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Transcriber's note:
The following typographical errors have been corrected:
Page 58: "From street to street we pass, viewing the wretched
tenements, and more wretched inmates huddling together over a faint
spark of fire ..." 'tenements' amended from 'temements'.
Page 167: "I am quite anxious to capture, by camera, not by force
of arms, some of these rare types of strength and beauty, and
observing two pretty young girls standing in the doorway of one of
the houses, both perfect specimens of physical health, I think this
an opportunity not to be neglected." 'two' amended from 'too'.
Page 290: "A halo of romance surrounds this region, and in the many
excursions from this point, the lover of the weird and visionary
will find his every step accompanied by imaginary maidens of rare
grace and beauty, brave knights, crafty priests, wild huntsmen,
cruel dragons, super-human heroes, and all the wonderful personages
of legendary lore." 'weird' amended from 'wierd'.
Page 296: "Just below are Rhoendorf, Honnef, Rheinbreitbach, Unkel,
and Erpel ..." 'Rhoendorf' amended from 'Rhondoerf'.
[Illustration: THE CANAL AT MONNIKENDAM]
Odd Bits of Travel
with
Brush and Camera
by
CHARLES M. TAYLOR, JR.
Author of "Vacation Days in Hawaii and Japan" and "The British Isles
Through an Opera Glass," Etc., Etc.
Profusely Illustrated by the Author
Philadelphia
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.
103 and 105 South Fifteenth Street
Copyright, 1900, by
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO
TO MY WIFE
Preface.
In almost every walk of life, even among artists and photographers, we
find those who are enthusiasts, and who work with such ardor and
perseverance as to overcome all difficulties; while there are others who
seem to desire the hard and rough places smoothed down, and the
obstacles removed from their pathways. In writing this volume, it has
been my purpose to enlist the attention of both of these classes, and to
bring before the ardent worker as well as the ease-loving, but no less
interested, follower of art, places and scenes that afford unusual
attractions for the brush and camera.
It might truthfully be said that in one's city may be found innumerable
subjects of interest to both the amateur and professional artist; but
change of food, scene and atmosphere is beneficial to both mind and
body, and it is ofttimes wise to pass to new scenes and broader fields
of observation.
The places described herein are not linked together by proximity of
location and follow no regular line of travel; but are selected from
various lands and from among widely differing peoples, for the sole
purpose of locating scenes that teem with paintable and photographic
subjects. I have endeavored to select nooks and corners where the artist
and photographer will have suitable accommodations, and where the
country with its fresh, pure air, and wholesome food may build up the
health, while at the same time an opportunity is afforded for filling
the portfolio with delightful bits of scenery and characteristic figure
studies. It has also been my aim to tell of countries and places
comparatively easy of access, and where those of limited means may find
satisfactory accommodations.
At times I digress in my pictorial descriptions and offer some Bits of
personal experience that have befallen me upon my journeys, which I
trust may prove of interest and perhaps be of service to others
travelling through the same places. It is with these purposes in view
that the following pages have been written, and my hope is that they may
serve to guide other lovers of the beautiful to some of the attractive
spots and fascinating views which I have attempted to describe in these
ODD BITS OF TRAVEL.
_Philadelphia, 1900._ C. M. T., JR.
CONTENTS
PAGE
SCENES OF THE PRESENT AND RELICS OF THE PAST
Passing Vessels--The Ocean--Sudden Changes--Taking
Photographs--The Landing-Stage at Liverpool--New Brighton--In the
Country--Liverpool by Night--Salvationists--Old
Taverns--Chester--An English Home--Relics--The Cathedral--The
River Dee--Leamington--The River Leam--Warwick Castle--An Old
Mill--Through Kenilworth, Coventry and Stoneleigh--"The King's
Arms"--Nature's Pictures 15
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE
The Shadow Side--The Slums--The City by Night--Vice and
Misery--"Chinese Johnson's" Opium Den--The "Bunco" Man--An
English Guard--"The Grand Old Man"--Caution to Tourists--Great
Cities by Night--The Seven Dials--Derby Day--The Tally-Ho--Old
Robin Hood Inn--Epsom Hill--The Races--Exciting Scenes--Side
Shows--The Close of the Day 57
SCENES IN THE GAY CAPITAL
Dover to Calais--Paris---The Gay Capital by
Night--Boulevards--Life in the Streets--Champs Elysees--Place de
la Concorde--Arc d'Etoile--Place Vendome--Louvre--Opera
House--Palais Royal--Church of the Invalides--Versailles--Notre
Dame--Jardin Mabille--The Madeleine--The Pantheon--The Banks of
the Seine--French Funeral Ceremonies--La Morgue--Pere Lachaise 83
ANTWERP AND THE CITY OF WINDMILLS
From Paris to Antwerp--Along the Route--Thrifty
Farmers--Antwerp--Dogs in Harness--The River--Old
Churches--Chimes--An Inappreciative Listener--Steen
Museum--Instruments of Torture--Lace Industry--Living
Expenses--Hospitality--The City of Windmills--Watery Highways--A
City of Canals--The Maas River--The Houses on the Canals--Travel
by Boat--Novel Scenes--Costly Headgear--Dutch Costumes--Powerful
