Part 1 (1/2)
Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera.
by Charles M. Taylor, Jr.
Preface.
In almost every walk of life, even among artists and photographers, we find those who are enthusiasts, and who work with such ardor and perseverance as to overcome all difficulties; while there are others who seem to desire the hard and rough places smoothed down, and the obstacles removed from their pathways. In writing this volume, it has been my purpose to enlist the attention of both of these cla.s.ses, and to bring before the ardent worker as well as the ease-loving, but no less interested, follower of art, places and scenes that afford unusual attractions for the brush and camera.
It might truthfully be said that in one's city may be found innumerable subjects of interest to both the amateur and professional artist; but change of food, scene and atmosphere is beneficial to both mind and body, and it is ofttimes wise to pa.s.s to new scenes and broader fields of observation.
The places described herein are not linked together by proximity of location and follow no regular line of travel; but are selected from various lands and from among widely differing peoples, for the sole purpose of locating scenes that teem with paintable and photographic subjects. I have endeavored to select nooks and corners where the artist and photographer will have suitable accommodations, and where the country with its fresh, pure air, and wholesome food may build up the health, while at the same time an opportunity is afforded for filling the portfolio with delightful bits of scenery and characteristic figure studies. It has also been my aim to tell of countries and places comparatively easy of access, and where those of limited means may find satisfactory accommodations.
At times I digress in my pictorial descriptions and offer some Bits of personal experience that have befallen me upon my journeys, which I trust may prove of interest and perhaps be of service to others travelling through the same places. It is with these purposes in view that the following pages have been written, and my hope is that they may serve to guide other lovers of the beautiful to some of the attractive spots and fascinating views which I have attempted to describe in these ODD BITS OF TRAVEL.
_Philadelphia, 1900._ C. M. T., JR.
_Scenes of the Present and Relics of the Past._
Pa.s.sing Vessels--The Ocean--Sudden Changes--Taking Photographs--The Landing Stage at Liverpool--New Brighton--In the Country--Liverpool by Night--Salvationists--Old Taverns--Chester--An English Home--Relics--The Cathedral--The River Dee--Leamington--The River Leam--Warwick Castle--An Old Mill--Through Kenilworth, Coventry and Stoneleigh--”The King's Arms”--Nature's Pictures.
We sight a steamer on our leeward side. A pa.s.sing vessel is a great excitement on an ocean voyage. From the time when she first appears, a tiny speck on the distant horizon, every one is on deck watching her as she slowly climbs into full view, then draws nearer and nearer to our floating palace. How companionable she seems in the vast waste around us. We wonder to which line she belongs; what is her name; her speed, and whither she is bound: and now that she is within hailing distance, we await eagerly the result of the usual interchange of questions and answers by means of small flags and a certain code of signals, well understood throughout the nautical world. The following are some of the questions asked: ”To what line do you belong?” ”What is your port?”
”Have you seen any icebergs?” ”Met any wrecks?” ”Are you a tramp?” and so on, until both sides are satisfied, then away she speeds on her course, while the pa.s.sengers and sailors on both s.h.i.+ps gaze at one another through their gla.s.ses until they are lost in the distance. The excitement is over, and we all return to our former occupations, or stand looking idly out to sea until once more there is a cry: ”A sail! A sail!” and we begin to hope that she too is coming our way. Straining our eyes through the powerful field-gla.s.ses, we perceive that she is coming toward us, and will probably cross our line. Larger and larger she appears as she steadily advances, until she attracts the attention of every one on deck. She is now quite close to us, and proves to be a Barkentine under full sail. We shout a greeting to the crew, and wave our handkerchiefs as she pa.s.ses, and the sailors smile in return and take off their caps.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune.” (_See page 16._)]
The ocean air is delightful and invigorating, the sky a perfect azure, and the translucent waves with their foamy edges stretch away in long beautiful curves. We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune, as the waters plash softly over the steamer's sides, and we speed steadily forward, with the rush and swish of the sea sounding in our ears with a wild sweet melody all its own. To fall asleep on deck amid these charming conditions is delightful indeed. But how quickly the scene changes.
Suddenly a shrill whistle from the Quartermaster summons all hands to the deck. Orders are rapidly given in quick sharp tones: ”Aloft. Take sail in.” ”Aye, aye, sir,” is the swift response, in a twinkling the sure-footed sailors are up among the yards, perched in seemingly impossible places, reefing the flapping sails in preparation for the coming storm. Dark clouds above are reflected in gloomy waves below, and heaving billows surround us, uniting with a furious wind that seems bent on the destruction of our n.o.ble s.h.i.+p. The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro, and the panic-stricken pa.s.sengers in the cabins are telling each other with pale faces that belie their words that they are not afraid, for there is no danger; yet they listen anxiously for every sound from above, and will not allow their dear ones to move beyond reach of their hands. There is no music now in the rus.h.i.+ng of the waves or the flapping of the sails. Old Neptune in his angry moods is not a desirable companion. But nothing lasts forever, and from storm and night and black despair the flower of hope arises, for there comes a lull, followed by a furious blinding onslaught, and then the spirit of the hurricane calls his followers and flies up, away, somewhere beyond our ken: the captain's face relaxes from its tense expression, and he looks proudly around his good s.h.i.+p which has come out victor in the struggle with the elements. One by one, the pa.s.sengers appear on deck, the purple clouds, after a final frown of disapproval at things in general, break into smiles, life on s.h.i.+pboard resumes its everyday att.i.tude, and all goes ”merry as a marriage bell.” Life is full of contrasts. This is a picture for which neither brush nor camera is ready. He who would paint it must draw it from its recess in his memory, or from some sheltered nook on sh.o.r.e, and be cool and calm enough to follow his favorite occupation in spite of the consciousness that life and death are struggling for mastery in yonder thrilling scene that will make him famous if he can but truly portray it upon his canvas.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”She proves to be a Barkentine under full sail.” (_See page 16._)]
But there are many tableaux and picturesque situations here, very tempting to the traveller who carries with him his sketch book or camera, and I entertain my companions as well as myself by photographing many a little group both comical and interesting in the world around us.
