_ANNOUNCEMENTS._
ESTABLISHED 1850.
INMAN LINE.
UNITED STATES AND ROYAL MAIL STEAMERS
CITY OF PARIS, 10,500 Tons.
CITY OF NEW YORK, 10,500 “
CITY OF BERLIN, 5,491 Tons.
CITY OF CHICAGO, 6,000 “
CITY OF CHESTER, 4,770 Tons.
[Illustration]
New York, Queenstown AND Liverpool.
FIRST CABIN PASSAGE from $60 to $650,
ACCORDING TO STEAMER AND LOCATION OF ACCOMMODATIONS.
NOTE.--Round Trip Tickets issued at reduced rates, and the return
portion can, if desired, be used by =RED STAR LINE= from Antwerp to
New York or Philadelphia.
INTERNATIONAL NAVIGATION CO.,
General Agents,
6 BOWLING GREEN, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
SIMPSON’S
(LIMITED)
DIVAN TAVERN,
103 STRAND,
Opposite Exeter Hall,--LONDON.
[Illustration]
The premier Restaurant in the Strand, established upwards of fifty
years, which still retains its supremacy for being the house to get the
best English Dinner in London at a moderate price. There is also a
magnificent Ladies’ Dining Room where ladies can dine in the same style
and cost as gentlemen do in the room down stairs. Private rooms for
large or small parties.
Noted for Soups, Fish, Entrees and Joints. Saddles of Mutton specially
cooked to perfection from 12.30 to 8.30 p.m. Originator of professed
Carvers to attend on each customer at separate tables. Matured wines and
spirits. The largest stock of any tavern in the kingdom.
E. W. CATHIE, MANAGING DIRECTOR.
* * * * *
LONDON & NORTH WESTERN RAILWAY
THE OLD ROUTE IN THE OLD COUNTRY. THE TOURISTS’ FAVORITE.
IRISH AND SCOTCH ROYAL MAIL ROUTE.
SHORTEST AND QUICKEST FROM
=LIVERPOOL= (Lime Street Station) to =LONDON= (Euston Station). under
FOUR AND A-HALF HOURS =to GLASGOW= (Central Station), in FIVE AND
THREE-QUARTER HOURS.
=QUEENSTOWN to LONDON via Dublin and Holyhead=, in SIXTEEN HOURS AND
TEN MINUTES.
* * * * *
=Baggage Checked Through from New York to London.=
=At LIVERPOOL, Family Omnibuses= from Landing Stage, and =Special Trains=
from Alexandra Dock to Lime Street Station and Hotel.
=NORTH WESTERN HOTEL, Lime Street Station, Liverpool=, the best and
largest--the hotel for Americans.
=SPECIAL TRAINS from Liverpool to London= when requisite to make close
connection with steamers arriving from America.
=Elegant Vestibule Drawing-Room Cars without extra charge.= Compartments
with lavatories, and private saloon and family carriages for parties
without extra charge.
=Sleeping Cars= with Compartments and brass Beds, 5s. per berth in
addition to first-class fares.
=DINING CARS= on principal trains and “American Specials.”
=Luncheon Baskets= at the principal Stations.
=In LONDON, Family Omnibuses= can be obtained, at the =Euston Hotel= (at the
Station), noted for its =Cellar= and its French =Cuisine=, will be found
most comfortable.
=THE LONDON AND NORTH WESTERN RAILWAY= has =NOT= abolished Second Class
Carriages; passengers to whom economy is an object, but who do not wish
to travel Third Class, can combine comfort with economy by traveling
Second Class by this line. First and Second Class on all trains. Third
Class Carriages on all trains except the =Irish Mails= to and from Dublin.
The Company’s Agents, =Mr. W. STIRLING, at Queenstown=, and =Mr. FRED. W.
THOMPSON, at Liverpool=, meet the American Steamers on arrival, and
secure omnibuses, seats, saloon carriages, rooms at hotel, and give
general information.
=THROUGH TICKETS to London, Glasgow, Paris=, and principal stations in
=England=, =Scotland=, =Ireland=, =Wales=, and Continent of Europe.
=TICKETS=, Time Tables and information as to travel and hotels can be
obtained from the Company’s Agent, =Mr. D. BATTERSBY, 184 St. James St.,
Montreal=, and
=Mr. C. A. BARATTONI=, Gen’l Agent for the U. S. and Canada, =852 Broadway=,
near Union Square, =New York=.
* * * * *
=G. P. NEELE=,
Superintendent of the Line.
=London=, Euston Station.
=E. MICHEL=,
Foreign Traffic Superintendent.
G. FINDLAY, Gen’l Manager.
* * * * *
HOTEL WINDSOR,
VICTORIA STREET,
Westminster, LONDON, S.W.
[Illustration:
Hotel
Windsor
VICTORIA STREET,
WESTMINSTER, S.W.
_J. R. Cleave & C^o.
Proprietors._
]
Convenient and central location; European or American system; the only
hotel in London with Turkish and other baths; elevators; electrically
lighted throughout, day and night.
J. R. CLEAVE & CO., PROPRIETORS.
[Illustration: _Morris Phillips_]
ABROAD AND AT HOME
PRACTICAL HINTS FOR TOURISTS
BY
MORRIS PHILLIPS
EDITOR OF
THE HOME JOURNAL
NEW YORK
NEW YORK
BRENTANO’S
PARIS WASHINGTON CHICAGO LONDON
COPYRIGHT 1891,
BY
MORRIS PHILLIPS
THE ART PRESS,
DEMPSEY & CARROLL,
36 EAST 14TH STREET,
NEW YORK.
