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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hospital Sketches, by Robert Swain Peabody
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hospital Sketches
+
+Author: Robert Swain Peabody
+
+Release Date: February 15, 2011 [EBook #35289]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOSPITAL SKETCHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
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+
+HOSPITAL SKETCHES
+
+1916
+
+
+
+
+HOSPITAL SKETCHES
+
+BY
+
+ROBERT SWAIN PEABODY
+
+
+          BOSTON & NEW YORK
+          HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
+          _The Riverside Press Cambridge_
+          1916
+
+
+
+
+          COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY ROBERT SWAIN PEABODY
+          ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+          _Published December 1916_
+
+
+          "_Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
+            Enwrought with golden and silver light,
+            The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
+            Of night and light and the half light;
+            I would spread the cloths under your feet:
+            But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
+            I have spread my dreams under your feet;
+            Tread softly because you tread on my dreams._"
+                                               W. B. YEATS.
+
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENTS are made to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for
+permission to use a passage from Edith Wharton's _Fighting France_ and
+to The Macmillan Company for the use of the poem "Aedh wishes for the
+Cloths of Heaven," by W. B. Yeats.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  INTRODUCTION                                              ix
+
+  VIEW FROM THE HOSPITAL TERRACE                             1
+
+  UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+      I. The Minster and the Meadows                         3
+     II. The Church Yard                                     7
+    III. The Village                                        11
+     IV. The Hall                                           15
+      V. Trong's Almshouses                                 19
+
+  RANCONEZZO
+     VI. The Town and the Lake                              23
+    VII. Piazza Garibaldi                                   27
+   VIII. Piazza Cavour                                      31
+     IX. North Door of the Duomo                            35
+      X. Interior of the Duomo                              39
+     XI. The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti        43
+    XII. Santa Prassede, the Cardinal's Church              47
+   XIII. The Cloisters of Sta Prassede                      51
+    XIV. The Tomb of the Cardinal in Sta Prassede           55
+
+  ROCHER-ST.-POL
+     XV. The Town and the River Merle                       59
+    XVI. La Grande Rue and La Place de la République        63
+   XVII. L'escalier de Jacob                                67
+  XVIII. Le Parvis de Ste Frédigonde                        71
+    XIX. Interior of the Church of Ste Frédigonde           75
+     XX. Sacristy Steps in the Church of Ste Frédigonde     79
+    XXI. The Château Beaumesnil                             83
+   XXII. La Tour de la Dame Blanche                         87
+
+  AEGINASSOS
+  XXIII. The Temple and the Forum                           91
+   XXIV. The Temple and the Forum                           95
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+                                              JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL,
+                                               BALTIMORE, MARYLAND,
+                                                _December, 1915._
+
+ONE of my good friends, a stanch upholder of what to him is "The
+Catholic Church," looks back to the thirteenth century as marking the
+highest tide of Christian civilization. He longs for a restoration (but
+under other rule) of that monastic life which then gave shelter to Art,
+Science, Learning, and Religion. It does not appear that this longing is
+coupled with any regret for the exceptionally happy domestic life with
+which he personally has been blessed. Probably his hopes are that even
+if he establishes, others will maintain, that monastic life and
+discipline which, duly purified from Ultramontane tendencies, he thinks
+would be so uplifting and beneficial to our times.
+
+However that may be, if he is ever immured for many weeks in a great
+hospital, he will be surprised to find how many are the similarities
+between its life, its discipline and its atmosphere, and those of the
+great monasteries. I mean those mediæval houses which spread from the
+parent at Monte Cassino to Citeaux and Cluny and Vezelay and thence to
+far-away parts of Europe, and which were even more abundant in England
+where the ruins of the Yorkshire Abbeys still attest to their former
+power. When the time is ripe for the change longed for by our friend he
+will find that very slight additions to a modern hospital will give him
+what he wants in great perfection.
+
+Grateful though I am to them--deeply grateful--yet I know little of the
+personal history of the founder of this great hospital which now
+shelters me, or of that "Diamond Jim Brady" who built and endowed this
+noble wing. Still, I feel sure that in many ways these benefactors to
+their race made their gifts under much the same conditions as those
+barons and nobles of old who, led by some deep feeling, devoted their
+wealth to the saving, not only of their own souls, but of the souls and
+bodies of their fellow men.
+
+Moreover, if the benefactors who founded and endowed this hospital
+resembled the men and women who made possible the powerful monasteries
+of the Middle Ages, there is also a resemblance to be found between the
+service that the monks rendered in their day to humanity and knowledge
+and that devotion which to-day inspires the staff of a great modern
+hospital. In this very building are housed and in constant attendance a
+large number of doctors, surgeons and orderlies. Their quarters, though
+in many ways like those in a modern club, are almost equally like the
+cells of a great monastery. There probably is not one of the staff who
+was not turned to his profession in some degree by the thought that it
+would make him of service to mankind. In another wing live several
+hundred nurses. The strength and health and happiness which appear in
+the faces of these young women attest to the good effect for women as
+well as for men of discipline and regular attention to duty. What a
+shining example is theirs of faithful and altruistic service to
+suffering humanity! Indeed a generous, helpful and encouraging spirit
+pervades all the men and women who form the staff of the hospital.
+Theirs is a single-minded and unwearying attention which no monks could
+have excelled, nor could the monasteries ever have offered a wider
+charity than that which makes white and colored, Hebrew and Gentile,
+poor and rich all objects of the kindly help of a skilful and devoted
+company.
+
+I know that the kernel and very centre of the monastery was the lighted
+altar in the chapel where daily the sacred mysteries were enacted. That
+is what our friend will need to add to his perfected institution;--and
+yet--and yet--I doubt if the atmosphere will be very different when that
+is done. Although this place is world-famous as a centre of scientific
+research and of applied science,--though, in general, religion here is
+worked out in terms of service,--yet there are signs that the spirit has
+recognition as well as the physical body. To-day, in the great entrance
+rotunda stands a colossal and impressive statue of Christ, his hands
+outstretched welcoming the weary and the heavy-laden. The several
+hundred nurses have daily prayers together before they begin their
+unselfish work. At the dawn of Christmas morning, the doctors, nurses
+and orderlies make the halls resound with the carols suited to the day;
+and we hear how one convalescent who was praising his doctor's power
+over his ailments was surprised by the reply, "It was another power than
+mine that did it!" Perhaps he meant that miraculous servant Radium;
+perhaps he meant Nature herself; perhaps he meant something beyond
+these. He did not explain.
+
+This devotion with which the staff is consecrated to altruistic labor is
+met by a spirit of buoyant gratitude from those on whom they minister.
+Our ward is vibrant with it. Perhaps this is not true at the very first.
+The patient arrives in misery. For a few days he is perhaps made even
+more miserable. But during this time he is in seclusion and not visible
+to his comrades. Soon he rallies. In bed or wheel chair he joins other
+convalescents on the roof terrace. They compare notes over their
+operations. They settle among themselves all those great pending
+questions which have been engrossing the active outside world and,
+looking forward to returning health and strength, a very joyous spirit
+pervades the group. These not too inviting surroundings abound,
+therefore, in a hearty thankfulness--a thankfulness abundant and
+sincere, and not unlike what it would be if it were offered amid solemn
+rites and with majestic music before the glowing altar of a monastery.
+
+But in these early days of seclusion the lonely patient has opportunity
+for much thinking. Lying in bed in a room which, as a recent writer
+described it, is richly decorated with a white ceiling, four white
+walls, a door, a window and a floor, he has indeed time for thought and
+for thought without distraction.
+
+Surrounded as he is by the sick and the maimed, perhaps one of the first
+subjects on which he is led to ponder is the mystery of Pain. What does
+it all mean that a God otherwise beneficent should impose on the
+creatures he has brought into the world illness and suffering? Even
+Prince Siddartha wondered at it:
+
+          "Since if, all powerful, he leaves it so,
+           He is not good; and if not powerful,
+           He is not God?"
+
+In better mood the patient may wonder whether his personal share of pain
+is in any sense a penance or atonement for his own past sins. This is a
+thought which is natural and acceptable perhaps to most minds. But the
+Saints and Martyrs testifying to their faith went farther and not only
+submitted to but gladly sought pain and suffering. Now pain and agony
+well endured undoubtedly strengthen character. Have we not a vivid
+example of this before us in the catastrophe of the European war; a war
+which is saved from being wholly evil and dreadful because out of it has
+come the spiritual regeneration of the allied nations who are engulfed
+in it? Still it can hardly be expected that ordinary flesh and blood
+should in this world, so full of love and beauty, invite and seek out
+suffering and disaster even in order to bear them bravely. Enough for
+most of us that if doomed to walk with them we
+
+          "Turn the necessity to glorious gain."
+
+But all the same it must be a happy thing for a sufferer if he can hope
+with the Martyrs that pain borne with fortitude may be offered as a
+sacrifice and atonement.
+
+In these dull and lonely moments also one inevitably asks whether it is
+true that people exist who are stolid to pain? One may consecrate it
+before it comes and after it goes, but to most of us feeble folk pain
+when present occupies the whole limelight and leaves the rest of the
+stage in darkness! The only inmate of the hospital who stirred my temper
+was a patient who on making a rapid recovery from what he described as
+a very severe operation said he had refused ether and did not mind pain.
+I regained my equanimity when an orderly confided to me that the
+operation had been slight!
+
+In health one is apt to think that Love is the great motive power of
+humanity. In illness and suffering Pain seems the great and pressing
+problem. They often go hand in hand and perhaps it is true that without
+them both life has not rendered its full wealth or its perfect
+discipline. "The ennobling depths of pain" need also "the purifying fire
+of love" to round out a perfect character.
+
+          "Incomprehensibly Love's will doth move
+           Through this blind world in ways we cannot see,
+           Death giving birth to life. So does deep sorrow
+           Give birth to rarer joy on some glad morrow."
+
+These and many such questions can be as solemn, as perplexing and as
+engrossing as any that exercised the inmates of the Monastery to which
+we here find so much resemblance. As a contrast to such heart-searching
+thoughts the patient can wonder at the properties of that radium by
+which he may have been treated. How astonishing is it that this atom of
+matter should constantly emit rays which search out and destroy evil
+tissues and leave unharmed the good; and that they do this without any
+perceptible diminution of energy! How contrary this is to all we have
+hitherto known of the conservation of energy and of the impossibility
+of obtaining perpetual motion or continued power! What is so contrary to
+our preconceived ideas proves itself, however, by experience efficient
+in an almost supernatural or miraculous manner. Perhaps fatigued by
+these thoughts the patient can turn from them and closing his eyes begin
+to count "The flock of sheep that leisurely pass by one after one" and
+by happy chance submit himself to sleep.
+
+The roof terrace has a wide view over the City of Baltimore, as well as
+of the heavens which encompass it. We sit there in our wheel chairs or
+lie tucked up in our rolling beds and talk flows freely. We watch the
+flocks of pigeons making endless circles in the upper air; the black and
+solemn buzzards hanging above us unmoved though the gale blow ever so
+fiercely; the cloud shadows moving over the panorama; the haze of mist
+and steam and smoke floating over the City; the ever-changing pageant of
+fleeting clouds and blue sky and blazing sunsets. At one time--
+
+          "And when the wind from place to place
+           Doth the unmoored cloud galleons chase"--
+
+we follow the white fleets as they sail away towards the south, ever
+replaced by new armadas surging up and over the northern horizon. At
+another time in range beyond range of snowy clouds, we see rise before
+us the Delectable Mountains beyond which is the Land of Beulah where the
+shining ones go to and fro as messengers to the Celestial City.
+
+It is said that an eye unused to the telescope cannot see the canals on
+the planet Mars, but that through the same instrument they are plainly
+visible to an eye trained to such observation. Sometimes, when the
+clouds have hung in white masses over the city, I have been eager to see
+what was hidden by those luminous walls, but my untrained eyes could not
+pierce them. Day after day, however, I became more familiar with them.
+Others before now, without journeying like Columbus to prove the truth
+of his visions, have, even by their own firesides, enjoyed Castles in
+the Air and Châteaux and great possessions in Spain. In like manner as
+the breeze moved the silver edges of the clouds, I had unexpectedly
+through the rifts views of strange lands and fair cities which I had
+never before seen or heard of. As they were indeed lovely, in all haste
+I tried to make rapid notes of them to prove the truth of my strange
+experience.
+
+Far to the north over Homewood, a pile of mountainous clouds was rent
+for a short space by the breeze, and disclosed a Minster in a meadow
+land. Its name seemed to be Upthorpe-cum-Regis. Its tower rose before me
+over the busy life of the town and looked down on the mansion of the
+Squire and the house of the Dean. Close around the walls of the Minster,
+indeed within sound of its prayers and anthems, were clustered the
+graves of the dead,--the former generations who had made the life of the
+town and who built the church and worshipped at its altar. It was a town
+in which the characters described by Trollope or George Eliot or Jane
+Austen would have felt themselves at home.
+
+Again when a sunset was filling the western sky with "the incomparable
+pomp of eve," a break in the clouds above the gilded towers of Cardinal
+Gibbons's Cathedral disclosed an Italian town on a lovely lake shore.
+Boats with colored sails lined the Riva of Ranconezzo. Two piazzas
+teeming with life surrounded the Duomo or Cathedral and from them there
+were wide views over lake and mountain scenery. It appears that in the
+long ago, the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti was the benefactor of this
+town, and there on the hillside, tree embowered, was his villa with its
+little port for the lake boats. His tomb I also saw, not in the Duomo,
+but in the Bramantesque Church of Santa Prassede, a building resembling
+the many small churches in northern Italy due to the refined influence
+of Bramante. In my dreaming I entered the church, and found that the
+great Cardinal lies beneath a tomb carved by Mino da Fiesole on the
+north side of Santa Prassede.
+
+Then on a cool and crisp day when clouds were scudding through the sky,
+between them there was revealed to me a French town that seemed to bear
+the name of Rocher-St.-Pol. There was the river Merle winding its way
+through meadow and woodland. A range of hills bounded the horizon and
+from the plain rose the Rock. Not far away the ruined castle of "La Dame
+Blanche" crowned a steep hill, and close to the town was the Château
+Beaumesnil, beetling over the wooded hillside and bristling with conical
+towers and burnished girouettes. The Grande Rue of Rocher-St.-Pol I saw
+winding between gabled and half-timbered houses towards the church on
+the summit, and finally a long flight of stairs called by the people
+Jacob's ladder brings the pilgrim to the terrace in front of the church
+door. The interior of Ste. Frédigonde showed me the same period of
+French Gothic which marks the cathedrals of Notre Dame at Paris and
+Rheims. Coming out from Jacob's ladder upon the Parvis, there was a wide
+view over the meadows and the river. At the moment when the cathedral
+door was disclosed to me, a procession of clergy bearing sacred relics
+emerged from the church. It passed between the ranks of prophets and
+martyrs whose effigies flank the portal, and vanished with its banners
+and vestments down the long incline of Jacob's ladder towards the old
+town.
+
+And finally came a dismal day, at the end of which the west was lined
+with long streaks of red, and, just before sunset, through a lengthened
+break in the gray, I seemed to see an Island in the far Ægean. I think
+it must have been somewhere between the Ægina that looks across the
+waters to the Athenian Acropolis and the Assos which my friends in their
+youth dug from its grave. Let us call it Æginassos. Its buildings as I
+dimly saw them are in a remarkable condition of preservation. The white
+temple stood out on a promontory over the sea, and brought back to
+memory the temple-crowned headland at Sunium. Higher on the
+mountain-side was the Forum with its terraces and long colonnades. Steep
+and winding paths descended to the ancient port, and far across the
+water rose the heights of the Isles of Greece.
+
+Here are the records of what I was privileged to see from the roof
+terrace of the Hospital. Made in bed or wheel chair and depending on the
+passing imagination of an invalid, the sketches are of necessity crude.
+Would that instead they were like the work of Claude or Turner, who were
+the great experts at seeing visions in the clouds and in transferring
+them to their paper! These drawings will, however, be a reminder that
+idle hours can be passed happily even during a long captivity! Opposite
+each drawing I have placed some quotations from various writers.
+Although these do not describe with exactness the places which no eye
+but mine has seen, yet they do picture others very like those which I
+saw from the hospital terrace.
+
+A day at last arrived when the patient was suddenly released. After
+being the object of tender care for many weeks the outer world seemed
+very large and very hustling. It was with a certain timidity and almost
+with reluctance that facing it all he left the peaceful quiet of the
+Johns Hopkins Hospital.
+
+
+          SKETCHES
+          AT
+          THE
+          JOHNS HOPKINS
+          HOSPITAL
+
+[Illustration:
+
+          "So shall the drudge in dusty frock
+           Spy behind the city clock
+           Retinues of airy things
+           Troops of angels, starry wings,
+           His fathers shining in bright fables
+           His children fed at heavenly tables."
+                                      OCTOBER 1915]
+
+
+
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+
+THE RIVER
+
+IT was one of their happy mornings. They trotted along and sat down
+together, with no thought that life would ever change much for them;
+they would only get bigger and not go to school, and it would be always
+like the holiday; they would always live together and be fond of each
+other. And the mill with its booming--the great chestnut tree under
+which they played at house--their own little river, the Ripple, where
+the banks seemed like home, and Tom was always seeing water-rats while
+Maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the reeds which she forgot, and
+dropped afterwards--above all, the great Floss, along which they
+wandered with a sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide, the
+awful Eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the Great Ash
+which had once wailed and groaned like a man--these things would always
+be just the same to them. Tom thought people were at a disadvantage who
+lived in any other spot of the globe; and Maggie when she read about
+Christiana passing "the river over which there is no bridge," always saw
+the Floss between the green pastures by the Great Ash.
+
+                                                      GEORGE ELIOT.
+
+[Illustration: I
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Minster and the Meadows_]
+
+
+THE MINSTER
+
+  STRONG as time, and as faith sublime,--clothed round with
+      shadows of hopes and fears,
+  Nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion
+      of prayers and tears,--
+  Stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing
+      and waning years.
+  Tower set square to the storms of air and change of season
+      that blooms and glows,
+  Wall and roof of it tempest proof, and equal even to suns
+      and snows,
+  Bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as
+      a straight stem grows.
+                                              A. SWINBURNE.
+
+
+ELEGY
+
+          NOW fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
+          And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
+          Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
+          And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade
+          Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap
+          Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+          The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
+          The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
+          The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
+          No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
+                                                 GRAY.
+
+
+THE CHURCHYARD
+
+IT was a very quiet place, as such a place should be, save for the
+cawing of the rooks who had built their nest among the branches of some
+tall old trees, and were calling to one another, high up in the air.
+First one sleek bird, hovering near his ragged house as it swung and
+dangled in the wind, uttered his hoarse cry, quite by chance as it would
+seem, and in a sober tone as though he were but talking to himself.
+Another answered, and he called again, but louder than before; then
+another spoke and then another; and each time the first, aggravated by
+contradiction, insisted on his case more strongly. Other voices, silent
+till now, struck in from boughs lower down and higher up and midway, and
+to the right and left, and from the tree-tops; and others arriving
+hastily from the grey church turrets and old belfry window, joined the
+clamour which rose and fell, and swelled and dropped again, and still
+went on; and all this noisy contention amidst a skimming to and fro, and
+lighting on fresh branches, and frequent changes of place, which
+satirized the old restlessness of those who lay so still beneath the
+moss and turf below, and the useless strife in which they had worn away
+their lives.
+
+                                                  CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+
+[Illustration: II
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Church Yard_]
+
+
+THE PARSON
+
+AS I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good
+man whom I have just now mentioned? and without staying for my answer
+told me, that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at
+his own table; for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at
+the university to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than
+much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and,
+if possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon. "My friend,"
+says Sir Roger, found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments
+required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not
+show it. I have given him the parsonage of the parish; and because I
+know his value, have settled on him a good annuity for life. . . .
+
+At his first settling with me, I made him a present of all the good
+sermons which have been printed in English, and only begged of him that
+every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly
+he has digested them into such a series, that they follow one another
+naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity.
+
+As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking of
+came up to us, and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow,
+for it was Saturday night, told us, the bishop of St. Asaph in the
+morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then showed us his list of
+preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure,
+Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with
+several living authors who have published discourses of practical
+divinity.
+
+                                                       ADDISON.
+
+
+THE SWAN INN
+
+LAST night I lay at the Swan Inn in Lathbury town. A sad night I had of
+it! My chamber was warmed fair enough by a fire of sea coal. There was a
+sweet smell of lavender in the sheets which a hot warming pan had also
+made comfortable. All this promised well, but Polly had forgot to put my
+silk night cap into my saddlebags! That vexed me sore! All night I felt
+I was taking a rheum. Some clodhoppers roystering in the tap room
+forbade sleep at first and as I am not wont to hear the quarters
+stricken the Abbey bells roused me at frequent intervals and made me
+swear roundly. About midnight the Royal Mail rolled over the bridge with
+a noise fit to wake the Seven Sleepers! The hoof beats of its cattle
+echoed on the stone walls of the houses like a salute by His Majesty's
+Footguards! How I ached for my quiet chambers in the Temple. At length I
+fell to sleep and so sound that when I waked the sun had long been
+shining through my lattice. I was late in meeting the Squire and the
+Vicar, and that too after making express this arduous ride. Indeed I was
+vexed--and I showed it.
