The American traveler who makes his first tour abroad will come upon something new as soon as he visits a railway station. The cars are quite unlike those to which he has been accustomed at home; they have no passage-way running the whole length of the vehicle, and most of them present a Lilliputian appearance when compared with the American passenger car. They are divided into compartments which generally contain seats for eight persons, and are entered by doors at either end. The occupants of a compartment face each other, so that when the place is full half the passengers are riding backwards and the other half forwards. Some persons are made ill unless they have their faces in the direction they are traveling; a tourist who belongs to this category should make sure of his place by the aid of a porter, and there is generally no trouble about the matter. Those who are not disturbed by the aforesaid nausea prefer to sit with their backs toward the locomotive, as they escape a good deal of the dust and smoke that fall to the lot of those in the "front-face" position. There is a large window in the upper half of the door, and there are smaller windows at the ends of the rows of seats; if you have your back towards the engine, and are in an end seat, the open window in the door will give you all the air you need, while in the opposite seat you might find the breeze too strong. A seat on the windward side of the train is preferable to a leeward one, though much will depend upon the position of the sun and the scenery along the route.
On the Swiss railways many of the carriages are on the American system, with doors at the ends and a passageway in the center, but they still cling to the compartment idea, and have partitions with doors that permit free circulation. In Italy, and some other countries, you occasionally find a carriage with a saloon in the center, capable of seating twelve or sixteen persons, but such cars are not common, and are considered a luxury to be specially ordered. Some of the first-class carriages have the compartments arranged for six passengers—three on a side—but the majority are intended for eight. On every train you will usually find one or more carriages with a coupé at the end; it can be made to hold four persons, but there is no advantage in securing it for more than two. It is considered as a place de luxe, and can only be occupied by payment of an extra charge, which is usually about one-sixth of the price of the passage ticket. Two persons in a coupé are tolerably certain not to be disturbed by the entrance of other passengers, but a single passenger is not so safe. The coupé may be engaged beforehand on application to the station-master, but the companies will never guarantee that a particular train will contain coupé carriages.
The Pullman palace and sleeping-cars have not been introduced in Europe to any extent, notwithstanding persistent efforts by the Pullman Company for a decade or more. The Midland Railway Company, of England, has adopted them, and they are used on two or three smaller lines in the United Kingdom, but not in any great number. On the Continent they have found their principal footing in Italy, under the auspices of the Strada Ferrata del' Alta Italia (Railway of Upper Italy), which has adopted them for the comfort of passengers on the Indian mail route between London and Brindisi. On several of the continental lines the Mann Boudoir sleeping-car has been introduced; it is the enterprise of an American, and is a very serviceable vehicle, though less comfortable than the famous Pullman. The Mann car is the ordinary European railway carriage equipped with sleeping accommodations, lavatories and the like; the traveler must have a first-class ticket to be admitted, and he pays in addition about $2.50 per night. There are offices in Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and other large cities, where places may be secured in the Mann sleeping-cars just as they are secured in the Pullman cars in America.
Some of the companies have cars fitted up with the "fauteuil-lit," or bed-chair; it is the ordinary seat so arranged that it may be converted into a bed, or a poor substitute for one, and the extra cost is nearly, if not quite, equal to a third of the price of the ticket. Three fauteuils-lits fill a compartment, and the occupants of those away from the door must climb over the one nearest to it in getting in or out after the beds have been opened. Very few of the roads have any kind of sleeping-carriage whatever, and the night traveler on long journeys will miss the luxuries that he finds in the United States. "Bless the name of Pullman," he will often exclaim, as he crawls, dusty and disjointed, from where he has sat bolt or limply upright for hours, and contrasts his present feelings with those he would have at the end of a journey from New York to Chicago. There are no toilet facilities on the European trains, with the exception of those on the few sleeping-cars in use, and retiring-closets are by no means universal. Most of the coupés contain them, and they can generally be found in the baggage-wagon or under the brake-van. The keys of these "cabinets" are in charge of the conductor, who will readily open them on application, but they can only be reached or left while the train is halted at a station.
The carriages are of three and sometimes four classes, and their character is indicated in different ways in different countries. In England they are labelled "first-class," "second-class," or "third-class," as the case may be; in France they are marked "premiere," "seconde," "troisieme," or with the abbreviation of those words into figures and letters, and in Germany and some other countries by "I," "II," "III." Sometimes you find only the figures "1," "2," and "3" on the doors of the carriages to indicate the class, and sometimes the designation is by a number of stars, corresponding to the class. When you leave a carriage temporarily at a station, be careful to observe and remember its number, or you may have difficulty in finding it when you return. If you have the number and class well in mind, you will not be likely to make a mistake.
Nearly every train will have one or more compartments exclusively for ladies; they are labelled "Dames Seules" in France, "Damen Coupé," or "Fur Damen," in Germany, and "Per Signore" in Italy. The sterner sex is not allowed in these carriages under any pretext whatever; even the offer of a piece of money, so potent in other matters, will not secure the violation of the rule. Smoking is forbidden except in compartments specially designated for that amusement; in France smoking-carriages are labelled "Pour Fumeurs," and in Italy "Per Fumare." The Germans get at the subject in the opposite way by allowing smoking in all carriages save those wherein it is forbidden; these are labelled "Nicht Rauchen," but if an entire party in one of them chooses to suspend the rules, it may do so. It is customary in case of doubt to ask permission to smoke, and if any person objects, the rule must be obeyed.
In Germany the second-class carriages are quite comfortable, but they are apt to be crowded, and the traveler who desires plenty of room will do well to buy a first-class ticket. The first-class vehicles are upholstered with velvet, and the second with cloth; the former are often the more uncomfortable in hot weather, as the velvet retains more heat than the cloth. The third-class carriages have seats of plain boards, and the fourth-class no seats at all; if you travel fourth-class in Germany, you must stand and cling to an iron rod, or, if there are not many passengers, you may sit or lie on the floor. Fourth-class is rarely found in any other country than Germany, and only where there is a considerable amount of travel among those who cannot afford to pay for the higher grades. Second-class in Germany is nearly if not quite as comfortable as first-class in France or Italy, and this is so well understood that "mixed" tickets are sold for long journeys, entitling the holder to first-class in other countries and second in Germany.
In some countries, but not in all, there is a difference in fares, according to the speed of the train by which you take passage, so that a given distance costs less by a way-train than by an express. In France and Italy the quickest trains are generally made up of first-class carriages only, so that the economical voyageur must content himself to move more slowly than his first-class rival. The fares by mixed trains (freight and passengers) are often only about a third of those of the first-class expresses. This is particularly the case in Austria and all the South German States.
The allowance of baggage varies greatly. In England it is one hundred pounds, but the weight is not always taken, and even if it is considerably in excess, a shilling in the hand of the man who weighs it will cause a sudden diminution of its avoirdupois, so as to bring it within the limit. This is particularly the case on the roads where notices are posted forbidding the employés of the companies to receive gratuities, under penalty of dismissal. In France and Spain the allowance is thirty kilogrammes (about sixty-five pounds). In most parts of Germany it is fifty pounds, and sometimes sixty, and in Bavaria, Italy, and most parts of Switzerland there is no allowance, and every pound of luggage must be paid for. In Austria the traveler, no matter what class ticket he holds, is allowed fifty-five pounds. In Russia fifty-five, in Sweden sixty-six pounds to first-class and forty-seven to second-class, and in Denmark fifty-five pounds. The rates for excessive luggage are pretty high, and in the countries where no allowance is made the rate of transportation is worse than in any other.