Draught Horses--No Bonbons--Chocolate Candy--In the
Market-Place--The Belle of the Market--Photographs--Wooden
Shoes--Drawbridges--Blowing the Horn--Ancient Relics--The Sword
of Columbus 101
A CITY OF MANY ISLANDS
Amsterdam--The People of Holland--Amstel River--Merry
Excursionists--Interesting Institutions--Origin of the
City--Source of Prosperity--A Cousin to Venice--Ninety
Islands--Beams and Gables--Block and Tackle--Old Salesmen--Street
Markets--Haarlem--Railway Travel at Home and Abroad--Ancient
Buildings--Historic Associations--In the Canal--Groote Kerk--The
Great Organ--Picturesque Subjects--Zandvoort--Eau de Cologne--The
Beach--Dutch Sail Boats--Seamen--Hooded Chairs--Peddlers--Music
in Holland and Germany--Gypsies--We Meet an
Artist--Hospitality--A Banquet 127
EXCURSIONS TO BROEK AND THE ISLAND OF MARKEN
A Charming Journey--Fellow-Passengers--National Costumes--The
Children--A Lovely Landscape--Holstein
Cattle--Windmills--Irrigation--Farmers--A Typical Dutch
Village--Washing-Day--The Red, White and Blue--Suppose a Bull
Should Appear--A Brilliant Picture--Drawing the Canal
Boat--Honesty and Cleanliness--A Thrifty and Industrious
People--Farming and Cheese-making--As Evening Falls--Scenes for
an Artist--Dead Cities of Holland--Monnikendam--Behind the
Age--City Lamps--Houses and People--The Island of Marken--An
Isolated Wonderland--First Impressions--Rare Holidays--The Family
Doctor--Absence of the Men--The Fishing--Healthy and Industrious
Population--The Women of Marken--Pretty Girls--They Will not be
Taken--A Valuable Experience--Photographs 149
THE ANCIENT TOWN OF MONNIKENDAM
Marken Homes--Beds in the Wall--Family Heirlooms--An Ancient
Clock--Precious Treasures--Quaint Customs--Betrothed Couples--The
Hotel--Its Interior--A Lack of Patrons--Costumes of a By-gone
Age--Farewell to Marken--Remote Districts--Monnikendam--Ancient
Houses--Hotel de Posthoorn--The Postman of the Past--A Difficult
Stairway--We Stroll about the Town--Our Retinue--In Front of the
Hotel--Such Curious Children--Supper--We Visit the
Shops--Pantomime--A Novel Experience--They Cannot Understand--No
Candles--We Attract a Crowd--The Clothing Store--A Marken
Suit--"Too High"--Bargaining--A Stranger to the Rescue 177
OLD CUSTOMS AND QUAINT PICTURES
Segars and Tobacco--Row Boats--"Gooden Morgen"--The Zuyder
Zee--By Candle Light--Total Darkness--The Town by Night--Women
and Girls--Shoes and Stockings--The Shuffling Man--Streets and
Sidewalks--The Town Crier--The Daily News--A Message to the
People--Draught Dogs--Milkmaids--The Barber Shop--Drug
Stores--Horretje--A Street Auction--Selling Curios--They Leave
their Shoes at the Door--An Old Grist Mill--The Holland Draught
Girl 205
A DUTCH CHEESE-MAKING DISTRICT
A Cheese-making Country--Edam Cheese--A Picturesque Inn--An
Interesting Interior--A Thrifty Farmer--At Sunrise--In the Cow
Stable--The Pretty Maid--Stall and Parlor--The Cheese Room--The
Process of Making Cheese--"I Have Listened and Listened"--A Trip
to Volendam--A Fine Country Road--A Charming Day--Muzzled
Dogs--The Only Street--A Multitude of Children--Gay
Decorations--A United People--As a Hen and Her Brood--Their
Wealth is Their Health--In Sunday Dress--Stalwart Men and Sturdy
Women--A Higher Type--"I Have Enough"--Fishermen--The
Anchorage--A Volendam Suit 233
VOLENDAM SIGHTS, AND THE OLDEST TOWN ON THE RHINE
Church is Out--The Promenade--"Every Man is a Volume"--An Old
Suit--His Sunday Clothes--"Let Him Have It"--An Obedient Son--The
Silver Buttons--The Last Straw--An Uncommon Action--The Hotel--An
Artist's Resort--An Unfinished Painting--Good-bye--The Ancient
City of Cologne--The Cathedral--Within the "Dom"--A Wonderful
Collection--Foundation of the Town--History--Vicissitudes--Public
Gardens--Eau de Cologne--The Palace of Bruehl 255
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE RHINE
Bonn--The Birthplace of Beethoven--The Museum--Monument--A Famous
Restaurant--College Students--Beer Mugs--Special Tables--Affairs
of Honor--Koenigswinter--Magnificent Views--Drachenfels--The
Castle--The Dombruch--Siegfried and the Dragon--A Desecrated
Ruin--The Splendor of the Mountains--Many Visitors--View from the
Summit--The Students' Chorus--German Life--A German
Breakfast--The Camera--Old Castles and Lofty Mountains--Legends
of the Rhine--The Waters of the Rhine--Vineyards 283
FROM BINGEN ON THE RHINE TO FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN
Vast Vineyards--Bingen--The Hotel--The Down Quilt--A German
Maid--Taverns--The Mouse Tower--Ruedesheim--Niederwald--The
Rheingau--The National Monument--The Castle of Niederburg--Wine
Vaults--The River--Street Musicians--A
Misunderstanding--Frankfort-on-the-Main--The Crossing of the
Ford--A Free City--Monument of Goethe--History--A Convocation of
Bishops--The City Monument of Gutenberg--The House in which
Rothschild was Born--Luther 313
A PRUSSIAN CAPITAL AND A FASHIONABLE RESORT
We Start for Berlin--Mountain and Valley--Harvesters--Villages--A
Great City--Unter den Linden--Kroll Theatre and Garden--The City
Streets--The Brandenburg Gate--Potsdam--The Old Palace--Sans
Souci--Ostend--A Fashionable Watering-Place--The Promenade--The
Kursaal--On the Beach--Bathing Machines--Studies for an
Artist--The Race-Course--Sunday--The Winning Horse--Fickle Dame
Fortune--The English Channel--A Bureau of
Information--Queenstown--An Irish Lass--The Last Stop--The End of
the Journey 333
List of Illustrations.
