diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:12 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:12 -0700 |
| commit | 5ed9fd1673f93cc3f0a1946edf6d30585608dbc6 (patch) | |
| tree | 90e38f12a97dfc398f922b83ad5b332d36b865f4 /old/nvoyg10h.htm | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old/nvoyg10h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/nvoyg10h.htm | 3999 |
1 files changed, 3999 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/nvoyg10h.htm b/old/nvoyg10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..64ff1ce --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nvoyg10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3999 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>An Inland Voyage</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">An Inland Voyage, by Robert Louis Stevenson</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Inland Voyage, by Robert Louis Stevenson +(#23 in our series by Robert Louis Stevenson) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: An Inland Voyage + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +Release Date: May, 1996 [EBook #534] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 19, 1996] +[Most recently updated: August 27, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from 1904 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk Second proof by Margaret Price<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +AN INLAND VOYAGE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Contents:<br> + Preface<br> + Antwerp to Boom<br> + On the Willebroek Canal<br> + The Royal Sport Nautique<br> + At Maubeuge<br> + On the Sambre Canalised: to Quartes<br> + Pont-sur-Sambre:<br> + We are Pedlars<br> + The Travelling Merchant<br> + On the Sambre Canalised: to Landrecies<br> + At Landrecies<br> + Sambre and Oise Canal: Canal boats<br> + The Oise in Flood<br> + Origny Sainte-Benoîte<br> + A By-day<br> + The Company at Table<br> + Down the Oise: to Moy<br> + La Fère of Cursed Memory<br> + Down the Oise: Through the Golden Valley<br> + Noyon Cathedral<br> + Down the Oise: to Compiègne<br> + At Compiègne<br> + Changed Times<br> + Down the Oise: Church interiors<br> + Précy and the Marionnettes<br> + Back to the world<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +To equip so small a book with a preface is, I am half afraid, to sin +against proportion. But a preface is more than an author can resist, +for it is the reward of his labours. When the foundation stone +is laid, the architect appears with his plans, and struts for an hour +before the public eye. So with the writer in his preface: he may +have never a word to say, but he must show himself for a moment in the +portico, hat in hand, and with an urbane demeanour.<br> +<br> +It is best, in such circumstances, to represent a delicate shade of +manner between humility and superiority: as if the book had been written +by some one else, and you had merely run over it and inserted what was +good. But for my part I have not yet learned the trick to that +perfection; I am not yet able to dissemble the warmth of my sentiments +towards a reader; and if I meet him on the threshold, it is to invite +him in with country cordiality.<br> +<br> +To say truth, I had no sooner finished reading this little book in proof, +than I was seized upon by a distressing apprehension. It occurred +to me that I might not only be the first to read these pages, but the +last as well; that I might have pioneered this very smiling tract of +country all in vain, and find not a soul to follow in my steps. +The more I thought, the more I disliked the notion; until the distaste +grew into a sort of panic terror, and I rushed into this Preface, which +is no more than an advertisement for readers.<br> +<br> +What am I to say for my book? Caleb and Joshua brought back from +Palestine a formidable bunch of grapes; alas! my book produces naught +so nourishing; and for the matter of that, we live in an age when people +prefer a definition to any quantity of fruit.<br> +<br> +I wonder, would a negative be found enticing? for, from the negative +point of view, I flatter myself this volume has a certain stamp. +Although it runs to considerably upwards of two hundred pages, it contains +not a single reference to the imbecility of God’s universe, nor +so much as a single hint that I could have made a better one myself. +- I really do not know where my head can have been. I seem to +have forgotten all that makes it glorious to be man. - ’Tis an +omission that renders the book philosophically unimportant; but I am +in hopes the eccentricity may please in frivolous circles.<br> +<br> +To the friend who accompanied me I owe many thanks already, indeed I +wish I owed him nothing else; but at this moment I feel towards him +an almost exaggerated tenderness. He, at least, will become my +reader: - if it were only to follow his own travels alongside of mine.<br> +<br> +R.L.S.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ANTWERP TO BOOM<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +We made a great stir in Antwerp Docks. A stevedore and a lot of +dock porters took up the two canoes, and ran with them for the slip. +A crowd of children followed cheering. The <i>Cigarette</i> went +off in a splash and a bubble of small breaking water. Next moment +the <i>Arethusa</i> was after her. A steamer was coming down, +men on the paddle-box shouted hoarse warnings, the stevedore and his +porters were bawling from the quay. But in a stroke or two the +canoes were away out in the middle of the Scheldt, and all steamers, +and stevedores, and other ‘long-shore vanities were left behind.<br> +<br> +The sun shone brightly; the tide was making - four jolly miles an hour; +the wind blew steadily, with occasional squalls. For my part, +I had never been in a canoe under sail in my life; and my first experiment +out in the middle of this big river was not made without some trepidation. +What would happen when the wind first caught my little canvas? +I suppose it was almost as trying a venture into the regions of the +unknown as to publish a first book, or to marry. But my doubts +were not of long duration; and in five minutes you will not be surprised +to learn that I had tied my sheet.<br> +<br> +I own I was a little struck by this circumstance myself; of course, +in company with the rest of my fellow-men, I had always tied the sheet +in a sailing-boat; but in so little and crank a concern as a canoe, +and with these charging squalls, I was not prepared to find myself follow +the same principle; and it inspired me with some contemptuous views +of our regard for life. It is certainly easier to smoke with the +sheet fastened; but I had never before weighed a comfortable pipe of +tobacco against an obvious risk, and gravely elected for the comfortable +pipe. It is a commonplace, that we cannot answer for ourselves +before we have been tried. But it is not so common a reflection, +and surely more consoling, that we usually find ourselves a great deal +braver and better than we thought. I believe this is every one’s +experience: but an apprehension that they may belie themselves in the +future prevents mankind from trumpeting this cheerful sentiment abroad. +I wish sincerely, for it would have saved me much trouble, there had +been some one to put me in a good heart about life when I was younger; +to tell me how dangers are most portentous on a distant sight; and how +the good in a man’s spirit will not suffer itself to be overlaid, +and rarely or never deserts him in the hour of need. But we are +all for tootling on the sentimental flute in literature; and not a man +among us will go to the head of the march to sound the heady drums.<br> +<br> +It was agreeable upon the river. A barge or two went past laden +with hay. Reeds and willows bordered the stream; and cattle and +grey venerable horses came and hung their mild heads over the embankment. +Here and there was a pleasant village among trees, with a noisy shipping-yard; +here and there a villa in a lawn. The wind served us well up the +Scheldt and thereafter up the Rupel; and we were running pretty free +when we began to sight the brickyards of Boom, lying for a long way +on the right bank of the river. The left bank was still green +and pastoral, with alleys of trees along the embankment, and here and +there a flight of steps to serve a ferry, where perhaps there sat a +woman with her elbows on her knees, or an old gentleman with a staff +and silver spectacles. But Boom and its brickyards grew smokier +and shabbier with every minute; until a great church with a clock, and +a wooden bridge over the river, indicated the central quarters of the +town.<br> +<br> +Boom is not a nice place, and is only remarkable for one thing: that +the majority of the inhabitants have a private opinion that they can +speak English, which is not justified by fact. This gave a kind +of haziness to our intercourse. As for the Hôtel de la Navigation, +I think it is the worst feature of the place. It boasts of a sanded +parlour, with a bar at one end, looking on the street; and another sanded +parlour, darker and colder, with an empty bird-cage and a tricolour +subscription box by way of sole adornment, where we made shift to dine +in the company of three uncommunicative engineer apprentices and a silent +bagman. The food, as usual in Belgium, was of a nondescript occasional +character; indeed I have never been able to detect anything in the nature +of a meal among this pleasing people; they seem to peck and trifle with +viands all day long in an amateur spirit: tentatively French, truly +German, and somehow falling between the two.<br> +<br> +The empty bird-cage, swept and garnished, and with no trace of the old +piping favourite, save where two wires had been pushed apart to hold +its lump of sugar, carried with it a sort of graveyard cheer. +The engineer apprentices would have nothing to say to us, nor indeed +to the bagman; but talked low and sparingly to one another, or raked +us in the gaslight with a gleam of spectacles. For though handsome +lads, they were all (in the Scots phrase) barnacled.<br> +<br> +There was an English maid in the hotel, who had been long enough out +of England to pick up all sorts of funny foreign idioms, and all sorts +of curious foreign ways, which need not here be specified. She +spoke to us very fluently in her jargon, asked us information as to +the manners of the present day in England, and obligingly corrected +us when we attempted to answer. But as we were dealing with a +woman, perhaps our information was not so much thrown away as it appeared. +The sex likes to pick up knowledge and yet preserve its superiority. +It is good policy, and almost necessary in the circumstances. +If a man finds a woman admire him, were it only for his acquaintance +with geography, he will begin at once to build upon the admiration. +It is only by unintermittent snubbing that the pretty ones can keep +us in our place. Men, as Miss Howe or Miss Harlowe would have +said, ‘are such <i>encroachers</i>.’ For my part, +I am body and soul with the women; and after a well-married couple, +there is nothing so beautiful in the world as the myth of the divine +huntress. It is no use for a man to take to the woods; we know +him; St. Anthony tried the same thing long ago, and had a pitiful time +of it by all accounts. But there is this about some women, which +overtops the best gymnosophist among men, that they suffice to themselves, +and can walk in a high and cold zone without the countenance of any +trousered being. I declare, although the reverse of a professed +ascetic, I am more obliged to women for this ideal than I should be +to the majority of them, or indeed to any but one, for a spontaneous +kiss. There is nothing so encouraging as the spectacle of self-sufficiency. +And when I think of the slim and lovely maidens, running the woods all +night to the note of Diana’s horn; moving among the old oaks, +as fancy-free as they; things of the forest and the starlight, not touched +by the commotion of man’s hot and turbid life - although there +are plenty other ideals that I should prefer - I find my heart beat +at the thought of this one. ’Tis to fail in life, but to +fail with what a grace! That is not lost which is not regretted. +And where - here slips out the male - where would be much of the glory +of inspiring love, if there were no contempt to overcome?<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ON THE WILLEBROEK CANAL<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Next morning, when we set forth on the Willebroek Canal, the rain began +heavy and chill. The water of the canal stood at about the drinking +temperature of tea; and under this cold aspersion, the surface was covered +with steam. The exhilaration of departure, and the easy motion +of the boats under each stroke of the paddles, supported us through +this misfortune while it lasted; and when the cloud passed and the sun +came out again, our spirits went up above the range of stay-at-home +humours. A good breeze rustled and shivered in the rows of trees +that bordered the canal. The leaves flickered in and out of the +light in tumultuous masses. It seemed sailing weather to eye and +ear; but down between the banks, the wind reached us only in faint and +desultory puffs. There was hardly enough to steer by. Progress +was intermittent and unsatisfactory. A jocular person, of marine +antecedents, hailed us from the tow-path with a ‘<i>C’est +vite, mais c’est long</i>.’<br> +<br> +The canal was busy enough. Every now and then we met or overtook +a long string of boats, with great green tillers; high sterns with a +window on either side of the rudder, and perhaps a jug or a flower-pot +in one of the windows; a dinghy following behind; a woman busied about +the day’s dinner, and a handful of children. These barges +were all tied one behind the other with tow ropes, to the number of +twenty-five or thirty; and the line was headed and kept in motion by +a steamer of strange construction. It had neither paddle-wheel +nor screw; but by some gear not rightly comprehensible to the unmechanical +mind, it fetched up over its bow a small bright chain which lay along +the bottom of the canal, and paying it out again over the stern, dragged +itself forward, link by link, with its whole retinue of loaded skows. +Until one had found out the key to the enigma, there was something solemn +and uncomfortable in the progress of one of these trains, as it moved +gently along the water with nothing to mark its advance but an eddy +alongside dying away into the wake.<br> +<br> +Of all the creatures of commercial enterprise, a canal barge is by far +the most delightful to consider. It may spread its sails, and +then you see it sailing high above the tree-tops and the windmill, sailing +on the aqueduct, sailing through the green corn-lands: the most picturesque +of things amphibious. Or the horse plods along at a foot-pace +as if there were no such thing as business in the world; and the man +dreaming at the tiller sees the same spire on the horizon all day long. +It is a mystery how things ever get to their destination at this rate; +and to see the barges waiting their turn at a lock, affords a fine lesson +of how easily the world may be taken. There should be many contented +spirits on board, for such a life is both to travel and to stay at home.<br> +<br> +The chimney smokes for dinner as you go along; the banks of the canal +slowly unroll their scenery to contemplative eyes; the barge floats +by great forests and through great cities with their public buildings +and their lamps at night; and for the bargee, in his floating home, +‘travelling abed,’ it is merely as if he were listening +to another man’s story or turning the leaves of a picture-book +in which he had no concern. He may take his afternoon walk in +some foreign country on the banks of the canal, and then come home to +dinner at his own fireside.<br> +<br> +There is not enough exercise in such a life for any high measure of +health; but a high measure of health is only necessary for unhealthy +people. The slug of a fellow, who is never ill nor well, has a +quiet time of it in life, and dies all the easier.<br> +<br> +I am sure I would rather be a bargee than occupy any position under +heaven that required attendance at an office. There are few callings, +I should say, where a man gives up less of his liberty in return for +regular meals. The bargee is on shipboard - he is master in his +own ship - he can land whenever he will - he can never be kept beating +off a lee-shore a whole frosty night when the sheets are as hard as +iron; and so far as I can make out, time stands as nearly still with +him as is compatible with the return of bed-time or the dinner-hour. +It is not easy to see why a bargee should ever die.<br> +<br> +Half-way between Willebroek and Villevorde, in a beautiful reach of +canal like a squire’s avenue, we went ashore to lunch. There +were two eggs, a junk of bread, and a bottle of wine on board the <i>Arethusa</i>; +and two eggs and an Etna cooking apparatus on board the <i>Cigarette</i>. +The master of the latter boat smashed one of the eggs in the course +of disembarkation; but observing pleasantly that it might still be cooked +<i>à la papier</i>, he dropped it into the Etna, in its covering +of Flemish newspaper. We landed in a blink of fine weather; but +we had not been two minutes ashore before the wind freshened into half +a gale, and the rain began to patter on our shoulders. We sat +as close about the Etna as we could. The spirits burned with great +ostentation; the grass caught flame every minute or two, and had to +be trodden out; and before long, there were several burnt fingers of +the party. But the solid quantity of cookery accomplished was +out of proportion with so much display; and when we desisted, after +two applications of the fire, the sound egg was little more than loo-warm; +and as for <i>à la papier</i>, it was a cold and sordid<i> fricassée</i> +of printer’s ink and broken egg-shell. We made shift to +roast the other two, by putting them close to the burning spirits; and +that with better success. And then we uncorked the bottle of wine, +and sat down in a ditch with our canoe aprons over our knees. +It rained smartly. Discomfort, when it is honestly uncomfortable +and makes no nauseous pretensions to the contrary, is a vastly humorous +business; and people well steeped and stupefied in the open air are +in a good vein for laughter. From this point of view, even egg +<i>à la papier</i> offered by way of food may pass muster as +a sort of accessory to the fun. But this manner of jest, although +it may be taken in good part, does not invite repetition; and from that +time forward, the Etna voyaged like a gentleman in the locker of the +<i>Cigarette.<br> +<br> +</i>It is almost unnecessary to mention that when lunch was over and +we got aboard again and made sail, the wind promptly died away. +The rest of the journey to Villevorde, we still spread our canvas to +the unfavouring air; and with now and then a puff, and now and then +a spell of paddling, drifted along from lock to lock, between the orderly +trees.<br> +<br> +It was a fine, green, fat landscape; or rather a mere green water-lane, +going on from village to village. Things had a settled look, as +in places long lived in. Crop-headed children spat upon us from +the bridges as we went below, with a true conservative feeling. +But even more conservative were the fishermen, intent upon their floats, +who let us go by without one glance. They perched upon sterlings +and buttresses and along the slope of the embankment, gently occupied. +They were indifferent, like pieces of dead nature. They did not +move any more than if they had been fishing in an old Dutch print. +The leaves fluttered, the water lapped, but they continued in one stay +like so many churches established by law. You might have trepanned +every one of their innocent heads, and found no more than so much coiled +fishing-line below their skulls. I do not care for your stalwart +fellows in india-rubber stockings breasting up mountain torrents with +a salmon rod; but I do dearly love the class of man who plies his unfruitful +art, for ever and a day, by still and depopulated waters.<br> +<br> +At the last lock, just beyond Villevorde, there was a lock-mistress +who spoke French comprehensibly, and told us we were still a couple +of leagues from Brussels. At the same place, the rain began again. +It fell in straight, parallel lines; and the surface of the canal was +thrown up into an infinity of little crystal fountains. There +were no beds to be had in the neighbourhood. Nothing for it but +to lay the sails aside and address ourselves to steady paddling in the +rain.<br> +<br> +Beautiful country houses, with clocks and long lines of shuttered windows, +and fine old trees standing in groves and avenues, gave a rich and sombre +aspect in the rain and the deepening dusk to the shores of the canal. +I seem to have seen something of the same effect in engravings: opulent +landscapes, deserted and overhung with the passage of storm. And +throughout we had the escort of a hooded cart, which trotted shabbily +along the tow-path, and kept at an almost uniform distance in our wake.