Read Ebook: A Colored Man Round the World by Dorr David F

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 201 lines and 44885 words, and 5 pages

I came to the conclusion that they were not so careful in the expression of their views as I thought they ought to be. I was quite sure that they would not be allowed to use such treasonable language at Orleans or Charleston as that they had just indulged in.

Sitting in my room about an hour after hearing this nauseous language, Mary came for the clothes, for that is what she asked for. I requested Mary to wait until Monday morning, for the fact was, I had no clothes--they were in the Custom House. Here Mary began to show more familiarity than I had ever shown, but she only expressed enough to show me that she only wished to return for my clothes when they were ready. I gave her to understand that nothing would give me more pleasure than to have her return again for them.

Two weeks have gone by. I am now packing my trunk for London. In half an hour, the evening express train leaves here for a five hours' cruise over farms of rich and poor, like a streak of lightning. I find on the day of departure that the servants are like the servants of all parts of my own country. It is impossible for me to do anything for myself. I have offers from nearly all parts of the Hotel, volunteering to do all that is to be done and more too.--Before I commenced packing my trunk, I went down to the Bureau to have my bill made out. As I passed along the passage I saw a large man with slippers on, with a cap denoting Cookery, bowing and scraping. I instantly perceived that my fame, as an American, had reached the culinary sanctum. I requested the Clerk to have my bill ready, but found that I was too late in the information to be given. My bill was already made out.

A quarter to 5 o'clock, I showed to Mary, my sincere wishes for her welfare, and left my apartment. Her cap was neater than when I located there; her apron was whiter, and her hair was neater. I done my duty to the advice given by Murray, who is the author of the Guide Book of all Europe, Asia, and even Africa. He says that it is best to give a small bonus to the menials in public or private houses. The landlord, saw me in the coach and wished me a happy voyage to London. When the coach moved gradually away from that small Hotel, it carried lingering thoughts of friendship and comfort. I thought of the kind attention, and obedient but commanding language of all I had seen, and the moral came home to my heart, saying "you have value received." I reflected on Mary's cap and snow white apron; the old porter's hopeful countenance; the dining room servants; and how well they seemed to be pleased, when the driver stopped my coach and landed me at the London station in a good humor. All aboard! The Cars, dashed on with fury, and I found myself a happy man on my way to London.

LONDON.

On the outside of the Crystal Palace is a small, fairy-like house, erected for Prince Albert and her majesty the Queen of England to lunch in when they visit the Fair. It is said that the Prince planned it himself. In this pretty little house is enough furniture of various beauties to make an ordinary Fair itself.

The Police regulations about this Fair are admirable. There is no question that can be asked about this affair but will be properly and intellectually answered by any policeman. They are intelligent men and seem to take an interest as well as pride in this great Fair.

THE QUEEN IN HYDE PARK.

It is now 4 o'clock. All the streets within a mile of the Crystal Palace are crowded with people, instead of drays, carts, wagons and other impeding obstacles to the World's Fair. For a quarter of a mile down the street that leads to St. James' Square, where the Queen resides, at Buckingham Palace, I presume I can see 50,000 people bareheaded, that is to say, they have their hats off. But, at the further end of this quarter of a mile, I see a uniform commotion, and this commotion of heads are coming towards Hyde Park. I mean only the commotion but not the heads. These heads are being responded to from an open plain Calashe, that is coming as rapid as a Post Chaise from the battle field when bringing good tidings to a King.--The object of this exciting moment is the Queen of England. One minute and she is gone by, as she passed me, bowing on all sides to the crowd greeting her. I felt a sort of religious thrill pass over me, and I said to myself "this is civilization." Her Majesty was evidently proud of her people's homage; and her people were not ashamed to show their loyalty to their "gracious Queen." She was looking remarkably healthy for one living on the delicacies of a Queen. In fact she was too healthy in appearance for a Queen. Her color was too red and masculine for a lady. She was considerable stouter than I thought she was, and quite as handsome as I expected to find the great Queen. Seated opposite her, face to face, was her Maid of Honor; and seated by her side vis-a-vis to the Queen, was a couple of the "little bloods" of her Majesty and Prince Coburgh. I thought it strange that his highness, Prince Albert, was not accompanying the Queen. I learned afterwards that it was usual for the Queen to go in Hyde Park alone. I also found that the Prince and his courtiers were gone out deer stalking.

In the Queen's calashe was four greys. The driver rode the hindmost left horse. In his right hand he carried a light whip which was altogether useless. About 50 yards ahead of this moving importance, a liveried outrider sped on at a rapid speed, that the populace might know that he was soliciting their attention to making way for the Queen. He wore long, white-legged boots, and held his Arab steed as artful as a Bedouin sporting over a rocky desert. His other habiliments were red, save his hat, which was a latest style silk. The driver keeps him in view, and has nothing to do but mount and drive off after this courier or out-rider, who gets his orders at the Palace where to lead.

