Round the World
by
Andrew Carnegie
Part 5 out of 5
famous Alexandrian Library, in which lay stored the most precious
treasures of the world. Had it escaped destruction, how many
questions which have vexed scholars would never have arisen, and
how much ground which it has been necessary for genius to
reconquer would have come to us as our heritage!
The Cleopatra's Needle now in New York, the counterpart of the one
in London, was still in Alexandria when we were there. Seventeen
hundred years before Christ this huge monolith, which is cut out
of solid rock, was erected at Heliopolis, and it was transported
thence several hundred miles to its present site. It measures
sixty-eight feet in height, and is not less than eight feet square
at its base--one solid shaft of granite; but this is exceeded by
the one still at Thebes, which is a hundred feet high. It struck
me as a notable coincidence that the ingenious Frenchman who first
proved the truth of the supposed hieroglyphic alphabet should have
done so by assuming that the name repeated so frequently upon a
certain stone extolling the virtues of Ptolemy Soter, must be that
of the famous Cleopatra, and so it proved. Thus this extraordinary
woman, who filled the world with her name during her life, and for
centuries after, once more renews her tenure by linking herself
with the world's history two thousand years after her death.
The museum in Cairo is said to comprise more Egyptian antiquities
than are possessed in the world besides. It is filled with
mummies, sarcophagi, jewelry, coins and statues, one wooden statue
shown being no less than four thousand six hundred years old.
Anything less than five thousand years of age one gets to consider
rather too modern to suit his taste. Upon some of the lids of the
tombs the inscriptions are as fresh as if cut yesterday. Egypt
furnishes the earliest records of our race, because the dry sands
of the desert on each side of the Nile, blowing over the cities of
the past until these were completely buried, hermetically sealed
them, and this preserved them from decay, and would have done so
for ages yet to come. Is it any wonder that this narrow strip,
filled with buried cities, should have given rise to a body of men
who devote themselves to the search for rich spoils of the past
and to deciphering the inscriptions? You meet occasionally an
Egyptologist, and seem to know him instinctively.
But grand as is Egypt's past, and varied as her fortunes have
been, it may surely be said that never during all her misfortunes
has she occupied a position as deplorable as that which saddens
the traveller of today. If any one wants to see what personal rule
in its fullest development is capable of producing, let him visit
Egypt. The condition of its finances is notorious, but we did not
expect to witness such convincing proofs of insolvency.
The Khedive has been maintaining a standing army of sixty thousand
men, but it has not been paid for more than two years.
Retrenchment having been insisted upon by England and France, it
was resolved to reduce the force to some eight thousand, and
orders of dismissal were accordingly issued. But about two hundred
officers who were in Cairo and had not yet been paid, entered the
Prime Minister's chambers a few days before our arrival in the
city, clamoring for their dues, and refused to leave until paid.
Some slight violence was even used toward that functionary, and
the English agent, who came manfully to his assistance, was
roughly pushed about. It was finally arranged to pay all dismissed
soldiers two months of their arrears. The train upon which we
travelled from Cairo carried many of these men to their homes.
While the army is not paid, we see on every hand unmistakable
proofs of the Khedive's reckless personal extravagance. Here lies
his grand steam yacht rotting in the harbor. In the station we
noticed the imperial cars stowed away; on the river his large
summer boat; and every other remarkably fine house in Cairo seemed
to be one or another of the Khedive's palaces or harems. The man
does not seem to have had the faintest idea of what was due to his
country, or, even worse, what was due to himself. But take the
greatest and best man in the world, surround him by people who
assure him morn, noon and night that he differs from other men,
and has a born right to their obedience--make a khedive, or czar,
or king out of him--if kind nature has not made a fool of him at
the start, men will do it, and if he has brains, brutality will
soon be added to his folly. If he hasn't brains, then he becomes
the fool pure and simple. George Washington himself would have
been spoiled by royal notions in less than six months--good as he
was and sound republican to boot.
One becomes indignant with a people so supine as to endure such
waste and oppression. Everything is taxed, and the masses of the
people are ground down to the lowest stage compatible with mere
animal existence. England and France have been compelled recently
to take strong measures in order to prevent impending ruin. The
Khedive not long since dismissed the only one of his ministers who
seemed to comprehend the state of affairs, but I see the faint
remonstrance of these powers has sufficed to reinstate him; in
other words, the Khedive has been told he is a figure-head, to
reign, not to govern, and we may hope for an improvement in
consequence. The population is only five millions, and it is
estimated that at least two millions more could be supported by
the country; so it seems that only good government is required to
restore Egypt to prosperity.
The tenure of land is an important question just now, and men's
minds are disposed to give the subject consideration. Mr. George's
exciting book has attracted surprising attention. "Thou shalt not
sell the land of the Lord thy God for ever," seems likely to prove
correct. Egypt has a land history of much significance. Anciently
the land was the property of the priests, and of the king and the
military class. Although there were no castes, still the fact that
the son usually followed his father's occupation, served the
purpose of caste. Even Joseph did not purchase the land of the
priests when he bought all the rest. Before the time of Mehemet
Ali, say up to about a hundred years ago, a kind of feudal system
prevailed, but by the massacre of the Mamelukes the feudal system
was destroyed. Mehemet Ali seized almost all the landed property,
and gave the owners pensions for life. There is scarcely such a
thing as private tenure of land now in Egypt.
This little bit of cultivated land has actually borrowed in the
last fifteen years no less than £80,000,000 sterling
($400,000,000). Twelve hundred miles of railway have been built,
and numerous canals, harbors, and lighthouses constructed; but the
amount spent in useful works bears but a small proportion to that
squandered. The greatest item of all, however, is the discount
paid upon the five successive loans by which funds were obtained.
None of these loans cost less than 12 per cent, per annum, while
the one for railways cost 26 per cent, per annum. These rates, I
believe, are calculated upon the issue prices; what commissions
the bankers received is unknown. A report upon the finances states
that the Government received only about one-half the amount of the
loans.
I have referred to the discontent which had shown itself in the
army during our stay in Cairo. How rapidly events have travelled
since then! The rise of a popular leader, Arabi, who possessed the
confidence, or at least, who was accepted by the people as their
only instrument of reform,--effectually put down by the English
Government, which surely was misled by its agents in Egypt.
Now that England has been so foolish as to interfere, but two
courses are open. She must either rule Egypt as she does India,
or, what would be infinitely better both for Egypt and for
England, retire, and allow the people of Egypt to undertake the
management of their own affairs. This would be unfortunate for the
bondholders, no doubt, but it would sooner or later secure for
Egypt those institutions for which she is suited. I am convinced
that England is to see the day, and that ere long, when she will
bitterly repent ever having thrown her power in the scale against
men who revolted at a state of affairs against which revolt was
meritorious, and gave to the world the best proof that sufficient
sound timber existed in Egypt to form the nucleus of firm national
institutions. England's position in Egypt is all wrong. She of all
nations should know that there are stages in the life of nations
where oppression can be overthrown only by violent means. Ah! John
Bright proved himself here once more the true statesman. Had his
advice been followed, how different might have been the result!
