PARIS.
We thought ourselves very ill-used on our first night in Paris, when, having been wiled into a grand hotel near the Bourse, we were stowed away on the fifth floor, three in a room, and charged six francs for our beds, one more for a candle, and one for service. Our parsimonious Dane was so highly irritated, that he took possession of the candle and carried it off in his pocket. But Alcibiade was soon by our side, to give us help and advice with his old kindness; and under his guidance we removed immediately to more suitable lodgings, and were set in the proper course to obtain employment. Although scarcely possessed of a single franc in actual cash, I had fifty dozens of fine piercing-saws, my contraband speculation, and for which I ultimately obtained about twenty francs.
What was of more importance, in less than a week from our arrival in Paris I commenced work at the modest remuneration of four francs and a half, three shillings and ninepence, a day. My two companions were scarcely so fortunate, but lingered on for a week or two without employment.
I found myself in a motley company; at one time our atelier contained three Russians, two Germans, two Englishmen, an Italian, and a Frenchman; and sometimes a simple inquiry would have to pass through four languages before it received its answer. I did not remain long amid this babel, although long enough to be offered six francs a day to remain. I never afterwards worked for a less rate of remuneration than six francs a day, but never succeeded in obtaining a sous more. I had many "Patrons" in Paris. In one establishment there were three workmen continually employed in making crosses of honour, in gold and silver, to reward the merit, or to purchase the affection and support, of the French people. I was variously employed: in gold work; in setting small rose-diamonds; and upon the most costly brilliant ornaments. Sometimes idling upon three days a week, or totally unemployed; at other times slaving night and day, Sunday and all, to complete some urgent order. I have worked nineteen days in a fortnight.
I have endeavoured to give some details with regard to the manner of living, working, and lodging, among the labouring population of Paris, under the head of "THE FRENCH WORKMAN;" and which details were in most part personal, or such as I had learned from actual experience. My business here is with results, and I will condense them into as few words as possible. I stayed in all one year and five months in Paris, during the whole of which period I was never out of a situation, although at various times but scantily provided with employment. I received in wages a total of two thousand three hundred and one francs, thirteen sous, or ninety-two pounds two shillings and twopence-halfpenny. This would give an average receipt, upon the seventy-one weeks of my stay, of one pound three shillings and three-halfpence a week. I have said that during the greater part of this time I earned at the rate of six francs, or five shillings a day; if I now give the current expenses per week, a comparison may from these data be drawn as to the comparative position of the English and French workman. The usual outlay for food per week amounted to twelve francs, or ten shillings, of course with fluctuations; for I have lived a whole week upon five francs when unemployed, and have luxuriated upon twenty when in full work. Upon striking a balance among my various lodgings,-I lodged in company and slept double during the whole period of my stay in Paris-I find the result to be, that we paid twelve francs each per month, or two shillings and sixpence per week.
This did not include extras: a German stove hired at five francs a month for the winter season; wood at four francs the hundred pounds weight; candles at thirteen sous the pound, and soap at a fraction less. Nor does it include the half franc to the concierge, an obligatory payment upon presenting yourself at the street-door after midnight. Summing up these items, we arrive at this result: for food, ten shillings; rent, two shillings and sixpence; and miscellaneous necessaries, including twelve sous for washing, of another two shillings and sixpence; or a total of fifteen shillings of expenditure against, in my case, of one pound three shillings and odd pence of income. The cost of pleasure in the French capital must not be omitted; and I feel bound to state that twenty-seven visits to the theatres, from the pit of the Italian Opera House at four francs, to the same place at the Vaudeville for eighteen sous; and thirteen public balls and concerts, from the grand masked ball to that of the "Grande Chaumiere," were met by an outlay of sixty-eight francs thirteen sous, or three pounds seven shillings and tenpence-halfpenny.
After an absence of nearly three years and a half, I turned my steps towards home. From the time that I had crossed the French frontier, and, upon delivering my papers, had received a passeport provisoire at Strassburg, I had never sustained cheque or molestation from the police; but now that I was about to depart, and made the usual application for my original passport, it was discovered that, as a workman, I should have had a "livret" upon my first entering Paris, and a number of certificates and attestations were required, in order to reinstate me in a legitimate position in the eyes of the law. Escaped from this dilemma, and officially recognised as _ouvrier_, it was with some surprise that I found myself dubbed gentleman at the Bureau des Affaires Etrangeres, and charged a fee of ten franca for the signature of the foreign minister.
