris, and, indeed, in all France. Not that their climate is so intensely cold as ours, but their provision against the cold is so bad. Fuel is excessively high; their fireplaces constructed on the worst possible plan, looking like great ovens dug four or five feet into the wall, wasting a vast deal of heat; and then the doors and windows are far from tight; so that, altogether, Paris in winter is not the most comfortable place in the world.

"Mr. Town and I, and probably Mr. Jocelyn, set out for Italy on Monday by the way of Chalons-sur-Saone, Lyons, Avignon, and Nice. I long to get to Rome and Naples that I may commence to paint in a warm climate, and so keep warm weather with me to France again....

"I don't know what to do about writing letters for the 'Journal of Commerce.' I fear it will consume more of my time than the thing is worth, and will be such a hindrance to my professional studies that I must, on the whole, give up the thought of it. My time here is worth a guinea a minute in the way of my profession. I could undoubtedly write some interesting letters for them, but I do not feel the same ease in writing for the public that I do in writing to a friend, and, in correcting my language for the press, I feel that it is going to consume more of my time than I can spare. I will write if I can, but they must not expect it, for I find my pen and pencil are enemies to each other. I must write less and paint more. My advantages for study never appeared so great, and I never felt so ardent a desire to improve them."

Morse spent about two weeks in Paris visiting churches, picture galleries, palaces, and other show places. He finds the giraffe or camelopard the most interesting animal at the Jardin des Plantes, and he dislikes a ceiling painted by Gros: "It is allegorical, which is a cla.s.s of painting I detest." He deplores the Continental Sunday: "Oh! that we appreciated in America the value of our Sabbath; a Sabbath of rest from labor; a Sabbath of moral and religious instruction; a Sabbath the greatest barrier to those floods of immorality which have in times past deluged this devoted country in blood, and will again do it unless the Sabbath gains its ascendancy once more."

From an undated and unfinished draft of a letter to his cousin, Mrs.

Roby, we learn something of his journey from Paris to Rome, or rather of the first part of it:--

"I wrote you from Paris giving you an account of my travels to that city, and I now improve the first moments of leisure since to continue my journal. After getting our pa.s.sports signed by at least half a dozen amba.s.sadors preparatory to our long journey, we left Paris on Wednesday, January 13, at eight o'clock, for Dijon, in the diligence. The weather was very cold, and we travelled through a very uninteresting country. It seemed like a frozen ocean, the road being over an immense plain unbroken by trees or fences.

"We stopped a few moments at Melun, at Joigny and Tonnerre, which latter place was quite pretty with a fine-looking Gothic church. We found the villages from Paris thus far much neater and in better style than those on the road from Boulogne.

"Our company consisted of Mr. Town, of New York, Mr. Jocelyn, of New Haven, a very pretty Frenchwoman, and myself. The Frenchwoman was quite a character; she could not talk English nor could we talk French, and yet we were talking all the time, and were able to understand and be understood.

"At four o'clock the next morning we _dined!!_ at Montbar, which place we entered after much detention by the snow. It was so deep that we were repeatedly stopped for some time. At a picturesque little village, called Val de Luzon, where we changed horses, the country began to a.s.sume a different character. It now became mountainous, and, had the season been propitious, many beautiful scenes for the pencil would have presented themselves. As it was, the forms of the mountains and the deep valleys, with villages snugly situated at the bottom, were grateful to the eye amidst the white shroud which everywhere covered the landscape. We could but now and then catch a glimpse of the scenery through our coach window by thawing a place in the thickly covered gla.s.s, which was so plated with the arborescent frost as not to yield to the warmth of the sun at midday.

"We arrived at Dijon at nine o'clock on Sat.u.r.day evening, after three days and two nights of fatiguing riding. The diligence is, on the whole, a comfortable carriage for travelling. I can scarcely give you any idea of its construction; it is so unlike in many respects to our stage-coach.

