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Titel | Title: Robert Watt, the Danish feuilletonist : ("New illustrated weekly paper" Copenhagen) March 1874.
Udgivet år og sted | Publication time and place: [Cph.], [1874]
Fysiske størrelse | Physical extent: 15 s.
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JloOert Watt,
The Danish Feuilletonist.
[»New Illustrated Weekly Paper« Copenhagen.]
March. 1 S74.
I.
J u l i a n S c h m i d t o n c e c a i l e d P o u l H e y s e » a p o e t i c a l tourist«. He means an author who wanders amongst his people with a flexible, harmonious mind, listens to them, but is himself the speaker instead of letting them talk. We enquire not whether the expression suits here;
but it can be used to create a new term, characteristic of R o b e r t W a t t s talent — we would call him »the feuilletonistic tourist«.
If we were hurriedly to sketch most of our Danish writing tourists we might say: they always travel »first class«, if not actually (money considerations and general habits often leading them into second class smoking carriages), still figuratively. Occasionally they may enter a »third« or »fourth class«, in order to interview after the usual tourist fashion the remarkable object called
»the people«, and as »what is seen depends upon the eyes that see« they naturally discover a great many traits of popular peculiarities, which mostly exist only in their own imaginations. Arrived at a town or hotel, they follow most conscientiously the lead of a Baedecker
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or Murray, exhaust themselves over Museums, Monu
ments , or public establishments of every description, and never tire of writing notes of admiration and strong adjectives on each fine work of art. They mav even feel it a duty to give vent to their enthusiasm in a long or short lvrical poem. As a matter of course they also mix among all classes; from a box at the Opera or through a field-glass from afar, they stare at nature's oddities and make notes of cancan-dancers, boxers, bul!
fighters or mere eaters and drinkers. Their speciality is however to hunt up natural beauties, and they are happiest when filling a score of pages with descriptions of the indescribable. After reading such like books of travel one receives a strongly biassed and stilted idea of what the author has thought and felt, remaining delightfully ignorant of the circumstances and people amongst whom he has moved. Every time the writer descends from his lyrical heights and really enters upon relation, we read with nervous dread least there corae
»a slip« betraying that either the thing as it is has not been seen, or has been gazed at through colored spectacles.
If we wish a picture of R o b e r t W a t t as tourist, we have only to turn round all that has been said above. He does not shun what is real. When writing he does not stand in front of a mirror, to see how it suits him. What he is anxious to show us, is not what he has thought and felt, but what the persons he meets feel and think, and what were the particulars and experiences of the place in question. Sometimes he
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falls into the usual geograpliical - descriptive tone, but even then he keeps as a rule the quick, »warm« way of telling his tale. We read his books with the same pleasure, as we listen to some elever man in a lively company giving information about things we are anxious to know. If Watt had been born in a larger country, where people were more disposed to consider everything human as of interest to themselves, or if when beginning his career he had been led by those who had more respect for what was primitive and personal, than for the educated »direct writing« , we can scarcely doubt that some blots which it is now easy to point out in his pages would have been avoided. His happy dispo
sition as a traveller would then have developed in hiin a style less voluminous perhaps, but with a clearer aim and more original.
