Twenty Years in Europe

But we stopped first in Zurich. As it was his birthday, we had a little good-bye dinner together in the Tonhalle by the lake, and did all we could for his “health” with a bottle of “Mumm’s extra dry.”

That he might be right over the Rhine Falls by moonlight, the host of the Laufen Castle gave him the room with the balconies above the water. It was beautiful, but the noise of the falls kept Harte awake all night.

In the morning we said good-bye and parted, he for Crefeld via the Black Forest, and we for Bocken.

Yesterday I got this letter from him:

    “Crefeld, Aug. 27, 1879.

“My Dear Mr. Byers: – We arrived here safely last night. Of course, the railways did not connect as you said they would, and of course, we did not go where you promised we should, but we got to Düsseldorf within twelve hours of the schedule time set and are thankful. Only let me beg you to post yourself a little on Swiss railroads before you travel yourself. Your knowledge does well enough for a guide to old experienced travelers like us!!! but it won’t do for a simple, guileless, believing nature like your own. And don’t let the landlord of the Chateau ‘Laufen’ cook up a route for you.

“Our ride through the Black Forest was a delicious revelation. I should say it was an overture to Switzerland, had I entered Switzerland from its borders, but coming from Switzerland, I could not but think it was really finer than the Alps in everything that makes the picturesque, and that Switzerland would have been a disappointment afterwards. It was very like the California ‘foothills’ in the mountain ranges, and the long dashes of red soil and red road-so unlike the glare and dazzle of the white Swiss turnpikes-were very effective. I wanted much to stop at Freiberg, still more at a certain ruined castle and ‘pension’ called Hombeck, which was as picturesque as Castle Laufen, minus the noise of ‘factory wheels and fulling mills’ from these awful rapids. Heidelberg was a sensation, with its castle that quite dwarfs the Rhine River (as all these things do by comparison when one travels) and we could have stayed here two or three days and enjoyed ourselves.

“The weather has changed back to the old wet season that we thought we had left behind us when we turned our faces Southward. It is dull and rainy. Nevertheless as soon as I get some work off my hands that has accumulated here I shall try the seaside for my hoped-for rehabilitation.

“My cousin sends her regards. I suppose she will write or has written to Mrs. Byers. I hope you will not give up your Rhine trip (with a suitable guide) and that we may see you in Düsseldorf soon.

“With my best regards to Mrs. Byers,

    “Very truly yours,
    Bret Harte.”

September 29, 1879.-We are just home from a ten days’ trip up and down the Moselle River, that neglected Cinderella sister of the Rhine. It is more beautiful than the Rhine itself. It has more pretty hills and mountains on its shores; its villages are more picturesque; its ruins of castles more numerous; its wines as good. Parts of our journey we went in a row boat, often we walked along the shores. At Cochem, we visited friends and had a good time. We also went to the magnificent “Elz,” the only German castle Louis XIV’s invaders failed to find and destroy. It is among the dark wooded hills, miles back from the Moselle River. Nothing like it to-day in Germany. Heidelberg is a ruin. Elz is a perfect castle of the Middle Ages. Portcullis, gate, tower, moat, walls and halls, stone floors, fireplaces, tapestries and furniture, as they were centuries ago. Everything has been left, and the owner of Elz keeps all the surroundings in the spirit of the olden time, even to the troops of hounds.

To wander through this castle is like reading Scott’s novels, only here all is old German. No wonder the French never found the castle. Even we, with a guide, blundered right on to it, before we knew we were within miles of it. We heard dogs baying, looked, and there among the rocks and woods saw the lofty walls and towers. We had no passes allowing us to enter, but our guide had a brother among the men in charge, and we were shown across the bridge and moat.

I know no spot, castle, or ruin, in Europe, where one feels himself so absolutely back in the Middle Ages. While in there, I forgot there were such things as gunpowder, railways, gas and cannon. The walls were hung with spears, swords, bows and battle clubs.

Another of the perfect works of olden times visited by us on the Moselle was the ancient gateway at the City of Treves. This “Porta Nigra” impressed me much. I think there is nothing to equal it, even in Rome. Many of the works of the Romans, built in this German town, are in better preservation than anything in the “Eternal City.” Some of them are just as grand. The town itself is only a feeble reminder of the great, old times, when seven different Roman Emperors made this town their residence.