TO THE MEMORY OF
GEORGE W. HOWS,
MY FAITHFUL FELLOW-WORKER AND DEAR FRIEND OF
MANY YEARS, THIS VOLUME OF SKETCHES IS
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
“_Travel is the great
source of true wisdom._”
--BEACONSFIELD.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface, by the Hon. A. OAKEY HALL, 5
GREAT BRITAIN.
London on Wheels, 9
London Hotels, 24
A Few Boarding Houses, 47
Where to Lunch in London, and Where Not to Lunch, 49
Railway Travelling in England, 59
An Hour with Spurgeon, 67
The Crypt of St. Paul’s, 71
The Queen’s Mews, 74
A Question of Hats, 77
London Oddities, 79
Poverty and Charity in England, 85
Where is Charing Cross? 88
Margate, 89
Two Brighton Hotels, 97
A Visit to Bleak House, 100
Takin’ Notes in Edinboro’ Town, 105
The Burns Monument, 112
Rt. Rev. the Moderator, James MacGregor, D.D., 116
Crossing the Channel, 123
PARIS.
Paris Hotels, 124
Pensions of the First Class, 134
The Restaurants of Paris, 137
The Anglo-American Banking Co., 146
Au Bon Marché, 147
THE UNITED STATES.
GEORGIA--
The De Soto, Savannah, 149
Thomasville, 155
A New Southern Resort, 165
FLORIDA--
A Cuban City (Key West), 171
St. Augustine, 180
About Tampa, 185
CALIFORNIA--
Monterey, 190
San Diego and Coronado, 199
Santa Cruz, 213
Redondo Beach, 221
Pasadena, 225
Los Angeles, 231
The California Hotel, San Francisco, 235
Salt Lake City, 239
The Auditorium Hotel, Chicago, 243
Max O’Rell on American Hotels, 249
PREFACE.
A continuous residence in London of eight years has satisfied me that
precisely such a book, so far as it relates to that city, which my
friend and once junior legal associate now presents is popularly needed.
That in such respect it will be vitally interesting, even to readers who
have never been tourists thither, “goes without saying.” Moreover, there
are in these pages views, comments and sights of the “abroad” and “at
home” additionally valuable; therefore I gladly accept his invitation to
prepare a short preface to this volume of an American M. P. in the
Parliament of Letters.
He first broached his idea of papers about London at a capital luncheon,
when meeting together there we discussed with palates, forks and wine
glasses a tempting _menu_ during the summer of 1890, as guests of Host
Vogel, of the new Albermarle Hotel in Piccadilly, at the top of the
historic St. James’s street.
We then and there drank success to the M. P. idea, and I doubt not, that
every reader of this volume will be disposed to heartily duplicate that
toast at his first dinner which shall follow its perusal.
When a tourist first arrives in London, beneath the inviting shadow of
the Northwestern Railway station hotel, that is flanked by two smaller
inns and its centre pierced by several taverns, or direct from
Southampton at the Waterloo station, within rifle shot of which a score
of hotels invite his luggage and his wearied frame, that tourist’s
earliest question will be, which hospitable _caravanserai_ shall I
patronize?
His second question will concern his vehicular desires for
transportation by cab, ’bus or railway. Other queries will suggest
themselves regarding the “How,” the “Where,” the “Which” and the “Why”
of his new London surroundings.
With this volume on shipboard _en route_: or in railway carriage _in
transitu_, the tourist will already possess answers in his mind to those
queries or similar ones respecting Edinburgh or Glasgow; and will not be
at the mercy of chance or of confusing porters, or of contestant
“cabbies,” or of the shady sharpers who throng railway platforms.
Once well housed in any of the places herein mentioned, and once
understanding, by the aid of the ensuing pages, how to get about in the
vast metropolis--wherein one may ride sixteen miles from extreme north
to a suburban south, and fourteen miles from west to east without
quitting paved and lighted streets, or the continuity of habitations--a
traveler’s eyes and ears will be all the Mentors he will require.
Of so-called guide books (of which class this is not), there are in
London and elsewhere abroad confusing scores, but the average tourist
ought to shun guide-books as he would a Bradshaw, unless he loves
charades, puzzles and conundrums.
Every mother knows that when her infant obtains his footing, the child
will walk confidently. This volume serves to give the person who
arrives in London or Edinburgh and kindred cities an instant footing. In
the parlance of the race course, it is the “starter.”
On arrival, the first thing to do is to demand and learn the points of
compass; because all enquiries about the “Where” in London hinge on
those.
The papers by M. P. about cabs and omnibuses will be found as valuable
as they are piquant. He tells of certain trips (and tips) on top of a
’bus; he vividly describes how the best way for exploring London is to
ride in its every direction on the tops of omnibuses--devoting days to
the task, or rather pleasure--and when, as street after street is
passed, reading their names, which are always sign-affixed to the
turn--a convenience even for residents which, in late years, is
strangely unknown in New York City. Thereby locality and prominent
buildings and often-referred-to neighborhoods become fixed in an
observer’s mind for future uses of memory.
