Part 1

Chapter 13,618 wordsPublic domain

Produced by Marius Masi, Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

Transcriber's note:

The following typographical errors have been corrected:

Page 75: "It was to this charming valley that Walter Scott came, with his young wife, in the first year of their wedded life." 'to' amended from 'to to'.

Page 108: "We believe that many changes in the conditions of life and labour are needed, and are coming to pass ..." 'needed' amended from 'neeeded'.

Page 114: "At sight of this group of buildings one almost expects to catch a glimpse of the well-meaning but not over-wise Mrs. Thornburgh ..." 'buildings' amended from 'buidings'.

Page 249: "... everything that makes us see across our poor lives a splendid goal and a boundless future, comes to us from people of simplicity, those who have made another object of their desires than the passing satisfaction and vanity ..." 'splendid' amended from 'spendid'.

By Charles S. Olcott

THE LURE OF THE CAMERA. Illustrated.

THE COUNTRY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Illustrated.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

THE LURE OF THE CAMERA

BY CHARLES S. OLCOTT

_Author of "George Eliot: Scenes and People of her Novels" and "The Country of Sir Walter Scott"_

ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

The Riverside Press Cambridge 1914

TO MY BOYS GAGE, CHARLES, AND HOWARD THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

PREFACE

The difference between a ramble and a journey is about the same as that between pleasure and business. When you go anywhere for a serious purpose, you make a journey; but if you go for pleasure (and don't take the pleasure too seriously, as many do) you only ramble.

The sketches in this volume, which takes its name from the first chapter, are based upon "rambles," which were for the most part merely incidental excursions, made possible by various "journeys" undertaken for more serious purposes. It has been the practice of the author for many years to carry a camera on his travels, so that, if chance should take him within easy distance of some place of literary, historic, or scenic interest, he might not miss the opportunity to pursue his favorite avocation.

If the reader is asked to make long flights, as from Scotland to Italy, then back, across the Atlantic, to New England, and thence overland to Wyoming and Arizona, he must remember that ramblers take no account of distance or direction. In this case they must take no account of time, for these rambles are but the chance happenings that have occurred at intervals in a period of more than a dozen years.

People who are in a hurry, and those who in traveling seek to "do" the largest number of places in the shortest number of days, are advised not to travel with an amateur photographer. Not only must he have leisure to find and study his subjects, but he is likely to wander away from the well-worn paths and use up his time in making inquiries, in a fashion quite exasperating to the tourist absorbed in his itinerary.

The rambles here chronicled could not possibly be organized into an itinerary or moulded into a guidebook. The author simply invites those who have inclinations similar to his own, to wander with him, away from the customary paths of travel, and into the homes of certain distinguished authors or the scenes of their writings, and to visit with him various places of historic interest or natural beauty, without a thought of maps, distances, time-tables, or the toil and dust of travel. This is the real essence of rambling.

The chapter on "The Country of Mrs. Humphry Ward" was published originally in _The Outlook_ in 1909, and "A Day in Wordsworth's Country," in the same magazine in 1910.

CONTENTS

I. THE LURE OF THE CAMERA 1

II. LITERARY RAMBLES IN GREAT BRITAIN 15

English Courtesy--The George Eliot Country--Experiences in Rural England. Overcoming Obstacles--A London "Bobby"--Carlyle's Birthplace--The Country of Scott and Burns

III. A DAY IN WORDSWORTH'S COUNTRY 49

IV. FROM HAWTHORNDEN TO ROSLIN GLEN 73

V. THE COUNTRY OF MRS. HUMPHRY WARD 93

I. MRS. WARD AND HER WORK 95

II. THE REAL ROBERT ELSMERE 110

III. OTHER PEOPLE AND SCENERY 128

VI. A TOUR OF THE ITALIAN LAKES 147

VII. LITERARY LANDMARKS OF NEW ENGLAND 175

I. CONCORD 179

II. SALEM 196

III. PORTSMOUTH 207

IV. THE ISLES OF SHOALS 222

VIII. A DAY WITH JOHN BURROUGHS 233

IX. GLIMPSES OF THE YELLOWSTONE 251

X. THE GRAND CANON OF ARIZONA 271

INDEX 297

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE STEPPING STONES _Frontispiece_

On the River Rothay, near Ambleside, England, and below Fox How, the home of Thomas Arnold of Rugby, grandfather of Mrs. Humphry Ward. One of the scenes in "Robert Elsmere" was suggested by these stones.

A PATH IN BRETTON WOODS 10

White Mountains, N.H.

PROFILE LAKE 12

Showing the Old Man of the Mountains.

In the Franconia Notch, White Mountains, N.H. The profile suggested to Hawthorne the tale of "The Great Stone Face."