PAGE
Canal at Monnikendam (_Frontispiece_)
We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune 17
She proves to be a Barkentine under full sail 22
The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro 26
Amongst these are two typical products of the British Isles, 30
This is a fine field for the student of human nature 35
Wayside Inn, New Brighton 39
Typical English houses with their massive thatched roofs 43
Suburban residence 48
White Hall Horse Guards' Barracks 65
A short run of an hour 74
The chalky cliffs of Dover 79
The largest and handsomest Gothic church in the Netherlands 106
The place is intersected everywhere by canals 112
In many cases the balconies of residences overhang the water 117
The belle of the market 123
The Amstel River 132
Wicker chairs offer rest to the weary pedestrian 141
The flat landscape is varied by herds of cattle 152
Most of the houses have a canal at the back 156
The blue stream finds its outlet in the river 161
All persuasions accomplish naught 165
One old woman is fascinated with the camera 170
We walk along the narrow streets 176
Sheep, grazing upon the green pasture lands, form a homelike
scene 182
Hotel de Posthoorn 187
De Hooflstraat, Monnikendam 193
There is a young man whose walk is all his own 200
The streets and sidewalks are kept scrupulously clean 204
The whole place is a succession of quaint and picturesque houses 208
A street auction 213
At the farthest end of the street stands an old windmill 217
A beautifully shaded walk just outside the town 221
Land and water 228
A good road for the bicycle 232
This strange looking highway runs lengthwise through the town 241
The houses are roofed with red tiles 245
The delicate lace caps frame smiling faces 254
As the congregation draws nearer we halt before the foremost
group 258
Every man is a volume if you know how to read him 263
Goeden dag. Tot weerziens 267
Palace of Bruehl 276
Lovely walks, and bowery avenues 282
Not far off stands the statue of the artist 287
The great peak known as the Drachenfels, or Dragon Rock 293
How noble and defiant is the appearance of these venerable
fortresses 302
Every turn of the river presents a different view 306
Now we behold the little church surrounded by picturesque houses 311
Approaching Bingen we see vineyards covering the mountain side 315
Thousands of fashionably dressed people appear upon this
promenade 338
There are many odd and fantastic sights here 342
One's portfolio might soon be filled with interesting subjects 346
Many typical Irish characters come aboard our vessel 350
Several small boats are floating at our side 355
Beyond is all abyss, Eternity, whose end no eye can reach 359
Scenes of the Present and Relics of the Past.
_Scenes of the Present and Relics of the Past._
Passing Vessels--The Ocean--Sudden Changes--Taking Photographs--The
Landing Stage at Liverpool--New Brighton--In the Country--Liverpool by
Night--Salvationists--Old Taverns--Chester--An English
Home--Relics--The Cathedral--The River Dee--Leamington--The River
Leam--Warwick Castle--An Old Mill--Through Kenilworth, Coventry and
Stoneleigh--"The King's Arms"--Nature's Pictures.
We sight a steamer on our leeward side. A passing vessel is a great
excitement on an ocean voyage. From the time when she first appears, a
tiny speck on the distant horizon, every one is on deck watching her as
she slowly climbs into full view, then draws nearer and nearer to our
floating palace. How companionable she seems in the vast waste around
us. We wonder to which line she belongs; what is her name; her speed,
and whither she is bound: and now that she is within hailing distance,
we await eagerly the result of the usual interchange of questions and
answers by means of small flags and a certain code of signals, well
understood throughout the nautical world. The following are some of the
questions asked: "To what line do you belong?" "What is your port?"
"Have you seen any icebergs?" "Met any wrecks?" "Are you a tramp?" and
so on, until both sides are satisfied, then away she speeds on her
course, while the passengers and sailors on both ships gaze at one
another through their glasses until they are lost in the distance. The
excitement is over, and we all return to our former occupations, or
stand looking idly out to sea until once more there is a cry: "A sail! A
sail!" and we begin to hope that she too is coming our way. Straining
our eyes through the powerful field-glasses, we perceive that she is
coming toward us, and will probably cross our line. Larger and larger
she appears as she steadily advances, until she attracts the attention
of every one on deck. She is now quite close to us, and proves to be a
Barkentine under full sail. We shout a greeting to the crew, and wave
our handkerchiefs as she passes, and the sailors smile in return and
take off their caps.
