Leading the Blind Read Online Free

Until the traveller reaches Paris this will carry him through all parts of France, but not out of the country. He cannot depart until he has exchanged it for his original passport.’
    Supposing then that the traveller has more or less recovered from the crossing, he or she now has something more to worry about, for when the steamboat reaches port (Murray again) ‘the shore is usually beset by a crowd of clamorous agents for the different hotels, each vociferating the name and praises of that for which he is employed, stunning the distracted stranger with their cries, and nearly scratching his face with their proffered cards. The only mode of rescuing himself from these tormentors, who often beset him a dozen at a time, is to make up his mind beforehand to what hotel he will go, and to name it at once. The agent or Commissionaire of the house then steps forward, and the rest fall back, while he takes the new arrival under his protection, extricates him from the throng, and conducts him to his quarters.’
    Even this procedure was far from simple, because passengers were not allowed to take their baggage into town with them, it being conveyed at once ‘from the vessel to the Custom-house by the Custom-house porters, who are answerable for the safety of everything. The owner, instead of appearing himself to claim it, had better send his servant, or the Commissionaire of the inn, instructing him with the keys, in order that he may open and clear each package. This is his usual duty, and the landlord of the inn, who employs him, is answerable for his honesty. Personal attendance at a Custom-house is by no means calculated to put the traveller in a good humour. Indeed, it is a severe trial to his patience, first to wait till his turn comes, amidst the elbowing of porters, and next to look on while his well-packed trunk is tossed over with a cruel, hard-hearted sort of civility which leaves nothing to complain of, and everything to lament.’ (Murray.)
    Baedeker’s Paris 1874, says: ‘In order to prevent the risk of unpleasant detention at the custom-house travellers are strongly recommended to avoid carrying with them any articles that are not absolutely necessary. Cigars and tobacco are chiefly sought for by the custom-house officers. Six cigars and about an ounce of tobacco only are free of duty. Books and newspapers occasionally give rise to suspicion and may in certain cases be confiscated.’
    â€˜Indeed,’ Murray suggests, ‘the search into baggage is often more severe in the presence of the traveller, which seems sometimes to give rise to a suggestion of smuggling. He that would keep his temper, and does not grudge a fee of two francs to the Commissionaire, will intrust to him his keys, and, dismissing the care of his baggage from his thoughts, amuse himself for an hour or so, when he will probably find his effects conveyed to his chamber, very often not opened at all, generally only slightly examined.’
    Getting into Abroad threatened at times to become an obstacle race, though Murray endeavours to prevent the British traveller from turning it into an assault course. ‘Those who would travel with comfort should be particularly on their guard against rendering themselves liable to detection or penalty at the foreign Customhouses. They should avoid taking anything which is contraband, either for themselves or for their friends; for it too often happens that travellers on the continent are meanly solicited to take those things for their friends who are abroad which they dare not send by the public conveyance, thus rendering their travelling friends liable to penalty and punishment.’
    If after such Kafka-like turmoil our gentleman-traveller wishes to recuperate for a few days in the Calais area, before proceeding to Paris, there are several hotels to choose from. First on the list is the Hotel Dessin, said to be very good, one of whose rooms was slept in by the author of A