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84 Beekman St. 

















May, i860. 


Leave^aking — The Beginning of a Lon^ journal— A Fortnight 
of Misery— Havre to Paris — The First Zest of Travel^ . . 7 


June — November, i860. 

Through the Low Countries— A Rubens Nightmare^Baden-Baden 
-"Palace and Dungeon — Switzerland— 'Alps ! Alps 1 1 — Bad 
News and Back to Paris— Ecole Evangd-lique— /Yrj^ Day in Italy 
— The Waldenses— Church and Schools-'^\\9,\\si3LVi,\ . • • x6 

1822 — 1860. 


Recollections of Mrs, Gould's Parenis-^Emily^s Forty Children in 
the Sunday-school— Marriage to Dr. yames B, Gould— Declining 
Health — Aggravations of the Voyage^Invigoration by Mountain 
IValhs, 36 


November, i86o--February, 1861. 

To Milan — The Plain of Lombardy — Milan Cathedral — The 
^^ Last Supper^*— Genoa : Strange Sights and Queer People — 
Panorama of ^^ La Superba^^ — Garibaldi ans — Florence — The 
Glory of the Boboli Gardens— To Rome by Siena— Home at Last., 45 



1861— 1865. 


Evil Days at Rome— Literature^ Ari^ and Society — youmal ai 
Home— A Wealthy Madonna—Churckes and Ruins— The Car* 
dinal and the Lambs at St. Agnes'* — Feet-washings— St, Petet^s 
Illuminated — Excursions: x. To Subiaco and its Convent: 
a. To Valombrosa ; 3. To the Painted Tomb of Veii^ • • • 60 

I86I— 1866. 


Rebuilding a Ruined Church— Visit to the Valleys of the IVal- 
denses—The Stronghold of Angrogn&^The Glorieuse Rentrtfe — 
A Sabbath in the Temple of the Balsille—The Lord's Supper— 
A Baptism^ 104 

1866— 1870. 


An Exile caring for the Orphans of Exiles— A Paternal Govern^ 
tnent — An American Woman before a Roman Tribunal — A 
Christmas Tree in an Alpine Village — The Florence School and 
Orphanage — A Memorial Stone y .1x4 



Austro-Italian Wqr^ 1859 — Annexation to Piedmont of Lombardy 
and Tuscany — Kingdom of Italy — Insurrection in Sicily and 
Conquest of Naples by Garibaldi^ i36o — A nnexation of the Two 
Sicilies^ the Marches and Umbria — Capture of Gaeta^ i860 — A 
View of the Ruins in iS6i—The '* Six Weeks' War,'' 1B66— An- 
nexation of Venice — Garibaldi at Mentana^ 1867 — Vatican Coun- 
cil, i869-'70 — Franco-Prussian War, i87o-*7i — Liberation of 
Rome, September 20, 1S70— Mrs. GouleCs Literary Labors — Hopes 
of Usefulness at Rome, ......... 124 



1870— 1871. 


Beginning the Italo-American Schools — A Six Months Report-^ 
Dense Ignorance at Rome— Conflicts with Religious Intolerance — 
A bduction of a Girl— The First Roman Kindergarten — A n In^ 
ternational Christmas Tree — A Sunday-school^Patriotic Little 
Romans— The Planting 0/ the Asylum^ 143 


I87I— 1873. 

Friends and Enemies— A Breaking down of Health — Helpers in 
Time of Need— A Christmas Tree^ and Mary Howitfs Address 
— A Sunday-school Festival y and a Lady*s LaySermon — Prayer 
and Providence — The Children's Home begun in a Maronite 
Convent — Teaching Trades— The Liberality of Friends— The 
Love of the Scholars^ X7Z 


1874— 1875. 


Mrs, Gould's Delight in the Heme— Growth and Prosperity— An 
Italian Friend— Rest and Labor in the Apennines— Boscolungo — 
Lessens in Charity — Marietta and Beppino — Letters from the 
Children— A nd Mrs. Gould's A nswer—A Report Broken Off^ . 197 

April, 1875. 

American Citizens Abroad in War-time — Forbearance from 
Hard Words— Letter to a Colored Citi%enr—The Church of Rome 
and Slavery— Prospect of Liberty in Romanism — The Regenera^ 
tion of a Race^ aaa 



May — August, 1875. 


Ptrugia — Rome—Ptrugia again — Sickness and Death — Grief ef 
theCkildren—LiHUBep^ino follows his ^"^ Dear Lady ^'' . • 833 



^^ By Strangers Honored^'* — Expressions of ike Italian Prese-^ 
*'A Wreath of Stray Leaves^''— Words of Mr, Adoiphus Trol- 
lops and of Mrs, Mary Howitt— Honor to her Memory from 
those of her Own Country — Memorial Service in New York- 
Address of Dr. William Adams — The Grave at Woodlawn^ . 243 


1876— 1879. 


Embarrassments and Vicissitudes of Mrsr, GoulePs Institutions-— 
A Peril Averted— Letters from the Children — A Letter from 
Mrs. Edwardes — Rush of Applicants for Admission — Grief of 
the Children at the King's Death — Excommunication afid 
Anathema — Growing Meeds of the Home — Infant Candidates— 
" Junior Home " at Frascati—A Tusculan Picnic— Recollections 
of Mrs, Gould— The Lesson of her Life^ » . • • • . 364 \ 


May, i860. 

Leave-taking'— The Beginning of a Lonr yournal 
—A Fortnight of Misery— Havre to Pt^'H^—The 
First Zest of Travel. 

THE sailing of a young wife for her first visit from 
the New World to the Old is an every-day affair ; 
but it is like a wedding or a funeral in this, that 
however common it, may become, it can never be common- 
place. There is so much in the occasion to touch the 
universal sympathy — not love alone, but the eagerness of 
hope, the lingering look behind, the relentings of heart 
toward those that are left, and, amid all the gayety and 
good cheer, the emerging into consciousness, from mo- 
ment to moment, of that inevitable spectre of uncertainty 
which haunts the cabin of every departing ship. 

Not many elements of personal interest were wanting 
when Emily Bliss, with her husband. Dr. James B. Gould, 
sailed from New York to Havre, in the summer of i860. 
She was no longer a bride, for it was seven years since 


8 New York to Paris. 

her marriage to Dr. Gould, then surgeon in the United 
States Navy; and she was thirty-eight years of age.. But 
she had not outlived, she never did outlive, the youthful 
beauty and grace by which she was distinguished in New 
York society. Her fine feminine wit and address were 
such as to fit her for an easy and un envied leadership in 
whatever social circle she might enter. And to these at- 
tractive qualities were added a true dignity of Christian 
discipleship, and an "enthusiasm of humanity," which 
had endeared her to a multitude, not only of the high, but 
of the lowly. It is not necessary to say, then, that Mrs. 
Gould's " send-off," when she sailed for Havre, was an 
exceptional one. Of the multitude of handkerchiefs that 
waved from the crowd of friends upon the dock, as the 
steamer floated down the North River, not a few were, 
wet with honest tears for the loss of a benefactress as well 
as of a friend. If the future could have been foreseen, the 
friends that lingered to watch the ship as she went dwin- 
dling through the Narrows might have spoken to each other 
the words of the weeping prophet : " Weep sore for her 
that goeth away ; for she shall return no more, nor see her 
native country." 

The story of the Atlantic voyage is a tale so manifold 
more than twice told that it might well be passed by, were 
it not that the grave distresses of the trip in Mrs. Gould's 
case had so much to do in determining the subsequent 
course of her life. But the story would be incomplete 
indeed if it failed to record the incidents upon which, in 
a considerable degree, the later action hinges. 

New York to Paris. 

It IS almost impossible for me to describe our 
voyage from New York to Havre. It was a dreadful 
mixture of fever, foreign lingo, sea-sickness, ship- 
wrecks, frights, thirst and misery generally. We 
started with a fine sunshiny afternoon. Everybody 
seemed in good spirits. Our leave-taking was a 
levee. I did not know we had so many friends. I 
think there were full a hundred who came down to 
say good-bye. For myself, I kept up good courage 
until the ship parted her last cable, when I would 
have given anything to jump ashore again. We . 
went down to tea with good appetites, after which I 
was very magnificent putting Carrie to bed. The 
next day was a lovely one too, and we all assembled 
for worship in the saloon. It was very sweet to 
direct our thoughts to the same Father who was 
watching the dear friends we had left and who holds 
the winds and waves in His hand. 

The next day I disappeared from human view. 

For four days I never saw Mrs. R at all. For 

five successive nights I never closed my eyes. Tell 
me of the majestic magnificence of the sea, and the 
grandeur of being borne on its bosom. I insist that 
it is a beast — I am almost ready to say the beast. It 
has a thousand claws to shake you with, a tail three 
thousand miles long to pound you with, a monstrous 
broad back with which it runs under you to bump 
the breath out of your body ; a great gaping mouth 
with which it is ever striving to swallow you. It is 
a treacherous, fierce, rioting, noisy, thumping, fight- 
ing villain. It has no crested waves, no moonlit 


lo New York to Parts. 

■ ■ j.^— — -^^i— 

beauty, no lovely sunrises, no anything good, but 
everything bad. 

There was an angel on board in the shape of 
a chambermaid, who fed me on ice. Poor James 
took a dreadful cold, which saved my life, as it was 
caught from an open window without which I could 
not exist. At last, on Tuesday came the first light- 
house in view. This was the fifteenth of the month, 
we having left New York May 5, i860. Soon 
afterward came The Lizard light-houses, lines of 
breakers, then The Needles, and at last the lovely Isle 
of Wight, with its verdure such as we never see, its 
cottages, its beautiful cultivation, and its sweet hedge- 
rows. It was like a lovely dream, that short glimpse 
of England, to sick and weary eyes. Here we parted 
with some pleasant fellow-passengers, and were soon 
steaming on toward Havre. We were obliged to lie 
by for the fog during the night, so that it was late in 
the afternoon when the bluff just off Havre rose on 
our sight. This slopes down to join a hill, up which 
creeps the old town. We floated past a queer old 
excrescence of stone with a several-storied tumor of 
wood on the top of it, called St. Francis* Tower, 
passed a series of long, low, quaint old houses, and 
were in the heart of the city. 

Here were narrow streets, high pinched houses, 
be-capped women, be-red-trowsered men, and every- 
thing new and strange. Soon we were taken captive 
by magnificently attired gendarmes^ and on deliver- 
ing our passports, allowed once more to tread dear 
mother earth. Here we entered a couple of car- 
riages and were driven to Frascati's. We were in 

New York to Paris. 1 1 

the hands of an immaculately got-up driver. On 
arriving at the hotel he charged and we' paid one 
franc for his mustache, one for his white gloves, and 
one for his elegant appearance generally — three 
francs more than the other carriage being all that he 

Frascati's is a queer old place. It is an immense 
pile of buildings around a court. The grounds are 
laid out with lovely flowers, trees, and shrubs. Then 
there is a large clock-tower, piles of tiny turrets, a 
theatre, a concert-room, etc. Beyond, one was at 
sea again; Frascati's sea-baths being celebrated. 
The interior is, first, a paved corridor with marble 
stairs at each side ; there is an ofiice on one side, and 
a little conciergerie on the other. Up one flight of 
stairs the fat landlady proceeded and we went up by 
the other 

We were all day getting our goods from the 
custom-house, leaving in the afternoon for Rouen. 
That lovely ride! It is too bad that I have for- 
gotten so much of its beauty; for it is now nearly 
two weeks since we saw it, and so much has occurred 
in this time that the pictures are very much faded 
from my mind. The railroad is hedged for miles. 
Indeed, there are no fences to be seen excepting just 
at the stations ; these latter are situated each in its 
own little garden, smiling with beauty. The hills 
seem to roll both ways, unlike our own, and every 
inch is covered with cultivation. The different 
shades of green, meeting and crossing each other 
in every direction ; the flocks of sheep feeding on 
the hill-sides, each with a black dog and a brown 

12 New York to Paris. 

boy to attend it ; the cows tethered carefully day by 
day so that tl\ere is lovely verdure before and black- 
ness of brownness behind poor Moolly ; the trees so 
trimmed that the poplars look like long poles with 
green plumes in the dim distance above ; the planta- 
tions exquisitely green and leafy; the chateaux so 
grand and extensive; the mud or stone cottages of 
the peasants thatched with sloping roofs; the vil- 
lages with narrow, crooked streets, and odd, gabled 
houses; all form a picture so novel and so lovely 
that we were in a fever of delight and excitement. 
It was a fete day, and the smiling peasants met us at 
each station. They looked very neat and very good- 
natured. The houses are the most interesting edi- 
fices I ever saw. They seem so squeezed that their 
eyes in the shape of windows are always popping out 
unexpectedly. They seem each to stand on tip-toe 
and elbow his neighbor to have a good peep at you, 
and look like an over-dressed lady with tier upon 
tier of gables, staircases, and windows peering one 
above the other. 

Mrs. Gould was always an enthusiastic traveler. The 
many volumes of her journal, extending through fifteen 
years, show with what zealous and delighted study she 
devoted herself to gaining the utmost for her own im- 
provement, from her frequent visits to the most interest- 
ing countries of Europe. And as time went on, and her 
own genuine and sincere instinct of appreciation became 
trained by large opportunities of comparison, and by the 
reading of the best masters in criticism, she gained a 

New York to Paris. 13 

faculty of quick insight into works of art which makes 
her, in her later journals, a delightful guide to the sights 
best worth seeing in the great art-galleries of the world. 
But there is something in the rapture of first meeting 
with the great objects of art and history, in a mind well 
prepared for it by early culture, which is like " love's 
young dream." It never comes a second time ; but while 
it stays it is a finer thing than criticism, and is even 
keener- sighted, in some respects, making observations 
which the practiced eye fails of just because it is prac- 

We shall be interested in reading a few more pages 
from the first volume of the journal ; especially some of 
the commonplace pages, that show us what are the little 
things that " strike a stranger " just arrived. The won- 
dering examination with which she takes inventory of the 
belongings of her first lodgings at Paris answers just the 
questions that some of us want to ask, but which old trav- 
elers in general quite forget to answer ; and to others of 
us it brings up a pleasant reminiscence of our own first 
hour in a strange country. Withal, as we read from page 
to page, we shall be gradually getting better acquainted 
with the writer. 

We have secured rooms at 236 Rue de Rivoli. We 
have a spacious parlor on the second floor. There 
are three square mirrors, one over the mantel which 
is decorated with a pair of bronze and gilt candelabra, 
and a bronze warrior leaning upon a gilt clock. Op- 
posite the mantel is a pier-table, and over it a pier- 

14 New York to Paris. 

glass. This stands between two curtained windows, 
one of which windows turns out to be a looking- 
glass. Under another square mirror is another pier- 
table with smaller candelabra. There are two crim- 
son velvet sofas, four fauteuils, ordinary chairs ad 
libitum, a center-table, a large writing-table, two 
card-tables, and so forth. In the middle of the room 
is a very old-fashioned glass chandelier with gilt 
candlesticks. There are branches for candles in dif- 
ferent parts of the room 

We have as yet seen but little. We spent an hour, 
one day, in the Salle de Napol6on at the Louvre. 
To me it was most affecting. There was his throne. 
There an arm-chair from his cabinet. We looked at 
the splendid crimson-and-gold and scarlet-and-gold 
coats, and the elegant white satin mantle embroi- 
dered with gold bees. Here were the cocked hats he 
wore on various occasions, the clothes that he wore } 

at St. Helena, and locks of his hair and of his son's 
hair. But more interesting still were the little iron 
camp-bedstead which pillowed that great head, the 
folding-chair in which he sat and planned kingdoms 
and an empire, the desk at which he sat and con- 
signed crowns to dust. Sad beyond description are 
the mementoes of the king of Rome — the gilt cradle, 
the little cups and saucers, the bows and arrows, and 
the rest of his toys. For this child the great father 
sacrificed his love and his honor, and brought down 
upon himself the wrath of God. And how was he 
punished in the child ! An early, unhcnored grave 
received the last hope of that proud parent. A life 
without one promise, a death without one hope! 

New York to Paris. 15 

Poor man ! Almost a god, but when he attempted 
to be more than an instrument in the haqds of his 
Maker, crushed like a moth ! 

.... Shall I ever forget our first drive to Neuilly 
the day after we arrived in Paris, — up the beautiful 
Rue de Rivoli with its uninterrupted two miles of 
arches? Here are the lovely gardens of the Tuil- 
leries, with their exquisitely shaded walks, their 
clipped trees, their statues and fountains ; then the 
Place de la Concorde, which can be compared to 
nothing American, and in the midst of it the obelisk 
of Luxor, inaugurated by poor Louis Philippe with 
so much ceremony; and then, the great groups of 
statuary at the entrance to the Champs Elys6es. . . . 

1 »_ 



June— November, i860. 

Through the Low Countries — A Rubens Nights 
mare — Baden-Baden — Palace and Dungeon — 
Switzerland— Alps ! Alps 1 1 — Bad News and 
Back to Paris — Ecole £vaiig61ique — First Day in 
Italy — The Waldenses — Church and Schools-^ 
Viva Italia ! 

THERE is no occasion to transcribe from these 
journals of the "grand tour," pleasantly, some- 
times charmingly written as they are, more than 
here and there a few lines, less for the sake of the subjects 
spoken of than as illustrating the character of the writer. 
To say nothing further of the six weeks' sight-seeing at 
Paris, we may join company with the party once more as 
they start for Belgium and Holland. 

The country (from Paris to Douai) is not like 

ma Normandie, There is nothing of that rolling 

contour of the land. Now and then there is a pretty 

vista with hills in the background, but not often. 

We saw little but a fine, well-cultivated, level fanning 

country. As we advanced the flatness became still 

Seeking a Country, 17 

more marked. In France we certainly see more 
women than men in the fields. But the women after 
all do not look unhappy. They grow very homely, 
however; and it does grate very much against all 
our ideas to see them so employed. I think that 
is one reason why women are so little respected here. 
The poorer classes are always bending their backs 
double, or, if in the cities, frowning over accounts, 
and looking sharper than razors. 

At Douai we found a fSte, and the people nearly 
wild with delight, while they were as big as elephants 
with pride. On our way to the hotel, we came near 
being swallowed alive, carriage, horses, and all, by a 
big, pursy, pop-eyed gendarme. He ran himself 
nearly to death chasing us, because our horses did 
not go on tip-toe in passing a French horn and drum 
which were making a noise in the square. I never 
shall forget his ludicrous, hard-boiled-looking eyes as 
he ran beside the wheels. 

And so on to Brussels with its famous buildings and 
pictures, and Waterloo with its monuments, and Bruges 
with its belfry, and Ghent with its Cathedral and its 
Town Hall. 

It was market-day at Ghent, and the city was full 
of peasant women with queer caps and hats shaped 
like our old-fashioned straws with ribbons plastered 
at the back, lappets projecting on either side, and 
odd, hooded cloaks, called failles. We saw far too 
little of this strange place. We were obliged to take 
a long drive to the railroad station for Antwerp. 

1 8 Seeking a Country. 

Near the station we went into a funny little Dutch 
cafe, and took our dinner in the kitchen to avoid the 
smoke of the dining-room. It was as neat as wax, 
with brick floor and nicely scrubbed utensils. A tiny 
stove held a handful of coal, with two ovens under 
the cylinder to keep things hot when cooked, as only 
a place as big as the hand was exposed directly to the 
fire. What the tea was, I do not know. It had never 
seen China, and was dealt in a pepper-box. 

And now came a ride through the Low Country. 
I never saw such lichness of vegetation. It was like 
Rubens's coloring. The fields extended to the very 
edge of the road, from which they were fenced by 
iron rods. Each ear of grain was a type of grace, 
and' the whole scene one of laughing beauty. We 
crossed the Scheldt soon after leaving this lovely 
patchwork of farms and hedges, but not before pass- 
ing through a country still partly unredeemed from 
the ravages of the fiendish Alva. 

.... I can scarcely bear to write of our visit to 
Antwerp. To me it is almost like a nightmare. I 
suffered dreadfully and in a most mortifying manner 
there. I think Rubens is partly to blame. It seems 
as if I never should forget his magnificent pictures, 
and I am hardly yet able to write an account of them 
without running the risk of a sleepless night. 

Then follows page after page of detailed description of 
the pictures, as if the writer wished thus to transcribe 
them for her own memory, and to hold fast the intensity 
of these first impressions, that can never be renewed. It 
was her method of art study. She would transcribe thus 

Seeking a Country. 19 

the principal pictures of a great gallery into her note- 
book, grouping, coloring, and all, as diligently as the pro- 
fessional student who copies with easel and canvas. Let 
the few words spoken of the Descent from the Cross 
suffice for an example : 

No picture ever affected me as this one did. I was 
haunted by it for days. The flesh-tints of the body 
exceed anything imaginable in power ; the body it- 
self presented to the eye could not affect the mind 
more powerfully. Death is written all over it, in the 
coloring, the position, and .the apparent weight of the 
figure. The body is partly extended upon the cere- 
cloth in which it is to be wrapped The whole 

picture is wonderful. Rubens seems two men. In 
his great works here there seem's a true religious ele- 
ment. Those at Paris are the works of a panderer 
to the lower tastes of man. 

The Hague detains the tourists many days with its 
quiet beauty. 

The first thing we saw as we looked out upon the 
square this morning was a Dutch funeral. The hearse 
was preceded by two clergymen with huge cocked 
hats and long weepers, short breeches, and long silk 
stockings. The hearse-drivers wore a white band, and 
those walking in the procession all wore white cra- 
vats. This singular city has many features to remind 
one of old and young New York. We welcome back 
areas and stoops once more, and greet a front door 
without a conciergerie as if it were an old friend. 

20 Seeking a Cou7itry. 

The brick houses trimmed with stone, the gables, the 
seats on the door-steps, are like our own olden times. 
The peddlers bear their baskets and boxes on yokes, 
as I remember the milkmen did when I was a very 
small child in our own city. 

At Amsterdam ; arriving at evening, the party started 
to inspect the amphibious old town by twilight, and had 
" a most absurd walk." 

Both in Belgium and in Holland we have been 
much admired ; but I think I never was so popular in 
my life as at Amsterdam. James* whiskers and 

mustache were exceedingly attractive ; and C 's 

and my round hats were a Crystal Palace to the 
people. At last we met several peasant girls dressed 
in bodices and skirts, half of black and half of red, 
and wearing gold horseshoe-shaped ornaments, nar- 
rowing at the back of the head, and growing wider 
at the front, where there was a chasing of gold, being 
further adorned with two round-headed shawl-pins, so 
placed as to look as if the pin were driven bodily into 
the skull. The hair was combed straight back from 
the face. A little cap was put on apparently hind- 
side-before. At any rate, there was a square open- 
ing in front which showed the hair. At the back 
there was a hole for the hair to come through, and 
the cap and hair were bound into a wad, and wound 
round with a cotton string. A little white handker- 
chief of muslin covered the dress, which was cut as 
low behind as a fashionable lady with us sometimes 
chooses to cut hers in front. A white apron with a 

Seeking a Country. 21 

narrow black string completed the costume. While 
we were objects of admiration to a female attired in 
this manner, who was going in one direction, and to 
another woman coming in another, the two met with 
such a good, solid Dutch bump, as nearly to knock 
the breath out of the latter's body. Turning to look 
back and scold, the poor thing was next assaulted 
by a round-faced, big-stomached, gaping boy, who, I 
think, finished her. For, just then, my attention was 

called off to C . A young peasant had set off 

with her, bound to his triumphal car, and I did not 
know but he would feed on her for supper. The fel- 
low was pulling a hand-cart, and in a great hurry to 

get home to his pipe. C 's dress was caught in 

the wheel, and her weight presenting no obstacle to 
his perseverance, he dashed on and carried her with 
him. It was vain for her to shout, Attendez ; that 
is probably the Dutch for " Hurry along :'* and be- 
fore we could come up with the procession, her dress 
had been nearly torn off her back. We were by that 
time the center of almost a mob, and were obliged to 
take refuge in a shop to repair damages. Several of 
our admirers, however, were lying in wait for us, and 
followed us to our hotel. 

But this unlucky beginning was followed by day after 
day of great delight in the noble picture-galleries of Am- 
sterdam, the impressions and recollections of which are 
given, as usual, in full detail, in many pages of the journal. 
Before leaving the city, however, they were persuaded to 
spend their last hour in visiting one of its great sights. 

22 Seeking a Country. 

We went to see the tomb of Admiral De Ruyter, 
an object of great admiration to our friends who live 
with the frogs. The recumbent statue of the Ad- 
miral represents a good-looking, big Hollander, who 
has had a very fine dinner, and lain down to digest 
it. In the act of patting his dear stomach, he has 
fallen asleep, and lies in that impressive attitude, an 
excellent specimen of Dutch serenity. It was impos- 
sible to help being amused. And yet the work is 
well executed ; but the Dutch have no imagination. 
However, they are a good, honest, faithful, industri- 
ous people, serving God honestly ; and I both like 
and respect them. All New Yorkers should go on 
pilgrimage to this, which is to many of us, more than 
any other, our mother-country. The aid and comfort 
they afforded our forefathers in their troubles with 
the step-mother country should never be forgotten ; 
and in spite of the funny things they do, their 
ditches and their extreme simplicity, I would rather 
live in Holland than in many a fairer country. Its 
cleanliness too is a very great recommendation. The 
bridges and the boats are scrubbed as thoroughly as 
the floors of the rooms ; and if it were not that the 
Rhine in Holland is rather unmanageable from its 
size, I am quite convinced that they would scrub 
that too. 

The loyal New Yorker's just interest in heroic Amster- 
dam helps to explain, perhaps, how Mrs. Gould failed to 
be drawn by the charms of beautiful, historic Leyden — a 
holy city for pilgrims from New England. From Amster- 

Seeking a Country. 23 

dam by Amheim the party journeyed up the Rhine with 
vast delight. And with fixed resolution to make it all her 
own, and quite regardless of how many guide-books and 
tourists' volumes contain it all in print, she fills her jour- 
nal with full details of every day*s sight-seeing. Those 
who have tried it know what a proof of industrious per- 
tinacity a sustained traveler's journal is, which not 
only fills up the first volume, with no frequent hiatus, but 
goes on to the next and the next in uninterrupted succes- 
sion. We skip to 

Baden-Baden. You poor journal ! But what can 
one do ? I will, however, try to write a little of this 
lovely spot, and thence perhaps "advance back- 
ward " to Heidelberg and the rest. Baden is situated 
in the midst of charming scenery. Its houses nestle 
in the narrow valley, or creep quietly up the hills. 
They look down on a saucy, talkative little brook 
which understands English and never ceases to prat- 
tle about the mountains from which it has come, the 
tall black fir-trees, the commencement of the Black 
Forest, whose shadows are reflected in its waters, the 
lovely harvest -fields and meadows it has enriched, 
and the pretty little valley it has come to visit. The 
best of the thing is that the tiny murmurer is digni- 
fied with the name of River, and calls itself the Oos. 
From our window the view is lovely enough of a 
sweet, smiling range of hills, covered with luxuriant 
vegetation, and leading the eye up to what is called 
the New Castle with Baden-Baden village at its feet, 
and then over lovely forests tq the Old Castle, 

24 Seeking a Country, 

beyond which the tall trees meet the sky. Das neue 
SchlosSy by the way, is not as new, for instance, as a 

Fifth Avenue castle. It was built in 147 1 

Contrasting with the life and light of the banquet- 
hall (in the new castle) with its larger than life- 
sized dukes that fill the panels, its frescoes on the 
ceiling, and its beautifully tesselated wood floors, 
were the dreadful dungeons to which we descended 
by a long, narrow, winding stair. Through grated 
windows perhaps the culprit took his last lingering 
look at the sweet hill-sides he had often climbed, the 
peaceful valley where he was bom, or even the 
cottage that had sheltered his happy infancy. At 
last the light of day entirely faded from his view, as 
he was led deeper and deeper into the darkness of 
those dreadful caverns and found himself in a nar- 
row vaulted chamber lit by lanterns (the places for 
them are pointed out) and in the presence of the 
judges whose hard stone benches may still be seen. 
The agony of that dreadful hour may be imagined 
by one who lool^s upon the frightful place where 
it was endured. Then came the examination by 
masked men with feigned voices, the leading to the 
chamber of torture, the application of the question. 
Released from the rack, he is unbound and led to 
kiss the image of the Virgin at a little distance. The 
poor wretch takes the first step to obey this order ; it 
is his last on earth. He falls through a trap-door 
some ninety feet, upon a revolving wheel whose 
knives and lancets extinguish the last remnant of his 
miserable life. But if he be not adjudged to instant 
death, how much more misei'able his fate! Trem- 

Seeking a Country: 25 

bling with fear, he is placed in a chair wound up 
to the top of the castle by a windlass and let down 
through a shaft in the tower to a horrible abode 
of darkness, where no ray of light or hope can ever 
enter. Against hard stone walls he may dash his 
brains if he will. It is his only privilege. No outlet 
can be seen or even felt, for the door is a solid 
mass of granite moving on a pivot. The shaft which 
served to convey air to these subterranean chambers 
runs the whole depth of the tower in which it was 
pierced, and there is no window in any of the dun- 
geons communicating even with that 

And so up the Rhine again by Strasburg to Bale, and 
thence for Schaffhausen. 

We were at last in Switzerland. Our road lay 
through vine-covered hills and laden orchards. We 
are surrounded by mountains, and have constant 
views of the exquisite river. The towns we meet on 
this ride are hoary with age and romantically situated. 
Laufenberg is a specimen of them, situated on a 
range of crags overhanging the Rhine, which here 
turns and breaks in beautiful rapids. The houses are 
high and narrow, and have a squeezed appearance. 
On one side of the village is a gray old tower, and 
within it a young tree, standing proud in its young 
strength, and overlooking the scene from the midst of 
this ruin. We saw all this at a glance, and were then 
immediately swallowed up by a tunnel. The scenery, 
with the exception of these queer little villages, 

26 Seeking a Country. 

reminds me of the Green Mountains and the Con- 
necticut Valley. 

Just after leaving Zurich, and coming out of the 
jaws of another long tunnel, the Alps, THE ALPS, 
rose before us. And as we advanced on the brow of 
a range of hills, looking down upon harvest-fields and 
Swiss villages, and meadows, with evergreens climb- 
ing the hill and wreathing it a crown of verdure as 
they climb, — looking far away from all this, over 
ranges of green mountains, and far-distant blue peaks, 
we see these snow Alps bending from their awful 
height, and calling us to look away from earth to 
heaven. But we soon lost them, much to my sorrow. 

By way of Constance and its lake, they come really into 
the midst of the mountains. 

Friday y August 4, i860 We left the 

boat at Rohrschach, and then the glories of the scene 
began. It was a ride of some four hours in the cars 
to Coire. The road was at first simply pretty, with 
views of the lake we had just left ; vine-covered 
slopes, castle-crowned heights of ordinary beauty. 
But soon there was real Alpine scenery to delight us. 
The hills did not seem to rise in one single slope, but 
as if several were lifted from the ground side by side, 
and the green waves passed over each in succession. 
Then the splendid mountains towering far above us, 
while the little villages nestled their brown heads 
under the shadows. And when they stooped their 
great forms, how gloriously the gorges opened new 
gates to admit more distant views! The chalets 

Seeking a Country. 27 

looked like squirrels climbing a tr^e, as they showed 
far up the mountain sides. And how picturesque the 
peasants were with their red head-dresses, their blue 
bodices and skirts, their white sleeves and black 
aprons ! And the herdsmen, with their cows and their 
kids, looked to us to-day, every one of them like a 
William Tell. Overlooking some gorge, or crowning 
some hill, are old castles, such as the Wartau, on the 
right bank of the Rhine, or the Schloss Gutburg, 
with a square tower and two or three bits of wall, 
around which nature is weaving a green robe. And 
farther down are the slender-spired churches and the 
white houses ; the vineyards and golden orchards of 
the valley, while a mountain torrent or a ribbon- 
like rill, which owes its birth to the snows, or the 
Rhine itself in its pebbly bed is always to be seen. 
These mountains stand forth in their primitive naked- 
ness ; those man has wreathed with vines, and these 
others are covered to the very summit with forest 
trees. Here is a long, long range of splendid Alps, 
wearing to-day a scarf of cloud-drift ; and far above 
them, with a robe of snow, towers one of the mon- 
archs of Switzerland. Here are conical peaks, bare 
as the pyramids of Egypt, and reminding us of them ; 
and here are sharp-pointed peaks, shooting upward. 
And here, almost under their shadow, we rest for the 
night at the Weisses Kreutz, where we find much 
better accommodation than we could have hoped for 
from appearances; have a comfortable meal in our 
own room, and hope for fine weather for the Via 
Mala to-morrow. 

28 Seeking a Country. 

This was the beginning of " the regular Swiss round." 
From the Spltigen to Ragatz and Pfeffers, where they 
found " greater v/onders than ever." Thence to Zurich 
and up the headwaters of the Rhine, and by Andermatt 
to Lucerne, and over the Scheideck under the great peaks 
to Interlaken, and to Visp, and Zermatt and the Monte 
Rosa, v/hence by Martigny and Chamounix to Geneva. 
And here a bitter piece of news to one of the party in- 
terrupted the course of the journey, and they all turned 

back toward Paris, *' with poor, dear, afflicted , to 

see her thus far on her way to her desolate home 

Father and sister gone within a short month of each 

We left Geneva for Paris on Friday, October 12. 
.... We were off after considerable humbug. Wc 
could not sit down until we had bought our tickets, 
and James could not remain with us after we had ; 
and he could not have the baggage checked without 
showing the tickets; and he must not put us in the 
cars, etc., etc. And we must get into the cars, and 
he must leave us by Geneva time ; and we must wait 
and start by Paris time. At last, when all these lit- 
tle experiments and a few others had been tried on 
us, the steam-whistle blew our brains out, and we 
were off at almost lightning speed. How beautiful 
Geneva lay this afternoon, with the long reaches of 
snow on the Jura, as if nature were spreading out her 
sheets for a general bleaching ; with its lovqly build- 
ings and bridges; with the deep blue water of the 
lake and the river; with the terraced range of the 

Seeking a Country. 29 

Saline. Then we left it behind, but took its moun- 
tains with us as a background, and plunged into the 
country. Autumn has fairly come, and the foliage 
has turned jealous at her arrival, and the leaves begin 
to lie under the trees. The vine-leaves hang yellow 
and thin, and the purple clusters alone look warm. 
As to the Rhone, it has lost all the sweet hue which 
it had borrowed from the lake, and is cold, and gray, 
and rapid, and wintry, and desolate as the Tamina, 
reminding me very often of that chilled and rock- 
bound stream. It plays every part to-day that water 
can play. Sometimes it is a narrow, winding brook, 
madly impetuous indeed, but looking too insignifi- 
cant to live long, and perfectly restrained by the high 
banks which inclose it ; and again it has spread out, 
as at Macon, into a lake, and seems destined to carry 
away the land which surrounds it. Suddenly the 
river contracts. We pass a singular-shaped moun- 
tain, rising sheer from its bank, and covered with 
dwarfed trees wearing their autumn crown, and are in 


With the struggling dawn we entered Paris, and 
taking a carriage, drove to the Westminster. How 
pretty the city looked in the early morning, and how 
familiar ! 

October i6th. I learned something more of the 

Ecole Evangelique for poor children of which E 

told me on Sunday. It seems that Mile. Dumas, No. 
18 Rue Neuve St. Genevieve, has been the Elisabeth 
Fry of France. She has visited the prisons and tried to 
do the prisoners good. While making her visits to 

30 Seeking a Country, 

them, she found many who had abandoned or been 
taken from their children. One by one she sought 
out these little ones of sin and shame, and took them 
to her home. But more and more seemed to claim 
her sympathy. She spent her fortune, restricting 
herself to the simplest food and dress, giving up 
sugar and butter, etc. ; and still the little ones con- 
tinued to knock at the door of her heart. She was 
finally obliged to solicit aid, and has obtained it, so 
that she has now a school of five hundred children, 
and two houses have been taken and united by a 
chapel. They live very simply ; have wine on Sun- 
days, and on other days small-beer, or whatever two 
or three hops in water may be called ; dress in blue 
cloth, etc. The externes pay a franc a month, and 
the boarders 300 francs a year. Three evangelical 
clergymen go out once a week to care for them. 

Thursday^ Nov, i — Turin, Our first day in Italy. 
.... The little bits of Italian life that we have seen 
of course interest us exceedingly. In one street was 
a blind man with four little girls. The old man 
played the violin and the children the cithern, and 
all sang most sweetly. Between two arches, a gym- 
nast was mounting by his feet stretched apart to 
their utmost distance. He descended at one time 
by a series of small leaps, at another by putting his 
hands in the place of one foot and so sliding down. 
I think he was in separatie pieces and hung together 
only by his pantaloons. Another magician was bal- 
ancing a poor little girl in every possible position 
on his toes. A " happy family " of cats, birds, mon- 
keys, rats, etc., were on exhibition in another part of 

Seeking a Country. 31 

our walk; and on all comers were men roasting 
chestnuts. We were particularly pleased with the 
soldiers, who look so like men and so little like ma- 
chines. James pointed out to us the sharpshooters 
with their little low hats decked with bunches of 
cocks' feathers, and we longed to say "God speed 
you " to every one of them. 

The Turin picture-gallery is not a famous one ; but it is 
pleasant to quote the concluding sentence from the sev- 
eral pages of journal which relate to it. " I enjoyed 
the collection, although I believe I ought not. I am glad 
I did, however, and I always mean to be glad in the like 


Turiuy Sundayy Nov. ^th. The Government has 
given the Vaudois a handsome church edifice, in 
which they hold regular serviqes. We went there 
this morning. It is delightful to attend their simple 
worship. On entering, every one stands a moment 
with bowed head. The prayers, which are very sim- 
ple and beautiful, are read, but this is optional, as 
I was told by the pastor. The chapter and com- 
mandments are read by the clerk, who has a little 
desk under the pulpit and who also leads the sing- 
ing. There is an organ, but no choir. The men sit 
on one side and the women on the other. The con- 
gregation stand during prayer, and sit during, the 
other services. After sermon and prayer, the Apos- 
tles* Creed is read, the Lord's Prayer is said, and the 
Levitical and Apostolic Benedictions are pronounced. 

32 Seekinf^ a Cotintry. 

The services being over, James thought well to speak 
to the clergyman, who seemed much gratified, and 
took us into a little vestry, where he removed his 
band and gown, and was very kind in giving us infor- 
mation with regard to his people. I have been 
exceedingly interested in an account of them by 
Monastier, published in 1848, which Mr. Bert was 
kind enough to lend mc. I had never read, before, 
any account of the Glorteuse Rentr^e. This was the 
return of the Vaudois from Switzerland, where they 
had been received, welcomed, and cared for. But 
they were anxious to return to their native valleys, 
and serve God in their own temples, and bring their 
children around their own hearth-stones again. Their 
kind hosts could not allow them to leave Switzer- 
land, as they had promised the Duke of Savoy, 
when he opened the door to these persecuted ones, 
that they would not let them go back. Two or three 
unsuccessful attempts were made to escape, and 
the final one, which succeeded through unparalleled 
difficulties, is described at length, and is most in- 

There has been another battle, and the city is 
illuminated. The palace and the public buildings 
connected with it are blazing with little lights in 
rows. The old castle has its fagade decorated with 
flags of red, white, and green, surmounted with stars 
and crowns, and the king's cipher, and Viva Italia. 
The Hotel de Ville is ornamented in the same way, 
and the Senate House has a beautiful and novel 
decoration. Trees of evergreen are terminated with 
large masses of red and white flowers like fuchsias—^ 

Seeking a Country. ^^ 

an exceedingly pretty device. Men are singing patri- 
otic songs, and music and processions passing through 
the streets. I am sorry they could not wait till 

Monday y Nov, 6th. We saw too much to-day, that is 
certain. The first part of it was spent most delight- 
fully. By appointment v/ith Mr. Bert, we went to 
visit the Vaudois institutions in the parsonage build- 
ing. We saw first the rooms of the young men, 
apprentices to various trades. The Vaudois in former 
times being forbidden to practice any of these, on 
account of their religion, the younger generation 
Avould of cours^^Jj^Iuijabte^^sijearn them at home. 
Hence they /'ar^ sent to jFuHltv^here they are 
boarded, lodged, and hay^ th^ir wasaing done at the 
r^te of only t^n "Irancs a mohtn, ^fec two years. If 
during this p^fiQl^Qf probati^^ey do well, all ex- 
penses cease forSwKSffli^'t*^ remaining years of 
their apprenticeship. Above is the hospital, where 
the sick are cared for. Formerly, in Catholic hospitals 
they were persecuted with constant endeavors to 
turn them from their faith ; the dying were not 
spared from these importunities ; and even the mem- 
ory of the poor Christian was assailed, the priests 
asserting that' he had died in the " Catholic *' faith. 
A deaconess is in charge of these sick persons. 
Next came the children. The boys, under the care 
of their master, a Vaudois from the valleys, were 
writing. The little fellows were taking great pains 
with their penmanship, while the master was very 
proud of them. The girls, who were in another 
room, all rose when we entered and wished us good- 


34 Seekifif^ a Country. 

morning. They too were writing at this hour ; but 
their teacher called on them to lay aside their books 
and sing for us, which they did very sweetly. With 
their Buon giorno in our ears, we entered the Infant- 
class-room, where a large school of tiny boys and 
girls were gathered around their teacher, a remarka- 
bly pretty and bright young girl, who was teaching 
them their letters There is a printing estab- 
lishment and a library, and the room lent to the 
English for their services is used during the week 
for religious services, and for lectures on historical or 
scientific subjects. Thus these persecuted people, 
allowed at last to worship the God of their fathers 
with none to make them afraid, are engaged in every 
good work. I hope v/e may yet have an oppor- 
tunity of becoming better acquainted with them 
in their homes. 

Three things in the foregoing pages from Mrs. Gould's 
journal deserve to be noted as destined to have no small 
influence on the course of her subsequent life. First, her 
" love at first sight " for Italy, which grew, on longer 
acquaintance, into a true patriotic affection for the land 
that was to be her home, almost like the love she bore to 
the land of her birth. Second, her interest in the ancient 
Waldensian or Vaudois Church, of whose communion she 
afterward became a member, and to which she bequeathed 
as a legacy the dearest of all her possessions — the care of 
the Italo-American schools. Third, her sincere and ten- 
der interest in children, and especially in everything that 

Seeking a Country. 35 

could tiend to the advancement and improvement of the 
children of the poor. How deep-seated and genuine and 
constitutional was this feeling in her mind ; how little de- 
pendent on interesting or romantic circumstances; how 
little there was of sentimentality in it, and what absolute 
absence of cant ; and under what a just title of inherit- 
ance she came by this trait of a noble woman : will ap- 
pear in the course of this book, and particularly in the 
next chapter. 


1 822-1 86a 

Recollections of Mrs. Gould's Parents—Emily's Forty 
Children in the Sunday^chool — Marriage to Dr, 
yames B. Gould— Declining Health— Aggravations 
of the Voyage — Invigoration by Mountain Walks. 

WHAT sort of youth it was that ripened into 
such beautiful and fruitful maturity ; under 
what training those fine qualities were devel- 
oped which won universal love and admiration in later 
life ; by what title of spiritual inheritance these qualities 
were possessed, are questions not in the least difficult or 
obscure in the case of Mrs. Gould. The story of her 
parentage and girlhood answers them plainly. 

Emily Bliss was born in New York May 30, 1822. Her 
father was Dr. James C. Bliss, an eminent and beloved 
physician, of whom one who knew him well for fifty years 
writes : " He was the purest and most noble-minded man 
I ever knew. Every thought seemed to be governed by 
an enlightened conscience. I believe that hundreds owed 

their lives to his unselfish and benevolent care." 



The same writer, a venerable lady still living, gives her 
recollections of Emily's mother, Maria Mumford Bliss, 
which go back to 1816 — to the days when they were girls 
together in the old Garden Street Reformed Dutch Church, 
under the charge of Dr. James Matthews. It was in that 
year that she became a member of this church. She says 
of herself: 

" I was very* anxious and very ignorant ; and Dr. 
Matthews introduced me to Miss Maria Mumford as 
one of his most efficient helpers. She was just the 
instructress I needed — spiritual, intelligent, well 
versed in the Scriptures, with a most cheerful and 
loving spirit — and she soon became to me as a dear 
sister. The next year the Sunday-school movement 
began. Mrs. Divie Bethune (if I mistake not) was 
the first to propose it. Miss Mumford and Mrs. 
Bethune were well known to each other, and Mrs. 
Bethune selected Miss Mumford as her secretary. 
Afterward Miss Mumford became [local] Secretary 
of the American Sunday-school Union. I can hardly 
give you too high an idea of the self-denying zeal 
with which the secretary performed her duties. The 
first Sunday-school was organized and opened in the 
lecture-room of the Dutch Church in Garden Street. 
Miss Mumford was superintendent of this school, in 
which I was a teacher, and the work done by her 
would astonish the young school teachers of our 
time. All correspondences, all new constitutions 
for country schools, were referred to her. She or- 
ganized our Sabbath - school teachers' meeting, of 

38 Retrospective. 

which she was the leader; she arranged our juvenile 
tract societies ; she was the head and front of all our 
female meetings. During a visit to friends of mine, 
in which she accompanied me, she organized three 
Sunday-schools and tract societies, sending them, on 
her return to the city, the needful books. One of 
these schools was in Dr. Johnson's church, at New- 
burg — even then a large town. 

" In her last hours it was my privilege to be present 
with her, and never can I forget the solemn scene, 
when she addressed to each of those in the room her 
parting words of exhortation, and committed the lit- 
tle daughter, Emily, to the love of her Father in 
Heaven. Emily was nine years of age at that time." 

To others as well as to this cherished friend and associate 
in good works this tranquil and beautiful death-bed scene 
was impressed forever upon the memory. But to none so 
deeply as to the little girl of nine years old who was 
brought from her bed, in her night-clothes, as the morn- 
ing began to dawn, to receive the last blessing and fare- 
well of her saintly mother. "Draw aside the curtain, 
Emily," said the dying woman. And when the little girl 
had let in the light to shine upon her mother's face, and 
had come back wondering and awe-struck to the bedside, 
she listened to these last words : " My darling child, look 
here upon your mother's face. Look well upon it, that 
you may never forget it, and never forget your mother's 
dying words." And then pausing a moment, she added, 
in a subdued voice : " Let the Lord Jesus Christ be your 

Retrospective. 39 

guide. Follow Him, for all your well-being for time and 
eternity depends on your devotion to Him." The lesson 
of that hour was never lost; for the child walked ever 
afterward in her mother's footsteps.* 

Emily Bliss was hardly more than a child, when her 
dead mother's religious earnestness and strong affection 
for children, that reached out for the lowest and neediest, 
reappearing in the heart and life of the daughter, began to 
show itself in practical effort. She always fascinated chil- 
dren ; and the sight of this child-teacher surrounded by 
her class of forty other children, is still remembered by 
some that saw it. She wrote afterward for the American 
Tract Society some reminiscences of this Sunday-school 
class, which were published in a thin volume of the 
small Sunday-school book pattern, entitled " Little Pil- 
grims." And one of the last published productions of her 
pen was a letter to the Sunday-school children of the Uni- 
ted States in behalf of her Italian schools, from which we 
transcribe so much as speaks of this part of her life. 

