“ART OF TRAVEL”
Compilation of the _Art of Travel_—Lectures at
Aldershot—Heliostat—Rifle screen—_Reader_ newspaper
I was rather unsettled during a few years, wishing to undertake a fresh
bit of geographical exploration, or even to establish myself in some
colony; but I mistrusted my powers, for the health that had been much
tried had not wholly recovered. On the other hand, there was abundance
of useful work at home. Geographical exploration had become a topic of
general interest. Burton had penetrated to Mecca. Japan was opened, and
Laurence Oliphant had returned thence. Dr. Barth had come back at last
from his long exploration of North Africa, including districts which are
now under British and French rule and well mapped, but at that time were
either partially or quite unknown. It is very different now; a letter can
be sent for a penny to Kano, and Timbuctoo has become a French military
station. Arctic expeditions by land and sea were then much to the fore;
Dr. Rae (1813-1893) had performed his great journeys in Arctic North
America, with a wonderfully small and inexpensive equipment. Lesseps
was engaged in obtaining support for making the Suez Canal, and I must
say that the British engineers who pooh-poohed its possibility at the
meeting of the Royal Geographical Society, where it was the subject of
a paper by Lesseps, have proved untrustworthy guides and prophets. I
threw myself into the thick of the discussions and criticisms of whatever
had just been done, and into the preparations for what was about to be
undertaken, and was in short a very active member of the Council.
It was not long after my marriage that the character of a piece of work
that lay before me was clearly perceived. It was ready to be taken
in hand and most suitable to my powers. It was to aid others in the
exploration of the then unknown parts of the world, especially of Africa,
of whose total length as much had been seen by me in my two journeys as
perhaps by any one else then living. Being placed on the Council of the
Royal Geographical Society, I thoroughly utilised that position to fulfil
my object. The ignorance of travellers in any one country of the arts of
travel employed in others was great, and I tried to make a compendium
of them all. Having easy access to every traveller of note in England,
I read many books of travel, or rather skimmed them for the purpose.
Amongst others, I turned over every page in Pinkerton’s well-known series
of large quarto volumes of the narratives of travellers.
The result was that sufficient material was gathered for the composition
of a small book entitled the _Art of Travel_ (Murray). It soon reached a
second edition, and was afterwards rewritten and much enlarged to form
a third edition, which was stereotyped, and even now continues to be
sold. I also took considerable part in the first edition of the _Hints
to Travellers_ issued by the Geographical Society, which has long since
quite outgrown its original form, all its chapters having been rewritten,
each of them by experts. In its present shape it is a most trustworthy
guide to travellers for such instrumental and other scientific work as
they need to be acquainted with. The Anthropological “Notes and Queries”
are a similar and most useful compendium relating to that branch of
science. I had some share in this, but by no means a large one.
I cannot resist quoting the following letter from my cousin Charles
Darwin, the great naturalist, whose opinion as the author of the _Voyage
of the Beagle_ was naturally valued by me most highly. I had asked him
for hints while engaged on the first edition of the _Art of Travel_, and
sent him a copy of it, to which he now refers. This was four years before
the publication of the _Origin of Species_:—
“DOWN, _Jan. 10, ?1855_
“MY DEAR GALTON,—I received your kind present yesterday. I
always thought your idea of your Book a very good one, and
that you would do it capitally, and from what I have seen my
forethought is, I am sure, _quite_ justified. I hope that your
volume will have a large sale, but what I fully expect is that
it will have a long sale, and if you save from some disasters
half a dozen explorers, I feel sure that you will think
yourself well rewarded for all the trouble your volume must
have cost you.—Believe me, my dear Galton, yours very truly,
“C. DARWIN”
The outbreak of the Crimean War showed the helplessness of our soldiers
in the most elementary matters of camp-life. Believing that something
could be done by myself towards removing this extraordinary and culpable
ignorance, I offered to give lectures on the subject, gratuitously, at
the then newly founded camp at Aldershot. As may be imagined from what
is otherwise known of the confusion of the War Office at that time,
no answer at all was sent to my letters, until I ventured to apply
personally to the then Premier, Lord Palmerston, who at once caused me to
be installed. It is evident from my old notebooks that I worked very hard
to frame a suitable course of practical instruction and of lectures for
those who cared to profit by them.
General Knowles (1797-1883) was then in command, and he gave me both
moral and material help. He assigned me two huts, and made arrangements
about hours. My second brother, Erasmus, was in camp as Captain in the
2nd Warwickshire Militia, and his presence was most grateful to me.
I myself took a small house about two miles from my hut, and walked
there and back each day. Several officers came, and not a few of them
showed interest. A lecture was also given by me at the United Service
Institution, and the newspapers warmly backed the attempt. The War
Office requested that ten (I think) reproductions should be made of
a cabinet with four drawers, containing models of what was exhibited
in my lectures. One of the cabinets was sent to the South Kensington
Museum, and may be there still. One was sent to Woolwich. The others were
distributed elsewhere. I do not think that my lectures had much other
result, because the rude teachings of the Crimean War soon superseded
mine, and the army generally became expert in much of what I had wished
should be known by them.