+
+                                             SWAIN'S _Old Salop._
+
+
+THE Swan is a venerable and rambling building, stretching itself lazily
+with outspread arms; one of those inns (long may they be preserved from
+the rebuilders!) on which one stumbles up or down into every room, and
+where eggs and bacon have an appropriateness that make them a more
+desirable food than ambrosia. The little parlor is wainscotted with the
+votive paintings--a village Diploma Gallery--of artists who have made
+the Swan their home.
+
+                                                E. V. LUCAS.
+
+[Illustration: III
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Village_]
+
+
+ONE almost expects to see a fine green moss all over an inhabitant of
+Steyning. One day as I passed through the town I saw a man painting a
+new sign over a shop, a proceeding that so aroused my curiosity that I
+stood for a minute or two to look on. The painter filled in one letter,
+gave a huge yawn, looked up and down two or three times as if he had
+lost something, and finally descended from his perch and disappeared.
+Five weeks later I passed that way again, and it is a fact that the same
+man was at work on the same sign. Perhaps when the reader takes the walk
+I am about to recommend to his attention--a walk which comprises some of
+the finest scenery in Sussex--that sign will be finished, and the
+accomplished artist will have begun another; but I doubt it. There is
+plenty of time for everything in Steyning.
+
+                                                  LOUIS JENNINGS.
+
+
+THE OLD COUNTRY HOUSE
+
+IF our old English folk could not get an arched roof, then they loved
+to have it pointed, with polished timber beams on which the eye rested
+as on looking upwards through a tree. Their rooms they liked of many
+shapes, and not at right angles on the corners, nor all on the same
+dead level of flooring. You had to go up a step into one, and down a
+step into another, and along a winding passage into a third, so that
+each part of the house had its individuality. To these houses life
+fitted itself and grew to them; they were not mere walls, but became
+part of existence. A man's house was not only his castle, a man's
+house was himself. He could not tear himself away from his house, it
+was like tearing up the shrieking mandrake by the root, almost death
+itself. . . . Dark beams inlaid in the walls support the gables; the
+slight curve of the great beam adds, I think, to the interest of the old
+place, for it is a curve that has grown and was not premeditated; it has
+grown like the bough of a tree, not from any set human design. This too
+is the character of the house. It is not large, not overburdened with
+gables, not ornamented, not what is called striking, in any way, but
+simply an old English house, genuine and true. The warm sunlight falls
+on the old red tiles, the dark beams look the darker for the glow of
+light, the shapely cone of the hop-oust rises at the end; there are
+swallows and flowers and ricks and horses, and so it is beautiful
+because it is natural and honest. It is the simplicity that makes it so
+touching, like the words of an old ballad . . . why even a tall
+chanticleer makes a home look homely. I do like to see a tall proud
+chanticleer strutting in the yard and barely giving way as I advance,
+almost ready to do battle with a stranger like a mastiff.
+
+                                      JEFFRIES, _Buckhurst Park._
+
+[Illustration: IV
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Hall_]
+
+
+THE BEDESMEN
+
+THERE he lies, Fundator Noster, in his ruff and gown, awaiting the
+great Examination Day. . . . Yonder sit some threescore old gentlemen
+pensioners of the hospital, listening to the prayers and the psalms. You
+hear them coughing feebly in the twilight,--the old reverend blackgowns.
+. . . How solemn the well-remembered prayers are, here uttered again in
+the place where in childhood we used to hear them! How beautiful, and
+decorous the rite; how noble the ancient words of the supplications
+which the priest utters, and to which generations of fresh children and
+troops of bygone seniors have cried Amen! under those arches! The
+service for Founder's Day is a special one; one of the psalms selected
+being the thirty-seventh and we hear--
+
+23. The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he delighteth
+in his way--
+
+24. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord
+upholdeth him with his hand.
+
+25. I have been young and now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous
+forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.
+
+                                                  W. M. THACKERAY.
+
+
+HIRAM'S HOSPITAL
+
+HIRAM'S HOSPITAL, as the retreat is called, is a picturesque building
+enough, and shows the correct taste with which the ecclesiastical
+architects of those days were imbued. It stands on the banks of the
+little river, which flows nearly round the cathedral close, being on the
+side furthest from the town. The London road crosses the river by a
+pretty one-arched bridge, and looking from this bridge, the stranger
+will see the windows of the old men's rooms, each pair of windows
+separated by a small buttress. A broad gravel walk runs between the
+building and the river, which is always trim and cared for; and at the
+end of the walk, under the parapet of the approach to the bridge, is a
+large and well-worn seat, on which, in mild weather three or four of
+Hiram's bedesmen are sure to be seen seated. Beyond this row of
+buttresses, and further from the bridge and also further from the water
+which here suddenly bends, are the pretty oriel windows of Mr. Harding's
+house, and his well mown lawn. The entrance to the hospital is from the
+London road and is made through a ponderous gateway under a heavy stone
+arch, unnecessary, one would suppose, at any time, for the protection of
+twelve old men, but greatly conducive to the good appearance of Hiram's
+charity. On passing through this portal, never closed to any one from
+six A.M. till ten P.M., and never open afterwards, except on application
+to a huge, intricately hung mediæval bell, the handle of which no
+un-initiated intruder can possibly find, the six doors of the old men's
+abodes are seen, and beyond them is a slight iron screen, through which
+the more happy portion of the Barchester élite pass into the Elysium of
+Mr. Harding's dwelling.
+
+                                   ANTHONY TROLLOPE, _The Warden._
+
+[Illustration: V
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_Trong's Almshouses_]
+
+
+
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+
+SIRMIONE
+
+  ROW us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row!
+  So they row'd, and there we landed--"O venusta Sirmio!"
+  There to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow,
+  There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow,
+  Came that "Ave atque Vale" of the Poet's hopeless woe,
+  Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago,
+  "Frater Ave atque Vale"--as we wandered to and fro
+  Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the Garda lake below
+  Sweet Catullus's all-but-island, olive silvery Sirmio.
+                                          ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+[Illustration: VI
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Town and the Lake_]
+
+
+THE ITALIAN LAKES
+
+HE who loves immense space, cloud shadows sailing over purple slopes,
+island gardens, distant glimpses of snow-capped mountains, breadth, air,
+immensity, and flooding sunlight, will choose Maggiore. But scarcely has
+he cast his vote for this, the Juno of the divine rivals, when he
+remembers the triple lovelinesses of the Larian Aphrodite, disclosed in
+all their placid grace from Villa Serbelloni;--the green blue of the
+waters, clear as glass, opaque through depth; the _millefleurs_ roses
+clambering into cypresses by Cadenabbia; the laburnums hanging their
+yellow clusters from the clefts of Sasso Rancio; the oleander arcades of
+Varenna; the wild white limestone crags of San Martino, which he has
+climbed to feast his eyes with the perspective, magical, serene,
+Leonardesquely perfect, of the distant gates of Adda. Then while this
+modern Paris is yet doubting, perhaps a thought may cross his mind of
+sterner solitary Lake Iseo--the Pallas of the three. She offers her own
+attractions. The sublimity of Monte Adamello, dominating Lovere and all
+the lowland like Hesiod's hill of Virtue reared aloft above the plain of
+common life, has charms to tempt heroic lovers.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+
+PIAZZA GARIBALDI
+
+THE painter may transfer its campanile, glittering like dragon's scales,
+to his canvas. The lover of the picturesque will wander through its
+aisle at mass-time, watching the sunlight play upon those upturned
+Southern faces with their ardent eyes; and happy is he who sees young
+men and maidens on Whit Sunday crowding round the chancel rails, to
+catch the marigolds and gillyflowers scattered from baskets which the
+priest has blessed.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+
+DOWN IN THE CITY
+
+  IS it ever hot in the square? There's a fountain to spout and
+      splash!
+  In the shade it sings and springs; in the shine such foam-bows
+      flash
+  On the horses with curling fish-tails, that prance and paddle
+      and pash
+  Round the lady atop in the conch--fifty gazers do not abash,
+  Though all that she wears is some weeds round her waist in a
+      sort of a sash!
+
+  Ere opening your eyes in the city the blessed church-bells begin:
+  No sooner the bells leave off, than the diligence rattles in:
+  You get the picks of the news, and it costs you never a pin.
+  By and by there's the travelling doctor gives pills, lets blood,
+      draws teeth;
+  Or the Pulcinello-trumpet breaks up the market beneath.
+  At the post-office such a scene-picture--the new play, piping hot!
+  And a notice how, only this morning, three liberal thieves were
+      shot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Noon strikes,--here sweeps the procession! Our lady borne smiling
+      and smart
+  With a pink gauze gown all spangles, and seven swords stuck in her
+      heart!
+  _Bang, whang, whang_, goes the drum; _tootle-te-tootle_ the fife;
+  Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
+                                          ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+[Illustration: VII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Piazza Garibaldi_]
+
+
+PIAZZA CAVOUR
+
+THE changes of scene upon this tiny square are so frequent as to remind
+one of a theatre. Looking down from the inn-balcony, between the glazy
+green pots gay with scarlet amaryllis-bloom, we are inclined to fancy
+that the whole has been prepared for our amusement. In the morning the
+cover for the macaroni-flour, after being washed, is spread out on the
+bricks to dry. In the afternoon the fishermen bring their nets for the
+same purpose. In the evening the city magnates promenade and whisper.
+Dark-eyed women, with orange or crimson kerchiefs for headgear, cross
+and re-cross, bearing baskets on their shoulders. Great lazy large
+limbed fellows, girt with scarlet sashes and finished off with dark blue
+night-caps (for a contrast to their saffron-colored shirts, white
+breeches and sunburnt calves), slouch about or sleep face downwards on
+the parapets.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+[Illustration: VIII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Piazza Cavour_]
+
+
+A ROMANESQUE DOORWAY
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HOW the hand of Time has mellowed the ruddy brick and the marble's
+whiteness until ivory and rose blend and are in harmony with those
+stained and faded frescoes which still remain in the panels of the upper
+walls. Columns of veined marble stand in ranks on either side of the
+entrance. They are mounted on the backs of stiff-maned lions. Fit
+supporters are these for the arches of the Sanctuary as, at its very
+door, with claw and tooth they tear to pieces the bestial forms of vice
+and ignorance. Above rise the moulded archivolts, tier on tier, clothed
+with vine and tendril and peopled with bird and beast. These may be
+uncouth in form, but the rude hands that fashioned them learned their
+lesson at the feet of Nature. What there is of convention in arrangement
+or in pattern has flowed hither through the East from the original
+fountains of Greece and Rome but now at last all moves in freedom and
+without restraint. As in the short nights of the North sunrise follows
+fast upon the setting of the sun, so here though we see in this work the
+sunset of the Antique yet it is already aglow with light from the coming
+dawn of Mediæval Art.
+
+                                        ROBERTS, _Italian Sketches._
+
+[Illustration: IX
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_North Door of Duomo_]
+
+
+LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL
+
+FLORENCE is more noisy; indeed, I think it the noisiest town I was ever
+in. What with the continual jangling of its bells, the rattle of
+Austrian drums, and the street cries, _Ancora mi raccapriccio_. The
+Italians are a vociferous people, and most so among them the
+Florentines. Walking through a back street one day, I saw an old woman
+higgling with a peripatetic dealer, who, at every interval afforded him
+by the remarks of his veteran antagonist, would tip his head on one
+side, and shout, with a kind of wondering enthusiasm, as if he could
+hardly trust the evidence of his own senses to such loveliness, _O, che
+bellezza! che belle-e-ezza!_ The two had been contending as obstinately
+as the Greeks and Trojans over the body of Patroclus, and I was curious
+to know what was the object of so much desire on the one side and
+admiration on the other. It was a half dozen of weazeny baked pears,
+beggarly remnant of the day's traffic. . . . It never struck me before
+what a quiet people Americans are.
+
+                                             JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+WITHIN THE DUOMO
+
+THE semi-dome of the eastern apse above the high altar is entirely
+filled with a gigantic half-length figure of Christ. He raises His right
+hand to bless and with His left holds an open book on which is written
+in Greek and Latin, "I am the Light of the world." . . . Below him on a
+smaller scale are ranged the archangels and the mother of the Lord, who
+holds the child upon her knees. Thus Christ appears twice upon this
+wall, once as the Omnipotent Wisdom, the Word by whom all things were
+made, and once as God deigning to assume a shape of flesh and dwell with
+men. The magnificent image of supreme Deity seems to fill with a single
+influence and to dominate the whole building. The house with all its
+glory is his. He dwells there like Pallas in her Parthenon or Zeus in
+his Olympian temple. To left and right over every square inch of the
+cathedral blaze mosaics, which portray the story of God's dealings with
+the human race from the Creation downwards, together with those angelic
+beings and saints who symbolize each in his own degree some special
+virtue granted to mankind. The walls of the fane are therefore an open
+book of history, theology and ethics for all men to read.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+[Illustration: X
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Interior of the Duomo_]
+
+
+FROM "A LEGEND OF BRITTANY"
+
+    DEEPER and deeper shudders shook the air,
+    As the huge bass kept gathering heavily,
+    Like thunder when it rouses in its lair,
+    And with its hoarse growl shakes the low-hung sky,
+    It grew up like a darkness everywhere,
+    Filling the vast cathedral;--suddenly
+    From the dense mass a boy's clear treble broke
+    Like lightning, and the full-toned choir awoke.
+
+    Through gorgeous windows shone the sun aslant,
+    Brimming the church with gold and purple mist.
+    Meet atmosphere to bosom that rich chant,
+    Where fifty voices in one strand did twist
+    Their varicolored tones and left no want
+    To the delighted soul, which sank abyssed
+    In the warm music cloud, while, far below,
+    The organ heaved its surges to and fro.
+                            JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+THE VILLA
+
+    OUR villa . . .
+    . . . lies on the slope of the Alban hill;
+    Lifting its white face, sunny and still,
+    Out of the olives' pale gray green,
+    That, far away as the eye can go,
+    Stretch up behind it, row upon row.
+    There in the garden the cypresses, stirred
+    By the sifting winds, half musing talk,
+    And the cool, fresh, constant voice is heard
+    Of the fountain's spilling in every walk.
+    There stately the oleanders grow,
+    And one long gray wall is aglow
+    With golden oranges burning between
+    Their dark stiff leaves of sombre green.
+    And there are hedges all clipped and square,
+    As carven from blocks of malachite,
+    Where fountains keep spinning their threads of light
+    And statues whiten the shadow there.
+    And if the sun too fiercely shine,
+    And one would creep from its noonday glare,
+    There are galleries dark, where ilexes twine
+    Their branchy roofs above the head.
+                                   W. W. STORY.
+
+[Illustration: XI
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti_]
+
+
+TRULY everything here has a dramatic character. The smallness and grace
+of this little church gleaming with colour, its chapels and grottoes
+like a spiritual vision, such as I have never found elsewhere in the
+whole field of religious conception. It is an illustrated picture-book
+of poetical legends, which are bloodless and painless, though fantastic,
+like the lives of pious anchorites in the wilderness, and amid the birds
+of the field. Here Religion treads on the borders of fairy-land, and
+brings an indescribable atmosphere away from thence.
+
+                                                       GREGOROVIUS.
+
+
+BRAMANTE
+
+    FEW words record Bramante's great command,
+    As from some mountain silence set apart,
+    He blazed a trail along the way of art,
+    Upheld the torch and led his little band.
+
+    He spoke alone to those who understand,
+    Not cheapening words within the public mart,
+    Living withdrawn, a high and humble heart,
+    Creating loveliness for his loved land.
+
+    Though he dwelt cloistered in his northern home,
+    When he strode forth it was with unveiled face,
+    To rear a fabric that may crumble never.
+
+    They called him "Master" when he wrought in Rome
+    And with earth's greatest ones shall labor ever
+    The hand that gave to Lombardy her grace.
+                          MARION MONKS CHASE.
+
+[Illustration: XII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Santa Prassede, the Cardinal's Church_]
+
+
+IL PENSEROSO
+
+          BUT let my due feet never fail
+          To walk the studious cloister's pale,
+          And love the high embowèd roof,
+          With antick pillars massy proof,
+          And storied windows richly dight,
+          Casting a dim religious light.
+          There let the pealing organ blow
+          To the full-voiced Quire below,
+          In service high and anthems clear,
+          As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
+          Dissolve me into ecstacies,
+          And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
+                                         MILTON.
+
+[Illustration: XIII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Cloisters of Santa Prassede_]
+
+
+THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB IN SANTA PRASSEDE
+
+    YET still my niche is not so cramped but thence
+    One sees the pulpit o' the epistle-side
+    And somewhat of the choir, those silent seats,
+    And up into the aery dome, where live
+    The angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk;
+    And I shall fill my slab of basalt there,
+    And neath my tabernacle take my rest,
+    With those nine columns round me, two and two,
+    The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands;
+    Peach blossom marble all, the rare, the ripe
+    As fresh poured red wine of a mighty pulse.
+    Old Gandolph with his paltry onion-stone
+    Put me where I may look at him! True peach,
+    Rosy and faultless: . . .
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Did I say basalt for my slab, sons? Black
+    'T was ever antique-black I meant! How else
+    Shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath?
+    The bas-relief in bronze you promised me,
+    Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of, and perchance
+    Some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so,
+    The Saviour at his sermon on the mount,
+    Saint Praxed in a glory, and one Pan
+    Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off,
+    And Moses with the tables,--but I know
+    Ye mark me not!
+                                 ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+[Illustration: XIV
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Tomb of Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti in Santa Prassede_]
+
+
+
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+
+FRENCH TOWNS
+
+IT is a drowsy little Burgundian town, very old and ripe, with crooked
+streets, vistas always oblique, and steep moss-covered roofs. . . . I
+carried away from Beaune the impression of something autumnal,--something
+rusty yet kindly, like the taste of a sweet russet pear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Le Mans as at Bourges, my first business was with the cathedral, to
+which I lost no time in directing my steps. . . . It stands on the edge
+of the eminence of the town, which falls straight away on two sides of
+it, and makes a striking mass, bristling behind, as you see it from
+below, with rather small but singularly numerous flying buttresses. On
+my way to it I happened to walk through the one street which contains a
+few ancient and curious houses,--a very crooked and untidy lane, of
+really mediæval aspect, honored with the denomination of the Grand Rue.
+Here is the house of Queen Berengaria. . . . The structure in
+question--very sketchable, if the sketcher could get far enough away
+from it--is an elaborate little dusky façade, overhanging the street,
+ornamented with panels of stone, which are covered with delicate
+Renaissance sculpture. A fat old woman, standing in the door of a small
+grocer's shop next to it,--a most gracious old woman, with a
+bristling moustache and a charming manner,--told me what the house
+was.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This admirable house, in the centre of the town, gabled, elaborately
+timbered, and much restored, is a really imposing monument. The basement
+is occupied by a linen-draper, who flourishes under the auspicious sign
+of the Mère de Famille; and above her shop the tall front rises in five
+overhanging stories. As the house occupies the angle of a little
+_place_, the front is double, and carved and interlaced, has a high
+picturesqueness. The Maison d'Adam is quite in the grand style, and I am
+sorry to say I failed to learn what history attaches to its name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I remember going around to the church, after I had left the good
+sisters, and to a little quiet terrace, which stands in front of it,
+ornamented with a few small trees and bordered with a wall, breast high,
+over which you look down steep hillsides, off into the air, and all
+about the neighboring country. I remember saying to myself that this
+little terrace was one of those felicitous nooks which the tourist of
+taste keeps in his mind as a picture.
+
+                         HENRY JAMES, _A Little Tour in France._
+
+
+[Illustration: XV
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_The Town and the River Merle_]
+
+
+A COUNTRY TOWN
+
+THEY wake you early in this hilly town. It was hardly light this morning
+when up and down through all its highways went a vigorous drum beat.
+Reluctantly peeking from the window to see the troops enter our square I
+was disappointed to find that one regimental drummer, marching
+unaccompanied and lonely, had done all this mischief. What useful
+purpose did he serve? After a brief respite and repose the noise of
+another commotion came in with the morning air; a murmur which grew and
+became a chatter and at last a din! The next journey to the window
+showed that the morning market was in full swing. Piles of fresh greens
+and rich-colored vegetables were tended by gnarled old peasant women
+sitting under widespread umbrellas of faded colors. But what a pleasant
+air it was that came through the opened sash; a mountain air with just
+that faint flavor of garlic tinging it which presages something
+satisfying to be found later. Strengthened for a time by our coffee and
+rolls we wandered through these winding streets. We saw the
+weather-beaten, leaden flèche of the cathedral high on the hill, but for
+the time were satisfied to study the many ancient houses which still
+remain. Their fronts framed in dark oak with a filling of amber-colored
+plaster topple over the public ways until they almost meet. Here and
+there the oak beams are carved, and grinning man or snarling monster
+regards you from corbel or boss. In places too there are bits of old
+Gothic detail and one doorway of true Flamboyant work. There is the true
+poetry of architecture! In England the Decorated Period gives you what
+is handsome, the Perpendicular what is stately. In France the
+cathedrals of Paris and of Rheims are splendidly serious and correct;
+but if in Gothic work you seek imaginative, unrestrained, carelessly
+free poetry it is to be found in the flowing lines and exuberant fancy
+of the work of the Flamboyant period.