But ere the Egyptian question is settled we may see stranger
events still than those which have surprised us.
The cry from the moment you set foot in Egypt until the steamer
sails is "Backsheesh! Backsheesh!" Give! give! give! Crowds
surround you at every place, and from child to withered eld it is
an incessant chorus. If one is weak enough to give a piastre he is
done for; the crowd increases, and the roars of the beggars with
it. There is no place in Egypt which can be enjoyed, owing to this
nuisance; even on the top of the Pyramid the evil is unabated.
Travellers must be to blame for such an annoyance. For our part we
resolved never to give anything to a beggar, and adhered strictly
to the rule, which preserved us from many a fierce attack; but the
objects begging were sometimes piteous-looking enough to haunt
one.
The surest means of obtaining a livelihood as a beggar in Egypt is
to feign idiocy, which, I am told, is frequently done. Idiots are
regarded as saints, and are never restricted in their movements,
maniacs alone being confined, and they are often met with in the
streets. My Swedenborgian friends might account for the absence of
sense being held proof positive of the saintly character by urging
that idiots were certainly free from one of the worst evils of
this generation denounced by the Swedish Seer as "self-derived
intelligence."
The never ending work of creation is finely illustrated in the
remarkable depression of the northern shore of Egypt, which is
continually going on, notwithstanding the vast deposits from the
many mouths of the Nile annually discharged upon it, while on the
southern shore, near Suez, a contrary phenomenon is observable.
The consequence of this movement is seen in the ruins of places on
the Mediterranean shore, and the drying up of large portions of
the Gulf of Suez. Indeed the bed of the Red Sea may be traced for
miles north of the town of Suez, which is now at the head of the
gulf, and places far north of the town were on the coast in
historic times. An equally remarkable change is observable in the
level of the Nile. Two thousand years B.C. it is found that at
Semneh the mean height of the famous river was twenty-three feet
greater than it is to-day. Imagine what results would flow from a
change of the level of the Mississippi twenty-three feet higher or
lower than now! It would change the continent. While such
startling changes are found right under our own eyes, surely we do
not require the "doctrine of catastrophes" to explain the creation
of this little ball--the earth! The silent, irresistible,
unchanging laws of Nature suffice.
We arrived too late to get a run up the Nile, as the boats had
ceased to ply for the season. There remained but Cairo and
Alexandria to visit, and a few days spent at each place exhausts
the sights; but we concluded that nothing could be more enjoyable
than a three-months' sail upon the Nile, in one's own boat,
breathing the remarkably pure and dry air as it comes from the
desert, moving day by day from one to another scene of the far
past, and at night enjoying the unequalled sunsets, when it seems,
as some one has beautifully said, that "the day was slowly dying
of its own glory." This is the trip of trips for an invalid, or
for one overtaxed by work or oppressed with sorrow; and for a
bridal tour--to give the lovers plenty of time and opportunity to
become thoroughly acquainted with each other--it can be highly
recommended.
The rapid rise of our western rivers is very different from the
gradual swelling of the Nile, which begins at Khartoum, at the
junction of the White and Blue Niles, as early as April each year,
but which is not felt at Cairo until after the summer solstice,
while the greatest height is not reached till autumn. A good flood
gives a rise of forty feet at the first cataract, and about
twenty-five at Cairo; a scanty rise is when only between eighteen
or twenty feet occurs at Cairo. The inundation is good if it is
between twenty-four and twenty-seven feet; if beyond the latter it
becomes a destructive flood. Upon such a narrow margin--the rise
of a few feet more or less in the Nile--depends the entire crop of
Egypt! Once for a period of seven years (A.D. 457-464), the rise
failed and seven years of famine ensued. A great engineering work,
designed to regulate the inundation by means of a _barrage_
across both branches of the river below Cairo, was begun some
years ago, but, I believe, has been abandoned. When Egypt reaches
good government from within herself, not through foreigners, one
of its first works should be to complete the barrage. Surplus
water will then be allowed free escape, and inundations prevented.
When the flow is scanty, egress at the river mouths will be
retarded, and thus Egypt will be secured regular harvests. We
watch men at work everywhere raising water from narrow ditches to
higher levels, that all parts may be irrigated from the fruitful
Nile. We could get no estimate of the amount of water which one
man can raise in a day; but when human labor is so cheap, we
guessed that it was, upon the whole, an economical mode. At all
events a complete revolution in the management of land, and
probably of its tenure, must precede the general use of machinery
for this purpose. The "shadoof" of today is the same in form as
that used by the ancient Egyptians. Two columns of mud, or brick,
erected at the side of the ditch, support a beam of wood, across
which is a pole with a weight at one end, and a rude wooden bowl-
shaped bucket, suspended by a stick, at the other. A man stands
under the bucket and pulls it down into the water. The weight
helps him to push it up to the ditch above, where it is emptied.
The operation is very quickly performed, and the bucket kept
constantly going. It would be hard to beat these ancient Egyptian
shadoofs by any device requiring human labor where the amount of
water required is small. Water-wheels, driven by bullocks or cows,
and sometimes by one animal only, are sometimes used. There is
also a double shadoof worked by two men, and even steam pumps are
used in extreme cases where the volume of water desired is
unusually large. Steam, no doubt, is ultimately to drive out the
shadoof, ancient as it is. We had a strange meeting at Cairo upon
entering the breakfast-room the morning after our arrival. Whom
should we be placed opposite to but my friend the Rev. Mr. D., of
Dunfermline, my aunty's minister, nae less! He was _en route_
to the Holy Land with his father-in-law; but we had several days
together at Cairo, and talked upon many subjects, from theology to
town affairs. I had received a telegram the day of his departure
which told me my mother was to sail from New York that very day to
join me in Scotland, as had been arranged, and we drank her health
and wished her _bon voyage_ in good style.