I learned to know London “like a book”--as common phrase goes: and, I
therefore fully appreciate how much this book will serve to teach new
tourists how to begin to learn London; how much it will revive pleasant
memories in former tourists; how greatly it will instruct intending
tourists; how pleasantly it will amuse those who may not expect to
practically patronize the hotels; how well it will instruct as to
London’s vehicles and the wonders of the English city, which is
practically seventeen centuries older than New York.
But there are other sides and hues to this prismatic volume. Not
only is it inviting to Americans who wish to know about the
“across-the-ocean-ferry,” but it will be attractive to the countrymen of
the M. P. who may travel or who would like to travel Westward, “where
the star of Empire takes its way.” And also to the foreign tourist who
may for only one week reside, _in transitu_ to the States, upon the
floating greyhoundish hotels which we call steamships.
Marvelous as London is to the American tourist, the wonders, the hotels,
the coasts, and the traveling--especially toward the Pacific ocean--are
equally marvelous to English M. P.’s and foreign ladies and gentlemen of
fortune or leisure who seek transcontinental scenes and comforts.
Merely “turning the leaves,” a phrase happily used as a heading for book
notices by the author of “Kissing the Rod” in his _World_ newspaper of
London, will at once show any buyer of this volume what I have implied.
A. OAKEY HALL.
LOTOS CLUB, January 21, 1892.
LONDON ON WHEELS.
ABOVE GROUND, ON THE GROUND, AND UNDER GROUND.
THE UNDER-GROUND LINES.
How the five millions of people in London “get about” to their daily
avocations and homes is a mystery to those who have not made the subject
a study. So I have gathered some information which will throw a little
light on it.
Let me start out with the statement that besides the ten large terminal
stations, like the Euston Square and the Midland, both in Euston Road,
there are four hundred and thirty railway stations within the
metropolis, and the under-ground lines alone carry annually one hundred
and twenty-five millions of passengers. The underground roads have been
in existence for more than a quarter of a century, and are found to
answer the purpose admirably of relieving the over-ground traffic. They
are convenient, cheap and comparatively quick; but decidedly unpleasant,
if not positively unhealthy.
They now form a network of rails under the surface, and they have been a
success from the first. They are a great engineering triumph, and may be
said to have marked a new epoch in the history of London. The act
permitting the tunneling was passed in 1853. Mr. John Fowler conducted
the herculean labor, and underneath the streets of the busiest of
cities, down where the soil was honeycombed with other works--gas pipes,
water mains, drains and sewers--a railway line, costing upwards of one
hundred and fifty thousand pounds per mile, was constructed almost
without the knowledge of those above. For three years--from the spring
of 1860 to the beginning of 1863--two thousand men, two hundred horses
and fifty-eight engines were employed. When completed another difficulty
presented itself, but was overcome by Mr. Fowler, who invented a
locomotive which could be worked in the open air like an ordinary
engine, but which, while in the tunnel, emits neither steam nor smoke,
being so constructed as to be able to condense the one and consume the
other.
And yet, after a long ride in the under-ground, you always emerge with a
headache.
Of course the cars have to be lighted artificially, and they had not
learned to use the electric light in them when I last was in London in
October, 1891. Gas is a poor substitute in such a place. You are forced
to read your newspaper in a dim light, and the gas consumes much of the
oxygen which gets into the tunnel from the stations, and from openings
en route, which are made for the purpose.
Yet you do not get about as quickly in the underground as you would
imagine. To avoid obstructions, and for mechanical reasons, the road
takes a circuitous route and you frequently must ride a long way around
to go a comparatively short distance.
Millions of Londoners, who go direct from home to business, seldom get
into an under-ground train. There are many over-ground lines built on
brick arches which go to the suburbs, where rents are low; for every
Englishman must have his own house, no matter how small, which he
regards as his “castle.” These trains are quick and cheap, and you are
blessed with ample light and good air--at least as good as you can get
in foggy, smoky London.
On all roads, whether on trunk lines, on local, overground or
underground lines, there are first, second and third-class cars, or
“carriages,” as they call them. Even some omnibuses that ply from the
trunk line stations also have compartments for different classes; your
Englishman is very particular with whom he rides.
Occasionally you meet with unpleasant companions in third-class
carriages of local or suburban lines, but on through trains, say between
Liverpool and London, the third-class carriages are comfortable, and the
travelers of a respectable class.
There is a great difference in the rates, and on a long journey it is
worth consideration. First-class fare is almost double that of
third-class. Second-class is neither one thing nor the other, and on
some lines it has been abolished.
It is an old saying that only princes, Americans and fools travel
first-class. I don’t care under which head they place me, so long as
they place me in a first-class “carriage.” That it is more comfortable
is incontrovertible, if you’ll pardon such a big word. I say this in the
face of what John Stuart Mill said, that the only reason he rode
third-class was because there was no fourth.
ELECTRIC LINES UNDER GROUND.
The _Forum_ last summer printed a very good description from the pen of
Simon Sterne, of the new electric under-ground railway in London, and
the Sunday _Sun_ last autumn had an elaborate article on the subject,
which, with illustrations, occupied nearly a whole page.
It is a quick and convenient means of locomotion, and to accomplish it
was a work of wonderful engineering skill for which the inventor, Mr.
Peter Greathead, cannot be praised too highly; but the riding is by no
means pleasant.