The sale of tickets ceases from five to ten minutes before the departure of a train, and the registration of luggage not less than fifteen minutes. The traveler first buys his ticket and then goes to the baggage agent, who stands in a little office close to the baggage-counter. The baggage is weighed and the weight declared by one of the attendants; the agent takes the ticket, stamps it to show that it has received its baggage allowance, then fills out a receipt stating the number of trunks, their weight, and the amount paid (if any). Where there is no excess there is usually a charge of ten centimes (two cents) for the receipt; the paper should be carefully guarded, as its production is necessary at the destination to secure the delivery of the baggage. The attentive traveler who closely scans his receipt will find that there is a column for dogs, and if he investigates the train he will discover a compartment for those animals, with grated doors.
On most of the English roads no receipt is given for baggage, and the traveler must take the chances of its loss. A label showing its destination is pasted on your trunk, and when you are at the journey's end you must go to the platform where the contents of the van have been discharged, and pick out your property. Attempts have been made to introduce the American checking system in England, but the English are too conservative to take up with such a Yankee notion.
Ticket and baggage arranged, the traveler is permitted to go to the waiting-room. There the intending passengers (no others are admitted) are huddled together till within a few minutes of the departure of the train, and very often the room is overcrowded, and cheerless in the extreme. Passengers are not allowed on the platforms till everything is ready, and sometimes there is hardly time for all to get comfortably seated before the train moves. Latterly some of the roads have made a reform in this matter; the Paris, Lyon & Mediterranee was the first to relax the rules and allow passengers to go direct to the platform, after passing the supervisor of tickets, instead of shivering or crowding in the waiting-room. On some lines the porters are not permitted to enter the waiting-rooms, and passengers must carry their own satchels and other impedimenta, while on others the porters can go direct to the carriages, and secure desirable seats for actual or expected return in cash.
On account of the high tariff for extra baggage, travelers on the Continent usually carry more in their hands than would be the case with the same people in America. Parcels may be stowed under the seats or in the racks overhead, but no one is allowed to have anything that will be an inconvenience to others in the same compartment. This rule is not rigidly enforced, as will often be seen; the old woman with six bandboxes and three bundles is as common in Europe as she was traditionally in America, and very often it is impossible for eight passengers to dispose of all their "traps" without holding some of them on their knees.
Railway fares are much higher on the eastern side of the Atlantic than on the western, and those of England are dearer than the fares on the Continent. The English fares are threepence, twopence, and one penny a mile for the respective classes; i.e., about six cents, four cents, and two cents of American currency. In France the rate is calculated at twelve centimes, the kilometre which is equivalent to very nearly twenty centimes (four cents), the mile. This is for first-class; third-class is half the price of first-class, and second-class midway between the two. Italian fares are a trifle higher than those of France, while those of Belgium, Bavaria, Sweden, Norway, and Germany are lower. A rough calculation of the cost of travel by railway may be made by allowing four cents to the mile for first-class, and the corresponding rates for the other classes. Another mode of ready reckoning is to allow five francs (one dollar) per hour for the time required for transit from one city to another by first-class ordinary trains, and six francs an hour for the fast expresses. For example, the fare from Paris to Marseilles is one hundred and six francs, twenty centimes, and the distance is eight hundred and sixty-three kilometres, or five hundred and thirty-nine miles. There is a train called the "Rapide" that runs through in fifteen hours, and makes only eight stoppages; the ordinary express takes a trifle over twenty hours for the same journey, and the so-called "Directe" train requires twenty-three hours. The direct train contains carriages of the three classes, but the express and "Rapide" are exclusively first-class. Any one who is curious in arithmetic can apply the rules given above, and will find that they bring the result near enough for rough estimates.
Return tickets are sold at various discounts from the full rates, generally about twenty-five per cent. less than the double fare. They are sometimes good only for the day of issue, but are usually available for two days, and in some countries for four or five. On some lines they do not issue return tickets for express trains, or for trains exclusively first-class. The holder of a return ticket (first-class) often feels that he is harshly treated when refused a place on a train of first-class coaches only, and if he cannot speak the language, it is impossible to make him comprehend the rules of the company.
Circular tickets are issued at a great reduction from the single fares, but they are subject to certain restrictions that go far toward counterbalancing the saving in money. A circular ticket is limited in time, according to the localities it covers; it may be available for only one week from the date, or it may be good for three months, or even longer. The journey can commence at any point of the route, but once begun it must be continued in the same direction, and on the route indicated, and if it is not completed within the time specified, no money will be returned for unused coupons. If the traveler halts at any intermediate station not indicated on the itinerary, he must pay his fare to the next indicated station on resuming his journey, and he is also required to have his ticket stamped by the proper official when he arrives at a station where he is to stop.
These circular tickets are highly popular, and have been the means of creating a great deal of travel by reason of their cheapness. A tourist who selects his route and finds a circular ticket that covers it will make a large saving over the single fares from one place to another. To illustrate: the writer once bought for one hundred francs a circular ticket (first-class) with the following itinerary: Paris, Vichy, Lyons, Grenoble, Aix-les-Bains, Culoz, Besançon, Dijon, Paris, with the option of returning from Grenoble by way of Lyons, Macon, and Dijon to Paris, instead of passing by Besançon and Dijon. The single fares from place to place would have aggregated something over two hundred francs for the journey. In many instances the saving by a circular ticket is considerably more than one-half.
The circular tickets issued by the railway companies should not be confounded with those sold by private individuals in London, Paris, New York, and other cities. The railway companies sell their own tickets at their own offices or agencies; it frequently happens that the most direct of the lines will have nothing to do with the "tourist agencies," so that those who patronize the latter establishments find that they are sent by roundabout ways from one great city to another.
At all the principal ticket-offices on the railway lines there is a table of fares near the window; it is printed in large letters and figures so that there is little chance of a mistake. And in most countries there is an additional security to the traveler; the fare is printed on the ticket in plain figures, so that the most laudable intentions of the seller to cheat the stranger may be frustrated, provided the latter knows enough to count his money.
In Northern Europe, especially in Russia, the carriages are warmed by stoves, though sometimes the first-class passengers are the only ones having the benefits of heat. In Central and Southern Europe long cylinders of sheet iron containing hot water are thrust into the compartments at intervals more or less regular; by means of these cylinders the traveler can keep his feet comfortable, and if the weather is not too frosty, they give all the heat to be desired in the compartment. In cold weather the railway traveler should be well provided with wraps, as the night air has a penetrating familiarity, especially when the wind is blowing.
Eating-rooms, or "buffets," are abundant, and generally good. The best are on the long lines where there is a large amount of through travel, so that a good patronage is secured, and the trains halt there at convenient hours for meals. The table d'hote system prevails, but there are always plenty of small tables where those who do not want a "square meal" can be accommodated. The price of a table d'hote breakfast varies from two francs, fifty centimes, to four francs, and that of a dinner from three francs to five francs, wine included. On most of the lines the keepers of the restaurants are required to post a notice in a conspicuous place, showing the prices of meals, so as to prevent any possible cheating; any complaint addressed to the management of the road is pretty certain to receive attention, as the companies are desirous of having the best possible service.