Before bidding farewell to the East, I wish to indulge in just a
few general reflections. Life there lacks two of its most
important elements--the want of intelligent and refined women as
the companion of man, and a Sunday. It has been a strange
experience to me to be for several months without the society of
some of this class of women--sometimes many weeks without even
speaking to one, and often a whole week without even seeing the
face of an educated woman. And, bachelor as I am, let me confess
what a miserable, dark, dreary, and insipid life this would be
without their constant companionship! This brings everything that
is good in its train, everything that is bright and elevating. I
cannot satisfy myself as to what the man of the East has to
struggle for, since he has dethroned woman and practically left
her out of his life. To see a wealthy Chinaman driving along in
his carriage alone was pitiable. His efforts had been successful,
but for what? There was no joy in his world. The very soul of
European civilization, its crown and special glory, lies in the
elevation of woman to her present position (she will rise even
higher yet with the coming years), and this favor she has repaid a
thousand-fold by making herself the fountain of all that is best
in man. In life, without her there is nothing. Much as the lot of
woman in the East is to be deplored, that of man is still more
deplorable. The revenge she takes is terrible, for she drags down
with her, in her debasement, the higher life of man. I had noted
the absence of music as one great want. Not an opera nor a
concert--not even a hand-organ. Scarcely a sweet sound in all our
journey. When we found an English church or a regimental band, we
rejoiced. I went to hear the organ upon every occasion, and was
seldom absent when the band played; but were women there as with
us, wouldn't music spring forth also! so that even this want I am
disposed to attribute to the first cause.
The absence of a regularly recurring day of rest ranks next in
importance, I believe, in the list of causes which keep the East
down in the scale of nations. With few exceptions, the race is
doomed to a life of unremitting toil--from morning till night, and
every day without respite; for festival and fête days recurring at
long, irregular intervals are no substitute for the one regular
day to which labor looks forward with us. The prospect of one day
of rest frequently intervening gives a toiler something bright to
look forward to, without which his life must stretch before him as
one unceasing, unvarying drag. In this one blessed day his slavery
ceases, the shackles fall. He is no longer a brute--fed and
clothed solely because of his physical powers, his capacity to
bear burdens--but a higher being, with tastes, pleasures, friends.
Life becomes worth living. The man puts on his best clothes--and
there is much in this--the woman gives her cottage an extra
brushing up. Something extra is prepared for dinner--there is a
great deal in this, too--and, in short, the day is marked by a
hundred little differences from those of labor--a stroll in the
fields, a visit to relatives, or a meeting with neighbors at
church, all in their best; and then the swelling organ and the
choir--these things lie closely at the root of all improvements;
and if ever the race is to be lifted to a higher platform--and who
shall dare doubt it?--the weekly day of rest will prove itself an
agency in the good work only second to the elevation of woman.
The best mode of improving its most precious hours for the toiling
masses is therefore a question of infinite moment, apart
altogether from the question of its divine character, and viewed
only as a human enactment of the highest wisdom. It would seem
clear that to make this only respite from manual labor a day
exclusively set apart for the mournful duty of bemoaning our
manifold shortcomings--which must at best give rise to gloomy
thoughts--would defeat the purposes I have indicated. I want a
compromise--church service in the morning, with a sermon "leaning
to the side of mercy," as Sidney Smith suggested, which meant that
it should not exceed twenty minutes, for, as one wit says, "a
minister who can't strike ile in twenty minutes should quit
_boring_"--and then the fields and streams for the toilers
who are cooped up in factories and workshops all the week long, or
a visit to picture galleries, museums, or to musical concerts of a
high order in huge centres--for in London and a village it is not
the same question at all--to anything that would tend to brighten
their existence. I am now convinced that there is an important
change to be made in the mode of keeping our Sundays--the
cessation of labor, as far as it is possible, to remain a cardinal
point, but better facilities to be provided for cultivating the
higher tastes of our poor workers, that the day may be to them
indeed "the golden jewel which clasps the circle of the week."
One more observation upon the East and I am done: the work that
England is doing there. You know that she has in one way or
another obtained the keys to the East. Some islands she owns; some
small strips of the mainland she also has acquired and governs; at
Shanghai, Hong Kong, and other points in China; at Singapore,
Penang, Ceylon, Aden, Malta, and indeed all through our journey,
we stand now and then on British soil. And wherever the meteor
flag floats, there you find order, freedom, schools, churches,
dispensaries, clean streets, hospitals, newspapers, justice; and
under that flag you will find thousands of Chinamen and Malays,
Indians, Cingalese, Arabs--indeed men of all races--settled and
enjoying the blessings of good government. No revolution there, no
slavery, no arbitrary arrest, nor forced levy. As a native lawyer
in India said to me--he talked freely because of our American
look--"There is between natives under English rule perfect
justice; but," he added, "every one must behave himself. There is
no war nor plundering when one settles under them, for these
English _won't stand any nonsense, and they will have
peace_."
England, therefore, has planted throughout the East small models
of perfectly governed little States, enjoying all the blessings of
the highest civilization. Daily and hourly these teach their
lesson to the native races, and when they do acquire this
lesson--and who that believes in the progress of mankind can doubt
but the day must come?--they will look westward with grateful
hearts and say, "All this we owe to thee, noble England!"
But while this is true, there is another phase of England's work
to which I have referred in my remarks upon India. The source of
England's good work springs from example. It is where the native
races are drawn to her standard, as at the many points named,
where their freedom is not destroyed, that great results can alone
be looked for. This is the very reverse of England's position in
India. She stands there as the destroyer of native institutions,
and forces her views upon an unwilling people wholly unprepared to
receive them, instead of resting, as at Hong Kong, Singapore,
Aden, and such places, saying to the natives, "Come, try our
system, and, if you like it, remain and share its benefits."
Nothing but good can result from the latter, and nothing really
good can flow from the former; the injury done must more than
absorb any temporary gains. Force is no remedy; and some of these
years, unless the ablest natives are induced to participate in the
government of India, and soon allowed the chief control, England
will rise to a rude awakening.
* * * * *
ALEXANDRIA, Friday, March 14.
Off at nine this morning for Naples, taking Sicily _en
route_. The voyage was a smooth one, and we landed at Catania
upon the morning of the fourth day. As we stepped ashore we felt
in a moment that we were once more within the bounds of
civilization. What a difference between this and the East! And
there frowned Mount Etna, ten thousand feet above the sea level,
thirty miles distant, and yet seemingly so near we thought that we
could almost walk over to its base after breakfast. We ascended a
small hill in the centre of the city--which, by the way, has a
population of a hundred thousand--and there lay Sicily spread out
before us in all its wondrous beauty. Lemon and orange groves in
full bearing, and fields of vines just budding; and in the town
clean paved streets and pavements, which are unknown in the East;
people with shoes and stockings on; statues and fountains, and a
good old cathedral; harps and violins, and the chime of church
going bells. Ah! Western civilization is not a mistake, nor a
myth, nor a thing of doubtful value, as we can testify. At least
so thought two happy travellers in Sicily that bright balmy
morning, as they felt how blessed a thing it was to be once more
in a civilized country.
The pretty island of Sicily (Sechelia, as the Italians pronounce
it) contains nearly three millions of people--nearly as many as
Scotland--and supports them almost entirely by the produce of the
land, for manufactures are little known. The olive and the vine
are everywhere, and the crops of oranges and lemons go to most
parts of the world. An English gentleman told us he had bought
oranges in the season for one cent per dozen. There is one item of
export of rather peculiar character--sulphur--which is obtained
from the volcano. We saw it drawn through the streets in large
blocks.
