People and Countries visited in a winding journey around the world

Front matter

PEOPLE AND COUNTRIES VISITED IN A WINDING JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD BY O. W. WIG _D^A. M., M. D. TRANSLATOR OF COUSIN, PASCAL, ETC, AND EDITOR OF SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY, MONTAIGNE, MADAME DE STAJXL'S GERMANY, ETC BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY €\X lufcrtmOi* press, <Iambn&0E Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, by O. W. "WIGHT, A. M„ M. D., In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. All Eights Reserved.

Preface

. Last year I made a long, winding journey around the globe, in order to observe every country in which an Aryan people has established civil government. One looks in vain elsewhere for progress and liberty. The Aryan nations of antiquity, Greece and Rome, must be studied in history, for the Greek and Roman peoples have passed away and can no longer be observed in their daily life. Yet the lands occupied by these vanished races may still be visited by the traveler, who can at least become familiar with the scenes in the midst of which they dwelt. The study of Aryan peoples, whether living or departed, can alone reveal to us the origin and development of the world's civilization. History is comparatively barren without a knowledge of geography. Maps may aid us much, especially when studied with the help of some experience and a vivid im agination ; but traveling alone can give us true geographi cal knowledge.

Current history becomes real to us, is translated into personal experience, only when by traveling we observe at once people and country in their intimate relations. In pursuit of such vital knowledge, I traversed Europe from north to south, from east to west, and jour neyed far off to Australia and New Zealand, on the other VI

PREFACE.

. side of the globe, where fresh Aryan communities are planting civil liberty in the southern hemisphere. Art, science, literature are, with a very few notable exceptions, the products of Aryan civilization, and can be studied only in countries occupied by Aryan peoples. Above all, in such countries alone do we find recognition of human rights and the establishment of institutions for the benefit of the many. There is doubtless room for progress in the most enlightened nations, for civilization has not yet borne all its fruits. In the two introductory chapters of this book I have given some reminiscences of previous journeys, for the purpose of fully and, I hope, clearly revealing to the reader my own standpoint while writing it. More than a quarter of a century ago I spent several years in Europe, the experiences of which enabled me during my recent journey to note the progress made by many civilized nations within my own recollection.

In the slow development of the human race, it affords one an exalted pleasure to see with his own eyes a real advancement. During the whole of the nineteenth century, the masses of Europe have, by degrees, won the right to better education, to retain for themselves more and more of the bread earned by their toil, to enjoy a wider freedom of conscience, and to share in an increasing degree in the making of the laws by which they are governed. I have also aimed to make these two chapters of remi niscences interesting to the general reader. With this sub ordinate end in view, I have given portraitures and unpublished anecdotes of many interesting or distinguished

PREFACE.

. VII persons of the past generation, whom it was my good for tune to meet. Personal sketches that might have been im proper, in bad taste, or in violation of hospitality, if written concerning the Uving, .are now in place as a part of history. The leading purpose of the book, however, is political and social. I have aimed to draw faithful portraits of the leading civilized nations of the world as they exist to-day. Of course, the features of the great peoples of the earth can be drawn only in outline on the small pieces of canvas that constitute the brief chapters of a single volume. Yet generalizations, if true to fact, if they are the results of accurate observation, if, above all, they embody the real laws that govern the development of humanity in time and space, are the best aids to a fruitful study of detailed history.

The reader may or may not accept my philosophical definition of a nation, yet it will certainly reveal to him that underlying every independent national existence is a problem wider, deeper, than form of government, territorial possession, succession of events, or transition of passing generations of men. Whether my particular theory is accepted or not, my object will be gained if I succeed in convincing the reader that the Providence of history has a rational basis. Travel among the peoples of the world may well have a higher aim than personal amusement or material pleasure. "What shapest thou here at the world? 'Twas shapen long ago; The Maker shaped it, And thought 'twere best even so."

PREFACE.

