Recollections of a Busy Life: Being the Reminiscences of a Liverpool Merchant 1840-1910

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!

The Franco-German Battlefields

The most interesting journey I ever made was in 1871, when with my father and the late Dr. Grimsdale and Mr. Ryley I visited the Franco-Prussian battlefields. The war was not ended and the German army was still surrounding Paris, which made travelling difficult, but we met with great civility from the Prussian officers, and visited the battlefields of Saarbrück, where the Prince Imperial received his baptism of fire, Wörth, Hagenau, Weissenburg, Gravelotte, where we found men still burying the horses slain in the battle, Mars-le-Tour, Metz, and finally Sedan. We gathered many trophies, but were not allowed to bring them away. Wherever the Prussians made a stand and were slaughtered in their hundreds, as at Gravelotte, we found pieces of small German Bibles, and we were told that every German soldier, from the Emperor William downwards, carried a Bible in his haversack.

Costa Rica

The year after I retired from business, in 1891, I visited Costa Rica with my eldest daughter, to inspect the railway in which we were much interested. The country from Port Limon, which lies on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, bathed in a tropical sun, to San José, the capital, is most picturesque and remarkable for its deep ravines, its rapid rivers, and its wealth of vegetation. On leaving Port Limon we passed through long and deep valleys filled with palms and every species of tropical plants, which made us exclaim that we might be in the Kew conservatories. We gradually worked our way up 5,000 feet to the plateau upon which San José is situated, and the scenery hereabouts reminded us of an undulating English landscape, such as we have in Kent or Surrey.

The railway was then in its infancy, and in a very rickety condition; it was said that the man who travelled by it for the first time was a hero, and if he travelled a second time he was a fool. But reconstruction was already in progress.

We were much interested in the banana cultivation, as it supplied cargoes for our steamers sailing between Port Limon and New York, a trade which has since developed into gigantic dimensions. We had all the anxiety of finding the capital necessary to finance both the banana industry and the railway, and like most pioneers we did not secure the reward; it went to an American company, who reaped where we had sown. My daughter and I had a charming trip to Cartago, and ascended the volcano of Iritzu, 13,000 feet, and from the summit had a view of both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. We made also a trip to the Pacific coast on horseback; it was a long journey, and in order to escape the heat of the sun we travelled chiefly by night. We passed innumerable waggons drawn by bullocks and laden with coffee for shipment from the Pacific coast. It required some vigilance on our part to prevent our horses being struck by the long horns of the bullocks as we passed by. We had eventually to leave the high road and strike through the bush, the Indians going before cutting down with their machettes the vines and tree branches which blocked the path. We returned only a few days later, yet such is the rapid growth of tropical vegetation that the Indians had again to clear the track. We stayed the second night at the village of Esperanto, and early next day reached the Trinidad gold mines, situated on the mountain side looking down on the Pacific coast. I shall never forget the view which stretched out before us. There was the Pacific Ocean lying opalescent in the bright beams of the morning sun, and studded with little blue islands, looking like so many blue beads upon a silvered mirror.

On our way out from Jamaica to Limon we spent two days at Colon. The works on the Panama Canal were in active operation. We went a little way up and saw enough to convince me that the French would never make the canal. The waste of money was prodigious. We saw a train of trucks loaded with cases side-tracked into the bush and completely grown over. The sickness was also terrible. Every day a funeral train came down to Colon from the works with bodies for interment, and grave spaces in the cemetery were so scarce that they were let at a rental of so much a month. Now, thanks to the researches of the Liverpool Tropical School of Medicine, these pestiferous swamps have been rendered innocuous.

Jamaica

I made a voyage to Jamaica in 1864, the year of the rebellion, and had the pleasure of staying with Governor Eyre. The rebellion at one time assumed a very grave aspect, and the governor got into serious trouble, because, to save the situation, he shot several of the rebel ringleaders, after a trial by drumhead court-martial. I fully believed from what I knew of the circumstances that he was justified in doing so, and his action prevented a serious outbreak, but he was made the scapegoat.