Only two hundred years ago an eruption of Mount Etna took place,
and 27,000 people were buried by the lava. We saw where the stream
had rushed down from the crater through part of the town, and far
into the sea--almost a mile in width, and thirty miles from its
source, bearing destruction to everything in its course, and yet
to-day fine new houses stand upon the cold lava, and away up and
along the sides of the volcano for miles are to be seen cottages
clustering thickly together, the inmates busily engaged in
cultivating their vineyards. It was only a few days ago--the
monster gave a warning and shook these houses; but they still "sit
under their vine and sing the merry songs of peace to all their
neighbors"--these merry, light-hearted Sicilians!--as if they had
Mount Etna under perfect control.
The railway skirts the shores of the island for its entire
length--some fifty miles--and a more beautiful ride is not to be
seen in all the world. It is a succession of fine old castles, in
perfect ruin, upon every petty promontory, and we go through
nothing but orange and lemon groves and vineyards. We pass at the
base of Mount Etna; but although all was smiling in the valleys
below, its top was enveloped in dark clouds and busy with the
thunder and the storm.
Messina is a very quaint Italian city. The funeral services of a
distinguished lady were in progress when we stepped into the
cathedral, which was illuminated with hundreds of candles--I think
I might say almost a thousand--the interior being one mass of
light, which shone with strange effect upon the rich black velvet
with which the walls were draped. A lady in our party counted the
carriages as they passed, and told us there were fifty-three, most
of which would compare favorably with those of New York or London.
This will give you some idea of the richness of Messina, which we
had thought to be an unimportant town.
The Sicilians are strict Roman Catholics and completely under the
dominion of that faith. There is scarcely a trace of dissent to be
found. When we were about to sail from Messina for Naples a priest
walked upon the deck and collected contributions from the devout
passengers, for which in return he was expected to give to our
good ship the august protection of Holy Mother Church. We noticed
that all the passengers contributed and received his blessing with
much solemnity. Faith is still there. They were going to
sea--probably a first experience to most if not all of them, and
were naturally apprehensive. Should we have a stormy night, no
doubt, notwithstanding their bargain with the priest, some will
resolve with good Dame Partington that under like circumstances
if ever she set her foot on dry land she would never again trust
herself "so far out of the reach of Providence." But my mother
remembers well that when a member of the congregation was about to
start from Dunfermline to London, a rare event in those days,
though not so very long ago, that his safety was always prayed for
in church. I mentioned this to Vandy when he was deploring the
ignorance and, as he thought, the impiety of the Sicilians. We are
not entirely free from superstition ourselves, and were in the
last generation where the Sicilians are in this.
The scene in "The Tempest," the enchanted isle, must have been in
the neighborhood of Sechelia, and surely no fitter region in all
the world could be found; indeed I found sweet Sechelia so
enchanting that I voted it the very spot, and selected my
Prospero's Cave on the glittering shore within sight of Mount
Etna.
* * * * *
BAY OF NAPLES, Thursday, March 20.
Early morning! Yes, my dear friends, it is round. Here stands
Mount Vesuvius in full view this morning, making for itself pure
white clouds of steam, which float in the otherwise clear,
cloudless sky of Italy. No entering the crater now as we did
before, for the volcano is no longer at rest. Vandy and I shake
hands and recall our pledge made in the crater years ago, and say,
"Well, that is now fulfilled, and may life only have for us in its
unknown future another such five months of unalloyed happiness
(save where the dark shades of death among friends at home have
saddened the hours) as those we have been so privileged to enjoy."
It is well never to be without something to look forward to, and
speculate upon; and by a happy chance Vandy and I have hit upon
our next excursion, when we shall have earned another vacation by
useful work. The very thought of it already brings us pleasure.
And so, all hail, sunny Italia! What a picture this Bay of Naples
is! We sail past our former haunts, Capri and Sorrento, and are
soon in our hotel at Naples, where we are delighted to rejoin our
friends.
From this time forth it is impossible but that a change must occur
in the character of these notes. There is a first time to
everything, and it is first impressions which I have endeavored
honestly to convey; but my first impressions of Europe were
obtained years ago. The gloss and enthusiasm of novelty are
wanting. The sober second thought is proverbial; but there is a
sober second sight as well, and it is this I am about to take.
Besides this, Europe is more familiar to everybody than the East.
Many know it through personal experience, and I shall therefore
content myself with giving the salient features of our homeward
progress from this point.
We find Naples, Sorrento, Capri, and all the pretty spots around
the bay much improved since our last visit. The people seem to us
to be remarkably fine-looking, but perhaps this is mainly owing to
the miserable races we have been seeing lately. The museum which
contains the principal treasures found at Pompeii and Herculaneum
is greatly improved, and one has no difficulty now in determining
just how the people of those cities lived. There are even models
of the houses shown. The frescoes and sculptures are far finer
than I had remembered them, and indeed there are so many articles
of furniture and domestic utensils that one cannot help admitting
that those who argue that man travels in a circle just as the
world goes round, and never advances, have some ground for their
theory in these remarkable productions of the first century. We
are in the land of music, sure enough!--Here is the list of operas
to be performed to-night, apart from numerous dramatic
performances: "Norma," "Sonnambula," "La Belle Hélène," "Martha."
You will please take it for granted that our nights here, with few
exceptions, will be spent hearing one or another opera, for of all
the pleasures of civilized society which we have missed most in
our travels, we rank first after the absence of refined women the
total absence of music. We hunger for sweet sounds.
We were fortunate this time in getting into the Blue Grotto--the
sea being quite smooth. The reflections upon the rocky roof were
not as fine as we expected; but Miss N. pronounced the water "the
prettiest blue that ever was," and she is an authority upon color.
While at Capri we ascended to the villa of Tiberius, on the edge
of a perpendicular cliff nearly two thousand feet high. It was
from this rock that ruler was wont to throw his victims into the
sea. He found they never troubled him again. And now I write amid
the orange groves of Sorrento, where we have been spending a few
days.
We have just finished, in company with our friends, a three-days'
excursion to Pæstum, embracing the famous drive along the coast to
Amalfi. Certainly I know nothing of the kind in the world equal to
this road in grandeur, and if any of you ever visit Naples I advise
you to let nothing interfere with your going to Amalfi. At Sorrento
we joined our friends, Mr. H. and party, and our Windsor Hotel
delegation was further and happily augmented by Mr. and Mrs. I. and
family. Can you wonder that our daily excursions were delightful?
* * * * *
ROME, March 26.
Rome once more! What a change! A miniature Paris has been added to
old Rome since we first saw it, and even old Rome itself is
modernized completely. Much of the picturesque is lost, but well
lost, since it brings us clean streets, improved dwellings, and
all the accompaniments of progress; but, notwithstanding its now
greater likeness to modern cities, it is not with these Rome vies.