Rome, December 20, 1874. 
My Dear Children : 

Did you ever hear of Briareus ? If you never did, 
you will some day. He had a hundred hands and 
feet. [ can not say I should like to have a hundred 
hands.. It would be so very uncomfortable when they 
all got cold at once, and then it v/ould be very tire- 

* Chancellor Crosby's address at the Memorial service held in 
the Fourth Avenue Presbyterian church, New York, November 
12, 1876. 

40 Retrospective. 

some to put on so many gloves when one wanted to 
go out. But sometimes just one pair of hands does 
not seem enough. It will not write a letter to each 
one of you at a time, and that is what I should like 
to do. But as I can not, I wish each one of you 
would consider this letter as written to him or her- 
self, and as you listen to it, make up your minds to 
answer it in some' way. 

Many years ago, when I was old enough to leave the 
Sunday-school, and go into the Bible-class, I asked my 
father to let me take an infant class. He thought I had 
better learn more myself; but you see, there were some 
little children that I loved so dearly, and I wanted to 
have them with me every Sunday. So my father con- 
sented to let me be a teacher instead of a scholar, and 
six little children, who were too young to read, came 
to me the next Sunday. My dear little girls ! How 
I loved them ! By-and-by my class grew too large to 
meet in the Sunday-school room, and we had to go 
up into the gallery of the church, and there forty 
little boys and girls met every Sunday. How often 
I think of them ; of dear little Carrie, whom God 
wanted in heaven, and who soon left us, in her Sav- 
iour's arms, safe forever with Him ; of Bobbie, a 
poor little Irish boy. Poor Bobbie ! One of his 
shoes was so bad that he could not keep it on any 
longer, but he wore the best one ; and on the other 
poor, cold little foot, his father let him wear 'one of 
his boots. There was Bella too, who was not a very 
good little girl. She used to get angry sometimes, 
and push, and even strike. Then I used to say, 
" Come, let us sing something.*' All the children 

Retrospective. 41 

stood up when I said that, excepting Bella. But 
before the first verse was over Bella got up too. 
The angry color in her cheeks went away, the naughty 
little hands were still, and yery soon 1 began to hear 
her clear little voice with the rest. When we sing 
about Jesus we can not keep angry, can we ? Well ! 
I can not tell you about all my little children. They 
are all grown up now, excepting those that the dear 
Father in heaven took to live with Him. I taught 
them something, but they taught me much more: 
to love children dearly, to make them love me, to 
know how to tell them of Him who died for them. 
That infant class was the school in which God put me 
to make me ready for a work here. 

Beside the best opportunities of education that New 
York afforded, Emily enjoyed the benefits of some years' 
residence in the family of M. Picot, principal of a noted 
French school in Philadelphia, The facility which she 
there gained in the use of the French language was des- 
tined to be of the greatest value both to herself and to 

On the 22d of September, 1853, Emily Bliss was mar- 
ried to Dr, James B. Gould, Surgeon in the United 
States Navy. The next year her husband resigned his 
commission, and settled at New York in the practice 
of medicine and surgery in partnership with Dr. Bliss. 
But in May, i860, the failure of Mrs. Gould's health re- 
quired that voyage to Europe which is related in the first 
chapter, and from which she never returned alive. 

42 Retrospective. 

Those inconsiderate people who are accustomed to think 
of sea-sickness as never anything more than a pretty severe 
practical joke, are quite incapable of appreciating the pro- 
tracted anguish, permanently damaging the health and en- 
dangering or actually shortening the life, to which some 
are subjected by it. To these inappreciative people it 
will doubtless seem very absurd that the distress and dan- 
ger of a sea voyage should be a grave consideration in de- 
ciding important questions. But in fact there have been 
not a few cases in which the course of important lives has 
been modified, and wisely modified, by this consideration. 
And Mrs. Gould's must be counted among them. Those 
who follow this story to the end will find evidence enough 
that she was not of the number of those Americans " with 
souls so dead," who willingly spend their lives abroad from 
sheer lack of interest in their own home and country. It 
is a pleasure to relieve her memory of this reproach by 
counting her among those involuntary exiles of necessity 
and duty, whose patriotic love and pride only grows 
stronger by years of absence. It was with a serious mean- 
ing, and not with a mere playful aptitude of quotation, 
that she was wont to cite, among the comforting promises 
connected with the New Jerusalem, the assurance that 
there shall be " no more sea." 

A recurring hay-fever had irritated and weakened her 
system to an alarming degree. Embarking in this unfa- 
vorable condition, ** she suffered exceedingly on the pas- 
sage, and arrived in Paris worn out with fever and want 
of sleep." [The quotations are from a letter of Dr. 

Retrospective. 43 

Gould, of the time]. " Our rooms are opposite the gar- 
dens of the Tuileries — a beautiful situation, but with too 
much vegetation near it for her health. Still, with all 
these drawbacks, she enjoys everything with the zest of a 
child, or, rather, of an intelligent, educated, and enthu- 
siastic woman. Nothing escapes her notice or apprecia- 
tion. She speaks the language with the utmost fluency 

and correctness, the result of early training J t will be 

better for her to get the bracing air of Switzerland, before 
returning to the more highly cultivated regions, where she 
would be more liable to be troubled with her fever." 

The hopes of her improvement in Switzerland were 
fairly realized. She writes to a friend from Chamounix : 

You know, I think, how much my fever is miti- 
gated by exercise in the open air. When we began 
mountain travel, however, it was much increased by 
the antics of the horses (if they are really the same 
animals which we knew by that name in America). 
They snort defiance at all attempts to guide them ; 
persist in surveying the depths below, on the very 
edges of unfathomable precipices ; never go on when 
you wish them to, and always stop when you are in 
a hurry. They understand neither French, English, 
nor German, and are obedient only to certain fright > 
ful sounds emitted by the guides, and disagreeably 
suggestive of the agonies of sea-sickness. 

With some difficulty I persuaded James to allow 
me to try walking where carriages could not be taken, 
and the experiment has proved wonderfully success- 
ful, my health having constantly improved ever since 

^ I 

44 Retrospective. 

I commenced taking long walks. So I left Martigny 
early Thursday, September 27th, for the ascent of the 
TSte Noire, with my alpenstock as my only com- 
panion, preceding the others by about an hour. 

.... This torrent of the Trient is a very wonder- 
ful river. Noisy and rapid as it is now, I saw it at Mar- 
tigny imprisoned in rocky walls a thousand feet high. 
It reminds me of the impetuosity and heedlessness of 
a youth who thinks the world before him is for him to 
conquer, and bursts through the restraints of home to 
throw himself into life. This young river opposes 
itself to all the obstacles in its course, sweeps down 
the huge boulders that would stay its waves, but 
is caught and imprisoned for twelve or fifteen miles 
between adamantine walls, chafes and rages in vain 
against the stony barrier on either side, and when, 
with waters that never reflected a sunbeam or a 
waving tree, a smiling field, or a hamlet, it finds its 
way at last out of its prison-house, it is plunged into 
the Rhone, and its existence blotted out forever. 


November, i860— February, 1861. 

To Milan — The Plain of Lomhardy — Milan: 
Cathedral— The '* Last Supper " — Genoa : 
Strange Sights and Queer People — Panoramx 
of " La Superba " — Garihaldians — Florence 
— The Glory of the Boholi Gardens — To Rome 
by Siena— Home at Last, 

^Jp^ EING such as she is shown to be in these extracts, 
1-^% it is as obvious that Mrs. Gould, in choosing a 
^^^ residence, will be drawn toward Italy and Rome, 
as it is in the case of some other persons, that they will 
settle in Paris. The fine verse of Childe Harold, 


O Rome, my country, city of the soul ! " 

only translates what is a proverb in other languages than 
English, and expresses a sentiment common to poetic and 
thoughtful minds, even of those who never have trodden 
the classic peninsula, nor seen the Eternal City. 

It is not necessary to follow in detail the well-beaten 
route of tourists toward Rome — by Milan, Verona, Venice, 
back again to Genoa, and so by Leghorn and Pisa to Flor- 
ence. At every stopping place, Mrs. Gould went through 


46 '' O Romcy My Country/'' 

with the regular round of sights, writing them up dili- 
gently in her journal, and in particular " doing " the pic- 
ture-galleries with the ardent zeal of the cultivated Ameri- 
can tourist, who combines preparation of mind with abso- 
lutely unslaked zest of appetite. The delighted descrip- 
tions of the paintings and statues that she most enjoyed, 
fill page after page of her journals, and overflow from 
volume to volume. But we can only touch here and there, 
almost at random, a bit of description that seems charac- 
teristic of the writer or of the country that she loved only 
next to her own. 

Tuesday, Nozk Jth. We left Turin this morning at 
8.50 for Milan, in the express train, which brought us 
to our journey's end at half-past twelve. The plain 
through which Victor Emanuel's railroad runs, is 
one of great fertility and beauty. We are no longer 
confined to meadows and pasture-fields as in Switzer- 
land, but there are rich gardens, furrows, and hillocks 
that tell of abundant grain and vegetables, while 
the grass is of the deepest hue, and not choked 
with weeds. The absence of fences is very striking 
in so extensive a plain. The trees are many and 
old. Mulberry-trees are scattered here and there, 
the raising of the silkworm being an important in- 
dustry. The trees are kept low, and at a distance 
resemble large water-willows. As soon as we had 
crossed the mountains, we began to see little bits of 
the picturesque, that remind one of the childish ideas 
we all form of this land. I am surprised to find how 
entirely brick is substituted for stone in the buildings* 

'* O Rome, My Country ! '* 47 

Certainly the former would seem to be much the Ie§s 
capable of producing any impression of the pictur- 
esque upon the mind. But the houses are stuccoed ; 
they have pointed windows ; there are queer swallow- 
nest appendages to them ; the roofs abound in strange 
windows, or are, so to speak, terraced ; or, if the build- 
ing is an irremediably straight up and down thing, the 
chimneys at least indulge in all sorts of fantasies, and 
are rows of little columns supporting a tiny roof, or 
little Gothic shrines, or something or other to please 
the eye and prevent monotony. Just so with the 
people's dress. They delight in red handkerchiefs 
upon their heads. The men put on, perhaps, a blue 
cap with a red tassel. The everlasting browns and 
grays one sees at home are at least accompanied with 
warmer hues, just as the brown and shriveled skins 
are lighted up with dark, bright eyes and crimsoned 
cheeks. The old women we met coming from town 
as we were on the road to the Superga would, any one 
of them, have been an effective figure in a picture. 
First, was the droll, dignified little long-eared don- 
key, the very embodiment of Italian independence. 
He was decorated with two heaps of empty baskets, 
one on either side, and between them was packed Gaf- 
fer with a red handkerchief on her head, a blue bodice, 
and a gray gown, her black eyes sparkling, and her 
brown face lighted up with a pleasant smile. And 
the dolce far niente f All that we. met driving carts, 
I believe, without exception, were lying at full length 
therein, leaving the driving to. the animal who is gen- 
erally supposed to be, not the driver, but the drivee. 
We observed the cattle, as in Switzerland. The oxen 

48 " O Romey My Country / " 

are very fine. Those we saw about Turin were splen- 
did creatures of a dun color, large and well-built. Each 
one has a little cloth on its back, about as large as 
I suppose it would require for a pocket-handker- 
chief. .... 

Wednesday y Nov, %th, I did not feel much like ris- 
ing this morning, but the Duomo refusing to come to 
me, there was nothing but for me to go and pay my 
respects to it. It is to me the most magnificent crea- 
tion of the genius of man that I have ever seen. The 
outside, from the ground, does not strike me as did 
the cathedral of Cologne. But the interior is mag- 
nificent beyond anything I have ever imagined. The 
vastness of the building can be comprehended, as I 
suppose that of St. Peter's can not. Standing at one 
end of the nave and looking toward the high altar, 

the view is superb But fine as is the interior, 

it is nothing to the exterior, as surveyed from the 
roof. This is a combination of sublimity and beauty 
— sublimity in vastness and strength, and beauty in 
finish and detail. The pinnacles are each a splendid 
Gothic monument, exquisitely sculptured and adorned 
with statues of perfect workmanship. It} has a relig- 
ious character which has before seemed to me to be 
wanting in such edifices. It seems a vast temple 
always filled with God's worship, in which the archi- 
tect had striven to lift the mind from the work of his 
own hands to the great Being in whose honor he 
built. The statues seem to embody the communion 
of saints, and, so far from requiring worship, to be 
themselves setting the example of fervent prayer, or 
by their attitude to point us upward far above the 

" O Rome, My Country / " 49 

loftiest of these pinnacles To-day, not being 

well, I have not studied this exquisite creation as I 
hope to do ; and I must leave it after we have paid 
a little visit to the tomb of St. Charles Borromeo. 
This is under the high altar. The little chapel is partly 
lighted from an opening in the floor of the cathedral ; 
but twelve candles are also kept burning on the 
shrine. The sarcophagus is of crystal and silver. 
The silver covering was removed, and we stepped up 
to look at what could be done by man for the honor 
of a fellow mortal. Clothed in rich robes, with a 
golden crozier studded with diamonds by his side, 
a gold cross sparkling with the same precious gems, 
and the most magnificent emerald cross I ever saw, 
lay a blackened, grinning skeleton. And this is all 
that is left of this great saint, for saint he doubtless 
was, and when his spiritual body shall be seen, it will 
have all the beauty and glory wanting now, while the 
jewels and gold that are lavished here will take their 

proper place as dross for the fire 

Thursday y Nov. gtk. To-day we have seen a sight 
such as we shall never see again when we have bid- 
den our final farewell to Milan. In the church of Sta. 
Maria delle Grazie, or rather in the refectory of the 
adjoining convent, is the **Last Supper " of Leonardo 
da Vinci. I was going to say the immortal picture, 
but, alas ! it is fast passing away, and in a few years 
will have ceased to exist. The picture is painted on 
the wall, and has been ruined by the elements. It 
has been flooded several times, and the room has 
been made a stable for horses and a store-room for 
forage. The St. John has the face so disfigured that 

50 " O Rome, My Country / " 

I could not tell anything about the beauty of it ; but 
the figure is wonderful. It is almost angelic, but 
withal there is in it true human suffering and shrink- 
ing. The other apostles have, generally, as they 
should have, hard, rude, strongly-marked faces. The 
painter has not forgotten that they were of the com- 
mon people. St. Philip only has his softened by the 
love for his divine Master, which he seems to be ex- 
pressing. One could imagine that his emotions were 
too deep for utterance, and there seems an involun- 
tary clutching of the heart, as if its action had been 
impaired by the intensity of love and sorrow. The 
others, either incredulous or angry, have a more stern 
and harsh expression than their faces would ordina- 
rily wear. All this is true to nature. St. Thomas, 
with uplifted hand and forefinger, seems carried away 
with his righteous indignation. St. Peter has unwit- 
tingly seized a knife with one hand, while the other 
rudely grasps the shoulder of the shrinking and lov- 
ing beloved disciple. The attitude of this latter is a 
volume of loveliness. It expresses grief so great 
that the swaying body has yielded to the hand laid 
upon it, and might be hurled to the ground without 
thinking or caring. It is abandoned to the agony of 
the afflicted spirit. But the figure and face of the 
Saviour ! " Did e*er such love and sorrow meet ? " 
It is the realization of the Man of Sorrows. It is 
He who consented to die. It is the bending to par- 
take of the cup of agony, each drop of which was 
known to the divine Sufferer. The sweet, loving face 
bears the expression of the deep sorrow that weighed 
upon the spirit. And the love and pity, too, in that 

" O RomCy My Country / " 51 

countenance, with calm, fixed determination, the vol- 
untas surrender of Himself to the shame and the 
agony ! Wonderful inspiration ! It is said that Leo- 
nardo sav/ this face in a vision. One thing is certain : 
he understood in his heart the blessed Gospel whose 
King he has depicted. Other faces of Jesus that we 
see have an effeminate aspect ; this has not. Others 
are human only ; this is divine. There is no look 
toward the betrayer — no mere suffering — no mere 
resignation. All these are expressed, but they are 

glorified I think Mrs. Browning must have 

had this picture in her mind when, in her poem upon 
" Cowper*s Grave," she speaks of the poet waking 
from the sleep of death 

" Beneath those deep, pathetic eyes. 
Which closed in death to save him.'* 

Farewell, for the present, lovely vision of divine 
beauty ! 

We resume the extnicts from the journal, at Milan, 
again, after the party has returned thither on the way to 
Genoa, after a visit to Venice and Verona. 

Genoa, Nov, 21st. We left the Grande Bretagne at 
Milan this morning a little before eight o'clock, to 
take the cars for Genoa. I groaned in spirit at being 
obliged to rise so early, but I must confess that the 
splendid mountain views almost repaid me for the 
effort. Monte Rosa was a resplendent bride. No ! 
that will not do. The figure should be masculine. 
It is the Frost-King himself, who, having powdered 

52 ** (9 Rome, My Country!'^ 

the earth and stiffened the streams, lies resting him- 
self after his labors. May he forget to rise to-mor- 
row morning ! We had not lost the snow-peaks be- 
fore we began to approach the Apennines. At last 
they bade us good-bye for the winter and passed from 
our sight, and we crept along the spurs of the Apen- 
nines. They are beautifully broken, though appear- 
ing from Milan like a long straight line of unbroken 
elevations. The country near Genoa is beautifully 
undulating, and the hills crowned with noble fortifi- 
cations. As soon as v/e had passed the great tunnel 
through the Apennines and issued on their southern 
side, we felt a change in the temperature. Just be- 
fore we reached the town, we had the first view of 
the Mediterranean. Soon after, we had arrived at 
" La Superba," and were driven to the Hotel de la 
Ville, on the quay. 

This struck us as more absurd than any hotel we 
have been in yet. We entered by a most extraor- 
dinary cellar-like arrangement, under the queerest 
and ugliest old arches that we have yet encountered. 
On one side the entrance is the stable, and on the 
other a blacksmith's shop, the noise whereof is inces- 
sant and absurd. And the old Vulcans — there they 
are penned up in this little corner of an old palace, 
going as hard as they can go. A little further on, 
under the same arches, is a great kitchen, where vast 
cauldrons of soup are always simmering, and an im- 
mense pasty, large enough to feed the ship's com- 
pany of a man-of-war, is displayed, to tempt Jack 
Tar and his friends. 

Thursday y November 22d, There never was any- 

*' O Romey My Country / " 53 

thing queerer than the street we live on ; and the 
people are all alive too. Long trains of donkeys, 
each with a basket on his nose and a bunch of bags 
on his back ; groups of men talking and gesticulat- 
ing ; ladies with a scarf of clear white muslin pinned 
upon the head ; servants with the same shaped head- 
dress, but in bright calicoes, whereon are depicted 
birds and beasts, flowers and fruits, and objects gen- 
erally; unfortunate chickens surveying the prospect 
from baskets carried on men's heads. Such slow, 
poky, good-natured, noisy, gesticulating, gaping, thor- 
oughly lazy people I never saw as those we see in 
the streets. They are out of doors all the time. 
They are moving about, but such motion. The hour- 
hand of a clock is faster. 

Monday y November 26th, It is still too unpleasant 
for us to venture out to sea, and we are still ruining 
ourselves and making the shopkeepers happy in 
Genoa. We have been able to take one walk, with- 
out which I feel that I should have known nothing 
of the beauty of the town. We went up to the 
entrance of the Marquis di Negro's grounds. They 
are built up like a fortification, and exquisitely laid 
out. I wish I could have a picture of the scene we 
saw from them : the heights on which Genoa is built ; 
the Apennines soft and hazy, and some of them just 
powdered with snow ; the moles, each with its light- 
house — the one which winks at us all night standing 
high and proud on a great ledge of rocks ; Genoa, 
with her palaces, towers, arches, terraces ; the harbor, 
with its dismasted or sailless ships clinging close to 
the shore ; the blue Mediterranean frolicking wildly 

54 " ^ RomCy My Country / " 

in the distance and tossing about a solitary sail, and 
trying its strength against the sturdy walls of the light- 
house. The infinite variety of the architecture is so 
interesting and so novel. The gardens up in the third 
story, the long lines of arches, the courts, the statues, 
the frescoes, the bridges over streets, the^ stairs lead- 
ing up the hill, the roofs made promenades, the thou- 
sand bits of light and shade and warmth of coloring 
and coolness of architecture are enchanting. And the 
people help to set it all off — they are so funny, and 
their ways so absurd to us. The caps the men wear, 
of plain red or blue, or the shopkeepers, of black 
velvet embroidered in bright colors ; the veils of 
which I have spoken ; the everlasting jabbering and 
gesticulating ; the doing of everything in the open 
air. Not one of the little shops on the quay has a 
window ; the whole front is open all day and boarded 
up at night. The women carry about a little affair, 
about the shape and size of a slop-bowl on a tea-tray. 
It has a handle over the top, and constitutes their 
stove. Sometimes it sits upon them, and sometimes 
they sit upon it ; sometimes it warms their hands, 
and sometimes their feet. The waiters in this hotel 
have a copper pan, like a deep frying-pan without a 
handle, around which they sit and doze in the even- 
ings. They do not mind the smell of the charcoal 
at all. In the stores, one of these is on the counter, 
and the inevitable cat has a station beside it. Be- 
sides the basket-nosed and parrot-toed donkeys (for 
their shoes project in the most absurd way, remind- 
ing one of gigantic parrot's claws), there is under our 
arches a great scurrying of men, with baskets on 

"(9 Rome, My Country T' 55 

their heads, who are forever shouting good-humoredly 
to you to get out of their way. The whole aspect of 
everything is very odd, and I wish I could take some 
of my friends at home on the walks we have taken. 

November 2%th, We were much interested in a gen- 
tleman and three young Garibaldians, his son and two 
nephews, who breakfasted with us. Of the young 
creatures it might almost be said that their mother's 
milk was still warm upon their lips. They wore the 
Garibaldi red shirt and necktie, blue pants, and broad, 
blue belt, checked lilac-and-white undershirt. They 
were beautiful, bright, beardless boys, evidently full 
of life and hope, and gentle and modest as women. 
Of such stuff* as this — this father and these children — 
is Garibaldi's army constituted. Such lovely boys as 
these lie stiff" and stark under their own native sky, 
after every battle with the hated foreigner. And 
their mothers, their poor mothers, send them and 
watch and wait and pray for their return. These go 
home to their mother's embrace ; but, alas ! how many 
mothers in Italy to-day raise their empty arms to heav- 
en against the tyrant ! It is five months since these 
children have been home. One of them was wounded, 
and all were taken prisoners. Two hundred and fifty 
such fought and resisted five thousand Austrians, and 
saved the battle for Garibaldi. The enthusiasm of 
the father is wonderful. He worships Garibaldi ! 

The party had two months of delight and hard study at 
Florence. But out of many pages of description, let us 
te content with these few lines about an afternoon in the 
Boboli Gardens : 

56 " O Rome, My Country / " 

I never before had had the least idea of the extent 
and beauty of them. The great walls of verdure, 
which consist of trees allowed to grow almost to the 
natural height, and then trimmed evenly at the top ; 
the variety and beauty of the statues, the fountains, 
the terraces, the arches, the views from the hills, 
make it enchanting. Some of the ancient statuary 
is very beautiful, and some of the modern quite vies 
with it. I remember the group of a man pressing the 
juice of grapes into an enormous tub which a little 
boy is trying to lift. There is a lake containing an 
island, all artificial and surrounded by statues. Some 
of these are very odd, and are contrived with water- 
pipes so that they can be made to play as fountains. 
Many of the walks are cut through arches of foliage, 
and, as you look up through the long, green vista, 
you see a statue at the end. And from the hill-tops, 
what views ! Only to look down on the grounds 
themselves, where amphitheatre extends beyond am- 
phitheatre, and walk succeeds walk, and one arched 
vista leads into another, and statues and pyramids 
and fountains come out anew at every turn ! On a 
hill, just back of the palace, we looked down on the 
Pitti, with its three sides, its grounds, its fountain 
and statues, the Egj^ptian obelisk, a rockery not far 
from the palace, and walls of verdure that would fain 
inclose it and us, but beyond which still stretch in 
every direction enchanting walks and lovely views, 
luring us on. And on we went, and were entrapped 
at last by a " cove,** who conducted us up to the old 
w^alls, at which we looked, as they did at us, but up to 
which no steps lead. Finally the uomo presented a 

"(9 Rome, My Country!'^ 57 

ladder, up which we gathered courage to mount in 
turn, and surveyed the prospect. It was worth 
mounting even the rounds of a ladder. Florence on 
both sides of the river, with her bridges and her build- 
ings rising from the plain ; Fiesole leaving her to 
climb the hill ; the Cathedral, and the tall, sky-pier- 
cing Campanile, with the modest Baptistery just show- 
ing its head ; about us this exquisite garden and 
these walls of greenery ; beyond, the rugged Apen- 
nines, purpled by the glory of departing day ; and 
the more distant mountains with their old white 
heads lifted so far above us. We all confess that we 
have, as yet, seen nothing at all approaching to these 
grounds in beauty, extent, or variety of scenery. 

It is reluctantly enough that we leave Florence, the 
scene, as it was to be, of some of Mrs. Gould's best chari- 
table labors, with such scanty extracts from the many pages 
of intelligent, enthusiastic description that are found in this 
part of her journal. The pleasant society that welcomed 
her there, the picturesque beauty and historic dignity of the 
city, the glory of its architecture, the boundless treasures 
of art in the great galleries, and (not the least) the relig- 
ious comfort which she found in the worship and fellow- 
ship of the Italian Protestant Church, made these two 
months at Florence a delightful part of a happy life. But, 
after all, it was not home, and we may rightly be, as she 
began to be, impatient to push forward to her " city of 

They bade a reluctant, and not at all a final farewell to 

Florence early in the morning of January 30th, for Rome 

58 " (9 Rome, My Country / " 

by way of Siena. The most interesting part of the story 
of this trip is the latter part, describing the drive from 
Siena to Rome. 

Siena showed beautifully as we drove away from 
it, and it rose upon its hill sending its towers and walls 
and roofs heavenward, with its campaniles shining 
white in the sunlight. We had a delightful journey. 
It is true the hills are barren, but the valleys and 
fields smile with verdure and cultivation, and the 
hills as they stretched in the distance were made 
glorious by the bright tints of a cloudless day. There 
were many towers crowning the heights, reminding 
us of Rhine scenery, and old tales and old songs. 
The architecture to-day is different from the dark, 
solid Florentine architecture; it is so much less mass- 
ive, so straggling — a wall running in one direction 
and then starting up into a tower, and then running 
down in another direction and producing a shed, and 
turning and twisting and throwing up points and 
peaks at its own sweet will. The mulberry orchards 
seemed endless ; the olives shaded off" the slopes ; 
the vines gave promise for the year. But the hills 
were the charm — a sea of hills; hills of chalk and 
clay hills ; hills of green and purple hills ; billows on 
billows of green hills, and farther away the gray hills, 
all surging around us as if the world was one ocean 
of newly created land, not yet settled in its appointed 

Rome, February 4th, We reached the Eternal City 
about half-past four o'clock on Saturday afternoon. 
James walked out on the Campagna to meet us, and 

"(9 Rome, My Country T^ 59 

we were all in a great excitement. St. Peter's had 
been visible for some time, its great dome swelling 
like a huge bubble in the gray atmosphere. Then 
we saw the castle of Sant' Angelo, and after awhile 
the city dimly showed itself. Those who had been 
there before were very busy pointing out to us ver- 
dant ones the various objects of interest that were in 

sight I am so excited at really reaching Rome 

that I sleep very little, and when I do, am visiting old 
ruins in my sleep. I have been once to St. Peter's 
just to get a general view of it, and have wandered 
among the ruins of the Coliseum, the Forum, and the 
triumphal arches and temples which cluster so closely 
together on and near the Aventine, Capitoline, and 
Coelian hills. It is in vain to try to describe, as yet, 
these magnificent sights. 

In Rome Dr. Gould recommenced the practice of his 
profession; and this city was the home of himself and 
wife for fifteen years ; the summers (during which Rome 
is deserted by all foreigners and by such of her own peo- 
ple as are able to leave) being spent either in travel, or in 
the hills near Rome and Florence. 




£vtl Days at Rome—Literature ^ Art^ and Society 
— yournal at Rome — A Wealthy Madonna — 
Churches and Ruins^The Cardinal and the 
Lambs at St. Agnes' — Feet~washings — St, Peter^s 
Illuminated^Excursions : r. To Subiaco and its 
Convent : 2. To Valombrosa : 3, To the Painted 
Tomb of Veii, 

;^ELIGHTFUL Bengal, who, alone of commenta- 
^J tors, knows how to say nothing where nothing is 
. necessary and to stop when he has got through, 
gives us to understand that we are apt to put a mistaken 
interpretation on that text, " See that ye walk circumspectly, 
not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days 
are evil." Instead of an exhortation to activity, it is rather 
a dissuasive from too much eagerness to work in unfavor- 
able times, and a counsel to manage circumspectly, that 
is, with a regard to circumstances,' and let work wait, some- 
times, for better and more hopeful days. 

Thus Mrs. Gould, finding herself placed, at Rome, in 
evil days — the wretchedly evil days just before the eman- 
cipation of the city, while the Papal Government was fast 

Redeeming the Time. 6i 


filling up the measure of its iniquities — "redeemed the 
time." On the side of the oppressor there was power — 
the power of French bayonets and cannon. But on the 
side of the oppressed there was omnipotence, slowly pre- 
paring the complete and hopeless overthrow of the tyranny. 
" He that believeth shall not make haste." 

Accordingly she worked with her might at what her 
hand found to do, not at things which she did not find. 
No ambitious ochool-girl ever worked harder at her les- 
sons than Mrs. Gould did to get the utmost of personal 
culture from the peculiar opportunities that surrounded 
her. Her endbss note-books, written always with beauti- 
ful penmanship, and in a literary style which (for such 
rough work, intended only for her ov/n eye) is astonish- 
ingly correct and even elegant, are filled with descrip- 
tions of objects of nature and art, and monuments of his- 
tory, and with careful analyses of books of archaeology 
and art-criticism ; also with plans and rough drafts of 
tales and magazine articles, some of which were afterward 
published, from time to time. At the same time she came 
to be a leader in the foreign society of Rome and Florence, 
especially the American and English society; and the 
grace and wit of her conversation kept winning friends to 
her that were invaluable afterward when the evil davs 
were past, and the happy days come when she had great 
burdens of charitable work to bear, and needed friends to 
help her. At Rome, in the earlier days, there was com- 
paratively little that she could do of Christian work, ex- 
cept in the circle of her American and English friends. 

62 Redeeming the Time. 

There was a little American church within the walls, that 
dated from as far back as the Republic of '48, and which 
was the center of a beautiful fellowship for all Christian 
people and ministers, until by and by it was placed on an 
exclusive footing. Among the worshipers at this church, 
and among the sick strangers whom her husband's pro- 
fession brought to her knowledge, were opportunities of a 
Christian woman's ministry which were not neglected. 
Also in her many personal relations with Italians, both 
of high rank and of low, there was a growing influence, 
the value of which was beautifully to manifest itself by 
and by. But for the present " the days were evil," and in 
her active studies and enthusiastic enjoyment in nature, 
art, history, and society, and such comparatively indiffer- 
ent matters, Mrs. Gould was "gaining the time"* for 
the distinctively charitable and religious work which she 
loved, and the zeal of which finally consumed her. In 
her journals and ordinary letters she certainly does not 
appear at all as the typical heroine of religious biography. 
There are almost no reflections recorded on her spiritual 
condition. In fact, there are almost no reflections on 
herself at all. The absence of them, her whole life long, 
is remarkable and delightful. It might save us the effort 
of making our own estimate of her if we could transcribe 
from time to time some pages of self-examination and self- 
estimate. But self-examination (in the prevailing sense ot 

♦ When Nebuchadnezzar says to the Chaldeans (Dan. ii. 8), " 1 know that ye 
would ^a/« the timey'* the literal translation (see margin) is " buy the time," and 
the Greek word used in the Septuagint version is the same that In Ephesians v. i6 
is translated, " redeem the time.'* See Bengel in loc. 

Redeeming the Time. (^'^ 

the word) was not her habitual way of serving God. Let 
the absence of quotable talk about herself be judged ac- 
cording to each reader's judgment, whether favorably or 
unfavorably. It is a fact, and too characteristic a fact not 
to be noted. 

This is a censorious world; and when seriously and 
earnestly conscientious people allow themselves to over- 
step the boundary-line of duty, probably it is as often on 
the side of censoriousness as on any other — this sin does 
look so much like some of the most respectable virtues, 
and, judiciously indulged, gives a pleasant thrill of self- 
esteem that seems almost like the satisfaction of a good 
conscience. I can not but think how easily some who 
regarded Mrs. Gould's manner of life from the outside, 
and marked her vivacity and brilliancy in society, and her 
keen enjoyment of the infinitely varied delights of life in 
Rome, may have been led to lament over her as a frivolous 
and worldly person, with no appreciation of the great end 
of life. But it would have been a mistake. 

It is not impossible to construct an agreeable addition 
to the literature of the Grand Tour out of Mrs. Gould's 
journals. But that is not the object of this volume, and 
a very few pages, taken almost at random, suffice to give 
an idea of the course of her life at Rome. 

.... On New Year's Day we received about 
twenty-five calls, and the evening we spent very 
pleasantly at Mr. E.*s. Since then we have done no 
sight-seeing, and have been as dissipated as possible. 
We have spent every evening out. I am taking Italian 

64 Redeeming the Time, 

lessons twice a week. The weather has been cold, 
so that we have kept away from the galleries. We 
are reading a good deal. I hope to do some sight- 
seeing next week and get up my journal, which is 
much neglected. The Church of St. Agostino, which 
we have lately seen, has some fine works of art, but 
we could not examine them because the church is 
under repairs. We visited, however, the famous Ma- 
donna by Jacopo da Sansovino, which is a respectable 
work of art. But it is not its merit as a work of art 
that makes it famous now. Like the Bambino of 
the Ara Coeli, it is a " medical person," and its fees 
have enriched it to such a degree that it is the envy 
of all its brother practitioners. The figure is per- 
fectly covered with jewelry ; the neck being encircled 
with many strings of pearls, the breast blazing with 
diamonds ; a diamond frontlet sparkles upon its brow ; 
its coronet is set thick with jewels ; there are diamond 
rings upon its fingers, three diamond earrings in each 
ear, bracelets all the way up its arms, etc. The child 
has three watches on one of its feet, and is equally 
covered with gems. Beside the altar, and upon the 
nearest piers, are cases such as we see in the jewelers* 
stores, which are filled with jewelry of every descrip- 
tion. There are literally hundreds, and I am not 
sure that there are not thousands, of rings, pins, 
bracelets, necklaces, etc., etc. By the way, I do not 
know how this Madonna came to be miraculous, as 
St. Luke seems to have had nothing to do with get- 
ting her up. The Bambino is a foundling, which was 
dropped at the convent door one night, and has been 
very well cared for by the good friars. An angel 

Redeeming the Time. 65 

brought it down, rang the bell of the convent, and 
then went home again 

Monday y Jan, 6th, Started for a walk in the direc- 
tion of the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. 
The church was not open, and I wandered about the 
ruins of these wonderful Baths of Diocletian. It 
seems almost a shame to call these or the vast build- 
ings of Caracalla by the name of baths. There was 
so much that was splendid beside the mere halls for 
bathing. There is among these ruins another cella^ 
or whatever one chooses to call a building such as 
that which Michael Angelo turned into a church. 
There are also immense arches, great piers of 
brick-work, and a semicircular theatre (?) of great 
5ize. The pile actually covefed an area a mile in 
circuit. It is now applied to the basest uses ; but 
there is something left of its original nobleness even 
in its decay. Flowers and moss climb and cling to 
its rugged sides, which still tower above the pigmy 
buildings constructed in its inclosure 

We have seen beautiful frescoes at the Church of 
St. Andrea della Valle, The four evangelists, though 
not Domenichino*s happiest efforts, are not unworthy 
of him. The choir is adorned with frescoes repre- 
senting the life and death of St. Andrew, powerfully 
rendered. This church occupies the site of the an- 
cient Curia ; on this spot great Caesar fell. Before I 
forget it, I must mention that we came upon a new 
ruin in our peregrinations to-day — that of the old 
theatre of Balbus. It was little— only two great tow- 
ering and projecting masses of brick-work — but we 
delightqd to find it, and then by the map and Mur- 

66 Redeeming the Time. 

ray to study out its history. But Rome is full of 
little and big bits of antiquity which burst upon the 
sight of the traveler at almost every turn. Now it 
is a mass of ancient masonry ; at another corner is a 
huge marble foot, left by the great body to which it 
belonged in the flight of the latter. Now it is a re- 
cumbent figure almost smoothed by time ; now it is 
a marble basin, part of an ancient fountain, and not 
yet forsaken by the water. Now it is an exquisitely 
sculptured doorway ; anon, a column beautifully dec- 
orated, supporting a modern dirty brick wall ; again 
it is bits of bas-relief, heads, arms, legs, and inscrip- 
tions, dug up and transferred to the front of a house. 
.... The drive to the Church of St. Agnes with- 
out the walls is pleasant, like all the drives outside 
the gates of Rome. We visited the church last year, 
but it is well worth more than one visit. It is said 
to have been built by Constantine at the request of 
his daughter, on the spot where the body of the saint 
was found. It is completely subterranean, so that it 
is reached by descending several flights of marble 
steps. In the walls of this staircase are imbedded 
inscriptions taken from the ancient cemetery. These 
are like those from the catacombs which adorn the 

walls of the Vatican gallery The services were 

of the usual style. I had a position which enabled 
me to witness them to the best advantage. The bal- 
dacchino was wreathed with flowers ; and the statue 
of St. Agnes was placed upon the altar, and appeared 
to divide the adoration v/ith the officiating cardinal. 
This latter entered in plain garments, and was dressed 
at the altar even to his dark violet gloves with the 

Redeeming the Time. 67 

ring on the outside. Then after a while he was all 
undressed again, and such an amount of hand-wash- 
ing, donning of aprons, kissing the altar, the cardi- 
nal's ring, silver plates, napkins and books, I never 
saw before. Then the cardinal kissed the bishop, 
and the bishop the deacon, who flew and embraced a 
priestling, whereupon each priestling embraced his 
neighbor. As soon as mass was ended, the lambs 
were brought on. The little creatures had been 
washed with the greatest care, so that their fleece 
was as white as the driven snow. This was tied up 
with little knots of red ribbon about half an inch 
apart, and a garland of roses was placed on the head. 
They were, of course, tied, and were laid each on a 
crimson cushion. It was really a very pretty sight. 
The cardinal and the lambs now held an argument. 
The cardinal bowed and kissed the altar. " Ba ! " said 
the lamb. " Oremus,'' said the cardinal. " Ba-a ! '* 
said the lamb. The cardinal referred the matter to 
St. Agnes herself. " Ba-a-a ! " said the lamb. The 
cardinal shook what appeared to be a rattle at the 
lamb. " Ba-a-a-a ! '' replied the insulted quadruped. 
The cardinal tried incensing his opponent. " Ba-a-a- 
a-a ! " said the Iamb. Then the cardinal, as a last 
resort, fell to blessing the lamb and consigning his 
wool to the making of pontifical vestments forever. 
" Ba-a-a-a-a-a ! ! ! *' said the lamb. And the cardinal 
gave it up, and let the lamb have it all his own way ; 
and we went on to the Church of St. Constantia. 

Out of many pages descriptive of the ceremonies and 
festivities of Holy Week we select a few. The washing 

68 Redeeming the Time, 


of the feet of poor pilgrims by Roman ladies of rank, is 
one of the sights which strangers are sometimes invited 
to witness. 

We entered a room with clean brick floors furnished 
with chairs and benches, and hung with small com- 
mon prints and crosses. Here we could look into a 
long dining-room with the tables spread with a not 
over-nice table-cloth, and set with plates, pitchers, 
bowls, and napkins. After we had reached the gate 
which shut off the dining-room, it was opened, and 
we swept down-stairs. And now we entered a small, 
low room with seats against the walls, on which sat 
the women, beggars from the Campagna, unwas^ied, 
uncombed, each with her feet in a tub of water. Be- 
fore each stood a Sorella in her uniform, consisting 
of a full apron of Turkey red with a full front and 
straps crossing behind, and a little white pinafore 
over this. Underneath were magnificent silks and 
velvet trimmings ; diamonds sparkled in the ears ; 
gold daggers stabbed the elegantly dressed hair, and 
rich laces peeped from beneath the garb of humility. 
The cardinal and his satellites spoke. Beggar and 
princess made the sign of the cross, and the scrub- 
bing began. It was too much. Such blackness of 
darkness and such odors ! We rushed up-stairs. Our 
party had been kindly taken in charge by one of the 

sorellCy who is a Princess B , who chatted with us 

most pleasantly, and finally led us to the dormitory, 
a long room containing more than a hundred com- 
fortable beds. I thought how sweetly the poor 
things would sleep, some of v/hom, as the principessa 

Redeeming the Time. 69 

told us, had never slept in a bed before. We got 
back to the refectory in time to see the soup brought 
on. Already plates of fish, great quantities of bread, 
plates of salad and fruit had been set forth. The 
pitchers were filled with wine. The Countess Al- 
tieri presided at the soup tureen, and a long line of 
sorelle was formed, who passed the bowls of soup 
from hand to hand. Meanwhile the pilgrims came 
up and were placed at table. Grace was said and the 
sign of the cross made, and then the repast began. 
I scarcely ever enjoyed one more. To see the poor 
creatures take in the soup, put out their tongues and 
lap it, to sfee their eager looks, their great, dark eyes 
brighten, their pure enjoyment, was a perfect feast. 
How they did eat, and also how they did drink ! 
The wine was poured into little bowls, and they emp- 
tied one at a draught, without once stopping to swal- 
low. They were generally young or middle-aged ; 
some were children, and one was a pretty little black- 
eyed baby — a dear little dirty thing, the perfect pic- 
ture of comfort. The fragments were made up into 
bundles for them, and when all had finished, the 
young girls formed a line in the passage leading to 
the dormitory, and sang a litany while the pilgrims 
passed through and went to their comfortable beds. 

We skip the full and interesting account of the Easter 
ceremonies in St. Peter's Church, and come to the descrip 
tion of the illumination of St. Peter*s. Perhaps it has 
never been better described than in these private pages. 

We saw it most advantageously ; first from the 

yo Redeeming the Time, 

Piazza, where it showed best, I thought ; then going 
to Mr. Rogers*, where we stopped for a few minutes 
to take a dish of tea and another of gossip, and to 
look from their windows and balcony; and finally 
from the Pincio, where it seemed like a new creation, 
or an unveiling of some of the splendors of heaven. 
It would be impossible to give a description of this 
gorgeous scene that could convey to one who had not 
seen it even a faint idea of its glories. The church is 
so illuminated as to resemble a church of fire : the pi- 
lasters, capitals, frieze, all distinctly marked out. The 
cross points upward, a faint cross of silver. The sil- 
vered lantern surmounts a dome whose lines are of 
shining silver, and between these lines are glimmer- 
ing crowns of pale beauty. To this beautiful struct- 
ure conduct two lines of light suspended from the 
colonnade. The shadows that fall rich and full from 
the splendid columns, from the great galleries, from the 
doors and all the unilluminated parts of the church 
and its surroundings make the light the more beauti- 
ful and brilliant. The Piazza is crowded with car- 
riages and spectators on foot. The band plays en- 
livening music. Bells ring and guns are fired, and 
everything seems to enhance the charms of the spec- 
tacle. But long before we are wearied with gazing, 
a ball of fire is seen on the summit of the dome ; it 
mounts to the top of the cross, and presto ! thousands 
of flames burst from lantern and dome, capital and 
pilaster, bell-tower and window. The facade, the 
colonnade, are burning with brightness. The statues 
start in an instant into full view like armed men. 
The long lines stream down the church and into the 

Redeeming the Time. 71 

Piazza. The pillars cast long shadows and long 
streams of light beside them. The enchantment is 
complete. There never was anything lovelier than 
the appearance of the dome. Each crown was sur- 
rounded with lines of gold that flashed most glori- 
ously, paling the silver, lights, it is true, but by no 
means extinguishing them ; and the whole dome was 
like a great illuminated globe set in the heavens and 
shining sharp and full against the clear blue sky. The 
city for a long distance caught and reflected the glo- 
rious light. The absence of the moon made it all the 
more splendid — the brightness streaming full and 
clear from the great basilica, and where it died away 
the night lay dark and deep. 

To this period belongs some of the best of Mrs. Gould's 
literary work. A series of six articles in " Hours at Home," 
entitled "Rambles among the Italian Hills,*' is so nearly 
of the nature of autobiography that it is right to quote at 
length some passages relating to the less common excur- 
sions from Rome and Florence. 

The first describes an excursion by Tivoli and Vico 
Varo (shrine of a famous winking Madonna) to a convent 
of St. Benedict on a cliff in the Apennines. The first halt 
was at Vico Varo, in an extraordinary inn, the appearance 
of which inspired no confidence in the cook; " so I called 
for eggs and wine and speedily manufactured a concoction 
which made the rest of the party extremely ill, while I slept 
placidly until they recovered." 

