Letters from across the sea, 1907-1908

Foreword

This is not a guide-book. Hand-books of travel are useful in their place but uncommonly dull reading. These are not the letters of a man who saw a lot of things for the first time and forthwith conceived that he had discovered them and must needs reveal them to others. Of such books there are not a few — in point of fact too many save from the standpoint of the printer.

These are the letters of a cultured, far-travelled man to members of his own family, written with that intimacy which involves freedom and candor and with the intent of revealing to some extent his heart, mind, and soul to absent loved ones. They are also of interest because they form a viewpoint of one who in his time has played many parts in the development of his own country along the lines of greatest resistance. The captains of industry in this country are of two kinds : those who take a wholly objective view of life and those others who possess the introspective mind. To accomplish any great deed it is necessary to be gifted with imagination, but many possess it for mere material purposes. I think any one who reads these letters will note that the ^vriter has the power of critical analysis in an unusual

[vii degree; that he sees beneath the surface of things and has found richness in the Old World because he took riches of the mind with him.

Some men simply see stones and others find in them a sermon. Some find in the running brooks only possibilities of commercial development and others read there a book. In the last analysis, we get just as much out of life as we put into it. I think that these letters with all their charm of personal intimacy, their keenness of perception, and their largeness of view betray an unusual literary quality. This is because the writer thinks clearly. No other equipment is necessary. It is the beginning and ending of style. The reader will note here some new angles of perspective although they cover for the most part main-travelled roads. He will be interested not in the things themselves so much as in the point of view of the writer. It is the personal note that gives them charm and value, and human personality lies at the bottom of our interest in everything.

It is interesting to me that my old time friend who has spent so many years in the engineering problems of this country should have found time to keep in touch with those movements, those influences and institutions wliich make for the highest culture; that illumination and inspiration have followed him and possessed him so that he is enabled fully to enjoy a vacation — something few busy men in this world are able to do because they have crucified themselves upon the cross of materialism.

viii]

This seemingly unnecessary foreword is written

simply that one may begin this book with confidence,

knowing well that it will be finished with satisfaction.

Books of travel are apt to be slush. This is a book of

revelations.

Joseph M. Rogers.

Philadelphia, August 15, 1909.

AUTHOR'S PREPARATORY NOTE

It seems proper, and as a danger signal necessary, to say to the reader upon opening this book, and to avoid any mental shock that should overtake the careless one who might take it up by accident and find himself involved before becoming sufficiently hardened to stand the consequences, that this in no sense is a guide-book or a compilation of wise conclusions, nor is aught set down in mahce or envy. If any opinion runs counter to that of the reader it is requested that any possible rising of temperature be ignored until the perusal is ended.

To all critically inclined let me remark, do not waste time or energy in nursing the mood; if any personal enjoyment or refreshment is felt by the emotion, hug it to your heart but restrain all outbursts.

What may seem strange or untrue to-day may be orthodox or gospel to-morrow. " The world do move." Rembrandt stands the peer of all to-day while a few years ago he was a vagrant and unworthy. Miracles, plenary inspiration, and the divine paternity were essential articles of creed when we were boys ; now many consider them mere ghosts of decayed orthodoxy.

The only thing of real interest in these letters is the personal note, and the few friends who take time to read them will at least believe that they are sincere. The author's mind may be disordered and his perspective distorted, but he has written what he has written with complete candor and without wicked intent.

F. N. Finney.

Milwaukee, July 14, 1909.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

At the Base of the Collossi Thebes Frontispiece

vMahk Twain and the Author on Board A. T. Co.'s S. S. Minneapolis 3

■/ Home op Rudtard Kipling, Sussex, England 6

'Exterior of Bodiam Castle 10

^ Fountains Abbey 14

vRosLiN Chapel 16

" Landscape. By Jan Van der Meer, Gallery La Hague .... 27

Seeing Nuremberg 30

s Muhlbrunnen Colonnade, Carlsbad 33

v Waitresses at the Posthof, Carlsbad 36

« Chateau Mattoni 37

N Castle of Neuschwanstein 42

V Schloss Linderhof 44

"Theatre at Oberammergau, Bavaria 45

Christ and the Magdalen. By Gabriel Marx 46

^Amphitheatre at Brugg-Vindonissa 52

^ Gorge op the Aar 57

■ Bridge op St. Marie on the Electric Line Geneva to Chamonix 66

, C. C. Coleman in Villa Narcissus, Isola di Capri 107

4 Villa Quatre Ventre, Isola di Capri 110

The Picnic, Isola di Capri 113

"< The Maison-Carree, Nimes 214

\Le Pont-du-Gard near Nimes 216

Troubetzkoi's Tolstoi, Luxembourg, Paris 217

Amazone. By Louis Tuaillon 218

Chateau op Chantilly 241

[xiii

Atlantic Transport Line, S. S. Minneapolis

Thursday, June 13, 1907.