Her empire is not of to-day, but over the mighty past she alone
holds undisputed sway, and the spirit of ages gone still infuses
itself into everything in Rome. I thought even modern structures
were unlike their fellows elsewhere, as if the mere fact that they
stood in Rome invested them with a peculiar halo of classic
dignity and importance. Then Rome still has to boast of so many of
the best things which the world has to show. No other cathedral is
so grand as St. Peter's nor so beautiful as St. Paul's; no other
"bit of color" is equal to the Transfiguration; no other heroic
statue is to be compared with the Augustus; nowhere else is so
sweet a girl-face as the Cenci; no other group is to be named with
the Laocoon, no other fresco with the Aurora; and where is there
another Moses, or Apollo Belvedere, or Antinous, or where is there
vocal music so heavenly as that of the Pope's choir? Nowhere. And
so it comes that the world still flocks to Rome, and must continue
its pilgrimage hither to this Mecca for a thousand years to come;
and artists by the score, day after day, multiply copies of these
wonders of art, the recognized "best" in their various classes
which man has yet brought forth. All these works, and others
unmentioned, I returned to with enhanced pleasure. They all seemed
greater and finer to me than when I saw them before. I had not
forgotten them, while the mass of mediocre works had left no
trace.
It is thus that the true fire of genius vindicates its right to
immortality. Generations may come and go, fashions and tastes may
change, but "a thing of beauty" remains "a joy forever." While the
statues and pictures of Rome, therefore, gave me far greater
pleasure than before, I have to confess that the historical
associations gave me much less. When in Rome before I was
overflowing with Shakespeare, Byron and Macaulay, and would wander
away alone and recite to myself on the appropriate sites the
passages connected with them. This time I fear our friends proved
too congenial. We dwelt too much in the happy present to give
ourselves up to the historical past; but I do not think one gets
the sweetest juices out of Rome unless he gives way to the
melancholy vein now and then, and "stalks apart in joyless
reverie."
Another reason for the difference suggests itself. One fresh from
Egypt, where he has been digging among the five thousand years
B.C., and lost in amazement at what the race was even then
producing, must experience some difficulty in getting up a
respectable amount of enthusiasm for structures so recent as the
time of Christ; the "rascally comparative" intrudes to chill it
with its cold breath.
There is a third reason, perhaps--and reasons do seem as plenty as
blackberries, now that I begin to write them down--we are so near
home the echoes of business affairs begin to sound in our ears. We
snuff the battle as it were afar off. It is impossible to become
so entirely absorbed in the story of the Cenci as to prevent the
morning's telegram from home intruding, and so it came about that
this time we did less moralizing than before. We were fortunate in
being in Rome during Easter Week, which gave us an opportunity to
hear the best music; and certainly there is no choir for vocal
music which can rank with that of the Pope. It is the only choir I
ever heard which I felt the finest organ would spoil. It produces
a strange and powerful effect, the music itself seeming to be of a
peculiar order unlike any other. One of our young ladies,
describing her feelings to a friend, said that at one time she
felt she was really in heaven; but when the "Miserere" broke
forth, she knew she was only a poor sinner struggling to get
there.
We visited, with our friends, the various studios. In painting
there does not appear to be a high standard of excellence. The
Roman school does not stand well, but in statuary it is better. A
young American artist, Mr. Harnisch, seemed to me to be doing the
most creditable work. His busts have already given him reputation,
and he has a figure now in plaster, "Antigone," which I rate as
the best classical statue in process of completion which we saw.
This young artist is not probably as good a manager as some of his
more pretentious countrymen, and, I fear, we are to wait some time
before a Congressional committee can be induced to give him a
commission; but in the opinion of real Italian sculptors he is an
artist. There are those who have "adorned" our public edifices
with huge works to whom certainly no one outside of America would
apply the name. We shall hear of Mr. Harnisch by-and-by; he is
young, and can wait. I was highly gratified at making the
acquaintance of Dr. Smiles, author of "Self-Help," and that
favorite of mine, "The Scotch Naturalist," and other valued works.
He is a most delightful companion and a true Scotchman, and hadn't
we "a canny day thegether" at Tivoli! Through him I met Mr.
William Black, who is a small, young man, with a face that lights
up, and eyes that sparkle through his spectacles. Mr. Petty, R.A.,
and he were doing Italy together, and no doubt we are to see
traces of their travels in their respective lines ere long.
* * * * *
FLORENCE, Wednesday, April 9.
We spent a few days in Florence, but it rained almost continually,
as indeed it has done all winter. This has been the most
disagreeable season ever known in Italy, we hear from every
quarter. Sight-seeing requires sunshine: but we nevertheless did
the galleries, and were delighted with the masterpieces for which
the city is famed. The statuary, however, is much inferior to that
of Rome. In the way of painting I was most interested in comparing
the numerous Madonnas of Raphael, and seeing how he, at last,
reached "the face of all the world" in the San Sisto. He seems to
have held as loyally as a true knight to his first love. His
Madonnas have all the same type of face. You could never hesitate
about their authorship. Emphatically they are one and all
"Raphael's Madonnas," and very much alike--even the one which the
Grand Duke loved so fondly as to take it about with him wherever
he travelled is only a little sweeter than the rest. It is a
strange fact that it was not by painting Madonnas at all the
master obtained his inspiration. He painted the portrait of a
lady, which is still seen in the Pitti Palace, from whose face he
drew the lacking halo of awe and sublimity. He idealized this
woman's face, and the San Sisto came to satisfy all one can
imagine about the Madonna. But the face of Christ! Who shall paint
it satisfactorily? No one. This is something beyond the region of
art. A divine-human face cannot be depicted, and all the efforts I
have seen are not only failures which one can lament, but many are
caricatures at which one becomes indignant. I was greatly pleased
that a true artist, Leonardo da Vinci, realized this, and painted
his Christ with averted head. Every great painter in older times
seems to have thought it incumbent upon him to paint a Christ, and
consequently you meet them everywhere. As for the "Fathers"
(_i.e._, Jehovah) one sees, these seem to me positively
sacrilegious. I wonder the arms of the men who ventured upon such
sacred ground did not wither at their sides. To paint old men with
tremendous white flowing beards--a cross between Santa Claus and
Bluebeard--and call them God! Here is materialism for you with a
vengeance. These audacious men forgot that _He_ was not seen
in the whirlwind, neither in the storm, but never seen at all;
only _heard in the still_, small voice.
Of course I visited Mrs. Browning's grave in Florence. I had the
melancholy satisfaction of hearing, from one who knew her
intimately, many details concerning her life here. Mr. Browning
left Florence the day after she died, leaving the house, his
books, papers, and even unfinished letters, as they were when he
was called to her bedside the night before, and has never
returned; nor has he ever been known to mention her name, or to
refer to the blow which left him alone in the world. He seems to
have been worthy even of a love like hers. We stayed over two days
at Milan to see friends, and while there ascended to see once more
the celebrated cathedral. It is finer--I do not say grander--but
much finer, especially as seen from the roof, than any other
building in Europe.