[Illustration: "We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune." (_See page
16._)]
The ocean air is delightful and invigorating, the sky a perfect azure,
and the translucent waves with their foamy edges stretch away in long
beautiful curves. We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune, as the waters
plash softly over the steamer's sides, and we speed steadily forward,
with the rush and swish of the sea sounding in our ears with a wild
sweet melody all its own. To fall asleep on deck amid these charming
conditions is delightful indeed. But how quickly the scene changes.
Suddenly a shrill whistle from the Quartermaster summons all hands to
the deck. Orders are rapidly given in quick sharp tones: "Aloft. Take
sail in." "Aye, aye, sir," is the swift response, in a twinkling the
sure-footed sailors are up among the yards, perched in seemingly
impossible places, reefing the flapping sails in preparation for the
coming storm. Dark clouds above are reflected in gloomy waves below, and
heaving billows surround us, uniting with a furious wind that seems bent
on the destruction of our noble ship. The sailors in the rigging are
swaying to and fro, and the panic-stricken passengers in the cabins are
telling each other with pale faces that belie their words that they are
not afraid, for there is no danger; yet they listen anxiously for every
sound from above, and will not allow their dear ones to move beyond
reach of their hands. There is no music now in the rushing of the waves
or the flapping of the sails. Old Neptune in his angry moods is not a
desirable companion. But nothing lasts forever, and from storm and night
and black despair the flower of hope arises, for there comes a lull,
followed by a furious blinding onslaught, and then the spirit of the
hurricane calls his followers and flies up, away, somewhere beyond our
ken: the captain's face relaxes from its tense expression, and he looks
proudly around his good ship which has come out victor in the struggle
with the elements. One by one, the passengers appear on deck, the purple
clouds, after a final frown of disapproval at things in general, break
into smiles, life on shipboard resumes its everyday attitude, and all
goes "merry as a marriage bell." Life is full of contrasts. This is a
picture for which neither brush nor camera is ready. He who would paint
it must draw it from its recess in his memory, or from some sheltered
nook on shore, and be cool and calm enough to follow his favorite
occupation in spite of the consciousness that life and death are
struggling for mastery in yonder thrilling scene that will make him
famous if he can but truly portray it upon his canvas.
[Illustration: "She proves to be a Barkentine under full sail." (_See
page 16._)]
But there are many tableaux and picturesque situations here, very
tempting to the traveller who carries with him his sketch book or
camera, and I entertain my companions as well as myself by photographing
many a little group both comical and interesting in the world around us.
I invite our friends to the lower deck, where I wish to take pictures
of some of the steerage passengers. Amongst these are two typical
products of the British Isles--one a robust Irishman of shillalah fame,
and the other a bonny boy from Scotland. I make known to them my desire
to have their photographs, whereupon the quick witted Irishman, without
doubt knowing the quality of his face, which is one of the ugliest I
have ever seen, begins at once to bargain with me for the privilege of
transferring it to my camera. It is true I could have stolen a march on
him by a snap shot, and he been all unconscious of the act, but wishing
to keep up the comedy I asked at what price he values his face. He
replies that if I will take up a collection from the passengers around
us, he will accept that as full pay. My friends of the cabin enter into
the spirit of the play, and quite a goodly sum finds its way into the
horny hand of the Hibernian athlete, who now, with a broad smile of
satisfaction, intimates that he is ready to be "taken."
These pictures too join the gallery of our yesterdays. Swift has truly
said: "It is the talent of human nature to run from one extreme to
another." The long voyage is over, and all hearts rejoice in the sight
of land, and now we are upon the landing stage at Liverpool, amidst the
throng of excited passengers, all moving hither and thither in search of
baggage which seems hopelessly lost in the confusion of trunks, porters,
policemen, drays and ubiquitous small boys. This is a fine field for the
student of human nature. Here are groups of inexperienced travellers
looking anxiously about them, wondering how it is possible to extricate
their belongings from the indistinguishable mass before them, and
laboring under the dread that when found, a fierce and merciless
custom-house official will seize upon trunks and boxes, and deaf to all
protestations, dump the contents, from a shoe to a hat, upon the floor,
to the everlasting confusion of the owners and the amusement of the
spectators. The cool indifference of those who have crossed the ocean
many times is in marked contrast to these panic-stricken, and really
pitiable creatures.
[Illustration: "The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro." (See
page 19.)]
Then there is the "happy-go-lucky" youth, who finds all this tumult a
great joke, and who wanders carelessly about, with the serene confidence
that "things" will turn out all right; which they generally do. Here is
the fashionable mother with her pretty daughters who evince a charming
delight in everything that happens; the fussy mama who is sure that
her baggage has not come ashore, or that the officers of the
custom-house are in league against her; children separated from parents
or nurses, shrieking wildly in their terror, while others, more
venturesome and curious, are in every one's way. Porters elbow their way
through the crowd, cabmen shout in stentorian tones, policemen watch the
masses, and now and then in sharp curt tones call a delinquent to order.
