Stowed away among the cherished plans of most people is generally a
European trip. Sometimes the plan is vague, to be sure. Sometimes the
probabilities are that it will never in the world be carried out. However
that may be, it is a good thing for which to plan. Learning something
about the conditions and details of European traveling gives not a little
of the relish of the actual trip, and a preparatory journey on paper does
much to educate us to travel—as important a training, by the way, as
traveling.
The value of this practice was admirably illustrated last summer at
Chautauqua by Dr. Vincent, in his introduction to the first tourist’s
trip beyond the sea. He said:
When I was a boy I took a trip to Europe without leaving home. I
imagined myself traveling all over the continent of Europe, going
to Egypt and Palestine. I cut out a lot of paper and gave it
value as money, foreign money and American money, and every once
in a while I would take it up and imagine it covering the expense
of the trip. I would read a little, and imagine myself going
almost everywhere. I said to myself: “If I can ever go to Europe
I shall certainly go,” and I went.
I have often said to myself, if I were a teacher, knowing the
power of the imagination over children, I would take my school on
a trip to Europe, and when they grew weary with the recitations
and of the monotonous tasks or other routine of school life, I
would say: “Now let us have a bit of fun, let us go to Europe.”
I have thought of how much geography, history and architecture I
could bring out on a trip to Europe! What demand there would be
all the while for the knowledge of arithmetic! How many things
I could teach a lot of youngsters in the average school room in
the way of an imaginary trip to Europe that should last several
weeks or months! And what an opportunity we have, what facilities
we have for the furtherance of a scheme like this, in the
photographs, the engravings and books of travel, and all sorts of
things that abound everywhere, by which little people might go
with you, and be glad all the while they went, and learn all the
more because they were glad.
And then how much more intelligent the traveler would be in
his maturer years! Men and women who imagine themselves going
to Europe become much more intelligent observers on a trip to
Europe. It pays double value to them.
Imaginary trips beyond the sea may teach two very important things: How
to travel and how to observe. It is impossible for a novice to make a
European trip with the ease with which one would journey about the
United States. One must encounter strange customs, trying climates, new
languages, endless interesting sights. He will be on the verge of losing
his baggage, dire calamity! he will have his trunk ransacked, he will be
charged extra for over-weight, he will have to wait and fight and worry
his way unless fortified by a knowledge of what he must go through with,
and of how to act under all circumstances. He will miss much that he
wants to see, and see much in which he is not particularly interested,
unless his trip is thoroughly planned and he knows accurately what he is
going to see and where to go to see it.
To study up for a European trip begin with your pocket-book, and ask,
“Can I afford it?” The voyage is of course the first item. The different
lines which cross the Atlantic—no less than twelve in number—are very
nearly uniform in their charges, in their accommodations, and in their
provisions for the safety of their passengers. A first-class passage over
and back may be put at $140, but as steerage passenger one may go for
about $60. The expense of traveling in Europe varies with the caution,
tastes and habits of the person. Supposing that you are willing to walk
much, to go to second-class hotels, to ride in second or third-class
carriages, and take very little luggage, you may make your trip for from
$2 to $3 per day, and in that way, too, you have the advantage of seeing
and hearing very much that the more expensive and, in consequence, more
exclusive style of traveling denies. More than half of the unpleasantness
of traveling second-class in Europe is in the disagreeable sound of the
word “second-class.” On the Continent the associations of the third-class
carriage are by no means unpleasant—nearly all students and many
professional men travel in that way. It is, too, the only way in which to
come in contact with the people and study their habits:
First-class traveling may be estimated at about $7 per day in Great
Britain, and $6 on the Continent. The items which must be added to the
usual hotel expenses and car and carriage rates consist largely of fees
to servants in the hotels and restaurants, and to the guards, porters
and guides that seem to be essential to each traveler. It is said that
many servants on the Continent receive no wages except the fees from
travelers. It is not strange then that the result is that in order to
receive any respectable attention one must pay often and liberally. A
not inconsiderable part of the day’s expense is the little fee which is
required at the gate of churches, castles, museums, parks, and where-not.
It may be roughly estimated that a tour of three months through England,
Scotland, France, Germany, Holland and Italy can be made for $650. Of
course this is making no allowance for purchases, which latter, it is
well to warn lovers of bric-a-brac, are a continual snare to pocket-books
and incumbrance to luggage.