A table d'hote breakfast or dinner on the great lines, especially on the Paris, Lyon & Mediterranee, is the perfection of railway feeding, and the most rapid eater the world ever saw cannot complain of the dilatoriness of the waiters. The conductor generally telegraphs the number of passengers on the train, so that the restaurateur knows pretty nearly how many will patronize him; as the train rolls into the station, the first dish of the course is placed on the table, and you have only to drop into a chair and begin eating. Before you are through with the first course the second is at your side, and the third is there before you can possibly finish with the second. Thus the meal is served, and when it is near its end the cashier passes around and collects the stipulated money. The time allowed is from fifteen to thirty minutes; five minutes before the moment of starting, a bell rings or a gong is struck, or perhaps a horn in blown, and the signal is repeated four minutes later, and when you hear the second signal there is no more chance for delay, as the train, like time and tide, will wait for no man. The form of the signal, and also the period of giving it, are not the same in all countries, and the verdant traveler will do well to watch the motions of his neighbors, and be governed accordingly. The buffets are divided into the first, second, and third class at the great stations, and there are waiting-rooms with the same distinctions. In France the smaller stations are known as "stations," and the larger ones, especially at terminal points, are called "gares." "Bahnhof" in Germany, and "stazione" in Italy means the same as "station" in England and "depot" in the United States.
On some of the roads meals are served in baskets, so that they can be eaten while the train is in motion. An hour or more before you arrive at the restaurant station, the conductor, or some other employé of the company, takes your order for a breakfast or dinner according to a bill of fare which he presents. The order is telegraphed forward, and you are told to ask for a certain number, by which it has been indicated. When the train reaches the station a basket containing what you have ordered is handed in through the door of the compartment, and the train moves on. The baskets are specially made for the business, and contain compartments for everything needed in the meal, together with the inevitable bottle of wine. You eat at your leisure, and at a stopping place an hour further on the basket is removed and sent back to the place whence it came. The plan has certain merits, and likewise certain defects; to eat without hurry and without delay is certainly a great advantage, but it is not altogether comfortable to breakfast or dine from a wicker basket that rests on your knees, and it frequently happens that the pepper, salt, or some other necessary trifle, has been overlooked.
A private lunch-basket is as desirable on a European railway as on an American one, and may be stocked to suit the owner's taste. On a long journey provide yourself with a bottle of water, as there is no water-cooler on the train, and you might suffer from thirst without the means of alleviating it. The advocates of principles opposed to the total abstinence theories of Father Mathew will not forget their pocket-flasks with stimulating contents.
Measures of distance on the railways in the British Dominions are in English miles, as in America. In France, Switzerland, Italy, Spain, and Belgium, they are in kilometres; in Russia, in versts, and in Germany in German miles. The kilometer is five-eighths of an English mile, and the verst very nearly the same; the German long mile equals five and three-fourths English miles, and the German short mile is about three and a half English. The rapid spread of the metric system of weights and measures will probably make the kilometer the unit of all railway distances on the Continent in the next decade. Trains are run by the time of the capitals of their respective countries, without regard to the longitude, and you will often find the local clocks a long way ahead or behind those of the railway station.
On arriving at a continental railway station there will be an abundance of porters to carry your hand-baggage to the hotel omnibusses that wait outside for passengers. You have only to indicate the name of your hotel and the porter who takes charge of you will lead the way to its carriage. You hand the receipt for your heavy baggage to the porter, after depositing the light impedimenta in the omnibus, and follow him to the salle des bagages, where you have a period of waiting, more or less tedious. When the trunks are ready for delivery you point out the pieces which the porter has gathered according to the numbers on them, and the formalities of the octroi begin.
The octroi is a continental institution, distinct from the custom-house, but greatly resembling it, whereby every article of food or drink entering a city pays a tax. The officers of the octroi rarely request a traveler to open his trunks, as they know very well he is not likely to transport mutton-chops, cheese, or wine, at the high rates charged for railway luggage. But they are sure to ask whether you have anything liable to the octroi, and when you answer in the negative you may depart. The porter mounts your impedimenta to the top of the omnibus, and receives his fee—five cents for each heavy parcel, and five or ten for all the light ones together—you take your seat, and when all is ready you rattle away to the hotel. There are plenty of cabs and two-horse carriages to be had at the stations, if you do not wish an omnibus, but they are more troublesome than the other vehicles in consequence of the acquisitive tendencies of the drivers, and the stranger ignorant of the language had better reject them. In some cities, notably in Berlin, you have no choice in the selection of your carriage, but must take the first that is offered. As the drivers come to the station before the arrival of the train each of them hands to an official a metal check bearing his number. These checks are strung on a cane or rod, and when the train arrives the rod is reversed, and the numbers come off in the order in which the cabbies presented themselves. The system is a fair one for the drivers, but bad for the public, as it often happens that a party of three or four persons will find themselves assigned to a two-seated cab; in such case they must keep it, and if they cannot stow themselves into it somehow they can take an additional vehicle.
In most of the large cities of Europe the railway companies have an omnibus system not unlike that of the western cities of the United States. On arriving at the station you can engage an omnibus, if you happen to be three or more, and it is as much under your control as a private cab would be. These vehicles are of all sizes, carrying from four up to thirty-two persons, and there is a gallery on the top for baggage. You can telegraph ahead if you want to make sure of having an omnibus at the station; address your despatch to the Chef de gare, and say for how many persons you desire the omnibus.
These omnibusses are specially useful for family and other parties of three or more who are about leaving a city and are not stopping at a large hotel. Go to one of the company's agencies the day before, and say by what train you intend to leave and the number of your party, and the omnibus will be at your door at the proper time. The cost of a vehicle of this sort is less than for a carriage of the same capacity, and the printed tariff leaves no chance for a mistake.
Compared with the United States the continent of Europe has a small amount of inland navigation. Russia contains more rivers where steamers may run than all the rest of Europe, and until within a few years her steamboat interest was greater than that of her railways. The Rhine is the most important stream of Western Europe, and the Danube has the greatest navigable length of any river outside of Russia. The Danube has a serious impediment at the Iron Gates, where a succession of rapids and a channel full of rocks prevent the passage of boats. From the days of the Romans to the present there has been talk of a canal around the Iron Gates, and there are the remains to-day of a canal that was begun by one of the Roman emperors, but never completed. From the head of navigation at Ulm to its entrance into the Black Sea the Danube has a course of more than seventeen hundred miles, while the Rhine can only claim a navigable distance of less than five hundred. The Rhone and its tributary, the Saone, are classed as navigable streams, but their currents are so swift that their steamboat interest has never been an important one, on account of the great cost of making an ascending journey. Many of the smaller rivers of Europe are navigated by freight-boats only; as a general statement it is fair to say that the inland navigation available to the tourist is comprised in the Rhine and Danube rivers, and the Swiss and Italian lakes. In Russia he will find the Volga, the Don, and the Dnieper rivers worthy of attention, and, if he is on the lookout for more streams, he may venture on the Vistula, and one or two others of lesser consequence.