+
+[Illustration: XVI
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_La Grande Rue and La Place de la République_]
+
+We found much needed restoration in the hors-d'oeuvres, the omelette,
+the cutlet, the salads and the cheese of déjeuner,--and then followed
+coffee under the awning of the café. Here we looked out on the Grand
+Place which had now become sleepy, all signs of the market and its
+business having disappeared. On it front the Mairie, the Bureau des
+Postes, the Hôtel du Lion d'Or and various centres of local commerce. We
+watched our neighbors in the café; the colonel with clanking sword in
+vigorous discussion with a local magnate; the retired bourgeois who
+played a desultory game of billiards or a deeply thought out match at
+dominoes. A quiet square it was now, and, in the shade of its plane
+trees, comfortable and at peace with the world, we fell asleep and made
+up for the wakefulness of our earlier hours.
+
+                                   ROBERTS, _Letters from France._
+
+
+OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS
+
+    HIGH throned above th' encircling meadows fair
+    Our Lady of the Rocks holds queenly sway!
+    Bright kerchiefed peasants daily wend their way
+    With clattering sabots up the winding stair,
+    Pausing at each rude rock-hewn station, there
+    To bend the knee and many an Ave say.
+    Up, up they climb, their voices echoing gay
+    Till by the Virgin's shrine they kneel in prayer.
+
+    This is that "Jacob's Ladder" famed afar
+    To which the Kings of France made pilgrimage
+    Asking for favors both in Peace and War.
+    Well named!--for Heavenwards the way is tending,
+    And all these happy, pious folk presage
+    Angels of God ascending and descending.
+                                      H. L. P.
+
+
+          BUT, when so sad thou canst no sadder,
+          Cry, and upon thy so sore loss
+          Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
+          Pitched between heaven and Charing Cross.
+
+          So in the night my soul, my daughter,
+          Cry, clinging heaven by the hems,
+          And lo! Christ walking on the water
+          Not of Gennesaret but Thames.
+                          FRANCIS THOMPSON.
+
+[Illustration: XVII
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_L'escalier de Jacob_]
+
+
+          OFT have I seen at some cathedral door
+            A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
+            Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet
+            Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor
+          Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;
+            Far off the noises of the world retreat;
+            The loud vociferations of the street
+            Become an undistinguishable roar.
+            So as I enter here from day to day,
+          And leave my burden at this minster gate,
+            Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray,
+          The tumult of the time disconsolate
+            To inarticulate murmurs dies away,
+            While the eternal ages watch and wait.
+
+          How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!
+            This crowd of statues, on whose folded sleeves
+            Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves
+            Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers
+          And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!
+            But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves
+            Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves,
+            And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers!
+          Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain,
+            What exultations trampling on despair,
+            What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong,
+          What passionate outcry of the soul in pain
+            Uprose this poem of the earth and air,
+            This mediæval miracle of song!
+                                        H. W. LONGFELLOW.
+
+[Illustration: XVIII
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_Le Parvis de Ste Frédigonde_]
+
+
+THE CATHEDRAL
+
+          LOOKING up suddenly, I found mine eyes
+          Confronted with the minster's vast repose.
+          Silent and gray as forest-leaguered cliff
+          Left inland by the ocean's slow retreat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          It rose before me, patiently remote
+          From the great tides of life it breasted once,
+          Hearing the noise of men as in a dream
+          I stood before the triple northern port,
+          Where dedicated shapes of saints and kings,
+          Stern faces bleared with immemorial watch,
+          Looked down benignly grave and seemed to say,
+          _Ye come and go incessant; we remain
+          Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past;
+          Be reverent, ye who flit and are forgot,
+          Of faith so nobly realized as this._
+                                    JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+CHARTRES
+
+ALL day the sky had been banked with thunderclouds, but by the time we
+reached Chartres, toward four o'clock, they had rolled away under the
+horizon, and the town was so saturated with sunlight that to pass into
+the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a church in
+Spain. At first all detail was imperceptible: we were in a hollow night.
+Then, as the shadows gradually thinned and gathered themselves up into
+pier and vault and ribbing, there burst out of them great sheets and
+showers of color. Framed by such depths of darkness, and steeped in a
+blaze of mid-summer sun, the familiar windows seemed singularly remote
+and yet overpoweringly vivid. Now they widened into dark-shored pools
+splashed with sunset, now glittered and menaced like the shields of
+fighting angels. Some were cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped
+from a saint's tunic, others great carven platters strewn with heavenly
+regalia, others the sails of galleons bound for the Purple Islands; and
+in the western wall the scattered fires of the rose window hung like a
+constellation in an African night. When one dropped one's eyes from
+these ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below them, all
+veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few altar lights, seemed to
+symbolize the life on earth, with its shadows, its heavy distances and
+its little islands of illusions. All that a great cathedral can be, all
+the meanings it can express, all the tranquillizing power it can breathe
+upon the soul, all the richness of detail it can fuse into a large
+utterance of strength and beauty, the cathedral of Chartres gave us in
+that perfect hour.
+
+                              EDITH WHARTON, _Fighting France._
+
+[Illustration: XIX
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_Interior of the Church of Ste Frédigonde_]
+
+
+AT HIGH MASS
+
+          THOU Who hast made this world so wondrous fair;--
+          The pomp of clouds; the glory of the sea;
+          Music of water; songbirds' melody;
+          The organ of Thy thunder in the air;
+          Breath of the rose; and beauty everywhere--
+          Lord, take this stately service done to Thee,
+          The grave enactment of Thy Calvary
+          In jewelled pomp and splendor pictured there!
+
+          Lord, take the sounds and sights; the silk and gold;
+          The white and scarlet; take the reverent grace
+          Of ordered step; window and glowing wall--
+          Prophet and Prelate, holy men of old;
+          And teach us children of the Holy Place
+          Who love Thy Courts, to love Thee best of all.
+                                      ROBERT HUGH BENSON.
+
+
+THE LAMP OF SACRIFICE
+
+ALL else for which the builders sacrificed, has passed away--all their
+living interests, and aims, and achievements. We know not for what they
+labored, and we see no evidence of their reward. Victory, wealth,
+authority, happiness--all have departed, though bought by many a bitter
+sacrifice. But of them, and their life and their toil upon the earth,
+one reward, one evidence, is left to us in those gray heaps of
+deep-wrought stone. They have taken with them to the grave their powers,
+their honors, and their errors; but they have left us their adoration.
+
+                                                  JOHN RUSKIN.
+
+[Illustration: XX
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_Sacristy Steps in the Church of Ste Frédigonde_]
+
+
+HUNTING THE STAG
+
+WE spent yesterday in the Forêt de C----. As the Emperor had guests we
+were not admitted at the Château, but we tramped for long through the
+woods. The grassy roads run beneath the embowering beeches straight from
+carrefour to carrefour. The gnarled and twisted trunks give to each tree
+a personal character and make it a master-piece of Nature. Of a sudden
+we came on the Imperial hunt winding in gay procession through the
+forest to its rendezvous. Hunting horns in triple rings of brass
+encircled the leading horsemen. From time to time we heard from them the
+familiar strains which echo through the Latin Quarter at Mi-Carême. Then
+followed in brilliant liveries a troop of lackeys, grooms, and other
+servants, and the pack of staghounds held in leash but sniffing and
+yelping. Next came the hunters themselves on high-bred mounts and in
+court costumes of ancient design. Lastly there were barouches and
+landaus carrying the ladies of the Court "en grande tenue." The sunlight
+flickering through the beech branches enlivened this brilliant train as
+it wound through the forest glades and disappeared down a green allée.
+
+We had continued our walk for scarce a mile when, but a short distance
+from us, a stag crossed our path--stood startled--with head erect,--and
+then with confident leaps vanished in the forest just as the distant
+hounds became aware of him and joined in a wild chorus. In a few moments
+the pack came in a rush across our path. Up the different allées rode
+the horsemen in haste--asking of us news of the stag. We on foot joined
+in the pursuit,--but at last the forest swallowed one after the
+other, stag, and hounds, and hunters, and the sound of dog and horn.
+
+[Illustration: XXI
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_The Château Beaumesnil_]
+
+On leaving the forest we passed the small Château. Its conical turret
+roofs and lofty chimneys, and its flashing finials and girouettes make a
+brave show above the forest trees. The terraces overlook wide meadow
+lands through which the river winds until it is lost in the hazy
+distance.
+
+                                 ROBERTS, _Letters from France._
+
+CLOTILDE
+
+          IN Geraudun were brothers three,
+          They had one sister dear;
+          The cruel Baron her lord must be,
+          And the fellest and fiercest knight is he
+          In the country far or near.
+
+          He beat that lovely lady sore
+          With a staff of the apple green,
+          Till her blood flowed down on the castle floor,
+          And from head to foot the crimson gore
+          On her milk-white robe was seen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          Her robe was stained with the ruby tide
+          Once pure as the fleece so white;
+          And she hied her to the river-side
+          To wash in the waters bright.
+
+          While there she stood three knights so gay
+          Came riding bold and free.
+          "Ho! tell us young serving maiden, pray
+          Where yon castle's lady may be?"
+
+          "Alas! no serving maid am I,
+          But the lady of yonder castle high!"
+
+          "O sister, sister, truly tell
+          Who did this wrong to thee?"
+
+          "Dear brothers it was the husband fell
+          To whom you married me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          The brothers spurred their steeds in haste
+          And the castle soon they gained.
+          From chamber to chamber they swiftly passed
+          Nor paused till they reached the tower at last
+          Where the felon knight remained:
+
+          They drew their swords so sharp and bright
+          They thought on their sister sweet;
+          They struck together the felon knight,
+          And his head rolled at their feet!
+                         _Translated by_ LOUIS S. COSTELLO.
+
+[Illustration: XXII
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_La Tour de la Dame Blanche_]
+
+
+
+
+AEGINASSOS
+
+
+THE ISLES OF GREECE
+
+          THE isles of Greece! The isles of Greece!
+          Where burning Sappho loved and sung,--
+          Where grew the arts of war and peace,--
+          Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!
+          Eternal summer gilds them yet
+          But all, except their sun, is set.
+                                    BYRON.
+
+
+THE ODYSSEY
+
+          AS one that for a weary space has lain
+          Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine
+          In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,
+          Where the Ægean isle forgets the main,
+          And only the low lutes of love complain,
+          And only shadows of wan lovers pine,--
+          As such an one were glad to know the brine
+          Salt on his lips, and the large air again,--
+          So gladly from the songs of modern speech
+          Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free
+          Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,
+          And through the music of the languid hours
+          They hear, like Ocean on a western beach,
+          The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.
+                                    ANDREW LANG.
+
+[Illustration: XXIII
+
+AEGINASSOS
+
+_The Temple and the Forum_]
+
+
+ULYSSES
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  THERE lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
+  There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
+  Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me--
+  That ever with a frolic welcome took
+  The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
+  Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
+  Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;
+  Death closes all; but something ere the end,
+  Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
+  Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
+  The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
+  The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs: the deep
+  Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
+  'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
+  Push off, and sitting well in order smite
+  The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
+  To sail beyond the sunset, and the paths
+  Of all the western stars, until I die.
+  It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
+  It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
+  And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
+  Though much is taken, much abides; and though
+  We are not now that strength which in old days
+  Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
+  One equal temper of heroic hearts,
+  Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
+  To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
+                               ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+[Illustration: XXIV
+
+AEGINASSOS
+
+_The Temple and the Forum_]
+
+
+
+
+          The Riverside Press
+          CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
+          U . S . A
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Text uses both Aeginossis and Æginassos.
+
+Page 25, "Leornardesquely" changed to "Leonardesquely" (Leonardesquely
+perfect, of)
+
+Page 65, "hors-oeuvres" changed to "hors d'oeuvres" (in the
+hors-d'oeuvres)
+
+Page 65, "d'éjeuner" changed to "déjeuner" (cheese of déjeuner)
+
+Page 90, "Ææan" changed to "Ægean" (the Ægean isle)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Hospital Sketches, by Robert Swain Peabody
+
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hospital Sketches, by Robert Swain Peabody.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hospital Sketches, by Robert Swain Peabody
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hospital Sketches
+
+Author: Robert Swain Peabody
+
+Release Date: February 15, 2011 [EBook #35289]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOSPITAL SKETCHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
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+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;">
+<img src="images/i_cover.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>HOSPITAL SKETCHES</h1>
+
+<div class='center'><br /><br /><br />1916</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>HOSPITAL SKETCHES</h1>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<div class='author'>ROBERT SWAIN PEABODY<br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 74px;">
+<img src="images/i_004.png" width="74" height="100" alt="Emblem" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><br /><br /><br />
+BOSTON &amp; NEW YORK<br />
+HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br />
+<i>The Riverside Press Cambridge</i><br />
+1916<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class='copyright'>
+COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY ROBERT SWAIN PEABODY<br />
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br />
+<i>Published December 1916</i><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='poem'>
+"<i>Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Enwrought with golden and silver light,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The blue and the dim and the dark cloths</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Of night and light and the half light;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I would spread the cloths under your feet:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But I, being poor, have only my dreams;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I have spread my dreams under your feet;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."</span></i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><span class="smcap">W. B. Yeats.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>NOTE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Acknowledgments</span> are made to Messrs.
+Charles Scribner's Sons for permission to use a
+passage from Edith Wharton's <i>Fighting France</i>
+and to The Macmillan Company for the use
+of the poem "Aedh wishes for the Cloths of
+Heaven," by W. B. Yeats.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>INTRODUCTION</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_ix">ix</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>VIEW FROM THE HOSPITAL TERRACE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'>The Minster and the Meadows</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'>The Church Yard</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'>The Village</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'>The Hall</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'>Trong's Almshouses</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />RANCONEZZO</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'>The Town and the Lake</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'>Piazza Garibaldi</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'>Piazza Cavour</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'>North Door of the Duomo</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'>Interior of the Duomo</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'>The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'>Santa Prassede, the Cardinal's Church</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'>The Cloisters of S<sup>ta</sup> Prassede</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'>The Tomb of the Cardinal in S<sup>ta</sup> Prassede</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_55">55</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />ROCHER-ST.-POL</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'>The Town and the River Merle</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'>La Grande Rue and La Place de la R&eacute;publique</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'>L'escalier de Jacob</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'>Le Parvis de S<sup>te</sup> Fr&eacute;digonde</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'>Interior of the Church of S<sup>te</sup> Fr&eacute;digonde</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'>Sacristy Steps in the Church of S<sup>te</sup> Fr&eacute;digonde&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td><td align='left'>The Ch&acirc;teau Beaumesnil</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXII.</td><td align='left'>La Tour de la Dame Blanche</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />AEGINASSOS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.</td><td align='left'>The Temple and the Forum</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.</td><td align='left'>The Temple and the Forum</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_94">95</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Johns Hopkins Hospital,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-right: .5em;"><span class="smcap">Baltimore, Maryland,</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;"><i>December, 1915.</i></span><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='cap'>ONE of my good friends, a stanch upholder of
+what to him is "The Catholic Church," looks
+back to the thirteenth century as marking the highest
+tide of Christian civilization. He longs for a restoration
+(but under other rule) of that monastic
+life which then gave shelter to Art, Science, Learning,
+and Religion. It does not appear that this
+longing is coupled with any regret for the exceptionally
+happy domestic life with which he personally
+has been blessed. Probably his hopes are
+that even if he establishes, others will maintain,
+that monastic life and discipline which, duly purified
+from Ultramontane tendencies, he thinks would
+be so uplifting and beneficial to our times.</div>
+
+<p>However that may be, if he is ever immured
+for many weeks in a great hospital, he will be surprised
+to find how many are the similarities between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span>
+its life, its discipline and its atmosphere,
+and those of the great monasteries. I mean those
+medi&aelig;val houses which spread from the parent at
+Monte Cassino to Citeaux and Cluny and Vezelay
+and thence to far-away parts of Europe, and which
+were even more abundant in England where the
+ruins of the Yorkshire Abbeys still attest to their
+former power. When the time is ripe for the change
+longed for by our friend he will find that very
+slight additions to a modern hospital will give him
+what he wants in great perfection.</p>
+
+<p>Grateful though I am to them&mdash;deeply grateful&mdash;yet
+I know little of the personal history of the
+founder of this great hospital which now shelters
+me, or of that "Diamond Jim Brady" who built
+and endowed this noble wing. Still, I feel sure that
+in many ways these benefactors to their race
+made their gifts under much the same conditions
+as those barons and nobles of old who, led by some
+deep feeling, devoted their wealth to the saving,
+not only of their own souls, but of the souls and
+bodies of their fellow men.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, if the benefactors who founded and
+endowed this hospital resembled the men and
+women who made possible the powerful monasteries
+of the Middle Ages, there is also a resemblance to
+be found between the service that the monks rendered
+in their day to humanity and knowledge
+and that devotion which to-day inspires the staff
+of a great modern hospital. In this very building<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span>
+are housed and in constant attendance a large
+number of doctors, surgeons and orderlies. Their
+quarters, though in many ways like those in a
+modern club, are almost equally like the cells of a
+great monastery. There probably is not one of the
+staff who was not turned to his profession in some
+degree by the thought that it would make him of
+service to mankind. In another wing live several
+hundred nurses. The strength and health and happiness
+which appear in the faces of these young
+women attest to the good effect for women as well
+as for men of discipline and regular attention to
+duty. What a shining example is theirs of faithful
+and altruistic service to suffering humanity! Indeed
+a generous, helpful and encouraging spirit
+pervades all the men and women who form the
+staff of the hospital. Theirs is a single-minded and
+unwearying attention which no monks could have
+excelled, nor could the monasteries ever have offered
+a wider charity than that which makes white
+and colored, Hebrew and Gentile, poor and rich all
+objects of the kindly help of a skilful and devoted
+company.</p>
+
+<p>I know that the kernel and very centre of the
+monastery was the lighted altar in the chapel
+where daily the sacred mysteries were enacted.
+That is what our friend will need to add to his perfected
+institution;&mdash;and yet&mdash;and yet&mdash;I doubt
+if the atmosphere will be very different when that
+is done. Although this place is world-famous as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span>
+a centre of scientific research and of applied science,&mdash;though,
+in general, religion here is worked out
+in terms of service,&mdash;yet there are signs that the
+spirit has recognition as well as the physical body.
+To-day, in the great entrance rotunda stands a
+colossal and impressive statue of Christ, his hands
+outstretched welcoming the weary and the heavy-laden.
+The several hundred nurses have daily
+prayers together before they begin their unselfish
+work. At the dawn of Christmas morning, the
+doctors, nurses and orderlies make the halls resound
+with the carols suited to the day; and we hear
+how one convalescent who was praising his doctor's
+power over his ailments was surprised by the
+reply, "It was another power than mine that did
+it!" Perhaps he meant that miraculous servant
+Radium; perhaps he meant Nature herself; perhaps
+he meant something beyond these. He did
+not explain.</p>
+
+<p>This devotion with which the staff is consecrated
+to altruistic labor is met by a spirit of buoyant
+gratitude from those on whom they minister. Our
+ward is vibrant with it. Perhaps this is not true at
+the very first. The patient arrives in misery. For
+a few days he is perhaps made even more miserable.
+But during this time he is in seclusion and not visible
+to his comrades. Soon he rallies. In bed or
+wheel chair he joins other convalescents on the
+roof terrace. They compare notes over their
+operations. They settle among themselves all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span>
+those great pending questions which have been
+engrossing the active outside world and, looking
+forward to returning health and strength, a very
+joyous spirit pervades the group. These not too
+inviting surroundings abound, therefore, in a
+hearty thankfulness&mdash;a thankfulness abundant
+and sincere, and not unlike what it would be
+if it were offered amid solemn rites and with majestic
+music before the glowing altar of a monastery.</p>
+
+<p>But in these early days of seclusion the lonely
+patient has opportunity for much thinking. Lying
+in bed in a room which, as a recent writer described
+it, is richly decorated with a white ceiling,
+four white walls, a door, a window and a floor,
+he has indeed time for thought and for thought
+without distraction.</p>
+
+<p>Surrounded as he is by the sick and the maimed,
+perhaps one of the first subjects on which he is led
+to ponder is the mystery of Pain. What does it
+all mean that a God otherwise beneficent should
+impose on the creatures he has brought into the
+world illness and suffering? Even Prince Siddartha
+wondered at it:</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Since if, all powerful, he leaves it so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He is not good; and if not powerful,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He is not God?"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>In better mood the patient may wonder whether
+his personal share of pain is in any sense a penance or
+atonement for his own past sins. This is a thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>
+which is natural and acceptable perhaps to most
+minds. But the Saints and Martyrs testifying to
+their faith went farther and not only submitted to
+but gladly sought pain and suffering. Now pain
+and agony well endured undoubtedly strengthen
+character. Have we not a vivid example of this before
+us in the catastrophe of the European war; a
+war which is saved from being wholly evil and
+dreadful because out of it has come the spiritual regeneration
+of the allied nations who are engulfed in
+it? Still it can hardly be expected that ordinary
+flesh and blood should in this world, so full of love
+and beauty, invite and seek out suffering and disaster
+even in order to bear them bravely. Enough
+for most of us that if doomed to walk with them
+we</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+"Turn the necessity to glorious gain."<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>But all the same it must be a happy thing for a
+sufferer if he can hope with the Martyrs that pain
+borne with fortitude may be offered as a sacrifice
+and atonement.</div>
+
+<p>In these dull and lonely moments also one inevitably
+asks whether it is true that people exist
+who are stolid to pain? One may consecrate it
+before it comes and after it goes, but to most of us
+feeble folk pain when present occupies the whole
+limelight and leaves the rest of the stage in darkness!