A placid looking old gentleman with silvery hair and dignified demeanor
stands in the midst of a picturesque party of young people, evidently
his grandchildren. They all look so happy that it seems contagious, for
the troubled countenances of their neighbors break into sympathetic
smiles as they glance at this joyous family group. Every shade of human
expression may be observed in this motley throng, and he who has eyes to
see will find many a charming tableau, many a pathetic scene or
diverting situation that would enrich a sketch book, or prove a valuable
addition to the collection made by the ready camera. The various changes
of expression are worth studying, for where "luxuriant joy and pleasure
in excess" appear at one moment, the next may behold an angry frown, and
a struggle as if for life amid the surging tide of humanity.
"Now one's the better--then the other best
Both tugging to be victor, breast to breast
Yet neither conqueror, or is conquered."
Taking a small steamer which plies between Liverpool and New Brighton,
one may for a few cents, after a half hour's ride, land at an attractive
and much frequented watering-place upon the bank of the Mersey River,
opposite Liverpool. This resort is the pleasure-ground of the middle
classes, and is well worth a visit. Upon a holiday many thousands flock
to its shores which remind one of Vanity Fair, where numerous phases and
conditions of life are represented. Here is the indefatigable and
annoying travelling photographer with his "Four for a shilling. Take you
in two minutes. Ladies and gentlemen, step in and see the finest
pictures to be found in this country. Bridal groups a specialty."
[Illustration: "Amongst these are two typical products of the British
Isles." (_See page 23._)]
Here are games of all kinds, pony and donkey riding, and all the shows
to be found at the popular seashore resort. The "merry-go-round" is in
full swing, with a crowd of spectators, among them many wistful
children, watching the prancing camels and gaily caparisoned horses. The
music here is quite inspiring, and the numerous small boys and maidens
who lack the necessary pennies for this ravishing entertainment gaze
at their more fortunate companions with woe-begone countenances. Strains
less animated, but more melodious attract us to a fine dancing hall,
where the older lads and lasses are tripping about in a lively manner.
The light dresses, colored ribbons and happy faces make a pretty
picture. Along the beach are beautiful views, worthy of a master hand,
while out in the country the typical English houses with their massive
thatched roofs and lovely surroundings of trees, lawns and gardens fair,
cannot fail to captivate the artist's eyes.
A stroll through the streets and byways of Liverpool at night is a sad
but interesting experience. Alas for the misery and crime and want that
exist in all the great cities! Girls, young and pretty, but no longer
innocent, may be seen in scores in every locality: children with poverty
and depravity written on their faces boldly address one at the street
corners: men and women, with sharp, pinched features and misery and
despair in their voices, beseech one for alms, or with fierce cunning
lie in wait for the unwary. Sick at heart and with inexpressible pity we
wend our way from one point to another. Vice, crime, want, suffering
meet our eyes on every side: and the old hopeless cry: Why must these
things be? rises up again in our souls. Through the whole night long
upon the curb stones, at the corners, lounging against the windows and
doors of closed houses or shops, this lower stratum of life appears with
its atmosphere of dusky gloom. When the daylight dawns upon the city, it
seems to shrivel up and shrink into the mouths of the yawning black
cellars and foul alleys whose very breath is a deadly poison. There are
dozens of taverns scattered about the city, and within these rooms or
stalls are partitioned off where sin may be screened from public view,
for even those dyed deepest in crime sometimes fall so low that they
dare not carry on their nefarious operations in the face of their
everyday companions. These dens are countenanced by the authorities, and
one may find within them criminals of every grade who prey upon each
other for their sustenance: but in the long run, it is the proprietor
who comes out with a substantial bank account.
Beggars, peddlers, musicians, singers of both sexes, and itinerant
vendors of all kinds jostle each other in these haunts of sin, and great
caution should be exercised in visiting them, for in certain localities,
crimes of the most brutal character are of daily, I might say hourly
occurrence. I would suggest that the tourist should at such times
depend for safety upon the company of a first-class detective.
Let praise be given where it is due. The Salvationists of Europe have by
their indefatigable labors reclaimed thousands of these men and women
from their lives of sin and misery. You will meet these untiring workers
everywhere, exhorting, praying, pleading with fallen humanity. These
noble bands of Christians enter fearlessly the most loathsome hovels,
and, wrestling with filth and disease, in many cases come off
victorious. They have been known to wash the clothing and cleanse the
houses of fever-stricken families, and supply wholesome food and care
for helpless infants, defied at every step by a drunken son or father.
They fear nothing, knowing that their cause is God's cause, and that in
the end Almighty Goodness shall win an eternal conquest.
It is customary throughout England to close all the saloons on Sundays
until noon, after which time they open their doors, and remain open till
midnight as upon week-days.
Of the many cities whose haunts I have visited at night, I think that
without exception, unless it be London, Liverpool leads in depravity and
vice.
The country from Liverpool to Chester abounds in attractive scenery,
local in character and possessing the additional charm of novelty for
the American tourist. Along the route are scattered a number of old
taverns, such as "The Horn," "The Green Tree," and similar names.
Dismounting from bicycle or trap, the traveller who enters one of these
ancient landmarks will find everything in "apple pie order": the floor
clean and shining like a bright new dollar just launched from the mint.
He will sit at a table within one of the three stalls on either side of
the little room, and the landlord's wife will bring him a bumper of
"good auld Al," the effect of which will prove lasting and beneficial,
if it corresponds with my experience.
[Illustration: "This is a fine field for the student of human nature."
