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     GLANCES AT EUROPE:

     IN A

     Series of Letters

     FROM

     GREAT BRITAIN, FRANCE, ITALY, SWITZERLAND, &c.

     DURING

     THE SUMMER OF 1851.



     INCLUDING NOTICES OF THE

     GREAT EXHIBITION, OR WORLD'S FAIR.



     BY HORACE GREELEY.



     NEW YORK:
     DEWITT & DAVENPORT, PUBLISHERS.
     1851.



     ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by

     DEWITT & DAVENPORT,

     in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for
     the Southern District of New York.



     _R. Craighead, Printer and Stereotyper,_
     _112 Fulton Street._




NO APOLOGY.


If there be any reader impelled to dip into notes of foreign travel
mainly by a solicitude to perfect his knowledge of the manners and
habits of good society, to which end he is anxious to learn how my Lord
Shuffleton waltzes, what wine Baron Hob-and-nob patronizes, which tints
predominate in Lady Highflyer's dress, and what is the probable color of
the Duchess of Doublehose's garters, he will only waste his time by
looking through this volume. Even if the species of literature he
admires had not already been overdone, I have neither taste nor capacity
for increasing it. It was my fortune sometimes while in Europe to "sit
at good men's feasts," but I brought nothing away from them for the
public, not even the names of my entertainers and their notable guests.
If I had felt at liberty to sketch what struck me as the personal
characteristics of some gentlemen of note or rank whom I met, especially
in England, I do not doubt that the popular interest in those letters
would have been materially heightened. I did not, however, deem myself
authorized to do this. In a few instances, where individuals challenged
observation and criticism by consenting to address public gatherings, I
have spoken of the matter and manner of their speeches and indicated the
impressions they made on me. Beyond this I did not feel authorized to
go, even in the case of public men speaking to the public through
reports for the daily press; while those whom I only met privately or in
the discharge of kindred duties, as Jurors at the Exhibition, I have not
felt at liberty to bring before the public at all. Having thus explained
what will seem to many a lack of piquancy, in the following pages,
implying a privation of social opportunities, I drop the subject.

No one can realize more fully than the writer the utter absence of
literary merit in these Letters. He does not deprecate nor seek to
disarm criticism; he only asks that his sketches be taken for what they
profess and strive to be, and for nothing else. That they are
superficial, their title proclaims; that they were hurriedly written,
with no thought of style nor of enduring interest, all whom they are
likely to interest or to reach must already know. A journalist traveling
in foreign lands, especially those which have been once the homes of his
habitual readers or at least of their ancestors, cannot well refrain
from writing of what he sees and hears; his observations have a value in
the eyes of those readers which will be utterly unrecognized by the
colder public outside of the sympathizing circle. For the habitual
readers of The Tribune especially were these Letters written, and their
original purpose has already been accomplished. Here they would have
rested, but for the unsolicited offer of the publishers to reproduce
them in a book at their own cost and risk, and on terms ensuring a fair
share of any proceeds of their sale to the writer. Such offers from
publishers to authors who have no established reputation as book-makers
are rarely made and even more rarely refused. Therefore, Sir Critic!
whose dog-eared manuscript has circulated from one publisher's drawer to
another until its initial pages are scarcely readable, while the ample
residue retain all their pristine freshness of hue, you are welcome to
your revenge! Your novel may be tedious beyond endurance; your epic a
preposterous waste of once valuable foolscap; but your slashing review
is sure to be widely read and enjoyed.

My aim in writing these Letters was to give a clear and vivid
daguerreotype of the districts I traversed and the incidents which came
under my observation. To this end I endeavored to sec, so far as
practicable, through my own eyes rather than those of others. To this
end, I generally shunned guide-books, even those of the "indispensable"
Murray, and relied mainly for routes and distances on the shilling
hand-book of Bradshaw. That I have been misled into many inaccuracies
and some gross blunders as to noted edifices, works of art, &c., is
quite probable; but that I have truthfully though hastily indicated the
topography, rural aspects, agricultural adaptations and more obvious
social characteristics of the countries I traversed, I am nevertheless
confident. I made a point of penning my impressions of each day's
journey within the succeeding twenty-four hours if practicable, for I
found that even a day's postponement impaired the distinctness of my
recollections of the ever-varying panorama of hill and dale, moor and
mountain, with long, level or undulating stretches of intermingled
woods, grain, grass, &c., &c. I trust the picture I have attempted to
give of out-door life in Western Europe, the workers in its fields and
the clusters in its streets, will be recognized by competent judges as
substantially correct.