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE ROYAL SPORT NAUTIQUE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The rain took off near Laeken. But the sun was already down; the +air was chill; and we had scarcely a dry stitch between the pair of +us. Nay, now we found ourselves near the end of the Allée +Verte, and on the very threshold of Brussels, we were confronted by +a serious difficulty. The shores were closely lined by canal boats +waiting their turn at the lock. Nowhere was there any convenient +landing-place; nowhere so much as a stable-yard to leave the canoes +in for the night. We scrambled ashore and entered an <i>estaminet</i> +where some sorry fellows were drinking with the landlord. The +landlord was pretty round with us; he knew of no coach-house or stable-yard, +nothing of the sort; and seeing we had come with no mind to drink, he +did not conceal his impatience to be rid of us. One of the sorry +fellows came to the rescue. Somewhere in the corner of the basin +there was a slip, he informed us, and something else besides, not very +clearly defined by him, but hopefully construed by his hearers.<br> +<br> +Sure enough there was the slip in the corner of the basin; and at the +top of it two nice-looking lads in boating clothes. The <i>Arethusa</i> +addressed himself to these. One of them said there would be no +difficulty about a night’s lodging for our boats; and the other, +taking a cigarette from his lips, inquired if they were made by Searle +and Son. The name was quite an introduction. Half-a-dozen +other young men came out of a boat-house bearing the superscription +ROYAL SPORT NAUTIQUE, and joined in the talk. They were all very +polite, voluble, and enthusiastic; and their discourse was interlarded +with English boating terms, and the names of English boat-builders and +English clubs. I do not know, to my shame, any spot in my native +land where I should have been so warmly received by the same number +of people. We were English boating-men, and the Belgian boating-men +fell upon our necks. I wonder if French Huguenots were as cordially +greeted by English Protestants when they came across the Channel out +of great tribulation. But after all, what religion knits people +so closely as a common sport?<br> +<br> +The canoes were carried into the boat-house; they were washed down for +us by the Club servants, the sails were hung out to dry, and everything +made as snug and tidy as a picture. And in the meanwhile we were +led upstairs by our new-found brethren, for so more than one of them +stated the relationship, and made free of their lavatory. This +one lent us soap, that one a towel, a third and fourth helped us to +undo our bags. And all the time such questions, such assurances +of respect and sympathy! I declare I never knew what glory was +before.<br> +<br> +‘Yes, yes, the <i>Royal Sport Nautique</i> is the oldest club +in Belgium.’<br> +<br> +‘We number two hundred.’<br> +<br> +‘We’ - this is not a substantive speech, but an abstract +of many speeches, the impression left upon my mind after a great deal +of talk; and very youthful, pleasant, natural, and patriotic it seems +to me to be - ‘We have gained all races, except those where we +were cheated by the French.’<br> +<br> +‘You must leave all your wet things to be dried.’<br> +<br> +‘O! <i>entre frères</i>! In any boat-house in England +we should find the same.’ (I cordially hope they might.)<br> +<br> +‘<i>En Angleterre, vous employez des sliding-seats</i>, <i>n’est-ce +pas</i>?’<br> +<br> +‘We are all employed in commerce during the day; but in the evening, +<i>voyez-vous, nous sommes sérieux</i>.’<br> +<br> +These were the words. They were all employed over the frivolous +mercantile concerns of Belgium during the day; but in the evening they +found some hours for the serious concerns of life. I may have +a wrong idea of wisdom, but I think that was a very wise remark. +People connected with literature and philosophy are busy all their days +in getting rid of second-hand notions and false standards. It +is their profession, in the sweat of their brows, by dogged thinking, +to recover their old fresh view of life, and distinguish what they really +and originally like, from what they have only learned to tolerate perforce. +And these Royal Nautical Sportsmen had the distinction still quite legible +in their hearts. They had still those clean perceptions of what +is nice and nasty, what is interesting and what is dull, which envious +old gentlemen refer to as illusions. The nightmare illusion of +middle age, the bear’s hug of custom gradually squeezing the life +out of a man’s soul, had not yet begun for these happy-starred +young Belgians. They still knew that the interest they took in +their business was a trifling affair compared to their spontaneous, +long-suffering affection for nautical sports. To know what you +prefer, instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you +ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive. Such a man may +be generous; he may be honest in something more than the commercial +sense; he may love his friends with an elective, personal sympathy, +and not accept them as an adjunct of the station to which he has been +called. He may be a man, in short, acting on his own instincts, +keeping in his own shape that God made him in; and not a mere crank +in the social engine-house, welded on principles that he does not understand, +and for purposes that he does not care for.<br> +<br> +For will any one dare to tell me that business is more entertaining +than fooling among boats? He must have never seen a boat, or never +seen an office, who says so. And for certain the one is a great +deal better for the health. There should be nothing so much a +man’s business as his amusements. Nothing but money-grubbing +can be put forward to the contrary; no one but<br> +<br> +Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell<br> +From Heaven,<br> +<br> +<br> +durst risk a word in answer. It is but a lying cant that would +represent the merchant and the banker as people disinterestedly toiling +for mankind, and then most useful when they are most absorbed in their +transactions; for the man is more important than his services. +And when my Royal Nautical Sportsman shall have so far fallen from his +hopeful youth that he cannot pluck up an enthusiasm over anything but +his ledger, I venture to doubt whether he will be near so nice a fellow, +and whether he would welcome, with so good a grace, a couple of drenched +Englishmen paddling into Brussels in the dusk.<br> +<br> +When we had changed our wet clothes and drunk a glass of pale ale to +the Club’s prosperity, one of their number escorted us to an hotel. +He would not join us at our dinner, but he had no objection to a glass +of wine. Enthusiasm is very wearing; and I begin to understand +why prophets were unpopular in Judaea, where they were best known. +For three stricken hours did this excellent young man sit beside us +to dilate on boats and boat-races; and before he left, he was kind enough +to order our bedroom candles.<br> +<br> +We endeavoured now and again to change the subject; but the diversion +did not last a moment: the Royal Nautical Sportsman bridled, shied, +answered the question, and then breasted once more into the swelling +tide of his subject. I call it his subject; but I think it was +he who was subjected. The <i>Arethusa</i>, who holds all racing +as a creature of the devil, found himself in a pitiful dilemma. +He durst not own his ignorance for the honour of Old England, and spoke +away about English clubs and English oarsmen whose fame had never before +come to his ears. Several times, and, once above all, on the question +of sliding-seats, he was within an ace of exposure. As for the +<i>Cigarette</i>, who has rowed races in the heat of his blood, but +now disowns these slips of his wanton youth, his case was still more +desperate; for the Royal Nautical proposed that he should take an oar +in one of their eights on the morrow, to compare the English with the +Belgian stroke. I could see my friend perspiring in his chair +whenever that particular topic came up. And there was yet another +proposal which had the same effect on both of us. It appeared +that the champion canoeist of Europe (as well as most other champions) +was a Royal Nautical Sportsman. And if we would only wait until +the Sunday, this infernal paddler would be so condescending as to accompany +us on our next stage. Neither of us had the least desire to drive +the coursers of the sun against Apollo.<br> +<br> +When the young man was gone, we countermanded our candles, and ordered +some brandy and water. The great billows had gone over our head. +The Royal Nautical Sportsmen were as nice young fellows as a man would +wish to see, but they were a trifle too young and a thought too nautical +for us. We began to see that we were old and cynical; we liked +ease and the agreeable rambling of the human mind about this and the +other subject; we did not want to disgrace our native land by messing +an eight, or toiling pitifully in the wake of the champion canoeist. +In short, we had recourse to flight. It seemed ungrateful, but +we tried to make that good on a card loaded with sincere compliments. +And indeed it was no time for scruples; we seemed to feel the hot breath +of the champion on our necks.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +AT MAUBEUGE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Partly from the terror we had of our good friends the Royal Nauticals, +partly from the fact that there were no fewer than fifty-five locks +between Brussels and Charleroi, we concluded that we should travel by +train across the frontier, boats and all. Fifty-five locks in +a day’s journey was pretty well tantamount to trudging the whole +distance on foot, with the canoes upon our shoulders, an object of astonishment +to the trees on the canal side, and of honest derision to all right-thinking +children.<br> +<br> +To pass the frontier, even in a train, is a difficult matter for the +<i>Arethusa</i>. He is somehow or other a marked man for the official +eye. Wherever he journeys, there are the officers gathered together. +Treaties are solemnly signed, foreign ministers, ambassadors, and consuls +sit throned in state from China to Peru, and the Union Jack flutters +on all the winds of heaven. Under these safeguards, portly clergymen, +school-mistresses, gentlemen in grey tweed suits, and all the ruck and +rabble of British touristry pour unhindered, <i>Murray</i> in hand, +over the railways of the Continent, and yet the slim person of the <i>Arethusa</i> +is taken in the meshes, while these great fish go on their way rejoicing. +If he travels without a passport, he is cast, without any figure about +the matter, into noisome dungeons: if his papers are in order, he is +suffered to go his way indeed, but not until he has been humiliated +by a general incredulity. He is a born British subject, yet he +has never succeeded in persuading a single official of his nationality. +He flatters himself he is indifferent honest; yet he is rarely taken +for anything better than a spy, and there is no absurd and disreputable +means of livelihood but has been attributed to him in some heat of official +or popular distrust. . . .<br> +<br> +For the life of me I cannot understand it. I too have been knolled +to church, and sat at good men’s feasts; but I bear no mark of +it. I am as strange as a Jack Indian to their official spectacles. +I might come from any part of the globe, it seems, except from where +I do. My ancestors have laboured in vain, and the glorious Constitution +cannot protect me in my walks abroad. It is a great thing, believe +me, to present a good normal type of the nation you belong to.<br> +<br> +Nobody else was asked for his papers on the way to Maubeuge; but I was; +and although I clung to my rights, I had to choose at last between accepting +the humiliation and being left behind by the train. I was sorry +to give way; but I wanted to get to Maubeuge.<br> +<br> +Maubeuge is a fortified town, with a very good inn, the <i>Grand Cerf</i>. +It seemed to be inhabited principally by soldiers and bagmen; at least, +these were all that we saw, except the hotel servants. We had +to stay there some time, for the canoes were in no hurry to follow us, +and at last stuck hopelessly in the custom-house until we went back +to liberate them. There was nothing to do, nothing to see. +We had good meals, which was a great matter; but that was all.<br> +<br> +The <i>Cigarette</i> was nearly taken up upon a charge of drawing the +fortifications: a feat of which he was hopelessly incapable. And +besides, as I suppose each belligerent nation has a plan of the other’s +fortified places already, these precautions are of the nature of shutting +the stable door after the steed is away. But I have no doubt they +help to keep up a good spirit at home. It is a great thing if +you can persuade people that they are somehow or other partakers in +a mystery. It makes them feel bigger. Even the Freemasons, +who have been shown up to satiety, preserve a kind of pride; and not +a grocer among them, however honest, harmless, and empty-headed he may +feel himself to be at bottom, but comes home from one of their <i>coenacula</i> +with a portentous significance for himself.<br> +<br> +It is an odd thing, how happily two people, if there are two, can live +in a place where they have no acquaintance. I think the spectacle +of a whole life in which you have no part paralyses personal desire. +You are content to become a mere spectator. The baker stands in +his door; the colonel with his three medals goes by to the <i>café</i> +at night; the troops drum and trumpet and man the ramparts, as bold +as so many lions. It would task language to say how placidly you +behold all this. In a place where you have taken some root, you +are provoked out of your indifference; you have a hand in the game; +your friends are fighting with the army. But in a strange town, +not small enough to grow too soon familiar, nor so large as to have +laid itself out for travellers, you stand so far apart from the business, +that you positively forget it would be possible to go nearer; you have +so little human interest around you, that you do not remember yourself +to be a man. Perhaps, in a very short time, you would be one no +longer. Gymnosophists go into a wood, with all nature seething +around them, with romance on every side; it would be much more to the +purpose if they took up their abode in a dull country town, where they +should see just so much of humanity as to keep them from desiring more, +and only the stale externals of man’s life. These externals +are as dead to us as so many formalities, and speak a dead language +in our eyes and ears. They have no more meaning than an oath or +a salutation. We are so much accustomed to see married couples +going to church of a Sunday that we have clean forgotten what they represent; +and novelists are driven to rehabilitate adultery, no less, when they +wish to show us what a beautiful thing it is for a man and a woman to +live for each other.<br> +<br> +One person in Maubeuge, however, showed me something more than his outside. +That was the driver of the hotel omnibus: a mean enough looking little +man, as well as I can remember; but with a spark of something human +in his soul. He had heard of our little journey, and came to me +at once in envious sympathy. How he longed to travel! he told +me. How he longed to be somewhere else, and see the round world +before he went into the grave! ‘Here I am,’ said he. +‘I drive to the station. Well. And then I drive back +again to the hotel. And so on every day and all the week round. +My God, is that life?’ I could not say I thought it was +- for him. He pressed me to tell him where I had been, and where +I hoped to go; and as he listened, I declare the fellow sighed. +Might not this have been a brave African traveller, or gone to the Indies +after Drake? But it is an evil age for the gypsily inclined among +men. He who can sit squarest on a three-legged stool, he it is +who has the wealth and glory.<br> +<br> +I wonder if my friend is still driving the omnibus for the Grand Cerf? +Not very likely, I believe; for I think he was on the eve of mutiny +when we passed through, and perhaps our passage determined him for good. +Better a thousand times that he should be a tramp, and mend pots and +pans by the wayside, and sleep under trees, and see the dawn and the +sunset every day above a new horizon. I think I hear you say that +it is a respectable position to drive an omnibus? Very well. +What right has he who likes it not, to keep those who would like it +dearly out of this respectable position? Suppose a dish were not +to my taste, and you told me that it was a favourite amongst the rest +of the company, what should I conclude from that? Not to finish +the dish against my stomach, I suppose.<br> +<br> +Respectability is a very good thing in its way, but it does not rise +superior to all considerations. I would not for a moment venture +to hint that it was a matter of taste; but I think I will go as far +as this: that if a position is admittedly unkind, uncomfortable, unnecessary, +and superfluously useless, although it were as respectable as the Church +of England, the sooner a man is out of it, the better for himself, and +all concerned.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ON THE SAMBRE CANALISED<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +TO QUARTES<br> +<br> +<br> +About three in the afternoon the whole establishment of the <i>Grand +Cerf</i> accompanied us to the water’s edge. The man of +the omnibus was there with haggard eyes. Poor cage-bird! +Do I not remember the time when I myself haunted the station, to watch +train after train carry its complement of freemen into the night, and +read the names of distant places on the time-bills with indescribable +longings?<br> +<br> +We were not clear of the fortifications before the rain began. +The wind was contrary, and blew in furious gusts; nor were the aspects +of nature any more clement than the doings of the sky. For we +passed through a stretch of blighted country, sparsely covered with +brush, but handsomely enough diversified with factory chimneys. +We landed in a soiled meadow among some pollards, and there smoked a +pipe in a flaw of fair weather. But the wind blew so hard, we +could get little else to smoke. There were no natural objects +in the neighbourhood, but some sordid workshops. A group of children +headed by a tall girl stood and watched us from a little distance all +the time we stayed. I heartily wonder what they thought of us.<br> +<br> +At Hautmont, the lock was almost impassable; the landing-place being +steep and high, and the launch at a long distance. Near a dozen +grimy workmen lent us a hand. They refused any reward; and, what +is much better, refused it handsomely, without conveying any sense of +insult. ‘It is a way we have in our countryside,’ +said they. And a very becoming way it is. In Scotland, where +also you will get services for nothing, the good people reject your +money as if you had been trying to corrupt a voter. When people +take the trouble to do dignified acts, it is worth while to take a little +more, and allow the dignity to be common to all concerned. But +in our brave Saxon countries, where we plod threescore years and ten +in the mud, and the wind keeps singing in our ears from birth to burial, +we do our good and bad with a high hand and almost offensively; and +make even our alms a witness-bearing and an act of war against the wrong.<br> +<br> +After Hautmont, the sun came forth again and the wind went down; and +a little paddling took us beyond the ironworks and through a delectable +land. The river wound among low hills, so that sometimes the sun +was at our backs, and sometimes it stood right ahead, and the river +before us was one sheet of intolerable glory. On either hand, +meadows and orchards bordered, with a margin of sedge and water flowers, +upon the river. The hedges were of great height, woven about the +trunks of hedgerow elms; and the fields, as they were often very small, +looked like a series of bowers along the stream. There was never +any prospect; sometimes a hill-top with its trees would look over the +nearest hedgerow, just to make a middle distance for the sky; but that +was all. The heaven was bare of clouds. The atmosphere, +after the rain, was of enchanting purity. The river doubled among +the hillocks, a shining strip of mirror glass; and the dip of the paddles +set the flowers shaking along the brink.<br> +<br> +In the meadows wandered black and white cattle fantastically marked. +One beast, with a white head and the rest of the body glossy black, +came to the edge to drink, and stood gravely twitching his ears at me +as I went by, like some sort of preposterous clergyman in a play. +A moment after I heard a loud plunge, and, turning my head, saw the +clergyman struggling to shore. The bank had given way under his +feet.