In a lift large enough to accommodate fifty passengers, you descend a
distance of eighty feet below the surface--part of the road running
beneath the bed of the river Thames. The cars are small and fairly well
lighted, but they have an unpleasant vibration, and although the air is
not noticeably impure, there is an uncanny feeling with the knowledge
that you are burrowing, as it were, in the bowels of the earth.
The road, probably an experimental one, is only three miles long,
extending south from “the monument” in the city. It has not, thus far,
proved a success pecuniarily, the cost of construction being so great,
although no land was purchased except for the stations.
HANSOMS AND FOUR-WHEELERS.
Street cars are not needed in the city. Nearly all London streets are in
as good condition for driving as our Central Park roads. There are eight
thousand hansoms, four thousand four-wheelers, and two thousand
omnibuses, so that you are not obliged to walk on account of the absence
of cars. The four-wheeled cabs, or “growlers,” as they term them, are
dilapidated, uncomfortable vehicles, which lack new springs, and are
dirty both inside and out. The horses and the drivers are old and
superannuated; they have all seen better days in private carriages or
hansom cabs. You never take a four-wheeler if you are alone, or if the
party consists of only two persons. You must engage one if you have a
trunk, but if you are going to catch a train or boat you had better
allow a half hour’s margin.
The London cab service is the best and cheapest in the world. I say
this, notwithstanding that I remember hiring a cab in Key West, in the
Gulf of Mexico, for a dime. But such cabs and such horses! The rate in
a hansom is sixpence per mile for one or two persons, no fare less than
one shilling (twenty-five cents); by the hour, two-and-six (sixty-two
cents).
HOW THEY DRIVE.
England is the only place I know of where they drive to the left.
English drivers say that by sitting on the right and driving to the
left, they can better watch the hubs of approaching wheels, and thus
prevent collisions. A cabbie’s attention is given entirely to the
roadway; pedestrians must look out for themselves or be run over. That
is why so many of the London police are engaged solely in attending to
street traffic. Yet with all their vigilance, more accidents occur in
London, proportionately, than elsewhere. London drivers are polite and
very civil to each other. If an obstruction appears in front of a horse,
or if for any reason he is obliged suddenly to slow up, the driver will
immediately notify the driver in the rear by holding out horizontally
his left arm; and this sign is passed down from one driver to another,
until the very end of the line of blocked vehicles is reached.
People who have not visited London for several years, will find cabs
greatly improved. There is a new, patent hansom. In these you are saved
the trouble of opening and closing the doors; this is done by the driver
by touching a lever on the top of the vehicle. The new style of cab has
thick rubber tires, which add considerably to ease and comfort in
riding. So little noise does the vehicle make in going over London’s
smooth-paved streets, that these cabs are provided with bells to warn
pedestrians of their approach. The interior fittings include a holder
for lighted cigars, a box of matches, a small, bevelled mirror on
either side of the cab, and a swinging rubber bulb attached to a rubber
tube with a whistle at the end. You lightly press the bulb, and in this
way whistle to Cabbie on top, who hears the summons above the roar of
the streets, and responds by opening his trap door in the roof to
receive instructions.
The law does not permit the drivers of these well-appointed and rather
luxurious vehicles to charge more than do the drivers of the ordinary
cabs; but as the new hansoms cost the drivers more to hire, and as they
are so much superior to the old style, you do not begrudge paying a
trifle extra. The drivers pay for these improved hansoms sixteen
shillings (four dollars) per day, except during “the season,” when the
owners exact a guinea per day, about five dollars.
The speed with which the London cabs are driven is something
alarming--alarming to a stranger. In New York a cab driver has some
little regard for the lives and limbs of pedestrians; in Paris the
horses are so poor and skeleton-like, and go so slow, that pedestrians
have no fear whatever; but in London you must look out wholly for
yourself; Cabbie will certainly not look out for you. If he is engaged
by the course, he only has his destination in mind. London cab horses
are the best horses in the world used for such a purpose. With rubber
tires to the wheels, and the wheels going over clean and perfectly
smooth roadways, there is nothing to obstruct their speed, and the
animals go like the wind. They and their drivers seem to stand in fear
of nothing but a policeman, and as London has good laws for regulating
vehicles, and as these laws are strictly obeyed, the mere warning look
of a policeman is respected and obeyed.
London drivers are not so brutal nor so ill-tempered as New York
drivers. They do not, as a rule, curse or swear at each other as ours
do, who are always ready with a foul oath. If a “block” occurs they
take it good-naturedly and get out of it with the aid of the police as
quickly as possible. Our drivers are only satisfied when they can take a
mean advantage of their fellows, get in their way and put them to
inconvenience. It may be Yankee “goaheadativeness,” or the spirit of
freedom and independence which prompts this show of ill-temper, but for
my part I prefer the laughing, jocular, good-tempered London driver.
On my last visit to London, where I stayed one month, I saw a great many
“blocks,” but heard only one quarrel between drivers, and that was not
at all serious. They will, however, chaff each other, saying something
like this:--“Oh, come, pull yourself together there;” or “I say,
country, why don’t you learn to drive before you come up to London?” The
term “up to London,” by the way, is put to singular use there. Although
London is in the south of England, you always go “up to London,” if you
even go from Carlisle, which is in the extreme north, on the Scotch
border.