If you can afford the trip, then pack your trunk. Apropos of this
operation it is well to remember that much luggage is a continual
annoyance and expense. In France you can carry but fifty-five pounds
free; for all over that amount you must pay. On the railways of Germany,
Holland, Italy and Switzerland no luggage, as a rule, is free. The
truth is, you must submit to expense and trouble for every vestige over
what you can carry in your hand. A sorry outlook for Americans, who
are accustomed to the generous outfit which our capacious “Saratogas”
allow. The useful little “steamer trunks,” about twenty-five inches in
length, eighteen in width and fourteen deep, hold considerable property
if they be well packed, and one can easily arrange to leave all the ocean
paraphernalia, including the steamer chairs—a _sine qua non_ to ocean
travel, by the way—at the port of landing, until their return. Perhaps
the best plan is to take only necessary clothing—very little finery and
all the small conveniences which are requisite for comfortable living at
home. A very useful and formerly essential part of your outfit will be
your passport. Although not now absolutely necessary, except in Russia
and Portugal, it is a very convenient document, as it secures many
privileges to its possessor. It does seem strange to be obliged to carry
a paper testifying that you are yourself but in the masses of humanity
which throng Europe it is not surprising that it is sometimes necessary
to be identified. In the United States the Secretary of State has the
power of granting passports. In order to procure one an affidavit of
citizenship, with papers of naturalization, if a naturalized citizen,
must be forwarded. This must be accompanied by the affidavit of a
witness, and an oath of allegiance to the United States, all these duly
made and sworn before a justice of the peace. With these go a description
of your person, in which your age is given, your height, the color of
your eyes and hair, the size of your nose and mouth, the length of your
chin, your complexion and the shape of face.
On reaching Europe it will be necessary to secure the indorsement,
or _visa_, as it is called, of the American minister, or consul, and
afterward of the minister of the country to be visited. The last item of
business to worry you before you leave is to put your funds into a shape
in which you will have no trouble. The “letter of credit” is undoubtedly
the favorite method, as by it any amount may be drawn at almost any
place a tourist will visit. Several banking houses of New York furnish
them. Napoleons are current in all parts of the Continent, and English
sovereigns pass in Belgium, Holland and Germany. _Circular notes_ of from
£10 to £20 and upward may be obtained and are available throughout Europe.
These matters arranged, there is a much more important one to occupy your
attention—to plan your trip. The indefinite purpose of tourists, their
hap hazard efforts to see everything, involves them too often in a jumble
of misconnections, lost days, out-of-the-way trips, and unnecessary
expense, where a careful arrangement of their plan beforehand would have
saved them time, trouble and money. Plan your trip. If you can go for
but six weeks or three months, do not try to see all Europe and part of
Asia in that time. Be content to “do” thoroughly a smaller territory,
and be assured that you will be the gainer. It is well to invest in a
guide-book—a stout, latest edition, reliable guide-book—Harper’s or
Appleton’s is best—and select your trip. Decide exactly where you want to
go, and what you want to see. If you are interested in paintings, prepare
an outline of the European schools of painting, with the examples of each
that will be found on your route. Put down on your chart the subjects of
these pictures, and an outline history of the artists. Thus equipped you
can study and enjoy the work without wasting time in learning historical
details. It is wise to know something of the history of each locality
which you visit, to be familiar with the palaces, cathedrals and museums
of the cities, and the government, customs and employments of the people.
Nor is it at all difficult to learn these things. Books of travels,
delightful magazine papers, newspaper letters teem with information which
can all be utilized on an imaginary European trip. It would be wiser
if many people who spend much time in acquiring a slight smattering of
French, German and Italian in order to make their way understandingly
on the Continent would let the language go and study the countries,
their cities and their people. Better, because English is spoken at
all the leading European hotels and by most guides, and at nearly all
points interpreters may be found to assist in making any necessary
arrangements. Of course the greatest amount of good can only be gained by
one commanding the languages, but where there must be a choice between a
smattering of them and general information on what one is about to see,
by all means choose the latter.
* * * * *
Through the whole course of life it is right to hold, and to have held
in a preëminent degree, the kindest language toward our parents, because
there is the heaviest punishment for light and winged words; for Nemesis,
the messenger of Justice, has been appointed to look after all men in
such matters.—_Plato._