It is said that the Queen is not celebrated for a good temper. Like her symbol, the lion, she is not to be bearded by any one, no matter how important. She is a natural monarch and feels her royalty. Prince Albert is one of the handsomest men I ever saw. The like of the Prince's popularity among the ladies of the Court cannot be equaled by any nobleman in England; but that popularity must be general, it cannot be in spots, for the Queen is not unlike other women under the influence of the "green-eyed monster." Although Prince Albert's virtue has never been dishonored by even a hint, still the Queen is not to be too trusty. Prince Albert is a model of a "true gentleman." He could not suspect half as quick as the most virtuous Queen the world has ever been ornamented with.

The English people are alone in all things pertaining to domestic life. It would puzzle the double-width intellect of a hermit to tell what one was thinking about; and this nonchalence of air to surrounding circumstances is every moment blowing upon the object in their heart. France sets the fashion for the world, but what the morning paper say about the dress worn by the empress on the champs d'elysee yesterday, is not what the poorest maid servant is trying to find out to cut her calico by, but what her Majesty wore at Windsor or Buckingham. These people were wearing the skins of the beasts of their forests in the days of the Caesars' invasion, and barbarous as our Indians, but now they are the most civilized and christian power on this earth.

A German now sitting by my side tells me this is a gross subject for me to be writing upon. I asked what subject? He said Konigon . On reflection I find it true, and now retire from the beading of this chapter.

I AM GOING TO PARIS.

At 4 o'clock I found myself well seated in a French car, for the first time, direct for Paris. Here we go in a tunnel, and it is dark as ebony; here we come out; away go the cattle as if Indians were after them.

It would be impossible to conjecture that French farmers were lazy, for this is the Sabbath and down in the meadows I see farmers reaping. I can see towns in such quick succession, it would be useless to attempt to describe them. It is now 11 o'clock, and I am at my destination and being searched. Nothing found and I am pronounced an honest man. But my honesty, if there be any, is like Falstaff's, hid. I have two hundred cigars in my over and under coat, and they are, indeed, contraband and was one of the greatest objects of search; but, reader, if you pronounce this French stupidity you deceive yourself. It was French politeness that allowed me to pass unnoticed by this scrutinizing assemblage of Savans. If a man move among these lynx-eyed prefectures as a gentleman ought to, he is, once out of three times, likely to pass the barrier of their polite inclinations, whilst at the same time it would give them great satisfaction to believe that it would pay to examine you, were there a justifiable excuse for such rudeness, overbalancing the politeness which is characteristic of their whole national dignity. The French are proud of their national characteristics, and least of all nations inclined to trample them under foot.

It is now eleven o'clock, as I have before said, and I am in Paris, trying to get across the Boulevard des Italian. What I mean by trying is, picking my chance. I am no dancing master, and in this crowded street might not do the dodging right the first time.

FIRST DAY IN PARIS.

My first day ends by meeting the Princess on the steps, and having the pleasure of answering some inquiries of hers about sea-sickness, and pleasant ships of the Cunard Line.

FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS.

My "first day in Paris" commenced at night. If sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, I will commence this chapter in the day by saying, "where now! valet de place?" "Notre dame," he replied, and the coachman drove away towards the Boulevards. In half an hour's time, he reined before the door of that "Venerable old monument of reality and romance." I approached it like a timid child being baited with a shining sixpence. As my feet touched the sill, a peal came from the belfry, one of those sonorous twangs, that have made so many hearts flinch for hundreds of years in the "Bloody Bastile," and it vibrated from my timid heart to all parts of my frame. At this moment a reverend father offered me his hand, who had all the time been concealed beneath what one might well take to be a dark black coffin standing on end. I accepted his hand, and he led me quietly in that vast "sepulchre of kings."

In all directions I saw magnificent aisles, and altars with burning incense. Magnificent pictures representing all reverend worth, from the "Son of Man," to saints of France. Golden knobs with inscriptions thereon, adorned the footsteps of every visitor thereof, denoting the downwardness of kings who had once ruled nations. Whilst standing there awestruck with departed worth, I gazed downward with a submissive heart, when lo! I stood upon the coffin of a king! I quickly changed my position, but stepped upon a queen. The valet was relating to me the many different opinions the people had about stepping on noted personages, and how unnecessary it was to take notice of such things as they were dead, when I got disgusted at his ignorance, and stepped from a Queen to a Princess.