All the Swiss lakes are well equipped with steamboats, and the service is prompt enough to suit the most exacting. On the lake of Geneva, for example, there are half a dozen boats each way, daily, the whole length of the lake, some of them stopping at every landing, and others making only two or three halts. The boats are long and narrow, and present a most insignificant appearance when compared with the steamers of the Hudson and Mississippi; the after part is reserved for the first-class passengers, who can sit under an awning on deck, or retire to a cabin below. The second-class is forward, and in fine weather is preferable to the first, since the latter has all the benefit of the smoke and cinders as they blow aft. The boats on the Swiss lakes are for day service, and contain no sleeping-cabins, but there are sofas and couches on which an invalid may recline, provided the craft is not too much crowded. Meals are served a la carte, and sometimes at a fixed price; the latter are not to be recommended on the majority of the boats, though they are cheaper than meals a la carte.
Tickets are bought at the clerk's office, and the traveler is advised to visit that locality and settle his fare as soon as he goes on board. No receipts are given for baggage, and if there is an excessive amount it is charged for. There is an attaché of the boat who looks after the baggage—expecting a fee as a matter of course—but even with his watchfulness it behooves the stranger to keep an eye out for himself, or he may find on reaching his destination that his trunk has gone ashore by mistake at some other landing. In selecting a seat on deck take one on the side of the boat opposite the sun, so at to avoid the reflection on the water, and whenever you leave your seat for a moment put a satchel or some other article in it. Fashionable travelers on the Swiss lakes are not always respectful of the rights of others, and will drop into an eligible locality the moment it is vacated, even though they know your absence will be exceedingly brief.
The description of the Swiss steamers will apply in general terms to those of the Italian lakes. The boats are for day service only, and their models are very nearly those of the Swiss. Most of the attachés of the boats, especially the waiters in the cabin, speak French, and occasionally one may be found who can grapple with English. Some of the boats are much finer than others, and the traveler will do well to make enquiries before taking passage. When embarking at an intermediate landing buy a ticket immediately, or you may be charged for the whole distance from the steamer's starting point. This custom is not altogether unknown in other countries; there have even been occasions when it cost less to go from New York to Albany than to a point half-way between those cities, as many an individual can testify.
For a long time the steamers on the Rhine were of the model already described, and the accommodations for passengers were decidedly limited. But with the increase of travel there has been a great improvement, and now there is a line of "American steamboats" plying the river so famous for its crumbling castles and historic associations. The steamers of the American rivers have been taken as models for these boats, and some of them are finely fitted up and contain many features of real comfort. They are fast winning the favor of the Germans, and, of course, are patronized by Americans and English to the neglect of the old boats. The traveler should make sure of the name and character of a boat before buying his ticket and embarking, or he may find himself delegated to an antiquated tub, with limited accommodations and snail-like speed, when he had expected to be on a floating palace.
The tariff of fares is carefully arranged, and is posted at the window of each ticket-office, so that there can be no doubt as to the proper sum to be paid. In most instances tickets are sold at the offices on the docks, but it is well not to purchase at an intermediate landing until the boat is in sight; boats are liable to detention from various causes, and, if a tourist is in a hurry, he can take the railway, which follows the bank of the Rhine, or very near it, all the way from Dusseldorf to Mayence.
On the Rhine steamers meals are served a la carte and at fixed prices, but there has been a tendency of late years to abolish the fixed-price system and serve only a la carte. On most of the boats there is a table d'hote breakfast or dinner at certain hours, and a notice thereof is given by the ringing of a bell. The waiters are fond of delaying the collection of a passenger's bill till just as he is going on shore; by so doing they have a better chance of imposing on him than when his memory is quite fresh as to the items with which he can be properly charged.
Baggage is not checked unless an extra price is paid, but there is a free allowance of one hundred pounds for each passenger. The charge for guaranteeing the safety of baggage varies from two to ten cents a parcel, according to its size and estimated value; when this amount is paid the company is responsible for loss, and will indemnify the owner according to a fixed tariff. Everything goes by tariff on the Rhine, except the fees to the waiters, and the current of the river, and the wind.
On the Upper Danube, from Ulm to Linz, and from Linz to Vienna, the steamers are small and the accommodations limited, but on the lower part of the stream there is a different state of affairs. The Danube Steam Navigation Company has some large boats elegantly fitted up, and though they are deficient in several things they remind the American of home. The sleeping accommodations are rather limited, as there is only a common cabin with two or three tiers of berths, unless a high price extra is paid for a private room. The dining-saloon is airy and well lighted, and the table generally excellent. There are two, and sometimes three, classes of steamers; the fastest is the "Accelerated," which makes only the few principal landings, and leaves the other boats to perform the details of the service. On the "Accelerated" boats meals are included in the fare, and the payment for them is compulsory, while on the other steamers the traveler pays only his passage, and the meals are an extra that he may take or leave alone. There is a Hungarian line with its headquarters at Pesth, and on the lower part of the Danube there is a Turkish line that has periodical fits of suspension, and once in a while disappears for months at a time. There is a considerable amount of travel between Central Europe and Constantinople by the Danube route; a traveler from Vienna goes as far as Rustchuk by the river, and then proceeds (in about eight hours) to Varna by rail. From Varna is a run of fourteen hours by steamship through the Black Sea, and down the Bosphorus, till the domes of Saint Sophia's Mosque rise to view.
The steamers on the Russian inland waters leave much to be desired in the way of personal comforts, and the most that can be said of them is that they are better than no steamers at all. On some of the rivers, especially on the Volga, there are some boats that are fairly equipped, but the cooking is not the best in the world, and the passenger must expect to do a good deal of roughing it. The first-class travel is not sufficient to pay for anything like a good service and liberal table, and if one is on the hunt for luxuries he will keep away from the steamboat service in the land of the Czar.
On the Siberian lakes and rivers there is a steamboat service of very limited character. The great rivers, with the exception of the Amoor, flow into the Arctic Ocean, and consequently their only business is a local one. There are only two or three steamers on the Obi, and the same number on the Yenesei; the commerce of the Amoor maintains from twenty to twenty-five steamboats, and there are less than half a dozen on Lake Baikal and its outlet, the Angara. All these steamers are small, compared with American boats, and their accommodations leave much to be desired. The first cabin is usually an open room, with wide sofas running all around it, and on these sofas the traveler makes his couch with his own bed-clothing, none being provided by the boat. The ticket does not include food, and the table is supplied by the captain, at an expense of about a dollar a day for each passenger. A traveler across Siberia must expect hard fare and poor accommodations, and find the compensation for his privations in the novel scenes the journey affords.
The name of steam lines in the waters adjacent to Europe is more than legion, and the enumeration of them would occupy several pages of this volume. Bradshaw's Continental Railway and Steamboat Guide contains a list of these lines, corrected from month to month, according to the changes that have occurred; the information is conveyed in skeleton form something like the following:
"Malta to Tripoli.—By a French steamer, three times a month. Twenty-two hours. First-class (including food), £2, 8s."
"London to Honfleur.—The Villa de Lisbon and the Villa de Paris twice a week."
