The waters he drank were said to have
been taken from High Rock spring of Saratoga Springs."
The city contains many spacious, imposing hotels and fine tree-
bordered streets, which at once suggest that Saratoga was the
one time "Queen of Spas." But if the people no longer come here
in such great numbers, Nature still reigns over the place, and
it possesses that quiet and repose which make it an ideal place
in which to spend a vacation. Here are wonderful old elms whose
branches intermingle to form a canopy over the streets. So
gracefully do their drooping sprays of green descend that we
could think of nothing with which to compare them save emerald
fountains. These old trees are more stately, more graceful than
those at Versailles. Beautiful villas, public halls and handsome
churches are scattered about the city. Viewed from the
surrounding hills, the buildings seem to nestle in a leafy
wilderness. The annual horseraces held here still draw large
crowds, but as a summer resort Saratoga, like Trenton Falls, has
seen its day.
It is not Old Saratoga that contains the most interest for the
traveler, but the region around Schuylerville. Here the green
carpet covers all the hills, whose smooth, velvety appearance
adds greatly to the beauty of the country.
The day of our arrival at Saratoga was extremely sultry, and
heavy masses of clouds darkened the sky. Soon bursting peals of
thunder told us that the warrior clouds were bringing their
heavy artillery into action. This storm passed around us,
however, and we hastened to the site of the beautiful monument
commemorating the decisive victory of the Revolution. It stands
on the site of Burgoyne's fortified camp, overlooking the place
of his surrender. The height of this monument is one hundred and
fifty-four feet, its base is forty feet square, and it contains
one hundred and eighty-four steps, which lead up to the last
windows, which command an enchanting view of from ten to thirty
miles in all directions.
The country all around is full of very picturesque, scenic
surprises, and the lordly Hudson winding among its hills of
vernal loveliness is not the least of them. Your attention is
quickly recalled from the dead past, whether you like it or not,
to the living present. From this place you will see and hear
things which no historian can ever record; paragraphs of the
life history of the palpitant beauty and pulsing song of
existence. The true lover of Nature will find no greater delight
than to linger here to drink in the beauty of the place as his
eyes rove over the vast expanse of gently undulating hills that
melt away in the blue haze. The river flowing through masses of
verdue, the towering trees that climb the surrounding heights
and skirt the pastoral landscapes, afford constant evidence of
the natural wealth and beauty of this historic region.
Standing here, gazing out over the beautiful scene, we recalled
our visit to the famous battlegrounds of Waterloo.
It was on a lovely June day that we left the Belgium capital,
turning again and again to look at the wonderful Palace of
Justice which dominates this city, as the capitol does at
Washington.
The country around the field of Waterloo is very level, hardly
relieved by an undulation, and dotted at intervals with a few
trees that heighten the loneliness of the scene rather than
relieve it. Here we became aware that we were gazing at one of
the finest sites that man has ever known for the purpose of
mutual destruction. We readily saw that this level region gave
ample room for both infantry and cavalry, where the many
thousands of human beings were brought together in deadly
collision. It was apparently designed by Nature to feed the
hungry toilers of earth, but "was consecrated by man for a
solemn spectacle of deliberate slaughter."
How often this fertile country was made the battleground of
surrounding nations! Here it was we felt that indomitable spirit
that rose above every oppression forced upon its people,
stopping the hordes of invading armies.
We ascended the hill that flanked the right wing of the position
of the English where the fight was hottest. From this eminence
we looked down on vast cultivated fields with acres of waving
barley and verdant meadows in which fine Holstein cattle were
grazing. This hill is composed of soil dug from Mount St. Jean
to cover the bones of the slain of both armies. This conical
tumulus contains upon its summit, set in a spacious and lofty
pedestal, a huge bronze lion cast from the cannon taken in
battle.
As we stood on its top the scene unrolled before us like a
wonderful panoramic painting, and we gazed out on this "great
chessboard, where the last hard game of Napoleon's and
Wellington's protracted match was played."
Here where all Nature seemed to breathe of peace and joy it
seemed difficult to believe that at that very season, one
hundred and four years ago, on this spot was fought one of the
memorable battles of the world. Here, after participating in the
activities of a world war, how like a dream it seemed to be
gazing down upon this fertile plain. The larks were soaring in
the blue above, uttering the same sweet notes that charmed the
poet, Shelley, while we gazed out upon the fair scene toward La
Belle Alliance and La Haye Sainte. Nearer our eyes rested upon
the place that formed the key to the English position, where
they successfully resisted, throughout the day of the eighteenth
of June, the hottest assaults of the enemy. Then we beheld the
high road to Namur which passed through the center of the lovely
picture "as if inviting us to look upon the road Napoleon took
to make his escape when in the agony of his heart he exclaimed
'Sauve qui peut!' and fled from the field."
Near La Belle Alliance is a monument to the memory of the German
legion.