<br> +<br> +Besides the cattle, we saw no living things except a few birds and a +great many fishermen. These sat along the edges of the meadows, +sometimes with one rod, sometimes with as many as half a score. +They seemed stupefied with contentment; and when we induced them to +exchange a few words with us about the weather, their voices sounded +quiet and far away. There was a strange diversity of opinion among +them as to the kind of fish for which they set their lures; although +they were all agreed in this, that the river was abundantly supplied. +Where it was plain that no two of them had ever caught the same kind +of fish, we could not help suspecting that perhaps not any one of them +had ever caught a fish at all. I hope, since the afternoon was +so lovely, that they were one and all rewarded; and that a silver booty +went home in every basket for the pot. Some of my friends would +cry shame on me for this; but I prefer a man, were he only an angler, +to the bravest pair of gills in all God’s waters. I do not +affect fishes unless when cooked in sauce; whereas an angler is an important +piece of river scenery, and hence deserves some recognition among canoeists. +He can always tell you where you are after a mild fashion; and his quiet +presence serves to accentuate the solitude and stillness, and remind +you of the glittering citizens below your boat.<br> +<br> +The Sambre turned so industriously to and fro among his little hills, +that it was past six before we drew near the lock at Quartes. +There were some children on the tow-path, with whom the <i>Cigarette</i> +fell into a chaffing talk as they ran along beside us. It was +in vain that I warned him. In vain I told him, in English, that +boys were the most dangerous creatures; and if once you began with them, +it was safe to end in a shower of stones. For my own part, whenever +anything was addressed to me, I smiled gently and shook my head as though +I were an inoffensive person inadequately acquainted with French. +For indeed I have had such experience at home, that I would sooner meet +many wild animals than a troop of healthy urchins.<br> +<br> +But I was doing injustice to these peaceable young Hainaulters. +When the <i>Cigarette</i> went off to make inquiries, I got out upon +the bank to smoke a pipe and superintend the boats, and became at once +the centre of much amiable curiosity. The children had been joined +by this time by a young woman and a mild lad who had lost an arm; and +this gave me more security. When I let slip my first word or so +in French, a little girl nodded her head with a comical grown-up air. +‘Ah, you see,’ she said, ‘he understands well enough +now; he was just making believe.’ And the little group laughed +together very good-naturedly.<br> +<br> +They were much impressed when they heard we came from England; and the +little girl proffered the information that England was an island ‘and +a far way from here - <i>bien loin d’ici</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘Ay, you may say that, a far way from here,’ said the lad +with one arm.<br> +<br> +I was as nearly home-sick as ever I was in my life; they seemed to make +it such an incalculable distance to the place where I first saw the +day. They admired the canoes very much. And I observed one +piece of delicacy in these children, which is worthy of record. +They had been deafening us for the last hundred yards with petitions +for a sail; ay, and they deafened us to the same tune next morning when +we came to start; but then, when the canoes were lying empty, there +was no word of any such petition. Delicacy? or perhaps a bit of +fear for the water in so crank a vessel? I hate cynicism a great +deal worse than I do the devil; unless perhaps the two were the same +thing? And yet ’tis a good tonic; the cold tub and bath-towel +of the sentiments; and positively necessary to life in cases of advanced +sensibility.<br> +<br> +From the boats they turned to my costume. They could not make +enough of my red sash; and my knife filled them with awe.<br> +<br> +‘They make them like that in England,’ said the boy with +one arm. I was glad he did not know how badly we make them in +England now-a-days. ‘They are for people who go away to +sea,’ he added, ‘and to defend one’s life against +great fish.’<br> +<br> +I felt I was becoming a more and more romantic figure to the little +group at every word. And so I suppose I was. Even my pipe, +although it was an ordinary French clay pretty well ‘trousered,’ +as they call it, would have a rarity in their eyes, as a thing coming +from so far away. And if my feathers were not very fine in themselves, +they were all from over seas. One thing in my outfit, however, +tickled them out of all politeness; and that was the bemired condition +of my canvas shoes. I suppose they were sure the mud at any rate +was a home product. The little girl (who was the genius of the +party) displayed her own sabots in competition; and I wish you could +have seen how gracefully and merrily she did it.<br> +<br> +The young woman’s milk-can, a great amphora of hammered brass, +stood some way off upon the sward. I was glad of an opportunity +to divert public attention from myself, and return some of the compliments +I had received. So I admired it cordially both for form and colour, +telling them, and very truly, that it was as beautiful as gold. +They were not surprised. The things were plainly the boast of +the countryside. And the children expatiated on the costliness +of these amphorae, which sell sometimes as high as thirty francs apiece; +told me how they were carried on donkeys, one on either side of the +saddle, a brave caparison in themselves; and how they were to be seen +all over the district, and at the larger farms in great number and of +great size.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PONT-SUR-SAMBRE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +WE ARE PEDLARS<br> +<br> +<br> +The <i>Cigarette</i> returned with good news. There were beds +to be had some ten minutes’ walk from where we were, at a place +called Pont. We stowed the canoes in a granary, and asked among +the children for a guide. The circle at once widened round us, +and our offers of reward were received in dispiriting silence. +We were plainly a pair of Bluebeards to the children; they might speak +to us in public places, and where they had the advantage of numbers; +but it was another thing to venture off alone with two uncouth and legendary +characters, who had dropped from the clouds upon their hamlet this quiet +afternoon, sashed and be-knived, and with a flavour of great voyages. +The owner of the granary came to our assistance, singled out one little +fellow and threatened him with corporalities; or I suspect we should +have had to find the way for ourselves. As it was, he was more +frightened at the granary man than the strangers, having perhaps had +some experience of the former. But I fancy his little heart must +have been going at a fine rate; for he kept trotting at a respectful +distance in front, and looking back at us with scared eyes. Not +otherwise may the children of the young world have guided Jove or one +of his Olympian compeers on an adventure.<br> +<br> +A miry lane led us up from Quartes with its church and bickering windmill. +The hinds were trudging homewards from the fields. A brisk little +woman passed us by. She was seated across a donkey between a pair +of glittering milk-cans; and, as she went, she kicked jauntily with +her heels upon the donkey’s side, and scattered shrill remarks +among the wayfarers. It was notable that none of the tired men +took the trouble to reply. Our conductor soon led us out of the +lane and across country. The sun had gone down, but the west in +front of us was one lake of level gold. The path wandered a while +in the open, and then passed under a trellis like a bower indefinitely +prolonged. On either hand were shadowy orchards; cottages lay +low among the leaves, and sent their smoke to heaven; every here and +there, in an opening, appeared the great gold face of the west.<br> +<br> +I never saw the <i>Cigarette</i> in such an idyllic frame of mind. +He waxed positively lyrical in praise of country scenes. I was +little less exhilarated myself; the mild air of the evening, the shadows, +the rich lights and the silence, made a symphonious accompaniment about +our walk; and we both determined to avoid towns for the future and sleep +in hamlets.<br> +<br> +At last the path went between two houses, and turned the party out into +a wide muddy high-road, bordered, as far as the eye could reach on either +hand, by an unsightly village. The houses stood well back, leaving +a ribbon of waste land on either side of the road, where there were +stacks of firewood, carts, barrows, rubbish-heaps, and a little doubtful +grass. Away on the left, a gaunt tower stood in the middle of +the street. What it had been in past ages, I know not: probably +a hold in time of war; but now-a-days it bore an illegible dial-plate +in its upper parts, and near the bottom an iron letter-box.<br> +<br> +The inn to which we had been recommended at Quartes was full, or else +the landlady did not like our looks. I ought to say, that with +our long, damp india-rubber bags, we presented rather a doubtful type +of civilisation: like rag-and-bone men, the <i>Cigarette</i> imagined. +‘These gentlemen are pedlars? - <i>Ces messieurs sont des marchands</i>?’ +- asked the landlady. And then, without waiting for an answer, +which I suppose she thought superfluous in so plain a case, recommended +us to a butcher who lived hard by the tower, and took in travellers +to lodge.<br> +<br> +Thither went we. But the butcher was flitting, and all his beds +were taken down. Or else he didn’t like our look. +As a parting shot, we had ‘These gentlemen are pedlars?’<br> +<br> +It began to grow dark in earnest. We could no longer distinguish +the faces of the people who passed us by with an inarticulate good-evening. +And the householders of Pont seemed very economical with their oil; +for we saw not a single window lighted in all that long village. +I believe it is the longest village in the world; but I daresay in our +predicament every pace counted three times over. We were much +cast down when we came to the last auberge; and looking in at the dark +door, asked timidly if we could sleep there for the night. A female +voice assented in no very friendly tones. We clapped the bags +down and found our way to chairs.<br> +<br> +The place was in total darkness, save a red glow in the chinks and ventilators +of the stove. But now the landlady lit a lamp to see her new guests; +I suppose the darkness was what saved us another expulsion; for I cannot +say she looked gratified at our appearance. We were in a large +bare apartment, adorned with two allegorical prints of Music and Painting, +and a copy of the law against public drunkenness. On one side, +there was a bit of a bar, with some half-a-dozen bottles. Two +labourers sat waiting supper, in attitudes of extreme weariness; a plain-looking +lass bustled about with a sleepy child of two; and the landlady began +to derange the pots upon the stove, and set some beefsteak to grill.<br> +<br> +‘These gentlemen are pedlars?’ she asked sharply. +And that was all the conversation forthcoming. We began to think +we might be pedlars after all. I never knew a population with +so narrow a range of conjecture as the innkeepers of Pont-sur-Sambre. +But manners and bearing have not a wider currency than bank-notes. +You have only to get far enough out of your beat, and all your accomplished +airs will go for nothing. These Hainaulters could see no difference +between us and the average pedlar. Indeed we had some grounds +for reflection while the steak was getting ready, to see how perfectly +they accepted us at their own valuation, and how our best politeness +and best efforts at entertainment seemed to fit quite suitably with +the character of packmen. At least it seemed a good account of +the profession in France, that even before such judges we could not +beat them at our own weapons.<br> +<br> +At last we were called to table. The two hinds (and one of them +looked sadly worn and white in the face, as though sick with over-work +and under-feeding) supped off a single plate of some sort of bread-berry, +some potatoes in their jackets, a small cup of coffee sweetened with +sugar-candy, and one tumbler of swipes. The landlady, her son, +and the lass aforesaid, took the same. Our meal was quite a banquet +by comparison. We had some beefsteak, not so tender as it might +have been, some of the potatoes, some cheese, an extra glass of the +swipes, and white sugar in our coffee.<br> +<br> +You see what it is to be a gentleman - I beg your pardon, what it is +to be a pedlar. It had not before occurred to me that a pedlar +was a great man in a labourer’s ale-house; but now that I had +to enact the part for an evening, I found that so it was. He has +in his hedge quarters somewhat the same pre-eminency as the man who +takes a private parlour in an hotel. The more you look into it, +the more infinite are the class distinctions among men; and possibly, +by a happy dispensation, there is no one at all at the bottom of the +scale; no one but can find some superiority over somebody else, to keep +up his pride withal.<br> +<br> +We were displeased enough with our fare. Particularly the <i>Cigarette</i>, +for I tried to make believe that I was amused with the adventure, tough +beefsteak and all. According to the Lucretian maxim, our steak +should have been flavoured by the look of the other people’s bread-berry. +But we did not find it so in practice. You may have a head-knowledge +that other people live more poorly than yourself, but it is not agreeable +- I was going to say, it is against the etiquette of the universe - +to sit at the same table and pick your own superior diet from among +their crusts. I had not seen such a thing done since the greedy +boy at school with his birthday cake. It was odious enough to +witness, I could remember; and I had never thought to play the part +myself. But there again you see what it is to be a pedlar.<br> +<br> +There is no doubt that the poorer classes in our country are much more +charitably disposed than their superiors in wealth. And I fancy +it must arise a great deal from the comparative indistinction of the +easy and the not so easy in these ranks. A workman or a pedlar +cannot shutter himself off from his less comfortable neighbours. +If he treats himself to a luxury, he must do it in the face of a dozen +who cannot. And what should more directly lead to charitable thoughts? +. . . Thus the poor man, camping out in life, sees it as it is, and +knows that every mouthful he puts in his belly has been wrenched out +of the fingers of the hungry.<br> +<br> +But at a certain stage of prosperity, as in a balloon ascent, the fortunate +person passes through a zone of clouds, and sublunary matters are thenceforward +hidden from his view. He sees nothing but the heavenly bodies, +all in admirable order, and positively as good as new. He finds +himself surrounded in the most touching manner by the attentions of +Providence, and compares himself involuntarily with the lilies and the +skylarks. He does not precisely sing, of course; but then he looks +so unassuming in his open landau! If all the world dined at one +table, this philosophy would meet with some rude knocks.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PONT-SUR-SAMBRE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE TRAVELLING MERCHANT<br> +<br> +<br> +Like the lackeys in Molière’s farce, when the true nobleman +broke in on their high life below stairs, we were destined to be confronted +with a real pedlar. To make the lesson still more poignant for +fallen gentlemen like us, he was a pedlar of infinitely more consideration +than the sort of scurvy fellows we were taken for: like a lion among +mice, or a ship of war bearing down upon two cock-boats. Indeed, +he did not deserve the name of pedlar at all: he was a travelling merchant.<br> +<br> +I suppose it was about half-past eight when this worthy, Monsieur Hector +Gilliard of Maubeuge, turned up at the ale-house door in a tilt cart +drawn by a donkey, and cried cheerily on the inhabitants. He was +a lean, nervous flibbertigibbet of a man, with something the look of +an actor, and something the look of a horse-jockey. He had evidently +prospered without any of the favours of education; for he adhered with +stern simplicity to the masculine gender, and in the course of the evening +passed off some fancy futures in a very florid style of architecture. +With him came his wife, a comely young woman with her hair tied in a +yellow kerchief, and their son, a little fellow of four, in a blouse +and military <i>képi</i>. It was notable that the child +was many degrees better dressed than either of the parents. We +were informed he was already at a boarding-school; but the holidays +having just commenced, he was off to spend them with his parents on +a cruise. An enchanting holiday occupation, was it not? to travel +all day with father and mother in the tilt cart full of countless treasures; +the green country rattling by on either side, and the children in all +the villages contemplating him with envy and wonder? It is better +fun, during the holidays, to be the son of a travelling merchant, than +son and heir to the greatest cotton-spinner in creation. And as +for being a reigning prince - indeed I never saw one if it was not Master +Gilliard!<br> +<br> +While M. Hector and the son of the house were putting up the donkey, +and getting all the valuables under lock and key, the landlady warmed +up the remains of our beefsteak, and fried the cold potatoes in slices, +and Madame Gilliard set herself to waken the boy, who had come far that +day, and was peevish and dazzled by the light. He was no sooner +awake than he began to prepare himself for supper by eating galette, +unripe pears, and cold potatoes - with, so far as I could judge, positive +benefit to his appetite.<br> +<br> +The landlady, fired with motherly emulation, awoke her own little girl; +and the two children were confronted. Master Gilliard looked at +her for a moment, very much as a dog looks at his own reflection in +a mirror before he turns away. He was at that time absorbed in +the galette. His mother seemed crestfallen that he should display +so little inclination towards the other sex; and expressed her disappointment +with some candour and a very proper reference to the influence of years.<br> +<br> +Sure enough a time will come when he will pay more attention to the +girls, and think a great deal less of his mother: let us hope she will +like it as well as she seemed to fancy. But it is odd enough; +the very women who profess most contempt for mankind as a sex, seem +to find even its ugliest particulars rather lively and high-minded in +their own sons.<br> +<br> +The little girl looked longer and with more interest, probably because +she was in her own house, while he was a traveller and accustomed to +strange sights. And besides there was no galette in the case with +her.<br> +<br> +All the time of supper, there was nothing spoken of but my young lord. +The two parents were both absurdly fond of their child. Monsieur +kept insisting on his sagacity: how he knew all the children at school +by name; and when this utterly failed on trial, how he was cautious +and exact to a strange degree, and if asked anything, he would sit and +think - and think, and if he did not know it, ‘my faith, he wouldn’t +tell you at all - <i>foi, il ne</i> <i>vous le dira pas</i>’: +which is certainly a very high degree of caution. At intervals, +M. Hector would appeal to his wife, with his mouth full of beefsteak, +as to the little fellow’s age at such or such a time when he had +said or done something memorable; and I noticed that Madame usually +pooh-poohed these inquiries. She herself was not boastful in her +vein; but she never had her fill of caressing the child; and she seemed +to take a gentle pleasure in recalling all that was fortunate in his +little existence. No schoolboy could have talked more of the holidays +which were just beginning and less of the black school-time which must +inevitably follow after. She showed, with a pride perhaps partly +mercantile in origin, his pockets preposterously swollen with tops and +whistles and string. When she called at a house in the way of +business, it appeared he kept her company; and whenever a sale was made, +received a sou out of the profit. Indeed they spoiled him vastly, +these two good people. But they had an eye to his manners for +all that, and reproved him for some little faults in breeding, which +occurred from time to time during supper.<br> +<br> +On the whole, I was not much hurt at being taken for a pedlar. +I might think that I ate with greater delicacy, or that my mistakes +in French belonged to a different order; but it was plain that these +distinctions would be thrown away upon the landlady and the two labourers. +In all essential things we and the Gilliards cut very much the same +figure in the ale-house kitchen. M. Hector was more at home, indeed, +and took a higher tone with the world; but that was explicable on the +ground of his driving a donkey-cart, while we poor bodies tramped afoot. +I daresay, the rest of the company thought us dying with envy, though +in no ill sense, to be as far up in the profession as the new arrival.