This is before breakfast. We are about 1458 miles from Sandy Hook. The ship did not sail from New York until 4 p.m. Saturday in place of 4 a.m. as advertised, owing to the fact that the strike of the longshoremen interfered with her loading, and even with this delay she left New York over 5000 tons short of what we should have taken.

We expect to land Monday and reach London Tuesday morning early. So far the trip has been ideal; no rough water to amount to anything, light showers at night and a wonderfully steady ship. The meals are good and a " fiver " judiciously disposed of brings a fresh pot of coffee and sundry other things, so that life is bearable even at sea. I have not felt the slightest discomfort so far.

We have several notables aboard, among whom are IMark Twain, and Richards, the cartoonist, and Rev. Dr. Patton, ex-president of Princeton University, 155 passengers in all, with no bums, poker players, or others of that ilk, and this makes steamboating on the briny quite respectable and agreeable.

Mark Twain is on his way to Oxford to receive a degree, and Kipling is also to be there at the same time for the same purpose. I have a card from Mrs. Kipling teUing me of this and asking me to visit them on the

18th and 19th, as they leave for the honorarium on the evening of the 19th. Our ship being a day late I shall only have the 19th to spend with them.

These cattle ships have advantages as well as disadvantages. The promenades are not as extensive; on the other hand, there are no second-class or steerage passengers and the much smaller number carried renders the noise and racket greatly less than on the big Hners. There is plenty of room at the tables and the service is vastly superior, and for one who likes the water and has no objection to the deadly monotony of the sea, it seems as if this would be the method of his journey; but I cannot get myself into such touch with this waste of water so as to approve of it at all. I look forward, however, with interest to the trip from the time we pass the Scilly Islands until we reach the mouth of the Thames, as we shall be in sight of the coast all the way, barring fog, and this will be a new experience, as I have never seen anything of the shores above Folkstone and Boulogne. I have a chart giving all the important points as we go up the Channel.

The horn toots and I go to my coffee.

This morning Richards made several caricatures to send back to New York, and is now at work on a masterpiece, showing Mark Twain (an excellent hkeness) walking on deck with the little French girl, followed by his " fidus Achates," Ashcroft, while all about are others, viz. : a deckhand scrubbing while he reads " Life on the Minneapolis," a tough customer in a barber's r^iX'Nr^nicriH

MARK TWAIN AND THE AUTHOR ON BOARD A. T. CO.'S S. S. MINNEAPOLIS chair reading " A Tramp Abroad," a miserable seasick old woman reading " Innocents Abroad," and two boys, one with " Tom Sawyer " and the other with " Huckleberry Finn." It is a very good thing.

This is our seventh day out and so far we have not had an unpleasant day, barring light showers and only some three hours of light fog. No more delightful weather could be asked for, but there is not enough variety to make it interesting.

Sunday Morning.

We had a concert last evening and developed an amazing amount of talent from our 155 passengers, two fair pianists, a young girl violinist who certainly wdll be famous, a bass and tenor who would do anywhere, two sopranos good enough for the opera, who, with Mark Twain and Dr. Patton as orators, made a very interesting evening lasting until nearly midnight.

This is another splendid morning, sunny and cooler. Nothing like it in all my experience. To-morrow morning we sight land and enter the English Channel. It is some twenty-four hours now from the Scilly Islands to Tilbury where we land. I shall mail this at once on reaching London Tuesday.

Monday Afternoon.

We have had another perfectly lovely day and I wiU wind this up so as to mail it early to-morrow morning. Our route up the Channel to-day has been so direct, after passing the Needles, that we have had only a distant view of the Isle of Wight and shall not enter the Straits of Dover until after dark. If we could have left New York twelve hours earlier we would have seen much more. Of course, we have been continually in sight of ships ever since daylight. We saw two battleships steaming out of Portsmouth, but they were too far away to see anything of their detail. We should reach Tilbury to-morrow at four a.m. and have breakfast at seven, leaving for London on a special train at eightthirty. It is a forty-five mile run to London. This has been an ideal trip such as I had not deemed possible on the Atlantic.

II Hotel Morley

London, June 22.

This is Saturday evening and I have just returned from dining at the famous " Cecil." The dining room was crowded with Americans in full dress and our women quite outshone the English fair sex. They are well in front of the EngUsh in figure, dress, and carriage, and I was proud of them.