THE GRAND SALOON, ARBURY HALL 22

Near Nuneaton, England. The original of Cheverel Manor, in George Eliot's "Mr. Gilfil's Love Story."

A SCHOOL IN NUNEATON 30

Where George Eliot attended school in her eighth or ninth year.

THE BROMLEY-DAVENPORT ARMS 34

In Ellastone, England, the original of the "Donnithorne Arms" of "Adam Bede."

THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS 40

In Ayrshire, Scotland. The poet was born here January 25, 1759. The left of the building is the cottage of two rooms where the family lived. Adjoining, on the right, is the "byre," or cow-house.

THE BURNS MONUMENT, AYRSHIRE 44

The monument was built in 1820. It is sixty feet high, and almost an exact duplicate of the monument in Edinburgh.

THE BRIG O' DOON, AYRSHIRE 48

The bridge over which Tam o' Shanter rode to escape the witches.

GRASMERE LAKE 60

"For rest of body perfect was the spot."

DOVE COTTAGE, GRASMERE 64

Wordsworth's home for eight years. The view is from the garden in the rear of the cottage.

WORDSWORTH'S WELL 68

In the garden of Dove Cottage, where the poet placed "bright gowan and marsh marigold" brought from the border of the lake.

HAWTHORNDEN 76

The home of the Drummond family, on the banks of the Esk, Scotland.

THE SYCAMORE 80

The tree at Hawthornden under which William Drummond met Ben Jonson.

RUINS OF ROSLIN CASTLE 86

In Roslin Glen overlooking the Esk.

MRS. HUMPHRY WARD AND MISS DOROTHY WARD 96

At the villa in Cadenabbia, overlooking Lake Como, where Mrs. Ward wrote "Lady Rose's Daughter."

"UNDER LOUGHRIGG" 100

The view from the study window of Thomas Arnold at Fox How.

THE PASSMORE EDWARDS SETTLEMENT HOUSE 104

Tavistock Place, London.

THE LIME WALK 110

In the garden of Trinity College, Oxford. Referred to in "Robert Elsmere."

COTTAGE OF "MARY BACKHOUSE" 114

At Sad Gill, Long Sleddale. The barns and storehouses, on either end, give the small cottage an attenuated appearance.

THE RECTORY OF PEPER HAROW 118

In Surrey, England. The original of Murewell Rectory, the house of "Robert Elsmere."

THE ROTHAY AND NAB SCAR 130

From Pelter Bridge, Ambleside, England.

LAKE COMO 138

From "the path that led to the woods overhanging the Villa Carlotta."

STOCKS 144

The home of Mrs. Humphry Ward, near Tring, England.

LAKE MAGGIORE, ITALY 150

According to Ruskin the most beautiful of the Italian Lakes.

ISOLA BELLA, LAKE MAGGIORE 154

The costly summer home of Count Vitaliano Borromeo in the Seventeenth Century.

THE ATRIUM OF THE VILLA MARIA 170

At Cadenabbia, Lake Como.

"I CALL THIS MY J. M. W. TURNER" 174

View from the dining-room window of the Villa Maria.

THE OLD MANSE 180

In Concord, where Emerson wrote "Nature" and Hawthorne lived for three years.

WALDEN WOODS 184

The cairn marks the site of Thoreau's hut and "Thoreau's Cove" is seen in the distance.

HOUSE OF RALPH WALDO EMERSON 190

Concord, Massachusetts.

THE WAYSIDE 194

House in Concord, where Hawthorne lived in the latest years of his life.

THE MALL STREET HOUSE 200

Salem, Mass. The room in which Hawthorne wrote "The Scarlet Letter" is in the third floor, front, on the left.

THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES 204

The house in Turner Street, Salem, Mass., built in 1669, and owned by the Ingersoll family.

THE BAILEY HOUSE 208

The house in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, of Thomas Bailey Aldrich's grandfather, known as "Captain Nutter" in "The Story of a Bad Boy."

"AUNT ABIGAIL'S" ROOM 212

In the "Nutter" House.

AN OLD WHARF 216

On the Piscataqua River, Portsmouth, where Aldrich often played in his boyhood.

CELIA THAXTER'S COTTAGE 224

On Appledore, where the poet maintained her famous "Island Garden."

APPLEDORE 232

Trap-dike, on Appledore, the largest of the "Isles of Shoals."

JOHN BURROUGHS AT WOODCHUCK LODGE 238

The summer home of Mr. Burroughs is near Roxbury, New York, in the Catskill Mountains. When not at work he enjoys "the peace of the hills."