It is three carriage-bodies together upon one set of wheels. The forward part is called the _coupe_, which holds but three persons, and, from having windows in front so that the country is seen as you travel, is the most expensive. The middle carriage is the largest, capable of holding six persons, and is called the _interieur_. The other, called the _derriere_, is the cheapest, but is generally filled with low people. The _interieur_ is so large and so well cus.h.i.+oned that it is easy to sleep in it ordinarily, and, had it not been for the sudden stops occasioned by the clogging of the wheels in the snow, we should have had very good rest; but the discordant music made by the wheels as they ground the frozen snow, sounding like innumerable instruments, mostly discordant, but now and then concordant, prevented our sound sleep.

"The cold we found as severe as any I have usually experienced in America. The snow is as deep upon the hills, being piled up on each side of the road five or six feet high. The water in our pitchers froze by the fireside, and the gla.s.s on the windows, even in rooms comfortably warmed, was encrusted with arborescent frost. The floors, too, of all the rooms are paved with bricks or tiles, and, although comfortable in summer, are far from desirable in such a winter.

"At Dijon we stopped over the Sabbath, for the double purpose of avoiding travelling on that day and from really needing a day of rest. On Sunday morning we enquired of our landlord, Mons. Ripart, of the Hotel du Parc, for a Protestant church, and were informed that there was not any in the place. We learned, however, afterwards that there was one, but too late to profit by the information. We walked out in the cold to find some church, and, entering a large, irregular Gothic structure, much out of repair, we pressed towards the altar where the funeral service of the Catholic Church was performing over a corpse which lay before it. The priests, seven or eight in number, were in the midst of their ceremonies.

They had their hair shorn close in front, but left long behind and at the sides, and powdered, and, while walking, covered partially with a small, black, pyramidal velvet cap with a tuft at the top. While singing the service they held long, lighted wax tapers in their hands. There was much ceremony, but scarcely anything that was imposing; its heartlessness was so apparent, especially in the conduct of some of the a.s.sistants, that it seemed a solemn mockery. One in particular, who seemed to pride himself on the manner in which he vociferated 'Amen,' was casting his eyes among the crowd, winking and laughing at various persons, and, from the extravagance of his manners, bawling out most irreverently and closing by laughing, I wondered that he was not perceived and rebuked by the priests.

"As the procession left the church it was headed by an officer bearing a pontoon;[1] then one bearing the silver crucifix; then eight or ten boys with lighted wax tapers by the side of the corpse; then followed the priests, six or eight in number, and then the relatives and friends of the deceased. At the grave the priests and a.s.sistants chanted a moment, the coffin was lowered, the earth thrown upon it, and then an elder priest muttered something over the grave, and, with an instrument consisting of a silver ball with a small handle, made the sign of the cross over the body, which ceremony was repeated by each one in the procession, to whom in succession the instrument was handed.

[Footnote 1: This must be a mistake.]

"There were, indeed, two or three real mourners. One young man in particular, to whom the female might have been related as wife or sister, showed all the signs of heartfelt grief. It did not break out into extravagant gesture or loud cries, but the tears, as they flowed down his manly face, seemed to be forced out by the agony within, which he in vain endeavored to suppress. The struggle to restrain them was manifest, and, as he made the sign of the cross at the grave in his turn, the feebleness with which he performed the ceremony showed that the anguish of his heart had almost overcome his physical strength. I longed to speak to him and to sympathize with him, but my ignorance of the language of his country locked me out from any such purpose....

"Accustomed to the proper and orderly manner of keeping the Sabbath so universal in our country, there are many things that will strike an American not only as singular but disgusting. While in Paris we found it to be customary, not only on week days but also on the Sabbath, to have musicians introduced towards the close of dinner, who play and sing all kinds of songs. We supposed that this custom was a peculiarity of the capital, but this day after dinner a hand-organ played waltzes and songs, and, as if this were not enough, a performer on the guitar succeeded, playing songs, while two or three persons with long cards filled with specimens of natural history--lobsters, crabs, and sh.e.l.ls of various kinds--were busy in displaying their handiwork to us, and each concluded his part of the ceremony by presenting a little cup for a contribution."

The letter ends here, and, as I have found but few more of that year, we must depend on his hurriedly written notebooks for a further record of his wanderings.