<br> +<br> +And of one thing I am sure: that every one thawed and became more humanised +and conversible as soon as these innocent people appeared upon the scene. +I would not very readily trust the travelling merchant with any extravagant +sum of money; but I am sure his heart was in the right place. +In this mixed world, if you can find one or two sensible places in a +man - above all, if you should find a whole family living together on +such pleasant terms - you may surely be satisfied, and take the rest +for granted; or, what is a great deal better, boldly make up your mind +that you can do perfectly well without the rest; and that ten thousand +bad traits cannot make a single good one any the less good.<br> +<br> +It was getting late. M. Hector lit a stable lantern and went off +to his cart for some arrangements; and my young gentleman proceeded +to divest himself of the better part of his raiment, and play gymnastics +on his mother’s lap, and thence on to the floor, with accompaniment +of laughter.<br> +<br> +‘Are you going to sleep alone?’ asked the servant lass.<br> +<br> +‘There’s little fear of that,’ says Master Gilliard.<br> +<br> +‘You sleep alone at school,’ objected his mother. +‘Come, come, you must be a man.’<br> +<br> +But he protested that school was a different matter from the holidays; +that there were dormitories at school; and silenced the discussion with +kisses: his mother smiling, no one better pleased than she.<br> +<br> +There certainly was, as he phrased it, very little fear that he should +sleep alone; for there was but one bed for the trio. We, on our +part, had firmly protested against one man’s accommodation for +two; and we had a double-bedded pen in the loft of the house, furnished, +beside the beds, with exactly three hat-pegs and one table. There +was not so much as a glass of water. But the window would open, +by good fortune.<br> +<br> +Some time before I fell asleep the loft was full of the sound of mighty +snoring: the Gilliards, and the labourers, and the people of the inn, +all at it, I suppose, with one consent. The young moon outside +shone very clearly over Pont-sur-Sambre, and down upon the ale-house +where all we pedlars were abed.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ON THE SAMBRE CANALISED<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +TO LANDRECIES<br> +<br> +<br> +In the morning, when we came downstairs, the landlady pointed out to +us two pails of water behind the street-door. ‘<i>Voilà +de l’eau pour</i> <i>vous débarbouiller</i>,’ says +she. And so there we made a shift to wash ourselves, while Madame +Gilliard brushed the family boots on the outer doorstep, and M. Hector, +whistling cheerily, arranged some small goods for the day’s campaign +in a portable chest of drawers, which formed a part of his baggage. +Meanwhile the child was letting off Waterloo crackers all over the floor.<br> +<br> +I wonder, by-the-bye, what they call Waterloo crackers in France; perhaps +Austerlitz crackers. There is a great deal in the point of view. +Do you remember the Frenchman who, travelling by way of Southampton, +was put down in Waterloo Station, and had to drive across Waterloo Bridge? +He had a mind to go home again, it seems.<br> +<br> +Pont itself is on the river, but whereas it is ten minutes’ walk +from Quartes by dry land, it is six weary kilometres by water. +We left our bags at the inn, and walked to our canoes through the wet +orchards unencumbered. Some of the children were there to see +us off, but we were no longer the mysterious beings of the night before. +A departure is much less romantic than an unexplained arrival in the +golden evening. Although we might be greatly taken at a ghost’s +first appearance, we should behold him vanish with comparative equanimity.<br> +<br> +The good folk of the inn at Pont, when we called there for the bags, +were overcome with marvelling. At sight of these two dainty little +boats, with a fluttering Union Jack on each, and all the varnish shining +from the sponge, they began to perceive that they had entertained angels +unawares. The landlady stood upon the bridge, probably lamenting +she had charged so little; the son ran to and fro, and called out the +neighbours to enjoy the sight; and we paddled away from quite a crowd +of wrapt observers. These gentlemen pedlars, indeed! Now +you see their quality too late.<br> +<br> +The whole day was showery, with occasional drenching plumps. We +were soaked to the skin, then partially dried in the sun, then soaked +once more. But there were some calm intervals, and one notably, +when we were skirting the forest of Mormal, a sinister name to the ear, +but a place most gratifying to sight and smell. It looked solemn +along the river-side, drooping its boughs into the water, and piling +them up aloft into a wall of leaves. What is a forest but a city +of nature’s own, full of hardy and innocuous living things, where +there is nothing dead and nothing made with the hands, but the citizens +themselves are the houses and public monuments? There is nothing +so much alive, and yet so quiet, as a woodland; and a pair of people, +swinging past in canoes, feel very small and bustling by comparison.<br> +<br> +And surely of all smells in the world, the smell of many trees is the +sweetest and most fortifying. The sea has a rude, pistolling sort +of odour, that takes you in the nostrils like snuff, and carries with +it a fine sentiment of open water and tall ships; but the smell of a +forest, which comes nearest to this in tonic quality, surpasses it by +many degrees in the quality of softness. Again, the smell of the +sea has little variety, but the smell of a forest is infinitely changeful; +it varies with the hour of the day, not in strength merely, but in character; +and the different sorts of trees, as you go from one zone of the wood +to another, seem to live among different kinds of atmosphere. +Usually the resin of the fir predominates. But some woods are +more coquettish in their habits; and the breath of the forest of Mormal, +as it came aboard upon us that showery afternoon, was perfumed with +nothing less delicate than sweetbrier.<br> +<br> +I wish our way had always lain among woods. Trees are the most +civil society. An old oak that has been growing where he stands +since before the Reformation, taller than many spires, more stately +than the greater part of mountains, and yet a living thing, liable to +sicknesses and death, like you and me: is not that in itself a speaking +lesson in history? But acres on acres full of such patriarchs +contiguously rooted, their green tops billowing in the wind, their stalwart +younglings pushing up about their knees: a whole forest, healthy and +beautiful, giving colour to the light, giving perfume to the air: what +is this but the most imposing piece in nature’s repertory? +Heine wished to lie like Merlin under the oaks of Broceliande. +I should not be satisfied with one tree; but if the wood grew together +like a banyan grove, I would be buried under the tap-root of the whole; +my parts should circulate from oak to oak; and my consciousness should +be diffused abroad in all the forest, and give a common heart to that +assembly of green spires, so that it also might rejoice in its own loveliness +and dignity. I think I feel a thousand squirrels leaping from +bough to bough in my vast mausoleum; and the birds and the winds merrily +coursing over its uneven, leafy surface.<br> +<br> +Alas! the forest of Mormal is only a little bit of a wood, and it was +but for a little way that we skirted by its boundaries. And the +rest of the time the rain kept coming in squirts and the wind in squalls, +until one’s heart grew weary of such fitful, scolding weather. +It was odd how the showers began when we had to carry the boats over +a lock, and must expose our legs. They always did. This +is a sort of thing that readily begets a personal feeling against nature. +There seems no reason why the shower should not come five minutes before +or five minutes after, unless you suppose an intention to affront you. +The <i>Cigarette</i> had a mackintosh which put him more or less above +these contrarieties. But I had to bear the brunt uncovered. +I began to remember that nature was a woman. My companion, in +a rosier temper, listened with great satisfaction to my Jeremiads, and +ironically concurred. He instanced, as a cognate matter, the action +of the tides, ‘which,’ said he, ‘was altogether designed +for the confusion of canoeists, except in so far as it was calculated +to minister to a barren vanity on the part of the moon.’<br> +<br> +At the last lock, some little way out of Landrecies, I refused to go +any farther; and sat in a drift of rain by the side of the bank, to +have a reviving pipe. A vivacious old man, whom I take to have +been the devil, drew near and questioned me about our journey. +In the fulness of my heart, I laid bare our plans before him. +He said it was the silliest enterprise that ever he heard of. +Why, did I not know, he asked me, that it was nothing but locks, locks, +locks, the whole way? not to mention that, at this season of the year, +we should find the Oise quite dry? ‘Get into a train, my +little young man,’ said he, I and go you away home to your parents.’ +I was so astounded at the man’s malice, that I could only stare +at him in silence. A tree would never have spoken to me like this. +At last I got out with some words. We had come from Antwerp already, +I told him, which was a good long way; and we should do the rest in +spite of him. Yes, I said, if there were no other reason, I would +do it now, just because he had dared to say we could not. The +pleasant old gentleman looked at me sneeringly, made an allusion to +my canoe, and marched of, waggling his head.<br> +<br> +I was still inwardly fuming, when up came a pair of young fellows, who +imagined I was the <i>Cigarette’s</i> servant, on a comparison, +I suppose, of my bare jersey with the other’s mackintosh, and +asked me many questions about my place and my master’s character. +I said he was a good enough fellow, but had this absurd voyage on the +head. ‘O no, no,’ said one, ‘you must not say +that; it is not absurd; it is very courageous of him.’ I +believe these were a couple of angels sent to give me heart again. +It was truly fortifying to reproduce all the old man’s insinuations, +as if they were original to me in my character of a malcontent footman, +and have them brushed away like so many flies by these admirable young +men.<br> +<br> +When I recounted this affair to the <i>Cigarette</i>, ‘They must +have a curious idea of how English servants behave,’ says he dryly, +‘for you treated me like a brute beast at the lock.’<br> +<br> +I was a good deal mortified; but my temper had suffered, it is a fact.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +AT LANDRECIES<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +At Landrecies the rain still fell and the wind still blew; but we found +a double-bedded room with plenty of furniture, real water-jugs with +real water in them, and dinner: a real dinner, not innocent of real +wine. After having been a pedlar for one night, and a butt for +the elements during the whole of the next day, these comfortable circumstances +fell on my heart like sunshine. There was an English fruiterer +at dinner, travelling with a Belgian fruiterer; in the evening at the +<i>café</i>, we watched our compatriot drop a good deal of money +at corks; and I don’t know why, but this pleased us.<br> +<br> +It turned out we were to see more of Landrecies than we expected; for +the weather next day was simply bedlamite. It is not the place +one would have chosen for a day’s rest; for it consists almost +entirely of fortifications. Within the ramparts, a few blocks +of houses, a long row of barracks, and a church, figure, with what countenance +they may, as the town. There seems to be no trade; and a shopkeeper +from whom I bought a sixpenny flint-and-steel, was so much affected +that he filled my pockets with spare flints into the bargain. +The only public buildings that had any interest for us were the hotel +and the <i>café</i>. But we visited the church. There +lies Marshal Clarke. But as neither of us had ever heard of that +military hero, we bore the associations of the spot with fortitude.<br> +<br> +In all garrison towns, guard-calls, and <i>réveilles</i>, and +such like, make a fine romantic interlude in civic business. Bugles, +and drums, and fifes, are of themselves most excellent things in nature; +and when they carry the mind to marching armies, and the picturesque +vicissitudes of war, they stir up something proud in the heart. +But in a shadow of a town like Landrecies, with little else moving, +these points of war made a proportionate commotion. Indeed, they +were the only things to remember. It was just the place to hear +the round going by at night in the darkness, with the solid tramp of +men marching, and the startling reverberations of the drum. It +reminded you, that even this place was a point in the great warfaring +system of Europe, and might on some future day be ringed about with +cannon smoke and thunder, and make itself a name among strong towns.<br> +<br> +The drum, at any rate, from its martial voice and notable physiological +effect, nay, even from its cumbrous and comical shape, stands alone +among the instruments of noise. And if it be true, as I have heard +it said, that drums are covered with asses’ skin, what a picturesque +irony is there in that! As if this long-suffering animal’s +hide had not been sufficiently belaboured during life, now by Lyonnese +costermongers, now by presumptuous Hebrew prophets, it must be stripped +from his poor hinder quarters after death, stretched on a drum, and +beaten night after night round the streets of every garrison town in +Europe. And up the heights of Alma and Spicheren, and wherever +death has his red flag a-flying, and sounds his own potent tuck upon +the cannons, there also must the drummer-boy, hurrying with white face +over fallen comrades, batter and bemaul this slip of skin from the loins +of peaceable donkeys.<br> +<br> +Generally a man is never more uselessly employed than when he is at +this trick of bastinadoing asses’ hide. We know what effect +it has in life, and how your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating. +But in this state of mummy and melancholy survival of itself, when the +hollow skin reverberates to the drummer’s wrist, and each dub-a-dub +goes direct to a man’s heart, and puts madness there, and that +disposition of the pulses which we, in our big way of talking, nickname +Heroism:- is there not something in the nature of a revenge upon the +donkey’s persecutors? Of old, he might say, you drubbed +me up hill and down dale, and I must endure; but now that I am dead, +those dull thwacks that were scarcely audible in country lanes, have +become stirring music in front of the brigade; and for every blow that +you lay on my old greatcoat, you will see a comrade stumble and fall.<br> +<br> +Not long after the drums had passed the <i>café</i>, the <i>Cigarette</i> +and the <i>Arethusa</i> began to grow sleepy, and set out for the hotel, +which was only a door or two away. But although we had been somewhat +indifferent to Landrecies, Landrecies had not been indifferent to us. +All day, we learned, people had been running out between the squalls +to visit our two boats. Hundreds of persons, so said report, although +it fitted ill with our idea of the town - hundreds of persons had inspected +them where they lay in a coal-shed. We were becoming lions in +Landrecies, who had been only pedlars the night before in Pont.<br> +<br> +And now, when we left the <i>café</i>, we were pursued and overtaken +at the hotel door by no less a person than the <i>Juge de Paix</i>: +a functionary, as far as I can make out, of the character of a Scots +Sheriff-Substitute. He gave us his card and invited us to sup +with him on the spot, very neatly, very gracefully, as Frenchmen can +do these things. It was for the credit of Landrecies, said he; +and although we knew very well how little credit we could do the place, +we must have been churlish fellows to refuse an invitation so politely +introduced.<br> +<br> +The house of the Judge was close by; it was a well-appointed bachelor’s +establishment, with a curious collection of old brass warming-pans upon +the walls. Some of these were most elaborately carved. It +seemed a picturesque idea for a collector. You could not help +thinking how many night-caps had wagged over these warming-pans in past +generations; what jests may have been made, and kisses taken, while +they were in service; and how often they had been uselessly paraded +in the bed of death. If they could only speak, at what absurd, +indecorous, and tragical scenes had they not been present!<br> +<br> +The wine was excellent. When we made the Judge our compliments +upon a bottle, ‘I do not give it you as my worst,’ said +he. I wonder when Englishmen will learn these hospitable graces. +They are worth learning; they set off life, and make ordinary moments +ornamental.<br> +<br> +There were two other Landrecienses present. One was the collector +of something or other, I forget what; the other, we were told, was the +principal notary of the place. So it happened that we all five +more or less followed the law. At this rate, the talk was pretty +certain to become technical. The <i>Cigarette</i> expounded the +Poor Laws very magisterially. And a little later I found myself +laying down the Scots Law of Illegitimacy, of which I am glad to say +I know nothing. The collector and the notary, who were both married +men, accused the Judge, who was a bachelor, of having started the subject. +He deprecated the charge, with a conscious, pleased air, just like all +the men I have ever seen, be they French or English. How strange +that we should all, in our unguarded moments, rather like to be thought +a bit of a rogue with the women!<br> +<br> +As the evening went on, the wine grew more to my taste; the spirits +proved better than the wine; the company was genial. This was +the highest water mark of popular favour on the whole cruise. +After all, being in a Judge’s house, was there not something semi-official +in the tribute? And so, remembering what a great country France +is, we did full justice to our entertainment. Landrecies had been +a long while asleep before we returned to the hotel; and the sentries +on the ramparts were already looking for daybreak.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +SAMBRE AND OISE CANAL<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CANAL BOATS<br> +<br> +<br> +Next day we made a late start in the rain. The Judge politely +escorted us to the end of the lock under an umbrella. We had now +brought ourselves to a pitch of humility in the matter of weather, not +often attained except in the Scottish Highlands. A rag of blue +sky or a glimpse of sunshine set our hearts singing; and when the rain +was not heavy, we counted the day almost fair.<br> +<br> +Long lines of barges lay one after another along the canal; many of +them looking mighty spruce and shipshape in their jerkin of Archangel +tar picked out with white and green. Some carried gay iron railings, +and quite a parterre of flower-pots. Children played on the decks, +as heedless of the rain as if they had been brought up on Loch Carron +side; men fished over the gunwale, some of them under umbrellas; women +did their washing; and every barge boasted its mongrel cur by way of +watch-dog. Each one barked furiously at the canoes, running alongside +until he had got to the end of his own ship, and so passing on the word +to the dog aboard the next. We must have seen something like a +hundred of these embarkations in the course of that day’s paddle, +ranged one after another like the houses in a street; and from not one +of them were we disappointed of this accompaniment. It was like +visiting a menagerie, the <i>Cigarette</i> remarked.<br> +<br> +These little cities by the canal side had a very odd effect upon the +mind. They seemed, with their flower-pots and smoking chimneys, +their washings and dinners, a rooted piece of nature in the scene; and +yet if only the canal below were to open, one junk after another would +hoist sail or harness horses and swim away into all parts of France; +and the impromptu hamlet would separate, house by house, to the four +winds. The children who played together to-day by the Sambre and +Oise Canal, each at his own father’s threshold, when and where +might they next meet?<br> +<br> +For some time past the subject of barges had occupied a great deal of +our talk, and we had projected an old age on the canals of Europe. +It was to be the most leisurely of progresses, now on a swift river +at the tail of a steam-boat, now waiting horses for days together on +some inconsiderable junction. We should be seen pottering on deck +in all the dignity of years, our white beards falling into our laps. +We were ever to be busied among paint-pots; so that there should be +no white fresher, and no green more emerald than ours, in all the navy +of the canals. There should be books in the cabin, and tobacco-jars, +and some old Burgundy as red as a November sunset and as odorous as +a violet in April. There should be a flageolet, whence the <i>Cigarette</i>, +with cunning touch, should draw melting music under the stars; or perhaps, +laying that aside, upraise his voice - somewhat thinner than of yore, +and with here and there a quaver, or call it a natural grace-note - +in rich and solemn psalmody.