From Milan we went to Turin, and spent a day there, as we had
never seen that city. It is prettily situated, very clean, with
regular streets, but without any special objects of interest. The
splendid view of the snow-clad Alps, and the fertile valley of the
Po, as seen from the monastery, fully repaid us for the day given
to Turin. We leave Italy in the morning. It is impossible not to
like the country and to be deeply interested in its future. While
it has made considerable progress since the genius of Cavour made
it once more a nation, still its path is just now beset with
dangers. A standing army of six hundred thousand and all the
concomitants of royalty to maintain, and a large national debt
upon which interest has to be paid--these require severe
taxation, and even with this the revenues show a deficit. That
last resort, paper currency, has been sought, and now the
circulating medium--although "based on the entire property of the
nation," as our demagogues phrase it--is at a discount of ten per
cent., which threatens to increase.
But the chief trouble arises from the religious difficulty--that
sad legacy from the past, of which, fortunately, a new land like
America knows nothing. The Pope and all strict Catholics stand
coldly aloof from the government, ready to give trouble whenever
opportunity offers. But I have faith in Italy. She will conquer
her enemies, and once again be a great power worthy of her
glorious past. All her troubles, however, are not to seek.
* * * * *
PARIS, Thursday, May 1.
Now comes somewhat of a return to the more prosaic side of life.
We made an excursion to the famous iron and steel works of the
Schneider Company at Creuzot. What a concern this is, and how
small we all are upon the other side of the Atlantic! Fifteen
thousand five hundred men are employed here. We saw fifteen steam
hammers in one shop. The mill for rolling only is 1,500 by 350
feet, filled with trains. The giant, however, is the 80-ton steam
hammer, with its huge appliances. Masses of steel 35 tons in
weight are handled as readily as we move a rail ingot. One ingot
of steel weighing 120 tons was shown to us. This monster hammer is
required only for armor plate and guns--war material. The happier
demands of peaceful industry are met with ordinary machinery. Long
may it be, therefore, before America can boast an engine of even
half the size. Our visit to Creuzot was both interesting and
instructive. Mr. Schneider and his officers were most cordial and
attentive to us.
We spend a few days in Paris, which shows even more than the other
cities we have revisited the march of improvement. It is farther
beyond competition in its line than it ever was. I appreciate its
attractions more than I have done upon previous visits; but one
must be exceptionally strong who can persist in leading an earnest
and useful life here, where so much exists to persuade one that
after all amusement is the principal thing to be sought for. Most
of the American residents seem to me to sink naturally to the
level of thinking most--or certainly talking most--of the newest
opera, or even the best ballet, or where is to be found the best
_table d'hôte_; but, after all, what can a man do who leaves
his own country, and the duties incumbent upon him there, to
become a man about town here, with no work in the world to do.
Good Americans come here when they die, it is said. I think it
would be well for most of them if they did postpone their journey
until then.
As we have travelled through France bands of the "Reserves" have
been constantly seen repairing to their camps. Every Frenchman
now, without exception, must serve as a soldier and drill at least
one month every year. No substitutes are allowed. Soldiers!
soldiers everywhere! Not a petty town at which we have stayed over
night but has its barracks--its troops who parade its streets
every morning. The entire male population is being trained so as
most skilfully to murder, upon the first favorable opportunity,
such of their fellow-Christians who may happen to be called
Germans, while in Germany a similar state of affairs is rendered
necessary to prevent the success of their "brothers'" intention.
You see there was a frontier that was not "scientific," and it was
"rectified" a few years ago; but these rectifications, of all
things in the world, never remain rectified, and so we are to
awake some fine morning to find the "civilized" Christian (!)
nations (save the mark!) nobly engaged in butchering each other,
even if this is the nineteenth century and we all worship Christ
and have the same Father in heaven. That thoughtful educated
people, even in England and America, can still deliberately send a
son "to the army," to be taught the butchering trade, his victims
being human, always saddens me when I think of it. The progress of
the world has not only been slow but small, till the profession of
arms, as it is called, is held to be unfit except for men of
brutal natures.
In Italy it is much the same. She has 600,000 men under arms, and
is drilling others, while Russia has just ordered an addition to
her hosts exceeding five-fold the entire American army. England's
war expenditure this year exceeds that of only five years ago by
$30,000,000, which is more than America spends for her army
altogether. And so the whole of Europe is armed and arming, as if
conscious that a storm is about to burst, or at least that such a
stupendous drain upon her productive resources has to be endured
to insure safety. Happy America! she alone seems to occupy a
position free from grave and imminent dangers.
* * * * *
LONDON.
Our next step brought us to monster London, where we attended the
interesting meeting of the British Iron and Steel Institute, and
being called upon as the only representative of American iron and
steel manufacturers present, I had to venture a few remarks.
Whatever England may be justly chargeable with in the past for her
neglect of scientific methods and the improvements of the day, it
is evident she now occupies the van in this respect.
No one could be present at these meetings without being impressed
with the amount and thoroughness of the scientific knowledge now
engaged in the iron and steel manufacture of Great Britain. Not
less remarkable seemed to me the willingness upon the part of all
to report and explain every advance made in the various processes
to their fellows. The old idea of trade secrets seems thoroughly
exploded, and a free interchange of practice and theory is now
seen to be the best for all. I cannot but believe that had the
manufacturers of America adopted this policy years ago, many
millions squandered in the erection of works at unsuitable
locations would have been saved. It struck me as strange that no
less a personage than Earl Granville, who has had charge of her
Majesty's foreign affairs and been leader in the House of Lords,
should have been in attendance and participated in these meetings.
The company also had the attendance of two dukes; but these were
Lord Granville's compeers only in title. All of the three,
however, rightfully claim to rank with us as iron-masters. The
Bessemer medal was presented this year to Peter Cooper, of New
York, much to the honor of the donors, I think.
