Sketches beyond the sea

Front matter

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Preface

The letters which make np this book are a part of those sent to The Chicago Times from Europe, during the years 1877 and 1878. Thev include no portion of the correspondence which related to the Russo-Tiirkish war, or English politics.

When their issue in their present form was first decided on, it was thought best to modify the views taken of the English people in the earlier portion of the correspondence. It afterwards occurred to the writer that it would be more in accord with the details of the situation to let the letters stand as originally published; because their progress keeps step with the march of one who visits a strange country, encounters first its more repellant qualities, and gradually moves on till one gets face to face with its real, inner life. The letters herewith given are believed to be fairly representative of observations, whose commencement developed a thorough dislike of, and whose end was a hearty regard, and a most substantial respect for, those among whom they were made. It should be noted that the fault-finding, in the case of the English, is confined to what may be termed their external character; and that there is no partisanship in the writer's views, because he has nowhere failed to denounce the weaknesses and follies of his own countrymen whenever the opportunity to do so fairly presented itself.

4 PREFACE.

In Part II., while it is true that there was an excursion party made up substantially as represented, it is also true that the majority of the conversations reported did not occur. The writer, in using the four characters, was governed by a desire to present things from various points of view; such as they would be naturally seen by travelers of different ages, sexes, and conditions in life.

For the permission to use these letters in book form, the writer is indebted to Wilbur F, Stoi'ey, Esq., editor and proprietor of The Chicago Times; a gentleman whose great ability as a journalist, and incessant devotion to his profession, have in no sense impaired the kindliness of his nature.

F. B. W.

Chicago, March, 1879.

Part I. — England

XETTEB. PAGE.

I. In the Wilderness 9

II. A Glance Around, 12

III. In Ediaburgli Town, 17

IV. A Few Hours in Parliament, 27

V. English Oratory, 34

VI. The Happy Briton, 38

VII. External Views of the Briton 43

VIII. The London Fire-Department, ...... 47

IX. English Suavity, 56

X. " Trying it on a Dog," 62

XL The World's Metropolis, 68

XII. London Journalism, 74

XIII. London Journalism, 81

XIV. London Journalism, 86

XV. Americans Abroad 93

XVL The Yankee Abroad, 99

XVIL Among the Slums, . . . ' 107

XVIII. The London Slums, . . 114

XIX. British Red Tape, 121

XX. Getting into Position, - . . . 126

XXI. Curiosities in London Journalism, .... 132

XXII. Philological Excentricities, 136

XXIII. British Thoroughbreds 142

XXIV. British Cattle Show 150

XXV. Book-Makers, 154

XXVI. A Model Prison, 164

XXVII. A British Prison, . 171

XXVIII. London 'Bus Drivers 176

XXIX. George Eliot 183

XXX. Department of the Exterior, 188

CONTENTS.

LETTER. PAGE.

XXXI. Prominent Men, 194

XXXII. Parliamentary Notabilities, 302

XXXIII. Gladstone's Meeting, etc., 210

XXXIV. All About Legs 313

XXXV. Leg Athletics, 219

XXXVI. English Social Qualities, . 228

XXXVII. The Boat-Race, 335

XXXVIII. Westminster Abbey, 344

Part Ii.— The Continent

XXXIX. English and French, 353.

XL. Exposition Notes, 259'

XLI. An Excursion Party, 268

XLII. Getting Oti', 272

XLIII. Seeing Waterloo, 281

XLIV. Doing Holland, 287

XLV. Around Amsterdam, 395

XLVI. Amsterdam to the Rhine, 803

XLVII. Up the Rhine, 311

XLVIII. Up the Rhine, 330

XLIX. Through the Alps, 337

L. Among the Alps, 334

LI. An Open Letter 341

LII. The Excursionists in Paris, 349

LIII. The Excursionists in Paris, 357

LIV. Our Baby on the Steamer 363:

PART I. --ENGLAND.

SKETCHES

BEYOND THE SEA.