The week's resume runs as follows : landed Tuesday morning about eight thirty, and after a glance at our belongings by the custom officers we boarded our train of first-class coaches, and after an hour's run up the valley of the Thames landed at St. Pancras Station and came to this old hostelry kept by the family of the James for over fifty years. It is very quaint as the result of frequent additions, making one run up and down stairs and through long narrow halls, and bewilderingly cut up. The people that I used to know are dead and gone and the two sons now operate the house, not so well, however, as the two old-maid sisters and the brother used to do. After washing up and unpacking my clothes I spent the afternoon at the National Gallery. The pictures are much the same as of old, with the addition of a splendid portrait of Gladstone by Millais, a picture one will never forget.

To wind up the day I took a ride on the omnibus up Piccadilly to Hyde Park and back; this is always interesting owing to the crowded condition of the streets.

Wednesday I went out to Burwash, some fifty miles, and spent the day with the Kiphngs. They Hve about five miles from the railway station. Their auto met me there and the chauffeur and I had quite a pleasant visit together as we ran over the lovely, high rolling country. This is the place Kipling bought, together with some one hundred acres of land. The house is a large, splendid country seat, dating back to 1634, with two sawmills dating back to the twelfth century. Kipling has put in water works and steam-heating and also an electric light plant. The grounds have extensive lawns, a swimming pool, and are picturesquely situated with high hills on all sides. I am enclosing a picture of the house that Mr. Kipling gave me. You cannot get much of an idea of the beauty of their home from this, as it is so large and quaint.

The house was the home of the landlord of the estate, who was a large mine owner. The valley was a great iron country in the olden times when the forests furnished charcoal for the furnaces, but these have long since been cut down and the furnaces destroyed. After lunch Kipling took me in his auto on a five-mile trip to see the Bodiam Castle, one of the great English strongholds, and the best preserved in England that is unoccupied. It is surrounded by a moat with twenty-two feet of water and it has three portcullises, two more than are generally found. It is a most interesting place and is kept in beautiful order by the present owner.

The great towers and walls are almost as perfect as ever. We spent nearly two hours here and then he ran me to a nearby station where I took train for return to London.

Thursday I went to the bank and found a lot of letters and then went to the " Wallace Collection," which is really the best worth seeing in the line of pictures of anything here. The collection cost Mr. Wallace four million pounds and the Government spent a very large sum for its maintenance and housing. I am going there again, as it is worth many visits.

That evening I went to hear Sir Charles Wyndham and Mary Moore in " The Liars." It was splendidly acted and the audience was handsomely dressed. English women go to the theatre in full dress, and are overly plump, from our American standpoint.

Friday took a seat on one of Cook's touring cars and visited old London, including the Tower, St. Paul's, the Guild Hall, National Museum, Hyde Park, Green Park, etc., etc., and wound up at Dickens's " Old Curiosity Shop," so they said, although one cannot imagine Little Nell and Grandpa both getting into the mite of a place at the same time. By the way, I do not recollect that Dickens claimed they did. I could barely turn around in it.

To-day I have been to the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. The ceiling of the Henry VII Chapel and the tablets of the Poets, with Longfellow's bust, and the general architectural eifects interested me the most.

This afternoon I spent in the Exhibition of Modem Painters at Burlington House. It is a great collection but deadly tiresome as a whole, with few exceptions, especially in the water colors.

I am going to bed early to-night and feel that I am about two inches shorter, owing to walking about and standing around looking at things. If this continues I shall buy an old-fashioned rack and stretch myself out at night so as not to present a dwarfed appearance on my return home.

Barring the shortness heretofore alluded to I find myself in prime condition and full of interest in all I am seeing. I think that by Wednesday next I shall leave here and go up through the Cathedral Towns, first to Cambridge, then Ely, Peterborough, Lincoln, York, Ripon, Fountains Abbey, Abbots ford, Roslin, and Dryburgh, and may possibly go to Edinburgh and Stirling. Autos cost so much ($40.00 a day) and the hedges are so high that one cannot see anything but the back of the chauffeur, so that I have decided to go by rail. What is the use of putting on airs behind one's driver? and then I am going to save up to ride in style in France. I'll manage to get in an auto ride somehow to brag about when I get home.

Sunday, June 23, 4:30 P.M.

I have just returned from Hampton Wick; found the Newmans, father, mother, Edith and her husband, and her two lovely little girls. She has married a fijie fellow, an American, a graduate of Yale, who is the

Westinghouse engineer representing that company in London. I was very much taken with him. The oldest little girl is a miniature copy of her mother and is a charming little two-year-old. Jean is in the United States with her husband but returns early in July. She has a home quite near Edith's. Her husband is also a Yale man and a chum of Mr. Baldwin's, and is in a lucrative position here as an engineer. Hampton Wick is a suburb of London and pleasantly situated on the right bank of the Thames, just above Putney. I lunched with them and had a very pleasant day.