For one shilling, any one curious to know something of the sights
of this London, can do so by purchasing a good-sized
volume--Dickens's London. A look at it will soon satisfy one how
true it is that compared to London all other cities are but
villages. It will very soon count four millions of people under
its sway. Every year one hundred thousand are added to the mass,
and not even depressed times seem to limit this increase. The
reason for this is patent; there is everything here that there is
elsewhere, and much that can be found nowhere else; in every
department of life, for earnest work in any special line, or for
amusement--for sight-seeing, study, or fashion--it is here that
the very best of everything is concentrated; the very cream of all
the world is here, because no other place is large enough or rich
enough to support it. To know the best that has been said and done
in the world of the past is no doubt much, as Matthew Arnold says,
but there is also much in seeing and living where the best of
to-day is said and done, and if possible in the company of those
who have said or done any of the best things in any line. Life
with godlike men on earth must be the best preparative for
companionship hereafter. This is possible in Britain only in
London, for the celebrities and their works are centred here. An
unusually large proportion of the population is of the wealthy
classes, for the height of the average Briton's ambition is, in
addition to the essential estate in the country, to be in
possession of a mansion in London. After these are acquired, and
his wife and daughters have been presented at court, any after-
successes may be regarded as details which ornament the solid
edifice of position attained; and truly, as far as I have seen
human life in any part of the world, I know of no state which in
itself seems capable of affording so much pleasure--were happiness
dependent upon external circumstances--as that which rewards
successful Britons when with their usual good sense they retire
from business.
If the owner of a large estate in Britain with its hundreds of
people, who are as it were, under his care, its pretty quaint
villages and honeysuckled cottages, its running brooks, its hedge-
rows and green fields, all giving him scope for change and
improvement--if such a man is not happy and does not enjoy life,
let him seek for some more favorable conditions in some other
planet than this, say I. I must not attempt to follow our steps
through England and Scotland, nor to tell you of the cordial
welcomes and thousand kind attentions bestowed upon us. We spent a
very, very happy month among dear kind friends, and never enjoyed
Merrie England more. My mother and Miss F. joined us in London,
and took care of us until we sailed for New York, which we did by
the new Cunard steamer Gallia, June 14th, reaching New York on the
24th, exactly eight months from the day we sailed out of the
Golden Gate. And now, June 25th, I write these lines at Cresson,
on the crest of the Alleghanies, having reached our starting point
and earned our right to fellowship with the favored fraternity of
globe-trotters.
The voyage round the world should be made sailing westward from
London or New York, as this gives the traveller the prevailing
winds in his favor; at least after he reaches New York, for the
Atlantic is never quite blessed with steady winds from the west.
The trade-winds waft the traveller on his way when he goes toward
the west; should he take the contrary direction and start via
England to the East, he must experience many rough days and nights
upon the sea. We saw the steamers from England battling against
the monsoon, which only served to push us steadily and smoothly
on. Let all my readers make due note of this--westward, not
eastward. Another even greater advantage, at least to those who,
like myself, are affected by heat, is obtained by taking the
westward course: the various countries can be visited in months
during which no extreme heat is possible. The best time to start
from San Francisco is early in September, so that Japan is reached
about the first of October, which is a delightful month in that
pretty toy-land, neither too hot nor too cold. A month will enable
the tourist to see all that is specially interesting--Yokohama,
Yeddo, Kiobe, Kioto, Osaka, Nagasaki, and some of the notable
inland sights. This brings him to China (Shanghai) the middle of
November. After a few days there, a trip up the Yangtse, on one of
the excellent American style of river boats, some six hundred
miles to Hang-Kow, should not be missed, as one gets by this the
best possible look at the Chinese at home. Hong Kong, the next
stage, is reached, say early in December. Here you do Canton,
Macao, and other interesting points, and reach Singapore, almost
at the equator, and eat your Christmas dinner directly below your
friends at home. If the reports from Java are favorable, a
tempting excursion to that interesting island can be made from
Singapore; but when we were at Singapore Europeans were being
brought there from Java, and hurried north to cool places as the
only cure for maladies contracted in that island. Therefore we
abandoned our intended trip thither.
The traveller can decide whether to take steamer from Singapore
via Bankok, Siam, and do that coast of Asia, and reach Calcutta
from the west, or to follow our course via Ceylon. If he has
plenty of time, the former may enable him to see more of India;
but our experience was that there is more to see by any route than
can be properly taken in upon one journey. If the wanderer follow
us to Ceylon, we advise him to cross from Colombo to Southern
India by steamer to Philipopolis, and go up through Southern India
by land to Madras, as this will give him an opportunity to see the
strange architecture and many customs peculiar to that region. We
did the principal sights of India, but we advise any of our
readers who make the journey, instead of returning from Delhi as
we did, to go further north to Amritsir, and as far toward Cabool
as the rail may extend. Simla upon the hills should also be
visited. We often regret that we had not a week or two more to
spend in India. We were rather late in the season, and Bombay was
getting hot--indeed, it is always rather hot anywhere at the
equator--but with the exception of a few hours at midday no great
inconvenience was found, and the nights and the mornings were
pleasant.
By the time the traveller has reached Egypt, and seen Alexandria
and Cairo, he will be disposed, if our condition be any guide, to
rest and be thankful, consigning any further extended travels to
some future time when he has fully digested what he has gathered
in his wanderings, and is fresh. When he touches pretty Catania,
on his way west, he will feel for the first time that he is once
more, as it were, at home among his own kith and kin, and has been
quite long enough among strangers. Going round the world yields
one exquisite pleasure which cannot be experienced upon any other
tour. Our way over the long seas has not to be retraced. The
farther we go, the nearer we come to home; every day's journey
away from those we love, is also one day's step nearer to them. I
think, also, that no amount of travel in detached portions of the
world enables one to contemplate the world and the human race as a
whole. One must traverse the ball round and round to arrive at a
broad, liberal, correct estimate of humanity--its work, its aims,
its destiny.
Go, therefore, my friends--all you who are so situated as to be
able to avail yourselves of this privilege--go and see for
yourselves how greatly we are bound by prejudices, how checkered
and uncertain are many of our own advances, how very nearly all is
balanced. No nation has all that is best, neither is any bereft of
some advantages, and no nation, or tribe, or people is so unhappy
that it would be willing to exchange its condition for that of any
other. See, also, that in every society there are many individuals
distinguished for traits of character which place them upon a par
with the best and highest we know at home, and that such are
everywhere regarded with esteem, and held up as models for lower
and baser natures to emulate.
The traveller will not see in all his wanderings so much abject,
repulsive misery among human beings in the most heathen lands, as
that which startles him in his civilized Christian home, for
nowhere are the extremes of wealth and poverty so painfully
presented. He will learn, too, if he be observant, that very
little is required after all to make mankind happy, and that the
prizes of life worth contending for are, generally speaking,
within the reach of the great mass.
Did you ever sum up these prizes and think how very little the
millionaire has beyond the peasant, and how very often his
additions tend not to happiness but to misery! What constitutes
the choice food of the world? Plain beef, common vegetables and
bread, and the best of all fruits--the apple; the only nectar
bubbles from the brook without money and without price. All that
our race eats or drinks beyond this range must be inferior, if not
positively injurious. Dress--what man, or rather what woman
wears--is less and less comfortable in proportion to its frills
and its cost, and no jewel is so refined as the simple flower in
the hair, which the village maid has for the plucking. All that
women overload themselves with beyond this range is a source of
unhappiness. To be the most simply attired is to be the most
elegantly dressed. So much for true health and happiness in all
that we eat, and drink, and wear.