. The awakening and consolidation of nationalities have made the present century remarkable in the world's history. The French Revolution, stimulated by the successful Ameri can War of Independence, aroused the slumbering peoples of Europe. Men seemed to be suddenly freed from the torpor of a long period of tyranny. The French, under the magnificent leadership of Napoleon, were everywhere victorious, as long as they adhered to their mission of carrying freedom to other nations. But as soon as the victor of Marengo and Austerlitz began to substitute his own military despotism for the absolute rule of his predecessors, the nationalities of Europe, which he had himself helped to arouse into new life, combined for his overthrow. Not only was the career of Napoleon closed with the great battle of Leipsig, and the supplementary battle of Waterloo, but also the career of irresponsible government throughout the civilized world.

The Congress of Vienna proposed, but the awakened nationalities disposed. The work of Metternich and Talleyrand has been undone, and to-day, throughout all Europe west of Turkey and Russia, kings are only the hereditary executors of the will of the people. Constitu tional and elective government has taken the place of absolutism. In the preceding centuries, each monarch said with Louis XIV., "I am the State." In our day, before the close of the nineteenth century, the peoples of Western Europe are saying, "We are the State." The new German Empire, United Italy, Republican France, and progressive England are bearing the best fruits of political liberty. The wonderful transition, so full of hope to mankind, I have endeavored to trace clearly in the account of my long journey.

PREFACE.

. IX Historical summaries, descriptions of places and scenery, statistics of national resources, pictures of social life, discus sions of public policy, sketches of institutions, indications of material prosperity, accounts of the rapid recent advancement in the application of discoveries in science to commerce and war, are not wanting, but are given in subserviency to the main purpose of tracing the progress of civil liberty in the dominant nations of the world. The influence of America on the current history of mankind has not been sufficiently appreciated, and many of our statesmen are too ignorant of history to learn the useful lessons which other peoples might teach. Some Americans may think that I have treated Russia too leniently. Let them study the country and people of the great empire in the light of universal history and they may come to a more comprehensive conclusion.

Russia has not yet reached the political development of the na tions of western Europe, and should not be denounced for being what she is, for not trying to pluck the fruits of an advanced civilization before it is ripe. The Slavs are an Aryan race, in them is working the leaven of a noble form of Christianity, and I have no misgivings as to the glorious future of the Russian people. They are our youngest brethren, and have worked their way up with true self reliance and heroic endurance, to the mightiest nation on the globe, with the great and responsible mission of civiliz ing the semi-barbarous Mohamedan people of Western and Central Asia, and in due time will give a good account of themselves in the mighty drama of the world's history. I have faith in them. X

PREFACE.

. Since the chapter in this book on the New German Empire was written, the venerable Emperor William has died, and has been succeeded by his son Frederick, who has in turn died, leaving the throne to his son William. A nation that has established constitutional government is much less affected by change of rulers than an absolute monarchy. The young emperor seems disposed to enter upon a reign of peace. His friendly visit to the Czar of Russia destroys the last hope of France to make an alliance hostile to Germany, and has done more than any recent event to dispel fears of a European war. The rapid suc cession of emperors in no way changes my views as to the meaning and destiny of the consolidated German nation. It is to be hoped that of the great army of cultivated and prosperous Americans who visit Europe, an increasing number will become students of history, of civil and politi cal institutions, in short will become travelers and not mere tourists.

I shall be contented if I have contributed, in the humblest way, to bring about such a desirable result. O. W. WIGHT. Detroit, July, 1888. OF Page 17 57 Si) 100 125 148 181 207 220 239 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Part II. Europe

Chapter I. Over the Sea — Improved Ocean Navigation .... Chapter II. The New German Empire Chapter III. LTnited Italy Chapter IV. Greece, seen from the Sea — Athens — The Acropolis Chapter V. Constantinople and the Eastern Question Chapter VI. The Black Sea Chapter VII. Asiatic Russia Chapter VIII. European Russia n CONTENTS. Page. Chapter IX. The place of Russia in the European System - 267 296 Chapter X. Norway and Sweden Chapter XI. Cruise to the North Cape and Back — The Midnight Sun 317 Chapter XII. Copenhagen — Denmark — Scandinavia — Slesvig-Holstein 338 Chapter XIII. Holland and Belgium Chapter XIV. The French Republic Chapter XV. Switzerland 355 370 387 Chapter XVI. The Battle of Waterloo Chapter XVH. Recent Progress est England 396 404