The opinions expressed with respect to national characteristics or
aptitude will of course appear crude and rash to those who regard them
as based exclusively on the few days' personal observation in which they
may seem to have originated. To those who regard them as grounded in
some knowledge of history and of the present political and social
condition of those nations, corrected and modified indeed by the
personal observation aforesaid, their crudity and audacity will be
somewhat less astounding. No one will doubt that other travelers in
Europe have been far better qualified to observe and to judge than I
was, yet I see and think, and am not forbidden to speak. We know already
how Europe appears in the eyes of the learned and wise; but if some
Nepaulese Embassador or vagrant Camanche were to publish his "first
impressions" of Great Britain or Italy, should we utterly refuse to open
it because Baird or Thackeray could give us more accurate information on
that identical theme? Would not the Camanche's criticisms possess some
value _as_ his, quite apart from their intrinsic worth or worthlessness?
Might they not afford some insight into Indian modes of thought, if none
into European modes of life?

I deeply regret that the general impression made on me by the Italians
was such that my estimate of their character and capabilities gave
offence to their brethren now settled in this country. Their feeling is
a natural, creditable one; I will not reply to their strictures, yet I
must let what I wrote in Italy of the Italians stand unmodified. I shall
be most happy indeed to confess my mistake whenever it shall have been
proved such, but I cannot as yet perceive it. And to those who, not
unreasonably, dilate on the rashness of such judgment on the part of one
who was only some few weeks in Italy, and did not even understand its
people's language, I beg leave to commend a perusal of "Casa Guidi
Windows," by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I had not seen it when I wrote,
and the coincidence of its estimate of the Italians with mine is of
course utterly unpremeditated. Mrs. Browning speaks Italian and knows
the Italians; she lived among them throughout the late eventful years;
she sympathizes with their sufferings and prays for their deliverance,
but without shutting her eyes to the faults and grave defects of
character which impede that deliverance if they do not render it
doubtful. To those who will read her brief but noble poem, I need say no
more; on those who refuse to read it, words from me would be wasted.
Believing that among the most imminent perils of the Republican cause in
Europe is the danger of a premature, sanguinary, fruitless insurrection
in Italy, I have done what I could to prevent any such catastrophe. When
Liberty shall have been re-vindicated in France and shall thereupon have
triumphed in Germany, the reign of despotism will speedily terminate in
Italy; until that time, I do not see how it can wisely be even resisted.

A word of explanation as to the "World's Fair" must close this too long
introduction. The letters in this volume which refer to the great
Exhibition of Industry were mainly written when the persistent and
unsparing disparagement of the British Press had created a general
impression that the American Exposition was a mortifying failure, and
when even some of the Americans in Europe, taking their cue from that
Press, were declaring themselves "ashamed of their country" because of
such failure. Of course, these letters were written to correct the then
prevalent errors. More recently, the tide has completely turned, until
the danger now imminent is that of extravagant if not groundless
exultation, so that this Fair would be treated somewhat differently if I
were now to write about it. The truth lies midway between the extremes
already indicated. Our share in the Exhibition was creditable to us as a
nation not yet a century old, situated three to five thousand miles from
London; it embraced many articles of great practical value though
uncouth in form and utterly unattractive to the mere sight-seer; other
nations will profit by it and we shall lose no credit; but it fell far
short of what it might have been, and did not fairly exhibit the
progress and present condition of the Useful Arts in this country. We
can and must do better next time, and that without calling on the
Federal Treasury to pay a dollar of the expense.

Friends in Europe! I may never again meet the greater number of you on
earth; allow me thus informally to tender you my hearty thanks for many
well remembered acts of unsought kindness and unexpected hospitality.
That your future years may be many and prosperous, and your embarkation
on the Great Voyage which succeeds the journey of life may be serene and
hopeful, is the fervent prayer of

     Yours, sincerely,
     H. G.

     _New-York, October 1st, 1851._




                                     CONTENTS.


