_HOLIDAYS ABROAD._
A journey through unfamiliar scenes had at all times a special
fascination for William Nelson; and had circumstances favoured the
devotion of his early years to exploration in strange, unknown regions,
it was a work that would have proved peculiarly congenial to his tastes.
He had some of the most needful characteristics of an observant
traveller; and his acuteness and keen desire for the thorough
investigation of whatever came under notice, would have secured results
of permanent value. But as it was, his later travels, even when out of
the beaten track of the tourist, were necessarily the mere holiday
rambles of a man escaping from the engrossing cares of business. Yet
even such rambles furnish some interesting glimpses of character.
From among William Nelson’s varied experiences of foreign travel in
later years I select his trip to the Baltic in 1878, the incidents of
which are familiar to me as his companion on the journey. More
correctly, he accompanied me, starting at a few hours’ notice with that
indifference to elaborate preparation so characteristic of him as a
traveller. We sailed from Leith on the 4th of July by the steam-ship
_Buda_, bound for Copenhagen. The North Sea gave us a rough shake; but I
was seasoned for the voyage by fresh Atlantic experiences, and William
Nelson was a good sailor in all weathers. He was at home among the
sailors on the deck or in the forecastle, and found, as usual, some
objects of practical sympathy there.
The first subject of curious investigation was the famed castle of
Helsingör--Hamlet’s Elsinore. But it is better seen through
Shakespeare’s eyes, and is much too modern and prosaic to awaken any
associations with Hamlet the Dane. Our traveller, who was apt to be
amusingly literal on such occasions, protested against the contemptible
escarpment which it offered in lieu of
“The dreadful summit of the cliff
That beetles o’er his base into the sea.”
But Copenhagen had much to interest him; and among the rest, the
recurrence of his own name, under slight modifications, suggesting the
possible descent of the Covenanting farmers of the Carse of Stirling
from some rough old Baltic viking. The Thorwaldsen Galleries were
explored with keen interest. Then, too, I was fortunate in an early
personal acquaintance with the eminent Danish archæologist, Wörsaae,
which subsequent correspondence on subjects of mutual interest had
ripened into friendship. He was then chamberlain to the king. So under
his guidance a charming day was passed in the Rosenborg Slot, where, in
addition to the choice cabinet of coins, the famous silver drinking-horn
of Oldenburg, and other ancient relics, a succession of state apartments
are arranged with historical portraits, arms, jewels, and furniture of
the royal Danish line. Illustrated as they were by the fascinating
commentary of our guide, they charmed William Nelson beyond measure. “It
was,” he said, “like walking down the centuries into the present time.”
Another day was spent, under the same instructive guidance, inspecting
the richly-stored cabinets of the Prindsens Palais, where the Runic
slabs from Greenland--memorials of the Northmen’s pre-Columbian
discovery of America--excited the liveliest interest.
On returning to our hotel on the latter occasion, we found unusual stir
and excitement. We had not been aware that the Prince Imperial of France
was a guest at the hotel--come to Copenhagen, as was reported, to sue
for the hand of a Danish princess; and here was his Danish majesty’s
carriage awaiting the prince to take him to dine at the palace at the
fashionable hour of 5 P.M. William Nelson remarks in a letter of the
following July:--“You would see the sad fate of the Prince Imperial;
though one cannot help asking what business he had there, fighting the
poor Zulus who had done him no wrong, and bringing discredit on British
officers who were there on duty, whatever we may think of such duty. It
seems hard to blame them for bolting--every man for himself. But you
remember the little prince as we saw him at Copenhagen; he did not seem
very fit to fight Zulus or anybody else, poor fellow.”
The Frue Kirke occupies a prominent place among the attractions of
Copenhagen, and is now associated in my mind with a characteristic
little incident. The travellers had visited the church, the decorations
of which, from the chisel of Thorwaldsen, constitute the main source of
its interest. On the morning of the Sunday following they attended the
English service; and in the afternoon his companion announced his
intention to go to the Frue Kirke, and invited William Nelson to
accompany him. But he refused, protesting that they should not
understand a word of the service, and pronouncing the procedure to be a
desecration of the day. His fellow-traveller had accordingly to go
alone. The church is in the form of a Roman basilica, built under the
direction of the great Danish sculptor, with a special view to its
marble adornments. The sole light is admitted from ground-glass panels
in the ceiling. Above the altar, in the chancel, stands the colossal
statue of Christ, with arms extended in loving regard. In front of each
pier, in the nave, is a statue of an apostle: St. Paul symbolizing the
irresistible might of the truth; St. Peter the custodian of the symbolic
keys; the doubting Thomas, with look of indecision and finger on his
lip; St. John as the impersonation of love; and the others, each more or
less skilfully suggesting some appropriate ideal. As works of art they
are open to criticism, for as an artist Thorwaldsen had far more of
classical than of Christian feeling. But the absence of all gay
colouring, usually so much favoured in church decoration, and the grand
scale of the works in pure white marble, so appropriate to a place of
Christian worship, produce as a whole an effect singularly impressive in
its mode of enlisting art as the handmaid of religion. The Lutheran
service, with its familiar hymn tunes, was simple as that of the
Presbyterian Church; and the sermon was obviously eloquent, though
delivered in the unknown Danish tongue. On the wanderer returning to the
hotel, he found his friend asleep in an easy-chair, and ventured to hint
that his time had been spent to as good purpose; but this idea was
scouted, and William Nelson stuck to it, that the sharing in the
afternoon service of the Frue Kirke was a profanation of the day.