Part III. To The Antipodes

Chapter I. From London to Port Said — The Mediterranian Sea 426 Chapter II. The Suez Canal Chapter III. The Red Sea Chapter IV. The Indian Ocean Chapter V. Australia 435 444 452 463 Chapter VI. New Zealand

PART I. Introductory.— Reminiscences of Previous Journeys

CHAPTER I.

first journey. Oome account of my previous journeys in Europe (&) seems to be necessary in order to enable the * reader to understand many allusions in this book. At the same time it will reveal the sources of personal information which could not have been acquired in a single year. Observations made long ago have enabled me to form comparative judg ments that may be of more value than hasty first impressions. I first went to Europe in the spring of 1853. I was then young enough to enjoy everything with fresh zest, to seek knowledge of men and things with eager industry, to receive lasting impressions ; old enough to form judgments independent of guide books, to view a world strange to me with my own eyes, to discriminate between externals and enduring realities. I sailed from Boston on the steamer Niagara.

In comparison with the mighty steamships that now traverse all the oceans of the earth, the Niagara was small enough, uncomfortable enough, but in eleven days it landed me and many others safely in the city of Liverpool. On board was Hawthorne, who had recently been appointed consul to Liverpool, with his family. Mrs. Hawthorne was a charming woman, who told me curious and interesting anecdotes of her husband, of the people at Brook Farm, of Margaret Fuller, and of others, most of which have never found their way into print, which I have no inclination to repeat here. Julian and his older sister were exceedingly bright and vivacious children, with whom I spent many joyous hours in romping on the deck of the ship. John McDonald, now Sir John McDonald, then a youngish man, although holding some Canadian official position, was among the notables on board.

He, Hawthorne and myself had long interesting conversations nearly every night, until the "wee small hours," over Welsh "rabbits" and porter, after which we took a "walk before breakfast" on deck. Hawthorne, usually so taciturn, was on such occa sions one of the most brilliant talkers I ever listened to. From the somber depths of his nature would well up abundantly great utterances equal to any thing written down in his books. From Liverpool I first went to see the country seat of the Marquis of Westminster, as one of the notable sights in the neighborhood. His title of marquis has since been raised to that of duke. The place was very fine, and at that time seemed to my inexperienced eyes very dazzling. A description, written home at the time, would now appear to me greatly exaggerated. The servants of the wealthy nobleman were very obliging, and showed me, with others, through the mansion and over the grounds.

I then began to realize that England, in comparison with America, is like a garden. At the outset I was struck with the omnipre sence of the police. Upon the principle that the government is best which governs least, the English government seemed very inferior to the American. According to the same principle a government that does not govern at all would be perfect. The para dox leads up to Nihilism, which it would be out of place to discuss here. With little delay I hastened to the Lake District of England, not so much with the thought of enjoying the fine scenery as of making a pilgrimage to places consecrated by favorite poets. Less than thirty years of age, I was fuller then than now of Mrs. Hemans, Wordsworth, Coleridge and Southey. A rose was plucked from the bush planted by Mrs. Hemans, and carried till it faded and crumbled.

Rydal Mount, where Wordsworth lived and wrote and died, was approached with as much awe as a veteran churchman approaches Mount Sinai. The scenes amid which Coleridge lived and struggled seemed superior to ordinary earth and sky. The untimely grave of Hartley Coleridge was visited with feelings "too deep for tears." Only the English laws against poaching kept me from fishing in the beautiful stream so often waded by Mr. Christopher North — Professor Wilson. The Falls of Lodore made music for me as they had many times made music for Southey. Lakes and fields and mountains, forming exquisitely beautiful and picturesque land scapes, seemed to me to have been planted there at the dawn of creation, on purpose for the great poets that were to come in these latest times. My daily walks, which increased up to twenty miles, together with the bracing air of northern England, gradually reddened my blood, and did me the wholesome ser vice of tempering my superlative poetic sentiment.