I have visited Jamaica several times, and until I had seen Ceylon, considered it the most beautiful island in the world.

Mexico

In 1892, when on a visit to America with my daughter, I was asked to proceed to Mexico, to endeavour to induce the Mexican Government to give their National Bonds in exchange for the bonds of the Mexican Southern Railway. These had been guaranteed by the several Mexican States through which the railway passed, but there had been default in the interest payments, and the bonds were in consequence greatly depreciated in value, the $100 bond selling in London for $25. I thought it was a hopeless mission, but decided to go. We proceeded from New York through Arkansas and Texas. It took us thirty-six hours in the train to cross Texas, travelling all the while; this will give some idea of the great size of this state.

On our way we saw in the newspapers that an insurrection had broken out in Mexico, headed by Gusman. The New York papers had long detailed accounts. This induced me to break our journey at Laredo, which is situated on the frontier of Mexico, as I did not wish to expose my daughter to any danger. On my arrival at the hotel at Laredo, I sent for the landlord and asked him where the rebellion was. He replied, "Right here, sir, in this hotel." I could not understand what he meant, and desired him to explain himself. "Well," he said, "I will tell you how it was. Some reports reached the north that a civil war had broken out, and one day fourteen newspaper reporters arrived. They came to this hotel and sent for me, and demanded how they could get to the seat of the war, and where Gusman, the leader of the rebels, was to be found. I told them there was no rebellion, and that I had seen Gusman in Laredo a few days before, selling cattle. They were not, however, satisfied, and said that they had come down to write up a civil war, and a civil war there must be. They stayed in this hotel ten days, sending to the north every day long accounts of the progress of hostilities, and then they returned home." I thought this was one of the best stories of the methods of American journalists that I had ever heard, and as I knew it to be true, I repeated it to President Diaz a few days later, on my arrival at the city of Mexico. The old President was much amused, and said it reminded him of the story of a tiger. He received news that the people of a certain village were being destroyed by a tiger, and dared not venture out for fear of the animal, so he sent down a company of soldiers; they found it was quite true that the villagers were scared to death, but there was no tiger. A puma is called in Mexico a tiger.

When I told the President the object of my mission to Mexico he laughed, and exclaimed, "Did I think he was going to give me his good money for my bad money?" In my heart I thought he had very aptly described the situation, but I replied that I hoped to convince him that the good credit of Mexico was in jeopardy by my railway bonds being in default, and if the Government would step into the breach it would place the credit of Mexico in a high position in the London money market. I, however, made very little impression upon him. I was asking for Mexican bonds worth £900,000 for my railway bonds worth at the outside £250,000. I had several interviews, but met with very little encouragement. I, however, got to know the President, and he became very friendly and pleasant to me. On one of my visits he told me of his birthplace, Oaxaca, situated about 200 miles south of the city of Mexico; he was evidently very proud of it. He spoke of the beauty of the situation, the richness of the country, both in the fertility of its soil and mineral resources, and the industry of the Indian population.

I thought it would not be a bad idea to run down and see Oaxaca. I was doing no good in Mexico, and I should also be able to see something of the Mexican Southern Railway, which ran about half the way to a place called Tehuacan. We proceeded by train to Puebla, where I left my daughter, and then down the long broad valley of Tehuacan. Every few miles we came to a magnificent church, which formerly had been the centre of a village or town, for during the Spanish occupation this valley contained a population of 1,000,000, and was very fertile and rich. We saw now and again the aqueducts and tunnels which had conveyed water through the valley for irrigation.

At Tehuacan we passed through several fine cañons; here we took horses, as the railway was not completed beyond this point, and rode through a very delightful country. The first night we slept at an Indian village, or tried to sleep, but were disturbed by the barking of dogs. Every house appeared to possess a dog, which made it its business to howl and make the night hideous. The village was quite tidy, the houses mostly built of bamboo and thatched with dried palm leaves. The Indians themselves, in their wide-brimmed hats and white calico clothes, often wearing woollen ponchos, were picturesque and interesting.