A small contrivance of my own, over which I spent a great deal of time,
may be alluded to here; it is described at length in the _Art of Travel_,
and in other publications, as a “Hand Heliostat”[10]. I contrived and
practised with it long before the present system of sun-signalling had
been invented. The use of a heliostat for creating a point of light,
visible at great distances for purposes of Ordnance triangulation,
had long been fully recognised; a description of its employment from
Snowdon to Scawfell has already been given in Chapter V. The difficulty
in using a portable instrument is to direct the flash with sufficient
accuracy of aim. If the part of the landscape upon which the flash falls
could actually be seen by the operator, it would always appear to be
of exactly the same size as the disc of the sun itself, whatever the
distance may be; in other words, it subtends an angle of about 30 minutes
of a degree. My plan was to divert a small part of the flash so as to
create a mock-sun in the field of view of the instrument, which the
operator could throw, by judicious handling, upon any desired spot in
the landscape, with the assurance that persons on the ground covered by
the mock-sun could see the flash. The instrument is now used in nautical
surveys, as I was told by the late Hydrographer, Sir William Wharton, to
enable shore parties to make their exact whereabouts visible to those
on the ship. The heliostat that I usually carried with me went easily
into a large waistcoat pocket, and was very efficient at a distance of
ten miles. I should have been glad to possess one on many occasions when
travelling in Damara Land. However, without additional complications, it
could not be made into a really serviceable instrument for transmitting
verbal messages. It would then require nearly as much trouble to carry as
the present sun-signalling apparatus, while it would be less rapid and
sure.[3]
It is interesting to flash with a small mirror against a light-coloured
surface that lies in shadow, as through an open window against the
opposite wall of the room behind. The size and shape of the mirror is
then seen to have very little influence on the size or shape of the
mock-sun, even at moderate distances. In long-range signalling their
influence is wholly inappreciable.
I may describe here another contrivance, partly belonging to
Art-of-Travel matters, partly military, that I sent to the United Service
Institution[12]. It was appropriate to the days of “Brown Bess,” but
useless as a protection against modern musket bullets with their flat
trajectories. I showed it was easy to provide a screen under which A.
could hit B. at any distance beyond, say, 200 yards, while on the other
hand B. could not hit A., although he might see him clearly. The balls of
B. would be intercepted by the target. The principle on which the target
gave protection was that the flight of a bullet does not describe a
symmetrical curve. Its course is nearly straight at first, then gradually
curves downward until it may be said to plunge. If A. and B. are in full
sight of one another but at some little distance apart, and fire at one
another, the courses of the incoming and outgoing bullet are different.
That of the incoming bullet is higher by several inches or feet than the
outgoing. Consequently, if a shield be interposed, near to A., above his
line of shooting and at such a height that it will not interfere with his
outgoing shot, it will effectually prevent a shot of B. from touching
him, and conversely. The numerical conditions are worked out on the
paper. The idea took the fancy of some of the audience, as one that might
possibly be of much service.
I was a humble sharer in an undertaking started by Herbert Spencer, of
establishing a weekly newspaper of literature and science, that was to
eclipse the existing ones. His contention was that, if a few selected
men were to combine each to write one article weekly, on a subject
within his own province, a periodical might be produced that would have
great weight and authority. The late Sir Frederick Pollock undertook its
general editorship, to be helped in all details by a paid sub-editor,
Mr. B., while he would keep the more purely literary portion in his own
hands. Tom Hughes (the author of _Tom Brown_) lent us his rooms and his
co-operation. Tyndall undertook Physical Science; Huxley took Physiology,
with reservation, as he could not afford to give much gratuitous work;
Spencer, of course, took Philosophy; my part was to look after Travels
and Geography, and there were a few others. We subscribed £100 each;
Spencer persuaded a City friend to do a little more in order to start the
concern, so a Limited Liability Company was formed, and the newspaper
was called _The Reader_. It was an amusing experience, owing to Mr. B.’s
insistence, from a commercial point of view, about the necessity of
obtaining advertisements by all sorts of ingenious means, but some of
which, in our opinions, were not quite above-board. Then it was brought
home to us that, as our venture was one of limited liability, whatever we
bought must be paid for at once, while what we were to receive would not
be paid for many months. We were like children in the hands of Mr. B.,
who knew all the ins and outs of the commercial conditions of success,
concerning which we were almost childishly ignorant. The newspaper proved
dull, notwithstanding some really good articles. The management was
naturally too amateurish; promised articles were delayed, and the time
of the committee was too much wasted in frequent discussions about first
principles, upon which Spencer loved to dilate. So _The Reader_ did not
thrive. Its expenditure exceeded its incomings, our reserve fund melted
away, and the newspaper came to an end after about a year’s existence. We
each lost our hundred pounds, but no more, and had gained an unexpected
view of the seamy side of journalistic enterprise.