The success of W a t t ' s first shetches (»From A u s t r a l i a « 1862) must chiefly be attributed to their contents. For a scientific author, or for one who pre- supposes a certain amount of knowledge in order to be understood, it is a necessary stipulation that the matter be known beforehand; but for a poet (as for example B r e t H a r t e ) or a tourist whom every one mav follow easily, nothing can be luckier than if he can place be
fore us people, circuinstances or regions of-which the public hitherto had few or but false ideas. In his pre- face to the above the author says: »Amongst the Bush- men in Australia a good many things can be seen and heard never dreamt of in polite society«, and that »it is to this faet he owes the favorable verdict given to
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his sketchés«. No decided talent is seen in this first attempt. The author has not had the self-possession and coolness necessary for saying his say easily; he seems afraid of giving himself up to his personal feel- ings, of grouping his own experiences round his own
person; or else — and this is as likely — there have been »counsellors« to »file« the style and give the whole a »correct« appearance^ who have succeeded in filing all the freshness and smartness off, so that the whole runs in humdrum evenness. A few casual remarks and sallies, liere and there, suiting the rest like bells on a barrow, point in the latter direction. But already here we remark that our author does not belong to the »first elass« tourist, as it is quickly seen that neither in actual life nor in his sketches does he stand far away from reality. Scattered up and down we find remarks which denote that W a t t has moved in the most oppo- site circles, these have all brought hini into direct com- munication with the refined and the poor. We see that he has been a welcome guest amongst creatures we call »wild«, yea he does not even hide that at one time in a business way he continually received assistance from »a goodnatured old fellow« transported for — manslaughter. This is a better way of tinding some- thing »positive« to say about »the people« than travel
ling for an hour in a railway carriage. Yet in this volume the »faet« reduces itself to Bradley's delightful oath »by Jesus Christ and General Jackson, for they are about the best men in the States«, and to the no less .characteristic tale about »the Baron« who sells
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unusually large, boiled eggs to be further hatched by the help of a laying hen!
Only with »In t h e V e r a n d a « (1864) and the skeitches which followed this from Australia, Europe and America, did W a t t find his true level. In the regulation of his snbject as well as in the handling of the language he has certainly made progress later, but as far as the principal tendency of his aut.horship goes, he here shows himself what he has since continued to be. With »In the Veranda« Watt becomes feuilletonist or, as we would like to say, »feuilletonistic tourist«.
He has now detected that even if you cannot always find anything to say that »society« has not dreamt of, still it is something to write so that others enjoy read- ing. What he has experienced himself he dåres to speak of as a persona! experience. He dots down such s m a l l a d v e n t u r e s a s » A r a c e d a y i n M e l b o u r n e « ,
»The old Doctor«, »A t r i c k of Fate« etc. These, without claiming to be either essays in the history of civilization or novels, yet give striking contributions towards making out the aspects of foreign countries, and are at the same time light and agreeable reading.
What J u l i a n S c h m i d t brings forward as special for the tourist, — that he speaks himself instead of letting his characters speak — is noticed very strongly in Robert Watt. But with him it is throughout more a question of showing what is said than how it is said. He makes it less his task to paint the people, than the circumstances in which they live, the state into which they have fallen, whether by force of events or of their own accord.
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Having thus tried to draw the outlines of the image, we must give a few finishing touches. What everybody sees in travelling, W a t t has also seen. He has climb- ed the hills for »best views« , has roamed through miles of galleries, has »done« the piaces. Besides he has been where others never go, even if they stay ever so long in a town or neighborhood, and when he goes he does so very differently from other orthodox peri- patetics. »Sharp is the word, or everything escapes you and you stand emptyhanded in this go-a-head land«
— so much he learnt in Australia. He brought home the knowledge too, which is difficult of acquisition for most writers, neither to be afraid of your skin nor to think yourself above drinking a glass and having a chat with people in their shirtsleeves, poor wretches not only coatless but trowserless. Watt's quickness, energy and courage to see and try everything makes him, as has been truly said, a »reporter« who would have been appreciated abroad at a high figure. This faet makes him give us unvarnished accounts from com- munities, of which other travellers seem not to suspect the existance or give us a highly colored birdseye view.
It would be dangerous to say that no better guide through a picturegallery can be procured; and altho' Watt sometimes faithfully and with geographical truth works his way through that Herculean labor: a descrip- tion of a beautiful landscape, yet here also we own without fear of contradiction, that others have greater powers of awakening our emotions. But if it be a ques- tion of motley street-scenes, or a detailed account of
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purlieus where you may expect a black eye, Watt stands alone amongst Danish authors in his powers of painting these checkered pictures of low-life. Hairbreath es- capes with Police officers in plain clothes, rovings by niglit and day, fires, races; — and then mortals: artists of every school and grade, emigrants, sectaries, in short, all that the everyday »decent« traveller never mixes with, even if they would like to make their ac- quaintance — all tliis Watt understands and tells without circumlocution or drapery, trustworthily and heartily.
