MR. PEASLEY AND HIS VIVID IMPRESSIONS OF FOREIGN PARTS
In Naples--and Mr. Peasley is still with us.
[Illustration: _Mr. Peasley is still with us_]
We waited for him in London until he recovered his lost trunk, and he
was so grateful that he decided to go along with us.
He said that he was foot-loose and without any definite plans and it
always made him feel more at home to travel with people who were just
as green and as much scared as he was.
A week ago we were in London--sloshing about in the damp and dismal
mixture of mud and snow which lined the dark thoroughfares.
This morning we are basking in the crystal sunlight of Naples--the blue
bay, with the crescent outline on one side, the white walls of the
mounting city on the other, Vesuvius looming in the distance behind a
hazy curtain, and tourists crowding the landscape in the immediate
foreground.
Three big steamers are lying at anchor within the breakwater--one from
Genoa, one from Marseilles, and one from New York--and all heavily
laden with Americans, some sixty of whom will be our fellow-passengers
to Alexandria. The hotels are overflowing with Yankee pilgrims, and
every Neapolitan who has imitation coral and celluloid tortoise shell
for sale is wearing an expectant smile.
The jack-rabbit horses attached to the ramshackle little victorias lean
wearily in their shafts, for these are busy days. The harvest days are
at hand. The Americans have come. An English woman who had seen the
horde in the streets here remarked to a friend this morning, "It must
be awfully lonesome in America just at present."
And she meant it, too.
It has been a fairly busy week for Mr. Peasley. Mr. Peasley is
addicted to the habit of taking notes. Every night at the hotel he
takes out a small leather-bound book presented to him by an insurance
company in America in appreciation of the fact that he has paid the
company all his ready money for the last fifteen years, and in this
small volume he jots down brief memoranda.
Mr. Peasley has a terse style. Sometimes he uses abbreviations. His
English is not of the most scholarly brand. As he is merely writing
for himself, it makes no difference.
The Peasley notebook, after twenty days in Europe, is full of meaty
information, and contains many a flashlight on life in the Old World.
By permission we are reproducing it herewith.
LONDON
"By Warrant.--Every man in London who sells anything, from a collar
button to a chariot-and-four, does so 'by appointment' or 'by warrant.'
Poor man opens shop--business bad. He is trying to sell shaving soap.
One day royal personage floats in and buys a cake for 6d., whatever
that means. Dealer puts out gold sign to the effect that he is
supplying the royalty with lather. Public breaks down showcases
getting at his merchandise. All true democrats theoretically ignore
this second-hand worship of royalty, but, just the same, take notice
that the shops with the rared-up unicorns in front and the testimonials
from their Royal Majesties are the ones that catch the humble American
tourist.
"Opera Hats.--Wandered into a hat store and discovered, to my
amazement, that the proprietor was the inventor of the opera, or
concertina, hat. Surprised--always supposed that at least a dozen men
had worked on it. Establishment had documents to prove that the first
folding hat had been manufactured on the very spot where I stood.
Proprietor has not yet been knighted--probably an oversight.
"Rubber Pavement.--The large covered court of the Savoy Hotel is paved
with blocks of soft rubber three feet square. Constant procession of
cabs in and out of court, and rubber deadens sound. Good idea--should
be used in all the streets of New York. New cab horse comes
along--never has tackled rubber pavement--is clattering noisily over
the asphalt--suddenly hits the soft rubber and begins to bounce up and
down like a tennis ball. Strange look comes into horse's eye and he
crouches like a rabbit, looks over his shoulder at the driver, and
seems to be asking, 'What am I up against?' Mean trick to play on a
green horse. Should be a warning sign displayed."
[Illustration: "_What am I up against?_"]
"Famine in Trousers.--One type of English chappy, too old for bread and
jam and not quite old enough for music halls, wears extraordinary
trousers--legs very narrow and reefed above tops of shoes (I mean
boots)--causes them to look thin and bird-like.
"English Drama.--Saw new problem play last evening--new play, but same
old bunch of trouble. Each principal character failed to marry the
person of the opposite sex with whom he or she was really in love.
Marriages did not interfere with love affairs, but helped to complicate
the plot. Discovered why we can never have a great native drama in the
States--we have no open fireplaces in which to destroy the
incriminating papers. Impossible to destroy papers at a steam radiator.
"L.C.C.--In musical comedies, pantomimes, and at music halls, many
sarcastic references to L.C.C., meaning London County Council. Council
is ploughing open new streets, tearing down old buildings, putting up
new buildings, and spending money like a sailor on a holiday. Their
extravagance has given great offence to the low comedians and other
heavy rate payers, while the very poor people, who are getting parks,
sunshine and shower baths free of charge, bless the L.C.C. The dress
coat crowd in the theatres seem to have it in for the L.C.C., but they
are very strong for Mr. Chamberlain, notwithstanding his recent defeat.
