in London I went to the “booking office,” and “booked for Liverpool.”
There is no conductor, but a “guard,” who is conductor, brakeman and
porter combined. Freight trains are “goods trains.” The engineer is a
“driver.” Baggage is “luggage.” A grip is a “bag,” a trunk is a “box,”
and anything is a “parcel.” Nobody calls the stations. When you reach
your destination you get off, and if you are a stranger you are always
in trouble wondering whether or not you have gone past. I have never
learned the theory of their tickets. When I “book” I get a ticket about
like ours. Often no one looks at it or takes it up until I leave the
station at the end of the trip. We rode one day in Italy nearly all day
before anybody looked at our tickets, although usually it is necessary
to show them to get on the station platform. It would seem as if such
carelessness would be taken advantage of, but it does not seem to be.
One reason probably is that in every country it is a crime to ride on
a railroad train without a ticket. In America if the conductor catches
you riding without a ticket he collects the fare. In Europe he can
send you to jail, and I don’t doubt but he would. In America it is not
considered even bad morals to beat a railroad. In Europe it is a felony.
I had been told that railroad traveling is cheaper in Europe than in
America, but it is not. To understand railroad rates you must remember
that population is very dense and traffic heavy, much like suburban
travel around New York or Chicago. England is not near as large as
Kansas, but it has twenty times our population. Practically all of the
travel is short-distance. The same conditions prevail on the continent.
You can ride third-class, second-class, or first-class. In most
countries third-class is a good deal like riding in American box-cars
fitted up with seats. That costs about two cents a mile. Second-class
means cars such as I have described with upholstered seats, and the
price is close to three cents a mile. First-class means plush or
leather and a guarantee that your traveling companions will be nobility
or Americans or fools. The first-class rate is about four cents. In
most European countries no baggage is carried free. You pay extra for
fast trains, “corridor trains,” and for the use of toilet-rooms. In
order to travel in clean company and in ordinary decent style, after
you count in your “extras,” the railroad fare is just about the same
in Europe as in America, and not as cheap as it is on similar trains
in the populous sections of our country. In the stations there are
separate waiting-rooms and separate lunch-counters for first, second
and third-class passengers. The high-class European can eat his lunch
with the happy thought that no rude third-class citizen is on the next
stool.
[Illustration]
But if the European railroads do not do much for the comfort and
pleasure of the passengers, they are away ahead of our railroads when
it comes to providing for their safety. Accidents are not unknown,
but they are rare, especially in comparison with the frightful wrecks
which take place in the United States. Nearly every railroad is
double-tracked or has three or four tracks. The roadbeds are near to
perfection. Bridges are of stone. Rails are not so heavy, but are
stronger when the light cars are considered. And every mile of European
track is patrolled day and night. They use a half-dozen section-men
and track-walkers where we would have one or two, and they pay the
half-dozen wages that aggregate about as much as the one or two. In
Italy the track-walkers are usually women, and it was a funny sight
to see the Dago lady stand with a red flag at “present arms” when the
train passed. Most crossings are overhead or under, very rarely on
grade. Embankments are built of stone instead of mud, and the roadbeds
are constructed for centuries, instead of being just sufficient to
“earn the bonds.” I was in England when an accident occurred on a
railroad, and the next day the matter was brought up in parliament and
the government was asked what it was doing to prevent a recurrence
of such a thing. Just as the government protects the railroads from
beats it regulates their conduct for the safety of the traveler. In
some European countries, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland and Italy,
the government owns the important railroads, but in all of them it
exercises a strong control. If a European railroad would attempt to
operate a line like some of the jerkwater branches in Kansas, the
directors would be in jail. The result is that many of the conveniences
are sacrificed to rigid rules and the lives and limbs of the passengers
are not in near as much danger as in the United States, where
competition has gone in for comfortable cars and often neglected the
track. While the Europeans might copy some of our methods, our railroad
officials could get some information in the Old World that would save
them lots of wrecks and make their passengers more secure in their life
and health while traveling in the palatial cars.
[Illustration]
As the European does not travel long distances and has to pay extra for
his baggage, he rarely takes anything but hand-luggage. All through
Europe we have journeyed for three months, carrying all of our baggage
in the car with us. When we reached a station where we were to stop
there was always a porter on hand to carry our half-dozen grips and
bags, and for five or ten cents put them safely in the carriage that
would take us to the hotel to the hotel for a quarter. During the three
months I don’t think I carried my grip three times. There is always a
man standing around ready to do such work so cheaply that nobody thinks
of carrying his own grips even across a station platform. If you have
a trunk it is put in a box-car on the end of the train, and at your
destination you go and get it at once. There are no baggage-checks, and
you wonder the trunks do not get lost. But they don’t.