(_See page 24._)]
Chester, oldest of English cities, is full of quaint residences and
other ancient buildings. The old wall which surrounds the town is the
only one in Great Britain which has been preserved entire. It forms a
continuous ring, although in some places the earth has climbed so far
above its base, that it appears no higher than a terrace. Its rugged
outer parapet is still complete, and the wide flagging forms a
delightful promenade, with a fine view of the surrounding country. The
earliest date which we find upon the wall is A. D. 61, when it was
erected by the Romans. Twelve years later, Marius, king of the
Britons, extended the wall. The Britons were defeated under it in 607,
and after a lapse of three centuries, it was rebuilt by the daughter of
Alfred the Great. It has a long and eventful history, and the old
Cathedral whose edge it skirts, is one of the largest and most ancient
in England. The sculptures in this magnificent edifice are worn smooth
by the hand of time. The stained glass windows are marvels of art, the
groined arches, dreamy cloisters, and antique carving upon seats and
pews fill one with admiration mingled with awe. There are many fine
mosaics here, and specimens of wood from the Holy Land. Costly gems
adorn the choir; here too is a Bible whose cover is inlaid with precious
stones. The massive Gothic pillars are still in a perfect state of
preservation, as well as the numerous ancient monuments and relics of
the past. The vast size of the Cathedral is a perpetual source of wonder
to the stranger, who, wandering among its curious historic mementos,
gazing upon its storied nave, transepts and choir, and upon the Bible
scenes pictured in these glorious windows, feels that he has been
transported by some magician's hand into an age long buried in the past.
The Cathedral is said to have been founded in the year 200. Its height
within, from floor to the lofty dome lighted by these exquisite windows
is from sixty to one hundred feet. The Church of St. John the Baptist
rivals the Cathedral in antiquity, but it is now a picturesque ruin
covered with moss and ivy.
Chester itself contains many antiquities that are to be found nowhere
else in the world. The houses, dating back to 1500, or even earlier, are
of every degree of shade and color, with little windows with
diamond-shaped panes, and gable ends facing the streets whose sidewalks
are on a level with the second stories. Everything here seems to belong
to the past, excepting the fine, modern station, ten hundred and fifty
feet long, with its projecting iron roofed wings for the protection of
vehicles waiting for passengers from the trains. This station is one of
the longest in England. The famous Chester Rows are public passages
running through the second stories of the houses facing the four
principal streets. These arcades are reached by flights of steps at the
corners of the streets, and contain some very attractive shops. The old
timber-built houses of Chester with their curious inscriptions are all
preserved in their original ancient style, and nowhere in England can
the artist or photographer find a more interesting spot, or one
richer in ancient and mediaeval relics than this little town.
[Illustration: "Wayside Inn, New Brighton." (_See page 31._)]
The quaint old taverns carry one back, back, to the life of the past.
Drop in at the Bear & Billet Inn some day, or The Falcon Inn, and yield
yourself up to the charming mediaeval atmosphere of the place. Seat
yourself at the little table beside the window, and look out upon the
same scene which your English ancestors looked upon more than two
hundred years ago. The landlord's wife will bring you a foaming tankard
of ale. It is the same tankard from which your forefathers quenched
their thirst, and if you are of a contented, philosophical temperament,
you will experience the same comfort and enjoyment as they, in this
truly English beverage. If you are not fired with enthusiasm by this
old-time picture, wend your way to the banks of the River Dee, where you
may paint the greens in every variety of light and shade, with one of
the picturesque old farmhouses which abound here in the foreground, and
some "blooded" cattle resting quietly beneath the wide-spreading
branches of the trees. Or here is the single wide arch of Grosvenor
Bridge crossing the river, with a span of two hundred feet. This is one
of the largest stone arches in Europe. Or here is a bit of the old wall
skirting the water, and the charming picture of the Old Bridge, which
dates back to the thirteenth century; and here too are the vast mills of
the Dee, associated with the history and traditions of eight hundred
years. With its surrounding country, and the succession of lovely
gardens bordering the Dee, surely Chester is one of the choice spots in
England for the lover of the quaint and beautiful. Within the pretty
residences of the suburbs may be found all the comforts and recreations
of a happy prosperous family life, united with genuine English
hospitality, and a cordial welcome for the stranger. The owner of one of
these charming homes orders up his cart, and insists upon taking us for
a drive through this delightful locality, and for miles and miles our
hearts and eyes are captivated by lovely landscapes and enchanting bits
of scenery. We wind up with a cup of good hot tea, thinly cut buttered
bread, and other dainties.
[Illustration: "Typical English houses with their massive thatched
roofs." (_See page 31._)]
A decided change from the ancient and mediaeval associations of Chester
is the prosperous city of Leamington, a watering-place situated on the
Leam River, a tributary of the Avon. The natural mineral springs
discovered here in 1797 have proved the source of great benefit to this
town, as the springs are highly recommended by physicians, and many
invalids resort thither. But as health is not our object in coming,
we do not follow the popular custom, but proceeding to the banks of the
River Leam, engage one of the many small boats which may be hired, and
drift leisurely down the stream with the current, revelling in the
wealth of beauty which surrounds us. Hundreds of lovely nooks disclose
themselves to our eager eyes--typical English scenes--and as we float
along life assumes an ideal aspect under the witchery of this
picturesque river. Here are old farmhouses in the foreground, with their
richly cultivated fields stretching away for hundreds of acres, and here
are velvet lawns, with their dainty high-bred air, surrounding noble
homes, stately and silent. Now a group of merry children dance about the
water side, and a great Newfoundland dog dashes wildly into the stream
after a ball or stick, swimming gallantly out until he seizes his prize.