All the great steamship companies issue pamphlets (gratuitously) containing the information needed by travelers. These can be obtained by writing to the office of the company, or by personal application, and it is advisable for a traveler who expects to wander away from terra firma to provide himself with a stock of these documents. They are of essential advantage in laying out a route, and by a little study a tourist may often save much time and money. Take the following as an illustration:—
In 1873 the writer was at Vienna to attend the great exhibition of that year. At the close of the affair he projected a journey to Syria, Palestine, and Egypt, and persuaded a friend to accompany him; the time of each was limited, and it was desirable to make the trip as expeditiously as possible consistent with doing it thoroughly. Information concerning the facilities of eastern travel was difficult to obtain, and it was concluded to postpone final arrangements until reaching Constantinople. There were three companies engaged in navigating the waters of the Levant, but no one of them would give the least information about another. "You can buy a through ticket by our line," said the agent of each, "and then you may stop over at each port till the next ship of our company comes along." This seemed fair enough, and is what is done by the majority of tourists, but it was thought possible to improve on the plan.
The handbooks of the companies, French, Austrian, and Russian, were obtained, and with these books before them the twain sat down one evening in the hotel. It required a couple of hours to arrange a route, but by dint of hard work it was accomplished. The result was something like the following:—
Leave Constantinople by Austrian Lloyd steamer of the —th, and go to Syra, one of the Greek Islands. There connect with a steamer of the same company for Athens.
Spend eight days in and around Athens, and return to Syra by an Austrian Lloyd ship.
Spend a day at Syra, and then take the fortnightly French steamer for Beyrout. It stops two days at Smyrna, and part of a day at each of half a dozen points including Rhodes, Alexandretta, and Latakieh, so that a fair view of those places can be had.
Eight days after the arrival of the French steamer at Beyrout, an Austrian one will touch there. This time will suffice for a journey to Baalbeck, and Damascus, and the return to Beyrout, so as to catch the Austrian steamer, and proceed to Jaffa, the port of Jerusalem.
Eleven days later a Russian steamer will touch at Jaffa, on her way to Egypt. Eleven days will be enough for Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the Dead Sea, and the river Jordan, together with the return to Jaffa, to catch this Russian steamer.
The plan was carried out to the letter. There was plenty of time for seeing everything, and no loss in waiting for ships in the different ports, save in a single instance that had no serious consequences. The scheme had a decided advantage over the ordinary plan of buying a ticket by a single line, and depending only on the ships of that line. In the latter instance you are compelled to wait for a fixed period, while by traveling independently, and knowing the movements of all the ships serving the ports in which you are interested, there is often a material saving of time.
In addition to the regular lines, there are many independent steamers trading along the coast of the Mediterranean and through the north seas, and by scanning the advertisements, or enquiring at the steamship offices, the traveler will often find something decidedly to his advantage. For example, the writer was once in Singapore, at the Straits of Malacca, intending to go to Java. There is a steamer once a week from Singapore to Batavia, the capital of Java, and the vessel for that particular week was a French one that had only sixteen berths in her cabin; it was whispered around the hotel that she would be terribly overcrowded, as she had nearly fifty passengers booked, and perhaps more. By enquiring at the shipping offices it was ascertained that a Dutch steamer had been at Singapore for repair, and would return the same day and hour as the French one, but she had not been advertised, and nothing would have been known of her in the ordinary way. The writer and his friend secured passage on the Dutch steamer, and had a pleasant voyage; she had the same accommodations as the French ship, and only seven persons to occupy them, while the latter had fifty-two! They were packed somewhat after the manner of sardines in a can, and had a hard time of it, while every passenger on the Dutch ship had a room to himself, and all the space he wanted at the dinner table.
The rules and regulations on the steamers in and around European waters vary somewhat, according to the nationalities of the companies. The American traveler will run across what will be to him a curious custom, on some of the Mediterranean lines; the supplying of food, and the service of the table generally is not undertaken by the company, but is leased or farmed out, the same as a hotel-keeper in New York leases the space for a cigar or newspaper stand. The consequence is that the table will vary considerably on different ships of the same company, in proportion as the steward is liberal or the reverse. It also happens frequently that the captain and steward are not on friendly terms, as the latter does not run the table in accordance with the ideas of the former; the steward is not responsible to the captain, and cannot be removed by him, and as long as the contract is a favorable one for the company, and the passengers make no complaint, the managers of the concern are likely to uphold the steward as against the captain. On most of the French and Italian lines it is useless to make any complaint to the captain concerning the table, and the steward will laugh at you for so doing. But if you write your objections in the official complaint book, the situation is changed at once.
This matter requires a little explanation. On all Italian mail steamers, and on some of the French and Austrian ones, there is a book accessible to the passengers for the express purpose of receiving their complaints. The pages are numbered consecutively, and they are stamped by the chief maritime officer of the port where the ship is registered, and at the completion of every voyage the book goes to that functionary for examination. If there is any complaint it is investigated, and receives the proper punishment, at least such is the general belief. The service of the table of an Italian steamer has been changed from bad to good by the mere threat of writing a complaint, and on one occasion, when the matter had been written out, the captain and officers subsequently begged the complaining passenger to add a postscript to the effect that the cause of his growl had been removed, and he was willing to withdraw his remarks. They had bestirred themselves to make things pleasant, and so he complied with their request, but not till the steamer was in sight of port, lest their vigilance might relax. It is a pity that the same system is not in vogue on some of the trans-Atlantic steamers, as it would have a good effect now and then on the discipline of the servants.
One great inconvenience of travel in the Mediterranean, and also at many ports on the eastern and northern coast of the Continent of Europe, is the necessity of landing or embarking in row-boats. The boats are rarely supplied by the company owning the steamers, but must be secured by the passenger, and as the boatmen are rapacious, and more or less dishonest (generally more), the negotiations are not pleasant. Besides it is no joke when the sea is rough, and the distance long, to be tossed in a skiff between shore and steamer, or steamer and shore, especially if one is inclined to sea-sickness, and not over-confident in the safety of the craft that carries him. The operation of landing or embarking when the waves are tossing, has an element of risk about it, and many a person has been dropped into the water in stepping from a skiff to the gangway stairs, or from stairs to skiff. The steamship companies shirk the responsibility of transfers in harbors where they connect with ships of their own lines; in the voyage just mentioned, from Constantinople to Syra, and from Syra to Athens, the tickets were purchased through from the Golden Horn to the Piraeus, but on reaching Syra the party was told it must pay its own expense for transferring to the branch vessel that was waiting for them. Gouty, feeble, and timid persons are warned that a tour of the Mediterranean is not to be undertaken lightly, by reason of this impossibility of landing directly at a dock. Of all the ports of the Mediterranean there are not half a dozen where the steamers lie at docks, so as to render the small boat unnecessary.
For general advice concerning the business of going down to the sea in ships, the reader is referred to a previous section of this volume. The precautions against sea-sickness are as good (or as useless) in the one case as the other, and the stewards and other employés of the ship are much alike, whatever their nationality. On the French, Italian, and Austrian steamers, the chief steward has the assignment of rooms instead of the purser; the latter functionary is rarely seen by the passenger, and is supposed to be busy with his accounts of the freight. Consequently the chief steward is the proper personage to evince any friendly disposition for, and he is generally open to arguments of a financial character. A five-franc piece will render him attentive, for ten francs he is obsequious, and for twenty he may possibly harbor the proposal to throw the captain overboard, and put you in chief command.
