On the 20th of December, 1882, my wife and I,
"Fired with ideas of fair Italy,"
started on our travels in good spirits. Having secured our tickets, we put up at the Charing Cross Hotel for the night, so as to be ready to start the first thing in the morning.
Whatever vague feelings of regret we might secretly have nourished in leaving dear old England and our time-honoured, old-fashioned Christmas, were quickly dispelled the next morning, for as we sped away by the 7.40 train for Dover the weather assumed its most dismal aspect—cold, raw, damp, and foggy. So we started with easy consciences, resolved to obtain all possible benefit and enjoyment from the change.
Before reaching Dover, a little sunshine struggled forth to gladden us; but it was blowing rather hard when we arrived at our destination, and there was something of a sea to frighten the timorous. Being pretty fair sailors, however, and by the exercise of a little thoughtful physical preparation, we did not suffer from the voyage, and were able to render some assistance to others less fortunate.
After being at sea even for a few hours, there is much in the sound of "land ahead" to raise one's spirits, perhaps more especially when crossing the Channel. There is no one who does not hail with delight the first sight of the shore. It gladdens the hearts of the sickly ones, and soon their childlike helplessness disappears; hope and life return, sending the warm blood once more to the pallid cheek, and lighting the languid eye with fresh joy and anticipation. It is pleasant to see how quickly the sufferers shake off the evil spirit of the sea—the terrible mal de mer, pull themselves together, and step on shore, beaming with heroic smiles.
It is just at this time that the submarine Channel Tunnel scheme possesses peculiar interest for the thoughtful. All lovers of Old England feel proudly and justly that this little "silver streak," with its stormy waves and rock-bound shores, is, under the blessing of Providence, her natural and national strength and glory. It has made her sons daring and hardy, industrious, prosperous, and happy. It has enabled her to people more than half the world with the Anglo-Saxon race, and has extended her empire and influence beyond the setting sun. It has made her the arbiter of the world, her sword—nay, her very word, turning the scale against any power of wrong and might. It has protected the world against the lust and avarice of Spain, and the conquering tyranny of a Napoleon. It has made her the Bank and commercial depôt of the whole globe, and the first of civilized and civilizing powers.
It is true that the more closely nations are connected by mutual interests, the more prosperous they become and the more friendly they are. And doubtless such a means of communication between Great Britain and the continent would materially increase that mutual interest—might even make sulky France more friendly towards us, and probably prove of benefit both commercially and socially; but only so long as the insular power of England is maintained. Although our army and navy are hardly as strong as they should be, we want no conscription here. What we do want is to preserve the peace and honour of our homes, our children in the colonies, and to increase rather than decrease the power of England for the good of the whole world.
Therefore, if a tunnel or tunnels be made, we must be sure beforehand that they can be perfectly protected against the means of surprise and invasion, that in no manner of way can they be made a weak point in our harness. As for destroying the tunnel, there would in all probability be a train or two in it when a surprise was intended, and what commander would blow up or destroy it under such circumstances? I fear the tunnel would prove a grand place for ruffians; and what hideous depredations and murderous attacks might not be committed in transit! Five minutes is in all conscience long enough to be under the depressing influence of a Hadean tunnel, but it would be an evil spirit who could tolerate it for the best part of an hour.
Arrived at Calais, the train was already waiting to carry us onward, but there was ample time for breakfast.