At Ambleside, in the lake district, Harriet Martineau invited me and another American gentleman, a clergyman from Cincinnati, to tea. She lived in a beautiful cottage surrounded by lawns, shrubs and roses, altogether forming a pretty picture of refined taste and comfort. Miss Martineau was well advanced in years, fat, homely, and distressingly deaf. She put in your lap a tin-pan, connected with her ear by a long tin tube, into which (the tin-pan, not the ear) one directed his conversation. She was full of pleasant anecdotes, and a brilliant talker. Just then she was carrying on her correspondence with Atkinson, and had become a firm believer in mesmerism. She gravely told me how she had broken a cow of the bad habit of kickinoover both the milk and the milkmaid by mesmerizinothe animal only once.

Miss Martineau told a characteristic story of Margaret Fuller, which, I believe, has never been published. At the time of Margaret's visit to her, an aged mother was living with her. The old lady became very fond of Miss Fuller, and enjoyed her magnificent conversation very much. One day Margaret looked the venerable woman straight in the face and discoursed at length and with great eloquence on the " unloveliness of old age." The response was brief and very appro priate. "Alas!" exclaimed her astonished listener, " the poor creature is stark mad." From the Lake District I hurried on to Scotland, fully determined to see everything described by Sir Walter Scott. I had not yet learned that one sees only what is behind his own eyes. A cat may look at a king, but does not see the king. No other mortal will ever see in Scotland all that the great novelist had behind his eyes and wrote about so enchantingly.

However, I traveled all over Scotland and looked much upon one of the fairest lands of earth. Ayr shire was not to me very picturesque, but its soil had been consecrated by the feet of Robert Burns. The poet of humanity, toiling, suffering, erring, had transformed a considerable piece of common earth into an enchanted land. Even Tarn O'Shanter's tavern was a welcome asylum on a rainy day, and the leaking old cup, said to have been used too freely by the poet, served for a questionable kind of communion. The "dew off Ben Nevis" seemed to be the especial nectar of Scotch gods, and was quaffed abundantly in memory of the national poet. At Glasgow I was initiated into the Burns Club. A prosperous merchant, especially noted for his large gifts to the New Kirk, took me there without letting me know in what the initiation was to con sist.

The company was not very large, but select. The chairman informed me that the initiation consisted in drinking fourteen tumblers of Scotch whisky toddy, which were not very formidable to the seasoned old members of the club, but might be rather trying to an inexperienced American. I had too much pride, false pride, to back out, yet dreaded the fiery ordeal. Membership in the club was not worth such an encounter with the demon. The whisky was measured for me — a sherry glass even full for each toddy. You could mix with the whisky as much or little sugar, as much or little hot or cold water as you pleased, but there was no shirking the exact quantity of spirits. I worked my way through the ordeal, in the course of the evening, triumphantly, but played a trick on them which no one discovered.

There was an abundance of hard biscuit, as they called it, which we should call "hard tack." I nibbled plentifully of that, which absorbed much of the alcohol and held its intoxicating power in abeyance. I not only took my allotted fourteen tumblers, but also two more, out of bravado, then helped my friend home, who had rather treacherously taken me there, went alone to my hotel, wound up my watch, and went to bed with my head in the right end of the bed. I was a member in full standing of the Glasgow Burns Club, which I have never visited since. Excursions were made everywhere, over Loch Lomond, over Loch Katrine, down the Clyde, away to the islands of Iona and Staffa, out to Loch Leven and Loch Awe, through the Caledonian Canal to Inverness, along the Grampian Hills to Perth, to Edinburgh and its suburbs, to Abbotsford, etc.