On our arrival at Oaxaca we put up at the hotel, which was far from inviting, and then called upon the governor and the archbishop, the latter an Irishman with a decided brogue; he is a very rich and powerful man, and practically rules over his diocese, both in temporal as well as in spiritual affairs.

Oaxaca was a charming little town, prettily situated in a valley; in the centre of the town is a public garden and bandstand. One of the secrets of President Diaz's popularity is his sympathy with the love of music so general among the Indians, and he has wisely provided every little town with its orchestra.

We were much interested in the market, and saw the country people bring in with their produce little nuggets of gold, which they had washed out of the gravel beds on their farms.

The Indians in these parts consist of two clans or tribes, the "Black" and the "White Hats"; the "Black Hats" were a troublesome people to control, but so far as I could see, the Indians are an industrious and well-conducted people.

On my return to the city of Mexico, the President was greatly surprised and delighted when I told him where I had been. He was much interested and asked me many questions, and from this moment my mission appeared to make headway; I had made the President my friend. A bill was introduced into the Legislature authorising the issue of Mexican bonds in exchange for my railway bonds. Although it met with some opposition, the President was all-powerful, and it passed the Legislature, and in six weeks I received the new Mexican government bonds for £1,000,000. I can well remember the smile of the chief clerk in the Treasury when he handed me the bonds. I asked him why he laughed; he said such a rapid thing had never been done in Mexico before, and he could not quite see why they should have hurried in this way; nor could I, save that my daily presence at the Treasury acted as a gentle stimulus.

We returned home via El Paso and Denver. The directors of the Mexican Southern Railway were greatly delighted at my success, and presented me with a cheque for £1,000. I look back upon this journey with much pleasure, not only from recollections of a very beautiful and fascinating country and people, but having enjoyed the friendship of two very remarkable men – President Diaz and Signor Don Limantour, the present finance minister in Mexico. One day in course of conversation with the President, I mentioned my great admiration for Signor Don Limantour, and I added that he had been educated at Stonyhurst, in England, which I considered a great advantage to him. It was, therefore, very gratifying to me to learn shortly after I had reached England that he had been made finance minister, with the understanding that he would succeed Diaz as President. In the hands of two such capable men the future of Mexico is assured.

President Diaz is a man of great commonsense and of strong will. To consolidate his rule in the early years of his presidency he was obliged to be severe. The country was infested with banditti, who put a stop to all commerce and travel. Diaz, when he caught the banditti, made them into rural guards, on the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief, and by this means he quickly restored law and order. Even when I was in the country gibbets were still to be seen, some having hanging to them the remains of their former victims. For some years after I returned President Diaz occasionally corresponded with me, and I kept him informed of the condition of things in Europe, and in particular of the position of Mexican finance in London.

America in 1905

In company with Lord Claud Hamilton I again visited America in 1905. We sailed from Liverpool in the "Ivernia." When we arrived at Boston Lord Claud received a letter from the president of the New York Central Railway placing at his disposal a private car which would be attached to any train we required, and in which we were free to go to any part of the United States. This was a personal compliment to Lord Claud as chairman of the Great Eastern Railway.

We found the car contained a dining saloon, four state rooms, and at one end was a smoking room and observatory in which we could sit and view the scenery.

There was an excellent chef and a very attentive steward; and in this car we travelled and lived for three weeks, being most sumptuously entertained. We picked up two friends, so we had a very pleasant party of four. We visited Niagara, Chicago, St. Louis (to see the Exhibition), Washington, and other places en route. At St. Louis we were received by the president of the Exhibition, Mr. Francis, who drove us round the grounds in a Western prairie coach, painted yellow, and drawn by six white horses. It was a curious experience. The coach was fully laden, and as we rushed around the corners it lurched and heeled over in a truly alarming manner. We felt for the time as if we were part of a Wild West circus troupe.