As the shades of the afternoon were beginning to 

72 Redeeming the Time, 

fall, we left Vico Varo, and wound down the hill to- 
ward the Anio. How lovely were the scenes ! The 
hill we descended is crowned by the white walls of 
the convent of Cosmiato and its church-towers, shin- 
ing pure and lovely amid surrounding verdure. The 
cliff is pierced with caves and galleries. Long fingers 
of the curious travertine formation hang over them, or 
pry into their depths. Some of these are sacred places, 
sacred to the memory of Saint Benedict. Just be- 
neath the hill is a mill, with its little flume pouring 
into the river ; and rising above the latter are por- 
tions of the pier, and part of one of the arches of a 
ruined bridge, over which the feet of Baosus and his 
contemporaries passed. Our path went up and down, 
and around and about, winding at its will with the 
winding river in a way rather aggravating to people 
who are aiming at an eagle's nest on the opposite 
side of the stream and far above its waters. It is 
stony too, and unkind to tender feet, but all ablaze 
with lovely flowers that smile to win us to pluck 
them, and blush as we pass them' by in their young 
beauty. At last the road came to a sudden end by 
dipping into the river, and there was nothing for us 
to do but to follow its example and ford the stream 
too. This we accomplished without much trouble. 
And now the hill Difiiculty apparently rising above 
us, the pilgrims suspended their progress a little, to 
rest and feast upon hard-boiled eggs and dry bread. 
In this repast we were assisted by a darling little 
gipsy of a girl and her boy companion. They were 
both in costume. Little Gitana wore a short, narrow 
skirt, leathern sandals bound with thongs over the 

Redeeming the Time. "jt^ 

instep, a white chemise gathered into the throat, and 
made with long sleeves, a blue bodice into which was 
thrust her painted distaff, and a heavy yellow and 
white woolen head-dress, laid upon the head so as to 
hang in folds behind and at the sides. When we 
arose to go up the mountain, we hade her good-bye. 
But she rose too, and calling ** Sta ! Sta ! " prepared 
to accompany us. In answer to her call, there came 
rushing tumultuously up the other side of the slope 
a little black pig. He and his little mistress were 
evidently on the very best of terms, for he put up 
his head for a caress, and followed close at her heels 
like a dog. So our party was now increased by a 
most lovely little girl, and her most extraordinary 
and amusing pet. Gitana took possession of my bag 
and water-proof cloak, and put them both on her 
head without their interfering with her turning in 
every direction, gesticulating in a most animated way 
as she talked to us, and even stooping to drink at a 
fountain on the road. By and by another young girl 
joined us. Then came a man and woman driving a 
donkey loaded with sticks, a shepherd-boy with his 
flock, a drove of pigs with their guardian. Then 
came more girls, and so on until we formed a large 
procession. There were ten or fifteen young girls, 
any one of whom would have been an exquisite model 
for our artist friends in Rome. They all had the 
same distinctive characteristic features as our first 
young acquaintance. All had rich, brown complex- 
ions, rosy cheeks and lips, dark eyes, with a soupqon 
of the Eastern almond shape, long, drooping eye- 
lashes, and masses of black hair. They have a right 


74 Redeeming the Time. 

to their Eastern looks, as they are partly of Eastern 
descent. Saracenesca, the village which they inhabit, 
and where we were intending to pass the night, was 
originally settled by a colony of Saracens. In one of 
their incursions they were defeated in the plain be- 
low, and the survivors succeeded in scaling an ap- 
parently inaccessible crag. Here they were safe from 
their enemies, for no foot save that of the wild goat 
and their own could reach their place of shelter. 
After a while they and the inhabitants of the plain 
made peace with each other. The Saracens gradually 
mingled with the Italians, adopted their religion, in- 
termarried with them, and their children, retaining 
much of the wild beauty and grace of their fathers, 
still inhabit the old nest. They are a simple, honest 
people. Of the latter trait we had ample proof on 
our return to Rome. One of our party lost a ring, 
valued more from its association than from anything 
else. Of course, we never hoped to see it again, 
unless it had been dropped in the house where we 
spent the night. But the next day, a boy returning 
from his work in the valley below saw something 
glittering on the rock. It was the ring. The child 
carried it to his father, and the father at once took it 
to the priest, and the priest sent a messenger to Rome 
to return the ring to its owner. But on our journey, 
I think I was more struck with their powers of dis- 
cernment than with anything else about them. . I 
certainly met with such warm admiration that I think 
I never can be easily put down again. It is sad that 
my present residence is the palace of truth, because 
I consequently feel obliged to confess that the dress 

Redeeming the Time. 75 

received, if possible, more attention than the person. 
My new friends felt of my skirt, smoothed the em- 
broidery of my jacket, took hold of my hands to 
examine my undersleeves and gloves, and their admi- 
ration of my hat and veil was intense. As the way 
was long and weary, they offered to carry me. This, 
of course, I could not permit ; and then they pro- 
posed to unload the donkey and mount me instead 
of the sticks. But I have a great horror of all ridable 
animals, and there was neither saddle nor bridle. 
The sticks were therefore undisturbed* Finally, how- 
ever, I consented to try a decidedly ignominious 
mode of conveyance, and hang myself to the donkey's 
handle. Then the scene became too ludicrous, and 
sometimes I swung to and fro, too weak with laughter 
to be able to keep my footing, but grasping the creat- 
ure's tail with all my might, while he pulled and grunt- 
ed as if he did not seem to see it in that funny light. 
When we laughed, our friends laughed too, and the 
rocks rang again that sweet afternoon with most 
genuine mirth. 

But it did seem as if we should never arrive at our 
journey's end. We climbed, and wound, and wound 
and climbed again, and still Saracenesca calmly looked 
down upon us from an apparently inaccessible height, 
reminding one in the distance of the Tower of Babel 
as seen in the old-fashioned picture-books. It looks, 
even when one approaches quite near it, as if it must 
have been built from above, by the aid, perhaps, of a 
smart shower of meteoric stones, or, at any rate, by 
the united efforts of a colony of eagles. More 
villagers met us as we continued our journey, and 

76 Redeeming the Time. 

our little Gitana told, over and over again, the story 
of our coming down the hills, crossing the river, etc. 
Each one pressed to have a nearer view of the 
strangers, and claimed a word or a smile, while every 
word or act of theirs was a caress or a term of endear- 
ment. "Little dove!*' "Little darling!'' "Pre- 
cious one! '* etc., rolled off their tongues in their own 
soft language. Hence we view hov/ far one must 
sometimes go from home, and how long one may 
sometimes live, without being properly appreciated. 

At last we arrived at a sort o^ cordonata path, or 
Via Dolorosa, leading direct to the village. Here the 
procession paused, and arranging themselves in a 
semicircle, all crossed themselves and repeated a 
short prayer. I am sorry to say that the sweet poem 
of rural life and beauty lost a canto when we began 
to ascend into the town itself. This was so very, 
very dirty that we could think of nothing but an in- 
finite succession of piggeries. There are no streets 
in Saracenesca. A certain portion of the living rock 
which caps the mountain is left between the houses, 
and that is all. The houses seem to consist of little 
else than four covered walls and a chimney. I was 
glad to see, the next morning, smoke issuing from 
most of the chimneys. Everybody stood outside 
the doors looking at us, and on exhibition was the 
most beautiful baby I ever saw in my life — a little 
creature of perhaps ten months old. We all had but 
one opinion on the subject. The baby had been a 
peach in the other life. The skin had the downiness 
and softness of the fruit, and the deep coloring of 
the cheeks and lips answered to that of the peach. 

Redeeming the Time. 77 

It raised its great dark eyes, with their long lashes, 
and looked as fearlessly and wonderingly at the 
strangers as if it had been a bird for the first time 
beholding a man. Well, we resigned the baby, and 
passed the groups of beautiful children, and climbed 
up, still up, the winding steep to the very summit, 
where is the abode of the priest. He came in, and 
then our friends delivered us into his hands, full of 
kind wishes, never having sought reward by word or 
look. Those who aided us were satisfied with a very 
moderate remembrance, and those who had not gave 
us just as beaming smiles and as kind good-nights as 
their more fortunate friends. The priest is a young 
man, seemingly as guileless as the flock he leads. 
His mother, and the assistant priest, who is also the 
schoolmaster, form the family. We were welcomed 
as if we were dear friends, and I had soon made 
myself at home, and undertaken an expedition into 
the kitchen. There, I went into a committee of ways 
and means with regard to our supper, of v;hich we 
stood greatly in need, made a cup of tea, and rescued 
a pigeon which was being thrown headlong into the 
pot of boiling water, and soon had the pleasure of 
seeing it revolving around a spit in front of the com- 
fortable wood fire. Presently the church-bell sounded, 
and soon after, the sweet tones of the choristers fell 
upon our ears. By this time it was entirely dark, and 
when we entered the church, the scene was very im- 
pressive. The only light was that of the candles of 
the chapel, at whose altar the assistant priest was 
kneeling. The priest had gone into the choir, to 
lead the music himselif, and the responses came up 

^ I 

78 Redeeming the Time, 

chanted in the wild tones of the villagers, the com- 
panions of our journey, who were kneeling on the 
floor of the church. The services closed by a prayer, 
written in Italian, in a simple style, suited to the 
understanding of the worshipers, begging for a bless- 
ing on their labors in the Campagna that day, and 
for protection during the night. Then the congre- 
gation arose, crossed themselves, and silently left the 
church. I never attended a Catholic service where 
there seemed so much simplicity and sincerity. And 
now came our supper, which was excellent. We 
made a beaten-up ^^^ do the part of milk in the 
tea, for they never have any milk or butter in 
these little villages. And as this was the Pilgrim's 
Progress, I felt as if conducted to a fair chamber 
called Peace when the priest's mother and the maid 
conducted me to my room, and lavished every pos- 
sible kindness and attention upon me. The stillness 
of night hushed us to sleep, which lasted until a little 
before day. Then the sweet tones of the church-bell, 
repeated and deepened by the echoes of the mount- 
ain, fell upon the ear. A second peal was soon fol- 
lowed by the voices of the choristers at their early 
morning worship. These hushed, I fell asleep again, 
and long before we had breakfasted, the simple vil- 
lagers had wound down the steep to their labor in 
the valley below. 

At last, the time came for us to start again on our 
journey. The priest first took us up to the fortress, 
whence the view is decidedly Swiss. We are among 
the very highest of this spur of the Apennines, 
twenty-five hundred feet above the river, and the 

Redeeming the Time, 79 

Campagna with its hills lies at our feet. We took a 
bird's-eye view of it, and then bade our kind hosts 
farewell. In villages where there is no inn, it is cus- 
tomary to be received at the house of the priest, and 
on leaving to give them a family donation of the 
same amount as the bill at a country inn. This we 
understood, and I believe satisfied our entertainers 
fully, who wished us God-speed very heartily as we 
left them. 

A council of war had been held, and a donkey 
taken for me ; but as there was no woman's saddle, I 
handed it over to the gentlemen, and proceeded on 
foot to our first resting-place. This was at Antigone, 
which we reached by a very sweet walk. Here we 
clambered again up step and steep to procure a 
breakfast. This was promised us at the house of the 
doctor, and we were invited to walk into the doctor's 
parlor. It is not improper to state that the furniture 
of this saloon was slightly unique. A large collection 
of logs stood in one corner of the room. The center- 
table was adorned with a straw bed, and other extra- 
ordinary articles were to be found in extraordinary 
places. But the doctor received us with great hospi- 
tality, even sacrificing in our honor the life of one of 
his oldest friends. The principal dish on the table 
was a very ancient and venerable cock, who was 
served up comb and all. He had been cooked, but 
he positively refused to be carved, and of course de- 
clined to be eaten. However, we had good bread 
and ricolta, with Bologna sausage, and, hungry as we 
were, it was angels' food. The doctor had the good- 
ness, also, in addition to the bird's comb, to present 

8o Redeeming the Time. 

us with his bill, which being attended to, the cloaks 
and coats of the party were put upon the donkey. I 
mounted thereon, and collaring the unhappy guide 
with both hands, rode in triumph out of Antigone. 

My donkey was a young one, and foolishness was 
bound up in his heart. It was very difficult to keep 
him in the path, and he entered into earnest conver- 
sation with his brethren at work in the distant fields, 
trying to carry me off for a frolic with them, and 
rubbing his nose coaxingly against his master for per- 
mission to go. Still, on the whole, we had a charm- 
ing ride, and before we reached Subiaco, the beauty 
of the scenery was greatly enhanced. We had the 
same cultivation — the great fields of grain, the vine- 
yards, the blooming hedges, the olive-groves on the 
hill-sides. In addition to all this, we had the village 
of Subiaco stretching up the hill, and churches and 
convents still higher on the slopes hung above the 
town, from whose towers the Ave Maria, repeated 
from one chime to another, was sounding in our ears. 
We have been greatly saddened to-day, however, by 
the poverty of the people whom we have met, and 
this in the midst of a land smiling like the Garden of 
Eden. Little children, bending under the loads of 
sticks they were carrying on their heads ; women with 
scarcely a vestige of womanhood to be seen about 
them ; men sickly and pale for the want of good 
food, toiling for a mere subsistence. As we ap- 
proached Antigone, a miserable acolyte came out of 
a little chapel by the roadside, and begged. He was 
still a young man, but all youth and life seemed 
crushed out of him. He was dressed in a coarse, 

Redeeming the Time, 8i 

black cotton gown, and his face and hands were only 
one degree less black than his dress. His whole ap- 
pearance was like one who had never eaten a good 
meal, or been washed, or smiled, or been smiled upon 
in all his miserable life. God help the poor sheep 
wandering over these hills, for surely the shepherds 
act the wolfs part ! . . . . 

The convent of San Benedetto, to which we 
climbed next morning, is one of those strange, wild, 
beautiful, fanciful creations never seen out of Italy, 
and almost impossible to describe. It is said that Saint 
Benedict retired to a cave in the travertine cliff over- 
hanging the town when a boy of fourteen. So se- 
cluded was he from the world that his food was let 
down to him in a basket, while he spent his time in 
meditation and prayer, and was, I hope, careful to 
offer an occasional thanksgiving that he had not yet 
become mad. Over and under and around his dwell- 
ing, the series of chapels we visited has been erected 
with consummate skill and taste, and with them a 
convent is connected. I never realized more fully the 
piety of many of the painters of the middle ages 
than I did while examining the frescoes with which 
the chapels are decorated. In those early days, good 
men painted a religious picture as one now writes a 
religious book, mingling prayers with their labors, 
and leaving behind them, as in this instance, the 
sweet impress of their sweet spirits. Did one wish to 
soften the heart encased in selfishness and worldli- 
ness.'^ He brought before the eye the picture of the 
Man of Sorrows. He painted the cruel mocking and 
scourging, the shame and agony of the cross. He 

82 Redeeming the Time. 

depicted the brow contracted with anguish, the lips 
saying, " Father, forgive them," the bowed head, and 
the dead Christ. Was there a Rachel weeping for 
her children, who would not be comforted because 
they were not ? He bade her look upon that most 
loving and most sorrowing mother, who unclasped 
her tender arms from about her babe that he might 
go forth to a life of toil and pain, and a death of 
agony. He bade her be strong in faith as he held 
before her that mother and Son meeting again in 
glory, with no pain, nor sorrow, nor parting for them 
more. Were there lambs of the flock whose tender 
feet were wounded as they essayed to tread the nar- 
row path? He showed them the Good Shepherd, 
ever going before them and leading them, and ready 
to gather them in his arms, and in his own time re- 
ceive them into his bosom. He preached patience 
under trial here as he dipped his pencil in gold and 
brilliant colors, and painted the New Jerusalem. He 
opened its gates before them, and they beheld its 
beauty. He showed them the tree of life, and re- 
minded them that they should eat of its fruits and 
rest beneath its shadow. To those bereft of human 
sympathy, he brought to view the innumerable com- 
pany and church of the first-born. He showed them 


the patriarchs and prophets of old. He bade them 
look upon and listen to the beloved and loving dis- 
ciple ; and if he comforted maid and matron with the 
thought that the gentle Agnes or the lovely Cecilia 
ministered to them on earth or prayed for them in 
heaven, it was a pardonable error. But error, how- 
ever small and venial at first, will grow, and strengthen- 

Redeeming the Time. 83 

as it grows. Like a weed, graceful and pretty, 
charming the eye with its bright coloring, and per- 
haps refreshing the senses with its odor, it increases 
its strength and size, and finally crushes out the good 
seed, takes its place, and flaunts its ugly stalk and 
poisonous fruit as the true harvest. 

I am fully aware that I am not describing the 
church of San Benedetto all this time, and perhaps I 
may as well admit that I shall not be able to do so 
by direct attack. The lower chapel, in which the 
saint lived, has been left as it was, and is merely a 
strange weird grotto in the travertine cliff. Up and 
down the stairs leading to this, the peasants were 
continually passing. It is a scala santa, and so they 
mounted it upon their knees. Above this chapel is 
another, from which you look down upon the others. 
It is beautifully adorned with frescoes, and lighted by 
a single painted window, representing San Benedetto 
in the dress of his order. Beside the scala santa is 
another grotto in the travertine. In this is a statue 
of the saint at prayer, and the basket from which he 
was fed is to be seen near him. Opposite this is the 
choir, where service is generally held, but closed this 
festa day, when the other chapels are open. In short, 
San Benedetto seemed to me a great kaleidoscope, 
full of sweet, strange, variable pictures ; and now 
they waver and dance before my eye, and will not be 
fixed upon paper. 

The next excursion is from Florence to the famous 
Benedictine monastery of Miltonic Valombrosa. 

I think I do not particularly object to cooking. I 

84 Redeeming the Time, 

have had some little experience in the divine art, and 
it was rather pleasant. I shall never forget my first 
attempt. It was at broiling a mackerel for my father 
one dreadful day when we were moving, and every- 
body else was at the old house, and I at the new. How 
I labored over that fish ! I washed him as carefully 
as if he had been a baby, and laid him daintily on 
the gridiron. Then he spluttered, and I buttered 
him fiercely, and turned him over. Then he frizzled, 
and I buttered him again, and gave him another 
turn. Then he hissed, and I repeated the operation, 
and so we fought until I fineilly conquered, and re- 
duced him to silence and rags. When he came upon 
the table, he presented a very extraordinary appear- 
ance, I must confess ; but my father looked at him 
with loving eyes, and declared that he had never eat- 
en a better fish in his life. Seasoned with the sauce 
of affection, he became a dainty morsel. Some others 
of the family hinted that half a pound of butter was 
rather a liberal allowance for one fish, but the resolu- 
tion was immediately laid upon the table, and my 
triumph was complete. 

And shall I ever forget a second experience, when 
I had attained to the glory of a house of my own, 
and a little misunderstanding had occurred between 
myself and one or two members of the kitchen cabi- 
net, causing a division of the house, by which I re- 
tained the small portion inside the walls for myself. 
Of course I need not mention to experienced city 
housekeepers that the same day a carriage-load of 
friends drove up to the door to make us a visit. My 
forces at the time consisted of a seamstress, who 

Redeeming the Time, 85 

knew of the kitchen but from vague hearsay, and of 
a boy who was acquainted with it only as the place 
of deposit for the crockery which he was accustomed 
to break on its descent from the dining-room. How- 
ever, our friends were met with a warm welcome, and 
the maid and myself, transmuting the youth above 
mentioned into a Gibeonite, descended into the lower 
regions. Then and there, with the aid of Mrs. Cor- 
nelius, the kindest " young housekeeper's friend " 
that ever discussed the mode of cooking a hare, did 
I perpetrate a dinner that drew down the warm enco- 
miums of our friends, and also nearly brought down 
the house, as I was gravely asked where I had pro- 
cured my cook. 

But although I do not object to cooking, I have 
my prejudices against being cooked. And one fine 
day this summer Florence was converted into an 
enormous kitchen-range, wherein everybody was 
either frying, boiling, or roasting. Our household 
envied St. Lawrence, for that we had no kind Chris- 
tian soul to turn us over when one side was done. 
So we finally decided that the bar of the gridiron 
known as the Via Maggio should know us no more 
for the present, and forthwith turned our longing 
eyes and willing feet toward the green shades of Val- 
ombrosa. With Antonio di Pelago as our charioteer, 
we were soon driving outside the Porta alia Croce, 
and hoping that the hill-sides would afford us the 
cool breezes for which we panted. Soon the envious 
walls near Florence had disappeared, and we had 
glimpses of pretty fertile country villas, and their 
olive-yards and gardens smiling upon the hills, 

86 Redeeming the Time. 

their verdure and loveliness extending to our long 
line of curving road. For the road bends and 
sweeps greatly, to follow in some degree the many 
sweeps and curves of the Arno. The workmen 
were digging clay and making brick beside its 
shrunken waters. Their costume, or rather the 
want thereof, was very remarkable. Among other 
little eccentricities, they dispense with everything in 
the shape of an upper garment, and display a charm- 
ingly well-tanned specimen of bear skin. As to the 
country people whom we passed, the superhuman 
exertions of every one of them alarmed us with the 
idea that they must surely rupture a blood-vessel be- 
fore night. Spread out at full length in their carts, 
the shafts of which were attached to the backs of 
their steeds, and the reins left at home, they were 
drawn along at the pace the steeds chose to assume. 
But when we rattled by them, they actually opened 
their eyes, and in one or two instances went so far as 
to raise their heads. 

The villages near Florence present little else to the 
eye but long ranges of wall, broken into the requisite 
number of doors and windows. But those nearer the 
end of our journey were much more pleasing ; each 
adorned with a tall slender campanile, and watched 
over by a neighborly castle. And then the luxuriant 
vegetation, the grapes struggling into ripeness, each 
bunch a fair picture in which tints of soft green and 
imperial purple struggle for the mastery — the pear- 
tree and the loaded fig ! The olive and the mulberry 
rise above the fields of grain and gardens of vegeta- 
bles, tier upon tier of fruitfulness climbing up toward 


Redeeming the Time. 87 

the loving, cloudless sky. Clematis and blackberry- 
bushes struggle all over the hedges and mingle their 
colors in pleasing variety. Before us, walling in the 
vast garden, rise the mountains of Valombrosa. They 
darken and recede as we approach them, under the 
shade of evening's gray mantle. A steep pitch, a few 
more twists and turns, and our driver bids us " Buon 
Arrivato,*' while the whole Antonine family rush out 
with lights and warm welcomes to the " Hotel del 
Buon Cuore." Here we set up our tents in the village 
of Pelago, kindly cared for by the inhabitants of the 
aforesaid "good heart." But the heart was great 
even here, and Valombrosa lay before us, its white 
convent winking in the sunlight, an invitation to 
come up higher. So we scrambled down the hill 
upon which Pelago has seated herself, crossed a small 
stream, which the thirsty sun had emptied in his 
summer travels, and commenced our climb of the 
heights above us. Vegetation was very rife. The 
sweet children of the spring-time had nearly all disap- 
peared, and Flora had given place to her bountiful 
sister Ceres. Amid her domain, we climbed for a 
long distance, and then entered a lovely chestnut for- 
est, which in its turn gave way to a magnificent forest 
of pines. The long rows of trees that stretched in 
every direction about us, sent long rows of sunlight 
from beside them, which crossed and intertwined 
with the windings of the forest. And wherever there 
was a small clearing, great globes of light danced in 
our path, while the grave pines looked down and 
shook their heads the while. And still we clambered, 
now chasing the young shadows under the trees ; now 

88 Redeeming the Time. 

mounted on our steady, sensible old mules, and jog- 
ging in the road, until the long rows of light grew 
dim, and the shadows grew larger and chased them 
away, and the mountain top was nearly reached. 
Suddenly we emerged upon a beautiful, lately-shorn 
meadow, and the white convent building closed it in. 
We were conducted to a building apart, for the foot 
of woman must not tread these holy courts. The 
door of the " Forestiera'' was opened by a lay broth- 
er ; we dismounted, and ourselves and our belongings 
were carried in. Then ensued a tragic scene. The 
** Padre Decano,*' whose office it is to attend to the 
comfort of strangers, presented himself, and informed 
us that the Paradise we had just entered closed its 
doors the next day. The great festa of the year for 
Valombrosa is the Feast of Assumption, and we had 
arrived on its vigil. The gentlemen could be accom- 
modated in the convent, but such crowds would wish 
to be admitted to the rooms set apart for the enslaved 
sex to which we belonged, that the rules required 
them to be closed entirely. In vain did we plead and 
beg for an exception in our favor. At last I was ad- 
vised to try the sick-dodge, which had at least the 
merit of truth to recommend it. So I adopted fainter 
tones. I slowly remarked that Pelago was to me the 
valley of the shadow, sadly mentioned that Pelago 
air I had found a slow but very sure poison, and 
gaspingly stated that I had left America in quest of 
health, which I was convinced was awaiting me in the 
forests of Valombrosa. The good- padre was moved. 
He took snuff with great fervor, and meditated deep- 
ly. At last he remembered "due lettini" in an ob- 

Redeeming the Time. 89 

scure part of the house, which he could perhaps give 
us, if we would be contented with them. We re- 
marked with Montezuma that they were beds of 
roses, and joyfully went to housekeeping for the night, 
in the apartment usually allotted, to travelers. Our 
sleeping-rooms were two alcoves curtained off from a 
large room where the brother Benigno prepared his 
arrangements for our meals, and where he was rattling 
away the next morning so early as fearfully to dis- 
turb our dreams. But before he had made ready our 
supper, we amused ourselves by strolling about the 
neighborhood of the convent to view the preparations 
for the next day. A terrible martyrdom of chickens 
and turkeys had taken place, so that we could almost 
walk knee-deep in the piles of feathers which sur- 
rounded the mortal remains of the former owners 
thereof. Great fires were kindled in various places, 
over which hung vast pots of soup, giving forth al- 
ready not unsavory odors. A pile of heads lay in one 
place, one of combs in another, and beside the latter, 
not the brushes, but the gizzards, livers, etc., while 
spread out in due order, lay long rows of the dressed 
birds. Others in long rows also were suspended on 
spits at the fire, and slowly revolving, and gradually 
changing color, showed their intention of ministering 
to the feast next day. Many of the peasants stayed 
all night, and a great chamber in one of the barns was 
comfortably strewn with hay for their accommoda- 
tion. The cooks I suppose cooked all night, as their 
fires were bright when we disappeared behind our 
curtains. The next morning, when Fra Benigno had 
ceased to adorn our dreams, and become a decided 

90 Redeeming the Time. 

reality, we arose to prepare for his breakfast. And 
such a funny time as we had ! Half of our necessary 
articles of toilet had not been brought into the green- 
room, and we were forced to make an onslaught upon 
the napkins on account of the paucity of towels, and 
generally to make little darting excursions to the 
other side of the curtain, at the imminent danger of 
being surprised by the enemy. When we emerged, 
we found a comfortable breakfast awaiting us, and 
soon after we strolled into the church. This was at- 
tired in festal garments, whose red and gilt are never 
very becoming to churches. This one is rather a fine 
building, with some pretty good pictures and very 
good wood-carving. After dinner we went out into 
nature's great temple, and followed the paths through 
the woods until we emerged near the end of the do- 
mains of our kind hosts. The view is of the upper 
Val d'Arno, the river curving itself among the weird 
Apennines, rising tier upon tier against the horizon. 
In the valley, whose soft beauty is veiled in the dis- 
tance, Florence dimly raises her towers to view, and 
at our feet opens a great gorge into whose mysteries 
the woods peeped curiously as well as ourselves. And 
as we looked, we felt ourselves lifted by the atmos- 
phere we breathed and the grand scenes upon which 
we gazed to the heaven which bent over us, and the 
Heavenly Father, whose wondrous works we beheld. 
And then we strolled back to the convent to find 
ourselves kindly cared for and amused until the hour 
of retiring had arrived. Then the good Padre Decano 
arrayed himself in cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and 
conducted us to our new quarters through an old 

Redeeming the Time. 91 

cloister and up a flight of narrow, steep stone stairs. 
He then desired us to ignore him when we should 
meet next day, bade us good-night, and we were 
safely locked in our queer dormitory. How we 
laughed as we thought of the sensation we might cre- 
ate at home — a party of Protestant ladies from Amer- 
ica hidden away in the convent of Valombrosa, and 
locked up in an obscure corner thereof! However, 
we must correct the latter statement by saying that 
our servant had the key, and that we could also turn 
the bolt ourselves from the inside. Next morning, 
we opened our eyes upon a most curious scene. From 
our windows we looked down upon a number of 
splendid snowy Tuscan oxen, whose muzzles had 
been duly decorated with new and splendid worsted 
fringes to celebrate the day. Many of these had 
brought up our friends from the valley below in 
sledges. These are of the rudest possible construc- 
tion, consisting of baskets fastened to poles sum- 
marily stripped from a friendly tree, and put to im- 
mediate use. The seats are made by piling hay to 
the due height at either end of the chariot, and con- 
fining it to its place by boards. Thousands of people 
were walking about, crowding into the church or 
feasting at the booths. The men were generally ar- 
rayed in velvet coats and short clothes, and their rosy 
faces and white teeth shone with delight. The girls 
are laughing, sun-burned creatures, without much 
beauty, but with good-nature rippling all over their 
faces, and overflowing in their bright eyes and red 
lips. Each one was adorned with any number of 
strings of pearls. The Tuscan peasant woman carries 

92 Redeeming the Time. 

her fortune around her throat. The servants even 
expend all their spare money upon pearls, and expect 
to add one or more to their store every month. Each 
pearl is divided from its fellow by a knot, and thus 
each one is distinctly seen, while to our eyes, of 
course, the effect is entirely spoiled. The girls all 
wore huge flats hanging at the back of their necks, 
and trimmed with a variety of colors, the more the 
merrier, apparently. At the booths eatables of vari- 
ous kinds were sold. Besides the more solid luxuries, 
there were cakes, wines, candies, etc. One most ex- 
traordinary dainty was a half-cooked bit of dough, 
loolcing at a distance like a gigantic bon-bon. It was 
hollow, and into a hole in the middle was poured for 
the buyer a few drops of sweet and strong liqueur. 
The purchasers of this abomination were, of course, 
generally boys. And they seemed at the height of 
human felicity when with their mouths crammed with 
one abomination, their hands were outstretched for a 
second, and their eyes, which were always nearly 
popping out of their heads with agony, were fixed 
upon a third painful pleasure. Our rooms of the day 
before were entirely given up to Doney, the great 
confectioner of Florence. The large room was con- 
verted into a cafe, fitted up with chairs and tables, at 
which latter, ices and various cool drinks were dis- 
pensed. The attendants put their bottles to bed in 
one of our alcoves, and themselves in another. As to 
ourselves, we have been silent, mysterious, and almost 
ghostly. Our coffee was brought to our rooms by 
people who walked on tiptoe with bated breath. We 
ate our dinner in the usual dining-room, but with our 

Redeerniiig the Time. 93 

own Festus as our attendant, and with every door 
and window closely barred. Festus performed his 
functions as if he were a parricide at least, assisting 
at the feast of a cannibal tribe. Whenever we left 
our rooms, we stole therefrom like conspirators and 
entered them like pirates. When we met the Padre 
Decano, or any of the brethren whom we knew, we 
exchanged the iciest of bows. Poor Padre Decano ! 
there was always a quiver of his lips on these occa- 
sions which was very dangerous. 

But with the fall of the shadows began the depopu- 
lation of Valombrosa. Long processions of priests 
and people began to wind down the hill. Mules and 
donkeys were loaded with spits and copper kettles. 
The Juno-eyed oxen were attached to their sledges. 
The gay laugh of lad and lassie floated fainter and 
fainter to our ears as they wound down to the valley, 
and by dark we were again alone, and windows and 
doors were unbarred. Upon the whole we have 
rather enjoyed the Assumption of the Virgin (what- 
ever that is) and only hope that she does. The pic- 
tures of that event generally represent her as pushed 
about in a way which might be disagreeable, but 
then, perhaps the pictures do not give it just as it oc- 
cured. And we concluded that other people had also 
enjoyed the festa, when we heard the good Padre's 
account of the doings of the convent kitchen. Among 
the provisions set before the convent gues*:s, were 
three hundred pounds of beef and mutton, four hun- 
dred pounds of bread, twenty barrels of wine, and a 
hundred and sixty chickens. Two barrels and a half 
of water were used in the soup, and a good soup it is 

94 Redeemhtg the Time. 

too, as I can testify. This was all given away. The 
holocausts we had witnessed being fa^' those not re- 
ceived as guests. 

We were having so charming a time at Valombrosa, 
that nobody knows how long we should have re- 
mained there had we not received the sad information 
that the rules required us to yield our places to other 
guests. This was a terrible blow. We had been un- 
speakably captivating, especially to the Padre Deca- 
no, with whom we were all six feet deep in love ; 
those of us who had husbands only half a degree less 
than those who had not. We had hoped that our 
feelings were in some degree appreciated. Perhaps 
they were, for we were urged to return, but our rooms 
had been promised for the next two days, and our 
grief was great. Oh ! to be a lay brother, or a Ma- 
donna, or a Padre Decano, or a sacred relic, or a pine- 
tree, or anything or anybody that could remain in- 
definitely at Valombrosa ! Thus we mused the next 
day as we were making our preparations to descend 
to the lower world. Thus we mused many a long 
day afterward, when Valombrosa lay far away from 
our longing eyes. 

The monks of Valombrosa are of the Benedic- 
tine order. They take the vows of obedience, but I 
should scarcely think they take those of poverty, as 
their fare is almost as good as one could ask for any- 
where, and far better than one can find in any coun- 
try inn in Italy. They are very hospitable, and no 
return is asked for the entertainment furnished. It 
is, however, customary to leave a sum of money which 
shall equal that paid for board at a hotel for the same 

Redeeming the Time. 95 

length of time, and to remember the lay brother who 
waits at table md his satellites. When all this was 
done, and our last good-byes were said, we assumed 
the usual badge of mourning, and slowly plunged into 
the pine forest which surrounds our convent. And 
then we returned to the care of the Antonines, and 
in due time drove forth by the light of the pale moon 
on our way back to Florence, which we reached in 
the blush of early morning. 

Another excursion yet was that to the Painted Tomb 
of Etruscan Veii. The story, as it here follows, is abridged, 
by omissions, from the form in which its author gave it to 
the press. 

From the Monte Pincio, over which we are slowly 
riding one early summer morning, one has a charm- 
ing view of modern Rome. There rises the great 
dome of St. Peter's. There stretches the huge pile 
of the Vatican, with its mile of extent, its long gal- 
leries, and its many apartments for the Head of the 
Church and the ruler of Rome. On the Janiculum 
beyond flows the triple fountain of St. Paul. The 
gateway, so^rominent on the same hill, is the en- 
trance to the Villa Doria. The church in the neigh- 
borhood is that erected over the spot where St. Peter 
is said to have suffered martyrdom. Just beneath us 
is the Piazza del Popolo, whence stream the three 
streets which pierce that portion of modern Rome 
where foreigners congregate ; and hence churches 
and palaces and crowded streets sweep on toward 
the horizon. 

g6 Redeeming the Time. 

Now, go backward in time. Let these lonely hills, 
where but an occasional convent or villa watches over 
the city, sparkle with magnificent palaces, long-drawn 
porticoes, and richly decorated theatres. Restore the 
Colosseum, -whose huge bulk rises in the distance. 
People the forum with a moving crowd, of whom 
some shall enter its splendid temples ; others be 
driven in costly chariots to the senate-house or to 
the Graecostasis, where ambassadors from foreign 
lands are to be received ; or all, both rich and poor, 
throng to the Circus or the Amphitheatre. Throw 
down the buildings of the present city, and restore 
the valley to its primitive destination as a military 
parade-ground. Let the grand dome of the Panthe- 
on still swell in its midst. In place of the modern 
church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, let the wor- 
shipers of the goddess of Wisdom meet in a temple 
sacred to her fame. Place, also, for the mourners, 
who are slowly bearing the ashes of a beloved prince 
to the mausoleum of Augustus. And when we have 
gazed a moment on this scene, command the wave of 
time to roll back still further, and once more we look 
from this same height. 

The Tiber flows on, but no impe^rial bridges cross 
its tide. The Palatine lifts no gorgeous palace to 
the sky. The Capitoline bears no temple to the 
Father of gods. Over no Via Sacra, no Via Tri- 
umphalis, rolls the conqueror's car. No prisoners 
groan in the dungeons of the Mamertine. No lion's 
roar is echoed through the vaults of the Amphithea- 
tre. No living fountains pour their streams through 
the arches of the aqueducts. The obelisks which 

Redeeming' the Time. 97 

were brought to adorn palace and circus of iniperial 
Rome, now guard the splendid temples on the banks 
of the distant Nile. The arches of the Colosseum, 
the walls with which the mistress of the world sur- 
rounded her seven hills, slumber in the quarries of 
Cerbara and Monte Verde. 

In those distant days there flourished here a city 
over whose grave Rome has triumphed as she tri- 
umphed over the thousands of living cities which in 
after days bowed beneath her sway. Its very name 
has perished. Its very existence is denied. Its great 
works have been attributed to a handful of barba- 
rians and shepherds. 

It is to visit the site of a city which was flourishing 
and prosperous before the days of the foster-children 
of the she-wolf, that we leave the gates of Rome, 
and direct our steps toward Florence, on our way to 
see the spot where once flourished the Etruscan city 
of Veii 

A most picturesque dell is this in which we stand. 
The great massive rock through which the tunnel has 
been pierced rising above us, ilexes and ivy clinging 
and waving in every direction, boulders scattered 
about us as though giants had been at play ; some 
of these choking the stream, covered with moss, and 
fit for footstools for the river-gods. It seems impos- 
sible to realize that we are standing on the site of a 
populous city. And yet Veii lay stretched for a dis- 
tance of seven miles in the happy valley she had 
chosen for her home. 

We can not toil through the heavy vegetation that 
hangs over what were once crowded streets and lofty 

98 Redeeming the Time. 

walls, or urge our way through briers covering the 
site of homes made comfortable by luxury and civili- 
zation when Rome was struggling into existence on 
the Palatine, without remembering with deep interest 
the history of the life and death of Veii. Before 
visiting its most interesting memorials, let us recall 
some of the bravery of the noble people who inhab- 
ited it. 

Veii was the chief of the twelve Etruscan cities, 
and well did she deserve her place at their head. She 
early saw, with prophetic eye, the danger to her life 
and liberty threatened b)'* Rome, and early in the 
career of the latter a series of struggles took place 
between the two powers. She fought with Romulus, 
with the first Tarquin, and in aid of Tarquin the 
Proud when he was banished from Rome. Again 
and again in the history of the republic, also, did 
Veii rise to conquer or die. And again and again, 
there is no doubt, was she successful. Amid all the 
glamour which Roman historians throw over their 
wars, this fact still shows forth. In the days of 
Romulus, the Etruscans settled upon the Ccelian 
Hill, which certainly conquered foes would never 
have been allowed to do. And we read of long 
treaties continually being made between Rome and 
Veii ; treaties for ten, twenty, forty, and even one 
hundred years ; while Veii was generally the first to 
disturb the peace between the two powers. Some of 
the most memorable and splendid passages of Roman 
history occur in connection with her wars with Veii. 
The Fabian gens for two years left their beloved city 
and encamped six miles from her walls ; erecting a 

Redeeming the Time. 99 

fortress, whence they emerged from time to time to 
harass their foes. At last they grew bolder, and 
strayed further from their camp, lured by the Vein- 
tines to their destruction. It fell upon them swift 
and sure. And the Romans were not strong enough 
to avenge a slaughter which plunged their whole city 
into mourning. The Veiians encamped on the Jan- 
iculum, crossed the Tiber, and stood before the gates. 
Another truce was made, we know not upon what 
terms, and so war followed truce, and truce attended 
after war again and again. And when, at last, Veii 
fell, it was in no ordinary battle. A mine was 
pierced, opening into her citadel, into the temple 
of her goddess. The Romans issued into the streets, 
opened the gates of the city to their hosts, and 
slaughtered their noble foes, or carried them captive 
to Rome. The statue of Juno looked on while the 
blood of her children flowed at her altar. " Wilt 
thou go to Rome, Juno.'**' said Camillus, and Juno, 
with the facile power of muscle and the desire for 
change which is apt to be characteristic of images of 
sacred and profane worship, bowed her head in as- 
sent. So she was conducted to Rome, and went to 
housekeeping in a bran-new marble-front house on 
the Aventinc, where she was worshiped for a thou- 
sand years. 

And now Vcii, emptied of her inhabitants, was in 
the hands of her conquerors. It was a lovely city, 
beautifully built, with regular streets and splendid 
public edifices, with a citadel upon a commanding 
hill, with houses abounding in luxury and comfort all 
unknown to most of the population of Rome. It 


lOo Redeeming the Time. 

stretched away into a well-watered plain, occupying 
a space as large as that covered by Athens, and was 
in all respects a contrast to Rome. Rome climbed 
its seven hills ; its streets were narrow, its buildings 
irregular, its houses destitute of comfort, its lands 
occupied by the rich, its poor forgotten and misera- 
ble. Many of the bone and sinew of Rome removed 
to Veii, but they were recalled. They were needed 
to labor and to fight, and strong measures were taken 
to prevent their leaving the city. 

The next year the poor Veiian slave at labor for 
his new and cruel taskmasters heard the Gaul thun- 
der at the gates of Rome, and the smoke of the 
proud city went up to heaven as she lay in ashes 
beneath the tread of the barbarian. Roman gold 
paid the price which redeemed the capitol and the 
buildings on the Palatine only. 

But let us enter the last resting-place of a noble 
Etruscan, who, taken from the evil to come, was 
never forced, with brimming eyes and bursting heart, 
to behold the ruin of his country. A passage cut 
through the tufa rock, and guarded by two lions, 
leads to the sepulchral chamber. At the door of en- 
trance two other lions are placed ; all these grim sen- 
tinels are now headless and battered. I shall never 
forget my feelings when, having passed them, the 
door was opened, and I was admitted into this house 
of the dead. On either side of the room I entered 
is a stone bench, upon which, uncoffined, had been 
laid, on the one side, the body of a warrior in full 
armor, and on the other, as it is supposed, that of 
his wife. Part of the armor, a spear-head and helmet, 

Redeeming the Time, loi 

lie upon the bench at the right hand, and also a can- 
delabrum — all of bronze. There are about the room 
many jars containing ashes, and others for wine and 
oil. The next room is ceiled with carved beams, and 
contains a bronze brazier for burning perfumes, and 
several small square stone chests for human ashes. 
On the lid of each of these is sculptured the head of 
the occupant, so that he seems emerging from the 
urn which contains his remains. On the walls are 
painted particolored crowns. 

Returning to the first room, and taking in my 
hand the helmet, I felt that I could read there, writ- 
ten in letters of bronze, a tale of pathetic interest. 
Long ago, before the days of Solomon, an Etruscan 
prince led his countrymen to the field. He was vic- 
torious. Pursuing his flying foes, urging on his troops, 
himself in the front rank, as the enemy turned at bay 
to sell their lives as dearly as they could, he was mor- 
tally wounded in a hand-to-hand combat. See, by 
this hole entered the spear, and by this one it passed 
out, having done its work well, and set free a noble 
soul as it pierced the active brain. His troops return 
to their home victorious, but singing no song of tri- 
umph. A melancholy dirge floats on the air, and is 
re-echoed in wilder, shriller accents from within the 
gates of the city. Again and again rises the strain of 
mourning as the soldiers bear him whom they loved 
and reverenced, and for whom hundreds would have 
willingly laid down their lives, to his honorable bed. 
They hewed out his tomb in the living rock, and 
placed about it the dread symbols of sovereignty and 
eternal guardianship. They depicted crowns of vie- 

I02 Redeeming the Time. 

tory about the walls to symbolize his death as a con- 
queror. They burned costly perfumes in his honor. 
They poured libations of wine and oil. And there, 
" like a warrior taking his rest " on the battle-field, 
they laid him. Here his broken-hearted wife was 
soon brought to share his repose. Here his family 
and friends were placed near him. Here his depend- 
ents and servants were laid beside him. And when 
all was done, when wife and friends and servants were 
all gathered about him, when the tomb was finally 
sealed up, and relinquished to the care of the mute 
sentinels who lie still beside it, they carved no name, 
they inscribed no record of his deeds. These were 
graven on the hearts of his countrymen. They were 
sung from age to age by the bards of Etruria. Hun- 
dreds of years after his tomb was closed the poor 
Veiian slave in the city of his foes sang at his toil in 
plaintive accents the life and deeds and death of the 
great Etruscan Lucumo. 

But even here we do not leave the dead warrior. 
The chambers are painted in quaint designs, but in 
imperishable colors. One of these only I shall de- 
scribe. It reminded me most strongly of a quaint 
picture I had seen a few months before, painted by 
old Luini, representing the scene of the Crucifixion. 
The victim still on the cross, but dead. The souls of 
the penitent and of the impenitent thief in the guise 
of new-born babes were just hovering over the cross. 
The one was received of angels, the other seized and 
borne away by a demon. 

In the rude painting nearest the warrior's last rest- 
ing-place we see a traveler unarmed and unclothed. 

Redeeming the Time. 103 

mounted on horseback. He is preceded by two at- 
tendants, one of whom bears a hammer. Seated 
behind him, with one paw resting on his shoulder, is 
an animal, who may perhaps represent a genius. The 
soul of the warrior is here represented setting forth 
upon its long journey. The attendants are the good 
and evil spirits, to one of whom he is to be delivered. 
The animal who rides behind him is the memory of 
his past deeds. 

But the countenance of the traveler, his firm pos- 
ture, his steadfast, onward gaze, betoken no fear. 
Naked, he is not ashamed; alone and unarmed, he 
trusts and is safe. Surely, gleams of a better faith ; 
surely, hopes of a higher life are portrayed here. 
And around all the quaint, rude figures are portrayed 
garlands of lotus-flowers, the emblems of immortality. 
May it not be said of these who sleep here, and of 
those who laid them to their rest, that they obeyed 
the command : " That they should seek the Lord, if 
haply they might feel after Him and find Him?" 



Rebuilding- a Ruined Church — Visit to the Valleys 
oy the Waldenses — The Stronghold of Angrog- 
no — The Glorieuse Rcntrtfe— ^ Sabbath in the 
Temple of the Bahille^The Lortfs Supper— A 

N her first arrival in Italy, as some pages already 
^ ^ transcribed from her journal prove, Mrs. Gould's 
warm interest was drawn out toward the Walden- 
sian Christians. And this interest grew from year to year 
as she became better acquainted with this interesting 
people in their own homes. For in the enforced journeys 
which she made each year, as the summer heats at Rome, 
and the annual access of the hay-fever combined to drive 
her to the higher parts of Switzerland and the Tyrol, she 
would often pass by Turin, and the opening in the moun- 
tains that leads up into the historic valleys and ravines in 
which the simplicity of the Gospel was so long harbored 

from persecution. She did not like to pass her friends 


The Waldenses. 1 05 

without a visit ; and it need not be said that she did not 
visit them without doing them some good, and leaving 
some grateful memory, behind her. An incident soon 
occurred which gave to her interest in the Waldenses a 
practical turn. A lady living in one of our Western 
States, felt her sympathies strongly excited toward this 
ancient communion, and wished to do something in aid of 
it. She looked for some one who would make a wise dis- 
position of her gift, and ended by putting a considerable 
sum of money into Mrs. Gould's hands, to be applied for 
the object, at her discretion. Through Mrs. Gould's 
agency the amount was increased by other contributions. 
In one of her visits to the Vaudois valleys, she had seen 
an ancient church that dated from before the days of per- 
secution. It was ruined, roofless, and wasted by fire. 
Still, from generation to generation, the people had con- 
tinued to meet there. Sometimes they would be driven 
away by persecution, but those whom the sword had 
spared would return to kneel where their fathers knelt. 
And now, from beyond the ocean, help came to them. 
The old church was roofed in and repaired at a consider- 
able expense ; so that what this impoverished people had 
lost by persecution at the bands of their fierce neighbors 
was restored by the charity of their fellow-Christians from 
a thousand leagues away. 

Naturally, after being the agent of such a benefaction, 
Mrs. Gould was sure of a warm and grateful welcome 
among the mountaineers, whenever she was able to include 
the trip to La Tour and Pignerol, in her plans of summer 


1 06 The Waldenses. 

travel. The following is taken from the description of a 
visit to the Waldensian valleys : 

We were charmed with the situation of La 
Tour, as we beheld it the morning after our ar- 
rival. It is in a high valley, watered by two clear 
mountain streams, and surrounded by fertile hills and 
grand mountains. The valley is green with lovely 
meadows of rich grass, scattered all over with clover- 
heads. Patches of corn burn in the sunshine, and 
thrifty vines hang upon the hill-sides. The Catholic 
church is just at the entrance to the village, and just 
beyond the village on the opposite side is the Prot- 
estant church, a neat, pretty structure. Beside it is 
the parsonage, and in the immediate neighborhood 
are the college and the Professors* houses, each stand- 
ing in a little garden. There is an Orphan Asylum 
for girls in La Tour, and a large number of schools. 
Indeed, throughout the Valais, the church and the 
school side by side in each village, remind one of the 
New England towns in their early settlement. In 
the Orphan Asylum, the children receive a good 
French and Italian education ; are taught to sew, 
knit, and crochet, and perform all the labor of the 
establishment, so that they learn something of cook- 
ing, and can scrub, wash, and iron ; they also cultivate 
the little vegetable garden. 