Mr. Chamberlain seems to be a great deal like Mr. Bryan--that is,
nearly everyone admires him, but not enough people vote for him. In
spite of protest from property holders, L.C.C. is going bravely ahead
with gigantic task of modernising and beautifying London. Asked an
Englishman why there was so much criticism of L.C.C. He said if you
touch a Britisher in the region of his pocketbook he lets out a holler
that can be heard in Labrador. Didn't use those words, but that's what
he meant.
"Snowstorm.--Last night a few snowflakes drifted into Piccadilly
Circus; hardly enough to cover the ground this morning, but everyone is
talking about the 'snowstorm.' London is away ahead of us on fogs, but
their snowstorms are very amateurish.
"Coals.--Buying my coal by the quart--forty cents a quart. If I fed
the fire the way I do at home would spend $100 a day. The official who
brings fuel to my room in a small tin measure insists upon calling it
'coals,' but I didn't think there was enough of it to justify use of
plural."
PARIS
"Coming Across.--The turbine boat from Dover to Calais ran like a
scared deer and rolled like an intoxicated duck. Held to rail all the
way across, looking fixedly at oscillating horizon and wondering why I
had left home--bleak, snowy landscape all the way from Calais to Paris.
After dinner went to music hall and learned that Paris could be fairly
warm, even in the dead of winter.
"Keeping Tab on the Cab.--The 'taximetre' cab is a great
institution--small clockwork arrangement alongside of seat, so that
passenger may sit and watch the indicator and know how his bill is
running up. The indicator is set at seventy-five centimes at the
start. In other words, you owe fifteen cents before you get away.
Then it clicks up ten centimes at a time, and when you reach your
destination there is no chance for an argument regarding the total.
What they need now in Paris is a mechanism to prevent the driver from
taking you by a roundabout way.
"Just for Fun.--Strange epidemic of killing in Paris. Two or three
murders every night, not for revenge or in furtherance of robbery, but
merely to gratify a morbid desire to take life. Among certain reckless
classes of toughs, or 'Hooligans,' it is said to be quite the fashion
for ambitious characters to go out at night and kill a few belated
pedestrians merely in a spirit of bravado and to build up a reputation
among their associates. Seems unfair to the pedestrians. At one of
the theatres where a '_revue_' or hodge-podge 'take-off' on topics of
current interest, was being presented, the new type of playful murderer
was represented as waiting at a corner and shooting up, one after
another, some twenty-five citizens who chanced to stray along. This
performance was almost as good as the Buffalo Bill show and gave much
delight to the audience.
"Costly Slumber.--From Paris to Marseilles is about as far as from
Chicago to Pittsburg. Sleeping car fare is about $10; total fare by
night train, about $30. Two cents a pound for all baggage in excess of
a measly fifty-six pounds. No wonder people travel by day in the
refrigerator cars and try to keep warm by crawling under hundreds of
pounds of 'hand luggage.' Anything with a handle to it is 'hand
luggage.' Some of the cowhide bags must have used up two or three cows.
"Tea Habit. The tea habit has struck Paris. At Grand Hotel and many
cafes general round-up about five in the afternoon, everyone gulping
tea and eating cakes. Not as demoralising as the absinthe habit, but
more insidious.
"American Music.--After a 'coon' song has earned a pension in the
United States it comes over to Paris and is grabbed up as a startling
novelty. All the '_revues_' studded with songs popular at home about
two years ago--Frenchmen believe that all Americans devote themselves,
day in and day out, to accumulating vast wealth and singing coon songs.
"Oysters.--Went to famous fish and oyster restaurant for dinner. The
Gallic oyster wears a deep blush of shame and tastes like the day after
taking calomel. Thought horseradish might improve, modify or
altogether kill the taste, so I tried to order some. Knew that 'horse'
was 'cheveau' and 'red' was 'rouge,' but could not think of the French
for 'ish,' so I had to do without. Somewhat discouraged about my
French. Almost as bad as former American Consul, who, after eight
years in Paris, had to send for an interpreter to find out what 'oui'
meant. Have got 'merci' down pat, but still pronounce it 'mercy.'"
MARSEILLES
"More Snow.--The further south we go the colder the weather and the
deeper the snow. Getting my furs ready for Cairo. Ten hours on the
train from Paris to Marseilles, wrapped in a blanket and counting the
warts on a foreign commercial traveller who sat opposite. No two
counts agreed. Had looked forward during a long month to this ride
through sunny France. Had dreamed of green landscapes that lay smiling
in the genial warmth, the stately poplars leading away to purple hills,
and the happy labourers looking up from their toil in the fields to
smile at us and bid us welcome as we flashed by. Not a bit like it.