[Illustration]
The station-master always wears a fine uniform, and in most countries
he is a sort of military officer. When the time for departure arrives
he rings a bell or blows a whistle. The guards close the car-doors.
Then the station-master whistles again and the train starts, the
station-master saluting. The engine does not whistle or ring a bell.
The conductor does not yell “All aboard!” The station-master is the
whole thing. He is an autocrat and has entire control of the train in
station.
Trains are rarely late in Europe. The schedule is maintained regardless
of connections, and therefore connections are usually made. The
railroad rules have the same weight as laws and are observed as such.
Railroad employés are polite. When a porter starts down a platform with
a barrow of luggage he does not try to run over people, or yell “Get
out of the way!” as in America. He goes slowly and calls out “Make way,
if you please.” Baggagemen do not try to break the trunks, and will
answer civilly when you ask questions. Some of these European ways are
not so bad.
Summed up, these are my impressions of European railroads: Cars small,
uncomfortable, unsanitary; road-bed fine and management good; prices
about the same as in America, and chance of getting to your destination
much better.
A passenger train with the long line of little light coaches is put
over the rails very rapidly in Europe if they wish. Many regular trains
make fifty and sixty miles an hour. The ordinary trains which stop
frequently and carry the third-class cars principally, are slow. A
freight car, called a “goods van,” is about the size of a dray. There
are not many box-cars, but the goods are packed on the open drays and
covered with tarpaulins. The effect is about like a thresher engine
pulling a lot of four-wheel wagons and drays. It looks “dinky” and is a
cause of merriment for Americans. But the Englishman retorts with some
reference to an American railroad wreck and we shut up. I have learned
this summer that while the United States is the greatest country on
earth, it can still learn lessons from the slow-but-sure-going English,
the sturdy Germans and the energetic French. One of these lessons
is that fast trains and fine cars ought to be supplemented by solid
roadbeds and careful watching.
A New York clothing merchant was showing a customer some suits. The
man tried on a coat and vest, and when the merchant turned his back
he bolted out of the door. The store-keeper yelled “Stop thief!” and
called the police. All joined in the pursuit. The policeman drew his
revolver and began to fire at the fugitive. “Shoot him in the pants!”
screamed the merchant, “shoot him in the pants: the coat and vest are
mine.”
So when we begin to fire at the defects of railroading in the various
countries I have to beg the shootist to shoot at the pants, the coat
and vest and some of the faults are our own.
THE TIME TO QUIT.
LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND, Aug. 24, 1905.
To-morrow we will finish the job of seeing Europe and sail for home.
Just to be sure that we would not miss the boat, we came to Liverpool
two days in advance. When an American is on his first long stay in a
foreign country and the time grows near when he is to return once more
to the land and the people he loves, he knows now that he loved them
if never before. Strange scenes are no longer interesting, castles,
cathedrals and curious costumes are tiresome, and the only thoughts
are of the folks at home. Even a man who is ordinarily cynical and
unsentimental finds his heart beating faster as the hours drag slowly
by waiting for the time of departure. It would be a great relief if
one could walk ahead and be overtaken, but the walking is not good in
the Atlantic this season, so we are painfully killing time and going
through the motions of sight-seeing while “waiting for the train,”
or rather for the boat, which happens to be the White Star steamship
Republic.
[Illustration]
On the way here we spent a day in the town of Oxford. Everybody has
read more or less of the great university and its student life. Of
course this is vacation-time and the colleges are practically deserted,
but we wandered through the buildings and quadrangles and enjoyed
the walks and quaint streets. The phrase “classic shades” might well
have originated here, for the great trees hundreds of years old, the
ivy-covered walls and towers, the inclosed courts and the low-ceiled
halls and rooms, all make for a peaceful repose that forms a charming
setting for the intellectual life which ordinarily fills the place.