To describe this gorgeously furnished sanctum, it is enough to say, that all the brilliant artists of this scientific people have been engaged for hundreds of years in its decoration. Not only employed by the coffers of the Church of France, but by the throne that upheld numerous kings, as well as the wish of the whole populace of France, and the spoils of other nations. Hundreds of people from different parts of the world visit it every day, and all leave a franc or two. Thousands of Parisians visit it every day, and they make no mark of decay. It stands a living monument of Church and State.

Drive me to the national assembly, I said to the coachman. In ten minutes I was going up the gallery. Before I went in, the valet went to a member's coachman, and gave him a franc, and he gave in return a ticket to the gallery. Each member is allowed so many gallery tickets, and if he fails in giving them out, he makes his servants presents of them, and they sell them.

It was a garden about a square block in size. In all parts of it was shrubbery of the most fragrant odors. There was an immense number of little walks, with neat rustic seats for lovers to caress in, from the disinterested eye; and on my first preambulation, I got lost, and intruded more than was polite, but I did not know the importance of this discretion, until I perilously saw the danger. Had I gone on without stopping, I would have led myself to the orchestra, where and when I could have taken part in the amusement to the approbation of all present. When I discovered that I did not know what I was about, I stopped quickly and looked scrutinizingly around those snug little bowers. All in a minute out came a "bower lover," as furious as a cat. I asked him "where the ball was;" he discovered that I was no Frenchman, and could not have meant intrusion; he directed me to go straight ahead, and I left him in his bliss.

Like a round pigeon house on the end of pole, I pronounce the orchestra. A stair ran up to the pigeon house from the platform round the great pole, or post that supported it. A small enclosure was under the orchestra and occasionally the band would descend to the platform to play. Round this orchestra they danced. The spectators seemed to be exclusively foreigners; they made a ring around the gay lotharios as unbroken as the one they made around the orchestra. The bassy and fluty melodious Band, discoursed the sweetest waltz that ever tickled my admiration. Off they glided like a scared serpent, winding their curvy way as natural as if they were taking their chances. There they come! But there is some still going in the ranks, and there is still a vacancy. Twice they have made the circuit, and the hoop is complete. Now to me it is all dizziness, and it all looked to me as a moving body of muses from times of yore. Occasionally my eye would cling to a couple for an instant, but this was occasioned by the contrast between a large, fat, and heavy gentleman, that had become a troublesome neighbor to all that chose to get in his way. Whenever any of the lighter footed would discover their close proximity to his Appollo pedestals, like a shooting star they would flit away, and leave him monarch of all he surveyed.

I wish to describe a few of the most conspicuous, but I will wait for a quadrille, where I can get them to take their places in description.

The name of my valet de place is Oscar.

I swear by my father's head, I see a live Turk! Turban! sack hanging between his legs, more empty than Falstaff's! one of the genuine breed that followed Saladin to the plains of Palestine and stood before Richard's battle-axe with his scimitar! one of the head choppers of Christians! Perhaps the next will be the amiable countenance of "Blue Beard." The old Turk and his beard is trying to dance, but his bag won't let him. He is let down, and goes off the track. He is now mixing some oakum with tobacco. Now he is looking on, like a poor boy at a frolic--yes! he would if he could. I am sure his first duty to-morrow will be to hunt a mosque and give up dancing. He is leaving and trying to get his money back.

I now walked under the roof of a very extensive hall; in it was all kinds of refreshments. All one side of the hall was a door, so that when the crowd in the garden was likely to be overtaken by a shower, dancing went on in there. Immense crowds were seated about at tables smoking, and discussing politics, but not one gentleman had his foot on the table, except an American quietly seated in one corner in a profound soliloquy. He was chewing tobacco. I did'nt stop to see where he spit, for fear he might claim nationality. I learned that several of the quietly seated, were members of the National Assembly. It was now getting late, and gentlemen that had pretty mates were going through the gates in compact succession. Why gentlemen with pretty mates could not stay to the last was a mystery to me. But to solve that mystery I followed the crowd, and discovered that the nearer they got home, the more affectionate they got.

At 11 o'clock at night carriages were running in all directions from Balls, Theatres, Operas, Museums, Concerts, Soirees, Dancing Schools, and more amusements than could be named in one article.

I went to the hotel, seeking my own amusement. I could not conjecture a more comfortable place than the house I roomed at, after seeing all this night's bustle. Even if I could not find my own room, I was in the house of acquaintances.

I MUST ROVE AWAY FROM PARIS.