+The only inmate of the hospital who stirred
+my temper was a patient who on making a rapid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span>
+recovery from what he described as a very severe
+operation said he had refused ether and did not
+mind pain. I regained my equanimity when an
+orderly confided to me that the operation had
+been slight!</p>
+
+<p>In health one is apt to think that Love is the
+great motive power of humanity. In illness and
+suffering Pain seems the great and pressing problem.
+They often go hand in hand and perhaps it is
+true that without them both life has not rendered
+its full wealth or its perfect discipline. "The ennobling
+depths of pain" need also "the purifying fire
+of love" to round out a perfect character.</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Incomprehensibly Love's will doth move<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Through this blind world in ways we cannot see,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Death giving birth to life. So does deep sorrow</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Give birth to rarer joy on some glad morrow."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>These and many such questions can be as solemn,
+as perplexing and as engrossing as any that exercised
+the inmates of the Monastery to which we here
+find so much resemblance. As a contrast to such
+heart-searching thoughts the patient can wonder
+at the properties of that radium by which he may
+have been treated. How astonishing is it that this
+atom of matter should constantly emit rays which
+search out and destroy evil tissues and leave unharmed
+the good; and that they do this without
+any perceptible diminution of energy! How
+contrary this is to all we have hitherto known of
+the conservation of energy and of the impossibility<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span>
+of obtaining perpetual motion or continued power!
+What is so contrary to our preconceived ideas
+proves itself, however, by experience efficient in
+an almost supernatural or miraculous manner.
+Perhaps fatigued by these thoughts the patient
+can turn from them and closing his eyes begin to
+count "The flock of sheep that leisurely pass by one
+after one" and by happy chance submit himself to
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The roof terrace has a wide view over the City
+of Baltimore, as well as of the heavens which encompass
+it. We sit there in our wheel chairs or lie
+tucked up in our rolling beds and talk flows freely.
+We watch the flocks of pigeons making endless
+circles in the upper air; the black and solemn buzzards
+hanging above us unmoved though the gale
+blow ever so fiercely; the cloud shadows moving
+over the panorama; the haze of mist and steam and
+smoke floating over the City; the ever-changing
+pageant of fleeting clouds and blue sky and blazing
+sunsets. At one time&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"And when the wind from place to place<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Doth the unmoored cloud galleons chase"&mdash;</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>we follow the white fleets as they sail away towards
+the south, ever replaced by new armadas surging
+up and over the northern horizon. At another time
+in range beyond range of snowy clouds, we see
+rise before us the Delectable Mountains beyond
+which is the Land of Beulah where the shining<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span>
+ones go to and fro as messengers to the Celestial
+City.</div>
+
+<p>It is said that an eye unused to the telescope
+cannot see the canals on the planet Mars, but
+that through the same instrument they are plainly
+visible to an eye trained to such observation.
+Sometimes, when the clouds have hung in white
+masses over the city, I have been eager to see
+what was hidden by those luminous walls, but my
+untrained eyes could not pierce them. Day after
+day, however, I became more familiar with them.
+Others before now, without journeying like Columbus
+to prove the truth of his visions, have,
+even by their own firesides, enjoyed Castles in the
+Air and Ch&acirc;teaux and great possessions in Spain.
+In like manner as the breeze moved the silver
+edges of the clouds, I had unexpectedly through
+the rifts views of strange lands and fair cities which
+I had never before seen or heard of. As they were
+indeed lovely, in all haste I tried to make rapid
+notes of them to prove the truth of my strange
+experience.</p>
+
+<p>Far to the north over Homewood, a pile of mountainous
+clouds was rent for a short space by the
+breeze, and disclosed a Minster in a meadow land.
+Its name seemed to be Upthorpe-cum-Regis. Its
+tower rose before me over the busy life of the
+town and looked down on the mansion of the Squire
+and the house of the Dean. Close around the walls
+of the Minster, indeed within sound of its prayers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span>
+and anthems, were clustered the graves of the
+dead,&mdash;the former generations who had made the
+life of the town and who built the church and
+worshipped at its altar. It was a town in which the
+characters described by Trollope or George Eliot
+or Jane Austen would have felt themselves at
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Again when a sunset was filling the western sky
+with "the incomparable pomp of eve," a break in
+the clouds above the gilded towers of Cardinal
+Gibbons's Cathedral disclosed an Italian town on
+a lovely lake shore. Boats with colored sails lined
+the Riva of Ranconezzo. Two piazzas teeming
+with life surrounded the Duomo or Cathedral and
+from them there were wide views over lake and
+mountain scenery. It appears that in the long
+ago, the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti was the benefactor
+of this town, and there on the hillside, tree
+embowered, was his villa with its little port for
+the lake boats. His tomb I also saw, not in the
+Duomo, but in the Bramantesque Church of Santa
+Prassede, a building resembling the many small
+churches in northern Italy due to the refined influence
+of Bramante. In my dreaming I entered
+the church, and found that the great Cardinal lies
+beneath a tomb carved by Mino da Fiesole on the
+north side of Santa Prassede.</p>
+
+<p>Then on a cool and crisp day when clouds were
+scudding through the sky, between them there
+was revealed to me a French town that seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span>
+to bear the name of Rocher-St.-Pol. There was
+the river Merle winding its way through meadow
+and woodland. A range of hills bounded the
+horizon and from the plain rose the Rock. Not
+far away the ruined castle of "La Dame Blanche"
+crowned a steep hill, and close to the town was the
+Ch&acirc;teau Beaumesnil, beetling over the wooded
+hillside and bristling with conical towers and burnished
+girouettes. The Grande Rue of Rocher-St.-Pol
+I saw winding between gabled and half-timbered
+houses towards the church on the summit,
+and finally a long flight of stairs called by the
+people Jacob's ladder brings the pilgrim to the
+terrace in front of the church door. The interior
+of Ste. Fr&eacute;digonde showed me the same period of
+French Gothic which marks the cathedrals of Notre
+Dame at Paris and Rheims. Coming out from
+Jacob's ladder upon the Parvis, there was a wide
+view over the meadows and the river. At the
+moment when the cathedral door was disclosed to
+me, a procession of clergy bearing sacred relics
+emerged from the church. It passed between the
+ranks of prophets and martyrs whose effigies flank
+the portal, and vanished with its banners and vestments
+down the long incline of Jacob's ladder
+towards the old town.</p>
+
+<p>And finally came a dismal day, at the end of
+which the west was lined with long streaks of red,
+and, just before sunset, through a lengthened break
+in the gray, I seemed to see an Island in the far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span>
+&AElig;gean. I think it must have been somewhere
+between the &AElig;gina that looks across the waters to
+the Athenian Acropolis and the Assos which my
+friends in their youth dug from its grave. Let us
+call it &AElig;ginassos. Its buildings as I dimly saw
+them are in a remarkable condition of preservation.
+The white temple stood out on a promontory
+over the sea, and brought back to memory the
+temple-crowned headland at Sunium. Higher on
+the mountain-side was the Forum with its terraces
+and long colonnades. Steep and winding paths
+descended to the ancient port, and far across the
+water rose the heights of the Isles of Greece.</p>
+
+<p>Here are the records of what I was privileged to
+see from the roof terrace of the Hospital. Made
+in bed or wheel chair and depending on the passing
+imagination of an invalid, the sketches are of
+necessity crude. Would that instead they were like
+the work of Claude or Turner, who were the great
+experts at seeing visions in the clouds and in
+transferring them to their paper! These drawings
+will, however, be a reminder that idle hours can
+be passed happily even during a long captivity!
+Opposite each drawing I have placed some quotations
+from various writers. Although these do
+not describe with exactness the places which no
+eye but mine has seen, yet they do picture others
+very like those which I saw from the hospital
+terrace.</p>
+
+<p>A day at last arrived when the patient was suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span>
+released. After being the object of tender care
+for many weeks the outer world seemed very large
+and very hustling. It was with a certain timidity
+and almost with reluctance that facing it all
+he left the peaceful quiet of the Johns Hopkins
+Hospital.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 383px;">
+<img src="images/i_026.jpg" width="383" height="450" alt="I UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS The Minster and the Meadows" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE RIVER</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was one of their happy mornings. They trotted
+along and sat down together, with no thought that life
+would ever change much for them; they would only get
+bigger and not go to school, and it would be always like
+the holiday; they would always live together and be
+fond of each other. And the mill with its booming&mdash;the
+great chestnut tree under which they played at
+house&mdash;their own little river, the Ripple, where the
+banks seemed like home, and Tom was always seeing
+water-rats while Maggie gathered the purple plumy
+tops of the reeds which she forgot, and dropped afterwards&mdash;above
+all, the great Floss, along which they
+wandered with a sense of travel, to see the rushing
+spring-tide, the awful Eagre, come up like a hungry
+monster, or to see the Great Ash which had once wailed
+and groaned like a man&mdash;these things would always be
+just the same to them. Tom thought people were at a
+disadvantage who lived in any other spot of the globe;
+and Maggie when she read about Christiana passing
+"the river over which there is no bridge," always saw
+the Floss between the green pastures by the Great Ash.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">George Eliot.</span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/i_028.jpg" width="550" height="382" alt="title and dedication" title="" />
+<span class="caption">I<br /><br />
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Minster and the Meadows</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE MINSTER</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem3'>
+<span class="smcap">Strong</span> as time, and as faith sublime,&mdash;clothed round with shadows of hopes and fears,<br />
+Nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion of prayers and tears,&mdash;<br />
+Stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing and waning years.<br />
+Tower set square to the storms of air and change of season that blooms and glows,<br />
+Wall and roof of it tempest proof, and equal even to suns and snows,<br />
+Bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as a straight stem grows.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;"><span class="smcap">A. Swinburne.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>ELEGY</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Now</span> fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,<br />
+And all the air a solemn stillness holds,<br />
+Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br />
+And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade<br />
+Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap<br />
+Each in his narrow cell forever laid,<br />
+The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,<br />
+The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,<br />
+The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br />
+No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><span class="smcap">Gray.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE CHURCHYARD</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a very quiet place, as such a place should be,
+save for the cawing of the rooks who had built their nest
+among the branches of some tall old trees, and were
+calling to one another, high up in the air. First one
+sleek bird, hovering near his ragged house as it swung
+and dangled in the wind, uttered his hoarse cry, quite
+by chance as it would seem, and in a sober tone as
+though he were but talking to himself. Another answered,
+and he called again, but louder than before;
+then another spoke and then another; and each time the
+first, aggravated by contradiction, insisted on his case
+more strongly. Other voices, silent till now, struck in
+from boughs lower down and higher up and midway,
+and to the right and left, and from the tree-tops; and
+others arriving hastily from the grey church turrets and
+old belfry window, joined the clamour which rose and
+fell, and swelled and dropped again, and still went on;
+and all this noisy contention amidst a skimming to and
+fro, and lighting on fresh branches, and frequent changes
+of place, which satirized the old restlessness of those
+who lay so still beneath the moss and turf below, and
+the useless strife in which they had worn away their
+lives.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Charles Dickens.</span><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>
+<img src="images/i_032.jpg" width="415" height="500" alt="II UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS The Church Yard" title="" />
+<span class="caption">II<br />
+<br />
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Church Yard</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE PARSON</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">As</span> I was walking with him last night, he asked me
+how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned?
+and without staying for my answer told me, that
+he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+his own table; for which reason he desired a particular
+friend of his at the university to find him out a clergyman
+rather of plain sense than much learning, of a good
+aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if possible,
+a man that understood a little of backgammon. "My
+friend," says Sir Roger, found me out this gentleman,
+who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they
+tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show it. I
+have given him the parsonage of the parish; and because
+I know his value, have settled on him a good annuity
+for life....</p>
+
+<p>At his first settling with me, I made him a present of
+all the good sermons which have been printed in English,
+and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce
+one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly he has
+digested them into such a series, that they follow one
+another naturally, and make a continued system of
+practical divinity.</p>
+
+<p>As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman
+we were talking of came up to us, and upon the
+Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow, for it
+was Saturday night, told us, the bishop of St. Asaph in
+the morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then
+showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where
+I saw with a great deal of pleasure, Archbishop Tillotson,
+Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with
+several living authors who have published discourses of
+practical divinity.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Addison</span>.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE SWAN INN</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Last</span> night I lay at the Swan Inn in Lathbury town.
+A sad night I had of it! My chamber was warmed fair
+enough by a fire of sea coal. There was a sweet smell of
+lavender in the sheets which a hot warming pan had
+also made comfortable. All this promised well, but
+Polly had forgot to put my silk night cap into my saddlebags!
+That vexed me sore! All night I felt I was taking
+a rheum. Some clodhoppers roystering in the tap room
+forbade sleep at first and as I am not wont to hear the
+quarters stricken the Abbey bells roused me at frequent
+intervals and made me swear roundly. About midnight
+the Royal Mail rolled over the bridge with a noise fit to
+wake the Seven Sleepers! The hoof beats of its cattle
+echoed on the stone walls of the houses like a salute by
+His Majesty's Footguards! How I ached for my quiet
+chambers in the Temple. At length I fell to sleep and so
+sound that when I waked the sun had long been shining
+through my lattice. I was late in meeting the Squire and
+the Vicar, and that too after making express this arduous
+ride. Indeed I was vexed&mdash;and I showed it.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Swain's</span> <i>Old Salop.</i><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Swan is a venerable and rambling building,
+stretching itself lazily with outspread arms; one of those
+inns (long may they be preserved from the rebuilders!)
+on which one stumbles up or down into every room, and
+where eggs and bacon have an appropriateness that
+make them a more desirable food than ambrosia. The
+little parlor is wainscotted with the votive paintings&mdash;a
+village Diploma Gallery&mdash;of artists who have made
+the Swan their home.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">E. V. Lucas.</span><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/i_036.jpg" width="550" height="467" alt="III UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS The Village" title="" />
+<span class="caption">III<br />
+<br />
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Village</i></span>
+</div>
+<p><br /><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> almost expects to see a fine green moss all over
+an inhabitant of Steyning. One day as I passed through
+the town I saw a man painting a new sign over a shop,
+a proceeding that so aroused my curiosity that I stood
+for a minute or two to look on. The painter filled in one
+letter, gave a huge yawn, looked up and down two or
+three times as if he had lost something, and finally descended
+from his perch and disappeared. Five weeks
+later I passed that way again, and it is a fact that the
+same man was at work on the same sign. Perhaps when
+the reader takes the walk I am about to recommend to
+his attention&mdash;a walk which comprises some of the
+finest scenery in Sussex&mdash;that sign will be finished, and
+the accomplished artist will have begun another; but I
+doubt it. There is plenty of time for everything in
+Steyning.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Louis Jennings.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE OLD COUNTRY HOUSE</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">If</span> our old English folk could not get an arched roof,
+then they loved to have it pointed, with polished timber
+beams on which the eye rested as on looking upwards
+through a tree. Their rooms they liked of many shapes,
+and not at right angles on the corners, nor all on the
+same dead level of flooring. You had to go up a step
+into one, and down a step into another, and along a
+winding passage into a third, so that each part of the
+house had its individuality. To these houses life fitted
+itself and grew to them; they were not mere walls, but
+became part of existence. A man's house was not only
+his castle, a man's house was himself. He could not tear
+himself away from his house, it was like tearing up the
+shrieking mandrake by the root, almost death itself....
+Dark beams inlaid in the walls support the gables; the
+slight curve of the great beam adds, I think, to the interest
+of the old place, for it is a curve that has grown
+and was not premeditated; it has grown like the bough
+of a tree, not from any set human design. This too is
+the character of the house. It is not large, not overburdened
+with gables, not ornamented, not what is
+called striking, in any way, but simply an old English
+house, genuine and true. The warm sunlight falls on the
+old red tiles, the dark beams look the darker for the
+glow of light, the shapely cone of the hop-oust rises at
+the end; there are swallows and flowers and ricks and
+horses, and so it is beautiful because it is natural and
+honest. It is the simplicity that makes it so touching,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+like the words of an old ballad ... why even a tall
+chanticleer makes a home look homely. I do like to see a
+tall proud chanticleer strutting in the yard and barely
+giving way as I advance, almost ready to do battle with
+a stranger like a mastiff.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Jeffries</span>, <i>Buckhurst Park</i>.<br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>
+<img src="images/i_040.jpg" width="550" height="440" alt="IV UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS The Hall" title="" />
+<span class="caption">IV<br />
+<br />
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Hall</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE BEDESMEN</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> he lies, Fundator Noster, in his ruff and gown,
+awaiting the great Examination Day.... Yonder sit
+some threescore old gentlemen pensioners of the hospital,
+listening to the prayers and the psalms. You hear
+them coughing feebly in the twilight,&mdash;the old reverend
+blackgowns.... How solemn the well-remembered
+prayers are, here uttered again in the place where in
+childhood we used to hear them! How beautiful, and
+decorous the rite; how noble the ancient words of the
+supplications which the priest utters, and to which
+generations of fresh children and troops of bygone seniors
+have cried Amen! under those arches! The service for
+Founder's Day is a special one; one of the psalms selected
+being the thirty-seventh and we hear&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>23. The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord,
+and he delighteth in his way&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>24. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down,
+for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.</p>
+
+<p>25. I have been young and now am old, yet have I not
+seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their
+bread.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">W. M. Thackeray.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>HIRAM'S HOSPITAL</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hiram's Hospital</span>, as the retreat is called, is a
+picturesque building enough, and shows the correct
+taste with which the ecclesiastical architects of those
+days were imbued. It stands on the banks of the little
+river, which flows nearly round the cathedral close,
+being on the side furthest from the town. The London<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+road crosses the river by a pretty one-arched bridge,
+and looking from this bridge, the stranger will see the
+windows of the old men's rooms, each pair of windows
+separated by a small buttress. A broad gravel walk
+runs between the building and the river, which is always
+trim and cared for; and at the end of the walk, under
+the parapet of the approach to the bridge, is a large
+and well-worn seat, on which, in mild weather three or
+four of Hiram's bedesmen are sure to be seen seated.
+Beyond this row of buttresses, and further from the
+bridge and also further from the water which here suddenly
+bends, are the pretty oriel windows of Mr. Harding's
+house, and his well mown lawn. The entrance to
+the hospital is from the London road and is made
+through a ponderous gateway under a heavy stone arch,
+unnecessary, one would suppose, at any time, for the
+protection of twelve old men, but greatly conducive to
+the good appearance of Hiram's charity. On passing
+through this portal, never closed to any one from six
+<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> till ten <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, and never open afterwards, except on
+application to a huge, intricately hung medi&aelig;val bell,
+the handle of which no un-initiated intruder can possibly
+find, the six doors of the old men's abodes are
+seen, and beyond them is a slight iron screen, through
+which the more happy portion of the Barchester &eacute;lite
+pass into the Elysium of Mr. Harding's dwelling.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Anthony Trollope</span>, <i>The Warden.</i><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>
+<img src="images/i_044.jpg" width="550" height="442" alt="V UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS Trong&#39;s Almshouses" title="" />
+<span class="caption">V<br />
+<br />
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS<br />
+<br />
+<i>Trong&#39;s Almshouses</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>RANCONEZZO</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>SIRMIONE</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+<span class="smcap">Row</span> us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row!<br />
+So they row'd, and there we landed&mdash;"O venusta Sirmio!"<br />
+There to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow,<br />
+There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow,<br />
+Came that "Ave atque Vale" of the Poet's hopeless woe,<br />
+Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago,<br />
+"Frater Ave atque Vale"&mdash;as we wandered to and fro<br />
+Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the Garda lake below<br />
+Sweet Catullus's all-but-island, olive silvery Sirmio.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span></span>
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>
+<img src="images/i_048.jpg" width="550" height="450" alt="VI RANCONEZZO The Town and the Lake" title="" />
+<span class="caption">VI<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Town and the Lake</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE ITALIAN LAKES</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">He</span> who loves immense space, cloud shadows sailing
+over purple slopes, island gardens, distant glimpses of
+snow-capped mountains, breadth, air, immensity, and
+flooding sunlight, will choose Maggiore. But scarcely
+has he cast his vote for this, the Juno of the divine rivals,
+when he remembers the triple lovelinesses of the Larian
+Aphrodite, disclosed in all their placid grace from Villa
+Serbelloni;&mdash;the green blue of the waters, clear as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+glass, opaque through depth; the <i>millefleurs</i> roses clambering
+into cypresses by Cadenabbia; the laburnums
+hanging their yellow clusters from the clefts of Sasso
+Rancio; the oleander arcades of Varenna; the wild white
+limestone crags of San Martino, which he has climbed
+to feast his eyes with the perspective, magical, serene,
+<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Leornardesquely'">Leonardesquely</ins> perfect, of the distant gates of Adda.
+Then while this modern Paris is yet doubting, perhaps
+a thought may cross his mind of sterner solitary Lake
+Iseo&mdash;the Pallas of the three. She offers her own attractions.