<br> +<br> +All this, simmering in my mind, set me wishing to go aboard one of these +ideal houses of lounging. I had plenty to choose from, as I coasted +one after another, and the dogs bayed at me for a vagrant. At +last I saw a nice old man and his wife looking at me with some interest, +so I gave them good-day and pulled up alongside. I began with +a remark upon their dog, which had somewhat the look of a pointer; thence +I slid into a compliment on Madame’s flowers, and thence into +a word in praise of their way of life.<br> +<br> +If you ventured on such an experiment in England you would get a slap +in the face at once. The life would be shown to be a vile one, +not without a side shot at your better fortune. Now, what I like +so much in France is the clear unflinching recognition by everybody +of his own luck. They all know on which side their bread is buttered, +and take a pleasure in showing it to others, which is surely the better +part of religion. And they scorn to make a poor mouth over their +poverty, which I take to be the better part of manliness. I have +heard a woman in quite a better position at home, with a good bit of +money in hand, refer to her own child with a horrid whine as ‘a +poor man’s child.’ I would not say such a thing to +the Duke of Westminster. And the French are full of this spirit +of independence. Perhaps it is the result of republican institutions, +as they call them. Much more likely it is because there are so +few people really poor, that the whiners are not enough to keep each +other in countenance.<br> +<br> +The people on the barge were delighted to hear that I admired their +state. They understood perfectly well, they told me, how Monsieur +envied them. Without doubt Monsieur was rich; and in that case +he might make a canal boat as pretty as a villa - <i>joli</i> <i>comme +un château</i>. And with that they invited me on board their +own water villa. They apologised for their cabin; they had not +been rich enough to make it as it ought to be.<br> +<br> +‘The fire should have been here, at this side.’ explained +the husband. ‘Then one might have a writing-table in the +middle - books - and’ (comprehensively) ‘all. It would +be quite coquettish - <i>ça serait tout-à-fait coquet</i>.’ +And he looked about him as though the improvements were already made. +It was plainly not the first time that he had thus beautified his cabin +in imagination; and when next he makes a bit, I should expect to see +the writing-table in the middle.<br> +<br> +Madame had three birds in a cage. They were no great thing, she +explained. Fine birds were so dear. They had sought to get +a <i>Hollandais</i> last winter in Rouen (Rouen? thought I; and is this +whole mansion, with its dogs and birds and smoking chimneys, so far +a traveller as that? and as homely an object among the cliffs and orchards +of the Seine as on the green plains of Sambre?) - they had sought to +get a <i>Hollandais</i> last winter in Rouen; but these cost fifteen +francs apiece - picture it - fifteen francs!<br> +<br> +‘<i>Pour un tout petit oiseau</i> - For quite a little bird,’ +added the husband.<br> +<br> +As I continued to admire, the apologetics died away, and the good people +began to brag of their barge, and their happy condition in life, as +if they had been Emperor and Empress of the Indies. It was, in +the Scots phrase, a good hearing, and put me in good humour with the +world. If people knew what an inspiriting thing it is to hear +a man boasting, so long as he boasts of what he really has, I believe +they would do it more freely and with a better grace.<br> +<br> +They began to ask about our voyage. You should have seen how they +sympathised. They seemed half ready to give up their barge and +follow us. But these <i>canaletti</i> are only gypsies semi-domesticated. +The semi-domestication came out in rather a pretty form. Suddenly +Madam’s brow darkened. ‘<i>Cependant</i>,’ she +began, and then stopped; and then began again by asking me if I were +single?<br> +<br> +‘Yes,’ said I.<br> +<br> +‘And your friend who went by just now?’<br> +<br> +He also was unmarried.<br> +<br> +O then - all was well. She could not have wives left alone at +home; but since there were no wives in the question, we were doing the +best we could.<br> +<br> +‘To see about one in the world,’ said the husband, <i>‘il +n’y a que</i> <i>ça</i> - there is nothing else worth while. +A man, look you, who sticks in his own village like a bear,’ he +went on, ‘ - very well, he sees nothing. And then death +is the end of all. And he has seen nothing.’<br> +<br> +Madame reminded her husband of an Englishman who had come up this canal +in a steamer.<br> +<br> +‘Perhaps Mr. Moens in the <i>Ytene</i>,’ I suggested.<br> +<br> +‘That’s it,’ assented the husband. ‘He +had his wife and family with him, and servants. He came ashore +at all the locks and asked the name of the villages, whether from boatmen +or lock-keepers; and then he wrote, wrote them down. Oh, he wrote +enormously! I suppose it was a wager.’<br> +<br> +A wager was a common enough explanation for our own exploits, but it +seemed an original reason for taking notes.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE OISE IN FLOOD<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Before nine next morning the two canoes were installed on a light country +cart at Étreux: and we were soon following them along the side +of a pleasant valley full of hop-gardens and poplars. Agreeable +villages lay here and there on the slope of the hill; notably, Tupigny, +with the hop-poles hanging their garlands in the very street, and the +houses clustered with grapes. There was a faint enthusiasm on +our passage; weavers put their heads to the windows; children cried +out in ecstasy at sight of the two ‘boaties’ - <i>barguettes</i>: +and bloused pedestrians, who were acquainted with our charioteer, jested +with him on the nature of his freight.<br> +<br> +We had a shower or two, but light and flying. The air was clean +and sweet among all these green fields and green things growing. +There was not a touch of autumn in the weather. And when, at Vadencourt, +we launched from a little lawn opposite a mill, the sun broke forth +and set all the leaves shining in the valley of the Oise.<br> +<br> +The river was swollen with the long rains. From Vadencourt all +the way to Origny, it ran with ever-quickening speed, taking fresh heart +at each mile, and racing as though it already smelt the sea. The +water was yellow and turbulent, swung with an angry eddy among half-submerged +willows, and made an angry clatter along stony shores. The course +kept turning and turning in a narrow and well-timbered valley. +Now the river would approach the side, and run griding along the chalky +base of the hill, and show us a few open colza-fields among the trees. +Now it would skirt the garden-walls of houses, where we might catch +a glimpse through a doorway, and see a priest pacing in the chequered +sunlight. Again, the foliage closed so thickly in front, that +there seemed to be no issue; only a thicket of willows, overtopped by +elms and poplars, under which the river ran flush and fleet, and where +a kingfisher flew past like a piece of the blue sky. On these +different manifestations the sun poured its clear and catholic looks. +The shadows lay as solid on the swift surface of the stream as on the +stable meadows. The light sparkled golden in the dancing poplar +leaves, and brought the hills into communion with our eyes. And +all the while the river never stopped running or took breath; and the +reeds along the whole valley stood shivering from top to toe.<br> +<br> +There should be some myth (but if there is, I know it not) founded on +the shivering of the reeds. There are not many things in nature +more striking to man’s eye. It is such an eloquent pantomime +of terror; and to see such a number of terrified creatures taking sanctuary +in every nook along the shore, is enough to infect a silly human with +alarm. Perhaps they are only a-cold, and no wonder, standing waist-deep +in the stream. Or perhaps they have never got accustomed to the +speed and fury of the river’s flux, or the miracle of its continuous +body. Pan once played upon their forefathers; and so, by the hands +of his river, he still plays upon these later generations down all the +valley of the Oise; and plays the same air, both sweet and shrill, to +tell us of the beauty and the terror of the world.<br> +<br> +The canoe was like a leaf in the current. It took it up and shook +it, and carried it masterfully away, like a Centaur carrying off a nymph. +To keep some command on our direction required hard and diligent plying +of the paddle. The river was in such a hurry for the sea! +Every drop of water ran in a panic, like as many people in a frightened +crowd. But what crowd was ever so numerous, or so single-minded? +All the objects of sight went by at a dance measure; the eyesight raced +with the racing river; the exigencies of every moment kept the pegs +screwed so tight, that our being quivered like a well-tuned instrument; +and the blood shook off its lethargy, and trotted through all the highways +and byways of the veins and arteries, and in and out of the heart, as +if circulation were but a holiday journey, and not the daily moil of +threescore years and ten. The reeds might nod their heads in warning, +and with tremulous gestures tell how the river was as cruel as it was +strong and cold, and how death lurked in the eddy underneath the willows. +But the reeds had to stand where they were; and those who stand still +are always timid advisers. As for us, we could have shouted aloud. +If this lively and beautiful river were, indeed, a thing of death’s +contrivance, the old ashen rogue had famously outwitted himself with +us. I was living three to the minute. I was scoring points +against him every stroke of my paddle, every turn of the stream. +I have rarely had better profit of my life.<br> +<br> +For I think we may look upon our little private war with death somewhat +in this light. If a man knows he will sooner or later be robbed +upon a journey, he will have a bottle of the best in every inn, and +look upon all his extravagances as so much gained upon the thieves. +And above all, where instead of simply spending, he makes a profitable +investment for some of his money, when it will be out of risk of loss. +So every bit of brisk living, and above all when it is healthful, is +just so much gained upon the wholesale filcher, death. We shall +have the less in our pockets, the more in our stomach, when he cries +stand and deliver. A swift stream is a favourite artifice of his, +and one that brings him in a comfortable thing per annum; but when he +and I come to settle our accounts, I shall whistle in his face for these +hours upon the upper Oise.<br> +<br> +Towards afternoon we got fairly drunken with the sunshine and the exhilaration +of the pace. We could no longer contain ourselves and our content. +The canoes were too small for us; we must be out and stretch ourselves +on shore. And so in a green meadow we bestowed our limbs on the +grass, and smoked deifying tobacco and proclaimed the world excellent. +It was the last good hour of the day, and I dwell upon it with extreme +complacency.<br> +<br> +On one side of the valley, high up on the chalky summit of the hill, +a ploughman with his team appeared and disappeared at regular intervals. +At each revelation he stood still for a few seconds against the sky: +for all the world (as the <i>Cigarette</i> declared) like a toy Burns +who should have just ploughed up the Mountain Daisy. He was the +only living thing within view, unless we are to count the river.<br> +<br> +On the other side of the valley a group of red roofs and a belfry showed +among the foliage. Thence some inspired bell-ringer made the afternoon +musical on a chime of bells. There was something very sweet and +taking in the air he played; and we thought we had never heard bells +speak so intelligibly, or sing so melodiously, as these. It must +have been to some such measure that the spinners and the young maids +sang, ‘Come away, Death,’ in the Shakespearian Illyria. +There is so often a threatening note, something blatant and metallic, +in the voice of bells, that I believe we have fully more pain than pleasure +from hearing them; but these, as they sounded abroad, now high, now +low, now with a plaintive cadence that caught the ear like the burthen +of a popular song, were always moderate and tunable, and seemed to fall +in with the spirit of still, rustic places, like the noise of a waterfall +or the babble of a rookery in spring. I could have asked the bell-ringer +for his blessing, good, sedate old man, who swung the rope so gently +to the time of his meditations. I could have blessed the priest +or the heritors, or whoever may be concerned with such affairs in France, +who had left these sweet old bells to gladden the afternoon, and not +held meetings, and made collections, and had their names repeatedly +printed in the local paper, to rig up a peal of brand-new, brazen, Birmingham-hearted +substitutes, who should bombard their sides to the provocation of a +brand-new bell-ringer, and fill the echoes of the valley with terror +and riot.<br> +<br> +At last the bells ceased, and with their note the sun withdrew. +The piece was at an end; shadow and silence possessed the valley of +the Oise. We took to the paddle with glad hearts, like people +who have sat out a noble performance and returned to work. The +river was more dangerous here; it ran swifter, the eddies were more +sudden and violent. All the way down we had had our fill of difficulties. +Sometimes it was a weir which could be shot, sometimes one so shallow +and full of stakes that we must withdraw the boats from the water and +carry them round. But the chief sort of obstacle was a consequence +of the late high winds. Every two or three hundred yards a tree +had fallen across the river, and usually involved more than another +in its fall.<br> +<br> +Often there was free water at the end, and we could steer round the +leafy promontory and hear the water sucking and bubbling among the twigs. +Often, again, when the tree reached from bank to bank, there was room, +by lying close, to shoot through underneath, canoe and all. Sometimes +it was necessary to get out upon the trunk itself and pull the boats +across; and sometimes, when the stream was too impetuous for this, there +was nothing for it but to land and ‘carry over.’ This +made a fine series of accidents in the day’s career, and kept +us aware of ourselves.<br> +<br> +Shortly after our re-embarkation, while I was leading by a long way, +and still full of a noble, exulting spirit in honour of the sun, the +swift pace, and the church bells, the river made one of its leonine +pounces round a corner, and I was aware of another fallen tree within +a stone-cast. I had my backboard down in a trice, and aimed for +a place where the trunk seemed high enough above the water, and the +branches not too thick to let me slip below. When a man has just +vowed eternal brotherhood with the universe, he is not in a temper to +take great determinations coolly, and this, which might have been a +very important determination for me, had not been taken under a happy +star. The tree caught me about the chest, and while I was yet +struggling to make less of myself and get through, the river took the +matter out of my hands, and bereaved me of my boat. The <i>Arethusa</i> +swung round broadside on, leaned over, ejected so much of me as still +remained on board, and thus disencumbered, whipped under the tree, righted, +and went merrily away down stream.<br> +<br> +I do not know how long it was before I scrambled on to the tree to which +I was left clinging, but it was longer than I cared about. My +thoughts were of a grave and almost sombre character, but I still clung +to my paddle. The stream ran away with my heels as fast as I could +pull up my shoulders, and I seemed, by the weight, to have all the water +of the Oise in my trousers-pockets. You can never know, till you +try it, what a dead pull a river makes against a man. Death himself +had me by the heels, for this was his last ambuscado, and he must now +join personally in the fray. And still I held to my paddle. +At last I dragged myself on to my stomach on the trunk, and lay there +a breathless sop, with a mingled sense of humour and injustice. +A poor figure I must have presented to Burns upon the hill-top with +his team. But there was the paddle in my hand. On my tomb, +if ever I have one, I mean to get these words inscribed: ‘He clung +to his paddle.’<br> +<br> +The<i> Cigarette</i> had gone past a while before; for, as I might have +observed, if I had been a little less pleased with the universe at the +moment, there was a clear way round the tree-top at the farther side. +He had offered his services to haul me out, but as I was then already +on my elbows, I had declined, and sent him down stream after the truant +<i>Arethusa</i>. The stream was too rapid for a man to mount with +one canoe, let alone two, upon his hands. So I crawled along the +trunk to shore, and proceeded down the meadows by the river-side. +I was so cold that my heart was sore. I had now an idea of my +own why the reeds so bitterly shivered. I could have given any +of them a lesson. The <i>Cigarette</i> remarked facetiously that +he thought I was ‘taking exercise’ as I drew near, until +he made out for certain that I was only twittering with cold. +I had a rub down with a towel, and donned a dry suit from the india-rubber +bag. But I was not my own man again for the rest of the voyage. +I had a queasy sense that I wore my last dry clothes upon my body. +The struggle had tired me; and perhaps, whether I knew it or not, I +was a little dashed in spirit. The devouring element in the universe +had leaped out against me, in this green valley quickened by a running +stream. The bells were all very pretty in their way, but I had +heard some of the hollow notes of Pan’s music. Would the +wicked river drag me down by the heels, indeed? and look so beautiful +all the time? Nature’s good-humour was only skin-deep after +all.<br> +<br> +There was still a long way to go by the winding course of the stream, +and darkness had fallen, and a late bell was ringing in Origny Sainte-Benoîte, +when we arrived.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ORIGNY SAINTE-BENOÎTE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A BY-DAY<br> +<br> +<br> +The next day was Sunday, and the church bells had little rest; indeed, +I do not think I remember anywhere else so great a choice of services +as were here offered to the devout. And while the bells made merry +in the sunshine, all the world with his dog was out shooting among the +beets and colza.<br> +<br> +In the morning a hawker and his wife went down the street at a foot-pace, +singing to a very slow, lamentable music ‘<i>O France, mes amours</i>.’ +It brought everybody to the door; and when our landlady called in the +man to buy the words, he had not a copy of them left. She was +not the first nor the second who had been taken with the song. +There is something very pathetic in the love of the French people, since +the war, for dismal patriotic music-making. I have watched a forester +from Alsace while some one was singing ‘<i>Les malheurs de la +France</i>,’ at a baptismal party in the neighbourhood of Fontainebleau. +He arose from the table and took his son aside, close by where I was +standing. ‘Listen, listen,’ he said, bearing on the +boy’s shoulder, ‘and remember this, my son.’ +A little after he went out into the garden suddenly, and I could hear +him sobbing in the darkness.<br> +<br> +The humiliation of their arms and the loss of Alsace and Lorraine made +a sore pull on the endurance of this sensitive people; and their hearts +are still hot, not so much against Germany as against the Empire. +In what other country will you find a patriotic ditty bring all the +world into the street? But affliction heightens love; and we shall +never know we are Englishmen until we have lost India. Independent +America is still the cross of my existence; I cannot think of Farmer +George without abhorrence; and I never feel more warmly to my own land +than when I see the Stars and Stripes, and remember what our empire +might have been.