Education receives great care among the Vaudois. 
The children at a very early age are gathered into 
Infant Schools, where they learn to read and write, 
commence mental Arithmetic, and are taught some- 
thing of the world into which they have so lately 

The Waldenses. 107 

been introduced. Then come the primary, second- 
ary, and high-schools. And there is a College for 
young men, and a Boarding-school for young ladies. 
The Theological Seminary is at Florence. The course 
of study pursued in the schools is very thorough in 
certain respects, but, like Italian education generally, 
is deficient in branches calculated to interest children. 
They are taught the grammar of the French and Ital- 
ian languages with great care, write an excellent hand, 
and are well-exercised both in mental and practical 
Arithmetic. They have also a good knowledge of 
Geography. History and the Physical Sciences are 
too much neglected excepting in the higher schools. 
The best men among them are, however, aware of 
these defects, which are being gradually amended. 
The religious education is most carefully attended to. 
Not only are there Sunday-schools in all the par- 
ishes, but the Bible is diligently studied as a text- 
book in all the day-schools. Many of the schools in 
the upper valleys are closed during the summer. The 
services even of the children are required upon the 
farms, and the salaries of the masters are so small that 
they are obliged to eke out their means by farm-work. 
From La Tour, excursions are made to the moun- 
tain valleys. About an hour thence is Angrogno, 
one of the valleys, which has witnessed some of the 
most terrible scenes in the history of the Valais. 
Here, at one time, every house was burned, save the 
two churches, which the flames refused to destroy. 
In the principal village is a simple white " temple " 
(as the Vaudois call their churches), where on one 
occasion a Catholic altar was erected, and a monk 

io8 The Waldenses. 

thundered forth denunciations of human and Divine 
wrath upon the humble flock in the wilderness obliged, 
to attend the service. And not far distant, in the 
very heart of the mountain, is Pra da Tour, where 
they retreated to make their last stand. Here the 
women wept and watched and prayed one long day, 
while a handful of the men repulsed an army sent 
against them, and then the valley resounded with 
songs of praise. God had given to his people the vic- 
tory. Again and again did the foe enter the defile ; 
again and again was he repulsed. When we read the 
wonderful way in which rock and meadow, torrent 
and mountain fog, were made to fight for this peo- 
ple, we seem to feel a holy awe as we tread the hid- 
den places of the earth which God prepared in the 
distant ages for a sanctuary for his truth. Here are 
rocky barriers which served as fortresses, where a 
little one could put ten thousand to flight. From 
this soft green terrace, a blaspheming leader of the 
enemy slipping upon the dry grass, was precipitated 
into the boiling torrent below. One day, the enemy 
had penetrated so far into the rocky defile that it 
seemed as if Pra du Tour, the refuge of the weak 
and helpless, the v/omen and children, the aged and 
infirm, must be taken. Then a thick fog fell upon 
the combatants. The enemy could not trace the nar- 
row path along the precipice. The Vaudois seized 
the opportunity, attacked them, and put them to 
flight. The fugitives often fell, to rise no more, into 
the deep pools of the river below. These and the 
sharp-pointed rocks were the weapons with which 
God discomfited them that day. 

The Waldenses. i og 

VVe had the privilege on the Sabbath which we 
spent in the Valais, of attending service in the neigh- 
borhood of the Balsille. Here the Vaudois first trod 
their native mountains on occasion of their " Glo- 
rieuse Rentr6e/* They had been almost destroyed, 
and the feeble remainder exiled. The Swiss had re- 
ceived and cared for them, and their own mountain 
homes knew them no more. With longings that 
could not be controlled, with sickness of heart that 
could not be healed, they looked back to their be- 
loved land. There were the graves of their fathers ; 
there the temples where they had worshiped God ; 
there the cabins which had sheltered them in infancy ; 
there the mountains they had so often climbed ; there 
their homes. In vain did kind but stranger hands 
minister to their wants. That fearful home-sickness 
to which the mountaineer seems so subject took pos- 
session of them, and though innumerable dangers 
and privations assailed them, they climbed the moun- 
tains which separated them from their own. Through 
frost and snow, over fearful precipices, up bare and 
steep heights, they toiled and climbed for long days 
and nights. And at last over a solid wall of rock 
they looked down upon their desolate homes. And 
upon this mountain side of the Balsille they first 
rested on their native soil. Here, too, they spent 
their first winter after their return, living like the 
earlier disciples, in caves of the earth, and nourished 
almost by miracle. 

On a sweet morning, when the valley was hushed 
in more than Sabbath stillness, we set forth to visit 
this sacred spot. Threading the defiles, crossing the 

no The Waldenses, 

stream, descending the mountain to mount again 
immediately on the opposite side of the torrent to a 
greater height, we toiled on our way to the village of 
the Balsille. This is situated on two shelves of rock 
separated from each other by the young and riotous 
waves of the Germanesca torrent. And thence we 
mounted an almost perpendicular grassy slope, the 
hiding-place and fortress of the saints in the dreadful 
days of their persecution. Above us were the rocky 
walls they had scaled to reach their homes again, and 
those still more steep and difficult by which they es- 
caped when driven at last from their winter's strong- 
hold. From the forest of pine trees below us the 
enemy had rushed to destroy them, and had been re- 
pulsed. Above the opposite heights, where the cat- 
tle were now peacefully feeding, they had been seen 
by the same enemy when escaped like the bird from 
the hand of the fowler. From a descendant of the 
Captain who led them in the darkness of night from 
the position which they could no longer hold, we re- 
ceived a bowl of bread and milk, our breakfast on 
that Sabbath morning. 

From the Balsille, we sought the sanctuary to 
which the eleven villages of this parish are gathered. 
The congregation is composed entirely of peasants, 
and is most devout and attentive. The " Temple,** 
like the other Vaudois churches, is white within and 
without. Upon the roof is depicted the Dove, and 
upon the wall, the Vaudois emblem, a lighted candle, 
and the words, ^^ Lux lucit in tenebrdJ' The pulpit is 
of dark wood, and beneath it is the clerk's desk. 
The men sit upon one side of the church, and the 

The Waldenses. 1 1 1 

women upon the other. The clerk reads the people 
into church. When all are assembled, the clergyman 
enters. As he came up the aisle, those of his con- 
gregation whom he passed rose in token of respect. 
The service had not commenced when two men and 
a woman entered, one of the men carrying a bundle 
tied with huge bows of red ribbon. A band of the 
same color was put about the woman's hat. They 
presented themselves, with a little salutation, just in 
front of the clerk's desk. I then perceived that the 
bundle was an infant, brought by its godfathers and 
godmother for baptism. The simple exhortation was 
given, the questions binding the sponsors asked and 
answered, and the child received the name of Henri 
Arnaud. The custom of having godfathers and god- 
mothers is dying out. During the times of persecu- 
tion, it was thought proper to provide, children with 
guardians, beside their parents. So many fathers 
gave their lives for their religion, so many mothers 
were tortured and murdered, that the joy with which 
a child was received was mingled with teiars and trem- 
bling in those doleful days. And it was a comfort 
that others had promised to care for it, should its 
parents be removed, and to watch over its religious 
education. But those times are over, and the more 
intelligent of the people do not understand why 
sponsors should take upon themselves vows which 
they will have no opportunity to fulfill. 

After the baptism, the clergyman read the Com- 
mandments, and then a simple liturgy. Either writ- 
ten or unwritten prayers are used, according to the 
choice of the officiating clergyman. The singing 

1 1 2 The Waldenscs. 

is led by the clerk. The movement is slow, and the 
melody rather German than Italian. The voices are 
uncultivated, but not discordant. After the sermon, 
the Creed is read, the Levitical and Apostolic Bene- 
diction given, and with the injunction (never omitted), 
to remember the poor, the services are concluded. 

The Lord's Supper is administered quarterly, on 
two successive Sabbaths. One of these services I 
attended. The bread and wine had been brought in 
and placed upon the table by the elders. The flagons 
were of pewter, and the goblets of glass. After an 
exhortation read from the pulpit, the clergyman 
descended, and putting a piece of money into the 
plate, partook himself of the bread and wine. The 
elders and clerk next came forward, and the men of 
the congregation two by two. Each, as he approach- 
ed the little table, put into the plate a sou or double 
sou. The clergyman broke the bread, and with a cer- 
tain wave of the hand presented it to the two per- 
sons standing before him. As they received it, they 
made a gesture of salutation with the hand. The 
wine was presented by the elder to the clergyman, 
and given and received as was the bread. As each 
communicant retired, he made a slight bend of the 
head. Two others immediately came forward, and 
the procession of men at an end, the women presented 
themselves in the same way. I think no stranger 
could have been present on this occasion without 
feeling himself carried back to the early days of the 
Christian Church. There, under the shadow of the 
great mountains which had been the bulwark of their 
fiathers, the children met to celebrate the death of 

The WaldenseSn 


their Lord. On one occasion, their fathers had 
hoped to keep this sacred feast, but were called in- 
stead, many of them, to seal their love for their 
Saviour with their blood. Henri Arnaud, for whom 
the little babe was that day named, had prepared 
them for the communion, and when they were pre- 
vented from partaking of it, he led them forth to 


i866— 1870. 

An ExiH caring for the Orphans of Exiles-^ 
A Paternal Government — An A mertcan IVo^ 
man before a Roman Tribunal — A Christmas 
Tree in an Alpine Village — The Florence 
School and Orphanage — A Memorial Stone, 

WHILE, at Rome, the evil days continued, 
there came to Mrs. Gould at Florence, where 
she had frequent occasion to sojourn, a wel- 
come opportunity of serving God by ministering to little 
children. She found there an. asylum for Protestant 
orphans, that had been begun many years before in En- 
gland, where one Salvatore Ferret ti was then living, a 
refugee from religious persecution. When liberty 01 
opinion came to Italy, he returned to Florence, bringing 
with him the orphan children of Italians who had died in 
exile. He struggled long and manfully to support both 
these and others who had come to him. His aim was to 
save the helpless orphan daughters of Italian Protestants 

from want and ignorance and sin, and put them in the 

The Florence Orpfianage, 115 

way of living honorably by their own labor, without the 
sacrifice of their simple faith, and their clear conscience 
before God. When, in 1866, this orphanage first came to 
the notice of Mrs. Gpuld, it was in an unwholesome situa- 
tion, and very comfortless, with some ten or twelve chil- 
dren, as well cared for as they could be with the means at 
Mr. Ferretti's disposal. Efforts were immediately and 
successfully made to furnish a more suitable house, and to 
increase the usefulness of the institution. Mrs. Gould's 
efforts were indefatigable in helping on the good work. 
She interested many Americans at home and abroad in 
this orphanage ; and it largely depended upon her for its 
support for several years. By the time her energies were 
withdrawn from this work to another, it had been brought 
to a position where it was secure from the dangers which 
threatened its earlier days. 

One winter, during these " evil days *' of Rome, while 
Mrs. Gould was earnestly engaged among her English and 
American friends in that city, in collecting money for this 
orphanage at Florence, an incident occurred which dis- 
played something of her character, and something of the 
character of that benign and *' paternal government," the 
overthrow of which, we are sometimes taught, was a mon- 
strous and horrible sacrilege, and the restoration of which 
is represented as a duty binding on all Christian nations, 
that the wrath of God may so be averted from the world. 

It became known to the Papal Government, through 
some of those delicate expedients which were a part of 
its ordinary machinery, that a vile and abominable thing 

Ii6 The Floreftce Orphanage. 

was committed in the Holy City ; that a humane and 
Christian woman was actually collecting charitable gifts 
among her personal friends for the support of some orphan 
children in a neighboring town ! There are some forms 
of vice and crime at which this apostolic Government, for 
a consideration, has sometimes been induced to connive. 
But not at enormities like this ! 

The house of Dr. Gould was from the beginning an 
object of suspicion to the Roman police. It was reported 
that American and English travelers would assemble there 
on Sunday evenings; and sounds like the singing of 
hymns had been heard proceeding from his parlors. There 
was reason to suspect that these strangers might surrepti- 
tiously be engaged in worshiping God. Dr. Gould was 
summoned before the police and questioned as to the pro- 
ceedings. Had not the persons assembling at his house 
been engaged in acts of worship ? He was not prepared 
to deny that their Sunday evening hymns were of this 
character. Would he give assurance that the occurrence 
should not be repeated ? On the contrary, he thought it 
in the highest degree probable that his countrymen and 
countrywomen, gathering at his house on Sunday evening, 
would continue to join in Christian hymns according to 
their national custom. But were there not Italians among 
them? On this point Dr. Gould was enabled in some 
measure to relieve the anxiety of the paternal Govern- 
ment ; it was not customary for Italians to be present at 
these social gatherings of strangers. And with a certain 
amount of browbeating, the culprit was given to under- 

The Florence Orphanage. 1 1 7 

stand that his case would be held under consideration. 
The authorities did consider it ; and to such good purpose 
that they concluded that to banish from the city the phy- 
sician to the American legation, because his guests would 
sing hymns of a Sunday night, might be attended with 
more inconvenience than advantage. And the hymn- 
singing went on from year to year, without serious moles- 

But the present case was a different one, in two gravely 
important respects : first, the crime was no longer that of 
Christian worship, but that of acts of charity and mercy to 
destitute and suffering orphan children ; secondly, the of- 
fender, summoned before the police court in her husband's 
absence, at the instance of an eminent prelate, to answer 
for this nefarious business, was a woman. It might have 
been expected, and undoubtedly was, that a woman sud- 
denly dragged into that position would be intimidated at 
once. But the result was the furthest possible from that ; 
for she was " in nothing terrified by her adversaries, which 
was to them an evident token of perdition, but to her of 
salvation, and that of God." Present in court, to lend the 
majesty of his purple to this dignified attempt to frighten 
a foreigner and a lady with the threat of criminal proceed- 
ings, was Monsignor N , one of the most noted society- 
prelates of the Roman court, personally known to Mrs. 
Gould, and at once recognized by her as the instigator of 
this mischief. It may not have been according to the Ro- 
man Code of Procedure in such cases provided, but for 
all that it was not the less effective, when the little Araeri- 

1 1 8 The Florence Orphanage, 

can lady, wilh an immense dignity which those who knew 
her will at once imagine, turned sharply upon her eminent 
friend and charged him with the shameful insult that had 
been put upon her. At once Monsignor was all protesta- 
tions of respect and disclaimer. ** He purred over me like 
an old cat," said Mrs. Gould when she told the story, on 
reaching home. He was sure that no insult was intended, 
and trusted that no offense would be taken. "But you 
have insulted me," she answered; "you know perfectly 
well that if I have transgressed the law there is a proper 
way of dealing with a lady in my position, through the 
representative of my country. But go on, if you think 
best, and make me a criminal on such a charge as this ! 
I promise you there is not a newspaper in America but 
shall tell the story of it." Obviously the relations between 
prosecution and defense were becoming painfully inverted. 
There was a little sotto voce consultation between the court 
and the eminent amicus curice^ at the end of which they 
were fain to let their prisoner go without so much as a 

The following letter, dated at Rome so late as Decem- 
ber 9, 1869, speaks both of the Waldensians in the valleys, 
and of the Florence Orphanage, and shows something of 
the progress which the latter had made in the few years 
which she had devoted to it. It is an appeal for help 
addressed to the Sunday-school children of the United 
States : 

My Dear Children :— The happy Christmas time 

The Florence Orphanage, 119 

is coming, and perhaps before this letter can reach 
you, you will have been gathered about your Christ- 
mas trees, enjoying the gifts which the season brings 
you. I know of other children who are looking 
forward also to the same day, because, thanks to 
you, they also are to have something to remind them 
that there is a little light shining in the darkness of 
their long cold winter. The Waldenses in the Alpine 
villages are long ago shut up among snows and ice. 
In the very early part of October their winter begins. 
I have heard from two of their clergymen lately, and 
I shall hear again after the Christmas season has 
passed. Ah! I wish we could do more for them, 
for childhood with so little comfort is very sad. I 
received such a beautiful letter from one of their 
clergymen after their little festa of last year, and then 
their teacher had written a little note of thanks, which 
they all signed. I will tell you a little about their 

They could not meet in the evening, for many of 
them live miles away from their school and church. 
There are no roads, and the foot-paths are covered 
with icy snow. Some of the little tiny ones were 
thought to be too little to come, but they begged so 
hard that they were brought on the father's or big 
brother's back, and they were all in the church at the 
appointed hour. There, the clergyman made a very 
short address and a prayer, and then the children, 
were conducted to the largest school-room of the 
parish. The clergyman is himself very poor. He 
never eats meat more than once a week, but he wanted 
to help make his little ones happy. So, he had got 

I20 The Florence Orphattage: 

in evergreen from the woods, and his wife had made 
candles, which they cut up, and hung in their little 
tfee. A Christmas tree ! The children had heard 
of such a thing, but never seen it before. Some of 
them screamed with delight ; some of them stood 
perfectly still,.as if they could never move away from 
the beautiful vision. Some of them had tears in 
their eyes, the happiest they had ever shed. At last, 
one or two broke out into an Evviva, and, in a mo- 
ment, Evvivas loud and long sounded all over the 
room. This exclamation is a little more musical 
than our Hurrah, and means the same thing. When 
the teachers could get them a little quiet, they began 
one of the beautiful French hymns which I have so 
often heard them sing, and the voices turned from 
shout to song. And then began the distribution of 
the presents. 

** The tree was loaded with magnificent gifts," 
wrote the clergyman, " and each child received three 
sets." I was frightened, for I thought he must have 
run me in debt. But I read on. " First, each child 
received a big tract and a little tract ; second, each 
child received an excellent bun and two mottoes; 
third, each child received a gilded nut and an apple." 
There, dear children, you see how little makes these 
poor little creatures perfectly happy. Do you not think 
we should be willing to give them this little taste of 
pleasure once a year ? I could not do it this Christ- 
mas, but I hope by next year to be able to send 
enough money to light up one such little tree in 
every Sunday-school in the Waldensian Alps. You 
have helped me to make many happy this year; 

The Florence Orphanage. 121 

many . children like yourselves. God bless you 
for it ! 

What shall I tell you of our school and orphan- 
house ? The school has now three hundred and fifty 
children. They are under the care of most excellent 
teachers, so devoted, that they take the little salary 
that can be afforded to them because they would 
rather be poor and be able to teach their children 
something of their Heavenly Father and Saviour 
than gain more money in other ways, as they might 
easily do. Indeed, a large sum of money is promised 
whenever the teachers will promise not to pray with 
the children, or read to them from the Bible. Thank 
God, these noble men and women say, " Thy money 
perish with thee ! " In a letter just received from 
one of them, she says : " Catholics, Jews, Atheists, 
and Protestants all sing our hymns, and are present 
at our prayers." 

This school was brought to our notice, as it seemed 
by accident, just as supplies which it had been re- 
ceiving were cut off. Ah ! it was no accident which 
led us to its doors. It was the Heavenly Father of 
these little ones who guided our steps that day. 
And from that time, as one trouble after another has 
fallen upon us, until we find ourselves to-day almost 
in despair, we have been sure that God meant these 
children to be trained up for Him by our means. As 
one way has closed up, He will show us another. We 
can not, we will not turn these children into the street. 
We will not give them up to the priests. Tell us, 
Spnday-school children 6f America, that we need not ! 
Tell us that you will help us to keep our promise. 


122 The Florence Orphanage. 

And the orphan girls ! What shall we tell you 
about them ? My letter has grown so that I can not 
give you the details I would about them. In the 
letter which I have just received, the teacher tells 
me that the superintendent received, the day the let- 
ter was written (the 4th of December), eight pressing 
applications for places in the Orfanotrofio for eight 
girls. He had to refuse them all. We are in debt. 
Our beds are not properly furnished. Our little 
delicate children need warm, woolen stockings. 
(They shall not need those after Christmas, for I 
shall send them every one two pairs ; so you need 
not think of their poor little cold toes). They need 
other warm clothing; and we are still liable to be 
turned out of our house for the rent. When I think 
of it all, I feel almost overwhelmed ; but I remember 
who bade us commit the fatherless children to Him. 
He will, I believe, send help to the suffering little 
ones of Italy from the happy little ones of America. 
To you, children of loving mothers, to you, mothers 
of happy children, we commit them. 

The work thus begun grew and prospered. In connec- 
tion with it there grew up (as Mrs. Gould's letter indi- 
cates) a large and flourishing day-school. Of what sort 
this school was, in aim and methods, and especially in the 
unselfish, unpartisan. Christian spirit in which it was con- 
ducted, may best be learned from the example of the Ro- 
man schools in which, only a few months later, Mrs. 
Gould was able to apply the results of her Florentine ex- 

The Florence Orphanage. 123 

The orphanage itself has grown into a permanent insti- 
tution. No longer housed in an unwholesome tenement 
from which, on the failure of its precarious income, it was 
liable to be turned into the street, it occupies a fine build- 
ing purchased and held in trust for its express use. 
' A lady who had known the whole w^ork from its begin- 
ning, wrote thus in 1876: "To my mind the Florence 
Orphanage is at this moment the fairest monument of 
Mrs. Gould's noble. Christian philanthropy and indomit- 
able energy that she has left behind her in Italy.'* 

To the same dear friend is due a fitting memorial of 
this part of Mrs. Gould's work — a block of white marble 
set in the wall of the Orphanage, with this inscription : 







1859 — 1 87 1. 


Austro-Italian War^ xZ$(^—Annexaiian to Pied' 
tnont of JLombardy and Tuscany — Kingdom 0/ 
Italy — Insurrection in Sicily and Conquest of 
Naples by Garibaldi^ x86o — Annexation of the 
Two Sicilies^ the Marches and Umbria — Cap~ 
ture of Gaetcty i860 — A View of the Ruins in 
iU\—The''Six Weeks' War,'' 1S66 — A nnexa^ 
Hon of Venice — Garibaldi at Mentana, 1867 — 
Vatican Council, 1869 - '70 — Franco -' Prussian 
War, 1870 -'71 — Liberation of Rome, September 
20, 1870 — Mrs. Goulds Literary Labors — Hopes 
of Vsefulneet at Rome, 

)T needs a moment's retrospect to remind us of what a 
magnificent movement of history Mrs. Gould had 
been witness during her fifteen years* residence at 

The year previous to her departure from America — the 
year 1859 — was the year of the war of Austria against 
Sardinia, in which France under Napoleon III. joined 
the weaker party, and in a brilliant two months* campaign, 
made illustrious by the battles of Montebello, Magenta, 
and Solferino, drove the Austrians from Lombardy, and 


Contemporary History. 125 

annexed it to the Sardinian crown. Simultaneously with 
the outbreak of this war, came the revolution in Tuscany 
and the flight of the Grand Duke, resulting *in the an- 
nexation of this splendid and historic provinQe, also, to 
the dominions of Victor Emmanuel, and the inauguration 
of the kingdom of Italy under a free Constitution . 

In the spring of i860, the insurrection in Sicily broke 
out, and the news that electrified the party of travelers as 
they landed from the steamer at Havre at the end of May, 
was that Garibaldi had entered Palermo in triumph at the 
head of his handful of red-shirts. A few weeks later the 
epidemic of insurrection had spread to the city of Naples; 
the king of the. Two Sicilies ran away from his capital; 
and on the 8th of September, Garibaldi entered the city, 
and holding up his forefinger before the crowd, in symbol 
of Italia Uruiy announced that the whole peninsula of 
Italy was to be free and united. That year the forces of 
the king of Italy entered the Papal territory, and the Two 
Sicilies, the Marches, and Umbria were annexed to the 
Italian crown. 

When in April, 1861, Mrs. Gould, under Doctor Gould's 
escort, made her first visit to Naples, she stopped on the 
way at Gaeta, where the traces of tremendous fighting 
were only two months old. 

We entered the gate. The scene was tremendous. 
The. whole town was destroyed. Not. a roof is left in 
some parts of the town, and scarcely a whole wall 
standing. Everything is torn to pieces. We saw the 

126 Contemporary History. 

fortification in which the young Rehoboam took ref- 
uge under the casemates where nothing could touch 
him. At the left of the gate are the masses of ruin 
caused by the explosion of the magazine, where the 
houses are almost reduced to dust. The citadel is 
built on a hill overlooking the town, whose founda- 
tion is a mighty rock rising sheer from the depths of 
the Mediterranean. The Piedmontese crept up from 
the hills around Gaeta and threw their bombs into 
the town, and Rehoboam was obliged to leave. We 
went up almost to the top of the hill. The view is 
splendid. The sea, frantic in the wild play of his 
waves, sent the foam in Jong white streaks all over 
the blue of his waters. The promontory of Circe, 
bold and blue and beautiful, stretched along beyond 
us to the north-. The islands of Ponza and Palmarola 
and Zannone, with the larger ones of Ischia and Capri, 
lie along the horizon. A few boats in sight are toss- 
ing in J:he play of the waves. The Pontine Marshes 
stretch away in the distance. Gaeta itself, with its 
fortifications, its churches and its towers, lie beneath 
us, and the great rock on which we stand rises like a 
giant, lifting its head defyingly to the waves which 
scream and roar and leap at its feet. The mountains 

fill ^up the picture in the background The 

sight of the many fortifications kept up for the pur- 
pose of enslaving the people, now fallen into the 
hands of the people themselves, filled us with great 
delight, and Viva Verdi^ was the cry of our hearts. 
We were full of the thought of Garibaldi and his no- 

* Viva F-ittorio ^-mmanuele 7?-e D* /-lalia. 

Contemporary History. 127 

ble band. We saw his determined followers step by 
step approaching Gaeta, shutting up the tyrant within 
its walls, destroying one after another of its defenses, 
day by day besieging it closer, until the end was ac- 
complished, the king fled, and Naples was free. 

The capture of Gaeta took place in February, i860. 
There was outward peace for more than two years, until 
the unsanctioned expedition of Garibaldi, starting in the 
summer of 1862, on the island of Sicily, but aimed at 
Rome. He was met at Aspromonte in Catania, defeated, 
wounded, and taken prisoner by the troops of Victor Em- 

What chapter, in what we so absurdly call ** profane " 
history, more plainly manifests a divine work, than that 
which tells the story of the liberation and unification of 
Italy .? It went forward so steadily, though sometimes so 
slowly and disco uragingly to eager hearts, and all the while 
it was nobody's plan and nobody's doing. The Pope him- 
self began it in 1846. Then "The Revolution" (they al- 
ways speak of this on the Continent of Europe as a per- 
son) took it up. The House of Savoy was forced into the 
leadership of it in spite of itself. France gave it a mighty 
forward lift in '59, and then tried to stop it. Garibaldi 
would fain have pushed the work through at once, but 
Italy interfered to prevent him, and made compact with 
France to move down to Florence as capital, and hold the 
status quo. Then came the " Six Weeks' War " in ^d^^ in 
which Italy acquired Venice by getting beaten, and France 
and the Prussians combined to consummate the acquisi- 

128 Contemporary History. 

tion. Once more, in '67, Garibaldi Came within sight of 
Rome, but he was beaten back by the Pope's mercenaries, 
and the effect was only to fortify the Papal power more 
strongly than ever in Rome. The final result was to come 
**not by might nor by power.** The Pope himself must 
give the signal for his own overthrow. Catholic France, 
which had first promoted Italian unity, and then opposed 
it, was at length, by opposing, to accomplish it. War levied 
in the interest of the Papacy was to result in its downfall; 
and as the confederacy between France and Prussia had 
liberated Venice, so the conflict between the same powers 
was to be the emancipation of Rome. Among men, noth- 
ing but cross-purposes and changeful schemes. Provi- 
dence seemed bent on upsetting the calculations of able 
editors and "making diviners mad.** And all the time the 
divine plan, now so plainly manifest by the event, kept un- 
folding from year to year, until it v/as consummated in the 
unbroken unity and the well-ordered freedom of the new 

' After the tremendous events of 1866, Mrs. Gould was 
continually looking forward to the time when there should 
be freedom at Rome — liberty for her to do her own chosen 
and delightful work in helping, comforting, and teaching 
neglected and ignorant children. Her work at Florence; 
in aiding the " Orfanotrofio ** there, was wrought in hope 
of larger and better opportunities of like work at her own 
beloved home. It would have been a sorry record to say 
of her that she did nothing but wait for better times. Iii 
the day of small things and few things, she did heartily and 

Contemporary History. 12 9 

to the Lord what things her hand found to do, and looked 
forward not in vain lo the fulfillment of the promise that is 
given to those that are faithful in few things. 

It was with a view to her present and prospective work 
that — as events multiplied, and especially as the assem- 
bling of the portentous Council of the Vatican drew near — 
she undertook a vast amount of literary labor. Considered 
in connection with her frail health, with her time-consum- 
ing social duties, and with studies in art and history which 
were never intermitted, and most of which were recorded, 
for her own private benefit, in analyses of books and lec- 
tures, minutely careful descriptions of paintings, and de- 
tailed accounts of local archaeology, the amo\tnt of liter- 
ary work which she began now to contribute for the press 
is very remarkable. The series of six articles which she 
contributed to Hours at Home, under the title, ** Rambles 
among the Italian Hills," were written as early as 1865. 
From these, considerable extracts have been made in ah 
earlier chapter. But about 1869 she began a series of 
contributions for the Overland Monthly , and became the 
regular correspondent of the New York Observer^ the 
Hartford Churchman, the Advance of Chicago, and the 
New York Evening Post, Her letters were not carefully 
preserved by her; but the imperfect files that remain, 
taken together with the copying-books in which much of 
her original manuscript is preserved in duplicate, show a 
prodigious facility in literary production, united with a 
prodigious industry. How good her literary work was, 

the readers of this book have. some means of judging; 

130 Contemporary History. 

but that which was done for the public was no whit better, 
either in substance or in neatness of finish, than the vo- 
luminous pages which she wrote for her own satisfaction 
and improvement. 

She watched the Council almost through to its close, 
reporting its proceedings, so far as they transpired, to the 
various journals with which she was corresponding. A 
minute outside-history of this remarkable gathering could 
be made up from these letters ; but it would not be more 
valuable than the journals of most newspaper correspond- 
ents, except as the writer's familiarity with various circles 
of Roman society gave her some advantages of observa- 
tion. The History of General Councils, as hitherto writ- 
ten, gives us only uncertain glimpses of the history of the 
Lobby, which, nevertheless, has always been of prime con- 
sequence, in these assemblies, from the days of Nicaea to 
this present. A single paragraph from a letter of April 
15, 1870, shows us some of the lobby-relations of the 
Council of the Vatican. 

Among the most devout admirers of the Pope and 
the Council are a number of the old ladies — the ma- 
triarchs — of the oldest and wealthiest families resid- 
ing in Rome. They are generally French or Italians, 
but may be Germans. They are all of the oldest of 
the old families, tracing their lineage directly to Ben- 
hadad or Tiglath-Pileser, and call the Bourbons 
nouveaux riches^ although they believe in them as 
kings and well-meaning people. Their salons are the 
resort of Messeigneurs, the Fathers of the Council, 


Contemporary History. 131 

who lounge on their sofas nightly, are consoled from 
their snuff-boxes, and answer them sigh for sigh, over 
the good old times. I am sorry to say that while 
refreshed with their eau sucr^ and country wine, and 
asJsiduously waited on by their willing hands, the 
Fathers of the Council laugh good-naturedly at them, 
and the journals, both cismontane and ultramontane, 
make impertinent remarks about them. These latter 
declare that they have set up a private altar; that 
when the real fathers of the true council are holding 
their assemblies, these " monthly nurses " hold theirs ; 
that they have their " postulates," their " general con- 
gre'gations," and their committees, and that they are 
generally "the monkeys of Domineddio." The last 
word, although it is compounded of two words only 
applied to the Deity, is used greatly by the Italians, 
without intentional irreverence. But the sarcasm of 
the phrase as. applied to these female busybodies is 

I attended a little matriarchal and patriarchal ses-" 
sion the other day ; at least I was in company with 
several of the good fathers and their lady adorers. 
Of course nothing is so interesting to them all as the 
Council ; and as far as it was proper in a mixed as- 
sembly, the conversation turned very much in that 
direction. The fathers present were of both the 
great parties, but all agreed that the dogma was sure 
to be proclaimed, and the anti-infallibilists present 
had all ceased to oppose it or to append amendments 
to it. They all, I found, also agreed in the fact of its 
great importance, and that politically. A theologian 
of one of the great infallibilist lights, thought that it 

132 Contemporary History. 

would produce a great effect on Italian politics. His 
argument I give as nearly as possible in his own 
words : " The first practical consequence of the pro- 
clamation of the dogma ought to be the dismember- 
ment of the kingdom of Italy, and the return of the 
alienated provinces to their old sovereigns/' 

This learned doctor, among his gifts and accomplish- 
ments, can not, in the light of later events, claim to num- 
ber the gift of prophecy. The lady that listened to him 
had a keener foresight. She wrote, July 4, 1870 : 

The Pope's spiritual children have done their ut- 
most to preserve for him his temporal as well as his 
spiritual power ; but the Fourth of July has come to 
him as it came to England. The slavery of his peo- 
ple is sure to end. Day has already dawned for them. 
The public session will probably take place on the 
17th. The people will cry, " It is the voice of a God 
and not of a man." The relics of St. Peter will be dis- 
lodged from the confessional and laid upon the high 
altar. All the bells of all the churches in Rome are 
to ring as that poor old man takes his place in the 
seat of his Master. A hundred and one guns will be 
fired from the Aventine and Janiculum hills, and 
from the Castle of St. Angelo. And an unseen hand 
will v/rite on the walls of the Vatican, " Mene, Mene, 
Tekel, Upharsin." 

By the time this letter had reached its destination, the 
editor of the Observer was able to add, in brackets, *' All 
which has come to pass." 

Contemporary History. 133 

The intense heats of the Roman July, on which the 
Pope relied to bring his refractory bishops to terms, drove 
the most zealous of correspondents into the neighboring 
hills. Mrs. Gould withdrew to her familiar and favorite 
retreat of Perugia, and thence to the heights of the Enga- 
dine. No exile from Rome, among all her patriots, could 
have watched the tremendous march of events with more 
affectionate anxiety than did this adopted daughter of the 
Eternal City. At the first news that Rome was free, she 
started toward her hpme. " It was in vain," she writes, 
" that we tried to keep our steps from Italy another hour. 
The grand events which were occurring there were too 
important. Rome is too dear to us. We could not re- 
main at a distance which forbade the daily receipt of 
telegrams. If possible, we should have gone to Rome at 
once. But no strangers were allowed to enter." She 
gathered all the details of the liberation of the city, and 
wrote them thus to the Churchman : 

On the morning of the 20th [September, 1870,] the 
Italians surrounded the city from the Porta Pia to 
the Porta San Giovanni. A division took up its 
position at the Porta San Pancrazio. At five o'clock 
the first guns were fired at the Porta Pia. The barri- 
cades were taken, a breach made in the v/all and in 
the gate itself, and a little after nine o'clock Rome 
had become the capital of Italy. 

. The scene was indescribable. The blood of Roman 
heroes and exiles flowed beneath the gate before it 
was opened. A young man by the name of Valen- 

134 Contemporary History. 

ziani, long a homesick exile from the city of his birth, 
although ill and unfit for the fatigues of battle, in- 
sisted upon being one of the gallant besiegers of the 
gates of Rome. On the other side were his family, 
whom he had not seen for eleven years. Ten min- 
utes after he fell the gates were open. His friends 
came to welcome him. He had " died without the 
sight." Four other Roman exiles, more happy than 
this young patriot, first passed through the Porta Pia. 
A few moments after, a Pontifical dragoon approached 
with a white flag. He was followed by the diplomatic 
corps, escorted by dragoons. The white flag soon 
streamed from the cupola of St. Peter's, the cam- 
panile of St. Maria Maggiore, and the Castle of St. 
Angelo. In an hour or two they were exchanged for 
the tricolor, which floated as if by magic all over the 

I do not tell you of the reception of the troops in 
other portions of the Papal States. It was most ex- 
citing. The inhabitants of little villages and hamlets 
all ceased their labors, and came out to meet their 
liberators. Singing, dancing, weeping, embracing each 
other, and falling into the arms of the soldiers, who 
were bringing Italy and liberty to Rome. The poor 
hidden haters of the Vatican who had so long borne 
its yoke, fainting although so pitifully patient, seemed 
wild with joy. At every moment arrived Roman ex- 
iles, some who for long years had never seen the dome 
of St. Peter's, and were \inspeakably happy as they 
saw it swinging in the horizon, and knew that they 
should soon stand under its shadow. 

The whole of Italy — united at last — sends forth 

Contemporary History, 135 

the cry, " Come over and help us," to the Christian 
world. Redeemed Rome is free as a field to the la- 
borers. The field is white for the harvest. Who will 
aid us in making these freedmen free in Christ Jesus ? 

Through the eventful days that followed, Mrs. Gould 
was part of the time at Rome and part at Florence 
— the two centers of public interest. The following let- 
ter, written from Rome early in 187 1, under the title, 
*' Everybody Excommunicated and Inundated," mentions 
some of the more notable events with which the "jf^nnus 
Mirabilis," 1870, had concluded : 

We are in a dreadful state in Rome just now. 
Everybody is ipso facto excommunicated. We have 
a prince and princess in a palace sacred as the 
holy house of Loretto, an ambassador of that main- 
stay and dependence of the Papacy, William of Ger- 
many, who pays a visit to the said bandits and out- 
casts. We have holy cannon sent from Belgium to 
kill the Pope's enemies, which thunder forth salvos 
when these princely usurpers enter the holy city. We 
have house-room given to the said guns in a villa 
claimed by a chamberlain of the Pope. We have a 
king who comes to Rome to help drowning people, 
and who goes into the holy house to rest a few hours. 
And, worse than all, we have a community which 
approves ofj^all these iniquities, floats its banners, 
gets up torch-light processions, flings bouquets, in- 
dulges in prolonged vivas until its throat is sore, and 
refuses to weep with the prisoners of the Vatican. 
This is the condition of things in Rome at present, 

136 Contemporary History, 

and holy wrath is the order of exercises. Cardinal 
Antonelli has issued his nine hundred and ninety- 
ninth note to the Papal representatives on the sub- 
ject of the king's having visited the city. I have 
read the document with much care, and in two lan- 
guages. I can see no possible object in writing it, 
except for the purpose of uttering an immense false- 
hood ; namely, that the king met with a cool recep- 
tion here. The fact is, simply, that the Romans went 
mad. They had a delirium of joy. His Majesty 
arrived about half-past three in the morning, and no 
creature was allowed to sleep from long before that 
time, until an hour after he had finally shut himself 
out of their sight for a little rest. They shouted, 
the- '.'^^eamed, they danced, they sang, they waved 
P/ . Ay marched in procession, they laughed, they 

?d, and they did it all over again. They met him 
at the station, and accompanied him to the Quirinal ; 
lit up the streets through which he passed ; almost 
deafened him with a roar of vivas ; waited outside 
the Quirinal after his entrance until he twice came 
out to answer their salutations ; and after they had 
been persuaded to retire that his Majesty might re- 
pose a few hours after his journey, kept up their 
shouts and demonstrations of joy elsewhere, almost 
until daylight. During his drive through the city 
the next day, the king received the same ovation, 
and half of Rome accompanied him to the station 
when he left in the evening. If this was a cool re- 
ception, we only hope his Majesty may never have 
a hot one. 

I have been prevented from writing as soon as I 

Co7itemporary History, 137 

should have done, by my absence from Rome on a 
visit to Florence ; and have not yet told you how 
the dreadful inundation which reduced so many hun- 
dreds to poverty occurred. The spectacle was a fear- 
ful one. More than half the city was invaded by the 
Tiber, which poured itself in torrents and rivers 
through the city. From the Pincio the view was the 
strangest imaginable. The houses, washed by the 
strange, sullen waives of the river, arose like those of 
Venice, excepting that the lower story was invisible. 
The base of the obelisk in the Piazza del Popolo was 
entirely covered ; the heads of the lionesses were 
alone visible, and they plunged hither and thither 
with the motion of the current, as if not knowing 
where to bear the huge towering edifice Ke-Kich 
they seemed yoked. St. Peter's and the^ . as thn 
were reflected in the watery waste which stretc^in- 
beside them. The Campagna, which has so often 
been compared to a sea, was one indeed ; stranded 
amid whose bosom were farm-houses and contadinos' 
cabins.jk Boats and rafts sailed slowly through the 
streets, carrying provisions or removing persons whose 
houses were in danger from the devouring element. 
All this was a sight most interesting and most won- 
derful. But the scenes presented in the neighbor- 
hood of the Vatican, in the Via Ripetta, about the 
Pantheon, and especially in the Ghetto, were fearful. 
The inhabitants were stupefied with the extent of 
their misfortune. The children were crying with 
fright and disqomfort. The women were shrieking 
for bread or loudly lamenting their ruin. The men 
sat crouched, silently, wherever they found shelter, 

138 Contemporary History. 

careless both of the present and future, paralyzed by 
the dreadful misfortune which* had come upon them. 
Their little all was swept away in a moment. Many 
of them were asleep when the first wave broke over 
the city, and had just time to escape with their lives ; 
first by ladders to the first story, and then by boats, 
as the waters invaded them there, to other parts of the 
city. (I should remind your readers that the lower floor 
is called here piano terreno, the ground floor ; and that 
the stories are only numbered from the one above it). 
Happily, the weather was very warm, so that few had 
gone to bed, and the men of the Trastevere, the Via 
Ripetta, etc., were sitting in their doors, or standing 
about the streets when the wave broke, so that they 
were able to aid in the rescue of their families. All that 
night the citizens labored, removing those in danger 
to places of safety. All the next day they labored 
again, carrying provisions to those imprisoned by the 
flood. The National Guard, especially, did yeoman 
service. Some of our own country people were 
among those who were imprisoned and fed from the 
boats under their windows. A regular service was 
arranged. A depot was established at the Monte 
Citorio, whence great fourgons carried provisions as 
far as horses could go. and then the baskets and ham- 
pers were placed in the boats and rafts which awaited 
them. The American physician had to make his vis- 
its by water, and from the boats was carried up the 
stairs on the shoulders of stout men, who made a 
comfortable penny by operations of this kind. In 
this way the artists in the Corso and elsewhere got into 
and out of their apartments. The water in certain 

Contemporary History, 139 

parts of the city floated oil, wine, vegetables, meat, 
fish, animals, grain, and a heterogeneous mixture im- 
possible to describe. In the Corso the wreck was 
frightful. Show-cases were dashed to atoms, and 
they and their contents ground together, sailed out 
of the stores into the street, and went to form the 
wonderful torrent which dashed relentlessly toward 
the Capitol. In a few hours silks, velvets, ribbons, 
flowers and satins, photographs, paper and pictures, 
were heaps of pulp and rubbish, afterward carried 
away in cart-loads, leaving broken shelves and dis- 
colored walls only where had been elegant stores full 
of magnificent goods. 

And in the midst of all this ruin and alarm arrived 
Victor Emmanuel, to see for himself the sufferings of 
his people and provide for them. As he said when 
the authorities warmly welcomed him to his new cap- 
ital, in answer to their thankful acknowledgments: 
" Ah ! I came as soon as I could.'* No wonder that 
the city was awakened from its slumbers by the cries 
of delight with which he was greeted, and half Rome 
rushed into the streets to follow him to the Quirinal 
at half-past three o'clock in the morning. He was 
greatly overcome with the enthusiasm which greeted 
him on his arrival and accompanied his drive through 
the city the next day. At the Capitol he signed an 
order for 200,000 lire ($40,000), to be distributed to the 
sufferers. Then laying down his pen, he ordered his 
carriage to be sent around, and passing through the 
thousands who were waiting about the square, went 
down the stairs beside the Ara Coeli on foot, amid 
such applause as has seldom been heard in old Rome. 

140 Contemporary History. 


From the illumination which suddenly broke over the 
city at his arrival, to the serenade with which he was 
accompanied to the station, the whole visit of his 
Majesty was one long ovation. Ah ! what a splendid 
checkmate it was to Pius IX., who shut himself up in 
his prison of eleven thousand rooms ! What a con- 
trast to the conduct of the prince cardinals, the de- 
scendants of the seventy disciples, not one of whom 
was to be seen aiding those whom they call their sub- 
jects in their hour of need ! 

And now we have with us the young heir and heir- 
ess to the throne, who have taken possession of the 
palace of the Quirinal, drive daily on the Pincio, re- 
ceive constantly those who wish to be presented to 
them, visit at the houses of the Roman nobility, visit 
also the schools and benevolent institutions of Rome, 
and in every way behave in perfect contrast to a cer- 
tain John Mastai. It is the fashion to be papaline ; 
to sympathize with the "good old man" in question. 
• This fashion prevails among some of the most elegant 
among our English and American visitors, although I 
do not find that it prevents their applying to be re- 
ceived by the Princess Margherita, or endeavoring to 
gain admittance into the salons of the liberal Ro- 
man princes ; and to tell the truth, I have very little 
respect for the honesty of these Papal Protestants, 
and less for their good taste. The Roman families 
who close their houses, refuse to drive upon the Pin- 
cio, or assume mourning with the Papal court, are at 
least consistent in their behavior. 

In her correspondence of this period, Mrs. Gould shows 

Contemporary History. 141 

a constant interest in the religious prospects of her home. 
Being absolutely without the petty zeal of those whose re- 
ligious earnestness is identified with propagating a sect and 
making proselytes, she shared at first the generous illusions 
of those who looked for some movement of reformation 
to originate within the pale of the Roman Church ; she 
watched with eager interest the cautious demonstrations 
of the group of "Old Catholics" in Germany, and the ar- 
dent, but solitary protests of Father Hyacinthe in France. 
Whatever there was of a genuine, religious " liberal Cathol- 
icism** in. Rome or Florence, was naturally drawn to her. 
And if she was in advance of some of the rest of us in giv- 
ing up the expectation of any practical outcome from this 
direction, it was not that she was less cordially hopeful, 
but that she had better opportunities of knowledge and a 
keener insight. 

The missions that multiplied in Rome after the liber- 
ation, representing various Christian denominations, all 
found in her a cordial friend. Especially that touching 
"revenge of history*' when the poor, humble Waldensian 
churches took their place among the evangelists of Rome> 
won her warmest sympathy. 

But all the time her knowledge of the time and the peo- 
ple, and that inborn love for poor children that had marked 
her character from her own childhood up, was impelling 
her toward another enterprise as most hopeful of good for 
the Roman people. 


1870 — 1 8/ 1. 

Beginning the Italo^American Schools — A Six 
Months^ Report — Dense Ignorance at Rome — 
Conflicts with Religious Intolerance — A bduction 
of a Girl — The First Roman Kindergarten — An 
International Christmas Tree— A Sunday-school 
— Patriotic Little Romans— The Planting 0/ the 

a FEW weeks after the beginning of that work in 
Rome which was to be the crowning work of her 
life, Mrs. Gould wrote the story of how the be- 
ginning was made. 

In the old days, when our hands were tied in 
Rome, we were in the habit of laying before our 
friends who came to us in their European wanderings, 
the needs of a school and an orphan house for girls, 
established in Florence. As we begged them to aid 
us in taking care of these noble institutions, I re- 
member often saying to them, " I cast my bread upon 
the Arno, hoping after many days to find it upon the 
Tiber." When the events of the 20th of September 

One Years Work in Rome. 143 

had occurred, we came down to Rome, from a visit 
to the Waldensian valleys, to find, indeed, the bread 
we had cast upon the Arno, awaiting us upon the 
Tiber. Bibles were sold upon the very spot where, a 
few years before, they were burned. The Gospel was 
openly preached ; no man forbidding. The books of 
the lamented De Sanctis were bought with great 
avidity, by his Roman fellow-citizens ; the New Tes- 
tament was freely read to those who could not read 
for themselves ; and, in short. Pope, as he could in no 
other wise fulfill Bunyan's vision, had shut himself m 
his cage, whence he glared on the pilgrims, but could 
no more do them harm. All this was very delightful ; 
but to civilize and Christianize a community, you 
must begin with the young. This is especially the 
case in Rome, where woman occupies so low a place 
in the social scale, and is so entirely under the domin- 
ion of the priests, and where the men are, so many 
of them, infidel in their notions. We hoped that a 
school would at once be started, which we could aid ; 
but no one took hold of such an enterprise, and when 
I attempted it, I could not find in all Rome a proper 
Italian female teacher. Nor did friends at home or 
friends abroad put funds into my hands — as I had 
hoped they would — to aid in hastening on the new 
day which had dawned upon Rome. 