The Exhibition was very well worth seeing. Of all the great exhibitions it was quite one of the best. The illuminations in the evening were on a magnificent scale.

During our railway progress we were surprised at the number of wrecks of trains we passed; seventeen in all. Many had been accompanied by loss of life, but little or no allusion was made to them in the newspapers. We began to feel anxious for our own safety, and we were congratulating ourselves upon our escape from all trouble, when, nearing New York on our way from Washington, suddenly we saw our locomotive sail away in front of us, and looking back saw the remainder of the train standing half-a-mile behind us. The couplings had broken, but the automatic brakes, fortunately, brought us to a standstill.

When we arrived at any important place at which we intended to make a stay, we placed the private car on a siding while we took up our quarters at an hotel or a country club. These country clubs are charming institutions in America, and the members are most generous in extending their hospitality to travellers.

When at Washington President Roosevelt kindly invited us to dine at the White House. We were unable to accept this invitation, and he then asked us to lunch. With the exception of General Chaffee, we were alone with the President. The White House has a very English homelike aspect. It is a large Georgian house furnished and decorated in Adams style, and resembles an English gentleman's country residence.

President Roosevelt is a thick-set man of medium height, very vivacious and active, both mentally and physically. He had all the energy and strenuous activity, while his Chief Secretary of State, Mr. Hay, had the wisdom and discretion, and the two made a strong combination. When Mr. Hay died this salutary restraint was removed, and President Roosevelt tried to carry out reforms with a rush. Though his intentions were excellent the rough and hasty methods he adopted plunged the country into a disastrous and far-reaching financial disaster.

At lunch the President told me that he had that morning been reading Macaulay for the third or fourth time, and was anxious to know when Tories in England ceased to be called Tories. I replied, "It was after Macaulay's time; about the 'sixties." He then told me that he had been to see the Jiu-jitsu clan of Japanese perform with their grips; they had 300 grips, and being fond of athletics he had learned thirty of them. After lunch, while I was standing near the fire, the President rushed at me and said, "Let me try a few of the grips on you," and before I could answer he had my right arm over his shoulder, and I had to follow bodily. He did not hurt me, and relinquished his grip when he found he was my master. He then took hold of my legs below the knees and threw me over his shoulder, and finally, taking hold of my hands, placed me on my back. The easy way in which he caught me and prevented my falling was a proof of his great muscular strength. He attacked Lord Claud Hamilton in a similar fashion, but Lord Claud shrank from the contest. I think this was a proof of the extreme human character of the President. He will live as one of America's greatest Presidents, and I suppose there are not many men who can say they have wrestled with this great uncrowned king of America.

Miscellaneous Tours

Of our winter travels in the Mediterranean, our visits to Egypt, Greece, Algiers, Norway, etc., I need not say much, the ground is now so familiar to most people.

The Desert of Sahara

We had one little experience, to which I look back with much interest. Staying at Biskra, on the borders of the Sahara, we formed a camp and went four or five days' sojourn into the desert, quite a unique and pleasant tour. We were joined by two American ladies, and our camp consisted of eleven men and about a dozen mules, and four or five camels. We had an excellent native dragoman, who turned out to be a very good cook. The camels carried the tents and bedding, and the kitchen utensils, while we rode the mules. As we marched out of Biskra we formed quite an important cavalcade and all the people in the hotel turned out to see us. After marching about ten miles we halted for lunch, and it was surprising how soon Achmed had a ragout ready for us. We afterwards marched about fifteen miles, and pitched our camp just outside an oasis, and not very far from an encampment of Bedouins.