For parties containing ladies it is well to remember that English, French, or Austrian steamers on the Mediterranean and Black Sea lines, are preferable to other nationalities, as they generally carry stewardesses, while the others do not. There are exceptions to this rule on some of the Italian ships on long voyages, but they are decidedly rare. In the matter of cleanliness, the various nationalities may be ranged in the following order:—English, French, Austrian, Russian, Italian, Spanish, Greek.
The Turkish and Egyptian steamers are hardly worth including in the list as they have at best very poor accommodations for occidentals of the sterner sex, while they are totally unfit for ladies to travel on.
In Northern Europe the German, Dutch, Swedish, Norwegian, and Russian ships are pretty nearly alike, and if there is any difference it is in the order named. All the northern nations are good sailors, and the captains are competent navigators; the Latin races are less reliable in this respect than the Teutons and their kindred, and the Orientals are the worst of all. Of the Latins the French are the best, and especially those from Marseilles and its vicinity. The Italians were once hardy navigators, and the mariners of Genoa, Venice, and other maritime cities of Italy have a noble record; but in these latter days they have degenerated very seriously, and their triumphs on the sea are not of great renown. The best of Italian seamen and sailors come from Genoa, Sardinia, and Corsica,—the latter, though belonging to France, may be classed as Italian, since the people are of that lineage and speak the language of the peninsula. In the same way the Austrian Lloyd steamers belong properly to the Italian classification, since Trieste, the headquarters of the company, is essentially Italian, and it is not unusual to find captains and other officers of the company who speak no other language, although German is the tongue of the country under whose flag they sail.
The Spanish sailors are a sad travesty on the men that four hundred years ago traversed the Atlantic with Columbus, and during the three following centuries made the Spanish name respected and feared on the seas all over the globe. A Spanish steamer generally abounds in fleas and dirt, and the cuisine leaves much to be desired; if you call the attention of the steward to creeping or jumping things in the berths he will gravely inform you that such a thing was never known before on the ship and you must have brought it on board when you embarked.
The Turk is too much a fatalist to be a good sailor. He is not deficient in bravery or intelligence, but in a place of peril he is very apt to fold his arms and say "Inshallah" (God wills it), and let events shape themselves. Therefore it is well to avoid a Turkish or Egyptian ship whenever another nationality can be found, not only on the score of cleanliness already mentioned, but on that of safety.
There is now hardly any part of the world touched by salt water that cannot be reached by steamer; wherever there is sufficient commerce to give promise of remuneration a steam line is sure to be established. Most of the European governments support lines of steamers by subsidies in the shape of mail contracts; in this way they have built up a mercantile marine, comprising thousands of ships that plow the waves in all directions and spread their flags wherever the breezes blow. Commerce has been developed by the steamship, and one after another the subsidized lines have created a trade that has enabled them to take care of themselves, or will thus enable them as the years roll on. The steamer is one of the links to unite the nations, and the familiar intercourse that it creates is a sure promotor of universal peace.
Of transatlantic lines there are many; it is impossible to give the exact number for the reason that new ones may be created or old ones suspended during the time this volume is passing through the press. On the American coast the ports of Montreal, Quebec, Halifax, Portland, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, Savannah, and New Orleans are served by transatlantic steam lines; New York alone has a dozen (roughly stated) and several of the others have each two or three. The ports on the other side of the Atlantic that are thus connected with the United States are Liverpool, London, Glasgow, Belfast, Bristol, Hull, Southampton, Hamburg, Bremen, Rotterdam, Antwerp, Havre, and Bordeaux. The Liverpool steamers touch at Queenstown, both going and returning, so that the latter port has an almost daily communication with America by steam without herself owning a single ship. There are lines between New York and the ports of the Mediterranean, with a service more or less regular. In the fruit season there is more activity in their movements, and their numbers are greater than when the oranges have ceased to be gathered and the lemon has been squeezed. Occasionally there is a steamer for ports on the Baltic, and not many years ago there was a line to Stettin and another to Amsterdam. They may be revived any day, and new lines may come into existence while yet we are talking about them.
Thus far there are no regular lines of steamers between the Atlantic coast of the United States and the ports of Asia. One of the New York and Liverpool companies has a line to Bombay and can send passengers and freight all the way by its own ships, with a transfer in Liverpool. In the tea season steamers come from China to New York by way of the Suez Canal, bringing cargoes of the herb that forms our breakfast beverage, but they do not return by the way they came; from China to New York they make a direct voyage, but on the return journey to the Land of the Celestials they take cargoes for Liverpool, London, or any other port that offers. Most of these ships are specially designed for freighting purposes, and their passenger accommodations are limited; some of them are noted for their speed, though they rarely make as rapid progress as the crack vessels of the transatlantic lines.
The great majority of the steam lines everywhere are under the English flag; of the transatlantic companies only one is American, but not all of its ships are of American build. Of the two great companies that connect Europe with the far East one is French and the other English; there are two smaller companies connecting England with China, both of them English, and there are occasional irregular ships, all of the same nationality. Without attempting statistical exactness it is safe to say that of the ocean steamers that link the different parts of the world together at least nine out of every ten are British.
We have already glanced at the steamship service in waters adjacent to Europe; let us now look away to the East.
There is an average of fully four steamers a week from Europe to Alexandria, Egypt, and in the winter season the number is greater. The lines are English, French, Austrian, and Italian, with a semi-monthly Russian and an occasional craft of some other nationality. Some of these steamers end their journey at Alexandria and return thence to Europe, while others proceed to Asia by way of the Suez Canal. The steamers touching at Alexandria form but a small part of those that use the Suez Canal; the traffic through that artificial highway has steadily increased, from year to year, until it now amounts to 120 ships a month, or four per day. Nearly all the craft that pass through the Canal are steamers, as it has not been found profitable for sailing ships to make the voyage up or down the Red Sea, with its treacherous winds and dangerous navigation. It is probable that within the next decade the number of steamers passing the Canal will be not less than 200 per month, and many persons familiar with the subject predict an increase still greater.
From Suez the steamers follow the narrow track of the Red Sea, where the sun pours down its pitiless rays and causes the panting traveler to absorb copiously of beverages that cool if they do not inebriate. From the Straits of Bab-el-Mandel (Gate of Tears) the routes diverge; one tends northward and eastward to the Persian Gulf and the rivers that flow into it, while another heads almost due east to Bombay. The route of the Persian Gulf is served by an English company, while that of Bombay can boast of three or four English lines, an Austrian line, and an Italian one, not to mention the many irregular steamers on the hunt for chance cargoes and passengers. A hundred miles from the entrance of the Red Sea is the verdureless Rock of Aden, where British enterprise has established a port and coaling station. Most of the regular lines make a halt there, and it has been found in practice that Aden is an important point of divergence. Some of the English companies have a service down the east coast of Africa as far as the Cape of Good Hope, and the French have a line to Seychelles, Mauritius, and Reunion.
The majority of the steamers going east from Aden head for Pointe de Galle, at the southern extremity of Ceylon. Here they diverge again, some going to Calcutta, some to Australia, around its southern coast, a few to Burmah, and the rest to Singapore, at the Straits of Malacca.
From Singapore there are various routes for the ships that have followed each other from Pointe de Galle. Northward go some to the capital of Siam, less northerly others to Cochin China, and others to Hong Kong, Shanghai, Yokohama, and the different ports of the Celestial Empire, and the Land of the Mikado. Others turn southward from Singapore to Java, and there is a line between Singapore and Australia, by way of Java and Torres Straits, following the northern coast of the great island instead of its southern one. Irregular ships go to Borneo and around Sumatra, and there is a Spanish line that unites Singapore with the Philippine Islands.