                                                                  _Page_

                I. Crossing the Atlantic,                             9

               II. Opening of the Fair,                              19

              III. The Great Exhibition,                             29

               IV. England--Hampton Court,                           38

                V. The Future of Labor--Day-Break,                   47

               VI. British Progress,                                 53

              VII. London--New-York,                                 62

             VIII. The Exhibition,                                   69

               IX. Sights in London,                                 77

                X. Political Economy, as Studied at the World's
                   Exhibition,                                       87

               XI. Royal Sunshine,                                   96

              XII. The Flax-Cotton Revolution,                      107

             XIII. Leaving the Exhibition,                          113

              XIV. London to Paris,                                 120

               XV. The Future of France,                            127

              XVI. Paris, Social and Moral,                         134

             XVII. Paris, Political and Social,                     141

            XVIII. The Palaces of France,                           149

              XIX. France, Central and Eastern,                     157

               XX. Lyons to Turin,                                  164

              XXI. Sardinia--Italy--Freedom,                        174

             XXII. Pisa--The Leaning Tower (Letter Missing),        184

            XXIII. First Day in the Papal States,                   186

             XXIV. The Eternal City,                                191

              XXV. St. Peter's,                                     201

             XXVI. The Romans of To-day,                            208

            XXVII. Central Italy--Florence,                         214

           XXVIII. Eastern Italy--The Po,                           222

             XXIX. Venice,                                          231

              XXX. Lombardy,                                        238

             XXXI. Switzerland,                                     248

            XXXII. Lucerne to Basle,                                256

           XXXIII. Germany,                                         261

            XXXIV. Belgium,                                         268

             XXXV. Paris to London,                                 273

            XXXVI. Universal Peace Congress,                        279

           XXXVII. America at the World's Fair,                     286

          XXXVIII. England, Central and Northern,                   293

            XXXIX. Scotland,                                        303

               XL. Ireland--Ulster,                                 308

              XLI. West of Ireland--Atlantic Mails,                 312

             XLII. Ireland--South,                                  320

            XLIII. Prospects of Ireland,                            328

             XLIV. The English,                                     340




GLANCES AT EUROPE.




I.

CROSSING THE ATLANTIC.


     LIVERPOOL (Eng.), April 28th, 1851.

The leaden skies, the chilly rain, the general out-door aspect and
prospect of discomfort prevailing in New York when our good steamship
BALTIC cast loose from her dock at noon on the 16th inst., were not
particularly calculated to inspire and exhilarate the goodly number who
were then bidding adieu, for months at least, to home, country, and
friends. The most sanguine of the inexperienced, however, appealed for
solace to the wind, which they, so long as the City completely sheltered
us on the east, insisted was blowing from "a point _West_ of
North"--whence they very logically deduced that the north-east storm,
now some thirty-six to forty-eight hours old, had spent its force, and
would soon give place to a serene and lucid atmosphere. I believe the
Barometer at no time countenanced this augury, which a brief experience
sufficed most signally to confute. Before we had passed Coney Island, it
was abundantly certain that our freshening breeze hailed directly from
Labrador and the icebergs beyond, and had no idea of changing its
quarters. By the time we were fairly outside of Sandy Hook, we were
struggling with as uncomfortable and damaging a cross-sea as had ever
enlarged _my_ slender nautical experience; and in the course of the next
hour the high resolves, the valorous defiances, of the scores who had
embarked in the settled determination that they _would not_ be sea-sick,
had been exchanged for pallid faces and heaving bosoms. Of our two
hundred passengers, possibly one-half were able to face the dinner-table
at 4 P. M.; less than one-fourth mustered to supper at 7; while a stern
but scanty remnant--perhaps twenty in all--answered the summons to
breakfast next morning.

I was not in any one of these categories. So long as I was able, I
walked the deck, and sought to occupy my eyes, my limbs, my brain, with
something else than the sea and its perturbations. The attempt, however,
proved a signal failure. By the time we were five miles off the Hook, I
was a decided case; another hour laid me prostrate, though I refused to
leave the deck; at six o'clock a friend, finding me recumbent and
hopeless in the smokers' room, persuaded and helped me to go below.
There I unbooted and swayed into my berth, which endured me, perforce,
for the next twenty-four hours. I then summoned strength to crawl on
deck, because, while I remained below, my sufferings were barely less
than while walking above, and my recovery hopeless.

I shall not harrow up the souls nor the stomachs of landsmen, as yet
reveling in blissful ignorance of its tortures, with any description of
sea-sickness. They will know all in ample season; or if not, so much the
better. But naked honesty requires a correction of the prevalent error
that this malady is necessarily transient and easily overcome. Thousands
who imagine they have been sea-sick on some River or Lake steamboat, or
even during a brief sleigh-ride, are annually putting to sea with as
little necessity or urgency as suffices to send them on a jaunt to
Niagara or the White Mountains. They suppose they may very probably be
"qualmish" for a few hours, but that (they fancy) will but highten the
general enjoyment of the voyage. Now it is quite true that any green
sea-goer _may_ be sick for a few hours only; he may even not be sick at
all. But the _probability_ is very far from this, especially when the
voyage is undertaken in any other than one of the four sunniest,
blandest months in the year. Of every hundred who cross the Atlantic for
the first time, I am confident that two-thirds endure more than they had
done in all the five years preceding--more than they would do during two
months' hard labor as convicts in a State Prison. Of _our_ two hundred,
I think fifty did not see a healthy or really happy hour during the
passage; while as many more were sufferers for at least half the time.
The other hundred were mainly Ocean's old acquaintances, and on that
account treated more kindly; but many of these had some trying hours.

Utter indifference to life and all its belongings is one of the
characteristics of a genuine case of sea-sickness No. 1. I enjoyed some
opportunities of observing this during our voyage. For instance: One
evening I was standing by a sick gentleman who had dragged himself or
been carried on deck and laid down on a water-proof mattress which
raised him two or three inches from the floor. Suddenly a great wave
broke square over the bow of the ship and rushed aft in a river through
either gangway--