The days were very hot, but the nights quite cold. Our beds were spread on the ground in the tents, and we required all our blankets and rugs to keep the cold out. An armed Arab slept on the ground outside the door of each tent. The desert at this season of the year – the spring – was covered, more or less, with short grass and an abundance of wild flowers. In many places we had to pass over large areas of sand dunes, which were very trying, and to cross the dried-up beds of rivers. These rivers come down from the mountains when the snows melt and rush along in mighty torrents, scooping out water courses, until they finally lose themselves in the burning sands of the desert. As we got away from the mountains, the desert began to look more and more like the ocean, with its clean-cut horizon all round, the hummocks of sand reminding one of Atlantic seas. The clear blue sky and the translucent atmosphere imparted an enchanting aspect to the scene; indeed, it became fascinating, and I can quite enter into the spirit of the Bedouin, who sees in the wastes of his Sahara so much to love and to attract him.

The intense sense of loneliness is a new experience for an Englishman, and awakens within him strange emotions, giving him new views of his environment and throwing new lights upon the future. The starlight nights were lovely, and on one night we were able to play bridge by starlight up to midnight.

We passed through several oases, which usually consist of a village surrounded by two or three thousand date-palm trees, the houses being built of mud and thatched with palm leaves. Palms constitute the riches of this country, and a man's wealth is computed by the number of date-palm trees or camels he possesses.

The Bedouin tribes we came across seemed a well-behaved, peaceable people. They move about with their flocks of sheep and goats. At night their flocks are tethered about their tents, and by day they wander in search of pasture. The men beguile their time while watching their flocks by doing embroideries, and also in making garments. They lead the simple life.

The Count's Garden, Biskra

All lovers of a garden will take great delight in the Count's garden at Biskra, rendered famous by the beautiful poetic description given of it by Mr. Hichens in his novel the Garden of Allah.

The garden is situated just outside Biskra, on the banks of the river Benevent. It was laid out fifty years ago by the Count Landon, who lavished his money upon it to make this the most perfect tropical garden in the world. Every species of palm tree, every plant known in the tropics, finds here a home. On the south side it is bordered by the river, with terraces overlooking the desert wastes of the Sahara beyond; running streams of water intersect the garden and afford the means of the constant irrigation which is necessary. The borders and walks are wonderfully kept by an army of Arab gardeners, so vigilant in their attention that it is almost impossible for a falling leaf to reach the ground before it is caught and removed; thus everything is tidy and orderly.

It was in this garden Domini met the Count Anteoni and listened to his reasons for finding his happiness in its leafy solitudes: "I come here to think; this is my special thinking place." It was to him an ideal place for finding out interior truth. The Arabs of the Sahara sing, "No one but God and I knows what is in my heart," and so the vast solitudes of the desert in their terrible stillness, overwhelming distances, and awe-inspiring silence, make men think and think. The Arabs say in truth that "No man can be an atheist in the desert."

We enter the garden through a large gateway, flanked on one side by a two-storied Moorish dwelling-house which contains the sleeping apartments of the Count. We cross a large court-yard margined by hedgerows, towering up twenty feet or more, deeply cut to form a shade for the benches underneath. At the far end of the quadrangle is the salon, the walls of which are covered with bougainvillea of a deep violet colour. On the far side the salon looks out upon a broad avenue of date-palms, fringed with hedgerows of dark red hibiscus and scarlet geranium. A few yards beyond is the Arab divan, embowered by purple bougainvillea. Huge date-palms lift their heads above all and afford a welcome shade from the direct rays of the sun; but its rays glint through and light up the orange trees, with their red golden fruit, which stand on the far side, and throw a yellow shimmering tint over the feathery foliage of the bamboos which fill in the space between the palms.

Everywhere overhead the date-palms and the cocoanut-palms meet and form a series of leafy arcades, throwing a canopy over the undergrowth, protecting it from the scorching rays of the sun. This undergrowth consists of hedgerows of bamboos, hibiscus, and alamanders, intersected by avenues of date and cocoanut-palms, alcoves in shady corners, pergolas shrouded with creepers leading out of mysterious paths and by-ways, groves of phœnix-palms and bananas, thickets of scarlet geraniums, and large clearings filled with fan-palms. Everywhere is the music of running water rippling as it flows through its tortuous channels, distributing life and luxuriance in its path.