From Japan and China to Europe there is a regular mail service each way once a week, and the arrivals and departures can be relied upon very nearly like those of railway trains. One week it is performed by the French steamers, and the next by the English, and so it goes on, from the year's beginning to the year's ending. The smaller lines of steamers add materially to the opportunities for a traveler between Europe and the far East, and it may be fairly stated that at all times of the year there are two steamers a week each way, while during the tea season there are double that number. When the new crop of teas comes in there is generally a race between two or more steamers from China to London; the shortest passage thus far recorded was made in thirty-seven days from Shanghai to the docks at London by one of these tea steamers, and her competitor was only a few hours behind her.
An English company skirts the coast of India and Ceylon from Bombay to Calcutta with weekly steamers each way; it sends its ships northward from Bombay to Kurrachee, Bushire, and up the Tigris as far as Bagdad, and from Calcutta it sends them to Burmah, the Straits of Malacca, and Singapore. There is a Chinese line from Rangoon to Singapore, touching the principal ports of Burmah and the Straits, and there is a Chinese line and a Siamese one also, connecting Singapore with Bangkok every four or five days. The Dutch owners of Java have a line from Amsterdam to Batavia twice a month each way, touching Gibraltar, Naples, and Suez, and they have several lines around the Java seas, to communicate with the Spice Islands, and enable them to keep a watchful eye over their possessions. About once a month they send a steamer to Melbourne and Sidney by way of Torres Straits, and they send a ship every week around the coast of Sumatra. The coast of China is well served by English lines, and in the last few years by a Chinese one, composed of ships purchased of foreigners. In the same way there is a Japanese company that navigates the waters around the Mikado's Empire, and also connects the Japanese ports with Shanghai and Hong Kong. The Yang-tse, the great river of China, is navigated by a Chinese company and an English one, the former being equipped with steamers built in the United States, and the latter with boats constructed in England, after the American model.
The ports of Australia and New Zealand are connected by local lines, and there are two or more lines of steamers that ply between Australia and England; from England to Australia the route is by the Cape of Good Hope, but on the return voyage the ships go through the Suez Canal, in consequence of the peculiar course of the trade-winds. On their outward passage they touch at the Cape of Good Hope, and thus come in competition with the lines that have been established between England and South Africa. The regular service is weekly, and performed by two companies, making alternate departures.
Coming back to Europe, we will turn our eyes toward the west once more. There is an English line running to the West Indies, touching the principal ports as far as Aspinwall, where they connect with the steamers of another English line from Panama to the Straits of Magellan. Three French lines perform nearly a similar service, one going from Saint Nazaire to Aspinwall, a second from Saint Nazaire to Vera Cruz, and a third from Havre and Bordeaux to Aspinwall. All these lines touch at ports on the way, and one of them has a branch to Cayenne; the departures each way in each direction are monthly, while that of the English one is fortnightly. Another French line goes to Brazil and La Plata, touching at the French colony of Senegal, on the African coast, and there are two Italian lines from Naples and Genoa that cover the same route, but without visiting Senegal. There are two other French lines to the east coast of South America, and two or three English ones, so that the traveler in either direction will have plenty of ships to choose from. Then there are local lines all along the coast, and there is an English line through the Straits of Magellan, and up the west coast of South America as far as Callao, not to be confounded with the one already mentioned from Panama southward. Besides these there is a Spanish company plying between Cadiz and Havana, and a Portuguese one from Lisbon to Brazil.
We have almost girdled the world in our observations of steamships, and may now return to New York. The advertising columns of the leading dailies will tell all about the numerous local lines that skirt our coast as far South as Vera Cruz and Aspinwall, and they may or may not tell us of a line from New York to Rio de Janeiro flying the American flag. Several lines of this kind have been established, but they have never been of long duration, as the cost of maintaining them is greater than the receipts, and the United States government refuses to adopt the English policy of sustaining steam lines by permanent mail contracts. As this page is being written such a line is in full operation; its permanency is to be most devoutly hoped, but hopes will not always pay the expense of running a steamship. An English line connects New York with Brazil, but does it in a roundabout way; the steamers go from England to Brazil, carrying cargoes of English manufactures, thence they take cargoes of coffee and other South American produce to New York, and at the latter port they load for home with whatever freight is offering.
Between San Francisco and Japan and China there are two lines of steamers; both are under American management, and the ships of one are of American build while those of the other are leased from English owners. The service is semi-monthly, divided between the two companies, and the broad Pacific is traversed in about twenty days. There is a coasting line from San Francisco to Panama, and there are two coast lines going north to Oregon and British Columbia. An American line runs from San Francisco once a month to the Sandwich Islands, and the Feejees to New Zealand, and there connects with the local steamers to Australia.
Here we are at the point we reached by steamer from Europe, and may pause awhile to consider other matters. We have seen the North Star and the Southern Cross, the pine and palm; blasts from high latitudes have chilled our limbs, and we have been faint and suffering under the terrible heat of the equator. But our tireless steamer bears us on and on, indifferent whether it breathes the airs of the tropics or the poles; its pulseless limbs are never wearied so long as we supply its digestive and respiratory organs with their needed aliments. The steamer has destroyed the poetry of the ocean, but it has been a material force in bringing peace on earth and good will to men.
The world moves rapidly, and the greater part of its motion, from a traveler's point of view, is by steam. On land and on sea the steam engine is the great propelling force; the railway train has usurped the place of the stage-coach and diligence, and the white wings of the sailing ship have been shrouded by the smoke of the steamer's funnel. The sailing ship and the stage-coach still exist, but their importance is gone, and, from present indications, there is no likelihood that they will ever return to their former greatness. On a few routes in England coaching has been revived, but only as an amusement, and there is no prospect that it will gain more than a slender patronage. The sailing ship is not a remunerative possession in competition with the steamer, and the persons who take passage in it wherever there is opportunity for the more expeditious form of travel are few and far between.
Before the general adoption of the railway in the United States, the mail-coach was in the height of its glory; all over the settled portion of the country the crack of the driver's whip resounded, and the vehicle, gaudy with paint, and dusty with what it had gathered from the road, was the admiration of all who saw it. The veterans who guided these conveyances were famous in their line as victorious generals, and it was the proud ambition of many a noble youth to be a first-class stage-driver on a great route. Early in the century, and down to 1840, the triumphs of these jehus were mainly in the Atlantic States and over the Alleghenies, but with the extension of the railway, the stage-coach became a star of empire, and took its course westward. The last great route of the stage-coach was covered by the completion of the Pacific Railway, and now its services are confined to localities that have not been reached by the iron horse.
The Pacific States have several important stage lines of a local character, and some of them have acquired a national reputation. Every visitor to California can tell about the drive to the Geysers, or the road to the Yosemite Valley, where teams of six and eight horses are driven at full speed around sharp turns, and a mishap might send coach and passengers whirling a thousand feet down the mountain side. Those who have journeyed north from California to Oregon are familiar with the mountain ride of three hundred miles between the termini of the railways of the two states, and there are several interior places of importance where the railway has not yet penetrated. The newer states and territories have a considerable number of stage routes in operation, and in the summer season the whip of the stage-driver is heard among the mountains of the eastern states, and in other pleasure-resorts where the denizen of the city seeks coolness and relaxation.