At length, utterly discouraged, with fifty francs in 
my pocket, and no teacher to aid me, I decided to go 
forward alone, and open a school on the 20th of 
March. The Vaudois clergyman kindly allowed me 
the use of the rooms where his services are held 
— a most convenient and comfortable suite of apart- 

144 ^^^ years Work in Rome. 

ments. Three children, whose parents attend the 
Vaudois (Waldensian) church, were my first pupils. 
In the course of the day, two others were brought to 
me by an American lady ; and in the course of the 
week the same lady brought me four more. The 
next week the school had grown very decidedly, and 
at its close numbered twenty-two children ; on the ist 
of May, thirty were present. 

The school having been begun on the 20th of March, 
its first six months terminated on the memorable anniver- 
sary of the 20th of September. On that date Mrs. Gould 
printed for circulation among her personal friends and 
others whom she might hope to interest in her work, a full 
account of what she was doing, and of the methods by 
which she was doing it. These details are of double in- 
terest now, as showing both the work and the character ot 
its founder and promoter — her administrative talent, her 
shrewd good sense ; her tenderness of sentiment without 
sentimentality ; her Christlikeness of heart and purpose, 
manifest alike in the work that she did, and the cant that 
she avoided. 

When children are presented for admission, we ex- 
plain clearly to the parents that they are to receive 
no pecuniary aid, that the children must be sent reg- 
ularly, that we have no holidays excepting the Sat- 
urday, and that personal cleanliness is a sine qua nan. 
Where the mother's appearance is slatternly, or there 
is an evident wish merely to get the child out of the 
way, without any real desire for its improvement, we 

One Years Work in Rome. 145 

refuse to receive it. If we were not strict in these 
regards, a perfect panorama of children would be 
continually passing in and out of our school-room, 
and our time would be almost altogether lost. In 
some instances, the same mother and child have pre- 
sented themselves several times; on each occasion, 
with a slight improvement in their appearance. A 
little more soap and water had been used, a few 
stitches taken here and there, until finally a hopeful 
little subject was ready for admission. 

The first business after seeing that the children 
were brought clean, was to engage their affections. 
Poor little things ! they were so ready to be loved. 
But in order to show them that we really did care for 
them, it was necessary to avoid all shrinking from 
poor, diseased, deformed little bits of humanity, such 
as many of them were. No brushing away of little 
hands that sought your own ; no untwining of little 
arms that wished to clasp your neck, or refusal of lit- 
tle lips that sought your hand or even your face. 
How often have I thought of the lesson our Sav- 
iour must have meant to teach us, when he took the 
little ones in his arms before he blessed them. Per- 
haps it was the caress that made the blessing precious 
to the infants who could not understand the words, 
but comprehended the tenderness by which they were 

For the first few days we were busied in finding 
out what the children knew, and trying to teach them 
to think. We soon discovered that they knew no- 
thing. Not one of them could tell the days of the 
week, the months of the year, or the year in which 

146 One Years Work in Rome. 

they were living. They had not the slightest idea of 
geography, history, or the elements of natural philos- 
ophy. Some of them could spell words of one or 
even two syllables, but had never received a single 
idea from anything they had read. One boy wrote 
beautifully, but could not read a word of writing. 
As to their religious instruction, I can not say that I 
ever examined them in the lives of the saints, but 
one day I told them the story of the birth of our Sav- 
iour ; I went into all the details : telling them of the 
star in the East, and the journey of the wise men ; 
of the songs of the angels, and the worship of the 
shepherds ; of the wicked king Herod ; the murder 
of the innocents, and the flight into Egypt. They 
listened with great intere^, and when I had finished, 
I said, "Tell me, my children, who v/as this little 
baby?'* Not one of them knezv. 

Perhaps a few details with regard to the manner of 
conducting the school may be interesting. The door 
is opened some twenty minutes before the school 
commences, by a woman who keeps the rooms in 
order, attends to the children while eating, and 
teaches them to knit and sev/. Each child has a com- 
fortable little chair, and aprons are provided to cover 
torn frocks and jackets. At the hour for commen- 
cing the school, the directress or one of the Vaudois 
clergymen is always present, and the children are 
seated. The door is closed, and each child placing 
its little chair before it, kneels, and we repeat the 
Lord's prayer together. They then repeat certain 
texts of Scripture which we have taught them, and 
receive a lesson in the life of our Saviour. They 

One Years Work in Rome. 147 

have also begun to learn the Ten Commandments. 
With these exercises, are interspersed the learning 
and singing of Italian hymns, most of which are 
translated from our own. One feature of this first 
hour which interests them very much is the learning 
to sing some of our simplest English hymns. Their 
ear is very true, and they learn to pronounce our 
strange sounds with great readiness. Of course, great 
pains are taken to make them understand the mean- 
ing of each word. Our language is very necessary to 
the servants, work-people, and mechanics of Rome, 
and a course of thorough instruction in it will be 
commenced this winter. After an hour or an hour 
and a half spent in this way, the little ones spell and 
sing the syllables, Ba, Be, Bi, Bo, Bu, Da, De, etc. 
This exercise aids them very much in learning to 
read. Meanwhile the older children are preparing 
tables, removing chairs, placing books and copy- 
books, and reading, writing, and drawing go on for 
some three-quarters of an hour. Lessons in geogra- 
phy, natural philosophy^ arithmetic, grammar, and 
history follow, with another reading and writing les- 
son. An intermission of an hour occurs at noon, 
during which they eat and amuse themselves. We 
had to teach them to play, for Italian children know 
no games. We make use of Froebel's play and 
others, for them, let them march, or send the little 
ones to a game of ball after they have been occupied 
at their lessons for an hour or two. 

Italian children are very docile, so that we have 
been obliged to make use of but little punishment. 
They knew of nothing but blows, and often when I 

148 One Years Work in Rome. 

attempted to draw a child to me to talk to it of some 
little naughtiness of which it had been guilty, it 
would shrink back, and try to cover its little face and 
head. I was obliged to tell them that they were 
never to be beaten at school. The brutality to which 
they had been subjected had produced its legitimate 
effect, and they were always ready to strike and kick 
each other. We had to teach them that putting them 
into a corner or into the next room was a punish- 
ment, and when they had learned this, the desired 
effect was almost always produced at once. One lit- 
tle boy who would not learn this lesson had his 
hands lied behind him with a handkerchief for five 
minutes, which brought about great grief and entire 
reformation. In every instance, punishment has pro- 
duced a pleasant effect upon the child's temper, seem- 
ing often to awaken intelligence and affection in a 
surprising degree. We have a system of black and 
red marks. A certain number of the latter entitles a 
child to a ticket on Sunday. For four of these a 
certificate is given, and every certificate entitles the 
child to put a penny into a box for the Orphan 
Asylum at Florence. There are some children who 
never fail to receive their tickets at the Sunday- 
school, or to put in their penny once a month for the 
orphans. The Sunday-school is regularly attended 
by about sixty children. The instruction given is the 
same as that of the first morning hour of the day- 
school. We have, however, for the Sunday-school a 
few pictures illustrative of Bible History, presented 
to us by an English lady, with which we interest our 
little ones. For the winter, we shall be able, through 

One Years Work in Rome. 149 

the kindness of our friends at home, to increase the 
number of these. We shall also form the older boys 
and girls into a sort of Bible class. Until now, they 
have been taught together, as they were all equally 
ignorant of Bible truth. 

I can not but say of the Roman children that they 
are docile not only, but fond of learning, clever, af- 
fectionate, and appreciative of what is done for them. 
On one or two occasions, when something new has 
been introduced, they have burst out simultaneously 
into applause, clapping their little hands with all their 
might. The want of truth which prevails in Italy is 
one of our greatest troubles. But we are, we hope, 
succeeding in teaching our children something of the 
beauty of perfect truthfulness. I was very much de- 
lighted with an instance which showed how perfectly 
this lesson had been learned by one of our first 
scholars. The class in geography which was reciting 
with the teacher, all missed the capital of Spain. He 
called a little girl from another class to him, and put 
the question to her. She answered, as he supposed, 
correctly, and he repeated the answer, praising her, 
and ordered her a red mark. The little girl stood 
still a minute, and then faltered out, ** But I did not 
say Madrid." Sometimes we are wonderfully struck 
with their appreciation of what they are learning. A 
little baby-thing who was only received to gratify a 
friend, as he seemed too young to learn anything, has 
a remarkable ear for music. The children were sing- 
ing one morning to the tune, " I want to be an 
angel,'* Italian words, descriptive of the Good Shep- 
herd with his lambs : " I am a little lamb, Jesus is my 

150 One Yearns Work in Rome. 

Shepherd/* * etc. This little fellow ran up to me, and 
putting his hands on my lap, said, ** Lady, am I a lit- 
tle lamb ? " " Indeed you are, my darling," I replied. 
He ran back to his seat, and long after the children 
had done singing, his clear little voice rang out, " I 
am a little lamb, Jesus is my Shepherd." Was there 
ever a more beautiful infant's profession of faith ! 

The school was commenced as an infant-school. It 
has now girls of seventeen and boys of fifteen 
among its pupils, and we have a class of twelve who 
are being fitted to pass the Government examination 
as teachers in the municipal schools. There are over 
eighty pupils in the school, and ere this letter reaches 
America, there will be a hundred. It is impossible 
to stop where we now are. This winter we shall open 
a Kindergarten, which will, I hope, number at least a 
hundred children. 

Six months ago to-day the school was begun. To- 
day a large number of its members have finished their 
primary course, and several children ten and twelve 

* " lo sono im agnellino ; 

Trovato dal pastor ; 
Un povero bambino, 

Salvato dal Sign or. 
II povero agnellino 

Non conosceva ancor 
II vero buon cammino, 

Che mena al buon pastor. 


" I am a little lamb, found by the Shepherd ; 
A poor child saved by the Lord. 
The poor little lamb did not know 
The right road leading to the Good Shepherd. 


One Years Work in Rome. 151 

years of age are ready to compete with young men 
of seventeen, who have been all their life under in- 
struction. I do not dare to tell in detail the progress 
that some of the pupils have made. Boys and girls 
who did not read a sentence when they came to us, 
are about to commence a course of mathematical 
studies, fully prepared to understand them. It must 
be remembered, however, that study is no task, but 
a delightful pleasure to them. Their countenances 
never fall until the hour for closing the school ap- 
proaches, and the most inattentive child is sure to be 
aroused by the assurance that school is no place for 
idleness, and it may go home if it do not choose to 
be attentive. 

The dense ignorance discovered by Mrs. Gould in the 
children that came under her instruction, was of the same 
aort with that which was reported by Commissioners of 
the Italian Government, as the tesult of inquiries made 
by them soon after the liberation of Rome. The extraor- 
dinary document presented by this Commission was widely 
circulated at the time by the Government as a sort of 
pihe de justification before the public opinion of the world. 
It brought to light ludicrous examples of ignorance, not 
merely among children of the lower classes, but among 
those who had enjoyed the privileges of some of the more 
advanced schools which the clerical government had pro- 
vided for young ladies and gentlemen. When the alumni 
of the better schools of old Rome, being questioned upon 
the great names in Italian history, could answer (for eX' 

152 One Years Work in Rome. 

ample) that Christopher Columbus was another name for 
the Holy Ghost, it is less amazing that the little children 
from the street should be ignorant of the plainest and 
simplest facts in the life of Jesus Christ. If the Report 
were within reach, it might be largely quoted in further 
proof of the spiritual as well as intellectual darkness of 
the people who had lived in the very focus of the light of 
the Roman Catholic Church. 

Some of the results of the census of the new Capital 
taken December 31, 187 1, are given in the work of my 
venerable friend, pastor Gaberel, of Geneva, entitled 
''''Alma Mater: Rome and Christian Civilization." I 
quote from an Italian translation, not having the original 
at hand. It appears that after an experience of that abso- 
lutely exclusive clerical and religious public instruction, 
which is the ideal Roman Catholic method for training up 
the youth of any people, an enormous proportion of the 
people of Rome were confessedly unable either to read 
or to write. Out of 235,484 inhabitants, all above the age 
of childhood were asked whether they could read and 
write, and there answered in the negative, to both parts of 
the question, 112,757 persons. There is reason to believe 
that if the inquiry had been accompanied by a practical 
examination, the number of the " analfabeti ** would have 
been higher still.* 

* Pastor Gaberel adds some interesting details of a visit made 
by him to certain of the public schools, as one of a Committee 
of the Scientific Congress that met at the Capitol in October, 
1873. At one ot these schools, a member of the Committee was 

One Years Work in Rome, 153 

Such a condition of ignorance, in a people so admirably 
gifted as the Romans, must have been the result of some- 
thing worse than negligence or indifference on the part of 
those who combined in the same persons absolute civil 
power and exclusive spiritual influence. It is one of the 
most inexplicable parts of the ** mystery of iniquity " how 
even such a combination as this could succeed, as it did — 
in a nation whose language is absolutely phonographic in 

struck by a certain marked physiognomy among the children, 
and on remarking upon it to the directress, was reminded that 
this school was in the neighborhood of the Ghetto. Whereupon 
the directress turned to the school and said, " Let the Jewish 
children step forward;" and some two-thirds of the scholars 
left their places. The chariman of the Committee, Cavalier 
Sacchi, deeply impressed by the scene, addressed them thus : 
" My dear girls, you are too young to understand the whole 
meaning of what I say ; but never forget to thank God for his 
goodness in permitting you to live and grow up in a free country, 
where law and education are equal for all. Never forget the un- 
happy condition that used to be imposed upon your fathers, and 
show your gratitude to God by profiting diligently by these bene- 
fits." Some of the older girls wept at these words, thinking, 
perhaps, of the days when their fathers, even down to 1870, 
were compelled to supplicate for leave to remain from year to 
year in the eternal city — a permission that must be paid for by a 
heavy tribute to be spent on the carnival frolics. 

Observing a falling-off in the number of scholars above the 
age of twelve, the Committee asked the reason of it, and were 
told that as the age of confirmation approached, the priests re- 
doubled their persuasions and threats, to compel the withdrawal 
of the children from the schools. Secretary Canini informed the 
Committee that one of the devices to accomplish this end, was 
to take the children into a dark underground chapel, and there 
display to them pictures of little children burning in hell-fire. 


154 ^^^ Vear^s Work in Rome. 

the simplicity of its notation, so that the art of reading 
and writing is comprehended in the learning of twenty- 
four letters — in keeping an intelligent people, through gen- 
erations and centuries, unable either to read or to write. 
There are few achievements that better prove the masterly 
ability, in certain directions, of the defunct Roman Gov- 

In a report of the school published in July, 1872, when 
it had entered on its second year, Mrs. Gould was able to 
add to her testimony of the prevailing ignorance of the 
children, the most gratifying testimony of their progress 
under instruction. 

The children come to us utterly ignorant. This is 
true almost without exception. One of the scholars 
we have lately admitted, a fine, well-disposed lad, not 
only could not read a sentence correctly, or write a 
word legibly, but actually did not know his right 
hand from his left. As to history, geography, or the 
elements of natural philosophy, we find all our children 
on first coming to us as ignorant of these subjects as 
new-born babes. It may be well to repeat that with 
this ignorance of book-knowledge, exists that of 
every-day life. The children never have been taught 
the days of the week, the months of the year, the 
names of animals or plants : in short, their minds are 
perfectly blank. 

By careful and repeated oral instruction, however, 
they soon acquire a great deal of general information. 
For the first year we used no books excepting those 
in which they were taught to read. Now the first 

One Years Work in Rome. 155 

and second classes study history and grammar at 
home, and I am preparing for their use a manual of 
English.* Our younger children have, we think, made 
astonishing progress. A class which we had formed 
for the pursuit of studies necessary to fit them for 
teachers in the municipal schools has been greatly 
diminished by our late removal from the Vicolo So- 
derini. We hope, however, in the autumn, from the 
nucleus still remaining with us, and from some of the 
elder and more intelligent of our new pupils, to have 
a large class of this kind organized. Our object will 
always be twofold ; to preserve a high moral and re- 
ligious tone in the school ; and to prepare our pupils 
for their future career in life. To promote this latter 
object, technical instruction will be given as it shall 
become necessary. 

Of course, the schools have met with the greatest 
possible opposition from the ultramontane party. 
While they were small they were despised; but when 
they put on larger proportions, every effort was made 

* ** The Children's Manual for Speaking and Writing the En- 
glish Language. By Emily B. Gould, Directress of the Italo- 
American Schools, Florence, Claudian Press, 1874." "To 
Erminia Fua Fusinato, the sweet songstress, the ardent patriot, 
the devoted woman, this little effort to aid in the great work to 
which she gives her life is affectionately dedicated." It is an in- 
genious contrivance to overcoftie the endless difficulties of our 
English cacography by means of a phonetic notation attached to 
the letters. It had an admirable success, certainly, in the schools 
at Rome ; and its author believed that if used by adult learners 
it would prove that, " in the study of a foreign tongue, as in 
greater things, one should * humble himself and become as a 
little child/ " 

156 One Years Work in Rome, 

to prevent children from attending them. To one 
priest, who was especially active in his opposition to 
the schools, I addressed a note, assuring him that 
the moral and religious character of the institution 
were such as must command the approval of every 
Christian clergyman, and requesting him to visit it ; 
promising him full liberty to examine the books used, 
and be present at the instruction given. I never saw 
the gentleman, or received a reply to my note. Dur- 
ing my absence from Rome last summer, two little 
boys were taken from the school, whose removal 
caused great distress to Signora Gotelli. The younger 
one, a little fellow about five years of age, was an es- 
pecially interesting child, and as happy in his school 
as a little sunbeam. After an absence of three 
months, the little brothers were brought back. I 
made some objections to receiving them again, and 
insisted upon knowing why they had been removed. 
The mother then told me (and her story was fully 
confirmed), that she was taken very ill and was, as 
she supposed, about to die. She sent for the priest, 
who refused to give her absolution unless she took 
her children away from my school. " But," she added, 
"their father never wished them taken av/ay, and 
you may be sure that I shall never listen to the priest 
again." I consented to receive the children, simply 
bidding her tell the priest that my school-room doors 
were always open, and that until he had seen the 
institution for himself, he had no right to speak 
against it. 

The most violent attacks made upon the schools, 
however, do not proceed directly from the priests, 

07ie Years Work in Rome. 157 

but from the " Society for the Promotion of Catholic 
Interests." Our neighbors in the Vicolo Soderini, 
who were members of it, were most venomous in 
their spite, insulting us in the street, on the stairs and 
terrace, calling out from the windows to the mothers 
of the children, ** Renegade,*' " Hypocrite," and 
" Protestant," which latter was of course the most 
opprobrious epithet in their estimation. " Oh ! fine 
Catholics you are," they would say, '* sending your 
children to the school of that excommunicated one." 
On one occasion, some of them mounted the roof, 
which is in a most deplorable state, and commenced 
something which I can only compare to an infernal 
dance. The noise was really frightful. The mortar 
fell about us in a shower, and it seemed as if the ceil- 
ing would come down bodily upon our heads. The 
children, especially the elder ones, were terribly 
alarmed. Their first impulse was to run out of the 
room. It was necessary to prevent this at any cost. 
The larger ones, girls and boys from twelve to six- 
teen years of age, would have knocked down the lit- 
tle ones ; close beside the anteroom were the stairs, 
steep, narrow, cruel, marble steps, down which they 
would have precipitated each other in their flight. 
The gentleman who was assisting me started for the 
police, and for the moment I felt overwhelmed with 
the reflection that I held the lives of ninety human 
beings almost in my hands. A sudden inspiration, 
for which I shall always be thankful, came to me. 
Standing beside the first class, composed of the elder 
children, and holding some of them by force in their 
places, I started a hymn which we often sing at the 

158 One Years Work in Rome. 

opening of the school. It describes the Saviour in 
the storm. First, we have the calm summer day, 
with the idle waves slumbering in the sunshine, and 
the departure of the bark. Then comes the rising 
of the tempest. " Even in a stormy night,** says the 
author, " he who has labored long sleeps sweetly, and 
Jesus lay tranquil " in the midst of the hurricane. 
"Did He perhaps forget His own?" Then there is 
the cry for help to the Saviour, His stilling of the 
tempest, and the loving reproof to the faithless dis- 
ciples. The last verse is the following, the last two 
lines being repeated : 

" Tal sovente nella vita 
La tempesta sorger^ : 
Ma il Signore pront' aita 
Per i suoi provvederi. 
Oh ! poniamo in Lui la speme : 
Viva fede nutra il cor : 
Sempre al misero che geme, 
Sta vicino il Salvator." 

" So, often in life, storms will arise ; but the Lord 
will give ready help to those who call upon Him. 
Ah ! let us put our trust in Him, let our hearts be 
filled with faith. The Saviour is ever near to listen 
to the groans of the miserable." The sweet sounds 
of the young voices, as one after another they fell in 
with mine, at first weak and trembling, but at last 
gaining strength and volume, floated up, and partly 
drowned the diabolical noise of our enemies, and as 
we were singing the last two lines it almost ceased, 
probably because its authors supposed they had been 
unsuccessful in their attempt to frighten the poor 

One Years Work in Rome, 159 

« ■ ... 

children. But I shall never think it was chance which 
led me to begin the singing of that hymn. 

The next attack made upon the school by the 
members of this Society, came from persons in a dif- 
ferent position in life. It occurred during the ab- 
sence of the directress at Naples. Among the girls 
of our first class, was one whose parents had been 
ruined by the late inundation of the Tiber. She was 
very wild when she first came to us, but had grad- 
ually yielded to the kind but firm discipline we try to 
exercise, and had become exceedingly attached to 
her school and teachers. During my absence, certain 
noble ladies presented themselves to the mother of 
this child, a woman naturally feeble, and who has 
suffered much both in body and mind since her 
troubles of last year. These ladies told her that she 
was being punished by God for her sin in placing her 
children at the Italo-American schools, which were 
represented as sinks of iniquity (I should here men- 
tion that for months, most outrageous falsehoods had 
been circulated about the institution, of which we 
knew~nothing until the events took place which I am 
about to narrate) ; but the new friends of the poor 
woman in question were ready to come to her relief. 
Her ** padrone di casa," who was about to raise her 
rent, should be induced to be lenient, and above all, 
her daughter should be well provided for, if she 
would but follow their counsel. They would place 
her in an excellent seminary, w^here she would be 
brought up with young ladies, receive a thorough 
education, and on leaving the institution be presented 
with a dowry. The mother persuaded the father to 

i6o 07te Year's Work in Rome. 

allow her to accept the fine offers of these ladies, and 
the child, by their recommendation, was told herself, 
and directed to say at school, that she was to be taken 
to Florence. All went on as well as the zealous 
members of " The Society for the Promotion of Cath- 
olic Interests " could have desired. The child, who 
could not otherwise have been persuaded to leave 
her school, was consoled with the idea of a change, 
and of visiting an aunt to whom she is attached. The 
teachers at the school were thoroughly deceived, and 
so also was the poor mother. For when the carriage, 
in which the noble ladies came for their prize, left the 
humble door of her parents, they neither directed its 
steps to the railroad station as the child had ex- 
pected, nor to an institution of learning as the moth- 
er had supposed, but to a house of correction under 
the charge of the nuns of St. Agatha. Here then, 
in company with far from repentant Magdalenes, this 
poor girl went through experiences, which, while they 
are quite too shocking to repeat, could never have 
been invented by a young girl not yet thirteen years 
of age. The poor child was of course very unhappy, 
but as she was never allowed to see her mother alone, 
there seamed no hope of escape. At last she was 
advised, I may not say by whom, but of course by 
an inmate of the convent, to tell the story of her life 
there to her mother in the presence of the attending 
nun. She did so, and the poor distracted woman ran 
for her husband. It was in vain, however, that the 
parents insisted upon removing their child. To all 
their prayers and remonstrances, a cold refusal was 
the only reply. At last, the mother in her agony 

One Years Work in Rome. i6i 

came for me. " Help me, help me,'* was her cry ; 
" they have stolen my child." 

The Vaudois teacher, Mr. Garnieri, who had charge 
of the school during my absence, was moved by the 
distress of the poor woman, and accompanied her to 
the convent. The nuns still persisted in their refusal, 
but as Mr. Garnieri was peremptory in his determina- 
tion not to leave the house without her, and to call 
in the aid of the police if necessary, the required per- 
mission was obtained, and she was restored to her 
parents. For some time the appearance of the girl 
was like that of some frightened animal, but she has 
now recovered her spirits, and we trust that ulti- 
mately her terrible experience under the protection 
of the nuns of St. Agatha will leave no trace be- 
hind it. 

I would by no means give my friends to understand 
that all Catholics acquainted with the schools are op- 
posed to them. Many secretly approve of them, 
who do not even dare openly to visit them. I have 
lately had the pleasure of hearing that they are 
highly spoken of by a parish priest with whom I 
have no personal acquaintance. Others visit the 
schools regularly, and take the greatest possible in- 
terest in their welfare. 

• The general principle was laid down in the com- 
mencement of the enterprise, that the religious in- 
struction should mainly consist in teaching our chil- 
dren the life and precepts of Jesus Christ. From this 
principle, we have as yet seen no reason to deviate. 
So many new children are being constantly received 
that the sweet " old, old story '\ is always falling upon 

1 62 One Years Work in Rome. 

ears which never before listened to it. The school is 
opened with the repetition of the Lord's Prayer by 
teachers and scholars, singing, the repetition of cer- 
tain verses from the Bible, and the lesson of which I 
have just spoken. Our aim is to Christianize and 
civilize, not to propagandize : to fill the mind with 
thoughts of a Heavenly Father and a loving Saviour, 
and we trust that our efforts are not altogether in 

On the 15th of November I opened the first Roman 
Kindergarten. I can not here go into a description 
of this admirable system, but will only refer to its 
effects, which we find most excellent. Beside the 
actual instruction the children receive, which includes 
the elements of Arithmetic, Physiology, Natural Phi- 
losophy, History, Astronomy, Botany, Geometry, etc., 
their hearts and minds receive the best possible train- 
ing. The book of nature is spread open before them, 
and by a regularly organized system they become 
acquainted with the world into which they have so 
lately been introduced. They learn also to love 
work. Their little hands are every day busied in 
producing results which are to them most interest- 
ing. While they are learning some of the deepest 
secrets of creation, moreover, the study of the works 
of their Heavenly Father, and the respect they are 
taught to pay to the rights of others in the little 
objects with which they perform their simple tasks, 
bring before their young minds the two great com- 
mandments of the law. In short, while this most 
excellent system of instruction is adapted to the 
children of all nations, while it is, perhaps, the dis- 

0ns Years Work in Rome. 163 

covery par excellence of our age, it seems to me an 
absolute necessity in Italian education, an antidote 
to, and a preventive of, the defects of the new-born 

Our Christmas tree was, of course, a great event to 
our children, many of whom had never seen anything 
of the kind. By the kindness of friends, and par- 
ticularly by the self-denying labors of a little group 
who devoted from two to four evenings every week 
to the task of preparation, it was made a perfect 
success. Its decorations were the work of represen- 
tatives of five different nations. A German friend 
presented us with the tree itself, hung a golden star 
above it, and placed a little " infant Jesus " on its 
topmost branch, according to the German custom, 
bearing the title, " Suffer little children to come unto 
me." Some young Danish girls hung golden and 
rich-colored tinsel in showers over its branches, which 
bore, with a variety of other ornamentation, a lace bag 
worked in worsted and filled with bonbons for each 
child, a ball in a bright-colored net for every boy, 
and a nicely-dressed doll for every girl. On an ad- 
joining table were piles of white bread, plain cake, 
and oranges. On another were rolls of clothing, 
dresses for the girls and pantaloons for the boys, with 
a variety of little articles in worsted, presented by 
friends. The room and tree were brilliantly lighted. 
At the appointed time, the children entered the room 
at opposite doors — one column bearing the American 
and the other the Italian flag, and were placed in a 
circle about the tree. A few moments were given 
them in which to admire it, and then at an appointed 

164 One Years Work iii Rome. 

signal they burst into a Christmas song. They next 
repeated the story of the birth of our Saviour, as 
given in St. Matthew and St. Luke. Various recita- 
tions, interspersed with hymns and patriotic songs, 
followed, and brought what may be called the liter- 
ary part of the performance to an end. The distri- 
bution of the gifts followed. The little ones of the 
Creche were now introduced. This charitable insti- 
tution was founded soon after the entrance of the 
Italians into Rome, principally by the exertions of 
Mrs. J. E. Freeman, and is supported by our country 
people, under the charge of the clergyman of the 
Episcopal Church. It is a most necessary and Christ- 
ian charity. The little guests were just old enough 
to be delighted with the brightness and coloring 
about them, and themselves made a beautiful scene 
in the picture. One affecting little incident occurred 
in connection with these children. A mother who 
had recently lost her child had sent a portion of its 
v»^ardrobe to the Creche. As the little ones were 
brought in, she lifted one of them in her arms to show 
it the tree, and found that it was dressed in a little 
coat which she had but lately wrapped about her own 

The clothing given out on occasion of our Christ- 
mas tree is still worn by many children who would 
otherwise be literally in rags ; but I think the fete 
did much in many other ways, producing an excellent 
impression on the community, and encouraging the 
children and parents by showing them the interest 
taken in the schools. It stirred up the ire of the 
ultramontanes in our neighborhood to a terrible de- 

One Years Work in Rome. 165 

gree, and was the remote cause, we think, of the 
brutal attempt to frighten the children, and of the 
abduction of Matilde Tornelli. 

Early in April we left our large hall in the Vicolo 
Soderini, which so many of our friends visited last 
winter. We were busied for months in looking for a 
proper place. The same malign influence, to which I 
have before referred, was at work to prevent our ob- 
taining an apartment. During my absence in Naples, 
two Catholic young women interested in the school 
exerted themselves to find one. They met with 
various experiences, of which I will mention but one. 
A Roman lady to whom they addressed themselves, 
and whose apartment they thought might be suitable, 
received them with great suavity, and was quite will- 
ing to let them her rooms. They soon discovered, 
however, that she supposed they wished to use them 
for immoral purposes. They hastened, of course, to 
undeceive her, but when they had fully explained 
that they wished them for our schools, all her suavity 
vanished in a moment, and she refused further parley, 
with a " Get thee behind me, Satan/* series of gest- 
ures, which were ludicrous in the dismay they por- 

At the time of our removal from the Vicolo Sode- 
rini, our school numbered over a hundred and thirty 
children. The distance to the new place is so great 
that but few could follow us to it, and the pain with 
which I parted from those among whom I had passed 
so many of the happiest hours of my life I can never 
describe. I left, however, between sixty or seventy 
of them under the care of Mr. Garnieri, so that we 

1 66 One Years Work in Rome. 

may say that in the course of fifteen months two 
institutions have already been founded in different 
parts of the city, each of which will doubtless, ere 
long, be as large as was the one at the time of our 
removal. Our new rooms are in the Palazzo del 
Govemo Vecchio, in the street of the same name, not 
far from the Piazza Navona and the Palazzo Braschi. 
They are airy and pleasant, but too small. I had 
expected to secure the apartment below us, and had 
indeed already signed the contract for it, but the hope 
of at last resting for some years in an appropriate 
haven has gone, like so many of its predecessors. 
This last disappointment was the more severe, be- 
cause after signing the contract for rooms sufficiently 
large for the schools if they should include two hun- 
dred or two hundred and fifty children, I concluded 
to devote those I now occupy as an asylum for 
orphaned and destitute children, and at once ad- 
mitted two poor little girls, whose home was a par- 
ticularly sad one, and who were suffering for want of 
the actual necessities of life. One of them is de- 
formed. I should like to bring her up so that, if her 
life is spared, she may become a teacher where she is 
now a pupil, and by ministering to others learn the 
secret of true happiness. I am at present so earnestly 
solicited by my friends to take charge of two other 
little girls left worse than motherless, that I can not 
refuse to do so, and am looking for two or three 
rooms in the near neighborhood of the school, where 
I can place them under the charge of my matron, who 
has two little children of her own. I can not but 
hope that this first asylum in Rome under the charge 

One Years Work in Rome. 167 

of foreigners, begun after the experience and careful 
study of sixteen months, and begun on so very small 
a scale, will lead to happy results, as it will not only 
give the children a comfortable home, but remove 
them from unhappy influences with which most of 
them are surrounded. 

Our Sunday-school is a very important branch of 
our work ; we have been able to enroll nearly all our 
pupils among its attendants. Until my late illness, 
I always attended it myself, and a little circle of the 
mothers accompanied their children every Sunday, 
and listened with the greatest interest to the lessons 
given. It is held after the hours of service. It will 
be put in excellent hands during the summer, and in 
the autumn I shall hope to renew the care of it my- 
self. I may add here, that the very first spontaneous 
exercise of the children's minds occurred in the Sab- 
bath-school. It is the easiest thing in the world to 
fill a Roman child's mind with words, but one of the 
hardest to put ideas into it. It was very long before 
we could get from them the oral instruction we had 
imparted, without repeating it at the moment of ex- 
amining them. Our habit has been for the last six 
months to keep the school all together for the open- 
ing exercises, and then to separate the elder children 
from the younger ; the latter remaining with me. On 
the occasion to which I refer, I said: "I have been 
thinking about Jesus Christ, and how very much He 
loves little children. Can you tell me how He showed 
us when He lived here on earth that He loved chil- 
dren so dearJy ? " " Because He died on the cross 
for them," said one. " Because He raised up the lit- 

1 68 One Yearns Work in Rome, 

tie girl that was dead," said another. " Because He 
made well that little boy that had the dreadful con- 
vulsions/* said a third. These answers came without 
any help from me, and by guiding their minds a lit- 
tle, I got them to tell me of the blessing and the 
promise pronounced as the Saviour took the little 
ones in His arms. The replies would have been 
nothing in an American or English Sabbath-school, 
but here in Rome they were a precious token of 
good. They showed interest and reflection such as. 
we had long sought for in vain. I am very sure that 
these children will never forget these lessons; that 
the seed has been sown, although other eyes than 
ours behold the harvest. 

Another thing which gives me pleasure is the 
knowledge our children are acquiring that they have 
a country ; that they are Italians, and not Romans 
only. On the king's birthday, I ordered a flag, which 
I have had made for the school, carried there. But 
on entering our drawing-room, two of whose windows 
command the Piazza di Spagna, I found that the flag 
which should have been displayed from our house, 
had also been taken to the Vicolo Soderini. I sent 
for it directly, but on my way to the school, I met 
the servant returning with the report that the child- 
ren would not let it go. It was still early ; the exer- 
cises of the day had not commenced, but the children 
were assembled, and had taken their places. I ex- 
plained to the teachers that I must have one of the 
flags, and we proceeded to take it down. But at 
once there commenced such a burst of " No, no," 
and such a hubbub of little voices, that all my per- 

One Years Work in Rome. 169 

■I ' ■ ' ■ ' ' ' 

sonal authority was required in order to call them to 
order. When they were hushed, I told them that 
they were very bad Italians, that they were rebels. 
I favored them with a sermon upon the conduct of a 
true patriot, and added : " And then you are so self- 
ish. Do you think I do not love Victor Emmanuel 
also? But for him, I could not have opened the 
school, and we should never have known and loved 
each other. Do you wish everybody who passes my 
house to think, as they will, that I do not love Italy 
and the king?" "Oh, no, no, Signora! la prenda 
pure ; take it!** they exclaimed, and some of them 
came forward to help to take it down. One boy 
asked and obtained permission to get a second flag 
from his own house, and in a few moments the 
school was opened as usual. But while we were in 
the midst of our instruction, there was again a great 
uproar. This time there were vivas and clapping of 
hands from my excited little patriots. Their com- 
panion had returned with the flag, was carrying it 
aloft in triumph, and in a moment was leading off" 
the chorus of Viva Vittorio Emanuele ! Viva Tltalia! 
We finally thought it best to suspend the usual les- 
sons, and give ourselves up for the morning to pa- 
triotic songs and declamations. 

The " Asylum," the beginning of which was so small 
and "without observation," was destined to grow into the 
most useful and enduring of Mrs. Gould's charitable un- 
dertakings at Rome. Her work in the organization of 

day-schools began, in the course of a few months, to de- 

1 70 Opte Years Work in Rome. 

feat itself in a way which she was foremost to recognize 
and rejoice at. Her own methods and principles, under 
the administration of her eminent friends, Signors Correnti 
and Bonghi and Signora Fua Fusinato, were adopted in the 
public schools of Rome ; and none were more ready than 
these honored leaders in the cause of Italian education to 
acknowledge the debt of obligation to their American 
fellow-worker. On her own part there was nothing of the 
spirit of selfish benevolence, that she should reckon nothing 
done unless she did it herself. So that she was content, 
as the general cause of Roman popular education went 
nobly forward, to decrease while others increased. But 
that more tender and motherly work which began of itself 
(as one might say) in this beginning of the " Home," grew 
and prospered, and could not die, even though bereaved 
of the wise and energetic mind and the loving heart that 
nursed its feeble infancy. 


1 87 1— 1873. 

Friends and Enemies— A Breaking down 0/ Health 
— Helpers in Time of Need— A Christmas^Tree^ 
and Mary Howitfs Address— A Sunday-School 
Festival^ and a Lady's Lay-Sermon — Prayer and 
Providence— The Children's Home begun in a 
Maronite Convent — Teaching Trades^ The Lib- 
erality 0/ Friends— The Love 0/ the Scholars. 

THE opposition encountered by Mrs. Gould's work 
was no more than might have been expected. 
She had no occasion for " resisting unto blood, 
striving against sin." But there was no end of petty an- 
noyance. To be hooted in the streets as a scomunicatay 
was frequent enough ; and insulting and calumnious talk 
against her abounded in the ultramontane press. But 
such things were generally let pass without notice. On 
one occasion only, after an exceptionally scurrilous news- 
paper attack, she had recourse to the excellent press-law 
of Italy. The Italian press is the freest in Europe ; but 
when it takes too many liberties with an individual, he 

has this redress, that the offending sheet may be required 


172 The Beginning of the Home. 

to give to his counter-statement equal space and circula- 
tion with the original libel. Not in her own defense, but 
in defense of her cherished schools, she went, in one in- 
stance, to a magistrate and exacted this mild penalty from 
one of the leading " Papaline " journals. 

All care was taken in the conduct of the schools to pro- 
voke no reasonable objection in any quarter. The absence 
of all proselytism, and of all attack upon religious pre- 
judices, was, indeed, a matter not of precaution, but of 
principle. On the other hand, a good understanding was 
always maintained with the Government by loyal com- 
pliance with the perfectly reasonable requirements of 
Government inspection — for failure in which some well- 
meaning people got themselves into trouble with the po- 
lice. Some of the most distinguished Roman citizens 
delighted to manifest their interest in the schools, by per- 
sonal visits and by subscriptions to the treasury. Among 
these may be mentioned that venerable patriot, the blind 
Duke of Sermoneta, and the poet and scholar, Signora 
Fua Fusinato. 

The prodigious labors of Mrs. Gould, the organizing 
and personal instruction of the schools, the wide social 
duties toward her friends in Rome, both Italian and for- 
eign — duties now more than ever imperative, since the 
maintenance of the schools depended mainly on the sus- 
tained interest of her personal friends — the voluminous 
correspondence in which she was engaged with several 
different American journals at once, and which was made 
doubly to contribute to her woik for the children — these, 

The Beginning of the Home. 173 

of course, broke down her health. A letter to a friend, 
dated in December, 187 1, gives a very exact account of 
her regular course of life at this time. It is an illustration 
of what the letter says, to observe that the letter itself 
consists of thirteen closely written pages. 

I have been obliged to neglect sending you my 
promised letter, having been literally drowned in work 
since my return to Rome. I found that my school 
had greatly increased in numbers, but was suffering 
for want of my personal care in many other ways. 
So I have gone into it each day and remained during 
the entire school session, with the exception of a run 
home to breakfast. This I shall have to do for some 
weeks longer, when I hope to have properly trained 
both children and teachers, so that I shall have some 
little time to myself. My correspondence is all car- 
ried on after eleven o'clock at night. Indeed, this is 
my life at present. Breakfast at nine. A few words 
on housekeeping matters, and then at once to the 
school. My kind friend, the young Vaudois clergy- 
man, has been so occupied that he could not give the 
religious instruction, so all this has fallen upon me. 
I took alternately after the opening of the school the 
different classes, but I was seized with sudden and 
violent bronchitis, and my husband became so alarm- 
ed that I only take the English, the opening exer- 
cises, and the first class, with the general oversight 
and discipline. It is nearly five when I leave the 
school, and I step straight into bed, where I remain 
until nearly eight. In the evening, friends always 
come in, as that is the only time when I am at home, 

1 74 The Beginning of the Home. 

and after they leave, comes the correspondence of 
the day, which is simply tremendous ; husband, house, 
and friends, all go to the wall. 

The tender and skillful care of Dr. Gould delayed the 
break-down, but it had to come. She would not be sick 
while the great work of her life might be imperilled by it. 
But when she saw the way clear to the fulfilling of her 
heart's desire in the founding of the Home for Roman 
Children, and when, in January, 1873, Miss Mary Ellis, of 
the Mount Holyoke Seminary, arrived in Rome, to aid in 
the direction of the schools, there was nothing impera- 
tively to binder her being sick ; and so she lay down, in 
utter nervous prostration, and passed through a severe 
and perilous illness. In this emergency, there came for- 
ward to the help of the schools a band of young American 
and English ladies, who devoted the priceless hours of a 
tourist at Rome, to teaching these little children. The 
sight of these young ladies at the work drew from the pen 
of Signora Fua Fusinato, in the Italic newspaper, an elo- 
quent expression of thanks : 

The strangers who visit us now have done and are 
doing so much good among us, that they force us al- 
most to forget and forgive the wrong that other 
foreigners have inflicted upon us. It would seem as 
if Providence desired in this instance also, as in so 
many others, to confide to woman the healing mis- 
sion of the angel of charity, love, and peace. They 
come to us, these lovely women, to enjoy our smiling 

The Begifining of the Home, 175 

skies, to breathe the perfume of our flov/ers, to revel 
in the treasures of art we present to them, and while 
their bodies are healed and their minds refreshed, 
they are filled with the desire of repaying the benefits 
they have received by labors of intelligent benevo- 
lence and true piety. Many of them, not content 
with aiding this charitable institution with their 
means, give their time also, and busy themselves in 
teaching their language, in which decided progress 
has been made. Indeed, while we Italians were af- 
fected by hearing these eighty-five children sing 
(thanks to a foreigner) our patriotic songs, the En- 
glish and Americans present were no less moved by 
hearing them sing the simple songs and hymns which 
recalled to them their youth, their distant fatherland, 
and their absent friends. 

Another friend, whose sympathy and practical help 
never failed Mrs. Gould, was Mrs. Mary Howitt — name 
beloved in both hemispheres. At the Christmas-tree fes- 
tival, which was held (a little late) in January, 1873, in the 
Young Men*s Christian Association rooms, an account of 
the work from its beginning, prepared by Mrs. Howitt, 
was read ; and the festival was not only a delight to the 
children, but a commendation of the work to a crowded 
company, whose friendly interest was of vital use. " I 
think," says Mrs. Gould, "I never saw, outside of a sar- 
dine-box, such packing as there was in the salon of the 
Christian Association that day." 

Mrs. Howitt, in a characteristic paper, briefly re- 

1 76 The Beginning of the Home. 

lated the story of the schools, and announced the purposes 
of their founder for the opening year. 

Under these favorable circumstances, Mrs. Gould 
will now, with the cordial good wishes of all her 
friends, venture on the equally bold step of meeting 
the present need, by opening a new school in another 
part of the city, trusting all, with the same spirit of 
faith in which the work was begun, to the Fatherly 
care of him who loves little children to come to 
him, and reproves such as would keep them away. 
Mrs. Gould's present experience amongst the lower 
population of Rome, in two different parts of the 
city, has made her acquainted with a fact which it 
may be interesting to some to learn. The children 
who attended the first school in the Vicolo Soderini, 
were apparently of a higher type of intellect and 
moral intuition, belonging as it were to a more culti- 
vated race than these that are gathered from the im- 
mediate vicinity of the Governo Vecchio. Neverthe- 
less — and this is a very encouraging circumstance — 
these almost utterly ignorant children are most eager 
for, and intensely interested in, such simple religious 
instruction, the very rudiments, so to speak, of the 
Divine love and knowledge, as is given in the school. 

And here, perhaps, it may be well to remark that 
as regards religious instruction, no attempt is made 
to interfere with, to undervalue, or to overturn the 
established religion of the nation. That which is 
here instilled is simply based upon the great fact of 
a loving Heavenly Father and a Saviour his Son, 
who became man, became a little child, was poor like 

The Beginning of the Home. , 177 

themselves, suffered cold and hunger, and often had 
not where to lay his head ; who spent his life in 
doing good, and finally died a cruel death for them, 
and left us his parting words, to them as to all, that 
they should love one another. This touching, sub- 
lime story, whose simple, pathetic truth is ever new to 
them, finds an answer in every young heart, however 
dull and unawakened the intellect may be. The story 
of the life and death of our Saviour never falls upon 
careless or unwilling ears. 

Scarcely a day passes without the occurrence of 
some beautiful instance of the power which this Di- 
vine example exercises in the school. One day two 
furious combatants angrily appealed to Mrs. Gould, 
detailing their wrongs and bitterly accusing each 
other. Taking one in each hand, the affectionate di- 
rectress said mildly, but with a somewhat sorrowful 
countenance, " But what did we repeat to-day? Was 
it not that we should love one another? If we love 
one another we should not tell tales of each other 
nor wish to hurt each other.'* This was enough ; the 
angry color passed from the childish faces, and 
friendly play went on once more. Again : two still 
younger children were seen in the act of fighting. 
Taking their hands, Mrs. Gould said, " Let us love 
one another!" and stooped and kissed first one and 
then the other, and without saying more, drew them 
together. Peace was made ; the quarrel and the 
anger were over. Truly the Saviour had spoken in 
those young passionate hearts, " Peace, be still." . . . . 

Long residence in Rome and a thorough knowledge 
of the lower class has taught the excellent directress 

1 78 The Beginning of the Home. 

^— ^^^— ^^"^^^^ II ■ ■ ^W^^^ I I I ■ ■ I II I 1^— - I I ■ ■ , ■ , ■ ■ I ■ .11 »■ ■■— III ■■■■■■■ . ^ ^.^i^l^M^ 

of these schools that the less pecuniary aid extended 
to them the better, and that, excepting under pecul- 
iar circumstances, neither food nor clothing, nor any- 
thing which might act as a bribe^ either to the child 
or the parent, should be given. This being the prin- 
ciple on which the school has been established, it be- 
comes valued for its own worth, a worth soon found 
to be beyond that of mere material help. The par- 
ents, as well as the children, gain hereby an inde- 
pendence of character which raises them out of 
pauperism, the shame of the poor Romans in the 
eyes of all strangers. 

