GOING TO EUROPE.
Stowed away among the cherished plans of most people is generally a European trip. Sometimes the plan is vague, to be sure. Sometimes the probabilities are that it will never in the world be carried out. However that may be, it is a good thing for which to plan. Learning something about the conditions and details of European traveling gives not a little of the relish of the actual trip, and a preparatory journey on paper does much to educate us to travel—as important a training, by the way, as traveling.
The value of this practice was admirably illustrated last summer at Chautauqua by Dr. Vincent, in his introduction to the first tourist’s trip beyond the sea. He said:
When I was a boy I took a trip to Europe without leaving home. I imagined myself traveling all over the continent of Europe, going to Egypt and Palestine. I cut out a lot of paper and gave it value as money, foreign money and American money, and every once in a while I would take it up and imagine it covering the expense of the trip. I would read a little, and imagine myself going almost everywhere. I said to myself: “If I can ever go to Europe I shall certainly go,” and I went.
I have often said to myself, if I were a teacher, knowing the power of the imagination over children, I would take my school on a trip to Europe, and when they grew weary with the recitations and of the monotonous tasks or other routine of school life, I would say: “Now let us have a bit of fun, let us go to Europe.” I have thought of how much geography, history and architecture I could bring out on a trip to Europe! What demand there would be all the while for the knowledge of arithmetic! How many things I could teach a lot of youngsters in the average school room in the way of an imaginary trip to Europe that should last several weeks or months! And what an opportunity we have, what facilities we have for the furtherance of a scheme like this, in the photographs, the engravings and books of travel, and all sorts of things that abound everywhere, by which little people might go with you, and be glad all the while they went, and learn all the more because they were glad.
And then how much more intelligent the traveler would be in his maturer years! Men and women who imagine themselves going to Europe become much more intelligent observers on a trip to Europe. It pays double value to them.
Imaginary trips beyond the sea may teach two very important things: How to travel and how to observe. It is impossible for a novice to make a European trip with the ease with which one would journey about the United States. One must encounter strange customs, trying climates, new languages, endless interesting sights. He will be on the verge of losing his baggage, dire calamity! he will have his trunk ransacked, he will be charged extra for over-weight, he will have to wait and fight and worry his way unless fortified by a knowledge of what he must go through with, and of how to act under all circumstances. He will miss much that he wants to see, and see much in which he is not particularly interested, unless his trip is thoroughly planned and he knows accurately what he is going to see and where to go to see it.
To study up for a European trip begin with your pocket-book, and ask, “Can I afford it?” The voyage is of course the first item. The different lines which cross the Atlantic—no less than twelve in number—are very nearly uniform in their charges, in their accommodations, and in their provisions for the safety of their passengers. A first-class passage over and back may be put at $140, but as steerage passenger one may go for about $60. The expense of traveling in Europe varies with the caution, tastes and habits of the person. Supposing that you are willing to walk much, to go to second-class hotels, to ride in second or third-class carriages, and take very little luggage, you may make your trip for from $2 to $3 per day, and in that way, too, you have the advantage of seeing and hearing very much that the more expensive and, in consequence, more exclusive style of traveling denies. More than half of the unpleasantness of traveling second-class in Europe is in the disagreeable sound of the word “second-class.” On the Continent the associations of the third-class carriage are by no means unpleasant—nearly all students and many professional men travel in that way. It is, too, the only way in which to come in contact with the people and study their habits:
First-class traveling may be estimated at about $7 per day in Great Britain, and $6 on the Continent. The items which must be added to the usual hotel expenses and car and carriage rates consist largely of fees to servants in the hotels and restaurants, and to the guards, porters and guides that seem to be essential to each traveler. It is said that many servants on the Continent receive no wages except the fees from travelers. It is not strange then that the result is that in order to receive any respectable attention one must pay often and liberally. A not inconsiderable part of the day’s expense is the little fee which is required at the gate of churches, castles, museums, parks, and where-not.