Foot journeys were also made in all directions, through winding valleys, across dreary moorlands, and up rocky mountains. I had the rare good fortune to see a clear sunset from the top of Ben Nevis. A good many times I saw the sun rise and set from the top of Arthur's Seat, at Edinburgh. I achieved one pedestrian victory, in which I felt some pride as an American. At a country inn, not far off from Glasgow, I met two pleasant English barristers, who informed me that they had journeyed from London on foot. They said they were traveling towards Fort William, at the entrance of the Caledonian Canal, and intended to make the circuit of all Scotland. I informed them that my destination was the same as theirs, and proposed to accompany them, with their permission. They readily assented, but told me with frankness that they were seasoned pedestrians and could not linger by the way for the sake of anyone's company, how ever agreeable it might be.

I responded that I would do my best to keep up with them, but did not wish them on any account to slacken their pace for me. The next morning we set out together, " bright and early." On we went, over the highlands and through the passes between Loch Lomond and Loch Awe, here and there catching strangely beau tiful glimpses of both waters and the surrounding mountains. One of the barristers fell out at about the thirty-fifth milestone. The other, the more stalwart of the two, was roused by a little chaffing on my part and proposed to have it out with the Yankee— England against America. I was athletic and just at the right stage of pedestrian training. On we went, round the head of Loch Awe, towards the western ocean. My companion gave up the race at the forty-sixth milestone, and I continued alone to the fifty-first.

The two Englishmen came up the next day and acknowledged that America had beaten. Subsequently we climbed Ben Nevis together, and they turned out to be very agreeable and exceedingly intelligent fellow-travelers. One day a little party of us went on a boat from Edinburgh, up the snake-like river to Sterling Castle. Among the number was a diminutive American gentleman, whose self-consciousness and egotism were in inverse ratio to the dimensions of his body. He discoursed to us with much anti quarian knowledge about the great broad-brimmed hat of Cromwell, which we should find among the curiosities of the castle. He informed us that Fowler had measured his head and found it to be just the size of Daniel Webster's head. He was very certain that Webster's head was as large as, or larger than, the head of Oliver Cromwell.

There fore, he knew the Cromwell hat would fit him, if, indeed, it were large enough. Soon after we entered the castle, the janitor, posted by some of the rest of us, put the famous hat on the head of the small American. It fell down upon his shoulders, entirely covering his face, making his slender body and thin legs look still more insignificant than usual. He looked like an ant carrying off an egg much larger than itself. Great was the amusement of the rest, and still greater the chagrin of the little gentleman, who had argued himself into the belief that his head was at least as large as Oliver Cromwell's. In the middle of summer I spent a restful Sunday in a small village at the head of- Loch Awe. Early Monday morning I went to the stage office to engage a seat for the head of Loch Lomond.

The distance by the road, as it wound among the mountains along the circuitous valleys, was thirty-five miles. The con ductor informed me that every place was taken, and that I must wait till the next morning. Rather petu lantly and rashly I told him that I would arrive at his destination on foot before his stage arrived. The passengers, securely arranged in their seats, laughed at me scornfully. An Englishman wanted to bet me a guinea. I responded that I never bet money, but would bet him a bottle of wine for our dinner. He "booked" the bet and the stage drove off. A good map of Scotland, always carried in my pocket, showed me that the distance straight across, over the mountain range, was not more than eleven miles. It also revealed that a short distance ahead a stream came down from the summit of the mountain, and that a stream, taking its rise from the same point, descended on the opposite side.

With those two streams as guides I crossed over in little more than three hours. On a railing of the bridge over a torrent, not more than half a mile from the hotel at the end of the route, Macaulay, the historian, was sitting with a book in his hand. He enquired of me, in an off-hand way, the reason for my rapid pace. I told him the story, at which he laughed heartily, and remarked: "You Americans always contrive to come out ahead." It is the only time I ever saw him, and I was polite enough not to indi cate to him that I. knew who he was. I admired his large round head and plump, vigorous body. He looked an incarnation of memory, a walking maga zine of rhetoric and facts. Of course the English man paid his bet, and the laugh was on the other side. One dreary, chilly, misty, gusty afternoon, I went over Loch Lomond, when there were but few pas sengers on the boat.

