"I have passed my baggage through the custom-house, and on Monday I proceed on my journey to London through Birmingham and Oxford. Miss Leslie, a sister of my friend Leslie of London, is my compagnon de voyage. She is a woman of fine talents and makes my journey less tedious and irksome than it would otherwise be…. I have a long journey before me yet ere I reach Rome, where I intended to be by Christmas Day, but my long voyage will probably defeat my intention."
CHAPTER XV
DECEMBER 6, 1829—FEBRUARY 6, 1830
Journey from Liverpool to London by coach.—Neatness of the cottages.— Trentham Hall.—Stratford-on-Avon.—Oxford.—London.—Charles R. Leslie. —Samuel Rogers.—Seated with Academicians at Royal Academy lecture.— Washington Irving.—Turner.—Leaves London for Dover.—Canterbury Cathedral.—Detained at Dover by bad weather.—Incident of a former visit.—Channel steamer.—Boulogne-sur-Mer.—First impressions of France.—Paris.—The Louvre.—Lafayette.—Cold in Paris.—Continental Sunday.—Leaves Paris for Marseilles in diligence.—Intense cold.— Dijon.—French funeral.—Lyons.—The Hôtel Dieu.—Avignon.—Catholic church services.—Marseilles.—Toulon.—The navy yard and the galley slaves.—Disagreeable experience at an inn.—The Riviera.—Genoa.
Morse was now thirty-eight years old, in the full vigor of manhood, of a spare but well-knit frame and of a strong constitution. While all his life, and especially in his younger years, he was a sufferer from occasional severe headaches, he never let these interfere with the work on hand, and, by leading a sane and rational life, he escaped all serious illnesses. He was not a total abstainer as regards either wine or tobacco, but was moderate in the use of both; a temperance advocate in the true sense of the word.
His character had now been moulded both by prosperity and adversity. He had known the love of wife and children, and of father and mother, and the cup of domestic happiness had been dashed from his lips. He had experienced the joy of the artist in successful creation, and the bitterness of the sensitive soul irritated by the ignorant, and all but overwhelmed by the struggle for existence. He had felt the supreme joy of swaying an audience by his eloquence, and he had endured with fortitude the carping criticism of the envious. Through it all, through prosperity and through adversity, his hopeful, buoyant nature had triumphed. Prosperity had not spoiled him, and adversity had but served to refine. He felt that he had been given talents which he must utilize to the utmost, that he must be true to himself, and that, above all, he must strive in every way to benefit his fellow men.
This motive we find recurring again and again in his correspondence and in his ultimate notes. Not, "What can I do for myself?" but "What can I do for mankind?" Never falsely humble, but, on the contrary, properly proud of his achievements, jealous of his own good name and fame and eager honestly to acquire wealth, he yet ever put the public good above his private gain.
He was now again in Europe, the goal of his desires for many years, and he was about to visit the Continent, where he had never been. Paris, with her treasures of art, Italy, the promised land of every artist, lay before him.
We shall miss the many intimate letters to his wife and to his parents, but we shall find others to his brothers and to his friends, perhaps a shade less unreserved, but still giving a clear account of his wanderings, and, from a mass of little notebooks and sketch-books, we can follow him on his pilgrimage and glean some keen observations on the peoples and places visited by him. It must be remembered that this was still the era of the stage-coach and the diligence, and that it took many days to accomplish a journey which is now made in almost the same number of hours.
On Christmas Day, 1829, he begins a letter from Dover to a favorite cousin, Mrs. Margaret Roby, of Utica, New York:—