"Travelling« it may be said is easy enough if in- dolence does not hinder, and to »narrate« our experien- ces can't be very difficult. To cotnmence with the last objection, nothing can be more fallacious. Except in poetical, strictly scientific or art tourists, it will be tound that out ot a hundred hooks of travels ninety nine contain nothing, and the others next to nothing.
A young man lately returned from Rome was asked to sketch his journey: »Oh, it was beautiful,. im- mense pillars and arches, only think, all marble, and then wild roses, only imagine, wild roses in full bloom in February«. That was all he could tell, — the rest you might see in Murray. No, the truth is, that most travellers see nothing or only what the guide shows t h e m . T h o s e w h o s a y t h e y c o u l d w r i t e l i k e R o b e r t W a t t , are just those who could go round the worid without knowing more of »life« on their return than they did before leaving their armchair. These are the beings who would leel a cold coming on at the mere mention
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of being drenched by a jet of water at a conflagration;
and who shudder at the idea that at such and such a
»flash saloon«, which »by Jove it would be a joke to see«, there rnight be a chance of a drubbing. Naturally everyone may — if he can afford it — snp with one or more »Bohemians« have a look at a boxingmatch and drain a flask with a gold digger; bnt what few in black coat and chimney-pot-hat can, is to get these people to feel at ease in their presence and »wøg their tongues«. Then again few understand seeing and hear- ing all with tolerance, goodnature and intelligence, enabling tliem afterwards to give us the benefit of their exploits in a clear and true style.
To travel as Watt has done is an art, and demands special parts. These can be placed high or low as our taste dictates. One thing is sure, if such people did not exist, many stirring events would be unknown to the world at large. The life Watt led in Australia has strengthened all his peculiarities, which enables him when journeying to scan things with other eyes than most men. Scores go away from home for short or long periods in every possible position, without be- coming feuilletonists, and all We have endeavored to say shows personal qualities and a certain talent which we have tried to explain.
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II.
To what has been said, we must now join a few short biographical facts.
R o b e r t W a t t w a s b o r n o n t h e 2 8 t h o f O c t o b e r 1837 at Holmstrupgaard, one mile from Aarhus in Jut- land. His Grandfather, A l e x a n d e r W a t t , came from Scotland and founded a large business house in Copen
hagen. It may be the Anglo-Saxon blood in their veins which has given so many of the men of this family, such a craving for an adventurous wandering life. One of Watt's Uncles died at the Cape; another closed a career of many ups and downs — amongst other things he was also secretary to a Rajah in the East Indies — in the colony of Victoria [Australia]; a third ended his days in New South Wales.
R o b e r t w a s d e s t i n e d b y h i s F a t h e r f o r t h e s e a , and during his childhood was constantly told what a pleasant life a Naval Officer led. In reality he has ploughed the mighty deep to some purpose, tho' not in the capacity of a bona fide sailor. Before his tenth
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year his Father deceased, and a few years later he also lost his Mother. His Grandmother on the Mother's side took charge of the children. He went to the Aarhus Ilighschool, and was one of the three first who passed the examination iately ordered by Government. When asked what he was going to be, Kobert always replied:
»I am going to be an actor when I am grown up, until t h e n I d o n ' t m i n d w h a t y o u m a k e o f m e « .
When about twenty he really had entered into ar
rangements with a travelling Company, and was to make his first attempt in Viborg, January 1858. About the same time however, it so chanced that an offer was made him of going as passenger to Australia by the good ship the »Mermaid « , belonging to the firm of Jacob Holm and Co. As soon as the idea of a voyage and its many delightful and novel adventures entered his head, every other thought was cast to the winds, and he made up his mind for the Gold-country.
October 25, 1857, he set sail from the harbor of Copenhagen, spending his twentieth birthday in a storm in the Northsea, landing after nearly five months voyage in »happy Australia«, as it was then cailed. He did not return home until 1861, having meanwhile seen
»life« in every possible phase. However adventurous a spirit young men may have, this should have been enough to satisfy the most covetous. To pick up a living and learn the language quickly, he very soon left Melbourne for the interior, and began his career by taking charge of a child. Shortly afterwards he figured as groom, as roadmaker, cattle drover on the immense plains, assist-
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a n t a u c t i o n e e r , g o l d d i g g e r , c h a n d l e r , g r a v e d i g g e r , surveyor, fodder-seller, civil engineer, private secretary and cashier to a large speculator, bullock- driver, cook, book-keeper etc. ending his many functions by becoraing conductor and later driver on a stage-coach — a situa
tion far more rich not only in difficulties and dangers but in interest, than a similar position in the old world.