I noticed the Duchess of Argyle, with two female servants, accompanied by her two boys, "strawberry blonds," bright, agile, high-bred, one of whom, long afterwards, married a daughter of the English Queen, the other of whom, not long ago, became notorious in the divorce court. The duchess, taking the initiative, entered into conversation with me, and made herself exceed ingly agreeable. I gave her my arm down the slippery gang-plank to the dock, from which a road led up to Inverary Castle, the seat of the Duke of Argyle. She thanked me warmly, and I lifted my hat to her without betraying in any way that I knew who she was. She had previously been pointed out to me, in company with her mother, the stately Duchess of Sutherland, and her two beautiful sisters, the Duchess of Blantyre and the Lady Grosvenor, the wife of the eldest son of the Marquis of Westminster.

I mention this unim portant incident solely for the purpose of bearing my testimony against a very general impression at home that English people in traveling are haughty, stiff, reserved and unapproachable. My experience, of many years in many lands, has been to the contrary. At Edinburgh I first saw Queen Victoria, young, fair, happy-looking, sitting proudly by the stately Prince Consort in a royal carriage, receiving the homage of her loyal Scotch subjects. Standing on the balcony of a hotel I lifted my hat and bowed respectfully as they passed, and received a bow in return. A British gentleman by my side remarked sarcastically, "They evidently take you to be somebody." I felt that I was one of the sovereign people of the United States, treated the queen of Great Britain and her consort with deferential courtesy as fellow-sovereigns, and was treated with civility in return.

Noblesse oblige. My relation to the majesty of England was, in a certain sense, higher than that of my sarcastic friend. Sir William Hamilton, the renowned Scotch meta physician, whose miscellaneous philosophic papers I had already collected and published in America, called on me at my hotel in Edinburgh, and gave me a cordial invitation to spend a week with him at Largo, on the other side of the Forth, whither he had gone to spend the summer vacation. The invitation was thankfully accepted. A more beautiful, refined, cultured household never existed on this planet than that of Sir William Hamilton. Several of the professors of Edinburgh University were spending the summer in the neighborhood, some one of whom, with his family, usually dropped in of an evening, forming a group of intellectual people whose conversation was in pleasing contrast with the idle chit-chat of merely formal society.

Sir William's oldest son, Hubert, who became Sir Hubert Hamilton, on the death of his father, was home from Oxford for the vacation, made with me long tramps by the sea shore and over the hills during* the morninghours. Lady Hamilton was one of the best of wives and mothers, one of the noblest of women. One of the Edinburgh professors told me a pleasing, romantic little story of her marriage. Sir William spent his nights and days in the midst of his great folios, exploring the whole realm of philosophic literature. His mother, well advanced in years, kept house for him. With the mother lived a favorite niece, whom she educated and cared for as a daughter. At length the mother died. The next day after the funeral, Sir William found his cousin packing her trunks, in preparation for her departure.

He was greatly distressed and demanded to know why she was going away, just when her society and services were more needed than ever. Of course she could give him no explanation, but kept on with her packing. He sought the advice of a friend, who happened to be more experienced in the ways of the world and understood better the delicate instincts of woman. The explanations of his friend revealed to Sir William what had never entered into the imagination of a man of unequaled loftiness and purity of soul. He went home and immediately proposed marriage to his cousin. Un clouded domestic happiness was the sweet reward of their lives. Hubert Hamilton told me an anecdote illustrating his father's wonderful, almost miraculous, memory. The Greek professor came to him one day greatly pleased with what he thought to be a new discovery of a piece of exquisite Greek poetry.

Sir William, forgetting that other men's memories were not equal to his own, asked the professor to repeat the passage, Avhich was of considerable length. That was impos sible, but the first line happened to be recalled. Hamilton repeated the line and went on reciting the whole passage, which he happened to have seen quoted by one of the Scaligers. Sir William was really a monster of erudition, to repeat John Fiske's phrase, such as we find only in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. I had the great happiness, some months later in London, to effect a reconciliation between Sir William Hamilton and M. Cousin, the eminent French eclectic philosopher. Hamilton had reviewed Cousin's system with great severity in the Edinburgh Quarterly, which provoked the wrath of the mer curial Frenchman.