There are twenty-one colleges in Oxford, each large in size and
impressive in architecture. The style is a quadrangle with a large
court or “quad” within, on which the students’ rooms face, and usually
covered with grass and filled with stately trees. Each college has from
100 to 300 students, and the attendance at the whole university is over
3,000. The “young gentlemen,” as Oxford students are called, reside in
the college buildings, and each has a bedroom and sitting-room. Meals
are either served in the rooms or in the large dining-hall. There are
no recitations, and not many lectures. Much of the studying is done
with tutors. The intellectual effort of the student is to acquire
sufficient knowledge from lectures, tutors and books to pass the
examinations. The chief courses of study are the ancient languages,
philosophy, mathematics, history, and either theology, law, medicine,
or natural science. The range is not near so large as in America and
they do not go so much on what we call “practical studies.” On the
side the men do good work in rowing and cricket, and have all the fun
of American students, even if they are supposed to be in and with the
gates locked every night at 9 o’clock.
The history of Oxford University dates back to Alfred the Great, but
the first authentic accounts of the work are of the twelfth century.
All learning was then in the hands of the church, and the first
colleges were primarily for the education of priests. Kings, queens
and bishops, interested in learning, established first one college and
then another, so that by the thirteenth century Oxford ranked with the
most important universities in Europe; and then, as education extended
to other professions, the colleges widened their courses of study,
and the government, while still ecclesiastical in form, became broad
and liberal. The colleges have large endowments, plenty of money, and
Oxford and Cambridge have educated most of the great men of England in
the last 500 years.
[Illustration]
Liverpool is a good deal like a big American city. A hundred years ago
it was a small town, but by taking the lead in American trade it has
become the most important port of Great Britain, and, counting suburbs,
has nearly a million population. Its harbor is a deep river, the
Mersey, and the banks are solid walls of wharves, docks and wholesale
buildings. It is a relief to strike a town where you go to see bridges
and factories instead of churches and art galleries. Liverpool is a
good place in which to taper off from the old and the curious to the
useful and the active. In our hotel here we have electric lights,
bathrooms, and an elevator that works. Hotels where you go to bed by
candlelight, bathe in a little tub, and walk up four flights of narrow
stairs, are interesting and comfortable, but they are better for a
three months’ stay than for a steady diet. Nearly every guest at this,
the biggest hotel in Liverpool, is an American who is getting anxious.
[Illustration]
One of the subjects in which I have taken an interest on this trip has
been that of the prices of products and labor, comparing them with
those at home. I have referred to it frequently, but perhaps a summary
will interest the practical American who wants to know “what it costs.”
In the beginning I want to say I have not yet found a place where
“things are cheap,” according to the American standard. The ordinary
people in Europe get along with things that are cheaper than in America
and they do without others, so their cost of living is not so high. The
ordinary artisan or mechanic in Europe will live with his family in
two or three rooms poorly lighted, ventilated and uninviting. His rent
is therefore cheaper than the American mechanic who occupies a little
house of his own and has a front yard or a porch. The European mechanic
will have meat to eat once a week or once a day, and he and his family
will live on what a great many Americans waste—they have to. Therefore
he lives more cheaply, and so can an American who puts himself and his
family on a diet of soup, potatoes, carrots and turnips. The ordinary
European mechanic is assisted in earning a living by his wife and all
of his children, while the ordinary American mechanic only expects
his wife to do the housework and look after the little ones, and
his children are at school until they are nearly ready to work for
themselves. The American mechanic will make from $2 to $5 a day, while
the European will get from 50 cents to $1.50.
Clothing is cheaper in Europe, and there is none ready made. The family
either is wealthy enough to have tailors and dressmakers or makes
its own. A tailor will get $1 a day wages, a seamstress 25 cents a
day. A “hired girl” gets from a dollar a month to a dollar a week, so
if a European has money enough he can have servants—but he doesn’t
have them, and his wife and children work out. They don’t do this
spasmodically, or in hard times, but customarily and ordinarily, just
as their parents did before them and their children will do after them.
Shoes are more expensive in Europe, and not so good. Cotton goods, such
as shirts, underwear, etc., are as high or higher. Silk goods, kid
gloves and perfumery are much cheaper than in America. The grades of
clothing, etc., are different. In Europe the people use ugly and coarse
stuff such as our people never use. Groceries are at least as high in
Europe as in America. Meat is higher. You can get a “square meal” in
the ordinary American small town for a quarter. You can’t do it in
Europe, but you can get some soup and bread and carrots for ten cents.
The ordinary American workingman figures that by working hard, being
economical and having a careful family, he can save enough to be
comfortable, educate his children and give them as good a chance as
anybody in town. The ordinary European workingman figures that by
working hard, being economical and having all his family at work he
can escape the poor-house, and his children can have the same chance he
has had.
Of course the best prices are paid in the big cities, as in our
country, and I will illustrate by some of my own experiences.
In London at one of the finest shops I had my hair cut and shampooed.