<br> +<br> +The hawker’s little book, which I purchased, was a curious mixture. +Side by side with the flippant, rowdy nonsense of the Paris music-halls, +there were many pastoral pieces, not without a touch of poetry, I thought, +and instinct with the brave independence of the poorer class in France. +There you might read how the wood-cutter gloried in his axe, and the +gardener scorned to be ashamed of his spade. It was not very well +written, this poetry of labour, but the pluck of the sentiment redeemed +what was weak or wordy in the expression. The martial and the +patriotic pieces, on the other hand, were tearful, womanish productions +one and all. The poet had passed under the Caudine Forks; he sang +for an army visiting the tomb of its old renown, with arms reversed; +and sang not of victory, but of death. There was a number in the +hawker’s collection called ‘Conscrits Français,’ +which may rank among the most dissuasive war-lyrics on record. +It would not be possible to fight at all in such a spirit. The +bravest conscript would turn pale if such a ditty were struck up beside +him on the morning of battle; and whole regiments would pile their arms +to its tune.<br> +<br> +If Fletcher of Saltoun is in the right about the influence of national +songs, you would say France was come to a poor pass. But the thing +will work its own cure, and a sound-hearted and courageous people weary +at length of snivelling over their disasters. Already Paul Déroulède +has written some manly military verses. There is not much of the +trumpet note in them, perhaps, to stir a man’s heart in his bosom; +they lack the lyrical elation, and move slowly; but they are written +in a grave, honourable, stoical spirit, which should carry soldiers +far in a good cause. One feels as if one would like to trust Déroulède +with something. It will be happy if he can so far inoculate his +fellow-countrymen that they may be trusted with their own future. +And in the meantime, here is an antidote to ‘French Conscripts’ +and much other doleful versification.<br> +<br> +We had left the boats over-night in the custody of one whom we shall +call Carnival. I did not properly catch his name, and perhaps +that was not unfortunate for him, as I am not in a position to hand +him down with honour to posterity. To this person’s premises +we strolled in the course of the day, and found quite a little deputation +inspecting the canoes. There was a stout gentleman with a knowledge +of the river, which he seemed eager to impart. There was a very +elegant young gentleman in a black coat, with a smattering of English, +who led the talk at once to the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race. +And then there were three handsome girls from fifteen to twenty; and +an old gentleman in a blouse, with no teeth to speak of, and a strong +country accent. Quite the pick of Origny, I should suppose.<br> +<br> +The<i> Cigarette</i> had some mysteries to perform with his rigging +in the coach-house; so I was left to do the parade single-handed. +I found myself very much of a hero whether I would or not. The +girls were full of little shudderings over the dangers of our journey. +And I thought it would be ungallant not to take my cue from the ladies. +My mishap of yesterday, told in an off-hand way, produced a deep sensation. +It was Othello over again, with no less than three Desdemonas and a +sprinkling of sympathetic senators in the background. Never were +the canoes more flattered, or flattered more adroitly.<br> +<br> +‘It is like a violin,’ cried one of the girls in an ecstasy.<br> +<br> +‘I thank you for the word, mademoiselle,’ said I. +‘All the more since there are people who call out to me that it +is like a coffin.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh! but it is really like a violin. It is finished like +a violin,’ she went on.<br> +<br> +‘And polished like a violin,’ added a senator.<br> +<br> +‘One has only to stretch the cords,’ concluded another, +‘and then tum-tumty-tum’ - he imitated the result with spirit.<br> +<br> +Was not this a graceful little ovation? Where this people finds +the secret of its pretty speeches, I cannot imagine; unless the secret +should be no other than a sincere desire to please? But then no disgrace +is attached in France to saying a thing neatly; whereas in England, +to talk like a book is to give in one’s resignation to society.<br> +<br> +The old gentleman in the blouse stole into the coach-house, and somewhat +irrelevantly informed the<i> Cigarette</i> that he was the father of +the three girls and four more: quite an exploit for a Frenchman.<br> +<br> +‘You are very fortunate,’ answered the <i>Cigarette</i> +politely.<br> +<br> +And the old gentleman, having apparently gained his point, stole away +again.<br> +<br> +We all got very friendly together. The girls proposed to start +with us on the morrow, if you please! And, jesting apart, every +one was anxious to know the hour of our departure. Now, when you +are going to crawl into your canoe from a bad launch, a crowd, however +friendly, is undesirable; and so we told them not before twelve, and +mentally determined to be off by ten at latest.<br> +<br> +Towards evening, we went abroad again to post some letters. It +was cool and pleasant; the long village was quite empty, except for +one or two urchins who followed us as they might have followed a menagerie; +the hills and the tree-tops looked in from all sides through the clear +air; and the bells were chiming for yet another service.<br> +<br> +Suddenly we sighted the three girls standing, with a fourth sister, +in front of a shop on the wide selvage of the roadway. We had +been very merry with them a little while ago, to be sure. But +what was the etiquette of Origny? Had it been a country road, +of course we should have spoken to them; but here, under the eyes of +all the gossips, ought we to do even as much as bow? I consulted +the<i> Cigarette.<br> +<br> +</i>‘Look,’ said he.<br> +<br> +I looked. There were the four girls on the same spot; but now +four backs were turned to us, very upright and conscious. Corporal +Modesty had given the word of command, and the well-disciplined picket +had gone right-about-face like a single person. They maintained +this formation all the while we were in sight; but we heard them tittering +among themselves, and the girl whom we had not met laughed with open +mouth, and even looked over her shoulder at the enemy. I wonder +was it altogether modesty after all? or in part a sort of country provocation?<br> +<br> +As we were returning to the inn, we beheld something floating in the +ample field of golden evening sky, above the chalk cliffs and the trees +that grow along their summit. It was too high up, too large, and +too steady for a kite; and as it was dark, it could not be a star. +For although a star were as black as ink and as rugged as a walnut, +so amply does the sun bathe heaven with radiance, that it would sparkle +like a point of light for us. The village was dotted with people +with their heads in air; and the children were in a bustle all along +the street and far up the straight road that climbs the hill, where +we could still see them running in loose knots. It was a balloon, +we learned, which had left Saint Quentin at half-past five that evening. +Mighty composedly the majority of the grown people took it. But +we were English, and were soon running up the hill with the best. +Being travellers ourselves in a small way, we would fain have seen these +other travellers alight.<br> +<br> +The spectacle was over by the time we gained the top of the hill. +All the gold had withered out of the sky, and the balloon had disappeared. +Whither? I ask myself; caught up into the seventh heaven? or come safely +to land somewhere in that blue uneven distance, into which the roadway +dipped and melted before our eyes? Probably the aeronauts were +already warming themselves at a farm chimney, for they say it is cold +in these unhomely regions of the air. The night fell swiftly. +Roadside trees and disappointed sightseers, returning through the meadows, +stood out in black against a margin of low red sunset. It was +cheerfuller to face the other way, and so down the hill we went, with +a full moon, the colour of a melon, swinging high above the wooded valley, +and the white cliffs behind us faintly reddened by the fire of the chalk +kilns.<br> +<br> +The lamps were lighted, and the salads were being made in Origny Sainte-Benoîte +by the river.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ORIGNY SAINTE-BENOÎTE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE COMPANY AT TABLE<br> +<br> +<br> +Although we came late for dinner, the company at table treated us to +sparkling wine. ‘That is how we are in France,’ said +one. ‘Those who sit down with us are our friends.’ +And the rest applauded.<br> +<br> +They were three altogether, and an odd trio to pass the Sunday with.<br> +<br> +Two of them were guests like ourselves, both men of the north. +One ruddy, and of a full habit of body, with copious black hair and +beard, the intrepid hunter of France, who thought nothing so small, +not even a lark or a minnow, but he might vindicate his prowess by its +capture. For such a great, healthy man, his hair flourishing like +Samson’s, his arteries running buckets of red blood, to boast +of these infinitesimal exploits, produced a feeling of disproportion +in the world, as when a steam-hammer is set to cracking nuts. +The other was a quiet, subdued person, blond and lymphatic and sad, +with something the look of a Dane: <i>‘Tristes têtes de +Danois</i>!’ as Gaston Lafenestre used to say.<br> +<br> +I must not let that name go by without a word for the best of all good +fellows now gone down into the dust. We shall never again see +Gaston in his forest costume - he was Gaston with all the world, in +affection, not in disrespect - nor hear him wake the echoes of Fontainebleau +with the woodland horn. Never again shall his kind smile put peace +among all races of artistic men, and make the Englishman at home in +France. Never more shall the sheep, who were not more innocent +at heart than he, sit all unconsciously for his industrious pencil. +He died too early, at the very moment when he was beginning to put forth +fresh sprouts, and blossom into something worthy of himself; and yet +none who knew him will think he lived in vain. I never knew a +man so little, for whom yet I had so much affection; and I find it a +good test of others, how much they had learned to understand and value +him. His was indeed a good influence in life while he was still +among us; he had a fresh laugh, it did you good to see him; and however +sad he may have been at heart, he always bore a bold and cheerful countenance, +and took fortune’s worst as it were the showers of spring. +But now his mother sits alone by the side of Fontainebleau woods, where +he gathered mushrooms in his hardy and penurious youth.<br> +<br> +Many of his pictures found their way across the Channel: besides those +which were stolen, when a dastardly Yankee left him alone in London +with two English pence, and perhaps twice as many words of English. +If any one who reads these lines should have a scene of sheep, in the +manner of Jacques, with this fine creature’s signature, let him +tell himself that one of the kindest and bravest of men has lent a hand +to decorate his lodging. There may be better pictures in the National +Gallery; but not a painter among the generations had a better heart. +Precious in the sight of the Lord of humanity, the Psalms tell us, is +the death of his saints. It had need to be precious; for it is +very costly, when by the stroke, a mother is left desolate, and the +peace-maker, and <i>peace-looker</i>, of a whole society is laid in +the ground with Caesar and the Twelve Apostles.<br> +<br> +There is something lacking among the oaks of Fontainebleau; and when +the dessert comes in at Barbizon, people look to the door for a figure +that is gone.<br> +<br> +The third of our companions at Origny was no less a person than the +landlady’s husband: not properly the landlord, since he worked +himself in a factory during the day, and came to his own house at evening +as a guest: a man worn to skin and bone by perpetual excitement, with +baldish head, sharp features, and swift, shining eyes. On Saturday, +describing some paltry adventure at a duck-hunt, he broke a plate into +a score of fragments. Whenever he made a remark, he would look +all round the table with his chin raised, and a spark of green light +in either eye, seeking approval. His wife appeared now and again +in the doorway of the room, where she was superintending dinner, with +a ‘Henri, you forget yourself,’ or a ‘Henri, you can +surely talk without making such a noise.’ Indeed, that was +what the honest fellow could not do. On the most trifling matter +his eyes kindled, his fist visited the table, and his voice rolled abroad +in changeful thunder. I never saw such a petard of a man; I think +the devil was in him. He had two favourite expressions: ‘it +is logical,’ or illogical, as the case might be: and this other, +thrown out with a certain bravado, as a man might unfurl a banner, at +the beginning of many a long and sonorous story: ‘I am a proletarian, +you see.’ Indeed, we saw it very well. God forbid +that ever I should find him handling a gun in Paris streets! That +will not be a good moment for the general public.<br> +<br> +I thought his two phrases very much represented the good and evil of +his class, and to some extent of his country. It is a strong thing +to say what one is, and not be ashamed of it; even although it be in +doubtful taste to repeat the statement too often in one evening. +I should not admire it in a duke, of course; but as times go, the trait +is honourable in a workman. On the other hand, it is not at all +a strong thing to put one’s reliance upon logic; and our own logic +particularly, for it is generally wrong. We never know where we +are to end, if once we begin following words or doctors. There +is an upright stock in a man’s own heart, that is trustier than +any syllogism; and the eyes, and the sympathies and appetites, know +a thing or two that have never yet been stated in controversy. +Reasons are as plentiful as blackberries; and, like fisticuffs, they +serve impartially with all sides. Doctrines do not stand or fall +by their proofs, and are only logical in so far as they are cleverly +put. An able controversialist no more than an able general demonstrates +the justice of his cause. But France is all gone wandering after +one or two big words; it will take some time before they can be satisfied +that they are no more than words, however big; and when once that is +done, they will perhaps find logic less diverting.<br> +<br> +The conversation opened with details of the day’s shooting. +When all the sportsmen of a village shoot over the village territory +<i>pro indiviso</i>, it is plain that many questions of etiquette and +priority must arise.<br> +<br> +‘Here now,’ cried the landlord, brandishing a plate, ‘here +is a field of beet-root. Well. Here am I then. I advance, +do I not? <i>Eh bien! sacristi</i>,’ and the statement, +waxing louder, rolls off into a reverberation of oaths, the speaker +glaring about for sympathy, and everybody nodding his head to him in +the name of peace.<br> +<br> +The ruddy Northman told some tales of his own prowess in keeping order: +notably one of a Marquis.<br> +<br> +‘Marquis,’ I said, ‘if you take another step I fire +upon you. You have committed a dirtiness, Marquis.’<br> +<br> +Whereupon, it appeared, the Marquis touched his cap and withdrew.<br> +<br> +The landlord applauded noisily. ‘It was well done,’ +he said. ‘He did all that he could. He admitted he +was wrong.’ And then oath upon oath. He was no marquis-lover +either, but he had a sense of justice in him, this proletarian host +of ours.<br> +<br> +From the matter of hunting, the talk veered into a general comparison +of Paris and the country. The proletarian beat the table like +a drum in praise of Paris. ‘What is Paris? Paris is +the cream of France. There are no Parisians: it is you and I and +everybody who are Parisians. A man has eighty chances per cent. +to get on in the world in Paris.’ And he drew a vivid sketch +of the workman in a den no bigger than a dog-hutch, making articles +that were to go all over the world. ‘<i>Eh bien, quoi, c’est +magnifique</i>, <i>ca</i>!’ cried he.<br> +<br> +The sad Northman interfered in praise of a peasant’s life; he +thought Paris bad for men and women; ‘<i>centralisation</i>,’ +said he -<br> +<br> +But the landlord was at his throat in a moment. It was all logical, +he showed him; and all magnificent. ‘What a spectacle! +What a glance for an eye!’ And the dishes reeled upon the +table under a cannonade of blows.<br> +<br> +Seeking to make peace, I threw in a word in praise of the liberty of +opinion in France. I could hardly have shot more amiss. +There was an instant silence, and a great wagging of significant heads. +They did not fancy the subject, it was plain; but they gave me to understand +that the sad Northman was a martyr on account of his views. ‘Ask +him a bit,’ said they. ‘Just ask him.’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, sir,’ said he in his quiet way, answering me, although +I had not spoken, ‘I am afraid there is less liberty of opinion +in France than you may imagine.’ And with that he dropped +his eyes, and seemed to consider the subject at an end.<br> +<br> +Our curiosity was mightily excited at this. How, or why, or when, +was this lymphatic bagman martyred? We concluded at once it was +on some religious question, and brushed up our memories of the Inquisition, +which were principally drawn from Poe’s horrid story, and the +sermon in <i>Tristram Shandy</i>, I believe.<br> +<br> +On the morrow we had an opportunity of going further into the question; +for when we rose very early to avoid a sympathising deputation at our +departure, we found the hero up before us. He was breaking his +fast on white wine and raw onions, in order to keep up the character +of martyr, I conclude. We had a long conversation, and made out +what we wanted in spite of his reserve. But here was a truly curious +circumstance. It seems possible for two Scotsmen and a Frenchman +to discuss during a long half-hour, and each nationality have a different +idea in view throughout. It was not till the very end that we +discovered his heresy had been political, or that he suspected our mistake. +The terms and spirit in which he spoke of his political beliefs were, +in our eyes, suited to religious beliefs. And <i>vice versâ.<br> +<br> +</i>Nothing could be more characteristic of the two countries. +Politics are the religion of France; as Nanty Ewart would have said, +‘A d-d bad religion’; while we, at home, keep most of our +bitterness for little differences about a hymn-book, or a Hebrew word +which perhaps neither of the parties can translate. And perhaps +the misconception is typical of many others that may never be cleared +up: not only between people of different race, but between those of +different sex.<br> +<br> +As for our friend’s martyrdom, he was a Communist, or perhaps +only a Communard, which is a very different thing; and had lost one +or more situations in consequence. I think he had also been rejected +in marriage; but perhaps he had a sentimental way of considering business +which deceived me. He was a mild, gentle creature, anyway; and +I hope he has got a better situation, and married a more suitable wife +since then.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +DOWN THE OISE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +TO MOY<br> +<br> +<br> +Carnival notoriously cheated us at first. Finding us easy in our +ways, he regretted having let us off so cheaply; and taking me aside, +told me a cock-and-bull story with the moral of another five francs +for the narrator. The thing was palpably absurd; but I paid up, +and at once dropped all friendliness of manner, and kept him in his +place as an inferior with freezing British dignity. He saw in +a moment that he had gone too far, and killed a willing horse; his face +fell; I am sure he would have refunded if he could only have thought +of a decent pretext. He wished me to drink with him, but I would +none of his drinks. He grew pathetically tender in his professions; +but I walked beside him in silence or answered him in stately courtesies; +and when we got to the landing-place, passed the word in English slang +to the <i>Cigarette.<br> +<br> +</i>In spite of the false scent we had thrown out the day before, there +must have been fifty people about the bridge. We were as pleasant +as we could be with all but Carnival. We said good-bye, shaking +hands with the old gentleman who knew the river and the young gentleman +who had a smattering of English; but never a word for Carnival. +Poor Carnival! here was a humiliation. He who had been so much +identified with the canoes, who had given orders in our name, who had +shown off the boats and even the boatmen like a private exhibition of +his own, to be now so publicly shamed by the lions of his caravan! +I never saw anybody look more crestfallen than he. He hung in +the background, coming timidly forward ever and again as he thought +he saw some symptom of a relenting humour, and falling hurriedly back +when he encountered a cold stare. Let us hope it will be a lesson +to him.<br> +<br> +I would not have mentioned Carnival’s peccadillo had not the thing +been so uncommon in France. This, for instance, was the only case +of dishonesty or even sharp practice in our whole voyage. We talk +very much about our honesty in England. It is a good rule to be +on your guard wherever you hear great professions about a very little +piece of virtue. If the English could only hear how they are spoken +of abroad, they might confine themselves for a while to remedying the +fact; and perhaps even when that was done, give us fewer of their airs.