If we extend the inquiry to the luxuries and adornments of life,
is there any music--which of course comes first--comparable in
grandeur to that of the wave, stirring the soul with its mighty
organ tones as it breaks upon the beach, or any so exquisitely
fine as that of the murmuring brook which sings its song forever
to every listener upon its banks, while above birds warble and the
zephyr plays its divine accompaniment among the trees! We spend
fortunes for picture-galleries, but what are the tiny painted
copies compared to the great originals, the mountains, the glens,
the streams and waterfalls, the fertile fields, the breezy downs,
the silver sea! These are the gems of the universal gallery, the
common heritage of man, the property of the humblest who has eyes
to see, and as free as the air we breathe. We have our
conservatories and spend our thousands upon orchids, but which of
nature's smiles ranks with the rose and the mignonette, the daisy
and the bluebell, and the sweet forget-me-not blooming for all
earth's children, and which grow upon the window-sill of the
artisan and which the laborer blesses at his cottage door!
If we go higher still in the scale, we find that the companionship
of the gods is not denied to the steady wage-receiving man, for
Shakespeare and our Burns and our Scott can be had for sixpence
per volume. In this blessed age in which we are privileged to live
even the immortals are cheap and visit the toiler. We see the rich
rolling over the land in their carriages, but blessed beyond these
is the man who strolls along the hedge-rows. The connoisseur in
his gallery misses the health-giving breeze which brings happiness
to the devotee who seeks the original afield. The lady in her
overheated conservatory knows nothing of the joyous rapture of her
more fortunate sister who gathers the spoils of the glen. Ah, my
friends, ponder well over this truth: the more one dwells with
her, the more one draws from her, the closer one creeps to her
bosom, the sweeter is nature's kiss. From man's neglect of her for
meaner substitutes come most of the disappointment and unhappiness
of life. The masses of mankind are happy all round the world
because their pleasures are drawn so largely from sources which
lie open to all. The rich are not to be envied, for truly "there
is no purchase in money" of any real happiness. When used for our
own gratification, it injures us; when used ostentatiously, it
brings care; when hoarded, it narrows the soul. Nature has not
provided a means by which any man can use riches for selfish
purposes without suffering therefrom. There is only one source of
true blessedness in wealth, and that comes from giving it away for
ends that tend to elevate our brothers and enable them to share it
with us. Nature is gloriously communistic after all, God bless
her! and sees that a pretty fair division is made, let man hoard
as he may. The secret of happiness is renunciation.
Another advantage to be derived from a journey round the world is,
I think, that the sense of the brotherhood of man, the unity of
the race, is very greatly strengthened thereby, for one sees that
the virtues are the same in all lands, and produce their good
fruits, and render their possessors blessed in Benares and Kioto
as in London or New York; that the vices, too, are akin, and also
that the motives which govern men and their actions and aims are
very much the same the world over. In their trials and sufferings,
as in their triumphs and rejoicings, men do not differ, and so the
heart swells and the sympathies extend, and we embrace all men in
our thoughts, leaving not one outside the range of our solicitude
and wishing every one well. The Japanese, Chinese, Cingalese,
Indians, Egyptians, all have been made our friends through
individuals of each race of whom we have heard much that was good
and noble, pure lives, high aims, good deeds, and how can we,
therefore, any longer dwell apart, believing our own land or our
own people in any respect the chosen of God! No, no; we know now
in a sense much more vivid than before that all the children of
the earth dwell under the reign of the same divine law, and that
for each and every one that law evolves through all the ages, the
higher from the lower, the good from evil, slowly but surely
separating the dross from the pure gold, disintegrating what is
pernicious, consolidating what is beneficial to the race, so that
the feeling that formerly told us that we alone had special care
bestowed upon us gives place to the knowledge that every one in
his day and generation, wherever found, receives the truth best
fitted for his elevation from that state to the next higher, and
so
"Ilka blade of grass keps its ain drap o' dew,"
and grows its own fruit after its kind. For these and many other
reasons, let all thoughtful souls follow my example and visit
their brethren from one land to another till the circle is
complete.
The unprecedented advance made by western nations in the past and
present generations, upon which we continually plume ourselves, is
shared by the world in general. Wherever we have been, one story met
us. Everywhere there is progress, not only material but intellectual
as well, and rapid progress too. The oldest inhabitant has always
his comparison to offer between the days of his youth and the
advantages possessed by the youth of to-day. Matters are not as they
were. We saw no race which had retrograded, if we except Egypt,
which is now in a transitional state, and will ultimately prove no
exception to the rule. The whole world moves, and moves in the right
direction--upward and onward--the things that are better than those
that have been and those to come to be better than those of to-day.
The law of evolution--the higher from the lower--is not discredited
by a voyage round the world and the knowledge of what is transpiring
from New York round to New York again gives us joy this morning as
we sum it all up.
The trip has been without a single unpleasant incident. We have not
missed one connection, nor ever been beyond the reach of all the
comforts of life, nor have we had one unhappy or even lonely hour.
Every day has brought something new or interesting. And sitting here
in our quiet mountain home this morning, I feel that there is
scarcely a prize that could be offered for which I would exchange
the knowledge obtained and the memories of things seen during my
trip. One of the great pleasures of travel in the East is the
unbounded hospitality--excessive kindness--everywhere met with. Will
the numerous kind friends to whom we are so deeply indebted--a host
far too great to name--please accept this general acknowledgment as
at least a slight evidence that their goodness to us is not
unappreciated? At every stage of our travels I have been struck with
the cheering thought, that notwithstanding the indisputable fact
that a vast amount of misery seems inseparable from human life,
still the general condition of mankind is a happy one. Even the
Hindoo in India, or the Malay in the Archipelago--and these seem to
exist under the worst conditions--each of these constantly sees
cause to bless his good fortune and render thanks--sincere,
heartfelt thanks--to a kind Providence for casting his life in
pleasant places, and not in damp, foggy England, or amid American
frosts and snows. We have their sincere sympathy, I assure you. Nor
is patriotism a peculiarly western virtue. No matter who or what he
is, the man of the East in his heart exalts his own country and his
own race, and esteems them specially favored of the gods. And indeed
it is with nations as with individuals: as none are entirely good,
so none are entirely bad. The unseen power is at work in all lands,
evolving the higher from the lower and steadily improving all, so
the traveller finds much to commend in every country, and seeing
this he grows tolerant and liberal, and able more heartily to sing
with Burns--
"Then let us pray that come it may--
As come it will, for a' that--
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
It's coming yet, for a'that,
That man to man, the warld o'er
Shall brothers be, for a' that."
In which hope, nay, in the confident and inspiring belief in the
sure coming of the day of the Brotherhood of Man, I lay down my
pen and bring to a close this record of my tour round the world.
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