His interest was specially excited by the comments of Wörsaae, on the
succession of flora in Denmark, from the _Pinus sylvestris_ of the
early Stone Period to that of the _Quercus robur_ which accompanies the
prehistoric works of the Iron Age, and has been replaced within the
historic period by the beech. So a run by rail afforded him the
gratification of seeing one of the fine beech forests of Denmark. But he
was still more charmed with the habitual courtesy of the Dane. The
Thorwaldsen Museum has refined the Copenhageners, even to the proverbial
street boy. He who was at all times noticeable for that spontaneous
courtesy which knew no distinction between rich and poor, was amused to
learn that the travellers were guilty of an unconscious boorishness in
keeping their hats on when entering a shop, or even a railway
waiting-room. At their first Swedish railway station--a half-finished
structure with unglazed windows--a Danish friend drew their attention to
this notice: “Behall gerna hufvudbonaden pa!” which politely invited
them to keep their hats on under such exceptional circumstances. The
impression which this produced was recalled by an incident of a
different kind, on their proceeding from Stockholm to Christiania. Their
interview with custom-house officers on the frontier reminded them that
Sweden and Norway are still distinct kingdoms. The simple kindly manners
of the Norwegian people charmed them no less than those of the Danes.
Introductions gave them access to scenes of quiet domestic life, where
they learned to shake hands with the host and hostess after dinner,
with the salutation: “Tak for maten”--thanks for the repast. A journey
northward among the mountains and fiords afforded some amusing
experiences of the kindly hospitalities of the peasant proprietors. The
sheaf of oats, a Christmas gift for the birds, which surmounts the gable
of every Norwegian farm-house, greatly charmed William Nelson as a thing
so consonant to his love for the lower animals. The wild birds struck
them as very familiar, never being molested, as they were told, even by
the boys. On their return to the Norwegian capital, they had occasion in
one of their rambles to appeal to a stranger for direction. Their few
words of Norwegian, and his more ample English, proving inadequate for
the occasion, he politely undertook to be their guide; and after a walk
of nearly half a mile, he turned to William Nelson to inquire the name
of the person we were in search of, and lifting his hat he said: “Please
you wait till I ask where he is to find.”
With such experiences of Danish and Norwegian courtesy, they had not
long returned to Christiania when they learned of the expected arrival
of his majesty King Oscar, to open the Storthing, or Norwegian
parliament. Mingling with the crowd that awaited his arrival, they were
surprised at the reception tendered to their sovereign and the crown
prince by those same courteous Norwegians. It was his majesty’s first
appearance since he vetoed a popular measure excluding the ministers of
the crown from a seat in the Storthing. There was nothing menacing or
rude in his reception, but the only hat taken off on the occasion was
that of the king himself.
In 1882 William Nelson visited Portugal and Spain for the second time,
accompanied on this occasion by Mrs. Nelson and his two younger
daughters. At Cadiz, Seville, Toledo, Cordova, and other cities at which
the travellers tarried, he derived intense gratification from the
magnificent mediæval remains, the splendid cathedrals with their
elaborately sculptured details, but above all, from the novel beauty of
Arabian art. Already, at Damascus, Grand Cairo, and other Eastern
cities, he had been greatly impressed with the taste and the fine
elaboration of detail in the works of the Arabian architects. His rooms
at Salisbury Green were enriched with tiles from the Alhambra, and with
pottery and beautiful models of other works of the Spanish Moors.
The notes of Dr. Porter of Belfast have already furnished interesting
reminiscences of the interchange of experiences and observations between
William Nelson and himself as travellers in the East; and they are no
less available for information illustrating the impressions left on the
mind of the former by his Spanish tour. Dr. Porter thus writes:--“Mr.
Nelson spoke to me often, and with singular enthusiasm, of his travels
in Spain, and of all the wonders of art and architecture he saw there.