Leaving Dijon on January 18, Morse and his companions continued their journey through Chalons-sur-Saone, to Macon and Lyons, which they reached late at night. The next two days were spent in viewing the sights of Lyons, which are described at length in his journal. Most of these notes I shall omit. Descriptions of places and of scenery are generally tiresome, except to the authors of them, and I shall transcribe only such portions as have a more than ordinary personal or historic interest. For instance the following entry is characteristic of Morse's simple religious faith:--

"From the Musee we went to the Hotel Dieu, a hospital on a magnificent and liberal scale. The apartments for the sick were commodiously and neatly arranged. In one of them were two hundred and twelve cots, all of which showed a pale or fevered face upon the pillow. The attendants were women called 'Sisters of Charity,' who have a peculiar costume. These are benevolent women who (some of them of rank and wealth) devote themselves to ministering to the comfort and necessities of the wretched.

"Benevolence is a trait peculiarly feminine. It is seen among women in all countries and all religions, and although true religion sets out this jewel in the greatest beauty, yet superst.i.tion and false religions cannot entirely destroy its l.u.s.tre. It seems to be one of those virtues permitted in a special manner by the Father of all good to survive the ruins of sin on earth, and to withstand the attacks of Satan in his attempts on the happiness of man; and to woman in a marked manner He has confided the keeping of this virtue. She was first in the transgression but last at the cross."

Leaving Lyons at four o'clock on the morning of the 22d, they journeyed slowly towards Avignon, delayed by the condition of the roads covered by an unusual fall of snow which was now melting under the breath of a warm breeze from the south. On the way they pa.s.s "between the two hills a telegraph making signals." This was, of course, a semaph.o.r.e by means of which visual signals were made.

Reaching Avignon on the night of the 23d, they went the next day, which was Sunday, in search of a Protestant church, but none was to be found in this ancient city of the Popes, so they followed a fine military band to the church of St. Agricola and attended the services there, the band partic.i.p.ating and making most glorious music.

Morse, with his Puritan background and training, was not much edified by the ritual of the Catholic Church, and, after describing it, he adds:--

"I looked around the church to ascertain what was the effect upon the mult.i.tude a.s.sembled. The females, kneeling in their chairs, many with their prayer-books reading during the whole ceremony, seemed part of the time engaged in devotional exercises. Far be it from me to say there were not some who were actually devout, hard as it is to conceive of such a thing; but this I will say, that everything around them, instead of aiding devotion, was calculated entirely to destroy it. The imagination was addressed by every avenue; music and painting pressed into the service of--not religion but the contrary--led the mind away from the contemplation of all that is practical in religion to the charms of mere sense. No instruction was imparted; none seems ever to be intended. What but ignorance can be expected when such a system prevails?...

"Last evening we were delighted with some exquisite sacred music, sung apparently by men's voices only, and slowly pa.s.sing under our windows.

The whole effect was enchanting; the various parts were so harmoniously adapted and the taste with which these unknown minstrels strengthened and softened their tones gave us, with the recollection of the music at the church, which we had heard in the morning, a high idea of the musical talent of this part of the world. We have observed more beautiful faces among the women in a single day in Avignon than during the two weeks we were in Paris."

After a three days' rest in Avignon, visiting the palace of the Popes and other objects of interest, and being quite charmed with the city as a whole and with the Hotel de l'Europe in particular, the little party left for Ma.r.s.eilles by way of Aix. The air grows balmier as they near the Mediterranean, and they are delighted with the vineyards and the olive groves. The first sight of the blue sea and of the beautiful harbor of Ma.r.s.eilles rouses the enthusiasm of the artist, and some days are spent in exploring the city.

The journal continues:--

"_Thursday, January 28._ Took our seats in the Malle Poste for Toulon and experienced one of those vexations in delay which travellers must expect sometimes to find. We had been told by the officer that we must be ready to go at one o'clock. We were, of course, ready at that time, but not only were we not called at one, but we waited in suspense until six o'clock in the evening before we were called, and before we left the city it was seven o'clock; thus consuming a half-day of daylight which we had promised ourselves to see the scenery, and bringing all our travelling in the night, which we wished specially to avoid. Besides this, we found ourselves in a little, miserable, jolting vehicle that did not, like the diligence, suffer us to sleep.