I invite our friends to the lower deck, where I wish to take pictures of some of the steerage pa.s.sengers. Amongst these are two typical products of the British Isles--one a robust Irishman of s.h.i.+llalah fame, and the other a bonny boy from Scotland. I make known to them my desire to have their photographs, whereupon the quick witted Irishman, without doubt knowing the quality of his face, which is one of the ugliest I have ever seen, begins at once to bargain with me for the privilege of transferring it to my camera. It is true I could have stolen a march on him by a snap shot, and he been all unconscious of the act, but wis.h.i.+ng to keep up the comedy I asked at what price he values his face. He replies that if I will take up a collection from the pa.s.sengers around us, he will accept that as full pay. My friends of the cabin enter into the spirit of the play, and quite a goodly sum finds its way into the h.o.r.n.y hand of the Hibernian athlete, who now, with a broad smile of satisfaction, intimates that he is ready to be ”taken.”
These pictures too join the gallery of our yesterdays. Swift has truly said: ”It is the talent of human nature to run from one extreme to another.” The long voyage is over, and all hearts rejoice in the sight of land, and now we are upon the landing stage at Liverpool, amidst the throng of excited pa.s.sengers, all moving hither and thither in search of baggage which seems hopelessly lost in the confusion of trunks, porters, policemen, drays and ubiquitous small boys. This is a fine field for the student of human nature. Here are groups of inexperienced travellers looking anxiously about them, wondering how it is possible to extricate their belongings from the indistinguishable ma.s.s before them, and laboring under the dread that when found, a fierce and merciless custom-house official will seize upon trunks and boxes, and deaf to all protestations, dump the contents, from a shoe to a hat, upon the floor, to the everlasting confusion of the owners and the amus.e.m.e.nt of the spectators. The cool indifference of those who have crossed the ocean many times is in marked contrast to these panic-stricken, and really pitiable creatures.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro.” (See page 19.)]
Then there is the ”happy-go-lucky” youth, who finds all this tumult a great joke, and who wanders carelessly about, with the serene confidence that ”things” will turn out all right; which they generally do. Here is the fas.h.i.+onable mother with her pretty daughters who evince a charming delight in everything that happens; the fussy mama who is sure that her baggage has not come ash.o.r.e, or that the officers of the custom-house are in league against her; children separated from parents or nurses, shrieking wildly in their terror, while others, more venturesome and curious, are in every one's way. Porters elbow their way through the crowd, cabmen shout in stentorian tones, policemen watch the ma.s.ses, and now and then in sharp curt tones call a delinquent to order.
A placid looking old gentleman with silvery hair and dignified demeanor stands in the midst of a picturesque party of young people, evidently his grandchildren. They all look so happy that it seems contagious, for the troubled countenances of their neighbors break into sympathetic smiles as they glance at this joyous family group. Every shade of human expression may be observed in this motley throng, and he who has eyes to see will find many a charming tableau, many a pathetic scene or diverting situation that would enrich a sketch book, or prove a valuable addition to the collection made by the ready camera. The various changes of expression are worth studying, for where ”luxuriant joy and pleasure in excess” appear at one moment, the next may behold an angry frown, and a struggle as if for life amid the surging tide of humanity.
”Now one's the better--then the other best Both tugging to be victor, breast to breast Yet neither conqueror, or is conquered.”
Taking a small steamer which plies between Liverpool and New Brighton, one may for a few cents, after a half hour's ride, land at an attractive and much frequented watering-place upon the bank of the Mersey River, opposite Liverpool. This resort is the pleasure-ground of the middle cla.s.ses, and is well worth a visit. Upon a holiday many thousands flock to its sh.o.r.es which remind one of Vanity Fair, where numerous phases and conditions of life are represented. Here is the indefatigable and annoying travelling photographer with his ”Four for a s.h.i.+lling. Take you in two minutes. Ladies and gentlemen, step in and see the finest pictures to be found in this country. Bridal groups a specialty.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Amongst these are two typical products of the British Isles.” (_See page 23._)]
Here are games of all kinds, pony and donkey riding, and all the shows to be found at the popular seash.o.r.e resort. The ”merry-go-round” is in full swing, with a crowd of spectators, among them many wistful children, watching the prancing camels and gaily caparisoned horses. The music here is quite inspiring, and the numerous small boys and maidens who lack the necessary pennies for this ravis.h.i.+ng entertainment gaze at their more fortunate companions with woe-begone countenances. Strains less animated, but more melodious attract us to a fine dancing hall, where the older lads and la.s.ses are tripping about in a lively manner.
The light dresses, colored ribbons and happy faces make a pretty picture. Along the beach are beautiful views, worthy of a master hand, while out in the country the typical English houses with their ma.s.sive thatched roofs and lovely surroundings of trees, lawns and gardens fair, cannot fail to captivate the artist's eyes.