JOHN BURROUGHS AT WORK 244

The "study" is a barn, where the naturalist sits facing the open doors. He looks out upon a stone wall where the birds and small animals come to "talk with him." The "desk" is an old hen-coop, with straw in the bottom, to keep his feet warm.

HYMEN TERRACE 254

At Mammoth Hot Springs in the Yellowstone National Park.

PULPIT TERRACE 258

A part of Jupiter Terrace, the largest of the formations at Mammoth Hot Springs.

OLD FAITHFUL 264

The famous geyser in the Upper Geyser Basin of the Yellowstone National Park. It plays a stream about one hundred and fifty feet high every sixty-five minutes, with but slight variations.

THE GROTTO GEYSER 266

A geyser in the Yellowstone National Park notable for its fantastic crater.

THE CANON OF THE YELLOWSTONE RIVER 268

The view from Inspiration Point.

THE TRAIL, GRAND CANON 278

The view shows the upper part of Bright Angels' Trail, as it appears when the ground is covered with snow.

THE GRAND CANON OF ARIZONA 290

The view from Bright Angels'. The plateau over which the trail leads to the edge of the river is partly covered by a deep shadow. The great formation in the left foreground is known as the "Battleship."

THE LURE OF THE CAMERA

Two pictures, each about the size of a large postage-stamp, are among my treasured possessions. In the first, a curly-headed boy of two, in a white dress, is vigorously kicking a football. The second depicts a human wheelbarrow, the body composed of a sturdy lad of seven, whose two plump arms serve admirably the purpose of a wheel, his stout legs making an excellent pair of handles, while the motive power is supplied by an equally robust lad of eight, who grasps his younger brother firmly by the ankles.

These two photographs, taken with a camera so small that in operation it was completely concealed between the palms of my hands, revealed to me for the first time the fascination of amateur photography. The discovery meant that whatever interested me, even if no more than the antics of my children, might be instantly recorded. I had no idea of artistic composition, nor of the proper manipulation of plates, films, and printing papers. Still less did I foresee that the tiny little black box contained the germ of an indefinable impulse, which, expanding and growing more powerful year by year, was to lead me into fields which I had never dreamed of exploring, into habits of observation never before a part of my nature, and into a knowledge of countless places of historic and literary interest as well as natural beauty and grandeur, which would never have been mine but for the lure of the camera.

The spell began to make itself felt almost immediately. I determined to buy a camera of my own,--for the two infinitesimal pictures were taken with a borrowed instrument,--and was soon the possessor of a much larger black box capable of making pictures three and a quarter inches square. The film which came with it was quickly "shot off," and then came the impulse to go somewhere. My wife and I decided to spend a day at a pretty little inland lake, a few hours' ride from our home. I hastened to the druggist's to buy another film, and without waiting to insert it in the camera, off we started. Arrived on the scene, our first duty was to "load" the new machine. The roll puzzled us a little. Somehow the directions did not seem to fit. But we got it in place finally and began to enjoy the pleasures of photography.

Our first view was a general survey of the lake, which is nearly twelve miles long, with many bays and indentations in the shore-line, making a rather large subject for a picture only three and a quarter inches square. But such difficulties did not seem formidable. The directions clearly intimated that if we would only "press the button" somebody would "do the rest," and we expected the intangible somebody to perform his part of the contract as faithfully as we were doing ours. Years afterward, chancing to pass by the British Museum, which stretches its huge bulk through Great Russell Street a distance of nearly four hundred feet, we saw a little girl taking its picture with a "Brownie" camera. "That reminds me of 'Dignity and Impudence,'" said my wife, referring to Landseer's well-known painting which we had seen at the National Gallery that afternoon. This is the mistake which all amateurs make at first--that of expecting the little instrument to perform impossible feats.

But to resume my story. We spent a remarkably pleasant day composing beautiful views. We shot at the bays and the rocks, at the steamers and the sail-boats and at everything else in sight except the huge ice-houses which disfigure what would otherwise be one of the prettiest lakes in America. We posed for each other in picturesque attitudes on the rocks and in a little rowboat which we had hired. We had a delightful outing and only regretted when, all too soon, the last film was exposed. But we felt unusually happy to think that we had a wonderful record of the day's proceedings to show to our family and friends.