Too old a traveller to be entrapped into the payment of so heavy a fine upon my vanity, I strongly repudiated any more pretentious title than that of simple workman; and after a tough struggle succeeded in carrying off the necessary visa at an outlay of two francs. The journey, by diligence, from Paris to Boulogne, cost twenty-seven francs; I lost a clear six francs in changing my French savings into English gold-twelve sovereigns-and, after a rough passage by the Boulogne boat to London, at an expense of twelve francs, found myself once more in my native city.
Let those who would estimate the value of such an enterprise as mine, consider its cost and its result. I had passed several years in foreign travel; I had undeniably profited in the acquisition of new experiences in my trade; new modes of working, and additional manual skill. I had rubbed off some of the most valued, and therefore most absurd, prejudices against foreigners; and made some progress in the acquisition of two languages-a gain which must ever be a source of mental profit and gratification. To conclude: I had started on my journey but indifferently clad, and with scarcely five pounds in my pocket, of which sum two pounds had been remitted home; and I had been able not merely to subsist by the labor of my hands, but to enjoy much that was costly, and an infinite deal more that was pleasurable and advantageous; and to return home, having liquidated every debt, save that of gratitude, well provided with apparel, and with ten pounds sterling in my purse.
I would not venture to urge upon any man to follow in my footsteps. I should scarcely retrace them myself under the same conditions; but I believe I have shown the practicability of such an undertaking, and its probability of success, with no more unusual qualifications than a ready hand, a patient will, and some perseverance.
CHAPTER I.
HAMBURG.
Hamburg at last!-after eight days' sail from London, three of them spent in knocking about the North Sea, where the wind always blows in your teeth. Never mind! we are now safely moored to these substantial timbers; huge piles, driven in a line, which form the outer harbour of Hamburg. The city lies before us, but there is nothing very imposing in it; the houses, with gable roofs and whitened walls, look rather lath-and-plastery, in fact; but we must not express our opinions too rashly, for first impressions are not always the most faithful after all.
"Now, Tom, is the boat ready?"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
We scramble down the sides of the British schooner, the "Glory," and seat ourselves along with Tom. What a confusion of boats, long-pointed barges, and small sailing vessels!
"Mind how you go, Tom."
"Ay, ay, sir!" replies Tom, contemptuously shifting his quid.
These small sailing vessels we see are from the Hanoverian and Danish coasts. Their cargoes consist principally of wood, and whole stacks of vegetables, the latter ridiculously small. Those long-pointed barges are for canal navigation, and are admirably adapted to Hamburg, threaded as it is by canals in every direction.
Steady! Do you see that curious, turret-looking building, old and time-worn, guarded by a sentinel?-it is the fort to protect the water-gate through which we are now passing. It is also occasionally used as a prison. On the opposite side is a poor, dilapidated, wooden building, erected on a barge, where permits are obtained for spirits and tobacco-a diminutive custom-house indeed. There being no one to question or molest us, we pass on, and in a few moments are at our landing-place, a short flight of stone steps leading to the Vorsetzen or quay.
Tom moors his boat with a grave celerity, leads the way up the stone steps on to the quay, and as speedily disappears down a sort of trap which gapes in the open street, in the immediate vicinity of the landing-place. Let him alone; Tom knows the way. We follow him down an almost perpendicular flight of stairs into a spirit kellar, and gratify Tom's little propensity for ardent liquors.
Tom has disappeared, and is now paddling his way back to the "Glory," and we stand upon the humble water-terrace, the Vorsetzen, looking out upon the shipping. It is a still, bright, Sunday afternoon in September.
There is no broiling sun to weary us; the sky is clear, and the air soft and cheering, like the breath of a spring morning. We will turn our backs upon the river and proceed up Neuerweg.