Nevertheless, whilst this is the rule, cases occur 
which necessarily demand an exception. Thus, six 
children out of the v/hole school, have, after long at- 
tendance, been found in such painful circumstances, 
that it has appeared not only desirable, but absolutely 
necessary to provide food for them at noon. The 
latest case, which occurred only last week, may be 

A little girl of about ten, who had attended school 
for about six months, the child of a very poor, worse 
than widowed, mother, having fainted whilst at her 
afternoon lessons, was carried into the matron's apart- 
ment, when it appeared she had fainted from absolute 
want. " What time had you your breakfast, my 
child?** asked the matron, knowing that she had 
brought nothing with her for her dinner. " Mamma 
mia had no breakfast for me to-day," answered th^ 
poor child. No food literally had passed her lips all 
that day, yet she had never complained, but gone 
steadily through her lessons till exhausted nature 

The Beginning of the Home. 179 

gave way. On this, her name was immediately put 
on the list of those who dine at the school, and she 
makes the sixth. This fainting in the room of the 
matron led also to another discovery regarding the 
insufficiency of her clothing. The dress she wore 
was a very old and washed-out summer barege, which 
now being dirty, she was told to come cleaner to 
school. In a day or two the poor thin skirt had been 
washed, but not the body. " How was this, why had 
liot both been washed together?" Again the reply 
was a revelation of their poverty. She had literally 
no other clothing on under the little waist ! 

In connection with the schools must be mentioned, 
as an important adjunct to them, though as yet in its 
infancy, the Home for destitute children, in which at 
present are four little girls, not orphans, but whose 
domestic circumstances are worse than orphanage. 
One of these children, first admitted and mentioned 
in last year's report, a little cripple, then laden with 
irons, from which she is now happily released, is so 
much improved in general health as scarcely to ap- 
pear deformed. She is still one of the best and 
brightest of the children, and will, it is hoped, become 
in time a valuable assistant teacher. Three other lit- 
tle girls wait to be admitted as soon as sufficient 
funds will justify Mrs. Gould in enlarging her responsi- 
bilities, and a suitable locality be found. In the 
meantime a little boy is sheltered in her house, 
brought thither from his home on the Campagna, 
where his life was endangered by fever. He too is a 
very tractable and singularly bright child. 

The Sunday-school, mentioned in the last report, 

i8o The Beghming of the Home, 

is also an interesting feature of these important edu- 
cational undertakings. About three weeks ago, on 
making out a list of the children, it was found that 
more were present at the Sunday-school than had 
been in attendance on any one day during the week, 
showing how popular was the instruction given on 
that day. The exercises are exactly those which oc- 
cupy the first half hour of the daily school. The 
Rev. Mr. Burtchaell, well known to all the English 
and American friends of the cause, has a class of the 
elder children, which he instructs according to the 
mode usual with the elder or junior classes in the 
Sunday-schools at home. The whole school unites 
for the opening exercises, after which Mr. Burtchaell 
removes his children ; the others grouping into little 
classes of four or six, round their respective monitor 
or monitress, recite verses from the New Testament. 
About every ten minutes a bell is rung, the monitors 
rise, and are taught a little in advance of the others, 
after which, turning again to their own classes, they 
teach that which they have just learned. This alter- 
nation of first learning and then communicating that 
which has been learned, is found to be productive of 
excellent results. Occasionally the entire school rise 
and one of their favorite hymns is sung. 

Sometimes, however, this routine is not wholly fol- 
lowed, and the younger ones are kept together grouped 
round their beloved directress, listening with en- 
chanted attention to the story perhaps of a lost sheep 
for whom the Good Shepherd is in search, or to some 
other sweet incident of the Saviour's life and love, 
the comprehension of the subject being evident on 

The Beginning of the Home. 18 1 

every eager upturned young face (many of them 
really beautiful), and still more by the replies which 
follow the questioning of the« teacher, often full 
of tender, childlike and not unfrequently original 

Besides this Sunday-school for the children, morn- 
ing Sunday-classes have been formed for adults and 
such elder children as are prevented by their avoca- 
tions from attending the daily school. Owing to her 
late ill health, the directress has been reluctantly 
compelled to give up her part in this branch of the 
school to one of the teachers. She hopes, however, 
to be able to resume her place in the course of the 
winter. In this school, which numbers about twenty- 
five, reading and writing only are taught, but as it 
meets a want of so many who have not had, and 
might not otherwise find, the means of acquiring 
these elementary branches, the number will, no doubt, 
greatly increase 

We have thus endeavored to give a brief account 
of the labors of our estimable friends — labors which, 
as we have before said, are as seed sown not alone for 
the harvest of time, but for the immortal harvest of 

As for ourselves, the lookers-on, let us bear in mind 
that if we have pleasure in this world-famous old city, 
the soil and stones of which are full of ancient mem- 
ories ; the city of empire, the city sanctified by the 
blood of Christian martyrs ; if we rejoice in the pic- 
turesque and the beautiful with which it surrounds 
us ; if our daily pleasures are enhanced by the amenity 
of its climate, its glorious sunsets, its flowers and its 

1 82 The Beginning of the Home. 

fruits; let us spare of the wealth which God has 
given us, be it more or be it less, to help in lifting up 
its young sons and daughters, its little children, 
with their rich, but unawakened intellects, their infant 
hearts open to every tender, elevating religious senti- 
ment, and so indeed help to regenerate Rome — 
Rome, which whether for evil or for good has so many 
ages held rule over the souls of men. 

The Sunday-schools described by Mrs. Hewitt, which 
from the beginning had attached themselves to Mrs- 
Gould's enterprises, grew more- and more interesting. In 
July, a little festival was given to such of the grown-up 
scholars as had been regular and constant in attendance. 


It was held at the rooms that had been secured for the 
use of the Home in a spacious building, once a Maronite 
convent. The account of this in Mrs. Gould's annual re- 
port gives a good idea of the religious impressions made 
by her work : 

As I entered our large school-room, after they had 
assembled that evening, I thought I had seldom seen 
a more interesting group of young people. They 
were principally girls from seventeen to twenty-five 
years of age, with a sprinkling of young men, and 
some younger girls, kept at home, during the week, 
to tend the inevitable " pupa." We had made our 
festa in some degree a picnic, by desiring everybody 
to bring his or her knife, fork, plates, etc. These 
having been placed on the tables, our guests were 

The Beginning of the Hovte.^ 183 

requested to pass into the next room, and seat them- 
selves wherever they found their property. 

The supper-room of the evening is a particularly 
pretty one, the roof being supported by columns. 
Between these our tables were spread. The doors 
stood open into the garden, which was partially 
illuminated by a young moon. A fabulous amount 
of maccaroni had been prepared, and was served. 
But the standard of good manners, which prevails in 
the class of society to which our guests belong, did 
not permit them to begin to eat until particularly re- 
quested to do so, when with a volley of " Thanks,'* 
they fell upon their national dish with great vigor. 
Our boys, under the direction of Mr, Garnieri, mean- 
while gave a serenade of patriotic and other airs. 
They were invisible minstrels, and after their concert 
was over, went contentedly off to bed. The mac- 
caroni was followed by a dish of beef, and I am sure 
the meal eaten by these hungry people was one more 
enjoyable to us who were lookers-on, than the best 
dinner we could have eaten ourselves. The custom- 
ary finale of a Roman supper is a salad, but, as we 
were anxious to give a lesson of caution, in these 
days when the cholera has invaded Italy, we substi- 
tuted a zuppa inglese^ a favorite sweet dish. This 
was received with great favor, and we accompanied 
it with a little lecture on diet, whence a digression 
treating of cleanliness of their persons and their 
homes was easy. It was evident that the moment 
was a favorable one to make an impression upon our 
pupils, and we took advantage of it. I presented 
Signora Fua Fusinato to them, told them how much 

184 The Beginning of the Home. 

she had done for the unity of our beloved Italy, and 
for its improvement in literature and education, and 
reminded them that they too could some of them 
perhaps aid their country, as she had done ; at least 
all might imitate her as a woman, and as a woman 
we best loved her, and she best filled her lot in life. 
I wish I could remember all that she said to them ; 
how feelingly she spoke of the days, so lately past, 
when no poor man or woman could hope to rise, 
no matter how great his merit, no matter how dili- 
gently he labored or studied. She reminded them 
of their duties and privileges as citizens under a free 
Government, and exhorted them to profit by the 
advantages they were enjoying. Monteverde, the 
greatest perhaps of living Italian sculptors, she told 
them, began life in a position like their own. (Indeed 
this remarkable young man was apprenticed as a boy 
to a chair-maker, and worked with him for some 
years). I suppose this sort of address had never 
been made to any one of these young people before ; 
that the idea that they might rise in life, might make 
a position for themselves, had never occurred to 
them. We took care not to weary them, and as soon 
as all had finished supper, invited them to return to 
the other room, where a series of megalethescopic 
views, principally of Italian scenes, were shown and 
explained to them. Then, as it grew late, and some 
of the elder of the party remembered for a moment, 
in the midst of their delight, that we must be wearied, 
they suddenly withdrew to another part of the room, 
and sang for us a very sweet patriotic song. Whfen it 
, was over, the time for the last words had come. We 

The Beginning of the Home, 1 85 

tried to make them such as they would remember. 
There were but two things that we had to beg them 
to think of during our separation from each other: 
One was, that God was our Heavenly Father, who 
loved us with a love so great that we could never 
understand it, and was always ready to hear our 
prayers. They answered this with a spontaneous 
burst of " We will pray for you, Signora, we 
will never forget to pray always for you." This 
promise we accepted, with the assurance that God 
would surely hear their prayers, as he had those 
of our children. The other injunction we gave 
them is particularly necessary, in the midst of the 
community in which they live. The young women 
were entreated to remember and respect their 
womanhood, and the young men to respect their 
female friends. In this way only could they be good 
members of families, good Italians, and good Christ- 
ians. I wish every preacher could have so attentive 
an audience as we had .that night. I wish every ser- 
mon were received with such gladness as were our 
few words on that occasion. It seemed as if they 
could not make up their minds to take their eyes off 
from us, and again and again one and another re- 
turned for one more good-bye, and one more assur- 
ance that they would never forget to pray for us, and 
never be absent from the Sunday-school. Signora 
Gotelli writes me that the result of this gathering 
has been excellent ; that the young people speak of it 
with great emotion, and she considers them in a 
most impressible state of mind. 
• I thihk I should explain oiir meaning in telling , 

i86 The Beginning of the Home. 

our guests that evening, that God would hear their 
prayers, as he had those of the children. Last sum- 
mer I was ill, and became at one time very much dis- 
couraged with regard to future improvement. I was 
writing to the schools, and, partly to let my teachers 
understand how ill I felt, and partly because we 
endeavor every day to teach our children to lay their 
desires before Him who cares for them, I said : '* I 
want you all to pray our Heavenly Father for me, 
and perhaps he will make me well again." The time 
necessary for a letter to reach Rome had just about 
elapsed, when I began to feel better, and the improve- 
ment was so marked that it was impossible not to 
connect it with our children*s prayers, while the next 
post brought me a budget of little letters, of which 
their artless assurances that they all were praying for 
me every day was the burden. These letters were 
answered by one in which they were told that they 
were always to remember that God was the answerer 
of prayer ; that if they ever met with people silly or 
wicked enough to say that God was too far off, and 
too great a Being to hear the prayers of children, they 
were to answer : " I know better ; for he heard 
mine, when I asked him to make the Signora well 
again.** This winter, ill-health obliged me to be 
absent a long time from my duties. One day, before 
the opening of the school, the children present asked 
some one from the house how I was. The reply was 
not favorable ; upon which one of the little girls said : 
" But we are not praying for our Signora ; we must 
pray for her ; " and down the little things dropped 
6n their knees, showing how well they had under- 

The Beginning of the Home. 187 

stood the lesson of the preceding season. But, in- 
deed, it can never be too often repeated that the first 
dawn of interest and intelligence in their minds is 
always on religious subjects. We were telling them 
' some time since of the resurrection of the ruler*s 

daughter, and the remark was made that Jesus did 
this miracle, not only for the sake of that one little 
girl and her mother and father, but to show all little 
children how much he loved them. One of the little 
girls said something in a low voice, which she was at 
first too timid to repeat. But on being urged to do 
so, she said: "And he wanted to show them that he 
was Jesus/' Was not this an intelligent remark for a 
little girl between seven and eight years old ? 

And yet the difficulties of giving to these Roman 
children anything like a thorough education are ex- 
ceedingly great. They learn words with astonishing 
rapidity, but their hatred for ideas is almost insur- 
mountable. We have been obliged to make a boy of 
fifteen read over a sentence of two lines and a half six 
times before he was able to tell what it was about, 
and this after first ascertaining that he understood 
every word of it. One of our children was repeating 
one day in his history lesson the story of Brutus. He 
is one of those boys who will learn by heart in spite 
of you ; and so, with his hands twisted behind his 
back, and his eyes almost starting from their sockets 
in his eagerness, he got the affectionate father, the 
lictors, and the poor boys down into the Forum to- 
gether, and Brutus with his foot upon the door-sill of 
the temple of Mars, when he was suddenly interrupted 
with the question — " Who was Mars ? *' ** Mars,'* said 

1 88 The Beginning of the Home. 

— -■■■■— ■ ■■ — ■■■■■■»■ ■■■■■■^. I ■ ^. »^^— ^ , 

the young sage, in a dreadful state of impatience to 
get back again to the words of the book once more, 
" Mars ! Why, Mars was the sister of Lazarus ! *' It 
must be said in very partial extenuation of the young 
man's ignorance, that the two words Mars and Martha 
dififer from each other but very slightly in Italian. I 
mention this absurd mistake to show what our diffi- 
culties are. This boy would have passed a most 
splendid examination in history, and yet he was 
utterly ignorant of it and everything else. We never 
have any foundation upon which to build, and our 
efforts to keep our children from learning by rote 
have to be constant, both because of their own dis- 
position to learn long strings of words, and that of! 
their teachers to encourage them in it. Those who 
are learning the Froebel system will never give us 
the same trouble, as their intelligence is thoroughly 
developed before books are put into their hands. 

The conviction was growing daily in Mrs. Gould's mind 
that all these means of influence were inferior in importance 
to the institution oi2iHome into which children could be re- 
ceived, not only for instruction in certain useful matters, but 
for education under the best influences, in seclusion from the 
damaging influences to which they were ordinarily exposed. 
Already, for strong reasons in each particular case, she had 
assumed the entire support of six girls, on account of k 
circumstances of especial need, distress, or exposure, or of 
especial promise. But she found that such an opportunity 
was even more needed for boys than for girls. " The 
Roman boys are infinitely less guarded and shielded from- 

The Beginning of the Home. 189 

evil than the Roman girls. The latter are much less in- 
dulged, and are kept at home sewing, knitting, or aiding 
in household work, while their brothers are exposed to all 
the evil influences of the street. It is almost impossible 
to counteract in six hours the evil influences exerted dur- 
ing the rest of the day." 

In pursuance of this plan she had secured, at a reason- 
able rent, the first and second floors of a house which was 
once a monastery of the Maronite monks. 

Connected with the apartment is a garden, which, 
although small, contains an immense deal of beauty. 
There are such lemon trees as are scarcely ever seen 
save in the famous groves of Sorrento, a fountain 
trickling over maiden's hair and other aquatic plants 
into a basin, the home of a large family of fish ; a 
famous grape-vine ; roses which look into the upper 
windows ; magnolia and pepper trees ; Japan fruit ; 
violpts hemming in the flower-beds with a wall of 
sweetness, and withal walks, up and down which our 
boys course like wild things va their play-hours. 
There are four good school-rooms on the ground 
floor, a dining-room and kitchen, and rooms which will 
be devoted to a printing-press this winter, as we hope. 
The boys' dormitory up-stairs is a charming room : 
lofty, with large windows opening upon the balcony, 
and its wealth of climbing flowers. Next this, is the 
room of the director of the boarding-school depart- 
ment. We were able to persuade Mr. Garnieri to ac- 
cept the position of head of our little family, for which 
he is eminently qualified. A matron and the three little 

190 The Beginning of the Home, 

girls occupy a room on the other side of the house, 
and a suite of rooms has been let to a friend, so that 
our rent will be somewhat lessened. 

The plan was to receive the most promising candidates 
to this Home, at first on probation ; and then, when they 
had proved themselves diligent, faithful and teachable, to 
receive them under a legal apprenticeship until the age of 
seventeen or eighteen years, by which time they would be 
prepared with good principles and a good trade, to go 
home and help their parents, who in most cases would be 
of the neediest classes. Amid the thousand organized 
charities of Rome, with their great funds accumulated 
through centuries, not one, it seems, had ever undertaken 
to teach a poor boy a trade, although many of them had 
been devoted to the assiduous cultivation of ignorance, 
indolence, and beggary as Christian virtues. 

In one of her letters to the New York Evening Post, a 
few months later, in commenting on some of the speeches 
of Garibaldi at Rome, Mrs. Gould had an opportunity of 
emphasizing the importance of this work of true charity. 
Garibaldi had visited the Orphan Asylum at the Termini, 
where the boys welcomed him with ** Garibaldi's Hymn." 

The General made a little speech to them, in which 
he reminded them that Italy needed good workmen, 
and that in preparing themselves to become such, 
they would aid in promoting the glory of their coun- 
try as well as their owji welfare. Garibaldi is deci- 
dedly conservative in some of his ideas. At the work- 

The Beginning of the Home. 191 

men's dinner given soon after his arrival in Rome, he 
exhorted his audience to bring up their sons each one 
to the trade of his father. We should scarcely ex- 
pect such advice in America, where every one is con- 
stantly admonished to seek to rise himself and to 
raise his family. But a different state of things pre- 
vails here. If a young man is educated beyond his 
station he has but few doors opened to him. He 
naturally looks to an employment under the Govern- 
ment, and after having found one (if he be, indeed, a 
fortunate candidate among the many who apply) he 
is no longer his own master. To-day he may be an 
engineer, a secretary, a lawyer, even in Rome ; to- 
morrow he may be ordered to some little town in the 
Apennines. He is a fair mark for the criticism of 
every journal, of every disappointed member of his 
profession. It is therefore the wisest course for per- 
sons who wish to aid the young men of Italy to give 
them first a trade. Then, if their education, their 
talent, and their good fortune enable them to rise 
above their birthright, all the better ; but in any case 
they will have the means of livelihood. 

The first beginnings of the new work were difficult. In 
her report written in July, 1873, Mrs. Gould was com- 
pelled to say : 

We regret that we have no trade for our boys at 
present. We visited Paris last year, haunted the 
oflfices for the employment of the Alsacians and Lor- 
rainese, made applications at the various schools of 
arts, besieged the clergymen, but all in vain. We 

192 The Beginning of the Home. 

could get no mechanic to come down to Rome ta 
teach his trade in our schools, without paying simply 
fabulous prices. Here, the difficulty of getting an 
honest and thoroughly competent mechanic is insur- 
mountable. There is one thing only that we can at 
present do toward putting our boys in the way of 
earning their living, beside teaching them drawing 
and modelling. It is to teach them printing. For 
this purpose, we must beg our friends to send us a 
printing-press. We have rooms on the ground floor 
in the Via Marroniti, which were formerly let to a 
carpenter, and which we destined, from the first mo- 
ment we saw them, for printing-rooms. There are 
many reasons which make it desirable to introduce 
this trade into our institution. It is certainly very 
necessary that when they leave us, they should be 
fitted for m.aking their own way in life. If we have 
a printing-press for them, the boys can always be 
under our personal supervision while at work. The 
trade is a perfectly healthy one. By fitting, as we 
should know how to do, the workshop into the school, 
their general intelligence will be increased. Good 
printers will hereafter be more and more in demand 
in Italy, from the constantly and greatly increasing 
number of newspapers and books issued in the coun- 
try, and thus the future of our children will be 
secured. The schools will, after a very short time, 
become partly self-supporting. Our friends will be 
sure to give us work, in the way of printing hand- 
bills, circulars, and cards. This very report will, we 
hope, ere long, issue from our own printing-press. 
Finally, our boys and girls (for we shall teach print- 

The Beginning of the Home: 193 

ing to all our children, as soon as they are old enough) 
will have pleasant associations with their work, will 
learn to really love it, and thus we shall have done 
our little part in solving the labor question, which is 
such a serious one in our day, and threatens to be 
more so in the future. 

With impaired health, with many an embarrassment and 
hindrance in her work, the butt of public insult in the 
street, as she ** went about doing good," Mrs. Gould was a 
happy woman. The history of her charitable treasury 
was a story of human sympathy directed by Providential 
care. She says of it : 

The many sweet thoughts and tender affections 
and earnest prayers which have accompanied the 
gifts cast into it, have enhanced their value a thou- 
sandfold. Now one has approached it, with a song 
of thanksgiving in her mouth, because God had looked 
upon her affliction, and in exchange for an angel in 
heaven, placed a new-born babe in her arms. Now a 
mother, in memory of one whom she was rearing for 
God's service on earth, but of whom the Master had 
need in heaven, has sent us a gift in memory of this 
son. Again and again, friends in the far-off land, for 
the sake of the love they bore to those whose names 
are too sacred to be pronounced here, have sped their 
offerings in aid of our labors. And those, too, who 
knew us only or principally by means of these labors, 
have been unceasing in their collections for our bene- 
fit. How often has help come to us, when, in spite of 
ourselves, we were greatly discouraged ! This was 

194' The Beginning of the Home. 

especially the case last winter, when in consequence of 
circumstances which it is not necessary to relate, our 
treasury had been unreplenished, while the necessity 
of assuming other and greater obligations was press- 
ing upon us. 

Among those who came to her aid at this crisis, she 
names the Rev. Horace James, Henry Day, Esq., and the 
Rev. Mr. Waite, whose timely words opened streams of 
supply toward the empty treasury ; and mentions one 
gift of a generous lady which deserves to be " told as a 
memorial of her." One day, in the absence of Mrs. Gould, 
Mrs. Gouverneur Morris Wilkins visited the schools, and 
left behind her, to Mrs. Gould's address, an envelope con- 
taining five thousand francs, and then slipped away from 
Rome without giving so much as an opportunity for ac- 

But the best reward of all this arduous labor was found 
in the individual improvement and personal gratitude of 
the objects of it. Every reader of this volume must have 
remarked how personal was the interest of Mrs. Gould in 
her work — to what extent her love toward the flock which 
she had gathered around her was like the love of the Good 
Shepherd who " knoweth his sheep and calleth them all 
by name." Consequently, the personal gratitude of the 
pupils grew to be beautifully tender. One instance out of 
many is that of a girl in whom, in very lowly circum- 
stances, were discovered qualities that gave good promise 
of usefulness in the work of teaching. After a little pre-' 

The Beginning of the Home, 195 

paration she was sent to the Government training-school 
for teachers at Torre-Peilice, at the expense of a few of 
Mrs. Gould's friends who made special gifts for her sup- 
port. Her diligence and success and her gratitude to her 
benefactress were a bountiful reward. Ten months after 
her admission to the school, Mrs. Gould (who had visited 
her in the meanwhile, to make sure that she was doing 
well) describes her progress thus : 

The instruction is given in French, of which she 
did not know a word when she entered. I never 
dreamed of the possibility of her keeping up with 
her class, and being promoted into a more advanced 
one at the end of the year. Her examinations are 
just over, and to my surprise and her great delight, 
they were successful, and she enters a more advanced 
class this autumn. Her letter to me announcing the 
fact is written in French, and is overflowing with her 
delight. " What happiness, what pleasure," she says ; 
" I felt so sad at the idea that I must remain two 
years in the same class, not only for myself, but for 
you !....! thank the good God who helped me so 
much.*' This child is one who can be governed 
entirely through her affections, which are wonderfully 
strong. During my illness of last winter, she was 
neglected with all other correspondents. She wrote 
again and again, and at last she poured out her poor 
little .heart thus : " My dear and good Lady, I can 
not think why I have no more letters from you. Are 
they lost on the way ? Are you angry with me ? Are 
you ill ? Dear Lady, I am so unhappy. I am afraid 

196 The Beginning of the Home. 

■■■ ■ •* - 

you are ill, for nobody tells me anything about you. 
As soon as I come home from school, I ask if there 
are any letters from you, but I must always hear that 
horrible word No. Dear Lady, I do beg you to an- 
swer me, or else I do not know what I sliall do. When 
I get up in the morning I pray, and I say, * O Lord, 
let me get a letter to-day,' but none ever comes. I 
long for a letter as if it were an angel, but the more 
I long for one, the more I do not get it. Then I ask 
God to keep you well, and to make me a better girl 

and give me patience I do not believe you 

have given me up. I think you will love me until 
the day that God calls me away. Will you not ? 
Oh ! I never forget you, and I love you so much." 



1874— 1875. 

Mrt. GouLTs Delight in the Home — Growth and 
Prosperity — A u Italian Friend— Rest and La-- 
bor in the Apennines — Boscolungo— Lessons in 
Charity— Marietta and Beppino — Letters from 
the Children — And Mrs, Gould's Answer — A 
Report Broken Off, 

as the enterprise grew and prospered, it is easy to 
see that Mrs. Gould found a peculiar delight in 
the Home, The destitute children whom she 
gathered in from the streets or from desolate dwellings, 
wound themselves about her heart. Her interest in the 
Schools, and her laborious zeal for them never flagged ; 
but the Home was yet dearer to her. It added vastly to 
her already excessive burden, but the burden was borne 
with delight, even when it was crushing her. One by one 
the number of six children with whom the establishment 
began in June, 1873, increased, within a year, to nineteen. 
It was never a question now how to find suitable candi- 
dates for the various schools, but how, out of a multitude 

of applicants, to choose the worthiest. Mrs. Howitt tells 


198 Last Labors. 

how, as the winter of 1873 approached, and it became 
necessary to close the windows, Doctor Gould, always 
watchful over the sanitary condition of the schools, in- 
sisted on reducing the number of pupils. Mrs. Gould at 
once began "weeding out" the less hopeful plants from 
her garden. "The school," says Mrs. Howitt, "has thus 
been reduced to about a hundred. But although a third 
have been dismissed from the school since Mrs, Gould's 
return, no less than a hundred and fifty have been refused 
admission since the removal of the schools, for want of 
accommodation in the present rooms." 

We have already had occasion to mention more than 
once the name of Signora Fua Fusinato. She was one of 
those exceptional women whose names have adorned in 
successive ages the history of Italian learning and litera- 
ture, and the only one who in recent times has received 
the honor of a Professor's chair in a University. But it 
marks the character of the present age of Italian progress, 
that this lady, instead of being occupied solely with the 
writing of poems or the delivery of university prelections, 
should be devoted to raising the prevailing low standard 
of female education, and to encouraging efforts for elevat- 
ing the children of the lowest of the people. It was at 
her earnest recommendation that a highly qualified teacher 
of the Italian language, Professor Rebecchini, was secured, 
who should enable the pupils to avoid the vulgarisms of 
their local dialects, and to use their national tongue, the 
exquisite language which is the common possession of all 
Italy, with correctness and elegance. 

Last Labors. 199 

• It was with consciously-failing strength, and yet with 
just exultation over the work that had risen now to " the 
full tide of successful experiment," that Mrs. Gould re- 
treated into the Apennines from the summer heats of 1874. 
What sort of place it was, she recovered strength, after a 
long period of prostration, to describe in a newspaper-let- 
ter, dated " Boscolungo, September 25th." 

The Pistoian Apennines, among whose recesses we 
have been hiding ourselves for a few weeks, are but 
little known to the ordinary traveler. He traverses 
them, it is true, on his way from Bologna to Florence, 
and has some glimpses of very wonderful scenery, 
but the greater part of his journey in this neighbor- 
hood is made inside the giant peaks. Scarcely does 
he emerge breathless from one tunnel before he 
plunges headlong into another. It is not until one 
leaves the railroads, and drives in among the folds of 
the mountains, that the beauty and sublimity of the 
Apennines are spread before the eye. To reach 
Boscolungo we were obliged to make a journey of 
some thirty miles from the nearest railroad station, 
that of Pracchia, passing through almost every variety 
of scenery: overhanging slopes, smiling with vine- 
yards and orchards; traversing gorges, down which 
huge boulders had been tumbled by fierce torrents ; 
mounting heights covered as far as the eye could 
reach with chestnut trees, rising still higher among 
forests of beech trees and finally creeping slowly up 
into the region of pine, spruce, and larch. The road 
is a very fine one ; the bridges are wonders of en- 

20O Last Labors. 

gineering, adorned with fountains and architectural 
ornaments, and each of the thousand twists and 
turns which the great highway makes in its upward 
course reveals some new beauty of scene. We ap- 
proached its summit just at evening, and the sound 
of the little chapel bell close beside our hotel was the 
only noise which broke the silence. The sharp zry 
of the cicala is heard in the sunshine, but at night the 
stillness is unbroken. 

Our hotel is a large, rambling building, divided off 
into apartments for the use of the Duke of Tuscany 
and his suite during the hunting season. The lower 
part of it was occupied by his customs officers. A 
little higher up in the road are planted two remark- 
ably ugly dwarf pyramids, bearing white balls on 
their heads, and the arms of the duke on their faces. 
These are at the very summit of the road, and mark 
the Tuscan boundaries. Thence the road curves and 
sweeps down toward Modena, from which we are 
distant fifty-nine miles. Opposite us there is a build- 
ing let out as tenements to the wood-cutters. A 
chapel, two- or three other tenement-houses, and the 
post-house, now also let out for apartments, compose 
the hamlet of Boscolungo, or Abetone, as its inhab- 
itants and neighbors call it, from the great forest 
of pine {pinus abies). The Ximenes road, which ter- 
minates at the pyramids, is met by that called the 
Via Giardinia, from its engineer, Giardini, who laid it 
*t5ut in the reign of Francis III., Duke of Modena, in 
,1777. It is not kept in quite as good order as that 
on the Tuscan side, but we found five miles of it 
a very delightful ride. A mountain which we have 

Last Labors. 201 

constantly in view, whose peak is shaped something 
like a human face, is called Furmalbo, and at its foot, 
washed by two mountain torrents, is the village 
which bears its name. There is nothing like a car- 
riage to be hired in our hamlet, and the walk to the 
village and back again, climbing the mountains, was 
a little too much for our unaccustomed feet. 

But the forester was our very good friend, and he 
is allowed a horse ; his superior officer has a caratella, 
and on a festival day horse, caratella and forester 
were at our command. So, one beautiful September 
morning the forester, radiant in blue-cloth uniform, 
the horse well fed and groomed, and the caratella, 
new-roped and with its wheels well greased, drew up 
at our door. The caratella is simply four bits of 
wood netted together with rope, upon which is 
perched a seat, the ropes forming a footstool and the 
body of the vehicle. The horse is tied, harnessed 
and roped in some inexplicable manner, and the pas- 
sengers miist be well provided with faith and patience, 
also with parasols for the sunshine and vast umbrel- 
las for the rain, both of which the clerk of the 
weather is sure to produce in unknown and unex- 
pected quantities during all autumn excursions in the 

We traveled to Furmalbo through burning sun- 
shine ; we returned in the midst of a second deluge, 
but we enjoyed our trip exceedingly. Furmalbo, so 
little known to the modern tourist, was well known to 
the Romans. Several of the houses are built out of 
their wonderful architectural remains. The church, 
which is a basilica, contains several pillars from old 

202 Last Labors. 

temples. Three of them are of the richest composite 
style, and others of plain Doric. It was built in the 
year looo, but has been restored, and horrible Renais- 
sance capitals placed above the ancient ones to sup- 
port the nave, which is higher than the aisles. The 
ceiling is of carved wood. 

On a height a little above the village is one of the 
ninety -nine castles of the Countess Matilda, who 
made of Furmalbo one of her favorite residences. 
The arms of the town are the three towers with which 
the castle was guarded. The ruins of one of them 
remain ; another has long ago been covered by a 
fruitful garden and shady pergola. Upon the foun- 
dations of the third its present owner has erected a 
modern tower, which is his maison de plaisance. The 
host, hearing thdX forestieri were in town inquiring if 
the ruins were to be seen, sent us word that we would 
be made welcome, and was on the spot to receive us. 
•But through what a heap of human misery we were 
forced to mount to reach the height from which 
Matilda looked forth upon her domains ! Foul, ill- 
smelling, steep, crooked streets, inhabited by so 
wretched a population that they scarcely seemed 
human. We were told that some of the frightful 
objects we saw were afflicted with leprosy, and, in- 
deed, they were like no human beings that we had 
ever seen. Even on these heights, under these smiling 
skies, breathing this pure air, man has succeeded in 
tainting all that God has made. The want of drain- 
age, the allowing of foul water to pour its poison into 
the living springs, the crowding of large families into 
one ill-ventilated room, has sufficed to make part of 

Last Labors. 203^ 

this beautiful mountain-side a vast pest-house, a laz- 
aretto of filth, disease and misery. 

We forgot all that we had seen, as the gates opened 
to admit us into the grounds of the old castle. There 
one neither sees nor hears nor smells aught that is 
offensive. Its owner has divided the new tower into 
three stories. The lower one is his studio, where he 
works in clay in a very respectable way for an amateur 
sculptor. The second is his study, where one of the 
party greatly enjoyed a perfect library of herbariums. 
The upper floor is a museum, where there are some 
very interesting remains of Roman and mediaeval 
armor, and one or two most valuable and exquisite 
bit? of bronze. One of these is the support of an 
incense -burner, or miniature furnace, wonderfully 
wrought, and more. perfect than anything to be found 
in the Naples Museum. One of the Roman helmets 
is very interesting. Its first owner had evidently been 
killed by a pike, and the hole in the helmet had been 
carefully repaired. Human life had long ago passed 
out of the opening in the bit of bronze, but the hel- 
met remained for generations to tell of the fierce war- 
fare of the former rulers of the soil. 

In a wonderful walk we sometimes take, we are out 
of sight of every mountain visible from our hotel. 
The path is through the thick beech wood, and sud- 
denly emerging on a sort of shelf of slate, the remains 
of an old quarry, we find range upon range of mount- 
ains closing in about us ; some bristling with pines, 
some utterly bare, some bearing cultivated fields 
upon their breasts. The nearer mountains fold over 
each other, and all lean toward a narrow valley where 

204 Last Labors. 

the busy waters of a torrent are making sweet music, 
but are invisible to our eyes. Upon our right the 
mountains draw back a little, and a smile or two of 
cultivated fields break over their sad-looking faces. 
But the pines are our neafer neighbors. Plunging 
in among them, we seem to plunge into an almost 
pathless wilderness, as yet scarcely trodden by the 
foot of man. But a slow tramp is heard among the 
spines of last year's cones, and a procession passes us. 
Men issue forth, bearing these enormous monarchs 
of the forest stripped of their branches, and shaped 
to take their places on the deck of some, as yet, un- 
constructed vessel. The men wear a sort of double 
bag upon their heads and shoulders, which keeps 
them from being bruised, and on this they lift the 
great burden. The forest is very extensive. One 
can get lost with all ease by going in almost any 

Nothing in Mrs. Gould's work was more characteristic 
of her than her way of resting from it. Among the wood- 
cutters and charcoal-burners, who constituted the entire 
population of little Boscolungo, far away from railroads 
and telegraphs and schools, exhausted with excessive work 
and care, and prostrated with the beginnings of a fatal 
sickness, it struck her that here was " an opportunity of 
teaching our children [in the schools at Rome] a lesson 
of self-denial for the good of others, as well as of linking 
together their interests and some of those of their little 
country people." The children of Boscolungo, she ob- 
served, spent the whole of the long summer days in idler 

Last Labors. 205 

ness. It is hardly necessary to add that she sought refresh- 
ment and comfort at once by opening a school for the poor 
little mountaineers. Each member of the party of tourists 
lent a hand. With Dr. and Mrs. Gould were the Rev. 
Somerset Burtchaell, a most devoted and large-hearted 
clergyman of the English Church, and his family, and the 
Rev. Pierce Conolly, of Florence. The story of this school 
was briefly told in Mrs. Gould's last and unfinished Report 
of the I talo- American Schools. 

We opened a little school for them which was 
regularly attended by about thirty girls and boys 
from four to fifteen years of age, none of whom could 
read or write, and most of whom did not know a 
single letter. It was rather hard work. There was 
not a shop within several miles, and of course no 
books could be obtained. But our friends painted a 
series of letters, syllables and words upon card-board. 
We rifled old newspapers of their headings, and 
pasted them upon postal cards, and our little people 
made in the few lessons we were able to give them, 
most extraordinary progress. We saw, too, in them 
the change we saw in early days among our Roman 
pupils. Their hands and faces grew more delicately 
white, their step more graceful, their shrill voices 
softer and sweeter. Sometimes we took them into 
the woods, which rang again with the echoes of their 
happy voices, as they sang the same hymns which so 
delight our own children. 

. We remained in the neighborhood so late that the 
fingers of Autumn were busy v/eaving among the 

2o6 Last Labors. 

beech-woods a robe wliich was, like Joseph's, a coat 
of many colors. The sheep were brought down from 
the higher peaks, and our children were set to watch 
them, or trudged sturdily along under heaps of chips 
and twigs. We used to hear the voices of the little 
shepherds above our heads, or of the wood-gatherers 
in the forests, singing "/^ sono un agnellino;'* and 
the chorus which broke forth when they met us again 
after a day or two's separation, was so full that we 
feel sure they will never forget that they are indeed 
Iambs of the Good Shepherd, although they had 
known but now of his infinite love and tenderness. 
Meanwhile, wc wrote to our children of the Home, 
that we needed books for our little scholars in the 
Apennines, asking them if they could not think of 
some megins by which they could be procured. Im- 
mediately there followed a little package of letters. 
Those who had a few soldi of pocket money, wished 
to give them at once ; those who had not, begged to 
deprive themselves of some little luxury in order to 
save their share in the gift ; not one was willing to be 
left out. Mr. Burtchaell, whose wife and sister taught 
constantly in our little mountain school, procured in 
Florence for each child, a copy of the First Reader, 
used in the municipal schools, which he distributed 
when he left the hamlet. These books were the gift 
of our children. To the father of one of the families, 
who, not being from the neighborhood, had learned 
to read, a hymn-book was given, and he promised to 
get the children together on festas, and endeavor 
at least to prevent them from forgetting what they 
had learned. We feel sure that even these efforts. 

Last Labors. 207 

.few and feeble as they were, will be heard from, in 
that blessed day, when the King shall " make up his 

Before dismissing our little mountaineers, I can not 
help mentioning an interesting circumstance that 
occurred one Sunday, when we had gathered them 
about us in one of the kitchens of the great, strag- 
gling building where we were lodging. A few miles 
from the hamlet where they live, is the home of a 
most extraordinary woman, Beatrice d'Onaglia. She 
is perfectly illiterate, over seventy years of age, un- 
able to read or write, but with a remarkable gift as 
an improz'isatrice. She was visiting us, and had come 
in to see the school. The children were listening 
most attentively to the story of the Babe of Bethle- 
hem. Beatrice listened also, but suddenly her voice 
rang out clear and strong, like the sound of some 
powerful wind-instrument. Slowly and distinctly, 
she began to repeat the same story in verse. Her 
eyes were fixed, with a gaze so distant and so earnest, 
that she seemed looking back through the ages upon 
the star in the East, the manger and the new-born 
Child. One could have imagined that the fable of 
the Sibyls had for the first time become a living 
truth, and that from the lips of one to whom the 
gift of second-sight was permitted, dropped words of 
inspired wisdom. It was a scene never to be for- 
gotten. A thrill ran through the little assembly, and 
we realized how surely God reveals his wondrous 
deeds, not to the wise and great ones of the earth, 
but to the humble and unlearned. If I should not 
be straying too far from my present subject, I could 

2o8 Last Labors. 

tell my friends much that is interesting of the inhab- 
itants of these high places of the earth, of the ill- 
doers who have no comforter, of the poor who have 
none to minister to them. Our friends were able to 
relieve some of their physical wants, to speak to 
some of them words of consolation and sympathy. 
But we had the prevailing feeling while we were 
among these poor people, that their pitiful cry 
was ever ascending to heaven, " No man careth for 
our souls." 

This example is only one of many that might illustrate 
that beautiful thing in Mrs. Gould's conduct of the schools 
— her training of the children to the love of doing good. 
The reward of a week's good behavior, when the schools 
were first begun, was the privilege of putting a soldo into 
the box for the Florence orphans. By-and-by she wel- 
comed as an able assistant in her work, the coming into 
the house, of one more helpless and weak than any of the 
children themselves; and counted that this had much to 
do with " the religious and moral growth of the institu- 
tion." And the distress of a party of desolate little waifs, 
left on the hands of the city officers, was made to iitinister 
to the Christian graces of her pupils. 

Rather more than a year ago, God gave to a mar- 
ried pair who have been connected with our institu- 
tion from its earliest days, a dear little babe. She 
was, of course, adopted by us all, and every one of 
our children aspires to be its little nurse. It is charm- 
ing to see how our roughest and rudest boys become 

Last Labors. 209 

in a moment as tender and careful as our gentlest 
girls, when trusted for a little while with the care of 
our little Lena. She reigns like a queen in our small 
community, and we have never yet found our chil- 
dren unwilling to acknowledge her sway. She teaches 
them lessons of unselfishness and tenderness, which 
perhaps they could learn in no other way. 

One thing which we especially try to impress upon 
our young people, is the duty and privilege of self- 
denial, and our success in this respect has been, we 
think, very remarkable. Last winter two ill-looking 
men were seen getting out of a third-class car at the 
Roman station, with a number of little ciocciari 
(peasants of the mountain frontiers of the Neapolitan 
provinces) under their charge. Suspicions were 
aroused that something wrong was taking place, and 
they were arrested. It was found on investigation 
that the children were from Sora, and had been sold 
by their wretched parents to these men, who were 
about to take them to Civita-Vecchia, and thence 
embark with them for Great Britain. They were to 
have swelled the number of organ-boys, chimney- 
sweeps, etc., which abound in London. The men 
were put in prison, and the children taken in charge 
by the city authorities. 

The newspaper Fanfulla opened a subscription for 
their benefit, and at the same time conferred a great 
benefit upon the children of Italy, by inviting them 
to come to the aid of those of their own age who 
were deprived of sweet homes and loving parents. 
For months we had been wondering how to teach 
our children that it is more blessed to give than to 

2IO Last Labors. 

receive, and we were delighted with this opportunity 
of impressing upon them this most necessary lesson. 
We told them the story of these poor children, and 
added that we so much desired to have them par- 
takers in the privilege of helping them. " But," we 
said, " you have no money to give them, and we must 
help you to get some. If you will work for them in 
your play-hours, we will give you five centimes (one 
cent) an hour, and if you will go without sugar in 
your coffee, you shall have five centimes fbr every 
time that you choose to take it unsweetened." Every 
one of them wished to help. A little book was given 
to each child, in which he or she wrote down the 
hours spent in work, and the days the sugar was not 
touched. We could not allow them to work except- 
ing on their half-holiday, for they are busy little 
people at all times, but their zeal was something tre- 
mendous. It was affecting to witness a scene pre- 
sented the first Saturday after this proposition was 
made to them. Every child was full of business 
under the surveillance of our young teacher-pupil. 
In a corner was the smallest little girl, seated in a lit- 
tle chair, the tears running down her cheeks. On 
inquiry, it was found that the task given her was to 
learn a piece of poetry, and one of the elder girls was 
desired to teach it to her, as she had not yet learned 
to read. She was crying from sheer fatigue. The 
teacher at once told her to run away and play. But 
the little thing refused : " No, no," she said, " I want 
my soldo to give to those poor children." And the 
same spirit ran through the whole community. They 
none of them failed to raise the sum apportioned to 

Last Labors. 2 1 1 

them, although every care was taken to make their 
self-denial entirely voluntary. When the sum decided 
upon had been raised, two of the best boys were sent 
to the Fanfulla office with it. But just as they were 
being dispatched, a note was put into my hands from 
their young mentor. All the summer they had been 
saving up the centimes, given thenv sometimes by 
their parents. They intended asking permission to 
spend them in getting up for themselves a little festa 
in the country. But they had all decided that they 
preferred to deprive themselves of this pleasure, for 
the sake of increasing their contribution for the bene- 
fit of the unfortunate little children of Sora. So the 
little, parcel of coppers went with the rest. I may 
add, that great as was the temptation, we have never 
given them the picnic which they had hoped to have. 

When the October frosts warned them away from Bos- 
colungo, the little party of foreigners went down the 
mountain-side, taking with them the blessings of the poor 
people. After all farewells were said, and they were well 
on their way down the steep road, a clear little piping 
voice, like a bird's note, was heard from far up the height, 
and they stopped to look and listen. Presently (the words 
of John Bunyan happen to tell the story exactly), " they es- 
pied a boy feeding his sheep. The boy was in very mean 
clothes, but of a fresh and well-favored countenance ; and 
as he sat by himself, he sang. Hark, said they, to what 
the shepherd boy saith. So they barkened, and he said : " 

To sono un agnellino 
Trovato dal pastor. 