More on the order of North Dakota. Everybody says it is the coldest
snap that Southern France has known in many years. They saved up all
their cold weather so as to hand it to me when I came along.
"Bouillabaisse (spelling not guaranteed).--There is only one thing to
do in Marseilles, and that is to drive out to an excellent restaurant
built on a rock overlooking the bay and partake of bouillabaisse. Dish
famed in song and story. Mentioned, often in 'Trilby.' Possibly that
is what ailed Svengali. The bouillabaisse and the 'Marseillaise' were
both invented in Marseilles. The mayonnaise comes from elsewhere. The
bouillabaisse is a combination of soup, ragout, chowder, and New
England boiled dinner. There are many ingredients. It is said they
put in whatever they have the most of--sea bass, lobsters, crayfish,
vegetables, sauces--everything except the license. Liked the taste
very much--first when I ate it, and then all during the afternoon and
evening.
"Chateau d'If.--Coming out of the harbour we ran very close to the
Chateau d'If, a stern fortress prison topping a huge rock rising
sharply from the bay. Count of Monte Cristo was imprisoned here. Man
on board said that the character of Edmund Dantes was wholly
fictitious, manufactured by Dumas. Must be a mistake, as I saw the
small rock on which James O'Neill used to stand at the end of the first
act and exclaim, 'The world is mine!' It is exactly as represented on
the stage, except for the calcium light."
NAPLES
"The Ship's Barber.--Coming across from Marseilles in the _dampfer_
(Germ. for boat) the weather moderated so that I needed only one
overcoat. Got acquainted with barber. Often have some trouble in
making up with a captain, but can usually hit it off with the barber.
A good barber is a bureau of information, headquarters for scandal, and
knows what the run is going to be. The barber on our _dampfer_ no
good. Shy on conversation, but great on arithmetic. Charged me two
francs for a shave, and when I suggested that he was rather high he
said he was compelled to ask one franc and thirty centimes for the
extract of vanilla he had put on my hair. Told him I did not want any
extract of vanilla, but he said there was no way of getting it back
into the bottle. Besides, he had the money, so we compromised by
permitting him to keep it. Said he longed to go to America. I told
him there would probably be an opening in America for anyone so
energetic and muscular, and I promised to give him a letter to Armour &
Co., of Chicago."
[Illustration: _Promised him a letter to Armour & Co., Chicago_]
"Free Fireworks.--A full hundred miles out at sea we could make out an
irregular oval of fire suspended in the sky--the two streams of lava
now trickling down Vesuvius. Finest landmark and sailing target a
sailor could ask for. When we were forty miles away we wanted the
captain to slow up for fear he would run into the mountain and injure
it. Next morning in harbour we discovered that we were still ten miles
away from it.
"The New Naples.--In ten years Naples has done a lot of sprucing up.
Streets are cleaner, new and pretentious buildings have multiplied,
smells have been eliminated. Guides, beggars and cabmen not so
pestiferous as of yore, but still bad enough to deserve electrocution,
provided some more lingering form of death could not be substituted.
Cabmen seemed downcast. Municipality recently forbade any extra charge
for cab service on a _fiesta_, or holiday. In Italy 300 days out of
every 365 can be rung in under the head of _fiestas_. Every American
who landed in Naples found himself right in the midst of a _fiesta_ and
had to pay two fares, or as much as thirty cents in gold, to ride
around in one of the open hacks. Thirty cents would seem a reasonable
charge, but not after you have seen the hack. The smaller the horse in
Naples the heavier the harness. Evidently a desire to have about the
same total weight in each case.
"Emigrants.--Alongside of our ship lay a German steamer about to sail
for America. The tender made trips to and from the dock, and every
time she came out she was filled to the last inch with Italian
emigrants. We saw hundreds of them disappear into the ship, so many it
seemed they must have been packed in below by hydraulic pressure,
otherwise there wouldn't have been room for them. All headed for the
land of the free to build railroads. Englishman wanted to know why
there was such heavy emigrant traffic at this particular season. Told
him they were hurrying over to vote at the April election in Chicago.
He believed it. Come to think of it, I believe it myself."
This is Mr. Peasley's notebook up to the present moment, just as we are
departing for Alexandria. He admits that he may have overlooked a few
minor points of interest, but he more than made up by neglecting to
mention Napoleon's tomb or the Moulin Rouge.
Since arriving in Naples this morning Mr. Peasley has arranged with the
tourist agency to change his ticket, and he will accompany us to Egypt.
IN CAIRO