There is one church here, the “Liebfrauen Kirche,” exquisite in its beauty, that stands as the most perfect specimen of Gothic architecture remaining in the world. It is indeed “a thing of beauty” and a “joy;” if not forever, for at least five hundred years, and it may last a thousand years to come. The “Holy Coat of Christ” is kept here in the Cathedral. It is claimed to have been brought here by Helena, the mother of Constantine. I can see no reason why this may not be true. Relics of a million times’ less significance have been preserved by men for ages. Nothing would be so easily traced and cared for, from century to century, as a relic that half mankind revered as holy.

November, 1879.-We are again at our home in Zurich, 7 Centralhof. We are anxious for a long visit to Italy, and I have asked for a leave. Mr. Harte thinks to go along with us.

    “November 9, 1879.

“My Dear Mr. Byers: – I have your welcome letter of the 7th, and hasten to say that two words by telegraph from Mr. Seward give me my leave of absence. With this in my pocket, I am in no hurry, knowing that I can rush off at any moment, when Crefeld becomes unbearable. When the Rhine fog gathers thickest, and the office lights are lit at 3 P. M. and neuralgia becomes lively, I clutch the telegram and smile a ghostly smile.

“And we may meet, after all, where the sun shines. The doctor here tells me I must go to upper Italy, say Bellagio on the Lake of Como. But there is a time to think of that. Let me know when you get your leave. You will get it of course.

“My cousin had a dismal voyage home, tempestuous weather and seasickness nearly all the time. She writes rather sadly from New York, where she has found her brother-in-law hopelessly ill, and her sister in great distress. Her quiet life in Düsseldorf makes that busy city seem strange to her, and I hope when she gets to Washington she may shake off her sadness. I have written to her urging her, if she have the slightest feeling of ‘homesickness’ for Europe again, to start off with her sister Jessie and come back to me at once. I hope she certainly will in the spring, for it is terribly lonely here.

“Tell Mrs. Byers to stop this shooting of Parthian arrows from Obstalden. I am not so very particular, but if we travel in Italy together, we must certainly have more than one bedroom for us three. I know I am fastidious as to location, but I’d let that go. I’d stick out for two bedrooms, if we had to telegraph a week ahead. If Mrs. Byers and myself are to quarrel in this way we must all have separate apartments, and two wash bowls.

“I forgot to ask you to procure me a book of Swiss photographic views for about eight or ten francs. It is for a child’s present and I leave the selection entirely to yourself. Will you charge your soul with it, and credit me with the enclosed.

    “Yours ever,
    B. H.”

And later he writes:

    “November 23, 1879.

“My Dear Mr. Byers: – A line to thank you for the album. It was a great bargain at 10 R. M. And yet people talk of the impractical, unbusiness-like character of the literary mind.

“I am still here, but knowing that I can go when I can stand things no longer, I put up with an india-ink washed sky, a dismal twilight that lasts eight hours, and stands for ‘day’ to the Rhenish perception, and find some work. I have just ‘turned off’ a story longer than the ‘Twins,’ and did it in spite of neuralgia and ’extension.’

“I see by a telegram to the Daily London News that Mr. Seward has resigned, and Colonel John Hay takes his place as Assistant Secretary of State. Hay is a good fellow, was in the diplomatic service once, is an accomplished, well-mannered gentleman of whom any American might be proud, and only a few years ago earned his bread by literary labors as editorial writer on the Tribune, besides being the author of ‘Jim Bludsoe’ and ‘Little Breeches,’ as you, of course, know. He married a rich wife and is quite independent of the office.

“All this ought to presage some intellectual discrimination of the deserts and needs of certain other literary men in the service. But we shall see. Certainly you will get your leave of absence now.

“When you have made up your mind to go, let me know. Meantime give my best regards to your wife.

    “Yours ever,
    Bret Harte.”

*****

July 1, 1879.-The business of the Consulate goes smoothly on. I have good assistants and no little leisure. Besides, Zurich is so centrally located that in a few hours I can travel to the most interesting spots of Europe. Germany, France, Italy are only a little journey off, the first but a couple of hours’ ride away. The scenery here is delightful, the climate moderate.

“What would you like if you could choose,” said a Swiss to me at my tea table the other night. “Nothing,” I replied, “only to stay here forever.” “You are content,” he answered. “I envy you-you are a happy man-the first one I ever saw!”