Norton and John will be interested to know that all of the old men at Morley's are here yet and knew me at once when I came, and have been very attentive to all of my wants.

Ill

Unicorn Hotel BiPON, England, June 30.

Leaving London Thursday morning I came to Cambridge, took a carriage and visited all the University Colleges, saw the beautiful ivory copy of the Taj Mahal, which is a perfect reproduction of this famous tomb, on a scale of one-fourth of an inch to the foot. Trinity is the most extensive building and has splendid grounds, but King's Chapel is the crowning glory, with its splendid fan-vaulted ceiling and sixteenth-century windows. The Pepys Library was unfortunately closed, but I had seen it once before and therefore was not greatly disappointed. Later in the afternoon I went over to Ely and had time to look over the cathedral before dark ; and, by the way, it is daylight here up to nine o'clock at night and again at five a.m. The " Lamb '* is still excellent as of yore.

Friday morning I had another look at the cathedral and then went over to Peterborough and had some three hours there, then over to Lincoln for the night. What was one of the most charming of inns. The White Hart, has changed hands and is miserably kept, with the vilest coffee and service. I was glad to get away from there, although the minster is so interesting, also the old castle and fortifications. A great fair was going on and the streets were fairly reeking with decorations. On Wednesday the King had been there, and a railroad employee

lOJ told me that they had hauled 75,000 passengers into the place that day, and 25,000 was the smallest number carried on any day during the week. The town was jammed full of loyal subjects. Norton will appreciate what that means.

I was led into some reveries on the Britishers upon returning, to the effect that individually and at his best the Englishman is a fine fellow, honorable, right-minded, and chivalrous, but as a class they are brutal, coarse, egotistical braggarts and cowards. They to a man oppress the man under them and kotow to and abase themselves to the one above. They will do anything to make a shilling; they do all kinds of wickednesses and keep the Sabbath with a blare of trumpets and pharisaical bumptiousness and call upon all mankind to witness that they are the " great God-fearing people of the world," and that is just what they are. They are afraid of God and so they make great " miration " of their righteousness, but they are cowards, always excepting when they have overwhelming forces. The Pilgrims with their scant numbers and empty money chests whipped them in the Revolution; the Indians whipped them at Delhi; the Boers whipped them in Africa; and they were whipped at Waterloo when Bliicher wrested victory out of defeat for them. They talk through their noses and revile us for our "nasalities" ; they drop their "hatches" ; they call daily " dily " and papers " pipers." They talk worse English than Chaucer and have never yet admitted that America has enriched and kept pure the dialect that shall yet be the universal language. The average Yankee is pretty bad, but he is an angel with a golden harp and silver tones compared to the bloke who acts as verger in Peterborough Cathedral. He couldn't understand himself after his gutterals had cooled off.

Leaving Lincoln yesterday I went over to York expecting to spend the night, but a cool rain set in and after spending three hours there I came over here for Sunday. This little inn is a good specimen of the best of its class and is called The Unicorn. There is a fine cathedral here and this morning they had a special service for the Volunteer Soldiers of the country, who attended in uniform and had a fine band that played the airs for the hymns and after the service rendered one of Wagner's overtures under the great central dome. This afternoon they are giving an open-air concert in the park.

Norton and John will remember that when we were at Peterborough we could not see much of the minster as it was undergoing extensive repairs, and they will be interested to know that this work has all been done and the restoration has made a very complete and beautiful building.

The great amount of rain, although virtually spoiling the motor touring, has made the country very beautiful. From London to Peterborough the land is flat, but after that it is lofty and rolling and the landscape is peculiarly beautiful. The green hedges, the graceful oaks and willows, with the red-tiled-roofs of farm-houses with the villages give views that are hard to improve on in any country, and it is an ever lovely panorama that passes before you as you journey.

There is one virtue (not the only one by any means) that the Enghsh have, and that is love for their ancient buildings, and now that these are bringing them wealth from the Yankee pocket, they are paying more attention than ever to their restoration and preservation. Had *' Thomas " and " Oliver " been permitted to live a few years longer, England would have been terribly short on cathedrals and abbeys. The preservation of fossils I observe is another strong point with the English. A tablet in Ripon Cathedral states that it was placed there to honor the memory of (I forgot the name) who played the organ in that house for forty-two years and who died at the age of eighty-one. For one moment consider the music of this aged person ! The waiters at Morley's have been there over thirty years; the deans and archbishops hold over until death; and a man to win distinction must do it through good digestion and a muscular liver or not at all. Brains don't count against brawn.