On one occasion, I remember well, after showing me some of the exquisite
models brought from the Alhambra, and also drawings of the Great
Mosque-Cathedral of Cordova, and of the Alkazar in Seville, he said:
‘All these are relics of the Moors, or imitations of their work. Where
did they get that marvellous style of architectural decoration? It is
unique. There is nothing like it, except in those countries where the
Moors were settled. The Greeks excelled it in pure taste and grandeur of
idea; the Egyptians in magnitude, as at Thebes and Ghizeh; the Assyrians
in vastness and perhaps splendour; but in beauty of ornament, in
delicacy of finish, in gorgeousness of interior decoration, the Moors
stand unrivalled. I often wonder how, where, and at what exact period
this Moorish style of architecture was conceived; in what way all its
details were elaborated. One sees it in the Great Mosque at Jerusalem,
in the old Arab tombs and the private houses of Damascus, in the mosques
of Cairo and Algiers, and above all in the glorious Alhambra. The Greeks
had their schools of architecture and art: where were the Arabs or Moors
taught? Their peculiar style, so far as I know,’ he added, ‘rose
rapidly, almost at a bound. We can scarcely discover any trace of
progress from rude beginnings, as in the Greek architecture. This has
ever been to me a most interesting and mysterious subject.’” Mr. Nelson
evidently thought and read not a little upon Moorish architecture, but,
like many another student, without arriving at any satisfactory result.
“How the wild tribes who came up from the desert of Arabia, and occupied
in succession the great cities of Syria, Egypt, northern Africa, and
lastly of Spain, attained to so much taste and splendour in architecture
seems a mystery.” Then he remarked: “When Arab rule ceased, architecture
declined in all those places, and has never been revived.” He remarked
more than once: “Were not the Arabs, especially those in the great
cities of the East, a literary people? Had they not a multitude of books
on the various departments of science and philosophy? Was not their
language capable of expressing the most profound thoughts? Did it not
give evidence of high cultivation?” The impress of their intellectual
influence, still manifest throughout Christian Spain, attracted his
notice on all hands, and especially in its ecclesiastical architecture.
The Moorish artists, he observed, had furnished the models on which,
after the conquest of Granada, the architects of Christian Spain
wrought. When conversing about the celebrated Cathedral of Cordova, he
said: “That appears to me to be one of the most remarkable buildings in
Spain, or perhaps in the world. It seems to be of purely Arab
architecture: in all respects like a mosque, and adapted originally for
the Moslem worship. Its internal decoration too is Arab, with the
flaring stripes on the walls of red and white paint, and the imitation
of red and white stones in the circular arches;” and he observed that he
had seen rude painting exactly resembling it in several of the private
houses and on the outside of the mosques in Damascus and Cairo. Nothing
different from ordinary usage, either in building or internal
decoration, escaped his keen observation; but his ignorance of the
language precluded him from that familiar intercourse with the people
which, when opportunity offered, he ordinarily turned to such good
account.
He was not unfamiliar with the beautifully illuminated mediæval Arabic
manuscripts. On one occasion, when looking over Silvestre’s “Universal
Paleography” with myself, he remarked on the rare beauty of the Arabian
illuminations, recalling his observation of them in an example shown to
him in one of the mosques at Cairo; and he noted that even now
illuminated manuscripts may be seen exposed for sale in the bazaars of
Damascus and Grand Cairo. Dr. Porter referred to the great interest that
he manifested in the work of the modern printing-press in the latter
city, and the eagerness with which he inquired about the character of
the books issued from the press set up there by the native Arabs. Dr.
Porter told him “that there were many on medical subjects, many on
interpretations of the Koran, on Mohammedan religion and morals, and one
work especially which greatly pleased the common people.”--“What one is
that?” he asked.--“The ‘Thousand and One Nights,’” was the reply. “You
can hear them in every _café_ throughout the East. Men act them
professionally, read and recite them; and those who frequent the _cafés_
always give them small presents in money.”
The lack of a colloquial knowledge of the native language was a source
of inevitable difficulty and trouble to the Spanish tourists; but in
spite of this Mr. Nelson’s observant habits were directed to some of the
local peculiarities of the native dialects, and Dr. Porter notes:--“He
appeared to take a great interest in the language of that part of Spain
which is to a large extent peopled by the descendants of the Moors. I
told him of many of the local names which are derived from the Arabic,
and gave him examples of the singular changes which have been made in
them to give them a Spanish form and sound. ‘That accounts,’ he said,
‘for the peculiar pronunciation of some of those names by the people in
the south of Spain, so very different from what would appear from the
spelling, and from what we in this country have been accustomed to
hear.’ He had noticed all this in his travels, and, as was his uniform
habit, tried to get at the root of everything.”