STREET CARS.
There are no street cars run by the trolley, storage or any other
electric system; no cable cars, no horse cars; not a track is laid for a
surface road in “the city” proper. Many Americans leave London without
ever seeing a street car of any kind, and yet in the metropolis one
thousand street cars run daily over one hundred and twenty miles of
track, but they are not permitted in crowded thoroughfares; they are
confined to the outlying districts. I have only seen them in the east
end, in the district known as “The Boro’” and near the Victoria Station.
The street cars are “double deckers,” and, like the ’buses, they carry
more outside than inside passengers, but the number of passengers is
limited. When the car has reached its limit it will take up no more
passengers. Every passenger has the right to a seat, and, to use a
paradoxical phrase, every Englishman stands up for his right to a seat.
OMNIBUSES.
The two thousand omnibuses keep employed eight or nine thousand horses.
The number of miles run annually by the omnibuses is five and a half
millions, and the number of passengers carried not less than forty-eight
millions.
Such a heavy, slow-going, cumbersome vehicle as the London omnibus could
not be used on our rough-and-tumble roads. It is poorly ventilated, if
you can call it ventilated, for the windows are closed and are
immovable. The only means of ventilation is by the door, in the rear,
near which everybody tries to get. As fast as the choice seats near the
door are vacated, they are occupied by the less fortunate passengers,
and the last comer is always obliged to take the worst place, which is
nearest the front. But in fine weather a man never gets inside while
there is a vacant seat on top, and it is no strange sight to see women
occupying outside seats to escape the stifling air inside.
Nor does wet weather deter an Englishman from taking an open air seat.
Most Englishmen wear a “mackintosh” in threatening weather and there’s a
great deal of such weather in London. To every seat on the top of a ’bus
there is attached a woolen-lined leather apron to protect the knees, and
with an umbrella, which is always part of an Englishman’s costume, they
manage to keep perfectly dry.
The omnibuses are so freely used for advertising purposes, the outside
is so nearly covered with attractive and gaudy signs of business houses
that it is exceedingly difficult to read or discover the route or
destination of the vehicle. You may be looking for Blackwall or Putney,
but you will read “Hyams’ thirteen-shilling trousers “or “Day & Martin’s
blacking is the best.”
The ’buses do not confine themselves to the middle of the roadway and
allow passengers to pick and fight their way through a crowd of
vehicles, New York-like; they pull up to the curb to allow passengers to
enter or leave without the least possibility of danger or trouble.
Conductors will also leave their perch, approach the sidewalk (Anglice,
pavement) to consult or advise with a prospective passenger who is in
doubt as to which ’bus he should take. Time seems of no importance: they
are not in such a rush or whirl of excitement as we are. Whether from
the excessive competition or from some other cause I know not: I do know
that public servants in England are much more civil and polite than they
are in this “free” country.
There are rules which control London omnibuses, and these it is the duty
of the police to strictly enforce. A ’bus is licensed and allowed to
carry only so many passengers, and this license or limit must be posted
on a conspicuous part of the vehicle. The majority are “licensed to
carry twenty-six passengers; twelve inside and fourteen outside.”
In 1890 the London police force numbered thirteen thousand eight hundred
and fifty-five men, not counting the nine hundred and two officers who
form a special organization in what is termed “the city.” A considerable
part of the time and attention of the police is devoted to governing
street traffic. Policemen will watch and follow a ’bus for several
blocks if they think it contains more passengers than the law allows.
When they are assured that this is the case they go to a magistrate and
lay a complaint, and then woe betide the poor driver or conductor who
disregarded the law.
The ’buses make special stops at certain points of their route and these
seem very long and prove tedious to one who is in a hurry; but if your
time is valuable you would never take a ’bus. They are not allowed to
stop when near or nearing these special stopping-places, not even if a
passenger expresses a desire to alight. I remember once, simply for
information, asking the driver to stop in the middle of Trafalgar
square, just as we were passing Nelson’s monument, on the way to the
Strand, cityward. “Well,” said the polite but uneducated Jehu, “you
carn’t expect me to get a four-shilling summons for a penny fare, can
you?” meaning that if he pulled up where I indicated he would be
summoned the next day on the complaint of a vigilant “bobby” and be
obliged to pay four shillings for accommodating me.
In American street cars or omnibuses--excepting, as I remember in San
José, California, a passenger who rides only a few blocks helps to pay
the fare of the man who rides the full length of the road, for the
charge to both is the same. It is not so (mis) managed in England. The
charge there is by distance, about one penny (two cents) a mile and you
pay according to the distance you ride. There are two or three lines of
omnibuses whose only fare is a half-penny (one cent). One line runs
between Westminster bridge and Trafalgar square. They pick up no
passengers between the two points. They each carry only twelve
passengers; there are no outside seats.
There is a great deal of pilfering going on among omnibus conductors,
and drivers also, for they divide the spoils; and the company winks at
it, knowing that the pay of these men is too small. The company is
satisfied if it receives a fair average return, but in this way it puts
a premium on dishonesty. There is no check against the conductors--no
mechanical contrivance to record fares. They are supposed to enter every
fare and the exact amount they receive from each passenger on a paper
slip placed in a frame, the frame being fastened to the inside of the
omnibus door, but it is only a supposition. Passengers are requested to
see that the amount paid is properly entered, but the request is wholly
unheeded. It is, to say the least, a very careless way of keeping
accounts, and invites dishonesty. On some lines they use tickets showing
the amount each passenger pays, but a conductor sometimes _forgets_ to
hand you a ticket. An Inspector will occasionally mount a ’bus to see
that all the passengers are supplied with tickets, and then the
conductor with a treacherous memory has reason to be sorry. Keep out of
a “pirate ’bus.” The rate in these ’buses is not uniform, and
overcharges are not uncommon.