"Thus we left Ma.r.s.eilles, pursuing our way through what seemed to us a wild country, with many a dark ravine on our roadside and impending cliffs above us; a safe resort for bandits to annoy the traveller if they felt disposed."

At Toulon they visited the a.r.s.enal and navy yard.

"We saw many s.h.i.+ps of all cla.s.ses in various states of equipment, and every indication, from the activity which pervaded every department, that great attention is paying by the French to their marine. Their s.h.i.+ps have not the neatness of ours; there seems to be a great deal of ornament, and such as I should suppose was worse than useless in a s.h.i.+p of war.

"We noticed the galley slaves at work; they had a peculiar dress to mark them. They were dressed in red frocks with the letters 'G a l' stamped on each side of the back, as they were also on their pantaloons. The worst sort, those who had committed murder, had been s.h.i.+pped lately to Brest.

Those who had been convicted twice had on a green cap; those who were ordinary criminals had on a red cap; and those who were least criminal, a blue cap.

"A great mortality was prevailing among them. There are about five hundred at this place, and I was told by the sentinel that twenty-two had been buried yesterday. Three bodies were carried out whilst we were in the yard. We, of course, did not linger in the vicinity of the hospitals....

"On Sat.u.r.day, January 30, we left Toulon in a _voiture_ or private carriage, the public conveyances towards Italy being now uncertain, inconvenient, and expensive. There were five of us and we made an agreement in writing with a _vetturino_ to carry us to Nice, the first city in Italy, for twenty-seven francs each, the same as the fare in the diligence, to which place he agreed to take us in two days and a half. Of course necessity obliges us in this instance to travel on the Sabbath, which we tried every means in our power to avoid.

"At twelve we stopped at the village of Cuers, an obscure, dirty place, and stopped at an inn called 'La Croix d'Or' for breakfast. We here met with the first gross imposition in charges that occurred to us in France.

Our _dejeuner_ for five consisted of three cups of miserable coffee, without milk or b.u.t.ter; a piece of beef stewed with olives for two; mutton chops for five; eggs for five; some cheese, and a meagre dessert of raisins, hazel nuts, and olives, with a bottle of sour _vin ordinaire;_ and for this we were charged fifteen francs, or three francs each, while at the best hotels in Paris, and in all the cities through which we pa.s.sed, we had double the quant.i.ty of fare, and of the best kind, for two francs and sometimes for one and one half francs. All parleying with the extortionate landlord had only the effect of making him more positive and even insolent; and when we at last threw him the money to avoid further detention, he told us to mark his house, and, with the face of a demon, told us we should never enter his house again. We can easily bear our punishment. As we resumed our journey we were saluted with a shower of stones."

The journal continues and tells of the slow progress along the Riviera, through Cannes, which was then but an unimportant village; Nice, at that time belonging to Italy, and where they saw in the cathedral Charles Felix, King of Sardinia. It took them many days to climb up and down the rugged road over the mountains, while now the traveller is whisked under and around the same mountains in a few hours.

"At eleven we had attained a height of at least two thousand feet and the precipices became frightful, sweeping down into long ravines to the very edge of the sea; and then the road would wind at the edge of the precipice two or three thousand feet deep. Such scenes pa.s.s so rapidly it is impossible to make note of them.

"From the heights on which La Turbia stands, with its dilapidated walls, we see the beautiful city of Monaco, on a tongue of land extending into the sea."

The great gambling establishment of Monte Carlo did not invade this beautiful spot until many years later, in 1856.

The travellers stopped for a few hours at Mentone,--"a beautiful place for an artist,"--pa.s.sed the night at San Remo, and, sauntering thus leisurely along the beautiful Riviera, arrived in Genoa on the 6th of February.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JEREMIAH EVARTS From a portrait painted by Morse owned by Sherman Evarts, Esq.]

CHAPTER XVI

FEBRUARY 6, 1880--JUNE 15, 1830