But modern Spain had also its historical associations for the English
traveller. In our own youthful days the war of the Peninsula and the
crowning victory of Waterloo were the prominent themes in popular
thought; and so William Nelson naturally turned from the exquisite
remains of Arabian art to muse on the battlefields of Talavera and
Albuera. After surveying the fortifications of Badajoz, he writes to his
friend Captain Chester: “I could not help asking myself, What good came
of all the blood shed on those two terrible battlefields, and of all who
perished in the frightful siege and assault of Badajoz? Why should
British blood have flowed like water for such a country and such a
people as the Spaniards?” He visited Gibraltar, and passed on to
Tangier; and as he notes the width of the strait and the features of the
great fortress, he considers its retention by England as no longer
desirable. He thus writes to his friend Captain Chester: “I took care by
the way to take a good look at that so-called _precious jewel_ of the
British crown, Gibraltar, wondering to myself what can be the use to us
of this gigantic fox-trap. The popular idea is that it commands the
straits; but these are about twenty-two miles in width, there is deep
water to the opposite coast, and the gun has still to be invented that
can carry to such a distance. They are just now engaged in mounting a
one hundred ton gun in a little fort that has been expressly built for
it; but where will ever be the enemy that will allow its ships or
ironclads to be brought within range of such a monster? There are to be
four guns of this calibre erected on the fox-trap.” He next discusses
its value as a coaling-station, and thus proceeds: “We have no fewer
than seven thousand troops of one kind and another immured within the
walls; and there is nothing for the common soldiers in the way of
amusement. Time hangs heavy on their hands, and they hate ‘Gip’ with a
perfect hatred.... I am unpatriotic enough to say that the fortress
ought to be given up, as it has never been, and never can be, I am
convinced, of any use to us. It cannot be said that it does more than
merely command the ground on which it stands and points that can be
reached by its guns.”
This was not William Nelson’s first visit to Spain; he had travelled
through it before alone, and remembered nothing but the pleasures of the
journey. But his experiences were different now, and he thus wrote to a
friend soon after his return: “I have come back from my trip a wiser if
not a better man; and the wisdom I have learned is that no one with a
party of ladies should attempt travelling in Spain without a courier.
We did not indulge in this luxury, and as none of us could speak
Spanish, and as it is a rare thing for a Spaniard to learn any language
but his own, the troubles that we fell into on this account were not
infrequent. Again: Spaniards as a rule have no conscience, and when they
have to do with parties travelling as we were, they fleece them most
unmercifully; and we were not spared by them, I assure you. I need not
say that the old Moorish cities of Spain are very charming, and that the
people of Spain are very interesting on account of their picturesque
costumes, and their being, as it were, an intermediate race between the
people of the Orient and the Occident (to use two words that are rather
grand).” It was characteristic of William Nelson’s transparent
guilelessness that it never occurred to him to make any secret of his
own blunders, or to conceal the mishaps which they involved. He gave a
most humorous account of the travellers’ perplexities--the luggage
persistently going one way and its owners another, till the ladies’
troubles culminated at Madrid, where the attractions of a court
reception and introduction to the state mysteries of the Palacio Real
were balked by the lack of all but their travelling costume.
A later tour, in 1886, took the traveller once more to Norway, on his
way to St. Petersburg and Moscow, in company with Mrs. Nelson, Florence,
and their expected son-in-law, Mr. S. F. MacLeod. On that occasion the
ancient capital of Norway, beautifully situated on a bay in the
Trondhjem Fiord, afforded him a special object of interest in its
curious old cathedral, the most remarkable ecclesiastical edifice in
Norway. It dates from 1033, and still retains singularly interesting
remains of the Romanesque work of the Northmen of the eleventh century.
But it is overlaid with many unsightly additions of a later date, well
calculated to excite the critical comments of one whose indefatigable
labours were so successfully directed to the removal of such incongruous
defacements from the ancient buildings in his own native city. Numerous
letters are available for the details of this later tour; but there is
not room in a brief memoir such as is now aimed at for more than a few
characteristic gleanings from the traveller’s tale. Some of his notes on
the architecture of St. Petersburg will come under notice in a later
chapter; but one literary comment must not be omitted here. Writing to
his friend, Captain MacEnery, he says: “The censorship of the press in
St. Petersburg is something terrible. All newspapers and periodicals in
all languages are subjected to its tender mercies. As an instance of
this, a copy of the _Scotsman_ posted to St. Petersburg came to us with
about three-fourths of a column blotted out, on account of some
statements that displeased the great authority as to what should or
should not be read by the subjects of the emperor. A copy of _Punch_
also reached us with a paragraph blotted out. It would make a grand
subject for a cartoon: the emperor of all the Russias surrounded by
countless thousands of armed men, and yet afraid of poor _Punch_!”