How the children scream and run away as he rushes joyously up to them,
shaking the spray over their dresses and into their faces. Oh fair River
Leam! these lofty elms and giant oaks that look down upon your waters
love you, and we too, strangers from a foreign shore, here yield our
tribute of loving praise for the happy hours we owe to you, lingering
often, reluctant to leave some especially charming spot where the
branches of the trees overhang the stream, and touch our faces with
soft caressing fingers.
"Nature was here so lavish of her store,
That she bestowed until she had no more."
This scene too fades as we board one of the many tram-cars, and in a few
moments are carried to the very gateway of the world-renowned Warwick
Castle, which occupies a commanding position, overlooking the Avon. This
ancient pile is artistically poised, and presents grand effects of
color, light and shade. Upon the payment of a shilling for each person,
the massive iron doors which for centuries have guarded this stately and
historic stronghold, open as if by magic, and a passageway cut through
the solid rock leads us to an open space, where we have a fine view of
the magnificent round towers and embattled walls. A visit of two hours
gives us opportunity to climb to the top of the ancient towers which for
ages have loomed up as monuments of power and defiance in the face of
the enemy. We are impressed with the vast size of the castle. The view
from the towers and the windows is beautiful and romantic. In the
spacious courtyard there are magnificent old trees and soft velvety
turf, and the hand of time has colored towers and battlements a rich
brown hue that blends harmoniously with the ivy creeping in and out
wherever it can find a place.
[Illustration: "Suburban residence." (_See page 42._)]
The gardens slope down to the Avon, from whose banks there is a
picturesque view of the river front of the castle, and here as well as
in the park we see some fine old cedars of Lebanon, brought from the
East by the Warwick Crusaders. In the main castle we enter a number of
the apartments which are furnished in a style of regal splendor. The
Great Entrance Hall, sixty two feet long and forty wide, is rich in dark
old oak wainscoting, and curious ancient armor; and shields and coronets
of the earls of many generations, as well as the "Bear and Ragged
Staff," of Robert Dudley's crest are carved upon its Gothic ceiling. The
Gilt Drawing-room contains a rare collection of the masterpieces of
great artists. This room is so called from the richly gilded panels
which cover its walls and ceiling. In the Cedar Drawing-room are
wonderful antique vases, furniture and other curios, which would well
repay a much longer inspection than we can give them. But all the rooms
in this magnificent old feudal castle are filled with the finest
specimens of works of ancient art in every line. The paintings alone
fill us with despair, for they line the walls in close succession, and
the artists' names are Murillo, Rubens, Rembrandt, Vandyke, Sir Peter
Lely, Guido, Andrea del Sarto, and many others of like celebrity. What
an opportunity for those who have the time to linger in this atmosphere
of lofty genius!
Many beautiful old shade trees surround the castle, and the restful
silence inspires one with the desire to be alone and yield himself up to
the spirit of the place, hallowed by such wealth of associations and the
presence of immortal art.
A short distance from the castle, and outside the Warwick enclosure,
stands an old mill upon the bank of the Avon. This ancient and
picturesque structure was originally built for the purpose of grinding
wheat, but the all-observing eye of the artist quickly discovered in it
a mission of a higher order, and for years it has posed as the central
figure in the romantic landscapes portrayed by the brush of the painter
or the camera of the photographer.
Taking a drag and driving through Kenilworth, Coventry and Stoneleigh,
will give one delightful views of some of the most beautiful portions of
England. The roads are macadamized, and in good condition. This is a
fine farming country, and here we see the typical English farmhouses,
built of brick and stone, surrounded by well-cultivated fields,
stretching away into a peacefully smiling landscape. The fields are
separated by green hedges, and the whole scene is one that can hardly be
surpassed throughout "Merrie England."
From these lovely quiet homes, we pass through roads bordered with wild
flowers to the ruins of one of the most magnificent castles in Great
Britain. It is hardly necessary to say that Kenilworth is inseparably
associated with Sir Walter Scott, and his graphic descriptions of the
scenes and events that have taken place here in the days of its glory.
This castle, one of the finest and most extensive baronial ruins in
England, dates back to about 1120 A. D. It covered an area of seven
acres, but is now a mass of ivy-covered ruins, from which one can form
but a faint idea of its appearance in the height of its prosperity. Yet
the hand of nature has invested it with another kind of beauty, and in
place of the pomp and majesty of power, the brilliant pageants of the
court of Queen Elizabeth, we behold the clinging robe of ivy, the
daylight illuminating the gallery tower in place of the hundreds of wax
torches which flashed their lights upon the royal cavalcade, and a
little country road where once a stately avenue led to the tower, and
listened to the court secrets, lovers' vows and merry badinage uttered
within its shades. The castle has passed through many changes, and
experienced stormy days as well as those of prosperity and luxury, but
the pen of Scott has immortalized it on the summit of its glory, and
though the ages may cast their blight upon its visible form, it will
ever live in the soul of the artist, the poet, the lover of beauty, as a
scene of splendor, of sorrowful tragedy, of magnificent design.