+The sublimity of Monte Adamello, dominating
+Lovere and all the lowland like Hesiod's hill of Virtue
+reared aloft above the plain of common life, has
+charms to tempt heroic lovers.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Symonds</span>, <i>Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece</i>.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>PIAZZA GARIBALDI</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> painter may transfer its campanile, glittering like
+dragon's scales, to his canvas. The lover of the picturesque
+will wander through its aisle at mass-time,
+watching the sunlight play upon those upturned Southern
+faces with their ardent eyes; and happy is he who
+sees young men and maidens on Whit Sunday crowding
+round the chancel rails, to catch the marigolds and gillyflowers
+scattered from baskets which the priest has
+blessed.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Symonds</span>, <i>Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece</i>.<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>DOWN IN THE CITY</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+<span class="smcap">Is</span> it ever hot in the square? There's a fountain to spout and splash!<br />
+In the shade it sings and springs; in the shine such foam-bows flash<br />
+On the horses with curling fish-tails, that prance and paddle and pash<br />
+Round the lady atop in the conch&mdash;fifty gazers do not abash,<br />
+Though all that she wears is some weeds round her waist in a sort of a sash!<br />
+<br />
+Ere opening your eyes in the city the blessed church-bells begin:<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>No sooner the bells leave off, than the diligence rattles in:<br />
+You get the picks of the news, and it costs you never a pin.<br />
+By and by there's the travelling doctor gives pills, lets blood, draws teeth;<br />
+Or the Pulcinello-trumpet breaks up the market beneath.<br />
+At the post-office such a scene-picture&mdash;the new play, piping hot!<br />
+And a notice how, only this morning, three liberal thieves were shot.<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem2'>
+Noon strikes,&mdash;here sweeps the procession! Our lady borne smiling and smart<br />
+With a pink gauze gown all spangles, and seven swords stuck in her heart!<br />
+<i>Bang, whang, whang</i>, goes the drum; <i>tootle-te-tootle</i> the fife;<br />
+Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>
+<img src="images/i_052.jpg" width="400" height="472" alt="VII RANCONEZZO Piazza Garibaldi" title="" />
+<span class="caption">VII<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>Piazza Garibaldi</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>PIAZZA CAVOUR</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> changes of scene upon this tiny square are so
+frequent as to remind one of a theatre. Looking down
+from the inn-balcony, between the glazy green pots gay
+with scarlet amaryllis-bloom, we are inclined to fancy
+that the whole has been prepared for our amusement.
+In the morning the cover for the macaroni-flour, after
+being washed, is spread out on the bricks to dry. In the
+afternoon the fishermen bring their nets for the same
+purpose. In the evening the city magnates promenade
+and whisper. Dark-eyed women, with orange or crimson
+kerchiefs for headgear, cross and re-cross, bearing
+baskets on their shoulders. Great lazy large limbed fellows,
+girt with scarlet sashes and finished off with dark
+blue night-caps (for a contrast to their saffron-colored
+shirts, white breeches and sunburnt calves), slouch
+about or sleep face downwards on the parapets.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Symonds</span>, <i>Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece</i>.<br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 410px;">
+<img src="images/i_056.jpg" width="410" height="500" alt="VIII RANCONEZZO Piazza Cavour" title="" />
+<span class="caption">VIII<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>Piazza Cavour</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>A ROMANESQUE DOORWAY</b></div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">How</span> the hand of Time has mellowed the ruddy brick
+and the marble's whiteness until ivory and rose blend
+and are in harmony with those stained and faded frescoes
+which still remain in the panels of the upper walls.
+Columns of veined marble stand in ranks on either side
+of the entrance. They are mounted on the backs of
+stiff-maned lions. Fit supporters are these for the arches
+of the Sanctuary as, at its very door, with claw and
+tooth they tear to pieces the bestial forms of vice and
+ignorance. Above rise the moulded archivolts, tier on
+tier, clothed with vine and tendril and peopled with bird
+and beast. These may be uncouth in form, but the rude
+hands that fashioned them learned their lesson at the
+feet of Nature. What there is of convention in arrangement
+or in pattern has flowed hither through the East
+from the original fountains of Greece and Rome but
+now at last all moves in freedom and without restraint.
+As in the short nights of the North sunrise follows fast
+upon the setting of the sun, so here though we see in this
+work the sunset of the Antique yet it is already aglow
+with light from the coming dawn of Medi&aelig;val Art.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Roberts</span>, <i>Italian Sketches</i>.<br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>
+<img src="images/i_059.jpg" width="366" height="495" alt="IX RANCONEZZO North Door of Duomo" title="" />
+<span class="caption">IX<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>North Door of Duomo</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Florence</span> is more noisy; indeed, I think it the noisiest
+town I was ever in. What with the continual jangling
+of its bells, the rattle of Austrian drums, and the street
+cries, <i>Ancora mi raccapriccio</i>. The Italians are a vociferous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+people, and most so among them the Florentines.
+Walking through a back street one day, I saw an old
+woman higgling with a peripatetic dealer, who, at every
+interval afforded him by the remarks of his veteran antagonist,
+would tip his head on one side, and shout,
+with a kind of wondering enthusiasm, as if he could
+hardly trust the evidence of his own senses to such
+loveliness, <i>O, che bellezza! che belle-e-ezza!</i> The two had
+been contending as obstinately as the Greeks and Trojans
+over the body of Patroclus, and I was curious to
+know what was the object of so much desire on the one
+side and admiration on the other. It was a half dozen
+of weazeny baked pears, beggarly remnant of the day's
+traffic.... It never struck me before what a quiet
+people Americans are.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell</span>.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>WITHIN THE DUOMO</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> semi-dome of the eastern apse above the high
+altar is entirely filled with a gigantic half-length figure
+of Christ. He raises His right hand to bless and with
+His left holds an open book on which is written in Greek
+and Latin, "I am the Light of the world." ... Below
+him on a smaller scale are ranged the archangels and
+the mother of the Lord, who holds the child upon her
+knees. Thus Christ appears twice upon this wall, once
+as the Omnipotent Wisdom, the Word by whom all
+things were made, and once as God deigning to assume
+a shape of flesh and dwell with men. The magnificent
+image of supreme Deity seems to fill with a single influence
+and to dominate the whole building. The house
+with all its glory is his. He dwells there like Pallas in
+her Parthenon or Zeus in his Olympian temple. To left
+and right over every square inch of the cathedral blaze
+mosaics, which portray the story of God's dealings with
+the human race from the Creation downwards, together
+with those angelic beings and saints who symbolize
+each in his own degree some special virtue granted to
+mankind. The walls of the fane are therefore an open
+book of history, theology and ethics for all men to read.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Symonds</span>, <i>Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece</i>.<br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>
+<img src="images/i_063.jpg" width="371" height="446" alt="X RANCONEZZO Interior of the Duomo" title="" />
+<span class="caption">X<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>Interior of the Duomo</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>FROM "A LEGEND OF BRITTANY"</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Deeper</span> and deeper shudders shook the air,<br />
+As the huge bass kept gathering heavily,<br />
+Like thunder when it rouses in its lair,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>And with its hoarse growl shakes the low-hung sky,<br />
+It grew up like a darkness everywhere,<br />
+Filling the vast cathedral;&mdash;suddenly<br />
+From the dense mass a boy's clear treble broke<br />
+Like lightning, and the full-toned choir awoke.<br />
+<br />
+Through gorgeous windows shone the sun aslant,<br />
+Brimming the church with gold and purple mist.<br />
+Meet atmosphere to bosom that rich chant,<br />
+Where fifty voices in one strand did twist<br />
+Their varicolored tones and left no want<br />
+To the delighted soul, which sank abyssed<br />
+In the warm music cloud, while, far below,<br />
+The organ heaved its surges to and fro.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE VILLA</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Our</span> villa ...<br />
+... lies on the slope of the Alban hill;<br />
+Lifting its white face, sunny and still,<br />
+Out of the olives' pale gray green,<br />
+That, far away as the eye can go,<br />
+Stretch up behind it, row upon row.<br />
+There in the garden the cypresses, stirred<br />
+By the sifting winds, half musing talk,<br />
+And the cool, fresh, constant voice is heard<br />
+Of the fountain's spilling in every walk.<br />
+There stately the oleanders grow,<br />
+And one long gray wall is aglow<br />
+With golden oranges burning between<br />
+Their dark stiff leaves of sombre green.<br />
+And there are hedges all clipped and square,<br />
+As carven from blocks of malachite,<br />
+Where fountains keep spinning their threads of light<br />
+And statues whiten the shadow there.<br />
+And if the sun too fiercely shine,<br />
+And one would creep from its noonday glare,<br />
+There are galleries dark, where ilexes twine<br />
+Their branchy roofs above the head.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;"><span class="smcap">W. W. Story.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 402px;">
+<img src="images/i_067.jpg" width="402" height="500" alt="XI RANCONEZZO The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XI<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Truly</span> everything here has a dramatic character.
+The smallness and grace of this little church gleaming
+with colour, its chapels and grottoes like a spiritual vision,
+such as I have never found elsewhere in the whole
+field of religious conception. It is an illustrated picture-book
+of poetical legends, which are bloodless and
+painless, though fantastic, like the lives of pious anchorites
+in the wilderness, and amid the birds of the
+field. Here Religion treads on the borders of fairy-land,
+and brings an indescribable atmosphere away
+from thence.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Gregorovius.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>BRAMANTE</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Few</span> words record Bramante's great command,<br />
+As from some mountain silence set apart,<br />
+He blazed a trail along the way of art,<br />
+Upheld the torch and led his little band.<br />
+<br />
+He spoke alone to those who understand,<br />
+Not cheapening words within the public mart,<br />
+Living withdrawn, a high and humble heart,<br />
+Creating loveliness for his loved land.<br />
+<br />
+Though he dwelt cloistered in his northern home,<br />
+When he strode forth it was with unveiled face,<br />
+To rear a fabric that may crumble never.<br />
+<br />
+They called him "Master" when he wrought in Rome<br />
+And with earth's greatest ones shall labor ever<br />
+The hand that gave to Lombardy her grace.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;"><span class="smcap">Marion Monks Chase.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;">
+<img src="images/i_070.jpg" width="403" height="500" alt="XII RANCONEZZO Santa Prassede, the Cardinal&#39;s Church" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XII<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>Santa Prassede, the Cardinal&#39;s Church</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>IL PENSEROSO</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">But</span> let my due feet never fail<br />
+To walk the studious cloister's pale,<br />
+And love the high embow&egrave;d roof,<br />
+With antick pillars massy proof,<br />
+And storied windows richly dight,<br />
+Casting a dim religious light.<br />
+There let the pealing organ blow<br />
+To the full-voiced Quire below,<br />
+In service high and anthems clear,<br />
+As may with sweetness, through mine ear,<br />
+Dissolve me into ecstacies,<br />
+And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;"><span class="smcap">Milton.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;">
+<img src="images/i_074.jpg" width="394" height="482" alt="XIII RANCONEZZO The Cloisters of Santa Prassede" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XIII<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Cloisters of Santa Prassede</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB IN SANTA PRASSEDE</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Yet</span> still my niche is not so cramped but thence<br />
+One sees the pulpit o' the epistle-side<br />
+And somewhat of the choir, those silent seats,<br />
+And up into the aery dome, where live<br />
+The angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk;<br />
+And I shall fill my slab of basalt there,<br />
+And neath my tabernacle take my rest,<br />
+With those nine columns round me, two and two,<br />
+The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands;<br />
+Peach blossom marble all, the rare, the ripe<br />
+As fresh poured red wine of a mighty pulse.<br />
+Old Gandolph with his paltry onion-stone<br />
+Put me where I may look at him! True peach,<br />
+Rosy and faultless: ...<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Did I say basalt for my slab, sons? Black<br />
+'T was ever antique-black I meant! How else<br />
+Shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath?<br />
+The bas-relief in bronze you promised me,<br />
+Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of, and perchance<br />
+Some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so,<br />
+The Saviour at his sermon on the mount,<br />
+Saint Praxed in a glory, and one Pan<br />
+Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off,<br />
+And Moses with the tables,&mdash;but I know<br />
+Ye mark me not!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 401px;">
+<img src="images/i_077.jpg" width="401" height="487" alt="XIV RANCONEZZO The Tomb of Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti in Santa Prassede" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XIV<br />
+<br />
+RANCONEZZO<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Tomb of Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti in Santa Prassede</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>ROCHER-ST.-POL</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>FRENCH TOWNS</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is a drowsy little Burgundian town, very old and
+ripe, with crooked streets, vistas always oblique, and
+steep moss-covered roofs.... I carried away from
+Beaune the impression of something autumnal,&mdash;something
+rusty yet kindly, like the taste of a sweet
+russet pear.</p>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<p>At Le Mans as at Bourges, my first business was with
+the cathedral, to which I lost no time in directing my
+steps.... It stands on the edge of the eminence of the
+town, which falls straight away on two sides of it, and
+makes a striking mass, bristling behind, as you see it
+from below, with rather small but singularly numerous
+flying buttresses. On my way to it I happened to
+walk through the one street which contains a few ancient
+and curious houses,&mdash;a very crooked and untidy lane,
+of really medi&aelig;val aspect, honored with the denomination
+of the Grand Rue. Here is the house of Queen
+Berengaria.... The structure in question&mdash;very sketchable,
+if the sketcher could get far enough away from it&mdash;is
+an elaborate little dusky fa&ccedil;ade, overhanging the
+street, ornamented with panels of stone, which are covered
+with delicate Renaissance sculpture. A fat old
+woman, standing in the door of a small grocer's shop
+next to it,&mdash;a most gracious old woman, with a bristling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+moustache and a charming manner,&mdash;told me
+what the house was.</p>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<p>This admirable house, in the centre of the town,
+gabled, elaborately timbered, and much restored, is a
+really imposing monument. The basement is occupied
+by a linen-draper, who flourishes under the auspicious
+sign of the M&egrave;re de Famille; and above her shop the
+tall front rises in five overhanging stories. As the house
+occupies the angle of a little <i>place</i>, the front is double,
+and carved and interlaced, has a high picturesqueness.
+The Maison d'Adam is quite in the grand style, and I
+am sorry to say I failed to learn what history attaches
+to its name.</p>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<p>I remember going around to the church, after I had
+left the good sisters, and to a little quiet terrace, which
+stands in front of it, ornamented with a few small trees
+and bordered with a wall, breast high, over which you
+look down steep hillsides, off into the air, and all about
+the neighboring country. I remember saying to myself
+that this little terrace was one of those felicitous nooks
+which the tourist of taste keeps in his mind as a picture.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Henry James</span>, <i>A Little Tour in France</i>.<br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>
+<img src="images/i_080.jpg" width="393" height="445" alt="XV ROCHER-ST.-POL The Town and the River Merle" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XV<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Town and the River Merle</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>A COUNTRY TOWN</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">They</span> wake you early in this hilly town. It was
+hardly light this morning when up and down through
+all its highways went a vigorous drum beat. Reluctantly
+peeking from the window to see the troops enter our
+square I was disappointed to find that one regimental
+drummer, marching unaccompanied and lonely, had
+done all this mischief. What useful purpose did he
+serve? After a brief respite and repose the noise of another
+commotion came in with the morning air; a murmur
+which grew and became a chatter and at last a din!
+The next journey to the window showed that the morning
+market was in full swing. Piles of fresh greens and
+rich-colored vegetables were tended by gnarled old
+peasant women sitting under widespread umbrellas of
+faded colors. But what a pleasant air it was that came
+through the opened sash; a mountain air with just that
+faint flavor of garlic tinging it which presages something
+satisfying to be found later. Strengthened for a time by
+our coffee and rolls we wandered through these winding
+streets. We saw the weather-beaten, leaden fl&egrave;che of the
+cathedral high on the hill, but for the time were satisfied
+to study the many ancient houses which still remain.
+Their fronts framed in dark oak with a filling of amber-colored
+plaster topple over the public ways until they
+almost meet. Here and there the oak beams are carved,
+and grinning man or snarling monster regards you from
+corbel or boss. In places too there are bits of old Gothic
+detail and one doorway of true Flamboyant work.
+There is the true poetry of architecture! In England
+the Decorated Period gives you what is handsome, the
+Perpendicular what is stately. In France the cathedrals<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+of Paris and of Rheims are splendidly serious and
+correct; but if in Gothic work you seek imaginative,
+unrestrained, carelessly free poetry it is to be found in
+the flowing lines and exuberant fancy of the work of the
+Flamboyant period.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 412px;"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>
+<img src="images/i_084.jpg" width="412" height="491" alt="XVI ROCHER-ST.-POL La Grande Rue and La Place de la R&eacute;publique" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XVI<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>La Grande Rue and La Place de la R&eacute;publique</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We found much needed restoration in the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'hors-&oelig;uvres'">hors-d'&oelig;uvres</ins>,
+the omelette, the cutlet, the salads and the
+cheese of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'd'&eacute;jeuner'">d&eacute;jeuner</ins>,&mdash;and then followed coffee under the
+awning of the caf&eacute;. Here we looked out on the Grand
+Place which had now become sleepy, all signs of the
+market and its business having disappeared. On it front
+the Mairie, the Bureau des Postes, the H&ocirc;tel du Lion
+d'Or and various centres of local commerce. We watched
+our neighbors in the caf&eacute;; the colonel with clanking
+sword in vigorous discussion with a local magnate; the
+retired bourgeois who played a desultory game of billiards
+or a deeply thought out match at dominoes. A
+quiet square it was now, and, in the shade of its plane
+trees, comfortable and at peace with the world, we fell
+asleep and made up for the wakefulness of our earlier
+hours.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Roberts</span>, <i>Letters from France.</i><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">High</span> throned above th' encircling meadows fair<br />
+Our Lady of the Rocks holds queenly sway!<br />
+Bright kerchiefed peasants daily wend their way<br />
+With clattering sabots up the winding stair,<br />
+Pausing at each rude rock-hewn station, there<br />
+To bend the knee and many an Ave say.<br />
+Up, up they climb, their voices echoing gay<br />
+Till by the Virgin's shrine they kneel in prayer.<br />
+<br />
+This is that "Jacob's Ladder" famed afar<br />
+To which the Kings of France made pilgrimage<br />
+Asking for favors both in Peace and War.<br />
+Well named!&mdash;for Heavenwards the way is tending,<br />
+And all these happy, pious folk presage<br />
+Angels of God ascending and descending.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">H. L. P.</span><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">But</span>, when so sad thou canst no sadder,<br />
+Cry, and upon thy so sore loss<br />
+Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder<br />
+Pitched between heaven and Charing Cross.<br />
+<br />
+So in the night my soul, my daughter,<br />
+Cry, clinging heaven by the hems,<br />
+And lo! Christ walking on the water<br />
+Not of Gennesaret but Thames.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><span class="smcap">Francis Thompson.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;">
+<img src="images/i_088.jpg" width="393" height="491" alt="XVII ROCHER-ST.-POL L&#39;escalier de Jacob" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XVII<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>L&#39;escalier de Jacob</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='poem'><br /><br />
+<span class="smcap">Oft</span> have I seen at some cathedral door<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor</span><br />
+Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far off the noises of the world retreat;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The loud vociferations of the street</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Become an undistinguishable roar.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So as I enter here from day to day,</span><br />
+And leave my burden at this minster gate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray,</span><br />
+The tumult of the time disconsolate<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To inarticulate murmurs dies away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the eternal ages watch and wait.</span><br />
+<br />
+How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This crowd of statues, on whose folded sleeves</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers</span><br />
+And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers!</span><br />
+Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What exultations trampling on despair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong,</span><br />
+What passionate outcry of the soul in pain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uprose this poem of the earth and air,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This medi&aelig;val miracle of song!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;"><span class="smcap">H. W. Longfellow.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 408px;">
+<img src="images/i_091.jpg" width="408" height="530" alt="XVIII ROCHER-ST.-POL Le Parvis de Ste Fr&eacute;digonde" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XVIII<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>Le Parvis de Ste Fr&eacute;digonde</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE CATHEDRAL</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Looking</span> up suddenly, I found mine eyes<br />
+Confronted with the minster's vast repose.<br />
+Silent and gray as forest-leaguered cliff<br />
+Left inland by the ocean's slow retreat.<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+It rose before me, patiently remote<br />
+From the great tides of life it breasted once,<br />
+Hearing the noise of men as in a dream<br />
+I stood before the triple northern port,<br />
+Where dedicated shapes of saints and kings,<br />
+Stern faces bleared with immemorial watch,<br />
+Looked down benignly grave and seemed to say,<br />
+<i>Ye come and go incessant; we remain<br />
+Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past;<br />
+Be reverent, ye who flit and are forgot,<br />
+Of faith so nobly realized as this.<br /></i>
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>CHARTRES</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">All</span> day the sky had been banked with thunderclouds,
+but by the time we reached Chartres, toward four
+o'clock, they had rolled away under the horizon, and
+the town was so saturated with sunlight that to pass into
+the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a
+church in Spain. At first all detail was imperceptible:
+we were in a hollow night. Then, as the shadows gradually
+thinned and gathered themselves up into pier and
+vault and ribbing, there burst out of them great sheets
+and showers of color. Framed by such depths of darkness,
+and steeped in a blaze of mid-summer sun, the
+familiar windows seemed singularly remote and yet
+overpoweringly vivid. Now they widened into dark-shored
+pools splashed with sunset, now glittered and
+menaced like the shields of fighting angels. Some were
+cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped from a
+saint's tunic, others great carven platters strewn with
+heavenly regalia, others the sails of galleons bound for
+the Purple Islands; and in the western wall the scattered
+fires of the rose window hung like a constellation in an
+African night. When one dropped one's eyes from these
+ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below
+them, all veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few
+altar lights, seemed to symbolize the life on earth, with
+its shadows, its heavy distances and its little islands of
+illusions. All that a great cathedral can be, all the meanings
+it can express, all the tranquillizing power it can
+breathe upon the soul, all the richness of detail it can
+fuse into a large utterance of strength and beauty, the
+cathedral of Chartres gave us in that perfect hour.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">Edith Wharton</span>, <i>Fighting France.</i><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;">
+<img src="images/i_095.jpg" width="378" height="483" alt="XIX ROCHER-ST.-POL Interior of the Church of Ste Fr&eacute;digonde" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XIX<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>Interior of the Church of Ste Fr&eacute;digonde</i></span>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>AT HIGH MASS</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">Thou</span> Who hast made this world so wondrous fair;&mdash;<br />
+The pomp of clouds; the glory of the sea;<br />
+Music of water; songbirds' melody;<br />
+The organ of Thy thunder in the air;<br />
+Breath of the rose; and beauty everywhere&mdash;<br />
+Lord, take this stately service done to Thee,<br />
+The grave enactment of Thy Calvary<br />
+In jewelled pomp and splendor pictured there!<br />
+<br />
+Lord, take the sounds and sights; the silk and gold;<br />
+The white and scarlet; take the reverent grace<br />
+Of ordered step; window and glowing wall&mdash;<br />
+Prophet and Prelate, holy men of old;<br />
+And teach us children of the Holy Place<br />
+Who love Thy Courts, to love Thee best of all.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE LAMP OF SACRIFICE</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">All</span> else for which the builders sacrificed, has passed
+away&mdash;all their living interests, and aims, and
+achievements. We know not for what they labored, and
+we see no evidence of their reward. Victory, wealth,
+authority, happiness&mdash;all have departed, though
+bought by many a bitter sacrifice. But of them, and
+their life and their toil upon the earth, one reward, one
+evidence, is left to us in those gray heaps of deep-wrought
+stone. They have taken with them to the
+grave their powers, their honors, and their errors; but
+they have left us their adoration.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+<span class="smcap">John Ruskin.</span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 328px;">
+<img src="images/i_098.jpg" width="328" height="438" alt="XX ROCHER-ST.-POL Sacristy Steps in the Church of Ste Fr&eacute;digonde" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XX<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>Sacristy Steps in the Church of Ste Fr&eacute;digonde</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+<div class='center'><br /><b>HUNTING THE STAG</b></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">We</span> spent yesterday in the For&ecirc;t de C&mdash;&mdash;. As the
+Emperor had guests we were not admitted at the Ch&acirc;teau,
+but we tramped for long through the woods. The
+grassy roads run beneath the embowering beeches
+straight from carrefour to carrefour. The gnarled and
+twisted trunks give to each tree a personal character
+and make it a master-piece of Nature. Of a sudden we
+came on the Imperial hunt winding in gay procession
+through the forest to its rendezvous. Hunting horns in
+triple rings of brass encircled the leading horsemen.