Here is the middle of August, nearly a month of uninterrupted sight seeing has passed away, and my curiosity is surfeited. I am now on the eve of roving away to "the hilly Oberland," where I will tire my limbs on the rocky Alps, and crave the comfort I here have enjoyed. I know I am but leaving Paris to enjoy the anxiety to get back.

Four days are gone by, and I have spent half a day at Chalon, and one at Lyons, the "silk city." In this last half a day, I saw more manufactories than I ever saw in one town. It is said that machines to the enormous power of two hundred horse, are in some of these factories. From 50 to 60,000 hands are engaged in manufacturing silk daily. This is a very rich looking city, and must indeed, be very rich. It is no doubt an older city than Paris. If a man was brought here blindfolded, after beholding its magnificence and wealth, he might easily be led to believe he was at the Capitol of France.

Some 200 or 300 Frenchmen were here passing away the summer, enjoying themselves fishing, dancing and gaming, for there is a very rich bank in a splendid Casino, to draw that class of France that live on excitement, I saw one American here who was broke. He wanted to relate his misfortunes to me, but I did not wish to hear them, as I was well posted before he tried to post me.

August is not yet gone, but I am a long way from Paris. Here I am, at the "City of Watches," Geneva, and lake Leman. Never did a better opportunity present itself to man, to make a good impression, than this beautiful day presents Geneva to me, her visitor. Not a cloud intervenes to Mount Blanc's snow clad peak, fifty odd miles away, and it looks as if it was merely over yonder hill, to the right of Byron's house, which is not two miles away. It reminds me of a still cloud, over a sun-set that indicates fair weather to-morrow. As Mount Blanc is covered with snow here in August, it makes another mountain of a lesser height that lies between here and Mount Blanc, appear as if its top was painted red. Mount Blanc, standing beyond, with her white capped peak, through the intervening heat of this hot day, the small one may well resemble a fiery painted mountain. This is the edge of Switzerland, and still the French is the prevalent language, which language seems destined to be universal throughout Europe.

After looking over some of the watch factories, I went to Mount Blanc on horses, and stayed two days at the a city at its base, and went across the country to Vevey, a small town on lake Leman. To my astonishment I saw two Americans here. One was Dr. Elliot, of Louisville, Ky., and the other Mr. N., of New Orleans. The old Dr. was very glad to see me. He and I had been sick companions together on the steamship Africa, where and when we both wished that we had never heard of Europe, but now that we were out of the slough, and traveling over the Republican land of Wm. Tell in the very best health and spirits, and like the roe and buck, we were happy in these Highlands.

Vevey is a very handsomely situated village, one would not forget it after seeing its picturesque groups of vineyards and rustic huts, interspersed with fairy-like palaces. It is a lively little place, and a great many English and rich Switzers come here in the dog days of summer.

After staying at Vevey a couple of days, I hired a carriage and plodded on over this hilly land to Switzerland's Capital, Bern. Bern is a very dull looking place, and most especially so for a Capitol. The second story of the houses hang over the pavement, so you can walk the town without getting wet. The language generally is German, so you see the close alliance of languages in Switzerland.

Five days more; I am in the Great Oberland, among the towering Alps. I traversed the whole of the valley of Interlaken, to the almost hidden village of Interlaken. The hotels are all small, generally not more than ten rooms, and are called pensions; queer name to create an appetite with.

English come here in summer for cheap living; there is also some Americans with patience enough to stay a short time and strengthen their means, that are most too frequently consumed at Paris, Brussels, or Vienna. As you leave the village to take a tour in a carriage up the great valley, you pass the ruins of an ancient castle, which once was the court of an ancient and noble race, whose ancestors are not to be traced, whose names was Unspunnin. A young knight belonging to another court scaled the walls and stole away Ida, the last male descendant's daughter, and made her his bride. Many years of bloody strife followed, after which the young knight came forth to Burkard, the lord of this castle and father of Ida, with his infant son in his arms and offered himself up, when the old man went into tears and made Rudolph's infant son heir of his numerous estates.

Farther up the valley a place is pointed out where a great murder was committed, and a noble young knight was the doer of the deed. He could never rest afterwards, so he fled from the sight of man, and has never been heard of since. In the immense vallies of perpetual glaciers, the snow has lain for thousands of years, and where the mountains drip upon the glaciers below, crevasses are made through and under. It is supposed that this knight crept into one of these and there froze up his heart, unseen by father, mother, sister, brother, friend or acquaintance.

This part of Switzerland is unlike any other part. It is nothing but mountains and small lakes. The lakes are as apt to be found on the tops of mountains as in vallies. From these large basins of water on top of mountains, are crevasses running through side rocks, and falling off makes the crevasses through and under the glaciers as I have described.