Melrose, Scotland

Monday, July 1, 9:30 p.m.

This morning I drove over to Fountains Abbey and spent all the morning in this loveliest spot in England. It is even more beautiful than I remembered it. Anyone who visits England and fails to see it has missed more than words can begin to describe^ and yet I met several parties on my journey here that have always lived within a hundred miles of it, who confessed that they had never seen it. It is a most majestic and glorious ruin.

This afternoon I came over here, arriving at eight, and after dinner have been walking about in Melrose Abbey. It is small but most lovely, and I had an old Scotchman along who repeated the " Lay of the Last Minstrel " to me in a good Scotch accent, describing almost everything that is worth noticing as we came upon it. It was a rare treat, as he was in love with it and declaimed the lines in fine style.

To-morrow morning I shall visit Dryburgh Abbey and Abbotsford and then go to Edinburgh for the night.

IV Edinburgh, July 4

The guide book will tell you all about this city and it has been written of so generally that to spend time in description of it would be sure evidence of approaching senility. But there are one or two things at least that I have not read or heard of from other travellers ; these I may recount. Just up Princess Street, a short distance beyond the North British Railway Station, one comes to the old Calton Cemetery where lie the remains of the Scotch soldiers that fell in the civil wars ; in this, near the gate, stands a splendid statue of Abraham Lincoln erected by the American consul (his name I did not learn). It was touching to see fresh flowers placed by some loving hand at the foot of this statue to commemorate the day.

In driving about the city yesterday the guide pointed out to us the houses where Scott, Burns, and John Knox lived, but no mention was made of any moimment, memorial, or tribute to one of Scotland's greatest men, Thomas Carlyle. In the world of letters he has made an indelible mark; his "History of Frederick the Great " and " The French Revolution " are the most unique and graphic writings of his or any other century. The Scotch people show an indifference to his merits that is to their shame. A tardy recognition of literary ability is oftentimes very excusable, but to neglect such a world-wide recognized genius as that of Carlyle does not speak well for the canny Scot.

[IS

To-day we decided to celebrate the glorious Fourth by visiting Hawthornden and Roslin and so took a local train at 9: 30 a.m., in a pouring rain, hoping that as it had rained all the time nearly since we reached England, we might expect clearing weather even on the Fourth of July. Arriving at Hawthornden you leave the station and cross the track on the bridge and, turning to the left, follow the main road, which leads you to the lodge gate on the left where you enter the grounds of Lord Drummond, a lineal descendant of the poet Drummond, the friend of Shakespeare and Ben Jonson. The grounds are very extensive and perfectly cared for. We were taken in hand by an affable female who extracted a reluctant shilling from each of our party and then took us through subterranean passages containing rooms for the ashes of the departed. In one of these the heroic Bruce found a hiding place, but the lovely grounds, the noble trees, and the shrubbery were of the greatest interest. From here we walked down the narrow gorge of the Esk some three-quarters of an hour to Roslin. Shortly after leaving Hawthornden it began to rain and continued until we returned to Edinburgh. . . . If it had not been the Fourth I think we would have backed out, but the Yankee blood would never permit that on English soil and on the Fourth of July. The sight of the beautiful chapel repaid us for dampness and mud and cold. It is a jewel in stone, a tribute of the conscience to make even with heaven the evil of a worldly life; a work begun in hopes of mediation but

ROSLIN CHAPEL scarce half completed when he found it was too late and his accounting called before the debts were settled. He did compass at least the beginning and started the matter so that it went to a certain completion and it remains for all time a thing of exquisite beauty. The day, even with its drawbacks, was full of charm and delight, as our shoes were of mud and water.

Glasgow, July 6.

As I had never visited the much talked of " Trossachs " I concluded that as I was in Edinburgh I might as well " do " them, and thus be on a parity with those who were forever telling me that I had missed " the whole game " when I confessed that I had never done Scotland farther north than Edinburgh and Glasgow.

Leaving Edinburgh at 9 a.m. via the North British Railway, the first thing was, of course, the crossing of the great bridge over the Firth of Forth, the so-called eighth wonder of the world — it is easily the first. The two great spans of 1710 feet each, with the central towers of steel, made of cylinders 12 feet in diameter and 360 feet in height, carrying the projecting arms of the cantilevers, which reach out from the rocky island 675 feet on each side to the central spans, are of such magnitude that one is not able to grasp the thing except as he contemplates the figures of its details.