ON THE TOP OF A ’BUS.
The driver is generally a jolly, red-faced fellow and very smartly
dressed, especially on Sunday. He then always wears a “top hat:” in
winter it is of black silk, in summer a pearl gray felt with a wide
mourning band to set it off. His coat is often a double-breasted drab
cassimere, and in the top buttonhole of the left lapel is a large and
loud nose-gay. A showy scarf and a pair of heavy, tan-colored driving
gloves complete his costume. He makes quite a picture as he sits on the
box, with a leather strap across his waist which holds him securely in
his seat, and a black leather apron to protect the lower part of his
body from wind and rain. He carries a showy whip with a very long and
loose thong, with the end of which he can pick off a fly from the ear of
his leader.
The ’bus driver is permitted to smoke while on duty. He comforts himself
with a briarwood pipe unless a generous passenger treats him to a cigar,
for he is not above accepting a small present.
Leopold Rothschild, who lives on a street through which omnibuses pass,
has taken a great fancy to these men and in the autumn he presents a
pair of pheasants to every omnibus driver and conductor who passes his
door.
Everybody who has visited London knows that the best way of seeing the
city is from the top of a ’bus. Get a front seat, next to the driver,
hand him a tip in the shape of a sixpence and ask him a few questions.
You will find that he is intelligent, well-informed on every-day
subjects, quick-witted and a judge of human nature.
I had a very interesting ride last summer on the top of a “Kilburn”
’bus. These ’buses start from Victoria station, and run northwest to
Kilburn, through some very beautiful thoroughfares, in which reside many
titled people and some prominent members of London society.
In Grosvenor place, soon after starting from the station, the driver
will point out, for instance, the residences of the Dukes of
Northumberland, Grafton and Portland; that of the Earl of Scarborough,
at No. 1 Grosvenor place; the Dowager Lady de Rothschild; Sir Edward
Cecil Guinness; that of the late Right Hon. William H. Smith; also the
homes of a number of members of parliament, more or less well-known.
The ’bus goes a short distance through Piccadilly and passes the
residences of Baron Ferdinand Rothschild, Lord Rothschild, the Duke of
Wellington and the Duke of Hamilton, in Hamilton place.
Then it turns into one of London’s most aristocratic streets, Park Lane
(alongside Hyde Park), where reside the Duchess of Somerset, the Marquis
of Londonderry, Lord Brassey, Alfred Rothschild, Lord Dudley, the
Countess of Dudley, Lord Grosvenor, cousin to the Duke of Westminster,
and the Duke of Westminster himself. The Duke’s wealth is untold, and he
owns miles of valuable land in this and the adjacent districts.
A ’bus marked “Hammersmith” will take you westward, through Piccadilly,
past the clubs, the parks, some stylish shops, and fashionable
residences. You will see St. James’s Palace and historic Addison Road,
_en route_, and you can ride across Hammersmith Bridge. You can also go
to Kew Gardens and to the famous “Star and Garter,” at Richmond, by
’bus.
Here’s another very interesting ride. If you are at Oxford Circus you
will see omnibuses with the horses’ heads turned eastward, and you will
hear the Cockney conductor calling out “Benk, benk, Charing Cross,
benk.” Take a ride with him. The vehicle goes through Regent street,
Trafalgar Square, the Strand, Fleet street, then down Cheapside (which
is anything but cheap), and Cornhill, where there is neither corn nor
hill. At the end of Cornhill you see the most crowded and bustling crush
of vehicles you ever saw in your life. To the right is the Mansion House
(corresponding with our City Hall); a little further on “The Monument,”
with its gold torch at top, looms up; immediately in front is The Royal
Exchange, with its Peabody statue, while to the left stands the demure
Bank of England, as solid from a financial point of view as it is
architecturally. On this route you pass and have in view The National
Gallery, Landseer’s lions, several famous hotels and theatres, the Law
Courts, Temple Bar, the principal newspaper establishments, and St.
Paul’s Church. The same ’bus, if you wish to pursue your journey
eastward, will take you through Leadenhall street and into the very
heart of Whitechapel--even to Blackwall and the docks, if your taste
lies in that direction.
There is no better way of seeing London than from the top of a ’bus if
you get a seat next to an old and wide-awake driver, and the cost is but
a few pennies. There are one hundred and forty different routes in the
whole city to choose from.
THE CITY TRAFFIC.
One of the busiest thoroughfares is that narrow street called “the
Strand,” where it is crossed by Wellington street. You drive north,
through Wellington street, past the Lyceum Theatre to get to Holborn,
Covent Garden Market and elsewhere; southward there is great traffic
over Waterloo Bridge, leading to the Surrey side of London, while from
the east and west come continuous streams of omnibuses, cabs, carriages
and heavy wagons and freight trucks. Policemen stand in the middle of
the roadway and regulate this enormous traffic by merely raising a
white-cotton-gloved hand. They are calm and immovable, and seem to pay
not the slightest heed to their own safety amid the crowded crush of
vehicles about them. All come to a standstill before the stiff and
fearless “bobby.” When by waving his hand he directs that a certain
stream of vehicles may proceed this way or that, it proceeds, but not
until he gives permission.
