said to have been born.” He visited Balaklava in the Crimea and reported that the Charge of the Light Brigade had been “a terribly exaggerated affair, so far as massacre was concerned.”
When he returned to New York in July 1856, the Herald greeted him with sixteen full columns of his letters from abroad and James Gordon Bennett met him with the request that he run for Congress. But the wanderlust was, for the moment, more important to him than politics.
In 1856 he returned to Europe with his wife and infant daughter, taking up residence in Paris at the Grand-Hotel du Louvre, in the rue de Rivoli. He contracted to write a series of financial articles for Merchants’ Magazine and determined to become a linguist like the German businessmen he had met in the East. He already knew German. Now he hired a Catholic priest to tutor him in French and Italian. When he wasn’t studying he was trying to enter European society. He mingled with French counts, Spanish dukes, and tsarist princes, and felt what he learned from them “made up for the loss of a college career.” He was childishly happy to be invited to a formal ball given by Napoleon III in the Tuileries. There were four thousand guests, many waltzing to an orchestra led personally by Johann Strauss. Train was pleased to meet the Emperor’s current mistress and to speak to the Empress Eugénie in French.
He did not remain in Paris long. He went to Rome, where a fiery Italian delegation welcomed him as a liberator. He was certain they mistook him for Garibaldi, but it turned out that they knew who he was. Nevertheless, he wanted no part of their violence. “The curious thing about the affair,” he reflected later, “was that here, as everywhere, these people regarded me as a leader of revolts Carbonari, La Commune, Chartists, Fenians, Internationals as if I were ready for every species of deviltry. For fifteen years, five or six governments kept their spies shadowing me in Europe and America.”
In 1857 he went to Russia armed with a social message from a mutual friend to the Tsar’s younger brother, the Grand Duke Constantine. Train tracked the Grand Duke to his country residence in Strelna, near St. Petersburg. After that he was royally treated. He found Moscow the most impressive city he had ever seen. “There is something primitive and prehistoric about it. … I was astonished to find in the Kremlin a portrait of Napoleon at the battle of Borodino.”
But Train was more than a tourist. In every country he carefully made business contacts. It was after his return to Paris from Moscow that one of these contacts paid off handsomely. And soon Train was embroiled in the first of several financial jugglings that were to make him a millionaire.
He had met Queen Maria Cristina of Spain, one of the wealthiest women in the world. He had also met her financial adviser, Don Jose de Salamanca, the Spanish banking giant. Train swiftly made use of these acquaintances. He learned that when the United States had bought Florida from Spain, part of the purchase money had been deposited to the Queen’s credit in the Bank of the United States. After the bank was liquidated, the Queen’s cash assets were invested in forty thousand acres of Pennsylvania real estate, land rich in coal and iron ore.
It troubled Train that these forty thousand acres were lying unexplored. He had long had an idea that a rail link should be constructed between the Erie Railroad and the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, thus uniting the East and the Midwest. Now he saw that this link could be built across the Queen’s property in Pennsylvania, enriching her holdings a hundredfold. He approached her, and she was interested. It was all the encouragement Train required.
He darted in and out of Paris, London, New York, and Pennsylvania, trying to pull the deal together. He needed solid financing. He tried to see the Queen’s banker, Don Jose de Salamanca. He had no luck until he offered to lend him a
When he returned to New York in July 1856, the Herald greeted him with sixteen full columns of his letters from abroad and James Gordon Bennett met him with the request that he run for Congress. But the wanderlust was, for the moment, more important to him than politics.
In 1856 he returned to Europe with his wife and infant daughter, taking up residence in Paris at the Grand-Hotel du Louvre, in the rue de Rivoli. He contracted to write a series of financial articles for Merchants’ Magazine and determined to become a linguist like the German businessmen he had met in the East. He already knew German. Now he hired a Catholic priest to tutor him in French and Italian. When he wasn’t studying he was trying to enter European society. He mingled with French counts, Spanish dukes, and tsarist princes, and felt what he learned from them “made up for the loss of a college career.” He was childishly happy to be invited to a formal ball given by Napoleon III in the Tuileries. There were four thousand guests, many waltzing to an orchestra led personally by Johann Strauss. Train was pleased to meet the Emperor’s current mistress and to speak to the Empress Eugénie in French.
He did not remain in Paris long. He went to Rome, where a fiery Italian delegation welcomed him as a liberator. He was certain they mistook him for Garibaldi, but it turned out that they knew who he was. Nevertheless, he wanted no part of their violence. “The curious thing about the affair,” he reflected later, “was that here, as everywhere, these people regarded me as a leader of revolts Carbonari, La Commune, Chartists, Fenians, Internationals as if I were ready for every species of deviltry. For fifteen years, five or six governments kept their spies shadowing me in Europe and America.”
In 1857 he went to Russia armed with a social message from a mutual friend to the Tsar’s younger brother, the Grand Duke Constantine. Train tracked the Grand Duke to his country residence in Strelna, near St. Petersburg. After that he was royally treated. He found Moscow the most impressive city he had ever seen. “There is something primitive and prehistoric about it. … I was astonished to find in the Kremlin a portrait of Napoleon at the battle of Borodino.”
But Train was more than a tourist. In every country he carefully made business contacts. It was after his return to Paris from Moscow that one of these contacts paid off handsomely. And soon Train was embroiled in the first of several financial jugglings that were to make him a millionaire.
He had met Queen Maria Cristina of Spain, one of the wealthiest women in the world. He had also met her financial adviser, Don Jose de Salamanca, the Spanish banking giant. Train swiftly made use of these acquaintances. He learned that when the United States had bought Florida from Spain, part of the purchase money had been deposited to the Queen’s credit in the Bank of the United States. After the bank was liquidated, the Queen’s cash assets were invested in forty thousand acres of Pennsylvania real estate, land rich in coal and iron ore.
It troubled Train that these forty thousand acres were lying unexplored. He had long had an idea that a rail link should be constructed between the Erie Railroad and the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, thus uniting the East and the Midwest. Now he saw that this link could be built across the Queen’s property in Pennsylvania, enriching her holdings a hundredfold. He approached her, and she was interested. It was all the encouragement Train required.
He darted in and out of Paris, London, New York, and Pennsylvania, trying to pull the deal together. He needed solid financing. He tried to see the Queen’s banker, Don Jose de Salamanca. He had no luck until he offered to lend him a
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