Letter I. In The Wilderness

London, June 25, 1877.

Ii^ I 'AVINGr been here only some three days, I am unprepared rill' "j. ^^ write anything intelligent in reference to the war, or ^-^^ anj^ other subject, in fact. London roars like a hundred Niagaras. The new comer is stunned by the tremendous clamor. It takes a week to become used to this uproar. Meanwhile, thought is suspended, the perceptions are dulled, the senses become as if chloroformed.

A stranger who enters into this diabolical region of racket goes about as helpless as a blind man lost in an interminable forest. I have lost myself at least a thousand times since I have been here. Sometimes others have found me when thus lost, and sometimes I have found myself. Rarely the latter, however, because after having gone up one street and down another, and through four others, and then discovered 1 was just where I started from, instead of being, as I supposed, two miles away — T have been bothered with the idea that it perhaps might not be myself, but somebody else whom I had found going about thus lost and bewildered. Generall}^, under such circumstances, I have referred the matter to arbitration — let it out to a policeman. All this is merely preliminary to saying that, as I as j'et have not had time or opportunity to get posted on the war question, or any other of importance, I shall have to devote this letter to something less complex. There's the ocean voyage, for instance. It lias been written about before, perhaps. I think I have somewhere seen something in the public jiriuts about a trip across the ocean; and, if such be the fact, then anything of the kind would not have the charm of complete novelty.

They are pretty much alike, these ocean voyages— as much so, almost, as one trip from Chicago to Omaha is like every other one. There is always the same crowd at the piers at starting. There is the husband who can't go, and his wife who can; and liis grief at parting is generally intense in proportion as she is young and handsome, and he reflects upon the awful temptations of the further shoi'es There is the wife who can't go, and the husband who must. She weeps, but whether from joy or sorrow varies according to circumstances. There was one of those bereft souls at our parting. Her husband stood by the guards throwing yearning glances at her through misty eyes. She had her face buried in a handkerchief, and the handkerchief rested upon the shoulder of a handsome young fellow, who seemed in nowise unhappy at the situation. As I afterward learned from the bereaved husband that it was neither brother nor cousin, but a " friend of mine, a devilish good fellow, you know," I am satisfied that there was one wife who found the separation at least not beyond endurance.

Two-thirds of the men and a certain jiercentage of the women commence the voyage by ballasting themselves very liberally with stimulants. Why men should get full on this i^articular occasion, any more than at a wedding or a funeral, or going to take a walk, or planting their mother-in-law, I know not. They do, however, and the result is that " sea-sickness " commences early in the voyage. One passenger was taken down by this malady before we left the dock, while two or three others, having, perhaps, a fear of becoming affected, were helped by sympathizing servants to their state-rooms. In fact, the most of the "sea-sickness" on our trip occurred before we had lost sight of the steeples of New York. One or two young misses left the breakfast table the first morning out with very pale faces and tightly compressed lips ; but this was all. The sea was almost as smooth as glass; and, were it not for the absence of the odor, we might have believed ourselves sailing along Chicago River.

On the voyage there are three things for the male passenger to do : To do nothing, to make love, or to drink British ale. Which

IN THE WILDERNESS. 11

is the most demoralizing of the three I am unprepared to say; nor will I assume to advise any one about to cross the ocean as to which of these three rocks it is most desirable, or least undesirable to split upon. The love making is perhaps the most pleasant and exciting while in progress; but then, it is much worse to "get over " than a debauch arising from Allsop or Dry Verzenay. Perhaps the role of doing nothing is the thing, because, while it does not afford any positive pleasure, it has the substantial recommendation that it nowhere affords any supplementary pangs.

The trip was absolutely without incident. We left to the half hour as advertised, and reached Liverpool within an hour of the time that had been set for our arrival. The whole run had the regularity of that of a well-managed railway train.