London Bridge is said to be the greatest thoroughfare in the world. More
vehicles and foot passengers cross it than pass through any other
street, and special provision is made for vehicular traffic. In New
York, for instance, a heavily laden four-horse truck or wagon may block
Broadway for a great distance. If you are behind it in a phaeton or
light carriage, you must wait till the driver in front of you, who may
be sullen and obstinate, leisurely moves out of the way. No matter in
how much haste you are--you may be trying to catch a train or an ocean
steamer--you must wait. Not so in London’s most crowded streets. On
London Bridge, for instance, slow-going and heavily-laden vehicles must
keep to the side near the curb and pavement, while carriages, cabs and
light vehicles are allowed the middle of the roadway for quick movement.
That part of the roadway directly next to the curb has a smooth surface,
and there is also a smooth surface about a foot wide for the outer wheel
of heavy wagons--this only on London Bridge and in a few other very busy
thoroughfares. It is a capital plan, and gives satisfaction to all
concerned.
ADVICE FROM CHARLES DICKENS.
But in such a vast city, with such enormous traffic, nothing can prevent
great loss of life and accidents innumerable from crossing the streets.
The point mentioned above is only one of the busy parts of one
street--the Strand--from another point, down by the Law Courts and
Temple Bar, it is said that two hundred more or less mangled bodies are
sent to the Charing Cross Hospital every year.
The present Charles Dickens, in his “Dictionary of London,” thinks it
worth while to suggest that the only way to go from curb to curb is to
make up your mind what course you will take, and then stick to it.
London cabbies will thus divine your intentions. To change your mind
while crossing is to confuse the cabmen, and cause you (so Dickens
suggests) to make your return journey to America in the form of freight.
As all vehicles in London are driven to the left, keep to the left curb.
I found this suggestion of Oakey Hall’s valuable: “As you leave a curb,
look to the right; as you approach a curb, look to the left.”
LONDON HOTELS.
Until the year 1880 there was only one hotel in London that came up to
the expectations of American travelers, which compared in size and
appointments with American hotels of the first-class. This was the
Langham Hotel in Portland place. When the Langham was built, nearly
thirty years ago, and for several subsequent years, as the writer can
attest, for he was a guest there in 1871, and has been a frequent
visitor there since, the Langham was large enough to accommodate all
American tourists in London.
This, however, has been greatly changed. Americans at that time merely
passed through London; they took it as a sort of stepping-stone _en
route_ for Paris. In the days of the Second Empire, when Louis Napoleon
wielded the sceptre, and Eugenie set the fashions for the civilized
world, Americans flocked to Paris like so many sheep. Then it was said:
“See Paris and die.” With the downfall of the empire and its
accompanying glories our compatriots found Paris less attractive, and
they discovered what everybody knows--that London is, in many respects,
the most interesting city in the world. A presentation to Her Majesty,
and hob-nobbing with the Prince of Wales, are the things now most
desired, and to be in the very height of fashion, one must hire a London
house for “the season,”--May, June and July.
THE LANGHAM HOTEL.
But this is a digression. The ground, the structure and the furnishing
of the Langham Hotel, which was formally opened by the Prince of Wales
in June, 1865, cost a million and a half dollars, and it was a wonder
and a revelation to the English people. Its noble granite front of two
hundred and twelve feet, its dining hall, forty-seven by one hundred and
twenty feet; its music room, drawing-room, and its public rooms
generally, were on such a grand scale that Londoners opened wide their
eyes in astonishment and admiration. The Langham, by liberal outlay of
money and constant improvement, keeps up with the times, and
notwithstanding that many splendid establishments have been erected
within the last decade, it retains its place in the very front rank.
People who have not seen the interior of the Langham Hotel, London,
since 1890, will notice some changes and marked improvements. Heretofore
the dining-room was only entered by a comparatively dark and roundabout
way, near the drawing-room; now it is approached from “the office”
direct, through a wide and handsome “vestibule,” which is flooded with
light and richly furnished, making an appropriate entrance to the
beautiful dining-room. The drawing-room, which, for its size, its
pleasing shape and rich furniture is yet one of the most attractive
salons in England, has also been greatly improved.
Colonel Sanderson, its first manager, an American, died many years ago.
He was brother to Harry Sanderson, famous in his day in New York as a
pianist. But English capitalists and business men are not given to
making changes, and so we find that Mr. Walter Gosden, who was in the
service of the Langham under Mr. Sanderson’s management, has been for
many years and is now the manager of the hotel. You can get a nice room
with beautiful outlook, and a very good breakfast here for less than
two dollars a day. This estimate includes the charge for attendance.
Address, Walter Gosden, Portland place, Regent street, W.
THE GRAND.