We cannot walk upon the narrow strip of footpath, for, besides that there is very little of it, our course would become a sort of serpentine as we wound about the fresh young trees which skirt the edge of it at regular intervals. But are they not pleasant to look upon, those leafy sentinels, standing by the stone steps of the houses, shaking their green tops in happy contrast to the whitened walls? So we will walk in the road, and being good-tempered today, will not indulge in violent invectives upon the round-topped little pebbles which form the pavement; but, should we by chance step into a puddle which has no manner of means of running out of our way, we will look with complacency at our dirtied boots, and trip smilingly on. Yes, trip is the word, for I defy the solemnest pedestrian in Christendom to keep a measured pace upon these upright, pointed, shining-faced pebbles.
There! we are in the Schaar-markt. Now look around, and say, would you not fancy yourself in some quaint old English village? What a curious complication of cross-beams is presented in the fronts of the houses!-a barring and binding of huge timbers, with their angles filled in with red bricks. How simple and neat is everything!-the clean stone steps leading up to the principal entrance of each house, and the humbler flight which conducts you to the _kellar_ and kitchen. You would imagine you had seen the place before, or dreamt of it, or read of it in some glorious old book when your memory was fresh and young.
See that young damsel with bare arms, no bonnet, no cap, but her hair cleanly and neatly parted in the middle of her head, and disclosing her round, rosy, honest German face. She is not pretty, but how innocent and good-tempered she looks; and see how lightly and easily she springs over those, to us, ruthless pebbles, her short petticoats showing her clean white stockings and bright shoes to advantage.
And here comes a male native of the place; a shortish, square-built, and somewhat portly man, clad in a comfortable, old-fashioned way, with nothing dashing or expensive about him. He is not very brisk, to be sure; and when you first look at his round face an idea of his simplicity comes over you; but it is only for an instant, and then you read the solid, sterling qualities quietly shining in his clear eyes. There is not a great amount of intellectuality, that is to say nervous intellectuality, in his contented countenance, but a vast quantity of unstudied common sense.
We will pass on, leaving the guard-house on our left; and winding up Hohleweg, many simple and not a few pretty faces with roguish eyes do we see at the open windows.
We halt only for a moment to look at the noble Michaelis Kirche which lies to our right, and turn off on the left hand, crossing an open space of some extent called Zeughaus Platz, and behold us before the Altonaer Thor, or Altona-gate.
Ah, these are pleasant banks and noble trees! How green the grass upon those slopes-how fresh the flowers! And what a splendid walk is this, looking to the right down the double avenue of sturdy stems waving their spreading tops across the path! You did not think that quaint old town below could boast of such a border as this; but take a tour about the environs, and you will find them cheerful, fresh, and beautiful, from Neuer Kaye to Deich Thor.
We will pass through the simple Altona-gate, and make towards Hamburger-Berg. Do not be alarmed. Perhaps you have heard of the "Berg"
before, and virtuous people have told you that it is a godless place.
Well, so it is; but we will steer clear of its godlessness; we will avoid the dancing-houses. Before us lies a broad open road, neither dignified by buildings nor ornamented by trees, but there are plenty of people, and they are worth our notice. There is a neat figure in a close boddice and a hauben, or hood-like headdress; she has taken to winter attire early.
She carries no trailing skirts, nor has she ill-shapen ankles to hide.
Look at her healthy face, though the cheek-bones are rather too high; but the mouth is ever breaking into a smile. Her hair is drawn back tightly from her face, tied in a knot at the back, and covered with a velvet skull-cap, richly worked with gold and silver wire and braid. The effect is not bad.
There is a country girl from Bardewick-Bardewick, you know, though now a mere village, is traditionally said to have been once a large and flourishing city. She has flowers to sell, and stands by the wayside.
She has neither shoes nor stockings, nor is her dark dress and white apron of the longest. Her tightly fitting boddice is of blue cloth, with bullet buttons, and has but a short waist, while a coral confines her apron and dress. Her head-dress is only a striped coloured handkerchief, tied under the chin, but in such a way that it presents a sort of straight festoon just above her sparkling eyes, and completely hides her hair.