+From time to time we heard from them the familiar
+strains which echo through the Latin Quarter at Mi-Car&ecirc;me.
+Then followed in brilliant liveries a troop of
+lackeys, grooms, and other servants, and the pack of
+staghounds held in leash but sniffing and yelping. Next
+came the hunters themselves on high-bred mounts and
+in court costumes of ancient design. Lastly there were
+barouches and landaus carrying the ladies of the Court
+"en grande tenue." The sunlight flickering through the
+beech branches enlivened this brilliant train as it
+wound through the forest glades and disappeared down
+a green all&eacute;e.</p>
+
+<p>We had continued our walk for scarce a mile when,
+but a short distance from us, a stag crossed our path&mdash;stood
+startled&mdash;with head erect,&mdash;and then with confident
+leaps vanished in the forest just as the distant
+hounds became aware of him and joined in a wild
+chorus. In a few moments the pack came in a rush
+across our path. Up the different all&eacute;es rode the horsemen
+in haste&mdash;asking of us news of the stag. We on
+foot joined in the pursuit,&mdash;but at last the forest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+swallowed one after the other, stag, and hounds, and
+hunters, and the sound of dog and horn.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>
+<img src="images/i_101.jpg" width="394" height="484" alt="XXI ROCHER-ST.-POL The Ch&acirc;teau Beaumesnil" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XXI<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Ch&acirc;teau Beaumesnil</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>On leaving the forest we passed the small Ch&acirc;teau.
+Its conical turret roofs and lofty chimneys, and its
+flashing finials and girouettes make a brave show above
+the forest trees. The terraces overlook wide meadow
+lands through which the river winds until it is lost in the
+hazy distance.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'><span class="smcap">Roberts</span>, <i>Letters from France.</i></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>CLOTILDE</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">In</span> Geraudun were brothers three,<br />
+They had one sister dear;<br />
+The cruel Baron her lord must be,<br />
+And the fellest and fiercest knight is he<br />
+In the country far or near.<br />
+<br />
+He beat that lovely lady sore<br />
+With a staff of the apple green,<br />
+Till her blood flowed down on the castle floor,<br />
+And from head to foot the crimson gore<br />
+On her milk-white robe was seen.<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+Her robe was stained with the ruby tide<br />
+Once pure as the fleece so white;<br />
+And she hied her to the river-side<br />
+To wash in the waters bright.<br />
+<br />
+While there she stood three knights so gay<br />
+Came riding bold and free.<br />
+"Ho! tell us young serving maiden, pray<br />
+Where yon castle's lady may be?"<br />
+<br />
+"Alas! no serving maid am I,<br />
+But the lady of yonder castle high!"<br />
+<br />
+"O sister, sister, truly tell<br />
+Who did this wrong to thee?"<br />
+<br />
+"Dear brothers it was the husband fell<br />
+To whom you married me."<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p><div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+The brothers spurred their steeds in haste<br />
+And the castle soon they gained.<br />
+From chamber to chamber they swiftly passed<br />
+Nor paused till they reached the tower at last<br />
+Where the felon knight remained:<br />
+<br />
+They drew their swords so sharp and bright<br />
+They thought on their sister sweet;<br />
+They struck together the felon knight,<br />
+And his head rolled at their feet!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>Translated by</i> <span class="smcap">Louis S. Costello.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 373px;"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>
+<img src="images/i_105.jpg" width="373" height="450" alt="XXII ROCHER-ST.-POL La Tour de la Dame Blanche" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XXII<br />
+<br />
+ROCHER-ST.-POL<br />
+<br />
+<i>La Tour de la Dame Blanche</i></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>AEGINASSOS</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE ISLES OF GREECE</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">The</span> isles of Greece! The isles of Greece!<br />
+Where burning Sappho loved and sung,&mdash;<br />
+Where grew the arts of war and peace,&mdash;<br />
+Where Delos rose and Ph&oelig;bus sprung!<br />
+Eternal summer gilds them yet<br />
+But all, except their sun, is set.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span></span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>THE ODYSSEY</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">As</span> one that for a weary space has lain<br />
+Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine<br />
+In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,<br />
+Where the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '&AElig;&aelig;ean'">&AElig;gean</ins> isle forgets the main,<br />
+And only the low lutes of love complain,<br />
+And only shadows of wan lovers pine,&mdash;<br />
+As such an one were glad to know the brine<br />
+Salt on his lips, and the large air again,&mdash;<br />
+So gladly from the songs of modern speech<br />
+Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free<br />
+Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,<br />
+And through the music of the languid hours<br />
+They hear, like Ocean on a western beach,<br />
+The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;"><span class="smcap">Andrew Lang.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 548px;">
+<img src="images/i_109.jpg" width="548" height="453" alt="XXIII Aeginassos The Temple and the Forum" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XXIII<br />
+<br />
+Aeginassos<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Temple and the Forum</i></span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><b>ULYSSES</b></div>
+
+<div class='center'><b>.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</b></div>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+<span class="smcap">There</span> lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;<br />
+There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,<br />
+Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me&mdash;<br />
+That ever with a frolic welcome took<br />
+The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed<br />
+Free hearts, free foreheads&mdash;you and I are old;<br />
+Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;<br />
+Death closes all; but something ere the end,<br />
+Some work of noble note, may yet be done,<br />
+Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.<br />
+The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;<br />
+The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs: the deep<br />
+Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,<br />
+'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.<br />
+Push off, and sitting well in order smite<br />
+The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds<br />
+To sail beyond the sunset, and the paths<br />
+Of all the western stars, until I die.<br />
+It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;<br />
+It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,<br />
+And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.<br />
+Though much is taken, much abides; and though<br />
+We are not now that strength which in old days<br />
+Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;<br />
+One equal temper of heroic hearts,<br />
+Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will<br />
+To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;"><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson.</span></span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;">
+<img src="images/i_112.jpg" width="404" height="500" alt="XXIV Aeginassos The Temple and the Forum" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XXIV<br />
+<br />
+Aeginassos<br />
+<br />
+<i>The Temple and the Forum</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+The Riverside Press<br />
+CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS<br />
+U . S . A<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+
+<p>Text uses both Aeginossis and &AElig;ginassos.</p>
+
+<p>Some illustrations had to be relocated so that they did not interrupt
+paragraphs or stanzas of poetry. However, the table of contents links to the illustration.</p>
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hospital Sketches, by Robert Swain Peabody
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hospital Sketches
+
+Author: Robert Swain Peabody
+
+Release Date: February 15, 2011 [EBook #35289]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOSPITAL SKETCHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HOSPITAL SKETCHES
+
+1916
+
+
+
+
+HOSPITAL SKETCHES
+
+BY
+
+ROBERT SWAIN PEABODY
+
+
+          BOSTON & NEW YORK
+          HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
+          _The Riverside Press Cambridge_
+          1916
+
+
+
+
+          COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY ROBERT SWAIN PEABODY
+          ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+          _Published December 1916_
+
+
+          "_Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
+            Enwrought with golden and silver light,
+            The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
+            Of night and light and the half light;
+            I would spread the cloths under your feet:
+            But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
+            I have spread my dreams under your feet;
+            Tread softly because you tread on my dreams._"
+                                               W. B. YEATS.
+
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENTS are made to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for
+permission to use a passage from Edith Wharton's _Fighting France_ and
+to The Macmillan Company for the use of the poem "Aedh wishes for the
+Cloths of Heaven," by W. B. Yeats.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  INTRODUCTION                                              ix
+
+  VIEW FROM THE HOSPITAL TERRACE                             1
+
+  UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+      I. The Minster and the Meadows                         3
+     II. The Church Yard                                     7
+    III. The Village                                        11
+     IV. The Hall                                           15
+      V. Trong's Almshouses                                 19
+
+  RANCONEZZO
+     VI. The Town and the Lake                              23
+    VII. Piazza Garibaldi                                   27
+   VIII. Piazza Cavour                                      31
+     IX. North Door of the Duomo                            35
+      X. Interior of the Duomo                              39
+     XI. The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti        43
+    XII. Santa Prassede, the Cardinal's Church              47
+   XIII. The Cloisters of Sta Prassede                      51
+    XIV. The Tomb of the Cardinal in Sta Prassede           55
+
+  ROCHER-ST.-POL
+     XV. The Town and the River Merle                       59
+    XVI. La Grande Rue and La Place de la Republique        63
+   XVII. L'escalier de Jacob                                67
+  XVIII. Le Parvis de Ste Fredigonde                        71
+    XIX. Interior of the Church of Ste Fredigonde           75
+     XX. Sacristy Steps in the Church of Ste Fredigonde     79
+    XXI. The Chateau Beaumesnil                             83
+   XXII. La Tour de la Dame Blanche                         87
+
+  AEGINASSOS
+  XXIII. The Temple and the Forum                           91
+   XXIV. The Temple and the Forum                           95
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+                                              JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL,
+                                               BALTIMORE, MARYLAND,
+                                                _December, 1915._
+
+ONE of my good friends, a stanch upholder of what to him is "The
+Catholic Church," looks back to the thirteenth century as marking the
+highest tide of Christian civilization. He longs for a restoration (but
+under other rule) of that monastic life which then gave shelter to Art,
+Science, Learning, and Religion. It does not appear that this longing is
+coupled with any regret for the exceptionally happy domestic life with
+which he personally has been blessed. Probably his hopes are that even
+if he establishes, others will maintain, that monastic life and
+discipline which, duly purified from Ultramontane tendencies, he thinks
+would be so uplifting and beneficial to our times.
+
+However that may be, if he is ever immured for many weeks in a great
+hospital, he will be surprised to find how many are the similarities
+between its life, its discipline and its atmosphere, and those of the
+great monasteries. I mean those mediaeval houses which spread from the
+parent at Monte Cassino to Citeaux and Cluny and Vezelay and thence to
+far-away parts of Europe, and which were even more abundant in England
+where the ruins of the Yorkshire Abbeys still attest to their former
+power. When the time is ripe for the change longed for by our friend he
+will find that very slight additions to a modern hospital will give him
+what he wants in great perfection.
+
+Grateful though I am to them--deeply grateful--yet I know little of the
+personal history of the founder of this great hospital which now
+shelters me, or of that "Diamond Jim Brady" who built and endowed this
+noble wing. Still, I feel sure that in many ways these benefactors to
+their race made their gifts under much the same conditions as those
+barons and nobles of old who, led by some deep feeling, devoted their
+wealth to the saving, not only of their own souls, but of the souls and
+bodies of their fellow men.
+
+Moreover, if the benefactors who founded and endowed this hospital
+resembled the men and women who made possible the powerful monasteries
+of the Middle Ages, there is also a resemblance to be found between the
+service that the monks rendered in their day to humanity and knowledge
+and that devotion which to-day inspires the staff of a great modern
+hospital. In this very building are housed and in constant attendance a
+large number of doctors, surgeons and orderlies. Their quarters, though
+in many ways like those in a modern club, are almost equally like the
+cells of a great monastery. There probably is not one of the staff who
+was not turned to his profession in some degree by the thought that it
+would make him of service to mankind. In another wing live several
+hundred nurses. The strength and health and happiness which appear in
+the faces of these young women attest to the good effect for women as
+well as for men of discipline and regular attention to duty. What a
+shining example is theirs of faithful and altruistic service to
+suffering humanity! Indeed a generous, helpful and encouraging spirit
+pervades all the men and women who form the staff of the hospital.
+Theirs is a single-minded and unwearying attention which no monks could
+have excelled, nor could the monasteries ever have offered a wider
+charity than that which makes white and colored, Hebrew and Gentile,
+poor and rich all objects of the kindly help of a skilful and devoted
+company.
+
+I know that the kernel and very centre of the monastery was the lighted
+altar in the chapel where daily the sacred mysteries were enacted. That
+is what our friend will need to add to his perfected institution;--and
+yet--and yet--I doubt if the atmosphere will be very different when that
+is done. Although this place is world-famous as a centre of scientific
+research and of applied science,--though, in general, religion here is
+worked out in terms of service,--yet there are signs that the spirit has
+recognition as well as the physical body. To-day, in the great entrance
+rotunda stands a colossal and impressive statue of Christ, his hands
+outstretched welcoming the weary and the heavy-laden. The several
+hundred nurses have daily prayers together before they begin their
+unselfish work. At the dawn of Christmas morning, the doctors, nurses
+and orderlies make the halls resound with the carols suited to the day;
+and we hear how one convalescent who was praising his doctor's power
+over his ailments was surprised by the reply, "It was another power than
+mine that did it!" Perhaps he meant that miraculous servant Radium;
+perhaps he meant Nature herself; perhaps he meant something beyond
+these. He did not explain.
+
+This devotion with which the staff is consecrated to altruistic labor is
+met by a spirit of buoyant gratitude from those on whom they minister.
+Our ward is vibrant with it. Perhaps this is not true at the very first.
+The patient arrives in misery. For a few days he is perhaps made even
+more miserable. But during this time he is in seclusion and not visible
+to his comrades. Soon he rallies. In bed or wheel chair he joins other
+convalescents on the roof terrace. They compare notes over their
+operations. They settle among themselves all those great pending
+questions which have been engrossing the active outside world and,
+looking forward to returning health and strength, a very joyous spirit
+pervades the group. These not too inviting surroundings abound,
+therefore, in a hearty thankfulness--a thankfulness abundant and
+sincere, and not unlike what it would be if it were offered amid solemn
+rites and with majestic music before the glowing altar of a monastery.
+
+But in these early days of seclusion the lonely patient has opportunity
+for much thinking. Lying in bed in a room which, as a recent writer
+described it, is richly decorated with a white ceiling, four white
+walls, a door, a window and a floor, he has indeed time for thought and
+for thought without distraction.
+
+Surrounded as he is by the sick and the maimed, perhaps one of the first
+subjects on which he is led to ponder is the mystery of Pain. What does
+it all mean that a God otherwise beneficent should impose on the
+creatures he has brought into the world illness and suffering? Even
+Prince Siddartha wondered at it:
+
+          "Since if, all powerful, he leaves it so,
+           He is not good; and if not powerful,
+           He is not God?"
+
+In better mood the patient may wonder whether his personal share of pain
+is in any sense a penance or atonement for his own past sins. This is a
+thought which is natural and acceptable perhaps to most minds. But the
+Saints and Martyrs testifying to their faith went farther and not only
+submitted to but gladly sought pain and suffering. Now pain and agony
+well endured undoubtedly strengthen character. Have we not a vivid
+example of this before us in the catastrophe of the European war; a war
+which is saved from being wholly evil and dreadful because out of it has
+come the spiritual regeneration of the allied nations who are engulfed
+in it? Still it can hardly be expected that ordinary flesh and blood
+should in this world, so full of love and beauty, invite and seek out
+suffering and disaster even in order to bear them bravely. Enough for
+most of us that if doomed to walk with them we
+
+          "Turn the necessity to glorious gain."
+
+But all the same it must be a happy thing for a sufferer if he can hope
+with the Martyrs that pain borne with fortitude may be offered as a
+sacrifice and atonement.
+
+In these dull and lonely moments also one inevitably asks whether it is
+true that people exist who are stolid to pain? One may consecrate it
+before it comes and after it goes, but to most of us feeble folk pain
+when present occupies the whole limelight and leaves the rest of the
+stage in darkness! The only inmate of the hospital who stirred my temper
+was a patient who on making a rapid recovery from what he described as
+a very severe operation said he had refused ether and did not mind pain.
+I regained my equanimity when an orderly confided to me that the
+operation had been slight!
+
+In health one is apt to think that Love is the great motive power of
+humanity. In illness and suffering Pain seems the great and pressing
+problem. They often go hand in hand and perhaps it is true that without
+them both life has not rendered its full wealth or its perfect
+discipline. "The ennobling depths of pain" need also "the purifying fire
+of love" to round out a perfect character.
+
+          "Incomprehensibly Love's will doth move
+           Through this blind world in ways we cannot see,
+           Death giving birth to life. So does deep sorrow
+           Give birth to rarer joy on some glad morrow."
+
+These and many such questions can be as solemn, as perplexing and as
+engrossing as any that exercised the inmates of the Monastery to which
+we here find so much resemblance. As a contrast to such heart-searching
+thoughts the patient can wonder at the properties of that radium by
+which he may have been treated. How astonishing is it that this atom of
+matter should constantly emit rays which search out and destroy evil
+tissues and leave unharmed the good; and that they do this without any
+perceptible diminution of energy! How contrary this is to all we have
+hitherto known of the conservation of energy and of the impossibility
+of obtaining perpetual motion or continued power! What is so contrary to
+our preconceived ideas proves itself, however, by experience efficient
+in an almost supernatural or miraculous manner. Perhaps fatigued by
+these thoughts the patient can turn from them and closing his eyes begin
+to count "The flock of sheep that leisurely pass by one after one" and
+by happy chance submit himself to sleep.
+
+The roof terrace has a wide view over the City of Baltimore, as well as
+of the heavens which encompass it. We sit there in our wheel chairs or
+lie tucked up in our rolling beds and talk flows freely. We watch the
+flocks of pigeons making endless circles in the upper air; the black and
+solemn buzzards hanging above us unmoved though the gale blow ever so
+fiercely; the cloud shadows moving over the panorama; the haze of mist
+and steam and smoke floating over the City; the ever-changing pageant of
+fleeting clouds and blue sky and blazing sunsets. At one time--
+
+          "And when the wind from place to place
+           Doth the unmoored cloud galleons chase"--
+
+we follow the white fleets as they sail away towards the south, ever
+replaced by new armadas surging up and over the northern horizon. At
+another time in range beyond range of snowy clouds, we see rise before
+us the Delectable Mountains beyond which is the Land of Beulah where the
+shining ones go to and fro as messengers to the Celestial City.
+
+It is said that an eye unused to the telescope cannot see the canals on
+the planet Mars, but that through the same instrument they are plainly
+visible to an eye trained to such observation. Sometimes, when the
+clouds have hung in white masses over the city, I have been eager to see
+what was hidden by those luminous walls, but my untrained eyes could not
+pierce them. Day after day, however, I became more familiar with them.
+Others before now, without journeying like Columbus to prove the truth
+of his visions, have, even by their own firesides, enjoyed Castles in
+the Air and Chateaux and great possessions in Spain. In like manner as
+the breeze moved the silver edges of the clouds, I had unexpectedly
+through the rifts views of strange lands and fair cities which I had
+never before seen or heard of. As they were indeed lovely, in all haste
+I tried to make rapid notes of them to prove the truth of my strange
+experience.