For more than a year, in this last capacity, he tra
v e l i e d e v e r y n i g h t , ( t h e n i g h t b e t w e e n S u n d a y a n d M o n - day excepted) over one hundred miles of unbeaten tracks, and over impracticable fords, battling with all sorts of perils.
Once more in Copenhagen, his old love for the stage returned, and he prepared to appear on the boards of the Royal Theatre, but again fate came be
tween him and his acting. The Editor of the Danish
»Illustrated News« had persuaded him to give an account of his Australian experiences, and this he had done under the pseudonym »Bob«. As they were very suc- cessful, he entered with life and soul upon a literary vocation. All his sketches were brought out in two b o o k s , » F r o m A u s t r a l i a « , a n d » I n t h e V e r a n d a « . He translated several English works, wrote for many of the Newspapers, and in 1863—64 went on his travels once more, this time in the old world. During five months he wandered through the greater part of Eu- rope, at last resting for seven months in Paris. Whilst there he was correspondent of the »Dagblad« , and on his return he published » P a r i s i a n p h o t o g r a p h s « and
» T h r o u g h E u r o p e « .
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He worked steadily for the press, founded the
» F i g a r o « , p u b l i s h e d h i s b i g g e s t b o o k » C o p e n h a g e n , M e l b o u r n e , P a r i s « . In 1867 he started for St. Pe
t e r s b u r g a n d M o s c o w , d e s c r i b i n g t h e s e i n h i s » L e t t e r s from R u s s i a«. This year too he went twice to Paris to study the Exhibition. In 1869 he sends letters from Stockholm, and later on turns up as one of the Khe- dive's guests at the opening of the Suez Canal. His book »From t h e l a n d of t h e P h a r a o s « , the fruits of this journey, has been translated into German and praised by German critics.
Meanwhile after an existence of two years and a h a l f , t h e w e e k l y » F i g a r o « b e c a m e t h e » D a i l y N e w s « . The Editorship of this paper he has just resigned, after working at it for five years, wishing to give himself en- tirely to literature. In August 1871 he left home once more, to cross the Atlantic. During six montlis he visited the Saltlake-city, pressed forward to Dakota, witnessed the terrible fire at Chicago, enjoyed the fresh breezes on the banks of lake Superior, was one of the busy crowd in the Broadway and made a great many interesting acquaintances. This journey he has set forth in »Beyond t h e A t l a n t i c « , the third volume of which has lately left the press.
Besides these volumes R o b e r t W a t t has printed several others, ainong which we must specially mention
»My Album«, narratives of real life. He has intro- duced to the notice of his countrymen the American poets E d g a r A l l a n P o e and B r e t H a r t e , and is n o w e n g a g e d o n a v e r s i o n o f t h e H u m o r i s t M a r k T w a i n ,
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besides which he is going to translate a selection of Thackeray's works. All this labor goes on between the interruptions of long journeys and constant presswork.
Since 1857 W a t t has traversed a distance of 100,000 miles. He has been in A s i a — if only for a few minutes — A u s t r a l i a , A f r i c a , America and the greater part of E u r o p e , and has crossed the Thames, the Seine, the Volga, the Neva, the Rhine, the Danube, the Elbe, the Rhone, the Nile, the Missisippi, the Missouri, the St. Lawrence and many other famous rivers.
Thus he has, naturally enough, seen and heard more than most people, and in his note-books and memory has accumulated a costly store of anecdotes, natural scenes and pictures of life. His friends and acquain- tances have often had occasion to enjoy his lively and sparkling descriptions. But the reception accorded to his books also shows, that a large circle follows him with interest when he is far from his audience, and in- stead of his voice wields his gifted pen.
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P r i n t e d by L o u i s K l e i n .
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