That night I developed the roll, laboriously cutting off one exposure at a time, and putting it through the developer according to directions. Number one was blank! Something wrong with the shutter, I thought, and tried the next. Number two was also blank!! What can this mean? Perhaps I haven't developed it long enough. So into the fluid went another one, and this one stayed a long time. To my dismay number three was as vacant as the others, and so were all the rest of the twelve. Early the next morning I was at the drug store demanding an explanation. The druggist confessed that the film-roll he had sold me was intended for another camera, but "It ought to have worked on yours," he said. Subsequent investigation proved that on my camera the film was to be inserted on the left, while on the other kind it went in on the right. This difference seemed insignificant until I discovered that in turning the roll to insert it on the opposite side from what was intended, I had brought the strip of black paper to the front of the film, thus preventing any exposure at all! Thus I learned the first principle of amateur photography:--_Know exactly what you are doing_ and take no chances with your apparatus. A young lady, to whom I once attempted to explain the use of the various "stops" on her camera, impatiently interrupted me with the remark, "Well, that's the way it was set when I got it and I'm not going to bother to change it. If the pictures are no good, I'll send it back." It is such people who continually complain of "bad luck" with their films.

It was two or three years after the complete failure of my first expedition before the camera again exerted its spell, except that meanwhile it was faithfully recording various performances of the family, especially in the vacation season. It was in the autumn of 1898. The victorious American fleet had returned from Santiago and all the famous battleships and cruisers were triumphantly floating their ensigns in the breezes of New York Harbor. "Here is a rare opportunity. Come!" said the camera. Taking passage on a steamer, I found a quiet spot by the lifeboats, outside the rail, where the view would be unobstructed. We passed in succession all the vessels, from the doughty Texas, commanded by the lamented Captain Philip, to the proud Oregon, with the laurels of her long cruise around Cape Horn to join in the fight. One by one I photographed them all. Here, at last, I thought, are some pictures worth while. I had been in the habit of doing my own developing--with indifferent success, it must be confessed. These exposures, made under ideal conditions, were too precious to be risked, so I took the roll to a prominent firm of dealers in photographic goods, for developing and printing. Every one was spoiled! Not a good print could be found in the lot. Impure chemicals and careless handling had left yellow spots and finger-marks on every negative! Subsequent investigation revealed the fact that a negro janitor had been entrusted with the work. Here, then, was maxim number two for the amateur--_Do your own developing_, and be sure to master the details of the operation. The old adage, "If you want a thing well done, do it yourself," applies with peculiar force to photography.

Another experience, which happened soon after, came near ending forever all further attempts in photography. This time I lost, not only the negatives, but the camera itself. Having accomplished very little, I resolved to try no more. But a year or two later a friend offered to sell me his 4 x 5 plate camera, with tripod, focusing-cloth and all, at a ridiculously low price, and enough of the old fever remained to make me an easy--victim, shall I say? No! How can I ever thank him enough? I put my head under the focusing-cloth and for the first time looked at the inverted image of a beautiful landscape, reflected in all its colors upon the ground glass. At that moment began my real experience in photography. The hand camera is only a toy. A child can use it as well as an expert. It has its limitations like the stone walls of a prison yard, and beyond them one cannot go. All is guesswork. Luck is the biggest factor of success. Artistic work is practically impossible. It is not until you begin to compose your pictures on the ground glass that art in photography becomes a real thing. Then it is amazing to see how many variations of the same scene may be obtained, how many different effects of light and shade, and how much depends upon the point of view. Then, too, one becomes more independent of the weather, for by a proper use of the "stop" and careful application of the principles of correct exposure, it is possible to overcome many adverse conditions.

An acquaintance once expressed surprise that I was willing to spend day after day of my vacation walking about with a heavy camera case, full of plate-holders in one hand, and a bulky tripod slung over my shoulder. I replied that it was no heavier than a bagful of golf-sticks, that the walk took me through an endless variety of beautiful scenery, and that the game itself was fascinating. Of course, my friend could not appreciate my point of view, for he had never paused on the shore of some sparkling lake to study the ripple of the waters, the varying shades of green in the trees of the nearest bank, the pebbly beach with smooth flat stones whitening in the sun, but looking cooler and darker where seen through the transparent cover of the shallow water, the deep purple of the undulating hills in the distance, and above it all the canopy of filmy, foamy cumulus clouds, with flat bases and rounded outlines, and here and there a glimpse of the loveliest cerulean blue. He had never looked upon such scenes as these with the exhilarating thought that something of the marvelous beauty which nature daily spreads before us can be captured and taken home as a permanent reminder of what we have seen.

To catch the charm of such a scene is no child's play. It requires the use of the best of lenses and other appliances, skill derivable only from long study and experience, and a natural appreciation of the artistic point of view. It requires even more, for the plate must be developed and the prints made, both operations calling for skill and a sense of the artistic.

The underlying pleasure in nearly all sports and in many forms of recreation is the overcoming of obstacles. The football team must defeat a heavy opposing force to gain any sense of satisfaction. If the opponents are "easy," there is no fun in the game. The hunter who incurs no hardship complains that the sport is tame. A fisherman would rather land one big black bass after a long struggle than catch a hundred perch which almost jump into your boat without an invitation.