For traveling by stage-coach in America the preparations are not numerous. If the journey is to be one of several days you will need a strong constitution, as the luxuries of a palace-car, or an ocean steamship, are not to be found on the horse-propelled vehicle. Have a suit of clothes as near the color of dust as possible, and, if your sex is masculine, cut your hair and beard so that your head will resemble that of a pugilist, or the back of a bull-dog. Carry very little baggage, the least you can possibly get along with, and don't keep it where it will get in your way. Find a rear seat in the coach, and, if in winter, try to have it on the side favored by the sun. Of course you will try for a corner seat, and, if you get it, you will be all right. These things accomplished, resign yourself to fate and the care of the driver.
On a long ride by stage-coach you will naturally wonder how you are to sleep. For the first twenty-four hours you have a hard time of it, and your first night's sleep will be principally made up of wakefulness. But Nature will assert herself; the second night is quite comfortable, while on the succeeding nights you find yourself sleeping as well as in your bed at home, at least so far as obtaining relief from weariness is concerned. If you have never tried it you will be astonished to find how little you are fatigued after a ride of five or ten days.
In regions where there are highwaymen, facetiously termed "road agents" by the Californians, carry as little money as possible, and leave your valuable gold watch behind. You may have a revolver if you like, but it is generally of very little use, as the robbers come on you in such numbers, or under such circumstances, that your weapons cannot be employed. Generally the first intimation of their presence is the protrusion of several rifles or pistols into the windows of the coach, with a request, more or less polite, for you to hand over your valuables. When you have no alternative but to hand over, do so with alacrity, and lead your assailants to think it the happiest moment of your life. If you are compelled, as often happens, to step outside the vehicle and hold your hands in the air while standing in line with the other passengers, try and hold them a little higher, and be more in line, than anybody else. Where resistance is useless do not make the least attempt to oppose your uninvited interviewers, as they are a fastidious set of gentlemen, and regard with suspicion any movement of your hand towards your hip-pocket. The traveler who accepts the situation, and conducts himself philosophically under such circumstances, runs very little risk of bodily harm; the robbers are after his valuables and not his life, as it is not the least use to them, and they are unwilling to take it except in self-defense, or to aid their search for his personal property.
American highwaymen have not yet learned the art of carrying travelers away and holding them for ransom. This accomplishment is of Italian origin, and flourishes in Italy, Sicily, and other parts of Southern Europe. It was introduced into Mexico by the Italian emigrants who went there with Maximilian, and prevails to some extent in South America.
Accidents on stage-coaches are much more rare than one might expect when the occasional badness of the roads and the apparently reckless driving are considered. The fact is the driving is more reckless in appearance than in reality; the stage companies generally employ men who understand their business, though they may not be altogether Chesterfieldian in their manners. If you have any doubts as to the merits of the man who is to conduct you they can be generally settled by consultation with the agents of the company; the story they tell you may not be true, but there will be a vast amount of comfort in it.
A great many stories, mostly apocryphal, are told of stage accidents in the far west. One is to the effect that a driver once informed a timid traveler that nobody was ever hurt on his stage, though a good many had been killed. The stranger naturally asked an explanation, and received the following:
"There used to be a good many accidents," said he, "and lots of people were killed or wounded. The killed ones didn't make any fuss; the company just settled with their relatives, and that was the end of it, but them that was hurt made a good deal of trouble. They were always bringing suits for damages for large amounts, and generally getting 'em, and so I made up my mind to put a stop to it. When we have an accident nowadays I just take a linch-pin and go round and finish up all the wounded ones, and we find things going on much better."
For a short ride in good weather an outside seat is preferable, especially where there is fine scenery along the route. The place by the driver is usually the post of honor, and if that worthy is talkative, as he generally is, a good deal of information can be gleaned from him. He is usually unaffected by temperance principles, and a pull at a flask will serve to loosen the cords of his tongue.
The American coaches are of varied size and construction, according to the character of the roads where they are used. The old-fashioned stage-coach usually had a capacity for carrying twenty-one passengers, twelve inside and nine out, and was suspended on leathern braces. The form is still retained in the so-called Troy coaches and Concord coaches, but in many vehicles steel springs have taken the place of leather. A form of coach largely used in the far west is the "mud-wagon," which can traverse routes impassable for the larger and heavier carriage, and is specially preferred where the roads are bad. On some of the California routes, when the roads are moulting in the spring, there is often a depth of several inches of mud, and only the lightest vehicles can pass through it.
The diligence in Europe corresponds to the stage-coach in America; like the latter it has seen its sphere diminished by the construction of railways, and like it, too, it reflects the institutions of the countries where it exists. On the American coach there is no distinction; all seats have an equal price, and the first-comer has the choice. On the diligence there are grades and classes, and the seats are numbered and reserved like those of a theatre. The most costly places are in the coupé, which is beneath the driver's seat, and has windows in front above the level of the horses' backs; then comes the banquette, which is behind the driver, and is an excellent spot in fine weather, but disagreeable in a storm. The interieur, as its name implies, is an inside affair, and affords very little view of the road, and the rotonde is at the back of the banquette, and cheapest of all, as it is also the poorest. Particular places may be secured for days ahead; on some of the Swiss diligences you may take your place thirty days in advance by payment at the office, or by enclosing the price of the fare with your card and a memorandum of the day and hour of departure.
Diligences are in use all over Europe to reach towns and villages that are not accessible by rail. Their fares are regulated by government, and the hours of departure and arrival may be relied upon as exactly as those of railway trains. At present the greatest country of diligences is Switzerland; they are to be found on many roads of that mountainous region, and on some routes they have a heavy patronage. Between Geneva and Chamouny, a distance of about fifty miles, there are sometimes a dozen diligences each way daily in summer, all of them filled with passengers. The diligences on this route are a solution of the problem, often declared impossible by American stage-drivers, of making a coach where all the seats are outside ones. The body of the vehicle contains the baggage, and the seats are in rows on the top, over which an awning is spread. The only exceptions to the rule of putting all the seats outside is in the coupé, which commands a higher price than the banquette, but in fair weather is far less desirable. The old-fashioned diligence with coupé, interieur, banquette, and rotonde, is not much used on pleasure-routes, as very few of the seats are desirable for tourists.
For a long journey the coupé is the most comfortable part of the diligence; it contains three and sometimes four seats, but one or two persons may secure it by paying for the whole space. The French in Algeria have introduced the diligence, and the writer has pleasant recollections of some night rides in a capacious coupé, while journeying with a friend to and from the Desert of Sahara. The coupé or any other part of the vehicle, once engaged, it cannot be invaded by any other person, and not even a Prince, Grand Duke, or any other titled individual would dream of taking it from you.
Posting is still in vogue in some parts of Europe, especially in Russia. Where the system exists it is under control of government, and the supervision is usually pretty strict. One may travel by post in many parts of Switzerland; he may have his own carriage or he can hire one from the government or from a private individual. One hour's notice is required for hiring a conveyance of this sort, and the changes at the relay stations generally take from 15 to 30 minutes. As in stage coaching, or any other travel by horse-power, the less baggage you have the better.