But here comes a curiosity of the male species. Surely this is Rip van Winkle from the States. He has no sugar-loaf hat, but he wears the trunkhose, stockings, and large buckled shoes of the old Dutchman, and even his ample jacket, with an enormous sort of frill at the bottom. No, my friend, let me give you to understand that this is a _Vierlander_, and a farmer of some means. Do you not see that he has a double row of bullet buttons on his jacket, down the front of his ample hose, and even along the edges of his enormous pockets? They are solid silver, every button of them, nor are the massive buckles on his shoes of any more gross material. Here come more velvet skull-caps, with gold and silver worked into them. How jauntily the wearers trip along! It is a fact, the abominable pavement of Hamburg sets the inhabitants eternally on their toes.
Here is a Tyroler, and a tall fellow he is; straight as an arrow, and nimble as a chamois; but yet with a steady, earnest look about him, although a secret smile is playing round his handsome, mustachioed mouth, that tells you of a strong and persevering character. He is shaped like an Adonis, and his short jacket, breeches, pale striped stockings, and tightly laced boots; the broad leathern embroidered band about his waist, and the steeple-crowned hat with the little coquettish feather, all help to make up a figure that you would like to see among his native mountains. And yet he is but a dignified sort of pedlar, and would be very happy to sell you a dozen or so of table napkins, Alpine handkerchiefs, or a few pieces of tape.
Well! he is gone, and before us comes a female figure, who forms a fit companion to the silver-buttoned _Vierlander_ we have just past. Notice her dress; she is a _Vierlanderin_. Her petticoats are shamefully short, you will say, stiff and plaited too as they are, but what a gallant pair of red stockings she wears, and what a neat, bright pair of buckled shoes! Her dress consists of a close boddice with long sleeves, all of dark purple stuff, and her neat black apron does not make a bad contrast to it. But her head-gear!-her hair is drawn from her face under a closely fitting caul, while an exaggerated black bow, or rather a pair of triangular wings, project some distance from the back of the head, and beneath them two enormous tails of hair trail down her back, each terminating in a huge red bow.
This country girl appears to have sold all her fruit, and has placed her basket upside down upon her head. No such thing; that is her peculiar head-dress; look again, and you will see that it is a small plaited straw basket, about a foot and a half in diameter, with a very deep straight edge. It is fastened on her head by a caul sewn into the inside. Well!
at any rate this is a Quakeress we see coming at such a stately pace along the gravelled road? Wrong again, my friend; this is a young lady from Heligoland, the little island we passed at the mouth of the Elbe, and a very prim and neat young lady she is, though where she got her bonnet shape from I cannot say.
The way is lined with hawkers of every description: fruit, songs and sausages; toys, sticks and cigars; pipes, sweetmeats and tape; every imaginable article that was ever sold at a fair is to be found here, and every vender in a different dress, illustrating at one view the peasant costumes of every village in the vicinity. As for tobacco, the air is like a gust from some gigantic pipe. Here is the entrance to Franconi's Circus, though not yet open for public entertainment. Blasts of obstreperous music rush upon you from every door; the shrill squealing of a flageolet being heard above everything else.
Knife-swallowers, mesmerisers, and the eternal Punch-here called Caspar-ballad-singers, tumblers, quacks, and incredible animals, are here for inspection. You would fancy it was some old English fair; for in spite of yourself there is a quaint feeling steals over you, that you had suddenly tumbled back into the middle of the last century.
And who pays for all this? for whose especial amusement is all this got up? For our old friend "Jack." Here are English sailors, and French sailors; sailors in green velveteen jackets; sailors with their beards and whiskers curled into little shining ringlets. We meet our salt-water friend everywhere, and, by the intense delight depicted on his features, "Jack" is evidently in a high state of enjoyment.
Let us go on; we have promised not to visit the dancehouses to-day, and we will quit this clamorous crowd.
CHAPTER II.
ALTONA.
THE POET'S GRAVE.-A DANISH HARVEST HOME.
We tread upon elevated ground, and far away to our left, down in a hollow, flows the broad Elbe; placid indeed from this distance, for not a ripple can we see upon its surface. A few ships are lazily moving on its waters. Stand aside, and make way for this reverend gentleman; he is a _prediger_, a preacher of the gospel; he is habited in a black gown, black silk stockings and shoes, a small black velvet skull-cap on his head, while round his neck bristles a double plaited frill, white as a curd, and stiff as block tin. You would take him for the Dutch nobleman in an old panel painting. It may appear rather grotesque to your unaccustomed eyes, but remember there are many things very ridiculous at home.