+
+Far to the north over Homewood, a pile of mountainous clouds was rent
+for a short space by the breeze, and disclosed a Minster in a meadow
+land. Its name seemed to be Upthorpe-cum-Regis. Its tower rose before me
+over the busy life of the town and looked down on the mansion of the
+Squire and the house of the Dean. Close around the walls of the Minster,
+indeed within sound of its prayers and anthems, were clustered the
+graves of the dead,--the former generations who had made the life of the
+town and who built the church and worshipped at its altar. It was a town
+in which the characters described by Trollope or George Eliot or Jane
+Austen would have felt themselves at home.
+
+Again when a sunset was filling the western sky with "the incomparable
+pomp of eve," a break in the clouds above the gilded towers of Cardinal
+Gibbons's Cathedral disclosed an Italian town on a lovely lake shore.
+Boats with colored sails lined the Riva of Ranconezzo. Two piazzas
+teeming with life surrounded the Duomo or Cathedral and from them there
+were wide views over lake and mountain scenery. It appears that in the
+long ago, the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti was the benefactor of this
+town, and there on the hillside, tree embowered, was his villa with its
+little port for the lake boats. His tomb I also saw, not in the Duomo,
+but in the Bramantesque Church of Santa Prassede, a building resembling
+the many small churches in northern Italy due to the refined influence
+of Bramante. In my dreaming I entered the church, and found that the
+great Cardinal lies beneath a tomb carved by Mino da Fiesole on the
+north side of Santa Prassede.
+
+Then on a cool and crisp day when clouds were scudding through the sky,
+between them there was revealed to me a French town that seemed to bear
+the name of Rocher-St.-Pol. There was the river Merle winding its way
+through meadow and woodland. A range of hills bounded the horizon and
+from the plain rose the Rock. Not far away the ruined castle of "La Dame
+Blanche" crowned a steep hill, and close to the town was the Chateau
+Beaumesnil, beetling over the wooded hillside and bristling with conical
+towers and burnished girouettes. The Grande Rue of Rocher-St.-Pol I saw
+winding between gabled and half-timbered houses towards the church on
+the summit, and finally a long flight of stairs called by the people
+Jacob's ladder brings the pilgrim to the terrace in front of the church
+door. The interior of Ste. Fredigonde showed me the same period of
+French Gothic which marks the cathedrals of Notre Dame at Paris and
+Rheims. Coming out from Jacob's ladder upon the Parvis, there was a wide
+view over the meadows and the river. At the moment when the cathedral
+door was disclosed to me, a procession of clergy bearing sacred relics
+emerged from the church. It passed between the ranks of prophets and
+martyrs whose effigies flank the portal, and vanished with its banners
+and vestments down the long incline of Jacob's ladder towards the old
+town.
+
+And finally came a dismal day, at the end of which the west was lined
+with long streaks of red, and, just before sunset, through a lengthened
+break in the gray, I seemed to see an Island in the far AEgean. I think
+it must have been somewhere between the AEgina that looks across the
+waters to the Athenian Acropolis and the Assos which my friends in their
+youth dug from its grave. Let us call it AEginassos. Its buildings as I
+dimly saw them are in a remarkable condition of preservation. The white
+temple stood out on a promontory over the sea, and brought back to
+memory the temple-crowned headland at Sunium. Higher on the
+mountain-side was the Forum with its terraces and long colonnades. Steep
+and winding paths descended to the ancient port, and far across the
+water rose the heights of the Isles of Greece.
+
+Here are the records of what I was privileged to see from the roof
+terrace of the Hospital. Made in bed or wheel chair and depending on the
+passing imagination of an invalid, the sketches are of necessity crude.
+Would that instead they were like the work of Claude or Turner, who were
+the great experts at seeing visions in the clouds and in transferring
+them to their paper! These drawings will, however, be a reminder that
+idle hours can be passed happily even during a long captivity! Opposite
+each drawing I have placed some quotations from various writers.
+Although these do not describe with exactness the places which no eye
+but mine has seen, yet they do picture others very like those which I
+saw from the hospital terrace.
+
+A day at last arrived when the patient was suddenly released. After
+being the object of tender care for many weeks the outer world seemed
+very large and very hustling. It was with a certain timidity and almost
+with reluctance that facing it all he left the peaceful quiet of the
+Johns Hopkins Hospital.
+
+
+          SKETCHES
+          AT
+          THE
+          JOHNS HOPKINS
+          HOSPITAL
+
+[Illustration:
+
+          "So shall the drudge in dusty frock
+           Spy behind the city clock
+           Retinues of airy things
+           Troops of angels, starry wings,
+           His fathers shining in bright fables
+           His children fed at heavenly tables."
+                                      OCTOBER 1915]
+
+
+
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+
+THE RIVER
+
+IT was one of their happy mornings. They trotted along and sat down
+together, with no thought that life would ever change much for them;
+they would only get bigger and not go to school, and it would be always
+like the holiday; they would always live together and be fond of each
+other. And the mill with its booming--the great chestnut tree under
+which they played at house--their own little river, the Ripple, where
+the banks seemed like home, and Tom was always seeing water-rats while
+Maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the reeds which she forgot, and
+dropped afterwards--above all, the great Floss, along which they
+wandered with a sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide, the
+awful Eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the Great Ash
+which had once wailed and groaned like a man--these things would always
+be just the same to them. Tom thought people were at a disadvantage who
+lived in any other spot of the globe; and Maggie when she read about
+Christiana passing "the river over which there is no bridge," always saw
+the Floss between the green pastures by the Great Ash.
+
+                                                      GEORGE ELIOT.
+
+[Illustration: I
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Minster and the Meadows_]
+
+
+THE MINSTER
+
+  STRONG as time, and as faith sublime,--clothed round with
+      shadows of hopes and fears,
+  Nights and morrows, and joys and sorrows, alive with passion
+      of prayers and tears,--
+  Stands the shrine that has seen decline eight hundred waxing
+      and waning years.
+  Tower set square to the storms of air and change of season
+      that blooms and glows,
+  Wall and roof of it tempest proof, and equal even to suns
+      and snows,
+  Bright with riches of radiant niches and pillars smooth as
+      a straight stem grows.
+                                              A. SWINBURNE.
+
+
+ELEGY
+
+          NOW fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
+          And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
+          Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
+          And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade
+          Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap
+          Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+          The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
+          The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
+          The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
+          No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
+                                                 GRAY.
+
+
+THE CHURCHYARD
+
+IT was a very quiet place, as such a place should be, save for the
+cawing of the rooks who had built their nest among the branches of some
+tall old trees, and were calling to one another, high up in the air.
+First one sleek bird, hovering near his ragged house as it swung and
+dangled in the wind, uttered his hoarse cry, quite by chance as it would
+seem, and in a sober tone as though he were but talking to himself.
+Another answered, and he called again, but louder than before; then
+another spoke and then another; and each time the first, aggravated by
+contradiction, insisted on his case more strongly. Other voices, silent
+till now, struck in from boughs lower down and higher up and midway, and
+to the right and left, and from the tree-tops; and others arriving
+hastily from the grey church turrets and old belfry window, joined the
+clamour which rose and fell, and swelled and dropped again, and still
+went on; and all this noisy contention amidst a skimming to and fro, and
+lighting on fresh branches, and frequent changes of place, which
+satirized the old restlessness of those who lay so still beneath the
+moss and turf below, and the useless strife in which they had worn away
+their lives.
+
+                                                  CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+
+[Illustration: II
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Church Yard_]
+
+
+THE PARSON
+
+AS I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good
+man whom I have just now mentioned? and without staying for my answer
+told me, that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at
+his own table; for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at
+the university to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than
+much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and,
+if possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon. "My friend,"
+says Sir Roger, found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments
+required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not
+show it. I have given him the parsonage of the parish; and because I
+know his value, have settled on him a good annuity for life. . . .
+
+At his first settling with me, I made him a present of all the good
+sermons which have been printed in English, and only begged of him that
+every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly
+he has digested them into such a series, that they follow one another
+naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity.
+
+As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking of
+came up to us, and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow,
+for it was Saturday night, told us, the bishop of St. Asaph in the
+morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then showed us his list of
+preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure,
+Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with
+several living authors who have published discourses of practical
+divinity.
+
+                                                       ADDISON.
+
+
+THE SWAN INN
+
+LAST night I lay at the Swan Inn in Lathbury town. A sad night I had of
+it! My chamber was warmed fair enough by a fire of sea coal. There was a
+sweet smell of lavender in the sheets which a hot warming pan had also
+made comfortable. All this promised well, but Polly had forgot to put my
+silk night cap into my saddlebags! That vexed me sore! All night I felt
+I was taking a rheum. Some clodhoppers roystering in the tap room
+forbade sleep at first and as I am not wont to hear the quarters
+stricken the Abbey bells roused me at frequent intervals and made me
+swear roundly. About midnight the Royal Mail rolled over the bridge with
+a noise fit to wake the Seven Sleepers! The hoof beats of its cattle
+echoed on the stone walls of the houses like a salute by His Majesty's
+Footguards! How I ached for my quiet chambers in the Temple. At length I
+fell to sleep and so sound that when I waked the sun had long been
+shining through my lattice. I was late in meeting the Squire and the
+Vicar, and that too after making express this arduous ride. Indeed I was
+vexed--and I showed it.
+
+                                             SWAIN'S _Old Salop._
+
+
+THE Swan is a venerable and rambling building, stretching itself lazily
+with outspread arms; one of those inns (long may they be preserved from
+the rebuilders!) on which one stumbles up or down into every room, and
+where eggs and bacon have an appropriateness that make them a more
+desirable food than ambrosia. The little parlor is wainscotted with the
+votive paintings--a village Diploma Gallery--of artists who have made
+the Swan their home.
+
+                                                E. V. LUCAS.
+
+[Illustration: III
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Village_]
+
+
+ONE almost expects to see a fine green moss all over an inhabitant of
+Steyning. One day as I passed through the town I saw a man painting a
+new sign over a shop, a proceeding that so aroused my curiosity that I
+stood for a minute or two to look on. The painter filled in one letter,
+gave a huge yawn, looked up and down two or three times as if he had
+lost something, and finally descended from his perch and disappeared.
+Five weeks later I passed that way again, and it is a fact that the same
+man was at work on the same sign. Perhaps when the reader takes the walk
+I am about to recommend to his attention--a walk which comprises some of
+the finest scenery in Sussex--that sign will be finished, and the
+accomplished artist will have begun another; but I doubt it. There is
+plenty of time for everything in Steyning.
+
+                                                  LOUIS JENNINGS.
+
+
+THE OLD COUNTRY HOUSE
+
+IF our old English folk could not get an arched roof, then they loved
+to have it pointed, with polished timber beams on which the eye rested
+as on looking upwards through a tree. Their rooms they liked of many
+shapes, and not at right angles on the corners, nor all on the same
+dead level of flooring. You had to go up a step into one, and down a
+step into another, and along a winding passage into a third, so that
+each part of the house had its individuality. To these houses life
+fitted itself and grew to them; they were not mere walls, but became
+part of existence. A man's house was not only his castle, a man's
+house was himself. He could not tear himself away from his house, it
+was like tearing up the shrieking mandrake by the root, almost death
+itself. . . . Dark beams inlaid in the walls support the gables; the
+slight curve of the great beam adds, I think, to the interest of the old
+place, for it is a curve that has grown and was not premeditated; it has
+grown like the bough of a tree, not from any set human design. This too
+is the character of the house. It is not large, not overburdened with
+gables, not ornamented, not what is called striking, in any way, but
+simply an old English house, genuine and true. The warm sunlight falls
+on the old red tiles, the dark beams look the darker for the glow of
+light, the shapely cone of the hop-oust rises at the end; there are
+swallows and flowers and ricks and horses, and so it is beautiful
+because it is natural and honest. It is the simplicity that makes it so
+touching, like the words of an old ballad . . . why even a tall
+chanticleer makes a home look homely. I do like to see a tall proud
+chanticleer strutting in the yard and barely giving way as I advance,
+almost ready to do battle with a stranger like a mastiff.
+
+                                      JEFFRIES, _Buckhurst Park._
+
+[Illustration: IV
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_The Hall_]
+
+
+THE BEDESMEN
+
+THERE he lies, Fundator Noster, in his ruff and gown, awaiting the
+great Examination Day. . . . Yonder sit some threescore old gentlemen
+pensioners of the hospital, listening to the prayers and the psalms. You
+hear them coughing feebly in the twilight,--the old reverend blackgowns.
+. . . How solemn the well-remembered prayers are, here uttered again in
+the place where in childhood we used to hear them! How beautiful, and
+decorous the rite; how noble the ancient words of the supplications
+which the priest utters, and to which generations of fresh children and
+troops of bygone seniors have cried Amen! under those arches! The
+service for Founder's Day is a special one; one of the psalms selected
+being the thirty-seventh and we hear--
+
+23. The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he delighteth
+in his way--
+
+24. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord
+upholdeth him with his hand.
+
+25. I have been young and now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous
+forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.
+
+                                                  W. M. THACKERAY.
+
+
+HIRAM'S HOSPITAL
+
+HIRAM'S HOSPITAL, as the retreat is called, is a picturesque building
+enough, and shows the correct taste with which the ecclesiastical
+architects of those days were imbued. It stands on the banks of the
+little river, which flows nearly round the cathedral close, being on the
+side furthest from the town. The London road crosses the river by a
+pretty one-arched bridge, and looking from this bridge, the stranger
+will see the windows of the old men's rooms, each pair of windows
+separated by a small buttress. A broad gravel walk runs between the
+building and the river, which is always trim and cared for; and at the
+end of the walk, under the parapet of the approach to the bridge, is a
+large and well-worn seat, on which, in mild weather three or four of
+Hiram's bedesmen are sure to be seen seated. Beyond this row of
+buttresses, and further from the bridge and also further from the water
+which here suddenly bends, are the pretty oriel windows of Mr. Harding's
+house, and his well mown lawn. The entrance to the hospital is from the
+London road and is made through a ponderous gateway under a heavy stone
+arch, unnecessary, one would suppose, at any time, for the protection of
+twelve old men, but greatly conducive to the good appearance of Hiram's
+charity. On passing through this portal, never closed to any one from
+six A.M. till ten P.M., and never open afterwards, except on application
+to a huge, intricately hung mediaeval bell, the handle of which no
+un-initiated intruder can possibly find, the six doors of the old men's
+abodes are seen, and beyond them is a slight iron screen, through which
+the more happy portion of the Barchester elite pass into the Elysium of
+Mr. Harding's dwelling.
+
+                                   ANTHONY TROLLOPE, _The Warden._
+
+[Illustration: V
+
+UPTHORPE-CUM-REGIS
+
+_Trong's Almshouses_]
+
+
+
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+
+SIRMIONE
+
+  ROW us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row!
+  So they row'd, and there we landed--"O venusta Sirmio!"
+  There to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow,
+  There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow,
+  Came that "Ave atque Vale" of the Poet's hopeless woe,
+  Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago,
+  "Frater Ave atque Vale"--as we wandered to and fro
+  Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the Garda lake below
+  Sweet Catullus's all-but-island, olive silvery Sirmio.
+                                          ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+[Illustration: VI
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Town and the Lake_]
+
+
+THE ITALIAN LAKES
+
+HE who loves immense space, cloud shadows sailing over purple slopes,
+island gardens, distant glimpses of snow-capped mountains, breadth, air,
+immensity, and flooding sunlight, will choose Maggiore. But scarcely has
+he cast his vote for this, the Juno of the divine rivals, when he
+remembers the triple lovelinesses of the Larian Aphrodite, disclosed in
+all their placid grace from Villa Serbelloni;--the green blue of the
+waters, clear as glass, opaque through depth; the _millefleurs_ roses
+clambering into cypresses by Cadenabbia; the laburnums hanging their
+yellow clusters from the clefts of Sasso Rancio; the oleander arcades of
+Varenna; the wild white limestone crags of San Martino, which he has
+climbed to feast his eyes with the perspective, magical, serene,
+Leonardesquely perfect, of the distant gates of Adda. Then while this
+modern Paris is yet doubting, perhaps a thought may cross his mind of
+sterner solitary Lake Iseo--the Pallas of the three. She offers her own
+attractions. The sublimity of Monte Adamello, dominating Lovere and all
+the lowland like Hesiod's hill of Virtue reared aloft above the plain of
+common life, has charms to tempt heroic lovers.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+
+PIAZZA GARIBALDI
+
+THE painter may transfer its campanile, glittering like dragon's scales,
+to his canvas. The lover of the picturesque will wander through its
+aisle at mass-time, watching the sunlight play upon those upturned
+Southern faces with their ardent eyes; and happy is he who sees young
+men and maidens on Whit Sunday crowding round the chancel rails, to
+catch the marigolds and gillyflowers scattered from baskets which the
+priest has blessed.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+
+DOWN IN THE CITY
+
+  IS it ever hot in the square? There's a fountain to spout and
+      splash!
+  In the shade it sings and springs; in the shine such foam-bows
+      flash
+  On the horses with curling fish-tails, that prance and paddle
+      and pash
+  Round the lady atop in the conch--fifty gazers do not abash,
+  Though all that she wears is some weeds round her waist in a
+      sort of a sash!
+
+  Ere opening your eyes in the city the blessed church-bells begin:
+  No sooner the bells leave off, than the diligence rattles in:
+  You get the picks of the news, and it costs you never a pin.
+  By and by there's the travelling doctor gives pills, lets blood,
+      draws teeth;
+  Or the Pulcinello-trumpet breaks up the market beneath.
+  At the post-office such a scene-picture--the new play, piping hot!
+  And a notice how, only this morning, three liberal thieves were
+      shot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Noon strikes,--here sweeps the procession! Our lady borne smiling
+      and smart
+  With a pink gauze gown all spangles, and seven swords stuck in her
+      heart!
+  _Bang, whang, whang_, goes the drum; _tootle-te-tootle_ the fife;
+  Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
+                                          ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+[Illustration: VII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Piazza Garibaldi_]
+
+
+PIAZZA CAVOUR
+
+THE changes of scene upon this tiny square are so frequent as to remind
+one of a theatre. Looking down from the inn-balcony, between the glazy
+green pots gay with scarlet amaryllis-bloom, we are inclined to fancy
+that the whole has been prepared for our amusement. In the morning the
+cover for the macaroni-flour, after being washed, is spread out on the
+bricks to dry. In the afternoon the fishermen bring their nets for the
+same purpose. In the evening the city magnates promenade and whisper.
+Dark-eyed women, with orange or crimson kerchiefs for headgear, cross
+and re-cross, bearing baskets on their shoulders. Great lazy large
+limbed fellows, girt with scarlet sashes and finished off with dark blue
+night-caps (for a contrast to their saffron-colored shirts, white
+breeches and sunburnt calves), slouch about or sleep face downwards on
+the parapets.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+[Illustration: VIII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Piazza Cavour_]
+
+
+A ROMANESQUE DOORWAY
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HOW the hand of Time has mellowed the ruddy brick and the marble's
+whiteness until ivory and rose blend and are in harmony with those
+stained and faded frescoes which still remain in the panels of the upper
+walls. Columns of veined marble stand in ranks on either side of the
+entrance. They are mounted on the backs of stiff-maned lions. Fit
+supporters are these for the arches of the Sanctuary as, at its very
+door, with claw and tooth they tear to pieces the bestial forms of vice
+and ignorance. Above rise the moulded archivolts, tier on tier, clothed
+with vine and tendril and peopled with bird and beast. These may be
+uncouth in form, but the rude hands that fashioned them learned their
+lesson at the feet of Nature. What there is of convention in arrangement
+or in pattern has flowed hither through the East from the original
+fountains of Greece and Rome but now at last all moves in freedom and
+without restraint. As in the short nights of the North sunrise follows
+fast upon the setting of the sun, so here though we see in this work the
+sunset of the Antique yet it is already aglow with light from the coming
+dawn of Mediaeval Art.
+
+                                        ROBERTS, _Italian Sketches._
+
+[Illustration: IX
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_North Door of Duomo_]
+
+
+LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL
+
+FLORENCE is more noisy; indeed, I think it the noisiest town I was ever
+in. What with the continual jangling of its bells, the rattle of
+Austrian drums, and the street cries, _Ancora mi raccapriccio_. The
+Italians are a vociferous people, and most so among them the
+Florentines. Walking through a back street one day, I saw an old woman
+higgling with a peripatetic dealer, who, at every interval afforded him
+by the remarks of his veteran antagonist, would tip his head on one
+side, and shout, with a kind of wondering enthusiasm, as if he could
+hardly trust the evidence of his own senses to such loveliness, _O, che
+bellezza! che belle-e-ezza!_ The two had been contending as obstinately
+as the Greeks and Trojans over the body of Patroclus, and I was curious
+to know what was the object of so much desire on the one side and
+admiration on the other. It was a half dozen of weazeny baked pears,
+beggarly remnant of the day's traffic. . . . It never struck me before
+what a quiet people Americans are.