As this letter is to be devoted wholly to nothing in particular, let me glance over the depot of the Midland Railway, which connects Liverpool with London. It is grand in its proportions, great in its dimensions, and complete in its finish, as appear to be all the railway stations in this country.

What will attract the admiration of any American is the marvelous attention to detail everywhere exhibited. The dining rooms are graded according to the purse of the traveler, as are the cars, into first, second, and third classes. Everywhere are the most scrupulous cleanliness and the most exact order. There is a large wash-room with an abundance of towels, combs, brushes, and other usual supplies.

The water-closets are in ample rooms, with cheerful walls, and are as clean and free from odor as any similar appliance in any private house or hotel in Chicago. Herein our British brethren have it a long way the best of us. There is no excuse for the atrocious water-closets with which the great majority of American railway stations are provided. Their existence shows a most wretched indifference on the part of officials to the comfort of their patrons.

The difference in the two systems of railway management appears to be that among us the official is the magnate, the dignitary, and the public the servant, while here the official is the servant and the public the master. Perhaps the most desirable situation is one located about midway between the two, in which the public and officialism should occupy a common level, while each should compromise between its own dignity and the demands or rights of the others.

This letter may be very stupid, but it shall at least have one merit, that of being short. As soon as I can take the cotton out of my ears and am able to go around a corner M'ithout a guide, I may be able to furnish something of more interest. Meanwhile,

Letter II. A Glance Around

London, June 28, 1877.

"rir^THILE the Russians are crossing the Danube and getting ^^^^)^ their forces in line, preparatory to forcing the Balkan

■^ defenses, I may as yveU fill up the time by handling some commonplace subjects. We Yankees have something to learn from Johnny Bull ; and I am proud to say that, in many respects, we are prepared to reciprocate. We know how to keep a hotel, how to check baggage, how to build and run elevators, and how to do a hundred other things concerning which our British cousins have either very limited information or else know absolutely nothing.

Wherein those differences lie, and what their character, may perhaps be best shown by touching here and there upon a few, things familiar to both countries. Many of the comforts of life diftereuces in peoples, and characteristics of nations are made up of comparatively little things, a few of which are herewith presented.

The most intolerable crucifixion which an American has to undergo is at the hands of the English barber. He is not a bar- T^er, however; he is a "hair dresser " ; but he adds shaving, or skinning, faces to his multifarious accomplishments. In one shop, after an attendant had taken some of the hair and most of the skin from my jaws and throat, he inquired with all the vigor of a Cliicago operator about to dispose of a piece of real estate, if I did not want my corns pared or removed. Upon answering him that I was just out of corns, he proposed to clean my teeth. To this I demurred, on the ground that I was thinking some of buying a tooth-brush and going into the business on my own account. Not yet repressed, he contemplated the patches of gore

A GLANCE AROUND. IS

on my face, — produced by his razor, — and proposed to sell me a bottle of wash which was a sure cure for all such lacerations. " Mangling done here " should be the legend written over every English barber shop. The chair is an ordinary low, cheap, modern affair with arms, and a narrow head rest, which seems rather more designed for breaking the neck than supporting the head. But it's all right and logical. A man, even though an Englishman, can't do everything well. If he excel in cutting corns or cleaning teeth, he cannot be expected to excel in shaving. Life is too short for the complete acquisition of all these accomplishments. The manipulation of coi-ns requires an artistic mind — one too lofty and too ethereal to ever fully master the coarse and vulgar details of shaving a face. Yankees coming here will do well enough to bring their corns, but, if they cannot shave themselves, they had better leave their faces at home.

I am about to relate something which will be regarded in Chicago as a scandalous exaggeration.

Passing down Chancery lane a couple of mornings ago, I saw a drunken man. The sight of a drunken man in this great metropolis is not so singular as to deserve special mention ; but this is not all there is of it. He was engaged in an altercation with a policeman, was this inebriated Briton. He called the municipal guardian some hard names, did this obfuscated Englishman. He went further; he struck out from the shoulder, — somewhat unsteadily, it is true, — and " landed one " on the policeman's " bread basket."