But here is a specimen of the intelligence of the Switzers of olden time. It is a little old town with a wall round it, and a hill close up to the wall all round. The walls could have done no more good than the hill if there was any spunk in the builders. The lake of Lucern comes up to this bigoted little spot. Its appelation is in honor of this important lake of catfish and suckers. It has a piece of art, too, a lion sculptured in the side of a rock outside the walls. It is the most natural artificial lion I ever saw. Here is Zurich, the prettiest city in Switzerland, notwithstanding Byron's praise of Geneva. Here is the famed "Zurich waters." The people here have not that staring stupidity so characteristic of the Swiss in other towns. They are all going along about their business as if they had lived among strangers all their lives. It is a thriving town, and they manufacture silks here on quite an extensive scale. In conclusion, Switzerland is a Republic, and all parts, except the ruggedest mountains, is in the highest state of cultivation. Wine and wheat are among their chief studies. They are devout christians. Every mile of their highways there is an image of the Son of Mary hung high up by the roadside, denoting his suffering, patience and forbearance. The Swiss are not a homely people. Their country is too mountainous for railroads.

SPICY TOWNS IN GERMANY.

The streets are crowded with soldiers, as in Paris, and the ladies go about the streets holding up their dresses just the right height to attract attention.

The rain is over, and there is no more attraction in the spicy town of Strasborg, so I am going to Baden Baden, the spiciest gambling place in Europe. In the Park is a great large building in the shape of a country stable, but full of splendor, called a Casino or conversation room, and this conspicuous appellation is conspicuously written on the front of the building. In this open hall--open to all--is gambling hours between each meal. The great gambling table is in the centre with numerous stools, such as are to be found in Stuarts, or any other fashionable Dry Goods store in America. On these stools are all classes of society that like excitement--dukes, earls, marquises, barons, knights, valets, and even liveried coachmen, betting from 5 francs to 10,000 francs. While I was in the Casino the Prince of Prussia broke the bank. Only thirty thousand francs is allowed in the Bank at once, and if broken no more business or amusement goes on that day in that Cassino; but there are others dealing on the same platform.

It is quite amusing to see the anxiety written on the brow of players, and to see the expression of disinterested persons, which we in America term "stuck on the game." I have seen more excruciating pain come from an outsider by the loss of some pile of gold, than I ever saw come from the expression of the loser. Here comes a Count who has been betting and losing on another bank, and he came to change his luck. He threw down his last thousand and it won; he let it all stand on the red, and this time it all goes into the bank. He exclaims, "that's my luck." Then the outsiders would cast an eye of pity on him, and say, he might have known that he would lose it, when the very reason they were not betting, was, they were broke on the same bank perhaps a week ago. I see six beautiful noble ladies betting, with their money snugly piled up before them. Their bets generally range from twenty to one hundred francs. But the most amusing part of this crowd's entertainment is, the airs that the money scampers put on. If a lady or gentleman should win, he pays it with an air of nonchalence and great pleasure; but if he wins, which he is sure to do in the end, he looks very melancholy, as if it were the result of accident, and in his opinion it was very vulgar for the bank to win. I put down a five franc piece, it won; I let the ten stand, it won; I let the twenty stand, it won; I moved it, and it lost, and I quit. He attempted to console me by saying I ought to have let it stand where it was, "what do you bet on now sir," said he; I don't bet any more said I, I have already lost five francs. He took me to be a green Yankee and said no more to me. Another amusing sight was there; it was two more broken American youths, who said they were waiting for Mr. Peabody to forward them money, and was "sound on the borry." I did'nt pride myself much here on my nationality, lest I would have some unprofitable fame. One of them owed two weeks' board in the British Hotel. He was mighty polite when he met me in company, and placed me under the truly painful necessity of being introduced to some person of note whom he had himself been a bore upon. He asked me if I was acquainted with the Grand Duke, at the same time looking over the heads of the players, as if he would call him if he could only get his eye on him. Then he insisted on my going down to the other Bank, where the chances were better, and where the Grand Duke of Baden would most likely be. I declined all invitations, and got a carriage and went out of town to see the ruins of the Erhreinstein Castle.

Having returned and paid my bill, I left this little German town to go to Heidelburg, where once dwelled a good Castilian, Frederick the 1st, of the Palatinate.

James lived between Baden Baden and Heidelberg two or three years, and wrote the two following novels, which gives a better history of these, the Castles of Heidelberg and Erhreinstein, than any other history gives or can be obtained at present. He lived at Carlsruth. The Grand Duke lives at Baden Baden, and Carlsruth, and Heidelberg, and he is here now at Heidelberg, and was here when my American friend was hunting him in the Casino.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet