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