Now, what was done by this insulted and outraged policeman ? I hear this answer frorii distant Chicago :

" First, he took the offender by the collar and mopped a couple of square rods of the street with him.

" Then he tore off his clothes, except a piece of his shirt and a remnant of one stocking.

"Then he went at him with his club, smashed his jaw, broke his skull, flattened his nose, and reduced the number of his front teeth.

"After this he took him by the legs and dragged him to the station, where he was rammed into a cell and allowed to remain in gore and unconsciousness till the next morning."

Ah, no, Chicago, that won't do. You are judging things over here from your own standpoint. You are all wrong. Nothing of the kind occurred. The policeman simply put out his hand and

SKETCHES BEYOND THE SEA.

gave the fellow a slight push, which sent him off the sidewalk into the street.

This is grossly improbable, I know, and I dislike to state it to an intelligent Chicago public. It is, however, not so improbable as what I have yet to state. For pushing the man into the street the policeman was arrested, and the next morning was tined by the magistrate !

Roars of incredulous laughter from every voting precinct in Chicago.

The London policemen are not so fine in their physique as our Chicago guardians — who, by the way, are probably the finest appearing body of men in the world. But the London policeman, although rarely a giant, has some compensating traits. He can be found occasionally when he is wanted. He is always civil when applied to for information. He is not hampered by the interests of ward politics. In fine, his life is so arranged that he has some little time each day to devote to his business as a policeman. Upon the whole, I think he has an occasional point of superiority over the average policeman of the States.

"We will tally one on barbers, while Johnny Bull may take a

A GLANCE ABOUND. 15

mark on policemen. On hackmen, the score is certain to go against us. Nobody here, on reaching a depot, would mistake a hack driver for an Indian howling through some fantastic war dance. He never shakes a whip at you, or seizes upon your luggage, or yells in your ear, or floods your face with the fumes of a tobacco-laden breath. He doesn't stamp, spit, or swear or gesticulate. An American wouldn't know him without a letter of introduction. The hacks are drawn up in a line, and the drivers sit quietly upon their seats. An official inquires as to the kind of vehicle the passenger wishes, and then he is led to the foremost one in the line. He enters this and is driven away, the whole affair occupying but a moment, and not attended with any noise or altercation.

Of course, it is scarcely to be expected that the free-born sovereign who bosses a hack in our glorious land would ever consent to submit to any such slavish regulations. Still, if his free and soaring soul would consent to come down to the level of the British hackman, it would be an enormous comfort to the American traveler. This, however, is too much to ask. Let us wait, and meanwhile continue to suffer. We cannot consent to adopt the examples of the effete despotisms of the Old World.

It is a very common idea or belief on our side of the water that living is much cheaper in England than in America. Whatever may be the fact elsewhere, it is certain that London is far more expensive in this respect than either Chicago or New York.

The liotels here charge from five to ten dollars a day for accommodations which are in nowise comparable to those furnished by American hotels of equal pretensions. At a restaurant the cheapest kind of a dinner of two courses costs about a dollar. Several of these places advertise what they term two shilling six penny dinners, andwhichlooks on the face to be very reasonable — being only about sixty-five cents in American money. But when the customer comes to settle he finds a charge of fifteen cents for "attendance," and something else for other masters, which, with the gratuity to the waiter, will bring the cost of the whole to about one dollar.

A small bedroom costs about four dollars a week, and this only on the upper floors. On the lower floors the cost of a bedroom with a small sitting room is from twelve to twenty dollars a week. To this outlay must be added the cost of omnibuses or other form of travel, because nobody lives in the city proper.

Everybody does business in the city and lives in some one of the suburbs or additions.

Wherever one lives, whether in hotels or in lodgings, he never knows what his expenses are until he comes to settle. Extras seem to form no inconsiderable stock in trade of the thrifty Englishman. The soap is extra, the towels are extra, the light is extra, boots are extra, until in settling an account the extras become the bill, and the regular charges are a comparatively insignificant element in the transaction. It is pretty nearly safe to estimate that extras will nearly or quite double the original amount of the agreement.

In some respects clothing is somewhat cheaper than at home. A fair, substantial business suit can be had, made to order, for about twenty dollars in gold. Finer goods cost about the same, while gloves are scarcely more than half what they are in the States. Upon the whole, one can dress more cheaply here than at home, but in other respects the cost of living is from one-third to one-half more.

In some of the hotels in London they have introduced the elevator, known here as the " lift." If a person has all day to gofrom the top of a hotel to the bottom, or mce versa, the " lifts " are a good thing — otherwise not. Once in them, it requires a. good deal of nice calculation and close observation to know whether or not they are in motion; and if so, whether they are going up or down. When at the Charing Cross Hotel, I made one or two pilgrimages in the " lift," but had to give it up, lest during some one of the journeys peace would be declared in Turkey and the armies all disbanded before I should get up or down where I could hear of it. The individual who is the engineer on this particular " lift " is as deliberate and immovable as the machine. I said to him :

" This is a very slow ' lift.' Now I can tell you how you can get people up and down much faster."

He looked very much astonished, as if the idea of going anj,- faster were preposterous and absurd. Finally, after pondering over the matter a few moments, he said :

" Well, you can do it by anchoring the 'lift' and then raising and lowering the rest of the hotel."

He looked at me with a sort of dumb astonishment for a while, and then, failing to comprehend, he evidently put me down as a

IN EDINBURGH TOWN. 17

crazy "furriner," and wrapped himself in a contemptuous reserve.

Speaking of " furriners " reminds me that one morning on the steamer I asked the waiter, an unmistakable Briton, if the eggs were fresh. He said they were not. Why?

" Cos furrin heggs isn't to be depended on, you knaaw."

Further inquiry revealed the fact that the supply of " heggs " on board was of American origin. My patriotic instincts outraged by this indirect insult to the American flag, I queried :

" Look here ! Do you mean to insinuate that American hens can't lay fresh eggs? "

Just then he conveniently had a call to another part of the saloon ; but I am satisfied from his appearance as he left that he does believe the American hen utterly incapable of laying an egg less than from two to five weeks old.

So much for British prejudice against " furriners."

Letter III. Ik Edinburgh Town

London, July 14, 1877.

LTHOUGH this letter is dated London, it will mainly have reference to some features connected with a late, brief visit to Scotland. My correspondence * from Edinburgh was so much taken up with Pan-Presbyterianism that much else of interest was not made a matter of notice.

One of the very first things which will present itself to one who goes from England to Scotland, or vice versa, is the marked difference in the sociability of the people on both sides of the dividing line. I had an excellent and characteristic illustration of this difference in my journey between the English and Scotch capitals.

At King's Cross Station, London, I found an unoccupied compartment, of which I took possession. Just before the train started, a young Englishman made his entrance, escorted by the guard, and from some remarks he made to the other, I infer-

* Omitted.

SKETCHES BEYOKD THE SEA.

red that he was laboring under a high pressure of disgust at his inability to secure a compartment all to himself. He gave me a slight glance, and took the corner furthest from mine, and thenceforth he devoted himself to making himself supremely alone. He turned his back to me, glued his face to the opposite window, and steadily peered at nothing out in the darkness. His position was an exceedingly uncomfortable one ; and as he evidently took it in order to avoid the possibility of speaking, or being spoken to, I felt somewhat sorry for him, especially as I entertained no conversational designs whatever in reference to him.

We made occasional stops. "Whenever we began to "slow down" for a halt, he would apparently be seized by the dreadful apprehension that I might ask him what station it was, or how far it was to somewhere, or some other equally frightful interrogatory. To avoid such a dire calamity, he would drop the mm

A SOCIABLE BRITON.

glass, thrust himself far outside the car, exposing only a broad, substantial British base, supported by a pair of sturdy legs ; and would thus remain until the train, having gotten under full motion, the danger of a remark had passed away.