CHAPTER XXII

1880–1881

A LITTLE STAY BY THE MEDITERRANEAN-AM OFFERED A POSITION IN CHINA-AN ARTICLE ON THE SWISS RHINE-ALSO ONE ON MY EXPERIENCES IN THE REBEL ARMY-TWO LETTERS FROM GENERAL SHERMAN-GRANT AND THE PRESIDENCY-SAYS THE BARE NARRATIVE OF MY ESCAPE FROM PRISON WOULD BE AN EPIC-BANQUET AT THE LEGATION-I WRITE FOR THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE AN EXPOSE OF HOW CERTAIN EUROPEAN COMMUNITIES SENT PAUPERS TO THE UNITED STATES-AM VIOLENTLY ATTACKED FOR IT BY MANY AMERICAN JOURNALS AND REPRIMANDED BY STATE DEPARTMENT-SWISS GOVERNMENT COMPLAINS-INVESTIGATION FOLLOWS-I AM JUSTIFIED-LETTER FROM SHERMAN AS TO HIS SON TOM-VISIT AMERICA-SECRETARY BLAINE COMPLIMENTS ME-THE PRESS CHANGES ITS TONE AND NEW LAWS ARE ADOPTED AS TO IMMIGRATION IN UNITED STATES AND SWITZERLAND-TRIBUNE SAYS EDITORIALLY, “MR. BYERS DESERVES THE THANKS OF THE AMERICAN PEOPLE”-A LITTLE VISIT TO THE POET LONGFELLOW, AND THE ALCOTTS; ALSO TO THE AUTHOR OF “AMERICA.”

March, 1880.-During a recent leave of absence I saw the Italian cities for the second time. We also spent some weeks at San Remo, by the Mediterranean, taking little foot excursions to Monte Carlo and Nice over the celebrated Cornici road. This lofty highway of Napoleon’s, above the sea, is the finest foot excursion in Italy.

While at Florence I wrote “Philip,” and at Prato I secured the beautiful censer described in the verses. The days now go by quickly enough, as many reports are asked for by the department, and the leisure goes in writing verses or articles for the magazines.

March 30 had this from General Sherman:

    “Washington, D. C., March 17, 1880.

“Dear Byers: – I was glad to receive your interesting letter from San Remo, Italy, a place I well remember on our drive from Nice to Genoa. I remarked the same thing that you did, that gorgeous scenery of sea and shore, of sheltered vales and olive-clad hills, with the snow-capped Pyrenees behind, seemed lost on the dirty, beggarly natives. Were it not for the English and American traveler, the Corniche would be poor indeed. All accounts from Europe and California describe the past winter as very severe, whilst here in Washington and indeed in all the country east of the Mississippi there has been no winter at all. January and February were like the same months in Louisiana. We had last week a little spurt of snow, but now the sun shines warm and bright, the grass is green, and the trees begin to show leaves, whilst crocuses and lilacs are almost purple with their buds. I fear we have not had winter enough to make a healthy and profitable summer.

“Elly will be married to Mr. Thackera, of the Navy, in May, and Minnie will come on the first time since her marriage. She now has four children, two boys and two girls, all healthy, strong children. For some years she has occupied a suite of rooms at Windsor Flats in the city of St. Louis, but she has just removed to a house I possess in the suburbs, with five acres of lawn, orchard and garden. She writes that they are very comfortable, and I propose to go out and see for myself about April 1. The rest of our family is here, Tom alone excepted, and we continue about as usual.

“Politics are beginning to buzz. Grant is still in Mexico, but will return via Texas next week. I suppose we may assume that he wants to be President again, and will probably be the Republican candidate. Whom the Democrats will choose, is hard to guess.

“I will look to the article you name in Harper’s. Mrs. Sherman always reads your letters.

    “Ever your friend,
    W. T. Sherman.”

This month’s Harper has my article on “The Swiss Rhine,” illustrated by Mrs. Byers, and the May Atlantic will have my “Ten Days in the Rebel Army.” This is the story of the time I escaped from the Macon prison, and went into the Rebel Army in disguise. The desperate venture came near costing me my life when I was taken, as our own generals had been executing rebels for similar action in our own army a short time before.