CHAPTER XVIII. TRAVELS.
One of the most remarkable developments of modern times has been the increase in the facilities for foreign travel, with the consequence that travelling has become the pastime of the many, and not the privilege of the few. In the 'sixties and 'seventies travelling was difficult. In the first place, a passport had to be obtained, with the visé of the ambassador of every country through which it was intended to pass. It usually took ten days to procure this, and there also had to be faced the difficulties of the Customs at the various frontiers, the absence of through train services, and the general halo of suspicion with which foreigners were regarded on the continent, and which led frequently to unpleasantness. In 1860, on my way to Trieste, I was detained at Turin, and at the hotel I met Mr. Ed. Lear, R.A., the author of the Book of Nonsense, who was on his way to paint a picture in Italy. Mr. Lear made a few pen-and-ink sketches for me. When I arrived at the Austrian frontier at Verona, these were found in my baggage, and I was detained for twelve hours while enquiries were made about me by telegraph. Another time, I was staying at the little Portuguese town of Elvas, and walked across the frontier to see Badajos, the scene of the memorable siege during the Peninsular war. On entering the town, I was asked for my passport, which I produced, but as it had no Spanish visé I was placed in charge of a gendarme, who with a drawn sword marched me across the frontier back into Portugal. These little incidents serve to illustrate the suspicion which surrounded travellers on the continent.
In addition to my voyage round the world, already described, I paid annual visits to the Southern States of America, in connection with my firm's cotton business, and I also spent some time in Portugal and the West Indies.
In no department of travel has more progress been made than in ocean travel. I crossed the Atlantic in 1861 in the "City of Washington," of the Inman Line, and returned in the Cunard steamer "Niagara," the voyage each way lasting twelve days, and they were twelve days of great discomfort. The sleeping accommodation was below the saloon; the cabins were lit by oil lamps, which were put out at eleven o'clock at night; the air was foul and stifling; and there was an entire absence of ventilation.
In the saloon, above the dining-tables, trays filled with wine-glasses swung from side to side with every roll of the ship; the saloon was lit by candles, which spurted grease and smelt abominably. There was no smoking room provided, and we sat in the "fiddlee" upon coils of rope, while the sea washed to and fro, or else we tried to get under the lee of the funnel. What a change has taken place, and how greatly the electric light has contributed to the comfort of travellers by sea!