IN EDINBDEGH TOWN. 19

Just after daylight he left. Not a word had passed between us. He left with the supreme satisfaction of knowing that the beautiful chastity of English reserve had not been damaged by any illicit or any other kind of intercourse with a stranger. He was as happy as must have been some Sabine virgin who was overlooked in the fierce raid that bore away her shrinking and shrieking sisters.

A half hour later we crossed the Tweed and were in Scotland. At Brunswick, there entered my compartment a young, handsome, intelligent Scotsman, who was about the same age as my companion of the night. He said '' Gude mornin' " in a hearty, good-natured way ; and, five minutes later, we were conversing as glibly and as unaffectedly as if we had known each other for months. He knew all the proprietors by whose beautiful domains we were passing; he knew the name of every rock, ruined church, tower, castle, villa, and village ; and all these he gave me in response to my questions, or volunteered information when I could think of no questions to ask.

The difference between my two traveling acquaintances is exactly the difference between the English and Scotch character in respect of sociability, geniality, and a regard for the comfort of others. With but a single brief card of introduction to a resident of Edinburgh, I made more acquaintances during my stay there of a week than I probably will make in England in five years — were my banishment to extend over so long a period.

Coming from Edinburgh to London I was fortunate enough to have for my companion a large and wealthy manufacturer from Glasgow. A more genial gentleman I have rarely met. The very least that I could promise him when w^e parted was that I would find time to spend a week with him, at his country residence, in one of the most romantic portions of Scotland.

I do not flatter myself that the treatment I received was wholly from compliment to my nationality — although it is a fact that the Scotch are very favorably disposed toward America and Americans, while precisely the reverse seems to be the case in England. I heard but one thing cliarged against America in Scotland, and that is the character of our tariff laws. This is a grievance among the manufacturers, and one which they omit no opportunity of bringing to the front. So far as I could I applied balm to their wounds, by assuring them that the great party of the future, as it once was of the past, is the democratic party, every member of which is pledged to absolute free trade, and with a tendency even to pay a small premium to encourage the import of the better class of foreign goods. If I did not relieve them wholly, I at least left them hopeful for the future, and the success of the democratic party.

Speaking of American goods, there are evidences everywhere of American push, energy, and success that are highly gratifying. I see our reapers in every meadow and wheat-field wherever I go into the country. A Grand Rapids man came on the same steamer that I did, and although it has been less than four weeks since landing he has disposed of a very large number of forks, shovels, and the like, which he brought with him, and has taken orders for all he can supply for a long time to come.

" Oh, what lovely beef," said an American lady at the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh, one day at dinner. " Why can't we have such beef at home? And the mutton we get here — its just perfectly lovely! I've heard so often of Scotch mutton; but I had no idea that it is so superior! "

Hereupon, having previously posted myself, I proceeded to inform my fair compatriot that every pound of beef and mutton she had ever eaten in Edinburgh was American; and that Edinburgh is as much dependent upon America for its supply of beef as Chicago is upon Lake Michigan for its water.

Such is the fact. I am not in possession of statistics as to the trade in American meats, but 1 believe that Edinburgh alone consumes some many car-loads each week of American beef and mutton. A very large trade in canned American meats is carried on, not only in Great Britain but in every state in continental Europe. I cannot now go into this matter of American goods to any considerable extent. I will only saj^ that the American " drummer," or commercial traveler, is about as common here as he is in any part of the country surrounding Chicago.

I am not going to bore The Times with any guide-book description of Edinburgh. I did not have time to take in the town. I climbed up to the castle, of course, and from its lofty battlements took in one of the loveliest scenes ever spread out on the surface of this dull earth. I visited a dilapidated old court, in which Sir Walter Scott used to come of an afternoon to gossip and sip his whisky. I stood for a moment in front of John Knox's house — a quaint old structure, whose overhanging upper story