<br> +<br> +The young ladies, the graces of Origny, were not present at our start, +but when we got round to the second bridge, behold, it was black with +sightseers! We were loudly cheered, and for a good way below, +young lads and lasses ran along the bank still cheering. What +with current and paddling, we were flashing along like swallows. +It was no joke to keep up with us upon the woody shore. But the +girls picked up their skirts, as if they were sure they had good ankles, +and followed until their breath was out. The last to weary were +the three graces and a couple of companions; and just as they too had +had enough, the foremost of the three leaped upon a tree-stump and kissed +her hand to the canoeists. Not Diana herself, although this was +more of a Venus after all, could have done a graceful thing more gracefully. +‘Come back again!’ she cried; and all the others echoed +her; and the hills about Origny repeated the words, ‘Come back.’ +But the river had us round an angle in a twinkling, and we were alone +with the green trees and running water.<br> +<br> +Come back? There is no coming back, young ladies, on the impetuous +stream of life.<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The merchant bows unto the seaman’s star,<br> +The ploughman from the sun his season takes.’<br> +<br> +<br> +And we must all set our pocket-watches by the clock of fate. There +is a headlong, forthright tide, that bears away man with his fancies +like a straw, and runs fast in time and space. It is full of curves +like this, your winding river of the Oise; and lingers and returns in +pleasant pastorals; and yet, rightly thought upon, never returns at +all. For though it should revisit the same acre of meadow in the +same hour, it will have made an ample sweep between-whiles; many little +streams will have fallen in; many exhalations risen towards the sun; +and even although it were the same acre, it will no more be the same +river of Oise. And thus, O graces of Origny, although the wandering +fortune of my life should carry me back again to where you await death’s +whistle by the river, that will not be the old I who walks the street; +and those wives and mothers, say, will those be you?<br> +<br> +There was never any mistake about the Oise, as a matter of fact. +In these upper reaches it was still in a prodigious hurry for the sea. +It ran so fast and merrily, through all the windings of its channel, +that I strained my thumb, fighting with the rapids, and had to paddle +all the rest of the way with one hand turned up. Sometimes it +had to serve mills; and being still a little river, ran very dry and +shallow in the meanwhile. We had to put our legs out of the boat, +and shove ourselves off the sand of the bottom with our feet. +And still it went on its way singing among the poplars, and making a +green valley in the world. After a good woman, and a good book, +and tobacco, there is nothing so agreeable on earth as a river. +I forgave it its attempt on my life; which was after all one part owing +to the unruly winds of heaven that had blown down the tree, one part +to my own mismanagement, and only a third part to the river itself, +and that not out of malice, but from its great preoccupation over its +business of getting to the sea. A difficult business, too; for +the détours it had to make are not to be counted. The geographers +seem to have given up the attempt; for I found no map represent the +infinite contortion of its course. A fact will say more than any +of them. After we had been some hours, three if I mistake not, +flitting by the trees at this smooth, break-neck gallop, when we came +upon a hamlet and asked where we were, we had got no farther than four +kilometres (say two miles and a half) from Origny. If it were +not for the honour of the thing (in the Scots saying), we might almost +as well have been standing still.<br> +<br> +We lunched on a meadow inside a parallelogram of poplars. The +leaves danced and prattled in the wind all round about us. The +river hurried on meanwhile, and seemed to chide at our delay. +Little we cared. The river knew where it was going; not so we: +the less our hurry, where we found good quarters and a pleasant theatre +for a pipe. At that hour, stockbrokers were shouting in Paris +Bourse for two or three per cent.; but we minded them as little as the +sliding stream, and sacrificed a hecatomb of minutes to the gods of +tobacco and digestion. Hurry is the resource of the faithless. +Where a man can trust his own heart, and those of his friends, to-morrow +is as good as to-day. And if he die in the meanwhile, why then, +there he dies, and the question is solved.<br> +<br> +We had to take to the canal in the course of the afternoon; because, +where it crossed the river, there was, not a bridge, but a siphon. +If it had not been for an excited fellow on the bank, we should have +paddled right into the siphon, and thenceforward not paddled any more. +We met a man, a gentleman, on the tow-path, who was much interested +in our cruise. And I was witness to a strange seizure of lying +suffered by the <i>Cigarette</i>: who, because his knife came from Norway, +narrated all sorts of adventures in that country, where he has never +been. He was quite feverish at the end, and pleaded demoniacal +possession.<br> +<br> +Moy (pronounce Moÿ) was a pleasant little village, gathered round +a château in a moat. The air was perfumed with hemp from +neighbouring fields. At the Golden Sheep we found excellent entertainment. +German shells from the siege of La Fère, Nürnberg figures, +gold-fish in a bowl, and all manner of knick-knacks, embellished the +public room. The landlady was a stout, plain, short-sighted, motherly +body, with something not far short of a genius for cookery. She +had a guess of her excellence herself. After every dish was sent +in, she would come and look on at the dinner for a while, with puckered, +blinking eyes. ‘<i>C’est</i> <i>bon, n’est-ce +pas</i>?’ she would say; and when she had received a proper answer, +she disappeared into the kitchen. That common French dish, partridge +and cabbages, became a new thing in my eyes at the Golden Sheep; and +many subsequent dinners have bitterly disappointed me in consequence. +Sweet was our rest in the Golden Sheep at Moy.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +LA FÈRE OF CURSED MEMORY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +We lingered in Moy a good part of the day, for we were fond of being +philosophical, and scorned long journeys and early starts on principle. +The place, moreover, invited to repose. People in elaborate shooting +costumes sallied from the château with guns and game-bags; and +this was a pleasure in itself, to remain behind while these elegant +pleasure-seekers took the first of the morning. In this way, all +the world may be an aristocrat, and play the duke among marquises, and +the reigning monarch among dukes, if he will only outvie them in tranquillity. +An imperturbable demeanour comes from perfect patience. Quiet +minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune +at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.<br> +<br> +We made a very short day of it to La Fère; but the dusk was falling, +and a small rain had begun before we stowed the boats. La Fère +is a fortified town in a plain, and has two belts of rampart. +Between the first and the second extends a region of waste land and +cultivated patches. Here and there along the wayside were posters +forbidding trespass in the name of military engineering. At last, +a second gateway admitted us to the town itself. Lighted windows +looked gladsome, whiffs of comfortable cookery came abroad upon the +air. The town was full of the military reserve, out for the French +Autumn Manoeuvres, and the reservists walked speedily and wore their +formidable great-coats. It was a fine night to be within doors +over dinner, and hear the rain upon the windows.<br> +<br> +The<i> Cigarette</i> and I could not sufficiently congratulate each +other on the prospect, for we had been told there was a capital inn +at La Fère. Such a dinner as we were going to eat! such +beds as we were to sleep in! - and all the while the rain raining on +houseless folk over all the poplared countryside! It made our +mouths water. The inn bore the name of some woodland animal, stag, +or hart, or hind, I forget which. But I shall never forget how +spacious and how eminently habitable it looked as we drew near. +The carriage entry was lighted up, not by intention, but from the mere +superfluity of fire and candle in the house. A rattle of many +dishes came to our ears; we sighted a great field of table-cloth; the +kitchen glowed like a forge and smelt like a garden of things to eat.<br> +<br> +Into this, the inmost shrine and physiological heart of a hostelry, +with all its furnaces in action, and all its dressers charged with viands, +you are now to suppose us making our triumphal entry, a pair of damp +rag-and-bone men, each with a limp india-rubber bag upon his arm. +I do not believe I have a sound view of that kitchen; I saw it through +a sort of glory: but it seemed to me crowded with the snowy caps of +cookmen, who all turned round from their saucepans and looked at us +with surprise. There was no doubt about the landlady, however: +there she was, heading her army, a flushed, angry woman, full of affairs. +Her I asked politely - too politely, thinks the <i>Cigarette</i> - if +we could have beds: she surveying us coldly from head to foot.<br> +<br> +‘You will find beds in the suburb,’ she remarked. +‘We are too busy for the like of you.’<br> +<br> +If we could make an entrance, change our clothes, and order a bottle +of wine, I felt sure we could put things right; so said I: ‘If +we cannot sleep, we may at least dine,’ - and was for depositing +my bag.<br> +<br> +What a terrible convulsion of nature was that which followed in the +landlady’s face! She made a run at us, and stamped her foot.<br> +<br> +‘Out with you - out of the door!’ she screeched. ‘<i>Sortez! +sortez! sortez par la porte</i>!’<br> +<br> +I do not know how it happened, but next moment we were out in the rain +and darkness, and I was cursing before the carriage entry like a disappointed +mendicant. Where were the boating men of Belgium? where the Judge +and his good wines? and where the graces of Origny? Black, black +was the night after the firelit kitchen; but what was that to the blackness +in our heart? This was not the first time that I have been refused +a lodging. Often and often have I planned what I should do if +such a misadventure happened to me again. And nothing is easier +to plan. But to put in execution, with the heart boiling at the +indignity? Try it; try it only once; and tell me what you did.<br> +<br> +It is all very fine to talk about tramps and morality. Six hours +of police surveillance (such as I have had), or one brutal rejection +from an inn-door, change your views upon the subject like a course of +lectures. As long as you keep in the upper regions, with all the +world bowing to you as you go, social arrangements have a very handsome +air; but once get under the wheels, and you wish society were at the +devil. I will give most respectable men a fortnight of such a +life, and then I will offer them twopence for what remains of their +morality.<br> +<br> +For my part, when I was turned out of the Stag, or the Hind, or whatever +it was, I would have set the temple of Diana on fire, if it had been +handy. There was no crime complete enough to express my disapproval +of human institutions. As for the <i>Cigarette</i>, I never knew +a man so altered. ‘We have been taken for pedlars again,’ +said he. ‘Good God, what it must be to be a pedlar in reality!’ +He particularised a complaint for every joint in the landlady’s +body. Timon was a philanthropist alongside of him. And then, +when he was at the top of his maledictory bent, he would suddenly break +away and begin whimperingly to commiserate the poor. ‘I +hope to God,’ he said, - and I trust the prayer was answered, +- ‘that I shall never be uncivil to a pedlar.’ Was +this the imperturbable <i>Cigarette</i>? This, this was he. +O change beyond report, thought, or belief!<br> +<br> +Meantime the heaven wept upon our heads; and the windows grew brighter +as the night increased in darkness. We trudged in and out of La +Fère streets; we saw shops, and private houses where people were +copiously dining; we saw stables where carters’ nags had plenty +of fodder and clean straw; we saw no end of reservists, who were very +sorry for themselves this wet night, I doubt not, and yearned for their +country homes; but had they not each man his place in La Fère +barracks? And we, what had we?<br> +<br> +There seemed to be no other inn in the whole town. People gave +us directions, which we followed as best we could, generally with the +effect of bringing us out again upon the scene of our disgrace. +We were very sad people indeed by the time we had gone all over La Fère; +and the <i>Cigarette</i> had already made up his mind to lie under a +poplar and sup off a loaf of bread. But right at the other end, +the house next the town-gate was full of light and bustle. ‘<i>Bazin, +aubergiste, loge à pied</i>,’ was the sign. ‘<i>À</i> +<i>la Croix de Malte</i>.’ There were we received.<br> +<br> +The room was full of noisy reservists drinking and smoking; and we were +very glad indeed when the drums and bugles began to go about the streets, +and one and all had to snatch shakoes and be off for the barracks.<br> +<br> +Bazin was a tall man, running to fat: soft-spoken, with a delicate, +gentle face. We asked him to share our wine; but he excused himself, +having pledged reservists all day long. This was a very different +type of the workman-innkeeper from the bawling disputatious fellow at +Origny. He also loved Paris, where he had worked as a decorative +painter in his youth. There were such opportunities for self-instruction +there, he said. And if any one has read Zola’s description +of the workman’s marriage-party visiting the Louvre, they would +do well to have heard Bazin by way of antidote. He had delighted +in the museums in his youth. ‘One sees there little miracles +of work,’ he said; ‘that is what makes a good workman; it +kindles a spark.’ We asked him how he managed in La Fère. +‘I am married,’ he said, ‘and I have my pretty children. +But frankly, it is no life at all. From morning to night I pledge +a pack of good enough fellows who know nothing.’<br> +<br> +It faired as the night went on, and the moon came out of the clouds. +We sat in front of the door, talking softly with Bazin. At the +guard-house opposite, the guard was being for ever turned out, as trains +of field artillery kept clanking in out of the night, or patrols of +horsemen trotted by in their cloaks. Madame Bazin came out after +a while; she was tired with her day’s work, I suppose; and she +nestled up to her husband and laid her head upon his breast. He +had his arm about her, and kept gently patting her on the shoulder. +I think Bazin was right, and he was really married. Of how few +people can the same be said!<br> +<br> +Little did the Bazins know how much they served us. We were charged +for candles, for food and drink, and for the beds we slept in. +But there was nothing in the bill for the husband’s pleasant talk; +nor for the pretty spectacle of their married life. And there +was yet another item unchanged. For these people’s politeness +really set us up again in our own esteem. We had a thirst for +consideration; the sense of insult was still hot in our spirits; and +civil usage seemed to restore us to our position in the world.<br> +<br> +How little we pay our way in life! Although we have our purses +continually in our hand, the better part of service goes still unrewarded. +But I like to fancy that a grateful spirit gives as good as it gets. +Perhaps the Bazins knew how much I liked them? perhaps they also were +healed of some slights by the thanks that I gave them in my manner?<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +DOWN THE OISE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THROUGH THE GOLDEN VALLEY<br> +<br> +<br> +Below La Fère the river runs through a piece of open pastoral +country; green, opulent, loved by breeders; called the Golden Valley. +In wide sweeps, and with a swift and equable gallop, the ceaseless stream +of water visits and makes green the fields. Kine, and horses, +and little humorous donkeys, browse together in the meadows, and come +down in troops to the river-side to drink. They make a strange +feature in the landscape; above all when they are startled, and you +see them galloping to and fro with their incongruous forms and faces. +It gives a feeling as of great, unfenced pampas, and the herds of wandering +nations. There were hills in the distance upon either hand; and +on one side, the river sometimes bordered on the wooded spurs of Coucy +and St. Gobain.<br> +<br> +The artillery were practising at La Fère; and soon the cannon +of heaven joined in that loud play. Two continents of cloud met +and exchanged salvos overhead; while all round the horizon we could +see sunshine and clear air upon the hills. What with the guns +and the thunder, the herds were all frightened in the Golden Valley. +We could see them tossing their heads, and running to and fro in timorous +indecision; and when they had made up their minds, and the donkey followed +the horse, and the cow was after the donkey, we could hear their hooves +thundering abroad over the meadows. It had a martial sound, like +cavalry charges. And altogether, as far as the ears are concerned, +we had a very rousing battle-piece performed for our amusement.<br> +<br> +At last the guns and the thunder dropped off; the sun shone on the wet +meadows; the air was scented with the breath of rejoicing trees and +grass; and the river kept unweariedly carrying us on at its best pace. +There was a manufacturing district about Chauny; and after that the +banks grew so high that they hid the adjacent country, and we could +see nothing but clay sides, and one willow after another. Only, +here and there, we passed by a village or a ferry, and some wondering +child upon the bank would stare after us until we turned the corner. +I daresay we continued to paddle in that child’s dreams for many +a night after.<br> +<br> +Sun and shower alternated like day and night, making the hours longer +by their variety. When the showers were heavy, I could feel each +drop striking through my jersey to my warm skin; and the accumulation +of small shocks put me nearly beside myself. I decided I should +buy a mackintosh at Noyon. It is nothing to get wet; but the misery +of these individual pricks of cold all over my body at the same instant +of time made me flail the water with my paddle like a madman. +The <i>Cigarette</i> was greatly amused by these ebullitions. +It gave him something else to look at besides clay banks and willows.<br> +<br> +All the time, the river stole away like a thief in straight places, +or swung round corners with an eddy; the willows nodded, and were undermined +all day long; the clay banks tumbled in; the Oise, which had been so +many centuries making the Golden Valley, seemed to have changed its +fancy, and be bent upon undoing its performance. What a number +of things a river does, by simply following Gravity in the innocence +of its heart!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +NOYON CATHEDRAL<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Noyon stands about a mile from the river, in a little plain surrounded +by wooded hills, and entirely covers an eminence with its tile roofs, +surmounted by a long, straight-backed cathedral with two stiff towers. +As we got into the town, the tile roofs seemed to tumble uphill one +upon another, in the oddest disorder; but for all their scrambling, +they did not attain above the knees of the cathedral, which stood, upright +and solemn, over all. As the streets drew near to this presiding +genius, through the market-place under the Hôtel de Ville, they +grew emptier and more composed. Blank walls and shuttered windows +were turned to the great edifice, and grass grew on the white causeway. +‘Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou +standest is holy ground.’ The Hôtel du Nord, nevertheless, +lights its secular tapers within a stone-cast of the church; and we +had the superb east-end before our eyes all morning from the window +of our bedroom. I have seldom looked on the east-end of a church +with more complete sympathy. As it flanges out in three wide terraces +and settles down broadly on the earth, it looks like the poop of some +great old battle-ship. Hollow-backed buttresses carry vases, which +figure for the stern lanterns. There is a roll in the ground, +and the towers just appear above the pitch of the roof, as though the +good ship were bowing lazily over an Atlantic swell. At any moment +it might be a hundred feet away from you, climbing the next billow. +At any moment a window might open, and some old admiral thrust forth +a cocked hat, and proceed to take an observation. The old admirals +sail the sea no longer; the old ships of battle are all broken up, and +live only in pictures; but this, that was a church before ever they +were thought upon, is still a church, and makes as brave an appearance +by the Oise. The cathedral and the river are probably the two +oldest things for miles around; and certainly they have both a grand +old age.