It cost me 12 cents American money, and in Hutchinson would have cost
me 50 cents, in New York at least 65 cents. The barber told me that
most English workingmen could not afford to pay 6 cents (or 4 cents in
a plain shop) and therefore cut their own hair.
I could have had a tailor make a suit in London for $12 or $15 that
would cost me $30 in Hutchinson or $40 in Kansas City. The American
tailor can figure out how it is done. But here is a thing that
pleased me: The swell shops in London advertise “American tailoring.”
A European tailor sews beautifully, but he can’t fit. The wealthy
Englishmen wear clothes that would make a tasteful American have fits.
Americans are the best dressed people in the world, and American
tailors are considered the best everywhere.
I could live in a hotel cheaper in Europe. The hotel-keeper here pays
his men from $6 to $10 a month and his chambermaids and female help
from $1 to $3 a month. His meat and groceries cost as much or more than
they would in America, but he works them more economically. The main
difference is in the “help.”
[Illustration: EUROPEAN CLASS DISTINCTION.
“_Big fleas have little fleas
Upon their backs to bite ’em,
And the little fleas have other fleas,
And so on, ad infinitum._”
]
In women’s wares, silks, embroideries, laces and sewing are cheaper
in Europe. Cotton goods, shoes and ordinary clothes are higher.
“Things” are just as high in Europe, people and their labor are cheaper.
[Illustration]
England is the natural friend and business competitor of America. There
is a marked difference in methods and ways. An Englishman will hold
fast to the old and only accept improvements and changes when he is
forced to or when he has fully decided they are best. In America we
usually think a change is a good thing, and will prefer something new
to the old just because it is new, when it may actually not be as good.
These are differences in temperament which have their advantages and
disadvantages. We could learn from the English and they from us, and a
half-way compromise would undoubtedly work best.
[Illustration]
The class distinctions are the most unpleasant feature of English life.
An American friend was telling me of an incident which illustrates it.
He was visiting a wealthy English family, and during his stay had a
long and pleasant talk with the gardener. He went away, and afterward
came back for another visit. He told his host that he wanted to see the
gardener and ask about some shrubs. “Very well,” said the host; “but
you won’t mind if I suggest one thing to you. Don’t call the gardener
‘Mr. Johnson.’ Just call him Johnson. We never speak to a servant
as ‘Mr.’” That was not snobbery in England. The host was a kind and
intelligent Englishman. It is the custom of the country. The custom
goes on down the line. The butler would not associate on equal terms
with the footman or the footman with the porter. And the host of my
friend would take off his hat to the good-for-nothing son of an earl,
who in turn would not presume to approach a prince unless requested. It
reminds me of the poem:
“Big fleas have little fleas
Upon their backs to bite ’em,
And the little fleas have other fleas,
And so on, ad infinitum.”
It is funny, but it is sickening to an American who knows that in his
country the son of the gardener may be President and the son of the
President may be a gardener and either of them may be a gentleman if he
is honest and straight and decent.
[Illustration]
A thought which comes to me very strongly is that a little visiting in
other countries not only makes a man a better American, but it gives
him the knowledge that there are other bright, smart and able people
besides those in the United States. The competition in this world is
keen, and every country has its advantages and its disadvantages, its
weak points and its strong points. There is no profit in belittling the
other fellow. If I have dwelt most upon the differences between America
and England, it is because they are the interesting things. There is no
interest in what is the same at home and here. The English are a great
people. A little country not as big as Kansas really dominates the
financial and political world. Out of the false notions of medieval
times they have built up constitutional liberty and have conferred its
blessings upon others. England is the greatest commercial power on
earth, and it is so because of Englishmen and not because of natural
advantages or favored position. It is old and interesting, wealthy and
powerful. It is good to look upon and pleasant to visit. But as for me,
I am with the Kansan who wrote:
“I’ve been off on a journey—just got home to-day.
I’ve traveled north, and south, and east, and every other way.
I’ve seen a heap of country, and cities on the boom,
But I want to be in Kansas, where the sunflowers bloom.”
[Illustration]
Transcriber’s Notes
Page 67 — insured changed to ensured.
Page 107 — ’lAmerica changed to l’America.
Page 139 — passed changed to past.
Page 152 — metroplis changed to metropolis.
Page 152 — taking changed to talking.
Page 168 — sursounded changed to surrounded.
Page 191 — vinevards changed to vineyards.
Page 201 — removed the extra word ‘one’.
Page 240 — Britian changed to Britain.
Page 277 — jaye changed to have.