During the past twelve years, however, many superb buildings for hotel
purposes have been erected in the English metropolis. Among the largest
and most popular are the three grouped together, as it were, in one
short street, Northumberland avenue, which, only two blocks long,
extends in a southerly direction from Trafalgar square to the banks of
the Thames. These are the Grand, the Métropole and the Victoria, to name
them in the order they were erected. So popular has this cluster of
hotels become, and so many well-to-do Americans do they attract, that
property in the neighborhood has largely increased in value, and the
tradespeople blame the “Yankees” for the increased rents they have to
pay, never speaking of the increased patronage which they enjoy from
these same “Yankees.”
The features of the Grand Hotel, the longest established of these three,
are well-known, but former patrons will scarcely recognize the
reception-room, which, with its new, solid-looking furniture and rich,
dark decorations, is now one of the most attractive apartments of its
kind to be seen, even in these days of the upholsterer and decorator.
While artistic and costly, it has an air of utility and comfort which
you will not find very often repeated. The drawing-room of the Grand was
to be “done up” during last winter, so the secretary informed me, and
“it will be just as handsome as the reception-room.” Cable, Granotel,
London.
HÔTEL MÉTROPOLE.
To American visitors in London the Métropole is one of the most
attractive of the more recently built hotels. Situated as it is, and
being replete with all the latest conveniences and features, no hotel in
the metropolis approaches nearer to the ideal which was first evolved in
the United States of the model modern caravansary. To dwell upon the
subject of the general characteristics of the Hôtel Métropole would be
superfluous; they and it are too well known to Americans who have
visited London, but a short description of the celebrated “grand salon”
of the Métropole, as it has lately been refitted and decorated (Sept.
1891), will be read with interest.
The scheme of adornment is most tasteful, and perfectly and harmoniously
carried out in all details. Two shades of maroon in contrast with white
and gold are the leading features of the _ensemble_, and the general
effect of this combination is extremely felicitous and pleasing. The
wall space between the lofty windows and the immense mirrors is covered
with stamped Utrecht velvet of a soft, natural tint and richness of
design. The pillars are painted in maroon, with gilt capitals, an
arrangement of color which is at once novel and agreeable to the eye.
The patterns on the flutings of the beams which support the roof are
picked out in gold on a white ground.
The roof panels are covered with dull gold of a peculiarly restful tint,
and the design introduced in various portions of the general decoration
have an unusually æsthetic character. The electric lights, of which
there are a considerable number, are surrounded by cut crystal pendants
and greatly enhance the brilliancy of the illumination. In the center of
the room is a palm, the leaves of which shadow a space thirty feet in
circumference. It towers toward the ceiling, and for grace and beauty
is not easily equalled in Florida, nor greatly excelled even in
California. Tree palms are placed at intervals throughout the spacious
room, producing a pleasing effect of verdure, and each of the separate
tables is adorned with flowers; while the rich candelabra, with handsome
shades placed upon each table, afford the subdued light which is
preferable to the cruder glare of the former style of lighting. The
general _coup d’œil_ in the grand salon is singularly graceful and
attractive.
A large number of public and private banquets take place at the Hôtel
Métropole, this being one of the recognized resorts for ceremonies of
that description.
At the Métropole the “show” apartments are known as the Eugenie and
Marie Antoinette suites, and they have afforded many a descriptive
writer material for an article. Probably no hotel sleeping chambers
equal these for rich and costly decoration--for the laces, the frescoes
and luxurious furniture. The reader will know that ample means were at
command when told that in the selection of site, in constructing and
furnishing the Métropole, half a million sterling (two and a half
million dollars) were expended. And such a success has the Métropole
proved that the company were encouraged to invest further in hotel
property with the result that they now own and control three hotels of
the first class in London, also five other hotels in different parts of
Europe. Among these are the Métropole at Monte Carlo, the Métropole at
Cannes, and the Métropole at Brighton, the last named being the latest
hotel erected by this company, and one which will compare in many
respects with the most renowned hotels of the world. Rooms at the London
Métropole from five shillings to one pound per day; breakfast from
two-and-six-pence to four shillings; table d’hôte dinner, six
shillings--one dollar and a half. Manager, Wm. T. Hollands.
HOTEL VICTORIA.
The latest constructed of these three hotels is the Hotel Victoria.
Printed words cannot easily convey to the mind an adequate idea of the
magnificence of this structure. The public rooms of the Victoria are
palatial in their proportions and appointments, the grand staircase is a
marvel of beauty, and the sleeping rooms contain all the conveniences
and contrivances found in modern hotels of the highest class. Besides
the comforts characteristic of an English house, and the luxurious
cuisine of a continental hotel, the attention and the discipline which
rule at the Victoria remind one of an American hotel.
You need have no fear at the Victoria that the cards of friends calling
will not be promptly sent to you: nor is there any delay or trouble at
this house, as there is at certain hotels in the Strand, about the
delivery of telegrams, letters and packages. Each guest is known to the
officials and servants, not by name, but by number--the number of the
room he occupies. Letters are placed in your box up to a certain hour of
the evening, after that hour they are sent to your room. There is a
package-room, also a “package clerk,” who receives all bundles, signs
therefor, and enters the same in a book, so that it may be known
immediately if a package has been received for a guest.
If a telegram or a card from a caller is received and the key to your
room is not in its box, thus indicating that you are in your room, or at
least in the house, a servant is immediately dispatched to your room,
while a little page in livery is started off through all the halls and
public rooms calling out in a loud voice your room number in this
fashion, “Number 630, please.” If you are anywhere under the roof you
are sure to be found by this excellent method.