But a few steps beyond the Kenilworth grounds is an old English inn--The
King's Arms. It is so picturesque and romantic-looking, that I feel like
rechristening it: "The Entire Royal Family."
Let us enter its hospitable doors and enjoy its old-time atmosphere and
many curious attractions. Here the artist is in his element, for on
every side are quaint corners, cozy nooks, and relics for which the
lover of the antique would give a fortune; while outside the windows the
beautiful English landscape beams upon one with inviting smiles. The
landlady, with her cheerful bustling air and broad accent, imparts a
pleasant thrill of anticipation, which is more than realized upon the
appearance of the savory chops,--grown on the neighboring hillside,
whose rich green pasturage is a guarantee for the flavor and quality of
the meat,--the delicious hot cakes, and the unfailing tankard, or if
one prefers it, the cup of fragrant tea. And so we sit and refresh the
inner man, while the soul revels in the world of beauty around us, and
picture after picture passes before the mental vision, connecting these
scenes with famous historic characters, or wonderful events of legendary
lore. So lovely are these views, that one could gaze for hours, and
never weary of the "living jewels dropp'd unstained from heaven," for
this picturesque country possesses a peculiar freshness, as though free
from the touch of care and the hand of time, like the fair maiden who
has received from the fountain of youth the gift of eternal life and
beauty.
Lights and Shadows of London Life.
_Lights and Shadows of London Life._
The Shadow Side--The Slums--The City by Night--Vice and
Misery--"Chinese Johnson's" Opium Den--The "Bunco" Man--An English
Guard--"The Grand Old Man"--Caution to Tourists--Great Cities by
Night--The Seven Dials--Derby Day--The Tally-Ho--Old Robin Hood
Inn--Epsom Hill--The Races--Exciting Scenes--Side Shows--The Close of
the Day.
As nature derives much of its charm from the intermingling of light and
shade, so in life there are many scenes of sharp contrast, and we often
have a deeper appreciation of its beauties after beholding the reverse
side of the picture. Some one has said: "In actions of life, who seeth
not the filthiness of evil, wanteth a great foil to perceive the beauty
of virtue."
What better opportunity of studying this phase of life can there be,
than in the faces of those whose existence is passed amid associations
of suffering, want and crime; who not only witness, but experience all
these in their different shades and degrees.
Take with me a walk through the worst portions of the greatest
metropolis in the world, and observe a few of the pictures in the
localities where humanity is born and nourished in misery, filth and
sin. Guarded by three of England's best paid detectives, I follow
closely in their footsteps, not daring to speak lest I rouse in his lair
the slumbering lion of passion and revenge. From street to street we
pass, viewing the wretched tenements, and more wretched inmates huddling
together over a faint spark of fire, or vainly trying to impart to their
little ones some of the natural warmth which still exists in their
bodies, in spite of hunger, cold and fatigue. The crumbs from the tables
of the rich would be a lavish feast to these poor creatures. Clean water
is as great a stranger to their stomachs as to their bodies; loathsome
rags cover their emaciated forms, and the destroyer drink has left his
signet upon their countenances. A little farther on is the vile dance
house into which the inhabitants of this neighborhood crawl for the
lowest stage of their degradation. A motley throng is assembled here,
and the sound of a violin mingles with shrill laughter and drunken
oaths.
I am guarded so carefully that many times I am hurried away from a scene
more quickly than I wish, the officers fearing that our presence may
create a disturbance among these reckless characters. We enter a low
saloon in a cellar dimly lighted by an old oil lamp: the atmosphere is
gruesome, and one of the detectives warns me that the men who frequent
this haunt are desperate fellows who would not hesitate to stab me for
the sake of my clothing. Old and grizzled habitues line reeking walls,
with depravity written upon every countenance, and I fully realize that
my life would not be worth a moment's purchase here should my attendants
forsake me.
Now we are in a long narrow alley, as black as Erebus, which gives one
the feeling of being in a subterranean passage upon some mysterious
mission. In a few minutes a light appears ahead--a dull glimmering
bluish light, like that which is supposed to hover above graveyards--and
we pause in front of a small frame house of two stories. A knock upon
the door brings to the threshold a little dried up, wizened Chinaman,
made feeble by long dissipation, who in his broken language makes us
welcome. The place is "Chinese Johnson's" opium den. How can I describe
the scene that is before me? In this room are many small dirty cots
filled with unconscious human beings, willing victims of the pernicious
drug--a loathsome spectacle--and here on a small couch sits the
proprietor of the establishment. This is his throne of state, and here
he can smoke with impunity the deadly drug, which has no perceptible
effect upon his depraved body. We are glad to end this experience and
banish from our minds the unattractive picture of the Chinaman in his
elysian fields.
We are not the only ones who have the privilege of viewing these scenes.
Any one who desires and possesses the necessary courage may invade the
haunts and dens of the lower world, and be profited by the lessons here
learned; but he must exercise great caution. The studies are not only
for the brush and camera: they are food for the thoughtful mind which
can apply the wisdom thus gained, and seek in these conditions for the
solution of knotty problems. One can better appreciate, by reason of
this contrast, the blessings of his own life; of purity, honesty and
contentment as opposed to ignorance, poverty and vice.