+
+                                             JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+WITHIN THE DUOMO
+
+THE semi-dome of the eastern apse above the high altar is entirely
+filled with a gigantic half-length figure of Christ. He raises His right
+hand to bless and with His left holds an open book on which is written
+in Greek and Latin, "I am the Light of the world." . . . Below him on a
+smaller scale are ranged the archangels and the mother of the Lord, who
+holds the child upon her knees. Thus Christ appears twice upon this
+wall, once as the Omnipotent Wisdom, the Word by whom all things were
+made, and once as God deigning to assume a shape of flesh and dwell with
+men. The magnificent image of supreme Deity seems to fill with a single
+influence and to dominate the whole building. The house with all its
+glory is his. He dwells there like Pallas in her Parthenon or Zeus in
+his Olympian temple. To left and right over every square inch of the
+cathedral blaze mosaics, which portray the story of God's dealings with
+the human race from the Creation downwards, together with those angelic
+beings and saints who symbolize each in his own degree some special
+virtue granted to mankind. The walls of the fane are therefore an open
+book of history, theology and ethics for all men to read.
+
+               SYMONDS, _Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece._
+
+[Illustration: X
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Interior of the Duomo_]
+
+
+FROM "A LEGEND OF BRITTANY"
+
+    DEEPER and deeper shudders shook the air,
+    As the huge bass kept gathering heavily,
+    Like thunder when it rouses in its lair,
+    And with its hoarse growl shakes the low-hung sky,
+    It grew up like a darkness everywhere,
+    Filling the vast cathedral;--suddenly
+    From the dense mass a boy's clear treble broke
+    Like lightning, and the full-toned choir awoke.
+
+    Through gorgeous windows shone the sun aslant,
+    Brimming the church with gold and purple mist.
+    Meet atmosphere to bosom that rich chant,
+    Where fifty voices in one strand did twist
+    Their varicolored tones and left no want
+    To the delighted soul, which sank abyssed
+    In the warm music cloud, while, far below,
+    The organ heaved its surges to and fro.
+                            JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+THE VILLA
+
+    OUR villa . . .
+    . . . lies on the slope of the Alban hill;
+    Lifting its white face, sunny and still,
+    Out of the olives' pale gray green,
+    That, far away as the eye can go,
+    Stretch up behind it, row upon row.
+    There in the garden the cypresses, stirred
+    By the sifting winds, half musing talk,
+    And the cool, fresh, constant voice is heard
+    Of the fountain's spilling in every walk.
+    There stately the oleanders grow,
+    And one long gray wall is aglow
+    With golden oranges burning between
+    Their dark stiff leaves of sombre green.
+    And there are hedges all clipped and square,
+    As carven from blocks of malachite,
+    Where fountains keep spinning their threads of light
+    And statues whiten the shadow there.
+    And if the sun too fiercely shine,
+    And one would creep from its noonday glare,
+    There are galleries dark, where ilexes twine
+    Their branchy roofs above the head.
+                                   W. W. STORY.
+
+[Illustration: XI
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Villa of the Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti_]
+
+
+TRULY everything here has a dramatic character. The smallness and grace
+of this little church gleaming with colour, its chapels and grottoes
+like a spiritual vision, such as I have never found elsewhere in the
+whole field of religious conception. It is an illustrated picture-book
+of poetical legends, which are bloodless and painless, though fantastic,
+like the lives of pious anchorites in the wilderness, and amid the birds
+of the field. Here Religion treads on the borders of fairy-land, and
+brings an indescribable atmosphere away from thence.
+
+                                                       GREGOROVIUS.
+
+
+BRAMANTE
+
+    FEW words record Bramante's great command,
+    As from some mountain silence set apart,
+    He blazed a trail along the way of art,
+    Upheld the torch and led his little band.
+
+    He spoke alone to those who understand,
+    Not cheapening words within the public mart,
+    Living withdrawn, a high and humble heart,
+    Creating loveliness for his loved land.
+
+    Though he dwelt cloistered in his northern home,
+    When he strode forth it was with unveiled face,
+    To rear a fabric that may crumble never.
+
+    They called him "Master" when he wrought in Rome
+    And with earth's greatest ones shall labor ever
+    The hand that gave to Lombardy her grace.
+                          MARION MONKS CHASE.
+
+[Illustration: XII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_Santa Prassede, the Cardinal's Church_]
+
+
+IL PENSEROSO
+
+          BUT let my due feet never fail
+          To walk the studious cloister's pale,
+          And love the high embowed roof,
+          With antick pillars massy proof,
+          And storied windows richly dight,
+          Casting a dim religious light.
+          There let the pealing organ blow
+          To the full-voiced Quire below,
+          In service high and anthems clear,
+          As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
+          Dissolve me into ecstacies,
+          And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
+                                         MILTON.
+
+[Illustration: XIII
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Cloisters of Santa Prassede_]
+
+
+THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB IN SANTA PRASSEDE
+
+    YET still my niche is not so cramped but thence
+    One sees the pulpit o' the epistle-side
+    And somewhat of the choir, those silent seats,
+    And up into the aery dome, where live
+    The angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk;
+    And I shall fill my slab of basalt there,
+    And neath my tabernacle take my rest,
+    With those nine columns round me, two and two,
+    The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands;
+    Peach blossom marble all, the rare, the ripe
+    As fresh poured red wine of a mighty pulse.
+    Old Gandolph with his paltry onion-stone
+    Put me where I may look at him! True peach,
+    Rosy and faultless: . . .
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Did I say basalt for my slab, sons? Black
+    'T was ever antique-black I meant! How else
+    Shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath?
+    The bas-relief in bronze you promised me,
+    Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of, and perchance
+    Some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so,
+    The Saviour at his sermon on the mount,
+    Saint Praxed in a glory, and one Pan
+    Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off,
+    And Moses with the tables,--but I know
+    Ye mark me not!
+                                 ROBERT BROWNING.
+
+[Illustration: XIV
+
+RANCONEZZO
+
+_The Tomb of Cardinal Schalchi-Visconti in Santa Prassede_]
+
+
+
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+
+FRENCH TOWNS
+
+IT is a drowsy little Burgundian town, very old and ripe, with crooked
+streets, vistas always oblique, and steep moss-covered roofs. . . . I
+carried away from Beaune the impression of something autumnal,--something
+rusty yet kindly, like the taste of a sweet russet pear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Le Mans as at Bourges, my first business was with the cathedral, to
+which I lost no time in directing my steps. . . . It stands on the edge
+of the eminence of the town, which falls straight away on two sides of
+it, and makes a striking mass, bristling behind, as you see it from
+below, with rather small but singularly numerous flying buttresses. On
+my way to it I happened to walk through the one street which contains a
+few ancient and curious houses,--a very crooked and untidy lane, of
+really mediaeval aspect, honored with the denomination of the Grand Rue.
+Here is the house of Queen Berengaria. . . . The structure in
+question--very sketchable, if the sketcher could get far enough away
+from it--is an elaborate little dusky facade, overhanging the street,
+ornamented with panels of stone, which are covered with delicate
+Renaissance sculpture. A fat old woman, standing in the door of a small
+grocer's shop next to it,--a most gracious old woman, with a
+bristling moustache and a charming manner,--told me what the house
+was.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This admirable house, in the centre of the town, gabled, elaborately
+timbered, and much restored, is a really imposing monument. The basement
+is occupied by a linen-draper, who flourishes under the auspicious sign
+of the Mere de Famille; and above her shop the tall front rises in five
+overhanging stories. As the house occupies the angle of a little
+_place_, the front is double, and carved and interlaced, has a high
+picturesqueness. The Maison d'Adam is quite in the grand style, and I am
+sorry to say I failed to learn what history attaches to its name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I remember going around to the church, after I had left the good
+sisters, and to a little quiet terrace, which stands in front of it,
+ornamented with a few small trees and bordered with a wall, breast high,
+over which you look down steep hillsides, off into the air, and all
+about the neighboring country. I remember saying to myself that this
+little terrace was one of those felicitous nooks which the tourist of
+taste keeps in his mind as a picture.
+
+                         HENRY JAMES, _A Little Tour in France._
+
+
+[Illustration: XV
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_The Town and the River Merle_]
+
+
+A COUNTRY TOWN
+
+THEY wake you early in this hilly town. It was hardly light this morning
+when up and down through all its highways went a vigorous drum beat.
+Reluctantly peeking from the window to see the troops enter our square I
+was disappointed to find that one regimental drummer, marching
+unaccompanied and lonely, had done all this mischief. What useful
+purpose did he serve? After a brief respite and repose the noise of
+another commotion came in with the morning air; a murmur which grew and
+became a chatter and at last a din! The next journey to the window
+showed that the morning market was in full swing. Piles of fresh greens
+and rich-colored vegetables were tended by gnarled old peasant women
+sitting under widespread umbrellas of faded colors. But what a pleasant
+air it was that came through the opened sash; a mountain air with just
+that faint flavor of garlic tinging it which presages something
+satisfying to be found later. Strengthened for a time by our coffee and
+rolls we wandered through these winding streets. We saw the
+weather-beaten, leaden fleche of the cathedral high on the hill, but for
+the time were satisfied to study the many ancient houses which still
+remain. Their fronts framed in dark oak with a filling of amber-colored
+plaster topple over the public ways until they almost meet. Here and
+there the oak beams are carved, and grinning man or snarling monster
+regards you from corbel or boss. In places too there are bits of old
+Gothic detail and one doorway of true Flamboyant work. There is the true
+poetry of architecture! In England the Decorated Period gives you what
+is handsome, the Perpendicular what is stately. In France the
+cathedrals of Paris and of Rheims are splendidly serious and correct;
+but if in Gothic work you seek imaginative, unrestrained, carelessly
+free poetry it is to be found in the flowing lines and exuberant fancy
+of the work of the Flamboyant period.
+
+[Illustration: XVI
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_La Grande Rue and La Place de la Republique_]
+
+We found much needed restoration in the hors-d'oeuvres, the omelette,
+the cutlet, the salads and the cheese of dejeuner,--and then followed
+coffee under the awning of the cafe. Here we looked out on the Grand
+Place which had now become sleepy, all signs of the market and its
+business having disappeared. On it front the Mairie, the Bureau des
+Postes, the Hotel du Lion d'Or and various centres of local commerce. We
+watched our neighbors in the cafe; the colonel with clanking sword in
+vigorous discussion with a local magnate; the retired bourgeois who
+played a desultory game of billiards or a deeply thought out match at
+dominoes. A quiet square it was now, and, in the shade of its plane
+trees, comfortable and at peace with the world, we fell asleep and made
+up for the wakefulness of our earlier hours.
+
+                                   ROBERTS, _Letters from France._
+
+
+OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS
+
+    HIGH throned above th' encircling meadows fair
+    Our Lady of the Rocks holds queenly sway!
+    Bright kerchiefed peasants daily wend their way
+    With clattering sabots up the winding stair,
+    Pausing at each rude rock-hewn station, there
+    To bend the knee and many an Ave say.
+    Up, up they climb, their voices echoing gay
+    Till by the Virgin's shrine they kneel in prayer.
+
+    This is that "Jacob's Ladder" famed afar
+    To which the Kings of France made pilgrimage
+    Asking for favors both in Peace and War.
+    Well named!--for Heavenwards the way is tending,
+    And all these happy, pious folk presage
+    Angels of God ascending and descending.
+                                      H. L. P.
+
+
+          BUT, when so sad thou canst no sadder,
+          Cry, and upon thy so sore loss
+          Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
+          Pitched between heaven and Charing Cross.
+
+          So in the night my soul, my daughter,
+          Cry, clinging heaven by the hems,
+          And lo! Christ walking on the water
+          Not of Gennesaret but Thames.
+                          FRANCIS THOMPSON.
+
+[Illustration: XVII
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_L'escalier de Jacob_]
+
+
+          OFT have I seen at some cathedral door
+            A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
+            Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet
+            Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor
+          Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;
+            Far off the noises of the world retreat;
+            The loud vociferations of the street
+            Become an undistinguishable roar.
+            So as I enter here from day to day,
+          And leave my burden at this minster gate,
+            Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray,
+          The tumult of the time disconsolate
+            To inarticulate murmurs dies away,
+            While the eternal ages watch and wait.
+
+          How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!
+            This crowd of statues, on whose folded sleeves
+            Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves
+            Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers
+          And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!
+            But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves
+            Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves,
+            And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers!
+          Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain,
+            What exultations trampling on despair,
+            What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong,
+          What passionate outcry of the soul in pain
+            Uprose this poem of the earth and air,
+            This mediaeval miracle of song!
+                                        H. W. LONGFELLOW.
+
+[Illustration: XVIII
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_Le Parvis de Ste Fredigonde_]
+
+
+THE CATHEDRAL
+
+          LOOKING up suddenly, I found mine eyes
+          Confronted with the minster's vast repose.
+          Silent and gray as forest-leaguered cliff
+          Left inland by the ocean's slow retreat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          It rose before me, patiently remote
+          From the great tides of life it breasted once,
+          Hearing the noise of men as in a dream
+          I stood before the triple northern port,
+          Where dedicated shapes of saints and kings,
+          Stern faces bleared with immemorial watch,
+          Looked down benignly grave and seemed to say,
+          _Ye come and go incessant; we remain
+          Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past;
+          Be reverent, ye who flit and are forgot,
+          Of faith so nobly realized as this._
+                                    JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+
+CHARTRES
+
+ALL day the sky had been banked with thunderclouds, but by the time we
+reached Chartres, toward four o'clock, they had rolled away under the
+horizon, and the town was so saturated with sunlight that to pass into
+the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a church in
+Spain. At first all detail was imperceptible: we were in a hollow night.
+Then, as the shadows gradually thinned and gathered themselves up into
+pier and vault and ribbing, there burst out of them great sheets and
+showers of color. Framed by such depths of darkness, and steeped in a
+blaze of mid-summer sun, the familiar windows seemed singularly remote
+and yet overpoweringly vivid. Now they widened into dark-shored pools
+splashed with sunset, now glittered and menaced like the shields of
+fighting angels. Some were cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped
+from a saint's tunic, others great carven platters strewn with heavenly
+regalia, others the sails of galleons bound for the Purple Islands; and
+in the western wall the scattered fires of the rose window hung like a
+constellation in an African night. When one dropped one's eyes from
+these ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below them, all
+veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few altar lights, seemed to
+symbolize the life on earth, with its shadows, its heavy distances and
+its little islands of illusions. All that a great cathedral can be, all
+the meanings it can express, all the tranquillizing power it can breathe
+upon the soul, all the richness of detail it can fuse into a large
+utterance of strength and beauty, the cathedral of Chartres gave us in
+that perfect hour.
+
+                              EDITH WHARTON, _Fighting France._
+
+[Illustration: XIX
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_Interior of the Church of Ste Fredigonde_]
+
+
+AT HIGH MASS
+
+          THOU Who hast made this world so wondrous fair;--
+          The pomp of clouds; the glory of the sea;
+          Music of water; songbirds' melody;
+          The organ of Thy thunder in the air;
+          Breath of the rose; and beauty everywhere--
+          Lord, take this stately service done to Thee,
+          The grave enactment of Thy Calvary
+          In jewelled pomp and splendor pictured there!
+
+          Lord, take the sounds and sights; the silk and gold;
+          The white and scarlet; take the reverent grace
+          Of ordered step; window and glowing wall--
+          Prophet and Prelate, holy men of old;
+          And teach us children of the Holy Place
+          Who love Thy Courts, to love Thee best of all.
+                                      ROBERT HUGH BENSON.
+
+
+THE LAMP OF SACRIFICE
+
+ALL else for which the builders sacrificed, has passed away--all their
+living interests, and aims, and achievements. We know not for what they
+labored, and we see no evidence of their reward. Victory, wealth,
+authority, happiness--all have departed, though bought by many a bitter
+sacrifice. But of them, and their life and their toil upon the earth,
+one reward, one evidence, is left to us in those gray heaps of
+deep-wrought stone. They have taken with them to the grave their powers,
+their honors, and their errors; but they have left us their adoration.
+
+                                                  JOHN RUSKIN.
+
+[Illustration: XX
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_Sacristy Steps in the Church of Ste Fredigonde_]
+
+
+HUNTING THE STAG
+
+WE spent yesterday in the Foret de C----. As the Emperor had guests we
+were not admitted at the Chateau, but we tramped for long through the
+woods. The grassy roads run beneath the embowering beeches straight from
+carrefour to carrefour. The gnarled and twisted trunks give to each tree
+a personal character and make it a master-piece of Nature. Of a sudden
+we came on the Imperial hunt winding in gay procession through the
+forest to its rendezvous. Hunting horns in triple rings of brass
+encircled the leading horsemen. From time to time we heard from them the
+familiar strains which echo through the Latin Quarter at Mi-Careme. Then
+followed in brilliant liveries a troop of lackeys, grooms, and other
+servants, and the pack of staghounds held in leash but sniffing and
+yelping. Next came the hunters themselves on high-bred mounts and in
+court costumes of ancient design. Lastly there were barouches and
+landaus carrying the ladies of the Court "en grande tenue." The sunlight
+flickering through the beech branches enlivened this brilliant train as
+it wound through the forest glades and disappeared down a green allee.
+
+We had continued our walk for scarce a mile when, but a short distance
+from us, a stag crossed our path--stood startled--with head erect,--and
+then with confident leaps vanished in the forest just as the distant
+hounds became aware of him and joined in a wild chorus. In a few moments
+the pack came in a rush across our path. Up the different allees rode
+the horsemen in haste--asking of us news of the stag. We on foot joined
+in the pursuit,--but at last the forest swallowed one after the
+other, stag, and hounds, and hunters, and the sound of dog and horn.
+
+[Illustration: XXI
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_The Chateau Beaumesnil_]
+
+On leaving the forest we passed the small Chateau. Its conical turret
+roofs and lofty chimneys, and its flashing finials and girouettes make a
+brave show above the forest trees. The terraces overlook wide meadow
+lands through which the river winds until it is lost in the hazy
+distance.
+
+                                 ROBERTS, _Letters from France._
+
+CLOTILDE
+
+          IN Geraudun were brothers three,
+          They had one sister dear;
+          The cruel Baron her lord must be,
+          And the fellest and fiercest knight is he
+          In the country far or near.
+
+          He beat that lovely lady sore
+          With a staff of the apple green,
+          Till her blood flowed down on the castle floor,
+          And from head to foot the crimson gore
+          On her milk-white robe was seen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          Her robe was stained with the ruby tide
+          Once pure as the fleece so white;
+          And she hied her to the river-side
+          To wash in the waters bright.
+
+          While there she stood three knights so gay
+          Came riding bold and free.
+          "Ho! tell us young serving maiden, pray
+          Where yon castle's lady may be?"
+
+          "Alas! no serving maid am I,
+          But the lady of yonder castle high!"
+
+          "O sister, sister, truly tell
+          Who did this wrong to thee?"
+
+          "Dear brothers it was the husband fell
+          To whom you married me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          The brothers spurred their steeds in haste
+          And the castle soon they gained.
+          From chamber to chamber they swiftly passed
+          Nor paused till they reached the tower at last
+          Where the felon knight remained:
+
+          They drew their swords so sharp and bright
+          They thought on their sister sweet;
+          They struck together the felon knight,
+          And his head rolled at their feet!
+                         _Translated by_ LOUIS S. COSTELLO.
+
+[Illustration: XXII
+
+ROCHER-ST.-POL
+
+_La Tour de la Dame Blanche_]
+
+
+
+
+AEGINASSOS
+
+
+THE ISLES OF GREECE
+
+          THE isles of Greece! The isles of Greece!
+          Where burning Sappho loved and sung,--
+          Where grew the arts of war and peace,--
+          Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!
+          Eternal summer gilds them yet
+          But all, except their sun, is set.
+                                    BYRON.
+
+
+THE ODYSSEY
+
+          AS one that for a weary space has lain
+          Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine
+          In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,
+          Where the AEgean isle forgets the main,
+          And only the low lutes of love complain,
+          And only shadows of wan lovers pine,--
+          As such an one were glad to know the brine
+          Salt on his lips, and the large air again,--
+          So gladly from the songs of modern speech
+          Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free
+          Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,
+          And through the music of the languid hours
+          They hear, like Ocean on a western beach,
+          The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.
+                                    ANDREW LANG.
+
+[Illustration: XXIII
+
+AEGINASSOS
+
+_The Temple and the Forum_]
+
+
+ULYSSES
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  THERE lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
+  There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
+  Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me--
+  That ever with a frolic welcome took
+  The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
+  Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
+  Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;
+  Death closes all; but something ere the end,
+  Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
+  Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
+  The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
+  The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs: the deep
+  Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
+  'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
+  Push off, and sitting well in order smite
+  The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
+  To sail beyond the sunset, and the paths
+  Of all the western stars, until I die.
+  It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
+  It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
+  And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
+  Though much is taken, much abides; and though
+  We are not now that strength which in old days
+  Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
+  One equal temper of heroic hearts,
+  Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
+  To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
+                               ALFRED TENNYSON.
+
+[Illustration: XXIV
+
+AEGINASSOS
+
+_The Temple and the Forum_]
+
+
+
+
+          The Riverside Press
+          CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
+          U . S . A
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Text uses both Aeginossis and AEginassos.
+
+Page 25, "Leornardesquely" changed to "Leonardesquely" (Leonardesquely
+perfect, of)
+
+Page 65, "hors-oeuvres" changed to "hors d'oeuvres" (in the
+hors-d'oeuvres)
+
+Page 65, "d'ejeuner" changed to "dejeuner" (cheese of dejeuner)
+
+Page 90, "AEaean" changed to "AEgean" (the AEgean isle)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Hospital Sketches, by Robert Swain Peabody
+
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