212 Last Labors. 

The little shepherd in his sheepskin breeches and with his 
crook leaning against his shoulder, as he sat perched on a 
rock, outlined against the blue sky, and sang to his " silly 
sheep," was all unconscious how sweet and significant was 
the picture he was leaving on the memory of his benefac- 

There was business connected with her cherished plan 
of a kindergarten at Rome, which required Mrs. Gould 
to go round about by way of Venice, before returning to 
Rome. It was at Venice that she heard of a peculiarly 
touching case of distress among children, which she 
describes herself in a letter to children, which was widely 
circulated, in lithographed copies, among the American 

This autumn, when we were in Venice, the Wal- 
densian clergyman told us about Marietta and Bep- 
pino. Where they lived, the sea came in every day, 
and they never ate anything but polenta. This po- 
lenta is made of coarse corn-flour. It is not good at 
all, but they could not get enough even of that. One 
of the children died, and while we were in Venice, 
the poor mother died too, just of want. We began 
our " Home," some eighteen months ago, but when 
we made up our accounts, we found that we had 
spent three thousand dollars more than we had re- 
ceived. And yet, what could we do ? We could not 
let Marietta and Beppino starve and die, like their 
mother and the baby. We had to take them, and we 
did. The wife of the Waldensian clergyman gave 
them two warm baths to make them clean, and threw 

Last Labors, 213 

away their old, dirty rags. Then she made them 
some dean night-clothes, and put them in a nice bed 
to sleep. The next day she dressed them in new 
clothes. Marietta laughed and cried when they 
were tried on her. A kind young lady who had been 
studying in Venice how to teach our children took 
them, and brought them to the Italo-American Home 
in Rome. Dear children, you know what a home 
means. It means father and mother, little brothers 
and sisters, happy play, learning lessons, sitting down 
to dinner almost before you are hungry, sleeping in 
clean, soft beds at night. It means mother*s love, 
father's kind words, and the blessing of the Father in 
heaven. We give what we can in our Home ; the 
love without which children can not be good and 
happy, beds that are clean, if not soft. They have 
their soup every day, and rice, or maccaroni, or beans. 
Three times a week, they have a piece of meat. We 
should like to give them pudding on Sunday, but we 
can not afford it. And it is no great matter. Most 
of them have grown fat and rosy, because they have 
enough to eat. They learn lessons every day, and 
the older ones are taught to print. Every day, too, 
they are taught from the Bible, and they have their 
play-hours, when they make a great deal of noise, 
but we do not mind that, because it does them good. 
And so we try to do our part ; to be the fathers and 
mothers of these children. And now I want to know 
if you will not do your part toward being their 
brothers and sisters ? Sometimes we are afraid that 
we may have to send them away, because we can not 
get money enough to buy them food, and pay for a 

214 Last Labors. 

house for them to live in. By and by we who 
have founded this Home shall die, and sometimes we 
are very sad, because we do not know what will be- 
come of these poor children then. But if the Sunday 
scholars at home would promise to send us what they 
can every year, we should not feel so. What do you 
say? Will this Sunday-school help us? May we be 
sure that the children we have now will be fed, and 
clothed, and educated until they can take care of 
themselves? May we take care of others who have 
poor, ignorant, v/icked parents, or who have no father 
and mother, and bring them up to be Christian men 
and women ? We tell them that they must work and 
study hard now, so that they can be teachers them- 
selves by and by. Most of them are willing to work 
in their play-hours, or to go without sugar in their 
coffee, so as to help children who are poorer than 
themselves. This makes us hppe that by-and-by, 
when they have learned to be printers, or teachers, 
when they have grown to be men and women, when 
they are earning their own living, they will be glad 
to help to take care of our Home, when they have 
left it. But we must wait some years before that 
time will come. And so, I beg you, dear children, to 
help us to keep up and enlarge our Italo-American 

These two children. Marietta and Beppino Bartoli, were 
so peculiarly dear to Mrs. Gould that we add from her un- 
finished report of 1875 some additional details about them : 

The parents were members of the Waldcnsian 

Last Labors. 215 

Church. The man worked as a mason, receiving a 
franc and a half or two francs a day, and on this 
scanty sum (often not earned, because of the scarcity 
of building work going on in Venice) a family of 
eight lived, or, rather, starved. In order to keep life 
in their poor bodies, the mother was in the habit of 
taking the youngest child in her arms, and through 
the sleet and biting cold of the winter, standing on 
one of the bridges to beg for a few centimes. The 
child died of the exposure and of want. The home 
of the family was in one of those cellars which can 
exist only in Venice, into which the sea enters daily. 
.... Not long after the birth of another baby, the 
poor mother fell ill of a disease contracted through 
the unwholesomeness of the atmosphere and the 
scanty nourishment. She was buried by charity, and 
then the living were to be thought of We were 
urged to come to their help, and the children were 
brought to us. Seldom was a sadder picture of in- 
fant misery presented. Thin, pale, aged little faces ; 
little feet dragging wearily to support weak little 
bodies ; dull eyes from which all the glorious light 
of childhood seemed to have faded ; oh ! it was piti- 
ful. We should like to have shown our friends the 
two little ones whom we finally decided to take, as 
we saw them first, and then again as we saw them the 
night before they left Venice, after they had been fed 
and bathed and clothed in clean night-dresses, sleep- 
ing the sweet sleep of infancy, in a bed lent us by the 
wife of the Waldensian clergyman. They were brought 
to Rome by the teacher-pupil, of whom mention has 
been made in our former Reports, and I doubt if two 

2i6 Last Labors, 

happier, lovelier children are gathered to-night about 
any fireside. 

Before transcribing Mrs. Gould's letter to the Home, in 
which she tells her children of her acquisition of this new 
treasure, it is well to give two of the little notes that had 
come to her, and to which she refers in her reply. The 
first is in an elaborate and beautiful handwriting : 

My Dear Directress, Mrs. Gould : 

I am very sorry that you are ill ; but we must always say to 
the Lord : " Not mine, but thy will be done." 

And I hope that soon you will be able to come with us to stay 
ten days, as you promised ; and that you soon will come to give 
us our lessons, and to live as a family once more — father, mother, 
sons, and daughters. 

My dear mother, I keep all my trust in God. With a kiss I 
clos my little note. I am your * 

Afiectionated son. 

Rome, 12 June, 1874. 

(Exuse me the mistakes). 

The following is in the cramped and irregular hand of 
a very little child : 

Rome, \^th Sept,, 1874. 

Dear Madame : — The other day when we came back from 
school, Mme. Gotelli gave me a very pretty letter from Miss 
Mary and a card. The paper was very pretty, with a big fly on 
the envelope. I shall write to her very soon. I have put by for 
the poor boys of your mountains six sous. Tell us wich books 
we must buy, and we will ask Mr. Gamieri to send them to you. 
Scarcely can we pass to our new school, because there is the 

Last Labors. 217 

engine and so much earth all along the street, and to-day is all 
wet ; it is raining very much. The street Babuino is all in a 
muddly. Yesterday it is worse. Mrs. Gotelli does not correct 
our letters, only she tells us the words we do not know. 

Good-bye, Miss, 

and I am your devoted 

Miss, pardon our Luigi. 

Venice, October 21, 1874. 

My dear Children : — I thank you for all your 
good letters, some of which have been really excel- 
lent. I can not answer them as I would like, for I 
have a great deal of writing to do just now. But you 
shall have, at least, one letter. I want you to know 
that Signorina is ready to take her diplo- 
ma as kindergartnerin ; she will have to study still 
further to receive her other diplomas, and I do not 
see how she can do this at Rome, so that I have 
proposed to her to stay here a few months more. 
But she is homesick away from us and wants to come 
back to Rome. She could do it, if you would be 
faithful and not make her so much trouble as you did 
last year. The larger children ought by this time to 
have conscientious principles and t(i,help us with the 
little ones. Write to the Signorina whether you 
wish her to come back and will be good to her. 

And now I have something important to tell you. 
Less than a week ago a woman died here leaving 
several children. The father earns a franc and a half 
or two francs a day when he can find work; and you 
can judge how wretched they are now that their 
mother is gone. I have thought of taking two of the 

2i8 Last Labors. 

children-^a girl of about ten, and a little boy nearly 
six years old, but looking much younger. But this 
is the way the matter stands. You know that I do 
not take such little children as this. They do not 
know how to wash nor dress themselves. You larger 
children will seem to them so grown up and so edu- 
cated that if you set them a bad example they will 
be sure to follow it. In that case, I should be doing 
him harm and not good. Ought I to take him ? It 
depends on you. . Are you ready to deny yourself 
on his account ? Each one of you, will you love him, 
and try always to set him a good example 1 Will the 
older ones take turns in washing and dressing him, 
and taking care of him, comforting him sometimes, 
* poor little orphan, and letting him have a share of 
your little books? You will be ready, perhaps, to 
promise everything for these poor children. But 
wait a little. Go and ask God for Christ's sake to 
help you. Tell him you are poor sinners, proud 
of the little good you do, prone to think you can 
do everything, when you can do nothing without 

Once, when Jesus Christ was here on earth, there 
came to see him a young man, handsome, intelligent, 
well educated, amiable. Every one loved him. Jesus 
loved him ; but he said to him, " One thing thou 
lackest." So it is with you. We love you for your 
smiling faces, your quick minds, your afiFectionate- 
ness ; we love you because you are ours. But if 
Jesus Christ were to come to our house to-day, I am 
afraid he would say to each of you, "One thing thou 
lackest." This one thing is to love him ; to do 

Last Labors. 219 

rights not because you love to be praised or rewarded 
for it, but because you love him. My dearly-loved 
children, go to him to-day. Each one of you tell 
him you want to be his true children. Ask him for 
help to do your duty by each other, and especially by 
these little children, if I bring them. To-morrow go 
to Signor Garnieri and Signora Gotelli and tell them 
whether I am to send the little children. 

I must let you know that I have been suffering 
from fever for two days, and am still in bed, so that 
I must say good-bye for the present. I had not told 
you of my leaving Boscolungo and the children there. 
We distributed among them the books you sent, and 
they were very thankful. The forester promises to 
get them together to read and sing every holiday. 

Give salutations to every one, from 

Your affectionate 

Emily B. Gould. 

Quoting from the foregoing letter in her unfinished 
Report for the year 1874-5, the writer adds: 

It is thus that we strive to bring our children face 
to face with their Heavenly Father in every act of 
their lives. On one occasion, when our '' fille du reg- 
imenty* as we playfully call the baby, was drooping, 
we wished that her mother should take her for a day 
or two to the country. She felt that she could not 
leave the children. But we got them together, and 
asked them to promise that they would be good dur- 
ing her absence. We made it a serious affair with 

2 20 Last Labors. 

them, and they all promised but one. He was sent 
away for the moment, and afterward taken apart, 
and asked why he refused to promise. " Because," 
said he, " if I promised and afterward forgot and did 
something wrong, I should tell a lie." The little fel- 
low was asked if he was not willing to promise to try 
and be good. That promise he was willing to make ; 
I need scarcely add that he kept it. 

For one who loves children, the happiness of the 
members of our Home is one of its most delightful 
features. When we are absent from them, we can 
scarcely recall any but smiling countenances. They 
seem always to find some fresh pleasure; a visit, a 
walk, some wonderful exploit of the ^^ fille du regi- 
ment^' a difficulty vanquished, a word of commenda- 
tion, a new scholar, a new lesson, even a new rule ; 
each and every one of these is a reason for the buoy- 
ancy of childhood to manifest itself 

On one occasion our youngest child was found not 
to be well, and was sent to our own house, to see the 
physician. I shall never forget the tenderness with 
which the " little mamma " lifted the child in her 
arms and carried her away. When she reached the 
house, she found the doctor absent, and was obliged 
to return to the institution, leaving the child to await 
his return. Soon after, the directress went home, 
and was met at the door by the little one, who, with 
the tears streaming down her face, ran to her with 
outstretched arms, and the petition, " Send me home, 
Signora; oh ! will you not send me home?" It was 
an affecting thought that every tender caress, every 
loving v/ord, every happy hour — in short, all that she 

Last Labors, 221 

had known of the joy and blessings of childhood, 
were encircled within the walls which stranger hands 
had provided for her refuge 

At this point, the writer's hand was interrupted by the 
onset of her last sickness. 


April, 1875. 

American Citizens Abroad in War-time — For^ 
bearwncefrom Hard Words — Letter to a Colored 
Citizen — 714^ Church of Rome and Slavery-—' 
Prospect of Literty in. Romanism — The Regener-m 
ation of a Race, 

THE patriotic American whose duty kept him 
abroad during the dreadful years from 1861 to 
1865, had some hardships to bear and conflicts to 
maintain that were spared to those in the field. The an- 
guish of waiting from one mail to another, in those days 
before the Cable, for news which, in moments of crisis, 
was to decide the fate of the Republic ; the duty of re- 
pelling the ignorant insolence to which one was liable, 
especially from a certain class of ill-bred English people, 
anywhere on the Continent; the duty of keeping oneself 
constantly and accurately prepared with information for 
the benefit of those who were willing to understand the 

matter; — these were burdens that rested heavily on the 

A Letter from a Sick-Bed. 223 

heart of Mrs. Gould, throughout the. years of the war. 
Withal, she was not unmindful of another, like them, but 
more congenial to a mind like hers — the duty of encourag- 
ing and helping those nearer the field or on the field by 
words of cheer from a distance, and the benefit of such a 
comprehensive, bird's-eye view of the conflict as can best 
be got through such a long perspective. Every citizen 
had to act as an accredited representative of the United 
States to the citizens of other countries. This sponta- 
neous, unofficial diplomacy was of priceless value to the 
nation. It is doubtful whether the services of ambassadors 
at courts were more gravely important to the national 
cause, than the services of Henry Ward Beecher and An- 
drew White, and the less conspicuous services of many 
others, as ambassadors to the people. It could hardly 
serve any good purpose, at this day, to reproduce incidents 
illustrating the zeal and resolution as well as tact with which 
Mrs. Gould served her native country and the cause of 
liberty in this way. But it is pleasant to see that there 
was not so much of tact and discretion in her social di- 
plomacies, but that she knew the right moment to let fly in a 
fury of righteous indignation, and sin not. Some of 
those extraordinary vacations of hers, in which she sougjht 
repose in doing what to other people commonly seems like 
work, were devoted to diligent study of national ques- 
tions. The ninth volume of her Journal records the 
summer of 1862 (volume I. begins in June, 1S60) spent on 
the Voirons, near Geneva. Forty pages of this are occu- 
pied with a careful abstract of Professor Cairns' work on 

2 24 ^ Letter from a Sick- Bed, 

the Civil War, which she had been studying, and in part 
committing to memory. 

But the most complete expression of her patriotic feel- 
ing, and of her sympathy with those sentiments of human- 
ity and justice and love of the kingdom of God on earth, 
which in religious minds were wrapped up with a true 
patriotism, was written, as we may almost literally say, by 
her dying hand, ten years after the war had closed. It is 
worthy of being transcribed here in full, both as the utter- 
ance of the best type of American feeling, and as the 
latest important production of its author's pen. Withal 
there is an additional reason v/hy it should be given here 

Many who read this story of the life of a Protestant 
Christian lady at the capital of the Roman Catholic 
Church, will be surprised, and some will be disappointed, 
to find hardly a word of denunciation or of ridicule, 
where there was so much (in the earlier timei) of outrage 
upon personal rights, so much that was offensive to the 
moral sense, and so much, at the same time, that was 
irresistibly provoking to so quick a sense of the ludicrous 
as Mrs. Gould's. There were many good and Christian 
reasons for this forbearance — reasons which it might be 
wished that others would ponder before speaking unad- 
visedly on such matters, either with their lips or with their 
pens. But among these reasons was not the lack of clear 
knowledge or strong conviction. And when, by-and-by, 
the occasion for speaking arose, there was no uncertain 
sound in her utterance. 

A Letter from a Sic k- Bed. 225 

The occasion presented itself in the month of April, 
1875, in the raidst of the most pressing cares for her great 
family of needy children, and when the prostration of 
fatal sickness was already beginning to overcome her. 
An American paper reached her, into which was copied 
from a Roman Catholic journal a letter written by one 
of the most prominent and influential colored citizens of 
the United States, in which, piqued by what seemed to 
him a neglect of his people on the part of Protestant 
Christians, he half recommended them to join the Roman 
Catholic communion. Such a recommendation, even 
though only half serious (and as the writer freely declared 
afterward, it was less than half serious, being meant 
rather as an indirect argument to those to whom it was not 
addressed), might nevertheless be the occasion of most 
serious mischief among uninstructed minds; and Mrs. 
Gould, feeling herself to be called to the duty by many 
Providential indications, replied from her sick-bed, through 
the press, in the following letter to her colored friend : 

107 Via Babuino, Rome, Italy, ) 
April 21, 1875. ( 

My dear Friend : — A copy of your letter to the 
Pilots as reprinted in the Congregationalist^ has just 
reached me in Rome. Anything from your pen 
would be of interest to me, for my earliest recollec- 
tions are connected with your family. Although I 
lost my mother at a very early age, I can perfectly 
remember her expressions of respect for your parents ; 
and my father, the late Dr. James C. Bliss, was for 

226 A Letter from a Sick-Bed. 

more than thirty years their beloved physician. As 
an only child, I was brought into relations of uncom- 
mon sympathy with him, and I know well how greatly 
he loved and respected your mother. I remember his 
grief when she exchanged her earthly home for the 
better land. Your father was our life-long friend, 
and his memory will always be held in honor by us. 
I remember one beautiful incident in his life. The 
family of his parents* old master, if not his own (for 
here my memory is not quite clear), became reduced 
to poverty. Your father was applied to by them for 
relief. He loaded a sloop with provisions and other 
necessaries for them ; and so fed and supported those 
who had lived upon the unpaid toil of his family. I 
remember much that is interesting in your history, 
and not one thing that does not do you honor: 
from the extinguishing of the great New York fire 
by your father, to the school-boy letters written from 
France by your younger brother. And so, you will 
let me say a word to you in all friendship with regard 
to your letter to the Pilot, 

I recognize fully the frightful effects of the institu- 
tion of slavery. I know what it has brought upon 
the white race — the frightful immorality, the deaden- 
ing of the moral sense, the perjury, the treachery, 
the rebellion, and at last the fratricidal war ; the fire- 
sides it has left forever desolate, the battle-fields it 
stained with rich young blood, the Rachels weeping 
for their children, who will never be comforted until 
God shall wipe away all tears. I know that it trans- 
formed human beings into incarnate demons. I re- 
member Libby Prison, and its infernal horrors. I 

A Letter from a Sick- Bed. 227 

have heard women, elegant, refined women, calling 
themselves Christian women, wish that they had the 
power to sink the whole North into the ocean. These 
are some of the effects of slavery upon our race. 
And I contend that they are worse than the suffer- 
ings it entailed upon yours. It killed your bodies ; it 
destroyed our immortal souls ! And can we wonder, 
you and I, that this deadly poison still continues 
to work in our veins! Alas! we too long clasped the 
serpent to our bosoms. We may not yet cease to 
feel its sting. 

But to answer your letter more particularly. I 
shall say little of the political side of the question. 
If more is needed to be said upon this head than has 
been already .said by the Congregationalist, it must 
be left to abler pens than mine. I would simply 
remind you, that every persecution of the black man 
at the North, every mob which has disgraced its 
cities, was headed by Roman Catholics. They sacked 
your houses, insulted your women, and did your men 
to death. . They broke into the Colored Orphan 
Asylum, they kept you in hiding for your lives, until 
the city was put under martial law for your protec- 
tion, and I have yet to learn that oae of these 
wretches was placed under the discipline of his 
Church for his deeds of cruelty. But I wish to speak 
more particularly of the religious side of the question. 
You speak of our Protestant faith as '* cant,** Dear 
friend, was the religion of your parents and mine 
" cant ? *' When my father stood beside your mother 
in the land of Beulah, and gave her into the hands of 
the ministering angels, was their sweet converse, 

^ I 

2 28 A Letter from a Sick- Bed. 

were their prayers " cant ? " While I write these 
words, my heart is stirred within me, as I know yours 
will be when you read them. Ah, beloved ones, fear 
not. Your God shall be our God ; your Saviour our 
Saviour ; your Protestant Church ours. God forbid 
that your children should prostrate themselves at the 
feet of the man who worships himself, and calls upon 
the world to worship him as God ; who has but now 
stigmatized those of his own faith who deny him the 
attributes of Omnipotence as " damned heretics ; " 
who, had he the power, would light again the fires of 
the Inquisition and put to death the children of God's 
saints. My lot has been cast for nearly fifteen years 
under the shadow of the Vatican, and I know how 
deep and baneful is that shadow ; that if slavery has 
destroyed its thousands, Vaticanism has ruined, soul 
and body, its tens of thousands. I know that so cor- 
rupt are the highest in clerical dignity in this city, 
that decent women will not live as servants in the 
houses where they visit, because they fear their out- 
rageous insults. I know that an ecclesiastic who has 
stood for years on the steps of the papal throne, 
neither knows nor cares how many children he has. 
That their name is legion, he and everybody else here 
knows. I know that an American young girl who 
was copying in the Vatican, had her rights disputed 
by an Italian woman, who based her pretensions on 
the simple fact that she was a cardinal's plaything. I 
know that a Roman artist of distinction was con- 
demned to long years of poverty because his wife 
would not break her marriage vow for one of these 
same red-petticoated corrupters of society. I know — 

A Letter from a Sick-Bed. 229 

what do 1 npt know — of the horrors of this Church, 
here in its center, in the abode of its head. 

And do you dream of liberty in the embrace of 
this Church ? Then I will tell you what that liberty 
is. When the Pope was king, I was myself dragged 
before the police to answer for the crime of having 
collected money to save orphan girls from starvation, 
or worse. Our house was again and again visited by 
the police, and your friend, Dr. Gould, summoned 
before it, because we had sometimes gathered to- 
gether our own country-people in our own hired 
house to worship God after the religion of our 
fathers. I saw in Florence, a few years ago, a woman 
who had been imprisoned for three years here in the 
Inquisition, and theri banished, because she had had 
the Bible in her house. Just after the Pope's return 
from Gaeta, Bibles were taken out of the house of 
our consul and publicly burned. (This consul is liv- 
ing in Rome now, and I have the story from his own 
lips). Yes, this Bible, which your mother and mine 
revered, whose precepts they followed, was burned, 
year after year, in Rome on the Piazza di San Carlo. 
Here, in the old days, the Pope's subjects were 
forced to show their communion-tickets once a year, 
or be imprisoned ; and men and women took the com- 
munion over and over again, and sold their tickets 
to those who would not commune and yet were 
afraid of the priests ; thus, as a Catholic lady said to 
me, they traded in what they believed to be the real 
flesh and blood of their Lord and Saviour. You say 
that " the Catholic Church is strong enough with the 
members of its communion to sweep from existence 

230 A Letter from a Sick-Bed. 

anything within its fold which seeks to mar the unity 
of its own brotherhood." But I tell you that it is 
so weak here in its stronghold that most of the young 
men of Italy, and at least three-quarters of the young 
men of Rome, are infidels to-day; and, as one of 
them said to me not two hours ago, " We are so be- 
cause we have seen the corruption of the Roman 
Catholic Church." It held its followers here once by 
force ; it can do so no longer. 

Is this the liberty you would impose upon your 
country and your race ? Remember, I am my father's 
child, and I can not tell you anything which I do 
not believe and know to be the solemn truth. I have 
never before exposed what I know of the errors and 
corruption of this Church, principally for the sake of 
the noble band of men and women who, refusing to 
acknowledge the late blasphemous dogmas forced 
upon the consciences of the Roman Catholic Church, 
are striving for reform within its communion. There 
are no men and women on earth whom I more truly 
respect than those "damned heretics," as Pius IX. 
styles them. Theirs shall be the martyrs' palm, as 
theirs is the martyrs' cross. But even for their sakes 
I can not keep silence when I see the frightful dan- 
ger to which your race is exposed. For you, and 
this noble band alike, there is no choice. You must 
be the slaves of the Vatican, or its accursed. I ad- 
jure you by the names of those Vv^e hold dearest and 
best, do not enchain yourself; do not fetter your 
children with the gyves which dangle from the Vati- 
can throne. You were born a freeman ; you may not 
put your feet into the stocks, your hands into the 

A Letter from a Sick-Bed. 231 

manacles which the Church of Rome holds out to 
jou. Here, it is true, you may kneel beside a prince 
at St. Peter's; you may kiss the toe of the hideous 
bronze image in its nave just before or after he shall 
have pressed his lips to its feet ; your son may walk 
beside the child of a descendant of an Etruscan lu- 
cumo; and yet, both prince and black man — your 
child and the heir of Prince Massimo — will be alike the 
bondsmen of Antichrist himself, if you give in your 
allegiance to Pius IX. and the Jesuit directors of his 
so-called conscience. 

And now do you ask me what you are to do? I 
am the younger, and I am a woman*; but you will let 
me answer you as I think my father would have done. 
In the first place, you are to suffer for Christ's sake, 
as he suffered for yours. Do not forget that Abra- 
ham- Lincoln and John Brown were white men, and 
that they suffered unto death for the black man. No 
race ever rose from degradation without being made 
perfect through suffering. Then hold fast your ProU 
estant faith, with the liberty it gives you of a free 
Bible ; of life eternal, independent of the fis^t of a 
sinful man ; of heaven without a purgatory ; of c\ 
Saviour who wills no intercessor between you and 
him. If you have lost this faith, go and S^ek it again 
at your Saviour s feet, from, your mother's God, 

But this is not all. Consecrate your life to the re- 
generation of your rage. In order to do this, you 
must look at things as they are. Your race is not at 
present the equal of ours. How many peers have 
you anaong men of your own color. Strange indeed 
it would be if the black man, after long generations 

232 A Letter from a Sic k- Bed. 

of oppression and ignorance, could be the equal of 
the white man, with all his advantages. Admit this 
fact, and go to work to raise up a generation which 
shall be equal to yourself and your children in intelli- 
gence and culture. Do what we are doing here 
among the neglected children of the former subjects 
of the Pope ; not one of whom among the many 
hundreds I examined during the first two years of my 
work (and many of them were from twelve to fifteen 
years of age) knew their right hand from their left ; 
while not one of a large class to whom I had told in 
detail the story of the Babe of Bethlehem, knew of 
whom I had been speaking. (This is a specimen of 
the education which the Romish Church gives its chil- 
dren — ^where it dares). Take, then, the youth of your 
race, the little ones, free now, thank God, and educate 
them so that they can stand side by side with their 
white brethren. Do all that you can to benefit the 
land in which God has given to you and your children 
a birthright. Put yourself shoulder to shoulder with 
those white men who will not see our land the king- 
dom of the Vatican, or the hunting-ground of a so- 
called Southern aristocracy. If they deny you equal 
social rights with theniselves, very well. Bear it ; 
you are not to hope to accomplish everything you 
could wish. Something may, nay must, be left for 
another generation to do. But there is a great work 
to be done in our day. Let us do it, never forgetting 
the God of our fathers. So shall he fight for us and ' 
give us the victory. 

Your affectionate friend, 

Emily B. Gould. 


May — August, 1875. 

Perugia—Rome — Perugia again — Sickness and 
Death— Grief of the Children— Little De^pino 
follows his ''Dear Lady:' 

THE scene of the saddest chapter of our story is in 
that beautiful town of the Umbrian hills, Perugia, 
a favorite resort of Mrs. Gould during all the 
period of her residence at Rome. With its history, 
ancient and modern, its monuments of antiquity, its ob- 
jects of art, its natural beauties, its quiet little industries, 
its social and domestic life both among the high and 
among the lowly, it occupies a larger space in the volumes 
of her journal than any other place except Rome and 
Florence. When, in May, that restless right hand of hers 
was compelled at last to rest in the midst of her un- 
finished work, and the warning of physicians equired her 
to flee to the mountains for her life, it was naturally 
enough that she found her way at once to the congenial 

home of a gentle Italian family with whom she had been 


234 *^f^^ Rests from Her Labors. 

wont to spend part of the early summer in villeggiatura. 
The hope of her recovery lay in her long and uninter- 
rupted rest, and relief from care. But the question that 
she put so tenderly to the Sunday-school children of 
America, " Who will take care of my poor children ? " 
kept pressing upon her mind, and after a fortnight's re- 
freshment among cherished friends and scenes at Perugia, 
she hurried back to Rome, arriving on the 29th of May. 
Three days afterward, June ist, she was seized with the 
mortal illness from which she w^as never more to rally. 

A letter of one of the friends who tenderly watched her 
through the three months of this sickness, gives us the full 
history of it. 

It commenced with such fearful pain that it was 
feared her delicate frame could not bear up against if. 
The days wore on and brought her no relief. A dis- 
tinguished Italian physician, now a member of the 
Italian Parliament, who had been Garibaldi's chief 
medical officer in all his campaigns in Italy, took a 
profound interest in the invalid who had sacrificed 
herself for the good of Italian children, and visited 
her almost daily as long as he remained at Rome. 
When the regular medical adviser of his family had 
left the city. Dr. Gould called in Dr. Bacelli, a man 
whose reputation now extends throughout Europe^ 
to take charge of tha case. His attendance lasted 
up to the period when at his express desire the 
patient was removed to Perugia. 

Although it was so late in the summer — a time 
when the exodus of foreign visitors and residents from 

She Rests from Her Labors. 235 

the Eternal City is usually complete — by a providen- 
tial exception, as Mrs. Gould herself remarked again 
and again, there were this year some of her personal 
friends who had remained in Rome in defiance of 
the heat. Some half dozen in all watched, with 
'her nurses, night and day, alternating their services 
and doing all in their power to alleviate the pangs 
and support the strength of the dear sufferer. Each 
of these will bear loving testimony to the sweetness 
and patience with which the great agony was borne 
— how, while it wrung from her lips uncontrollable 
cries of appeal to God for mercy and relief, it never 
led her into forgetfulness of the sympathetic suffering 
of those who were with her. How often she prayed 
that she might lose the pov/er of making those cries 
aloud, and begged her husband to press his hand 
upon her mouth and prevent her voice from being 
heard ! She was constantly expressing her fears lest 
the health of those at her bedside might suffer, im- 
ploring them to take rest and food, and wine ; to 
pardon her the pain she must cause them. "God 
grant that if I am to die, I may not last long enough 
to wear you all out ; " ** Nothing can ever repay your 
kindness to me ; " *' Pray, that I may not make you 
all suffer so ! " — such were the expressions that all 
who were with her will remember. More than once 
when she was beseeching her Heavenly Father that 
he would send Death to relieve her, her husband 
asked her if she could realize what life would be to 
him without her, and if in that case she could ask to 
be taken from him ? whether she would consent, were 
he in her state of suffering, that he should pray to be 

236 She Rests from Her Labors. 

taken away and leave her desolate? "Yes/* she 
said, "were you suffering the agony I am in I would 
wish you to go, to have you released from it." 

Mrs. Gould was removed from Rome in a condition 
of such acute agony that we scarcely thought she 
could reach Perugia alive. The journey is described 
by Dr. Gould to have been a fearful one. At Perugia 
she was received into the house of some dear old 
friends, an Italian family, with whom she had been 
in the habit of passing weeks at a time, en pension^ 
in past years. She had every care and comfort here 
that the heart could desire. Some of her intimate 
friends were passing the summer months in this, the 
coolest spot among the Umbrian hills. The air of 
Perugia had always proved most beneficial to her. 
We could not but believe in Dr. Bacelli's encouraging 
words, when he left her bedside in Rome. "Take 
courage, Doctor," he said, " your wife's illness is one 
that will be long and painful, but is not dangerous. 
Remember my words." Who would not have been 
buoyed up by such a sentence from a medical man 
of such eminence? 

We could not venture to interrupt this sacred and solemn 
story for a less reason than to introduce here some of the 
English letters of her children, addressed to her during 
this summer, that were a solace of the dying woman in 
the midst of her agonies. We give them in the order of 
their dates. They are written, some on scraps of paper 
that might have been torn from the leaf of a copy-book, 
and some on dainty little colored and decorated sheets 
such as children like. 

She Rests from IIe>r Labors. 237 

Rome, June 12, 1875. 

My dear Directress : — I'm very sorry because you are 
ill, I will be very glad if you come yet with we. II Signer 
Gamieri pray for you, also we first of the dinner we will do one 
little pray. Good by take sixteen kiss of your boy. No more 
Naughty but Good. 

My dear Mother Mrs. Gould :— I am very glad that you 
are a little better, and I am certain that God heard our suppli- 
cations in Mr. Gamieri's church, and Mr. Ribetti said the prayer 
about II o'clock. 

The Lord's my light and saving health, who shall make me 
dismay'd ? My life's strength is the Lord, of whom then shall I 
be afraid? (Psalms xxvii. v. i*'.) The Lord's my Shepherd, 
I'll not want, he makes me down to lie in pastures green ; he 
leadeth me the quite waters by. (Psalms xxiii, v. i.) My dear 
mother, never forget these two verses ; and I hope you will be 
better every day, and receive my respect and thankfulness's sen- 
timents from your 

Aflfhated Son, 

Rome, 21 June, 1875. . - 

July 24/^, 1875. 

Dear Madam : — I am very sorry that you are ill so long, 
i should like to be able to help you but I am only a little girl 
and can do nothing else but to be good and pray for you — ^and 
this I never forget dear Madam. 

I kiss your hands. 

In morning, 12 August, 1875. 

My dear Mrs. Gould : — I am very sorry that you are ill 
and fear I have made you so by being naughty. Now I will try 
to be good and not make you sorry any more. 

I pray that Jesus may make me good so that when you come 
back you will see a change in me such as will make you glad. 

238 She Rests front Her Labors. 

I have asked him to make you well but fear he has not heard, 

because I was naughty. I wish you good health and happy 

days. I am 

Your scholar 

Dear Mother — Mrs. Gould : — I cannot choose words for 
to explain to you my gladness when I heard from Miss Marietta 
that you was a little better. Oh ! may you continue so, until 
you will be able to come with us once more before we die. 

Dear Mother, I hope that God who is the Doctor of doctors, and 
the King of kings will make you better, and enable you to come 
to give us English lessons. I believe that it is His will you 
should come again with us. 

Receive the respects of your 
Affectionate Son 

Rome, i\ August, 1875. • 

Rome, 25 August, 1875. 

My dear Benefactor : — I am very glad that you are bet- 
ter, and I hope that you will soon come to Rome, with us, and 
speak us in English about many things. Every day we remem- 
ber you, and I think that our God have heard our supplications. 
Good by my dear dear mother and I am 

Your son. 

We resume the narrative of the dying woman's friend. 

The change of air from Rome to Perugia made no 
improvement. Her sufferings were to endure just so 
long as her already well-nigh exhausted frame could 
hold out. During the last ten days, the crises of 
pain became less acute, and there were longer and 
longer intervals of comparative rest. This, which 
naturally gave us gleams of hope, was really the sign 
of the approaching end. Her mind was perfectly 

She Rests from Her Labors. 239 

clear ; she dictated letters, chiefly having reference to 
her schools ; she begged to have letters from all " her 
children ; *' she was as full of bright, eager interest 
about her friends as ever, when almost suddenly 
came the great change. 

For the last twenty-four hours of her existence she 
sank into a lethargy and breathed her last, to all ap- 
pearance painlessly, in the arms of her husband, with 
dear friends around her, on the night of the 31st 
August, just three months from the date of her first 
seizure. Some of us can remember her saying dur- 
ing the first days of her illness, when some allusion 
was made as to her being soon better : " You will 
see," she said, " that this will be a three months* ill- 
ness." Often she spoke of the impossibility of her 
ever really recovering from the shock of such an ill- 
ness, and she said towards the end, to her husband, 
" Dear, it would be so much better, if you could only 
think so, for me to die than to linger on a burden on 
your hands, a poor nervous invalid perhaps for years 
to come." Who can doubt that knew them, what 
was his loving reply to such words as these ? 

That true friend and work-fellow, the Rev. Somer- 
set Burtchaell, hastened to Perugia from Spoleto, when 
he heard that the death of his friend was impending, and 
arrived in time to minister in the funeral services that 
were held in the room in which she died. Some twenty 
friends and fellow-countrymen of the departed Christian 
were in Perugia, all of whom were present, "and few could 
keep back their tears in looking for the last time on that 


240 She Rests from Her Labors, 

slight form and on that dear face with its sad, sweet smile 
in the awful composure of eternal rest." 

When the letter arrived at the Home which told that all 
hope of Mrs. Gould's recovery must be given up, and 
asking the prayers of all connected with the Home in be- 
half of the dear sufferer, the children melted into tears, 
and with a spontaneous impulse knelt down to offer up 
their prayers. The lady in charge of the children de- 
scribes the scene : 

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, and 
the children of the day-schools were present, and 
knelt with the others. Professor Rebecchini, who 
was about to give his daily lesson to the upper 
classes, knelt also, and the new teacher of the day- 
schools, Signora Angelini, prayed aloud that God 
might yet in his great mercy spare their benefactress. 
The young Scotch printer made an earnest prayer 
aloud in English, beseeching that the Lord would re- 
lieve her great suffering in the way he thought fit. 
The children then made each one his own mental 

Shortly after this, on the same afternoon, a young 
teacher heard the sad news of her death. Coming 
back to the Home, she was met on the staircase by 
the two eldest girls, Lucia and Clelia, and over- 
whelmed them with the tidings of their great loss. 
The news spread at once through the Home. The 
two girls went each into her own room, and wept in- 
consolably through the evening. The two youngest 
children, Mariangiola and the little Venetian, Bep- 
pino, were told by the teacher, who, putting her arms 

She Rests from Her Labors. 241 

around them, said : " Do you know, my poor little 
ones, that you have lost the Signora, your dear moth- 
er?** and the little Beppino said, "Yes, but then she 
has gone to heaven," and clung sobbing to the 
teacher. Poor little fellow, after apparently entirely 
recovering the previous effects of misery and starva- 
tion, his present state of health is such as to render 
it more than probable that he will soon follow his 
dear benefactress to heaven. 

For three or four days her name was constantly 
on the lips of all. The girls were, on the whole, the 
most affected by their loss. They could not eat at 
meals, especially the elder ones. One of the boys 
had a dream, which he related with great fervor to. 
the teacher, of how he saw the dear Signora all in 
white, lying upon what seemed like a long white 
chair, in a white coffin filled with flowers of the sweet- 
est perfume, and "looking so beautiful, so beautiful." 
The eldest and best among the boys, when he was 
told that the " Signora " was no more, could only re- 
peat with a sob : " E mortal " and burst into uncon- 
trollable tears. The mention of her name to any of 
them brings instant tears to their eyes ; they are all 
more generally subdued, and with rare exceptions, 
are at all times better behaved than before. 

Poor little Beppino ! He had not the heart to stay, 

when the cara Signora who had rescued him from misery 

and starvation had gone. A spinal tumor, necessitating a 

formidable surgical operation, had declared itself, and 

through the kind offices of a friend, a bed was secured for 

him in the children's hospital of Rome. The fruit of the 

242 She Rests from Her Labors. 

tender care that had been bestowed on him was thankfully 
recognized in the patience and childlike trust with which 
he lay month after month on his hospital bed, waiting to 
die. All to himself, in his feeble voice, he would lie croon- 
ing the hymns he had been taught by the cara Signora, 
Sometimes he would utter happy words about the Home 
— " our own house, the home of those who have been so 
kind to me always." Then he would speak reverently of 
the Saviour who loves little children and died for sinners, 
generally winding up with — *' When I die, Jesus will take 
me to live with him in heaven, and then I shall see our 
dear Signora again." As he lay a-dying, he was urged 
with kindly-intended importunity, to say a strange prayer, 
of form and import unlike any he had heard. He an- 
swered : " I pray to Jesus. He loves me and I love him. 
I will go to Jesus and to my dear mother, Mrs. Gould." 
So they kindly left him saying to himself, " I love him, I 
love him ! " And when they came back they found a look 
of deep repose on his worn little face. He had died in 
his sleep. 



^^ By Strangers Honored** — Expressions of the 
Italian Press — "yl Wreath of Stray Leaves*^-- 
Words of Mr, Adolpkus Trolhpe and of Mrs. 
Mary Howitt — Honor to her Memory frotn 
those of her Own Country — Memorial Service 
in New York — Address of Dr. William 
Adams — The Grave at Woodlawn, 

THE death, " in the midst of life," of one so en- 
dowed with gifts of nature and of Divine grace, 
so loving and so beloved, drew forth expressions 
of respect, admiration, and grief from far beyond the circle 
of her personal friends and beneficiaries. 

The Roman newspapers, including those that had rarely 
any word to say in behalf of anything Christian, and ex- 
cepting only the organs of the hierarchy, spoke of the de- 
parted friend of little children in such terms of love and 
giatitude as it is a pleasure to transcribe. The following 
example is from an editorial in the Gazzetia d^ Italia : 

We think it no exaggeration to say that the death 
of Mrs. Gould, the founder and directress of the 


244 ^^^^ Memo7'y is Blessed, 

I talo- American schools, was felt with pain by all 
that knev/ her. Having no children of her own, she 
occupied herself the more earnestly, in Rome, with 
her schools. In a short time she established two — 
one in the Via dei Marroniti, the other in the Via del 
Governo Vecchio. There were frequently in attend- 
ance on them from 120 to 150 day-scholars of both 
sexes, besides forty others who lived in an asylum 
which she had established. Withal she had provided 
a kindergarten for the training of very little children, 

according to the system of Froebel Latterly 

she had brought to Rome a printer, with all the ma- 
terials of his business, and the older scholars were in- 
structed in this trade. All this, be it understood, 
including the asylum, was gratuitous. The cost of 
it has been great. In 1873 it amounted to 5i,cxdo 
lire. This sum came from Mrs. Gould's private 
means, supplemented by contributions which hp 
American coming to Rome refused, and by various 
expedients suggested by her own mind, which was 
ever active to promote the success of the schools. ^ 

The Catholic journals accused Mrs. Gould of mak- 
ing her schools a Protestant Propaganda. But the 
charge was groundless. At her school examinations 
and at her evening receptions, which were frequented 
by the best society, we have seen Catholic ladies of 
the highest orthodoxy. .... 

During the last winter Mrs. Gould was accustomed 
to receive at her elegant apartments on the Piazza di 
Spagna a numerous company; but there were no 
idlers among them. Both ladies and gentlemen 
were expected to do some little work, the pro^ 

Her Memory is Blessed. 245 

ceeds of which should go to the support of the 

Mrs. Gould, whose physical strength was not pro- 
portionate to an energy and force of will character- 
istically American, has died a martyr to her zeal. 

" Fanfulla " spoke of her departure in terms the tone 
of which may be judged from these few sentences : 

Our readers will remember that more than once 
we have had occasion to speak of Mrs. Gould, di- 
rectress of the Italo-American schools, that have 
been so much frequented and have accomplished so 
much for the education of our people. We have now 
the sorrow of announcing the death of this distin- 
guished lady, which took place in Perugia yesterday 
morning. She has fallen a victim to her own zeal. 
Of delicate constitution, but gifted with amazing en- 
ergy, she had attempted more than her strength 
would consent to 

We seem to see her still, full of grace and of care 
for others, in the midst of her children at the exami- 
nation and giving of rewards, coming forward with a 
courteous word of thanks to us for our constant en- 
couragement of her work. Poor, dear woman ! by 
what a multitude will her death be mourned ! 

A briefer notice in // Diritto evinced a feeling no less 
tender and sincere : 

The name of this American lady has for years been 
dear and blessed at Rome. She was the founder of 
the Italo-American schools, a good angel who gave 

246 Her Memory is Blessed, 

bread and instruction to thousands of the children 
of the poor — an astonishing example of generosity, 
constancy, love, and self-denial. What courage in 
that modest heart ! What greatness of soul in that 
v/oman v/ho consecrated her fortune and sacrificed 
her health to become the mother, the teacher, the 
protector of a whole phalanx of little children. We 
seem still to see her in the humble dress of a maid- 
servant seated in the midst of her little ones, covering 
them with kisses and delighting herself in the smile 
of g^teful recognition on those innocent lips. We 
know not whether any noble heart will be found to 
take up the work which Mrs. Gould bequeaths, and 
continue these schools of hers which have been an 
apostolate of civilization and hufnanity. Assuredly 
her name will not be forgotten ; and in proportion to 
the blessing which flowed from her life to others, will 
be the bitterness of the lasting grief felt for her de- 
parture in all gentle hearts. 

The Roman newspaper in the French language, VltaliCy 
spoke in a like strain ; and the Italian journal in far-away 
San Francisco. La Voce del Popolo^ received the news from 
its Roman correspondent in this form : 

Rome has lost one of her noblest benefactors. Mrs. 
Gould, founder and directress of the Italo-American 
schools, is no more. Her death is a heavy misfortune 
to the poor children of Rome 

Good and generous Mrs. Gould ! Having no chil- 
dren of her own, she became a loving mother to the 
children of others. She was the goddess of charity 

Her Memory is Blessed. 247 

personated. Her heart was an inexhaustible fountain 
of affection. She left not behind her one, two, or 
three orphans, but over two hundred. If these poor 
little ones could understand their loss they would 
water with tears the grave of their benefactress. 
How much better humanity would advance in the 
paths of virtue, honesty, knowledge, if women who 
now spend their time in the vain luxury of courts 
would imitate Mrs. Gould. 

O generous daughter of a free land, thou wert an 
angel of consolation to the poor, living far above the 
vanities of this world! Well hast thou understood 
and fulfilled the holy mission of woman ! Thy 
name shall be cherished by Romans with deepest 

These utterances of the Italian press were no exag- 
gerated expression of the feeling of all humane and patri- 
otic Italians that knew her good deeds, so far as this feel- 
ing was not restrained or perverted by religious bigotry. 
Her eminent friend, Signora Fua Fusinato, Inspector of 
the Roman Schools, had purposed that the bust of Emily 
Gould should be placed among those of public benefactors 
in one of the buildings devoted to national education; 
and was already seeking materials for a eulogy to be utter- 
ed at the imveiling of it, when her own lamented death 
defeated or at least postponed the plan. The beautiful 
and beloved Princess Margaret, now Queen of Italy, had 
showed a marked interest in her and in her work. Suc- 
cessive Ministers of Public Instruction had repeatedly ex- 
pressed their approval of her labors, and taken counsel of 

248 Her Memory is Blessed, 

her regarding the management of the common schools — 
had aided her, withal, by substantial personal gifts to the 
treasury; and they testified how much they had learned 
from Mrs. Gould and her American methods of organiza- 
tion and teaching. It would not even be difficult to give 
the names of Roman ecclesiastics who had taken an ear- 
nest and intelligent interest in her work, and on whose 
minds the sight of her example of unselfish, loving be- 
neficence, too strong for the fierce narrowness of their 
system, had wrought a conviction, like that of the cen- 
turion at the cross, that "surely this was a righteous 


Among the various expedients devised in aid of the 
schools had been a volume of miscellaneous pieces, the 
free contribution of distinguished authors, to be issued 
from the school press. It is interesting, as an illustration 
of what sort of minds the genial ardor of Mrs. Gould's 
beneficence drew into the current of its purposes, to note 
some of the names of her helpers in this volume. The 
list includes the names of George P. Marsh, William W. 
Story, Matthew Arnold, Lord Houghton, T. A. Trollope, 
William and Mary Howitt, Mr. and Mrs. Cowden Clarke, 
and others of like reputation. This ** Wreath of Stray 
Leaves " (as they entitled it) was laid as a chaplet on her 
grave. Mr. Trollope thus dedicated the volume to her 
memory : 

This is not the place for any attempt to give an 
account of the good work undertaken and done by 

Her Memoiy is Blessed. 249 

Mrs. Gould, or of the truly rare spirit of entire self^ 
devotion with which it was carried out. All those 
(and they were many) who witnessed her life in 
Rome, can testify that the above expression is as 
simply unexaggerated a statement as if it were the 
enunciation of a mathematical fact. She gave her 
life to the work! So little did she ever look back 
from the plow to which she had set her hand, that 
even amid the paroxysms of pain which it was her 
lot to suffer during many long w^eeks, her mind was 
.constantly reverting to the arrangements to be made 
for the bringing out of this volume. 

And now it is brought out — posthumously ! And 
we, all of us, the contributors to its pages, though we 
may still hope that the publication may, by the help 
of the public, be of some avail toward giving the 
aid so urgently needed to the funds for the support 
of the school, shall never have the pleasure we had 
promised ourselves in seeing her pleasure for whose 
sake each did his best. 

Our plans were laid, our suggestions were made so 
merrily, so laughingly ! All sorts of jesting titles for 
our projected volume were proposed ; and one, con- 
ceived in merry mood, by her who will never jest 
more, was by acclamation voted the best. We have 
none of us the heart to put any such words on our 
title-page now. We did each his part as a testimonial 
of affection and admiration for one who lived only for 
others. Let it stand now as a memorial and tribute 
to her memory. 

In writing a Preface to the volume, her unfailing friend 

250 Her Memory is Blessed. 

and the friend of all good works, Mary Howitt, added 
these affectionate words : 

She is gone, like the true and noble of all times, 
from works to rewards. But is the work which she 
began, to perish ? Surely not Let the mother- 
less and homeless children whom she gathered into a 
home of labor and loVe, become your children now 
that she is gone ; so that they, if not others also, may 
become a living, noble, lasting monument, enduring 
through them to countless generations, to the mem- 
ory of her who did all that she could, and perished 
in the doing of it. 

In letters to the New York Observer and Evening Posty 
Mrs. Howitt spoke again of her American friend : 

She, alas ! who gladdened and enlightened so many 
minds in America, and who devoted herself to the 
instruction and enlightenment of the Roman child, is 

no more But she had accomplished much. She 

had proved how receptive of a pure and Christian 
teaching was the youthful mind of old Papal Rome, 
and had laid the foundations of an industrial school 
and home for orphan or friendless children. She, an 
American, with the large, free views and warm phi- 
lanthropy of her country, made America from the first 
a participator in all her work. Italy — long-fettered, 
down-trodden Italy — found, as she lifted herself from 
the dust, young free America by her side, to support 
her and lead her onward into life and liberty — that 
glorious liberty which comes from the pure teaching 

Her Memory is Blessed. 251 

of the Gospel of Christ. Mrs. Gould did not arrogate 
to herself the honor of this good work, though she 
was one of the very first who entered the field. She 
regarded herself but as the handmaid of America, 
and whatever she undertook and accomplished be- 
longed to her country. Her schools and her In- 
dustrial Home were Italo-American, and her country 
gratefully and graciously ackhowledged the offering 
of her philanthropy and patriotism. Her best 
and most efficient friends were Americans. With a 
liberal hand they supplied the necessary funds, and 

cheered her onward by their cordial approval 

Wonderful was the sweet, tender influence which 
she had over children. Love was innate to her, and 
also that wisdom, so sublime in its simplicity, which 
is the special gift of God to the true mother, and 
which, to my mind, must have been so pre-eminent 
in the mind of the Holy Mary, the mother of our 
Lord — that of leading the child, by the uprightness 
of a pure, loving spirit, to the very being of the 
Divine Father. Often have I sat in her schools and 
found myself looking on with admiring delight to see 
revealed in her the true power of the divinely-taught 
mother — the loveliest of teachers — to hear her telling 
of the Saviour, of his love to the little children, of 
the Good Shepherd and his lambs — her face beaming 
with an ineffable tenderness and devotion which is 

beyond all beauty except that of the angels 

The Home of orphan industry, the institution to 
which her womanly heart gave its tenderest and most 
untiring energies, is now motherless. Is there no 
warm-hearted, child-loving, childless woman in Amer- 

252 Her Memory is Blessed, 

ica ready and willing to step into her place? Is 
there no woman there filled with the wisdom and 
energy of a strong Christian love, who has not yet 
found her true place in life, yet prays God daily to 
open it before her? How beautiful, how self-forget- 
ting, how full of the heroism of the purest love is 
the character of many a woman drawn to the life by 
Mrs. Whitney and many another female American 
writer. My heart has burned within me, as did the 
hearts of the disciples in company with the risen 
Lord on the way to Emmaus, as I have read of these 
loving, devoted women — women who have been 
wounded in the battle of life, or whose large capacity 
for active service in goodness and love has found 
ordinary life too narrow, and who, living out of them- 
selves, have lived in others. I am persuaded that in 
America there are many such. It is not all fiction 
which is written in books. There are, I believe, 
hundreds of women in free, unconventional America, 
who are capable of doing what our dear dead friend 
has done. Here, then, is scope enough for the ex- 
ercise of the noblest gifts of their womanhood. Here 
are children to be loved and trained ; here is an open- 
ing for the expenditure of wealth which will cause no 
regret, no deathbed pang, but which will yield an un- 
told interest in that great day when the Master 
Householder reckons with his stewards. 

Mary Howitt. 

In like terms others of her English friends and helpers 
uttered the common feeling of love, admiration, and be- 
reavement. But for the danger of extending this chapter 

Her Memory is Blessed. 253 

too far, we should love to quote the words of the Rev. Mr. 
Burtchaell, of Madame Jessie White Mario, and of that 
dear Catholic friend and fellow-laborer, Mrs. Geraldine 
Macpherson, who followed her so soon to her heavenly 
reward and rest. 

Mrs. Gould's own countrymen, who had expressed their 
confidence and love in their constant support of her work, 
were no, less ready with their words of eulogy when the 
time had come that they might be uttered without offense 
to herself. A published letter from Mr. Pierce, the biog- 
rapher of Sumner, declares : " Her place is among the 
noble women of our time. Amid scenes of refined enjoy- 
ment she consecrated herself to the service of mankind." 
And then, having recounted the exquisite delight of visit- 
ing the Alban Hills in company with Mrs. Gould and 
some of the choicest of her friends, he adds : ** Scenery 
and historic associations like these are indeed attractive 
to the imagination, but better far is communion with one 
who toiled for a people rising into freedom, and who by 
her unselfish devotion has lifted higher the ideals of her 
sex." One of the most full, clear, and just appreciations 
of her character and work was from the pen of one who 
had peculiar opportunities for knowing them both, and 
who wrote as follows to an American journal : 

She was never a strong woman, although her tenac- 
ity of purpose and her nervous energy accomplished 
what many a more robust person would have shrunk 
from. But she expended her very self in her chosen 
work. When a teacher failed, she went to teach ; 

254 -^^^ Memory is Blessed, 

when a child was ill, she nursed it, and, if need were, 
shared her own chamber with it ; she braved all 
weathers ; fought against her own weakness and ail- 
ments, and infused a vitality into all parts of an enter- 
prise which often seemed too great and too diversified 
for a single person to direct and urge on. And all 
this time she had not neglected her social and private 
duties. Every Sunday evening there was the same 
assembly of strangers and residents in her room. One 
needed no formal introduction ; it was enough to 
say: "I am an American; I have heard of you, and 
I want you to let me share your Sunday evening 
sing," and her welcome was as warm and her smile 
as sunny as one could wish. And many a time as I 
have sat behind the piano-forte I have seen eighty 
or a hundred Americans singing the tunes and hymns 
which they had learned at school, or had been wont 
to sing in their own family circles in their distant 

homes Those who knew her thoroughly, who 

had tested her friendship, and found how true she 
was to her principles and her affections, will recognize 
more and more that, exceptional as were the vivacity 
and brilliancy of her lighter moments ; no less rare 
were her graver qualities and her determination never 
to relax in her work while strength and life were left 

In a long review of Mrs. Gould's career, Miss Elizabeth 
H. Denio, an active helper in the last months of her work, 
speaks of one incident of it to which neither Mrs. Gould 
nor her husband makes any allusion, but which more than 
one of their intimate friends record after her death. 

Her Memory is Blessed. 255 

When the " Home " was opened there was a large 
sum of money in the treasury, and Mrs. Gould felt 
authorized to enlarge the work. Later came the 
panic in America and hard times ; contributions fell 
off, while expenses increased. Both Dr. and Mrs. 
Gould began to retrench at home, and to draw from 
their own income to keep up the work. One servant 
was dismissed, the carriage was given up, and Mrs. 
Gould, accustomed from childhood to have every 
wish gratified, began to deny herself luxuries, and 
even necessary comforts. 

Under the title, "A Brave Woman's Memorial," Dr. Theo- 
dore Cuyler has given some reminiscences of his own in 
an article in the New York Evangelist, 

One morning, after a pleasant hour on the Pincian, 
I went with my traveling companion, the Rev. New- 
man Hall, to call upon the late Mrs. Emily Gould. 
Her husband. Dr. Gould, was then residing in the 
heart of that portion of Rome most occupied by 
Americans. We climbed the stairway of a house 
which had more of the modern air than can often 
be found in the city of the Caesars, and were shown 
to Mrs. Gould's apiartment. She was too feeble to 
sit up that day; but the thin pale countenance was 
all aglow with intellect and enthusiasm. She received 
us with great cordiality, and began to talk at once 
about that love-labor for poor Italian children, which 
was burning in her brain, and consuming her very 

Mrs. Gould told us the story of her brave struggles 

256 Her Memory is Blessed, 

to educate the bright-eyed children of Rome. With 
that romantic story — and how she had established 
her day-school, and handed it over to the Walden- 
sian pastors, and how she was then starting an " In- 
dustrial Home" for the Christian training of orphans 
and other destitute children — with all this beautiful 
story the Christian people of America are somewhat 
familiar. My friend, Newman Hall, was intensely in- 
terested in her narrative of the work. ** This is one 
of the most remarkable women I have ever met/' he 
said to me as we left the door-way. " You Americans 
may be proud of such a representative here in Papal 

Two years more of untiring toil wore out that frail 
and delicate frame, which we saw that morning prop- 
ped up by the pillows. During the midsummer of 
1875, Mrs. Gould fell asleep in Jesus: and great 
lamentation was made for her among the little brown- 
faced Italians of the " Home," and the Waldensian 
day-schools. She had been so long the moving spirit 
of this Italo-American effort to bring new ideas into 
old Rome, that it was feared lest the movement might 
be buried in her tomb. But God is the most faith- 
ful of trustees, and he never forsakes the enterprises 
of love which are committed to his care. 

Our American Christians, amid their thousand calls 
at home, are not willing to have that promising plant 
die out under the very eaves of the Vatican. We 
have not many distinctively American enterprises in 
ancient Europe ; this one in the most venerable of 
European capitals stands by itself. Its failure now 
would be a national reproach, as well as an extin- 

Her Memory is Blessed, 257 

guishment of one of the lamps of Evangelical influence 
lately lighted in the city where Paul once taught 
Jesus to Caesar's household. 

We have been set upon this train of reminiscence 
to-day by reading the last statement made in behalf 
of this "Gould Memorial.'* 

American womanhood sometimes wins admiration 
abroad by physical charms, often by elegance of cos- 
tume and adornments. But plain Harriet Newell, 
teaching Christ to the Hindoos, and frail, refined 
Emily Gould, gathering in poor orphans from the 
streets of Papal Rome, and the band of female mis- 
sionaries who have gone out from " Mount Holyoke," 
are the best representatives of womanly beauty. No 
diamond necklace exhibited at the Centennial flashes 
with such lustre as this one which the Master wove 
for his faithful handmaids out of these words : " She 
hath done what she could." 

More than a year after the death of Mrs. Gould at 
Perugia, there was gathered a great assembly of her friends 
and of the friends of her father and mother, for a Me-, 
m'orial Service, in the Fourth Avenue Presbyterian Church, 
in New York, of which Chancellor Howard Crosby is 
pastor. The church was without decoration except that a 
wreath of white flowers lay on the communion-stable. 

Besides such services of prayer and thanksgiving as are 
becoming at the commemoration of a saint sleeping in the 
Lord, there were addresses by Dr. Crosby, by Dr. Hutton, 
by Dr. Charles S- Robinson, and by Dr. William Adams. 
It is natural that many words should have been uttered 

258 Her Memory is Blessed. 

of the father and mother of the deceased — the '* beloved 
physician," and the ** honorable woman,'* whose " toils and 
cares were given " to hoFy works in the earlier days of 
New York — by the venerable pastdrs who remembered 
them as work-fellows. But their thoughts reached rather 
toward the future than toward the past. The tone of 
thankfulness and hope was well expressed in these sen- 
tences from the address of Dr. Adams : 

We have here a new lesson concerning true great- 
ness. What the common notion of greatness is has 
been expressed in the words of our Lord, and this in 
contrast with that greatness which is to be attained 
by His disciples : "The princes of the Gentiles exer- 
cise dominion over them, and they that are great 
exercise authority upon them. But it shall not be so 
among you ; but whosoever will be great among you, 
let him be your minister; and whosoever will be 
chief among you, let him be your servant." 

There is no place on earth that is distinguished by 
so many monuments and memorials of what the world 
has called great, as the city of Rome. Arches, col- 
umns, statues, obelisks, pillars, mausoleums, surviving 
the ravages of time, perpetuate, on every hand, the 
names of the mighty dead. We commemorate this 
day another kind of greatness, which will live here 
on earth when bronze and marble shall have crumbled 
to dust, and shine afterward " above the brightness of 
thfe firmament, and as the stars forever and ever." 

When the Italian army under Victor Emmanuel — 
how many associations do such names suggest ? — en- 
tered through the Porta Pia, that " Eternal City " so 

Her Memory is Blessed. 259 

identified with art and history, there went in also the 
gentle and modest form of a Christian woman, intent 
on doing good in the name of Jesus Christ. With 
no political ambition, with no thought of self-aggran- 
dizement, her single purpose was, in the spirit of her 
Master, to feed his lambs. The work which she had 
begun so prosperously on the Arno, she now begins 
on the Tiber. When freedom was given, and " a great 
door and an effectual was opened," many hearts, on 
both sides of the sea, rejoiced because of the good 
things that were done ** in Rome also." The work 
which she projected was fundamental. She gathered 
about her little children and instructed them in the 
name of Jesus of Nazareth. Others in due time 
might heave the arches and carve the friezes and dec- 
orate the capitals. Hers was it, with unapplauded 
toil, to lay the foundations of a great improvement. 
It was an undertaking which called for self-sacrifice 
and toil, and patient endurance. These were not with- 
held. Herein did she exhibit that form of greatness 
extolled by our divine Lord — ministering to others 
at an expense to ourselves. Better and greater is 
it that Christ should say of one such disciple, " She 
hath done what she could ; wheresoever the Gospel preached in the whole world, there shall also 
this that this woman hath done be told for a me- 
morial of her" — than any inscription ever engraved 
on imperial pillar or tablet. When the tombs of 
Hadrian and Cecilia Metella, the Column of Trajan 
and the Arch of Titus, and all other monuments of 
worldly greatness at Rome, shall have perished from 
the sight of men, the good that was done to the 

26o Her Memory is Blessed. 

minds of groups of children, molding their character 
and shaping their destiny, will brighten more and 
more, for it concerns souls for which Christ died and 
which are in their nature immortal. We wonder not 
that sobs were heard in the schools and orphanages 
at Florence and Rome, that day when it was an- 
nounced that their Founder and Benefactress was 
dead. But the greatness of her work will be revealed 
hereafter, when glorified spirits shall recognize her 
earthly labors as the chosen means of mercy to them- 
selves, and are permitted, in the presence of their 
divine Redeemer, to hail her with secondary grati- 
tude and the mention of a human love. 


They mourn the dead who live as they require." 

Thus happily has a poet expressed the sentiment 
that the best token and proof of our regard for the 
dead is a disposition to meet their wishes, to take the 
work from their hands and carry it on to completion. 
From the success of what has been done already, we 
borrow motives which incite to greater endeavors for 
time to come. Why may not that which was begun 
in feebleness be continued and extended in strength ? 
We long for the time to come when ths whole of 
Italy, from Sicily to the Alps — that beautiful land of 
the vine and the olive ; that land of history and of 
the arts — shall see all her children, so bright and ex- 
pert in native qualities, gathered about the living 
Christ, to be taught and blessed by him in whose days 
the righteous shall flourish, and abundance of peace 
so long as the moon endureth. The kings of the 
earth will die, but Immanuel, our incarnate Re- 

Her Memory is Blessed. 261 

dcemer, shall reign throughout all generations. Con- 
cerning incipient measures, looking to the extension 
of this kingdom, we may say both of their beginning 
and their result, in the language of the Psalm : 
" There shall be a handful of corn in the earth upon 
the top of the mountains : the fruit thereof shall 
shake like Lebanon, and they of the city shall flourish 
like grass of the earth. His name shall endure for- 
ever : -His name shall be continued as long as the sun, 
and all nations shall call Him blessed." 

Thus, with good men making lamentation for her de- 
parture, and thanking God at every remembrance of her, 
the body of Emily Bliss Gould was laid to rest in Wood- 
lawn Cemetery. 

During the last visit of Doctor Gould to America, be- 
fore her death, Mrs. Gould, already pressed by many pre- 
monitions of her approaching departure, had sent to him 
a commission, surrounded with many words of affection 
too sacred to be transcribed, in which she " gave com- 
mandment concerning her bones." 

I do not feel about it as I once did, when I clung 
almost with agony to the thought of bringing our 
father to rest where I should be. As I go on in life, 
I feel as if the body, precious as it is, were "only the 
garment which we love because they wore it once, 
while they in richer array have forgotten it, and are 
often much nearer to us than their graves are, even 

262 Her Memory is Blessed. 

when these are but little removed from our roof-tree. 
But you could give me nothing I should prize so 
greatly as a plot in which to lay the bodies of my 
parents, and a simple stone to bear their names and 
a few words of the promises they so loved. If I 
were to choose, I would have a plain shaft of the form 
least likely to be affected by the weather. On the 
one side I would put : 

Sacred to the Memory of 

James C. Bliss, 
"the beloved physician," 

WHO DIED JULY 31st, 1 85 5. 

** Strong in faith, giving glory to God." 
"And the end, everlasting life." 

You know he would not have liked us to put such 
words of praise as he deserved. 
On the opposite side I would put : 

Sacred to the Memory of 

Maria A. Mumford, 

wife of James C. Bliss, 

WHO died march 1st, 1831. 

"O woman, great is thy faith." 

On one of the remaining sides : 

Emily, James, Augustus, Mary, 

infant children of 

James C. and Maria A. Bliss. 

" He shall gather the lambs with his arm and carry them in 

his bosom." 

Her Memory is Blessed. 263 

Opposite this: 

"Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither havt entered into 
the heart of man, the thin^ which God hath prepared for them 
that love Him." 

" Their works do follow them." 

In the spot thus consecrated by her filial piety, she lies 
at rest, and with the names that were so dear to her is in- 
scribed her own name, with the words : 



1876 — 1879. 

Mmbarrassmenis and Vicissitudes of Mrs. Gould's 
Institutions — A Peril A verted— Letters frotn tke 
Children — A Letter front Mrs, Edwardes — Rush 
0/ Applicants for Admission — Grief of tke Cki/^ 
dren at the Kin§^s Death — Excommunication 
and A nathema — Growing Needs of the Home—' 
Infant Candidates—"^ Junior Home** at Fras~ 
cati—A TuKulan Picnic— Recollections of Mrs. 
Could— The Lesson of her Life. 

THE death of Mrs. Gould, occurring in the midst of 
the season when all the customary supporters of 
her schools were scattered from Rome, left her 
enterprise almost helpless. After many months' delay, and 
not a little hesitation and anxiety, a Committee was organ- 
ized which took the bereaved and orphaned institu- 
tions under its charge. In this long interval, the efficiency 
of the institutions had become impaired, the funds were 
exhausted, and a debt of nearly 4,000 francs had accumu- 
lated. The Committee took the difficult task in hand 

with energy and tact worthy of their predecessor, and at 


Her Work Goes O^i, 265 

the end of twelve months had paid the debt, increased 
the number of children in the Home from fourteen to 
twenty-two, and had a balance in the bank to their 
credit, nearly as large as the debt with which they began. 
The receipts that made all this possible, came from 
various, sometimes unexpected sources. But, " the chief 
support was due to the untiring exertions of Dr. Gould." 
Speaking of him, the Committee say : 

But for his efforts it would have been necessary to close the 
Home last summer. In the month of July, when Rome was al- 
most deserted by foreigners, the few members of the Committee 
remaining in the city, felt it was a grave responsibility to retain 
the charge of sixteen children, when but five francs remained in 
the treasury ; and they had a meeting called to consider seriously 
the duty of breaking up the Institution rather than incur the risk 
of getting into debt. Signor Prochet, the President of the Wal- 
densian Mission Board, who was present at that meeting, urged 
the exercise of the patience of faith so long as there was prop- 
erty to represent the liabilities ; he felt assured that God would 
provide for these children, some of whom, but for the Home 
I would be utterly destitute. In a few days a considerable sum 

arrived from Dr. Gould, and after this experience the Committee 
in all subsequent difficulties have been sustained by trust in the 
goodness and faithfulness of our Heavenly Father to overcome 
all difficulties in the way of this work of charity. 

A temporary arrangement was made, very advantageous, 
for the time, to all parties, by which the Waldensian day- 
schools occupied the school-rooms of the Home; and 
ultimately the ** Italo-American Schools " were amalga- 
mated with those of the Waldensian Board, the Home and 
Schools being carried on in the house Mrs. Gould held on 

lease. But it was fcund difficult to observe the proper 

266 Her Work Goes On. 

discipline of the Home and day-schools together, whilst 
it was equally impossible to extend the industries beyond 
that of the printing-press, for want of room ; so that, when 
the lease of the house expired, it was thought a fitting op- 
portunity to separate the Home from the day-schools, and 
thus carry out more efficiently the work as an Industrial 
Institution, apart from any particular branch of the Chris- 
tian Church. 

Now that the institution had begun to depend, not on a 
single mind and voice and pen, but on the cooperation 
of an organized Board, a new difficulty appeared, the 
seriousness of which will not be fully appreciated except 
by those who have known the fluctuations of the colonies 
of English-speaking sojourners in European continental 
towns. Again and again, within the course of a few 
months, this cherished work, the fruit of such heroic sac- 
rifice and such trustful prayer, seemed to be at the point 
of extinction. Before the perils of a Roman summer, its 
friends were driven in various directions, and grave emer- 
gencies would arise, demanding wisdom, courage, and 
pecuniary resources, when there were few or none to 
counsel or help, and when these few would be doubtful 
of the return of those on whom they had been wont to 
rely. Rarely has any *' labor of love " been more em- 
phatically a "work of faith." 

Such an extreme emergency occurred during the sum- ^ 
mer of 1877. The President of the Committee, who had 
gone to the Tyrol for the hot season, was startled by a 
letter ffom Rome to the effect that the affairs of the In- 

Her Work Goes On. 267 


stitution were such that it seemed necessary to break it 
up altogether. She wrote back entreating that the work 
might be continued until the Committee could be gathered 
again at Rome ; and then, following her letter as far as 
Florence, she met the report that the Home was already 
broken up, and that steps were in progress to disperse the 
children. Consulting with such of her colleagues as she 
could find, she took measures to " redeem the time," with 
a deep feeling of responsibility in the position which she 
had reluctantly accepted. " I reflected," she says, " on 
the aspects of the work toward Italy, toward so many 
poor children in Rome — that it was a woman's work, so 
nobly begun, so energetically carried on, even to the sac- 
rifice of its founder's life. I dared not assume the respon- 
sibility of being one to consent to the ruin of that which 
had cost so much labor, and which might so easily be de- 
stroyed ; but at what cost, at what labor, could it be built 
up again ? " She sketched a plan on which, if the imme- 
diate difficulties could be surmounted, the work could be 
carried on, and wrote to Dr. Gould in New York, submit- 
ting it for his approval and consent. 

In the pending situation, the members of the Commit- 
tee that were present shrank from making themselves sev- 
erally and personally responsible as signers of a lease for 
a house. The lease for the old house had already expired, 
and the Home was remaining there from day to day on 
mere sufferance. It was evident that the Committee as a 
body would not take the grave responsibility required; 
and on motion a formal vote was passed by which the 

268 Her Work Goes On. 

Committee was dissolved. " At that very moment," says 
the President, " a telegram from Dr. Gould was put into 
my hands, approving my plans, promising his support, and 
appointing me his legal representative to secure the int^j 
ests and carry on the work of the Home." Four ladie>, 
two Americans and two English, agreed to stand by ea-l 
other in the responsibility of the work, and the books and 
papers of the Home were transferred to their hands. 

From this point the Gould Memorial Home seems to 
emerge into daylight. But even when these hesitations, 
difficulties and anxieties were perplexing the minds of 
those in charge of its interests, it must not be supposed 
that the useful labors of the institution were interrupted. 
On the contrary, while those responsible for its affairs 
were passing anxious days and nights, the work of the 
school was proceeding with unabated interest and useful- 
ness. A few of the letters from the scholars, quoted liter- 
atim^ will give an exact idea of the progress that was 
making : 

Dear Mrs. Edwardes: 

On beginning this letter I must ask you excuse if I am been so 
long in writing you. We have, had so much to do that some- 
times we had not a moment to play. We have had our general 
examination, and therefore I have not write to you before. We 
had our examination during five days, on the first of which we 
had the examination in written, as composition, problem and 
other things to write. On the second day we had the Old and 
New Testament. On the third we had the French dictation and 
other things to write. On the fourth the national history, that 
is to say, pieces of history of Italy laken here and there, after the 
geography and our English examination. Mr. Burtchaell came 

Her Work Goes On. 269 

to ask us questions upon it ; and we had to read, to translate, to 
answer in English at his Italian questions, and at last he asked 
us about the formation of pKiral in the words, where comes from 
tlu' English language, how many letters are German and of 
strange tongues in loo English words ; and other things. We 
answered as well as we could. On the fifth day we had the 
French grammar and some pieces of poetry to say. Every day 
came some person to hear us, but on Thursday and Friday the 
school was full of English and Italian ladies and gentlemen. 
Mrs. Gajani, Mr. Burtchaell and some others were also in the 
school, and when we had to go in the midst of them to speak, 
you can imagine if we were not afraid. But at last it is all 
passed, now we have two months to get rest. At the end of the 
examination, Mr. Especa arose and said : " 1 have the commis- 
sion to tell you that one day of the next week all the boys and 
girls of the Home will go to Frascati," and he said to them of the 
School : " You can come, but you must have your voyage paid." 
I am not sure if we go on Monday ; but tomorrow we have our 
promotions in the Waldensian Church at 4 o'clock, and Mr. 
Gamieri will tell us the day in which we will go. 

Dear Mrs. Edwardes, we are all afraid to forget what we know 
of English ; but I have the Pilgrim's Progress to translate into 
English from Italian. If it please God, I'll translate it into 

We were very sorry when a person, I do not remind who was, 
came to tell us that you was gone, but we hope that you shall be 
soon among us. 

On the next letter I'll tell you the result of my examination 
and how we have amuse ourselves to Frascati. 

We are all well, as we hope you are ; Mark is better, now he 
can work very well in the Stamperia; Beppino is better too. 
All salute you. 

Your truly 
Rome, \st July, 1876. . 

Dear Dr. Gould : — By Mrs. Gajani's goodness my humble 
letter can rich you till there. All the others are well, as they 

270 Her Work Goes On. 

hope of you. Although we are so far one another, by few words 
we can communicate our thought and our love. Our vacanzes 
are finished, and since the 4th September the school is opened 
again. During the last two months I asked permission to Mr. 
Gamieri to be absent from the Home for five days to go to my 
birth- village, where I have so enjoyed myself that at the time 
when I came home I returned with red chicks and with a coun- 
try-man's color. 

Dear Dr. Gould, what would I like more than Mrs. Gould's 
photograph ? I beg you, if you can to send me a copy of it. We 
are 17 in the Home, presently, and 1 hope that soon the number 
will be augmented by my brother. 

In this month I have gained francs 10.25, ^^ the last 5.61, and 
in July 4.52 — so altogether 1 gained in the Printing-Office 20.38 

in three months 1 hope to see you again before we die, 

and if we can not see, in this world, one another, we will see 
each other in the eternal glory. No more. 1 will never forget 
you, and I hope that you will never forget 

Your humble servant 
Rome, (Uh September, 1876. , 

Rome, May 12M, 1877. 

Dear Doctor Gould :— I am very glad to write you to tell 
you some of our news. 

Now we go to the gymnasium at the Orto Bottanico where 
we are very happy ; we play there, and there is the teacher that 
teaches us, and we go there twice a week. 

Every Sunday we go to the Sunday School and there we are 
attentive to the word of Jesus Christ, and there we learn some 
verses. If we have twenty points at the end of the month we 
receive a small card with a text of Scripture from the New or 
Old Testament surrounded by pretty flowers. Here is one: 
" Jesus saith unto him, I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. 
No man cometh unto the Father but by me." And then the teacher 
tells us some thing about the missionaries, who go to announce 
to the people the Gospel. 


Her Work Goes On. 271 

Now there are in Home eighteen boys and seven girls. There 
are five boys and one girl that have just come. 

The printing-office now goes on well and we all work in the 
printing office. 

All the children of the Home salute you. 

I am 
Your Humble Servant 

:i:'-'' Rome, 3/^^ 12, 1877. 

"-^^ Dear Doctor Gould : — I am glad to be able to give you 

also this time some news about ourselves. 

S^""'" All the boys and girls now are in good health, save our little 

Kc^ companion Beppino Bartoli. of Venice who was ill in the hospital 

J'f-^ of "Bambino Gestj/' but he is come back to the Home, but 

"^ ^' always ill. 

erir Some days ago, we had fourteen boys and seven girls, while 

now the Home is increased by four other boys of Rome, and we 
are now in number of eighteen boys without the girls, who are 
seven. We hope that this number will be soon doubled, because 

^' some persons have told us that the number would be augmented 

to forty boys and girls 

Some days ago there come to visit our Schools the Rev'd Pas- 
tor Leopold Wittc, a member of the Society Gustavo- Adolfo, 
who came to Italy some weeks ago to visit the Evangelical Ital- 
ian churches, to write a book on this, which shall be read in all 

I hope that you will excuse the mistakes, which are many in 
this letter. 
All the children of the Home in Rome salute you 

Rome, 7 AprtV, 1878. 

Dear Lady :* — Miss Edwardes have said to me if I will write 
a letter to you, and I write to you how you see. 

* This letter is addressed to one of the friends of the school by a boy who is sus- 
tained by her bounty. The total cost of supporting a scholar is $80 a year. 

272 Her Work Goes On. 

I am four years and three months that I am in this college. 
I came here that I dont no nothing, no read, no write, not at all 
of English, no France. Now I have learn to read, to write, a 
little of English and a little of France. And I thank very much 
that good person that have take me in this home. 

The onomastic day of our new king Umberto di Savoia there 
was a festival, and the Committee have let us to go and make a 
walk. That day there was very much of soldiers. 

The day of the incoronation of our new king, there was also 
very much of soldiers. 

In this college we have three times a week the English lesson. 

There is also a beautiful garden. I have 14 years and I am 
from Milan. There is also the printing-office and I am one 
of the boys that go there. We are in the printing-office five 
boys. There is also the shous-man [shoemaker] and the boys 
that go there are four. The other boys karn their lesson. And 
the girls work at their work. In the Printing-office we compose 
a news-paper intitolated : L'Educatore Evanj^^elico. 

I salute you. Receive my compliments ; and that God be with 

you all the time of your years, and that God bless you and your 

family. Good-bye. I am your 


The work of the Editor of this book is now finished. 
It has been little more than the work of putting together 
the words of others so as to tell the story of a noble life, 
and the results of it. What remains to be said may best 
be given in a letter of Mrs. Edgecumbe Edwardes, the 
President of the new Committee, that all readers may see 
not only how, in its new growth and expansion, the Home is 
answering to the ideal and hope of its founder, but with 
what love for Mrs. Gould's memory, and with a heart and 
purpose how congenial to her own, the work of her life's toil 
and of her dying prayers has been taken up and carried 


Her Work Goes On, 273 

forward. Those who have followed the story with any 
feeling of patriotic satisfaction, as it has recounted the 
noble deeds of an American woman in the metropolis of the 
ancient world, will feel the pulsation of a wider sympathy 
in seeing the charge of her twice-orphaned children de- 
volved into the hands of an English lady, her kinswoman 
by family, her sister in the fellowship of the Universal 
Church, and her worthy and congenial associate in this 
work of Christian mercy.* 

Pending all our perplexities and discussions, we had not been 
idle in our efforts to secure a house. Many difficulties, which at 
first seemed insurmountable, were thrown in our way, but at 
last, in the new quarter of Rome, on the Esquiline, a suitable 
house was found, as if it had been waiting for us — a villa stand- 
ing in its own garden (making an excellent play-ground) with 
lofty rooms for dormitories and class-rooms, and with plenty of 
space on the ground floor for workshops. 

A busy scene now began in the old Home. The children, who 
had been asking ceaseless questions and making many guesses 
as to what was to become of them, were told that a new home 
had been found for them, and immediately preparations began 
for removal. The active little people, like strings of ants, began 

♦ Mrs. Edwardes is the widow of Major-General Edwardes, Surgeon-General of 
the British forces during the war of the Sepoy Rebellion, in which he was the 
companion-in-arms, and the near friend of General Sir Henry Havelock. With 
cordial and active interest, as a member of the Honorary Committee, Lady Have- 
lock is now a fellow-laborer with Mrs. Edwardes in the Gould memorial work at 

General Edwardes was cousin to Mr. R. M. Blatchford, uncle to Mrs. Gould, and 
Home time American Minister Resident at Rome. A letter of thanks was sent to 
General Edwardes, by the American Board of Foreign Missions, for his services in 
saving the lives of American missionaries during the Sepoy war. 

There can be no need of apology for these brief personal details. 


274 Her Work Goes On. 

colleotinK their possessions, and were to be seen, at almost any 
time during these few days, tying or untying bundles, and con- 
sulting with each other how this or that peculiar treasure was 
to be carried. Many of the little ones were found guarding with 
jealous care some useless rag or broken toy. On the 2d of Jan- 
uary, 1878, the final order was given, and the twenty-three 
children were marched up to take possession of the new Home. 

Great was their delight to find such a magnificent palaxzo, as 
they called it Worn out with excitement, they dropped asleep 
that evening in the eager anticipation of a play in the garden 
the next morning. 
In doing this, we thought we had accomplished a great deal ; 

Her Work Goes On, 275 

but we had only begun our work. Everything had now to be 
arranged. Divisions had to be made for the different work- 
shops ; the printing-press to be set up ; the laundry to be pre- 
pared ; doors to be put up in some places, and taken down in 
others. I need not enter into the many delays through the un- 
punctuality of workmen, the endless disappointments, the con- 
stant changes to be made when first arrangements would not do. 
But even at the end of the first fortnight it was wonderful to see 
what perseverance had gradually done. Every one and every- 
thing seemed to fall into place. 

Our first care was to obtain a good matron for the girls — 
a very difficult thing. Here, again, one was found who seemed 
to have been in training for the situation — an Englishwoman, 
the widow of an Italian, who has thus far proved like a mother 
to the girls. 

It was impossible to hold an inaugural feast for the children in 
the new Home so soon after their arrival in it. I therefore asked 
them all to my house on the 6th of January, not only to give 
them a Christmas treat, but that I might have the opportunity of 
introducing them to many of our English and American friends 
whom I was anxious to interest in the work. Our rooms were 
crowded with guests coming and going, who not only waited on 
the children at their feast, but joined in the merry games that 
followed. It proved a very happy evening. The children's faces 
beamed with delight, and the visitors expressed astonishment 
and pleasure at their appearance and manners. Two English 
ladies who had a protSgi among the children did not at first re- 
cognize, in a frank, open-faced boy, the dull, cowed-looking 
little fellow they had placed in the Home only six months before ; 
and so pleased were they that they asked if, on the payment of a 
certain sum, we would receive his brother into the school. An 
American lady who sat the whole evening watching the children 

276 Her Work Goes On. 

sent the next morning a handsome donation in proof of her in- 
terest in the work. 

Our first meeting in the Committee-Room of the new house 
was held January 9th. The applications for admittance had by 
this time become so numerous that we scarcely knew how to 
choose, each case appearing more urgent than another. After 
strict inquiry, six of the most needy were passed. We were 
g^eved to refuse any, but were compelled to administer the 
funds with the utmost prudence, as the removal had involved 
heavy expenses. 

This 9th of January was a sad day for Rome. Almost the 
first words I heard on returning home were '* tl re k morto T* 
We strangers, English and American, felt the king's death 
almost as deeply as Italy's own children. So much was he loved 
among his subjects, that when it was announced in the school, 
little Mary, only four years old, clasped her tiny hands together 
exclaiming, ''Mama / // re galantuotr.o — morio ! " and burst into 
tears. We wish to encourage a loyal and national spirit among 
our boys, and at the afternoon service held at the Home the fol- 
lowing Sunday, Signor Gamieri gave a little sketch of the late 
king — his bravery, his love of liberty, his great respect for his 
word — confirming each point by anecdotes well known among 
the Italians. The boys were much interested, and we could see 
big tears roll down their cheeks when instances of his heroism 
were narrated. At the public funeral all the children appeared 
in mourning, the girls watching the procession from our own 
"loggia." The national flag, draped in crape, was displayed 
from the terrace of the Villa. I must not omit to mention how 
fervently the young king was prayed for by our boys. 

Strangers now began to find out where the new Home was 
cituated, and visitors to come on the appointed days. A very busy 
scene was presented by the children in their classes or at their 

Her Work Goes On. 277 

different trades. Great was the alacrity with which, at the ring- 
ing of a bell, the boys would drop their arithmetic or geography 
lesson, fall into marching order and proceed down-stairs, some 
to the shoemaking or mending, others to type-setting or the 
printing-press, while the girls would go up- stairs to their sewing 
or house- work. 

Applications for admittance continued to increase. We were 
now obliged to limit the number and define what cases should 
be considered eligible. The applications did not always come 
from the very poor, but from all classes — from pastors of differ- 
ent denominations seeking a shelter and Christian education for 
some poor orphan of their flock ; from ladies high in rank ; and 
from professors in the Italian Government colleges. Many a sad 
tale of struggling poverty and sorrow has come to my knowledge 
through these petitions. 

Our institution was rapidly filling up, so that contrivance was 
necessary to make room. The dining-tables were too crowded, 
and before long the little ones overflowed into another room, 
where additional tables had to be supplied. 

The time when most of the visitors to Rome leave for the 
summer, and donations cease, was approaching. We dreaded 
crowding our dormitories in the hot months, or encountering 
anxieties in respect to funds. The Committee accordingly issued 
a notice that admissions to the Home would be discontinued until 
their return in the autumn. This brought a veritable avalanche 
of petitions upon us, as if no one had ever thought of it before, 
or had only realized the benefit of the Home for the first time. 

During these few months I Jiave noticed an increased willing- 
ness on the part of parents to send their girls to us. Willingness 
is scarcely the word — a manifest anxiety would best express the 
change of feeling. Formerly when a vacancy occurred in the 
girls' part of the house, and the applications were for boys, if we 

278 Her Work Goes On. 

offered to take a gprl instead, the answer generally was : " No, 
the boys are bread-winners ; the better they learn the more they 
earn ; we are too poor to let our girls go ; there is the baby to 
mind and the washing to do ; what good is learning to a girl ? " 
Sometimes it was : " She is too useful to me at home. Take the 
, boy ; I can't manage him, but he's a bright fellow, and will make ^ 

a good shoemaker in no time." Now the answer often is : " Sig- j 

nora. for the love of Heaven take my girl. She is a good girl, \ 

she loves her mother, and if she only knew how, she would help 
me ; and " (lowering the voice) '< I know the children in the 
Asilo are taught to fear God, so that I would not be afraid for 
my girl if I had to leave her in this sad world." 

We strive to keep the number of the g^rls equal with that of 
the boys, and to give them an equally good education. No 
part of the Home arouses more interest in visitors than the room 
where the girls are assembled. Here almost all the work of the 
house is carried on — the knitting of all the stockings, all the cut- 
ting-out, sewing, making, and mending of garments for the chil- 
dren, and of the house linen. A certain number are told off for 
house- work, and when the study hours are also counted, it is 
made clear that our g^rls, like the good woman of the Proverbs, 
'• eat not the bread of idleness." 

It is our aim to train these dark-eyed, interesting daughters of 
Italy to be good daughters and wives — to be virtuous and mod- 
est, not because they are watched and spied u^on, but because 
they honor God and respect themselves. Early habits of order 
and industry are seldom wholly laid aside in after life ; and if 
these once come to be loved for their own sake, a great advance 
will be gained toward the improvement of society. 

I have tried to give some idea of our progress and our encour- 
agements. But it would be unjust to ourselves if I did not say 
something of our hindrances, trials, and disappointments. These 

Her Work Goes On, 279 

are constantly arising, from the children themselves, from their 
parents and relations, and from the opposition of the priests. 

This opposition, I regret to say, does not diminish. The Car- 
dinal Vicar of Rome, in his late charge, condescends to aim a 
special blow at us, and threatens with the severest ecclesiastical 
penalties such as in future send their children to the Home, or < 
leave them there after this warning. Even the Pope does not 
consider it beneath his dignity to add an anathema, and affirms 
that until Protestant congregations and schools are driven out of 
Rome, it is impossible for him to hold friendly relations with the 
Government. This has taken effect chiefly among the women, and 
has led to serious annoyances at the Home, resulting, in some in- 
stances, in the withdrawal of some of the children. Frequently, 
however, the very women who had clamored for the dismission 
of their children would return a day or two afterward entreating 
us to receive them again. Sometimes, out of compassion to the 
children, we have done this. With others, it was only too flagrant 
that money had been paid to induce them to withdraw their chil- 
dren ; and the most frivolous pretences are alleged to justify the 
withdrawal. But, for all these things, the Home prospers and 
increases in numbers and usefulness. 

Our needs also increase. It is impossible to extend the indus- 
tries without outlay. We want to start a laundry, which will 
be as great a help to the g^rls as printing is to the boys. I am 
convinced that it may be made not only self-supporting, but a 
source of income 

Another great need is our rent. If it were possible to buy a 
house, it would take a great burden off" our mind. We scarcely 
dare hope for it, but as a step in that direction, I propose that 
we commence a fund by placing to its account any balance we 
may have at the close of the year. 

Not to speak of other desirable things, we want a little gym- 

28o Her Work Goes On, ^ 

nasium for the boys, and something of the same kind for the ' 
girls, to encourage them to outdoor games. But an urgent need 
we have felt all along has been to provide for the very little ones, 
and for those who, though not positively ill, need a little change, 
"a little rest and care, which could not be given without with- 
drawing some of the elder children from their work, or overtask- 
ing the strength of matron or teachers. 

Of course we shall be told that the answer to the first demand \ 

is easy — Don't take very young children. And this is what we 
had decided on — to receive none under seven years old. But 
this is the only institution of the kind in Rome, and it became 
very hard to enforce this rule arbitrarily. Six was vei^ near to 
seven, and five was not much further ; and little creatures of 
four and three, with sad, earnest eyes and old faces, delicate and 
under-fed, were brought with tears and entreaties that we would 
take them. And it was impossible not to see the advantage, ' 

both to the institution and to the children, if we could take them ' 

at an earlier age before bad habits were formed, and while yet 
tendencies to disease might be overcome by proper nourishment. 

I thought it well over, and determined to make the venture 
and give my plan a fair trial before laying it formally before the 
Committee, or involving our fund in the expense. This 1 did by 
taking a house at Frascati, where rent is much less and the 
air so good, placing in it an English nurse, whose kindness and 
patience in sickness we knew, reserving the best and airiest room 
for such of the children of the institution as required change, 
and filling the other rooms with the dear little ones we had been 
obliged to reject because of age. 

We began with some of the most touching cases of want and 
desertion I have ever known. One was recommended by the wife 
of your excellent Ambassador, whose praise I need not speak, she 
is so well known as foremost in all good works ; but I may say 

Her Work Goes On. 281 

how much her kind words helped me to make this beginning. 
*' I am confident," she wrote to me at that time, " that this 
branch of the work will meet with the greatest sympathy from 
all, and a response in every mother's heart." An English lady 
at once gave me five pounds toward it, which enabled me to 
send the few articles of furniture required. So this off-shoot of 
the Home began, and, I rejoice to say, has succeeded beyond ex- 
pectation. The expense has not exceeded what we formerly paid 
for nursing cases of serious illness in the Home. We now have 
a chance to ascertain what ailments children have, before send- 
ing them to the Home, and during this probation can test the 
truth of statements made concerning them. And above all we give 
the poor little people a better chance for a healthy life, and so 
for a happy and useful one. Sixteen or eighteen of our children 
at the Home have in this way had a change of air and scene. 
We are able to give them more freedom than is possible under 
the stricter discipline of the Home, so as to get more at individ- 
ual disposition and character. The very breaking of the mo- 
notony of regular school life has been good. A more homelike 
feeling has grown up. Many are the little anecdotes stored up 
to tell, on their return, about work and walks when " in villeggia- 
tura." It is their great delight, both boys and girls, to help with 
the house-work and then, each in charge of one or more of the 
little ones, to start for the Aldobrandini gardens, where they can 
sit by the fountains, or wander at sweet will. But the greatest 
of all treats was to make a pique-nique, taking their brown 
loaves, some figs and clusters of grapes, and away in the fresh 
morning air over the hills among the cyclamen and wild thyme 
to dear old Tusculum, still, as in the old days, pleasant and very 
beautiful in the eyes of all Romans. 

Thus, then, the Junior Home is established at Frascati. Work 
is opening before us in all directions. The Institution will soon 

282 Her Work Goes On, 

be better known among the Italians themselves; and among 
Christians of every oame we may look for help, as its benefits 
are more and more felt and it is better understood that we love 
all and seek to help all, irrespective of party feeling. 

Am I too ambitious when I look forward to seeing one day our 
own building, large enough to contain double our present num- 
ber — ^boys on one side, girls on the other, with chapel and class- 
rooms in the centre ? This, so far as I knew Mrs. Gould's plans, 
would just meet her wishes ; and our aim should be to carry 
out her work as she would have done were she still with us. 
This is the best tribute to her memory. 

Until I entered upon this portion of her work, I had no idea 
how extreme and unwearied her labors were. I am astonished 
at what one woman, by courage and energy, actually got through 
in a single day, while burdened with weakness and suffering 
which to most- of us would have been an excuse for doing noth- 
ing. To her it was a reason for leaving nothing undone which 
it was possible to do. 

Well do I remember meeting her at the foot of the Spanish 
steps a few days before we left Rome, in the summer of 1875. It 
was a very hot and trying afternoon. ** Where are you going ? " 
said I ; " you look only fit for your bed." 

" Please don't talk of bed," she replied ; " I dread being obliged 
to take to it more than I can tell. I was on my way to see you, 
but wondered how I was to get up those steps. See how good 
God is ! He knew I wanted terribly to see you, and as I could 
not get up, he just sent you down." 

We stood on one side, near the fountain in the Piazza di 
Spagna, while she told me of her anxieties, her hopes and fears. 
Even then, she seemed to have an idea that her time was short. 
I urged her to form a Committee in Rome, that might aid her 
at least in obtainmg funds. As we were saying good-bye, she 

Her Work (joes On, 283 

grasped my hand and added : " You have promised to help me 
with those dear children. You will work with me when you 
come back. It takes a load off my mind and gives me fresh 
courage. Now, 1 know why I craved so to see you." 

Soon after that, I called on her in the Via Babuino to say fare- 
well. She was too ill to leave her room, and was lying on her 
bed looking pale and worn. She " could not forsake the poor 
children," she said ; and there, on f^ach side of her couch, was a 
little cot with a sick child, and two other children were waiting 
on them and trying to amuse them. I coulJ see, by the drawn 
look of pain, that she was in great suffering ; but even then, she 
seemed entirely to forget herself in trying to interest us in the 
children, and even sat up with a great effort in her eagerness to 
show some work and a drawing thafthe little ones had made. 

** Does it not tire you too much to leave them with you ? " 

"Oh, no, no ! " she answered. "I should only be fretting for 
fear they would not get all they needed in their illness." 

In reply to another question, she said : " I am in a loving 
Father's hands to raise me up, if he sees good, or — " hesitating 
as a look of deep sorrow passed over her face — " or carry on my 
work by other hands. Remember, dear friend," she added, 
" you have promised to help me, and it makes me happy, for I 
know you will do it." 
;* ' " If I live," I said, " I will try." I felt that we were saying 

farewell for the last time, and with many warm expressions we 
parted. We had scarcely reached the outer door, when to our 
great surprise, she appeared on the landing, and throwing her 
arms around my neck, the great tears rolling down her cheeks, 
she murmured : *' I could not part with you so. I must kiss you 
once more and say, / trust you to care for those dear children** 

When we returned to Rome, a few months later, she was at 
rest, wearied out with the heat and burden of the day. Her works 

284 Her Work Goes On, 

do follow her, and I am thankful if in any measure I can fulfill 
my promise and help to carry them on. 

Her life speaks for itself. It was one of unwearied benevo- 
lence, love, and self-devotion. It appeals especially to all Chris- 
tian ladies among her own countrywomen, to sustain what she 
so nobly and courageously began. Another has labored, and ye 
have entered into her labors. One sows and others reap ; but 
the time is fast coming when the sower and the reapers shall 
rejoice together. Their work is wrought for the great Master 
who Himself when on earth took the little children in his arms 
and blessed them, and has promised, when he returns again, to 
"give to every man according as his work shall be." .... 

I remain, with sincere respect. 

Yours truly, 

M. L. Edwardes. 




*"^^ 3 1539