<br> +<br> +The Sacristan took us to the top of one of the towers, and showed us +the five bells hanging in their loft. From above, the town was +a tesselated pavement of roofs and gardens; the old line of rampart +was plainly traceable; and the Sacristan pointed out to us, far across +the plain, in a bit of gleaming sky between two clouds, the towers of +Château Coucy.<br> +<br> +I find I never weary of great churches. It is my favourite kind +of mountain scenery. Mankind was never so happily inspired as +when it made a cathedral: a thing as single and specious as a statue +to the first glance, and yet, on examination, as lively and interesting +as a forest in detail. The height of spires cannot be taken by +trigonometry; they measure absurdly short, but how tall they are to +the admiring eye! And where we have so many elegant proportions, +growing one out of the other, and all together into one, it seems as +if proportion transcended itself, and became something different and +more imposing. I could never fathom how a man dares to lift up +his voice to preach in a cathedral. What is he to say that will +not be an anti-climax? For though I have heard a considerable +variety of sermons, I never yet heard one that was so expressive as +a cathedral. ’Tis the best preacher itself, and preaches +day and night; not only telling you of man’s art and aspirations +in the past, but convicting your own soul of ardent sympathies; or rather, +like all good preachers, it sets you preaching to yourself; - and every +man is his own doctor of divinity in the last resort.<br> +<br> +As I sat outside of the hotel in the course of the afternoon, the sweet +groaning thunder of the organ floated out of the church like a summons. +I was not averse, liking the theatre so well, to sit out an act or two +of the play, but I could never rightly make out the nature of the service +I beheld. Four or five priests and as many choristers were singing +<i>Miserere</i> before the high altar when I went in. There was +no congregation but a few old women on chairs and old men kneeling on +the pavement. After a while a long train of young girls, walking +two and two, each with a lighted taper in her hand, and all dressed +in black with a white veil, came from behind the altar, and began to +descend the nave; the four first carrying a Virgin and child upon a +table. The priests and choristers arose from their knees and followed +after, singing ‘Ave Mary’ as they went. In this order +they made the circuit of the cathedral, passing twice before me where +I leaned against a pillar. The priest who seemed of most consequence +was a strange, down-looking old man. He kept mumbling prayers +with his lips; but as he looked upon me darkling, it did not seem as +if prayer were uppermost in his heart. Two others, who bore the +burthen of the chaunt, were stout, brutal, military-looking men of forty, +with bold, over-fed eyes; they sang with some lustiness, and trolled +forth ‘Ave Mary’ like a garrison catch. The little +girls were timid and grave. As they footed slowly up the aisle, +each one took a moment’s glance at the Englishman; and the big +nun who played marshal fairly stared him out of countenance. As +for the choristers, from first to last they misbehaved as only boys +can misbehave; and cruelly marred the performance with their antics.<br> +<br> +I understood a great deal of the spirit of what went on. Indeed +it would be difficult not to understand the <i>Miserere</i>, which I +take to be the composition of an atheist. If it ever be a good +thing to take such despondency to heart, the <i>Miserere</i> is the +right music, and a cathedral a fit scene. So far I am at one with +the Catholics:- an odd name for them, after all? But why, in God’s +name, these holiday choristers? why these priests who steal wandering +looks about the congregation while they feign to be at prayer? why this +fat nun, who rudely arranges her procession and shakes delinquent virgins +by the elbow? why this spitting, and snuffing, and forgetting of keys, +and the thousand and one little misadventures that disturb a frame of +mind laboriously edified with chaunts and organings? In any play-house +reverend fathers may see what can be done with a little art, and how, +to move high sentiments, it is necessary to drill the supernumeraries +and have every stool in its proper place.<br> +<br> +One other circumstance distressed me. I could bear a <i>Miserere</i> +myself, having had a good deal of open-air exercise of late; but I wished +the old people somewhere else. It was neither the right sort of +music nor the right sort of divinity for men and women who have come +through most accidents by this time, and probably have an opinion of +their own upon the tragic element in life. A person up in years +can generally do his own <i>Miserere</i> for himself; although I notice +that such an one often prefers <i>Jubilate Deo</i> for his ordinary +singing. On the whole, the most religious exercise for the aged +is probably to recall their own experience; so many friends dead, so +many hopes disappointed, so many slips and stumbles, and withal so many +bright days and smiling providences; there is surely the matter of a +very eloquent sermon in all this.<br> +<br> +On the whole, I was greatly solemnised. In the little pictorial +map of our whole Inland Voyage, which my fancy still preserves, and +sometimes unrolls for the amusement of odd moments, Noyon cathedral +figures on a most preposterous scale, and must be nearly as large as +a department. I can still see the faces of the priests as if they +were at my elbow, and hear <i>Ave Maria, ora pro nobis</i>, sounding +through the church. All Noyon is blotted out for me by these superior +memories; and I do not care to say more about the place. It was +but a stack of brown roofs at the best, where I believe people live +very reputably in a quiet way; but the shadow of the church falls upon +it when the sun is low, and the five bells are heard in all quarters, +telling that the organ has begun. If ever I join the Church of +Rome, I shall stipulate to be Bishop of Noyon on the Oise.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +DOWN THE OISE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +TO COMPIÈGNE<br> +<br> +<br> +The most patient people grow weary at last with being continually wetted +with rain; except of course in the Scottish Highlands, where there are +not enough fine intervals to point the difference. That was like +to be our case, the day we left Noyon. I remember nothing of the +voyage; it was nothing but clay banks and willows, and rain; incessant, +pitiless, beating rain; until we stopped to lunch at a little inn at +Pimprez, where the canal ran very near the river. We were so sadly +drenched that the landlady lit a few sticks in the chimney for our comfort; +there we sat in a steam of vapour, lamenting our concerns. The +husband donned a game-bag and strode out to shoot; the wife sat in a +far corner watching us. I think we were worth looking at. +We grumbled over the misfortune of La Fère; we forecast other +La Fères in the future; - although things went better with the +<i>Cigarette</i> for spokesman; he had more aplomb altogether than I; +and a dull, positive way of approaching a landlady that carried off +the india-rubber bags. Talking of La Fère put us talking +of the reservists.<br> +<br> +‘Reservery,’ said he, ‘seems a pretty mean way to +spend ones autumn holiday.’<br> +<br> +‘About as mean,’ returned I dejectedly, ‘as canoeing.’<br> +<br> +‘These gentlemen travel for their pleasure?’ asked the landlady, +with unconscious irony.<br> +<br> +It was too much. The scales fell from our eyes. Another +wet day, it was determined, and we put the boats into the train.<br> +<br> +The weather took the hint. That was our last wetting. The +afternoon faired up: grand clouds still voyaged in the sky, but now +singly, and with a depth of blue around their path; and a sunset in +the daintiest rose and gold inaugurated a thick night of stars and a +month of unbroken weather. At the same time, the river began to +give us a better outlook into the country. The banks were not +so high, the willows disappeared from along the margin, and pleasant +hills stood all along its course and marked their profile on the sky.<br> +<br> +In a little while the canal, coming to its last lock, began to discharge +its water-houses on the Oise; so that we had no lack of company to fear. +Here were all our old friends; the <i>Deo Gratias</i> of Condé +and the <i>Four</i> <i>Sons of Aymon</i> journeyed cheerily down stream +along with us; we exchanged waterside pleasantries with the steersman +perched among the lumber, or the driver hoarse with bawling to his horses; +and the children came and looked over the side as we paddled by. +We had never known all this while how much we missed them; but it gave +us a fillip to see the smoke from their chimneys.<br> +<br> +A little below this junction we made another meeting of yet more account. +For there we were joined by the Aisne, already a far-travelled river +and fresh out of Champagne. Here ended the adolescence of the +Oise; this was his marriage day; thenceforward he had a stately, brimming +march, conscious of his own dignity and sundry dams. He became +a tranquil feature in the scene. The trees and towns saw themselves +in him, as in a mirror. He carried the canoes lightly on his broad +breast; there was no need to work hard against an eddy: but idleness +became the order of the day, and mere straightforward dipping of the +paddle, now on this side, now on that, without intelligence or effort. +Truly we were coming into halcyon weather upon all accounts, and were +floated towards the sea like gentlemen.<br> +<br> +We made Compiègne as the sun was going down: a fine profile of +a town above the river. Over the bridge, a regiment was parading +to the drum. People loitered on the quay, some fishing, some looking +idly at the stream. And as the two boats shot in along the water, +we could see them pointing them out and speaking one to another. +We landed at a floating lavatory, where the washerwomen were still beating +the clothes.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +AT COMPIÈGNE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +We put up at a big, bustling hotel in Compiègne, where nobody +observed our presence.<br> +<br> +Reservery and general <i>militarismus</i> (as the Germans call it) were +rampant. A camp of conical white tents without the town looked +like a leaf out of a picture Bible; sword-belts decorated the walls +of the <i>cafés</i>; and the streets kept sounding all day long +with military music. It was not possible to be an Englishman and +avoid a feeling of elation; for the men who followed the drums were +small, and walked shabbily. Each man inclined at his own angle, +and jolted to his own convenience, as he went. There was nothing +of the superb gait with which a regiment of tall Highlanders moves behind +its music, solemn and inevitable, like a natural phenomenon. Who +that has seen it can forget the drum-major pacing in front, the drummers’ +tiger-skins, the pipers’ swinging plaids, the strange elastic +rhythm of the whole regiment footing it in time - and the bang of the +drum, when the brasses cease, and the shrill pipes take up the martial +story in their place?<br> +<br> +A girl, at school in France, began to describe one of our regiments +on parade to her French schoolmates; and as she went on, she told me, +the recollection grew so vivid, she became so proud to be the countrywoman +of such soldiers, and so sorry to be in another country, that her voice +failed her and she burst into tears. I have never forgotten that +girl; and I think she very nearly deserves a statue. To call her +a young lady, with all its niminy associations, would be to offer her +an insult. She may rest assured of one thing: although she never +should marry a heroic general, never see any great or immediate result +of her life, she will not have lived in vain for her native land.<br> +<br> +But though French soldiers show to ill advantage on parade, on the march +they are gay, alert, and willing like a troop of fox-hunters. +I remember once seeing a company pass through the forest of Fontainebleau, +on the Chailly road, between the Bas Bréau and the Reine Blanche. +One fellow walked a little before the rest, and sang a loud, audacious +marching song. The rest bestirred their feet, and even swung their +muskets in time. A young officer on horseback had hard ado to +keep his countenance at the words. You never saw anything so cheerful +and spontaneous as their gait; schoolboys do not look more eagerly at +hare and hounds; and you would have thought it impossible to tire such +willing marchers.<br> +<br> +My great delight in Compiègne was the town-hall. I doted +upon the town-hall. It is a monument of Gothic insecurity, all +turreted, and gargoyled, and slashed, and bedizened with half a score +of architectural fancies. Some of the niches are gilt and painted; +and in a great square panel in the centre, in black relief on a gilt +ground, Louis XII. rides upon a pacing horse, with hand on hip and head +thrown back. There is royal arrogance in every line of him; the +stirruped foot projects insolently from the frame; the eye is hard and +proud; the very horse seems to be treading with gratification over prostrate +serfs, and to have the breath of the trumpet in his nostrils. +So rides for ever, on the front of the town-hall, the good king Louis +XII., the father of his people.<br> +<br> +Over the king’s head, in the tall centre turret, appears the dial +of a clock; and high above that, three little mechanical figures, each +one with a hammer in his hand, whose business it is to chime out the +hours and halves and quarters for the burgesses of Compiègne. +The centre figure has a gilt breast-plate; the two others wear gilt +trunk-hose; and they all three have elegant, flapping hats like cavaliers. +As the quarter approaches, they turn their heads and look knowingly +one to the other; and then, <i>kling</i> go the three hammers on three +little bells below. The hour follows, deep and sonorous, from +the interior of the tower; and the gilded gentlemen rest from their +labours with contentment.<br> +<br> +I had a great deal of healthy pleasure from their manoeuvres, and took +good care to miss as few performances as possible; and I found that +even the <i>Cigarette</i>, while he pretended to despise my enthusiasm, +was more or less a devotee himself. There is something highly +absurd in the exposition of such toys to the outrages of winter on a +housetop. They would be more in keeping in a glass case before +a Nürnberg clock. Above all, at night, when the children +are abed, and even grown people are snoring under quilts, does it not +seem impertinent to leave these ginger-bread figures winking and tinkling +to the stars and the rolling moon? The gargoyles may fitly enough +twist their ape-like heads; fitly enough may the potentate bestride +his charger, like a centurion in an old German print of the <i>Via Dolorosa</i>; +but the toys should be put away in a box among some cotton, until the +sun rises, and the children are abroad again to be amused.<br> +<br> +In Compiègne post-office a great packet of letters awaited us; +and the authorities were, for this occasion only, so polite as to hand +them over upon application.<br> +<br> +In some ways, our journey may be said to end with this letter-bag at +Compiègne. The spell was broken. We had partly come +home from that moment.<br> +<br> +No one should have any correspondence on a journey; it is bad enough +to have to write; but the receipt of letters is the death of all holiday +feeling.<br> +<br> +‘Out of my country and myself I go.’ I wish to take +a dive among new conditions for a while, as into another element. +I have nothing to do with my friends or my affections for the time; +when I came away, I left my heart at home in a desk, or sent it forward +with my portmanteau to await me at my destination. After my journey +is over, I shall not fail to read your admirable letters with the attention +they deserve. But I have paid all this money, look you, and paddled +all these strokes, for no other purpose than to be abroad; and yet you +keep me at home with your perpetual communications. You tug the +string, and I feel that I am a tethered bird. You pursue me all +over Europe with the little vexations that I came away to avoid. +There is no discharge in the war of life, I am well aware; but shall +there not be so much as a week’s furlough?<br> +<br> +We were up by six, the day we were to leave. They had taken so +little note of us that I hardly thought they would have condescended +on a bill. But they did, with some smart particulars too; and +we paid in a civilised manner to an uninterested clerk, and went out +of that hotel, with the india-rubber bags, unremarked. No one +cared to know about us. It is not possible to rise before a village; +but Compiègne was so grown a town, that it took its ease in the +morning; and we were up and away while it was still in dressing-gown +and slippers. The streets were left to people washing door-steps; +nobody was in full dress but the cavaliers upon the town-hall; they +were all washed with dew, spruce in their gilding, and full of intelligence +and a sense of professional responsibility. <i>Kling</i> went +they on the bells for the half-past six as we went by. I took +it kind of them to make me this parting compliment; they never were +in better form, not even at noon upon a Sunday.<br> +<br> +There was no one to see us off but the early washerwomen - early and +late - who were already beating the linen in their floating lavatory +on the river. They were very merry and matutinal in their ways; +plunged their arms boldly in, and seemed not to feel the shock. +It would be dispiriting to me, this early beginning and first cold dabble +of a most dispiriting day’s work. But I believe they would +have been as unwilling to change days with us as we could be to change +with them. They crowded to the door to watch us paddle away into +the thin sunny mists upon the river; and shouted heartily after us till +we were through the bridge.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHANGED TIMES<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +There is a sense in which those mists never rose from off our journey; +and from that time forth they lie very densely in my note-book. +As long as the Oise was a small rural river, it took us near by people’s +doors, and we could hold a conversation with natives in the riparian +fields. But now that it had grown so wide, the life along shore +passed us by at a distance. It was the same difference as between +a great public highway and a country by-path that wanders in and out +of cottage gardens. We now lay in towns, where nobody troubled +us with questions; we had floated into civilised life, where people +pass without salutation. In sparsely inhabited places, we make +all we can of each encounter; but when it comes to a city, we keep to +ourselves, and never speak unless we have trodden on a man’s toes. +In these waters we were no longer strange birds, and nobody supposed +we had travelled farther than from the last town. I remember, +when we came into L’Isle Adam, for instance, how we met dozens +of pleasure-boats outing it for the afternoon, and there was nothing +to distinguish the true voyager from the amateur, except, perhaps, the +filthy condition of my sail. The company in one boat actually +thought they recognised me for a neighbour. Was there ever anything +more wounding? All the romance had come down to that. Now, +on the upper Oise, where nothing sailed as a general thing but fish, +a pair of canoeists could not be thus vulgarly explained away; we were +strange and picturesque intruders; and out of people’s wonder +sprang a sort of light and passing intimacy all along our route. +There is nothing but tit-for-tat in this world, though sometimes it +be a little difficult to trace: for the scores are older than we ourselves, +and there has never yet been a settling-day since things were. +You get entertainment pretty much in proportion as you give. As +long as we were a sort of odd wanderers, to be stared at and followed +like a quack doctor or a caravan, we had no want of amusement in return; +but as soon as we sank into commonplace ourselves, all whom we met were +similarly disenchanted. And here is one reason of a dozen, why +the world is dull to dull persons.<br> +<br> +In our earlier adventures there was generally something to do, and that +quickened us. Even the showers of rain had a revivifying effect, +and shook up the brain from torpor. But now, when the river no +longer ran in a proper sense, only glided seaward with an even, outright, +but imperceptible speed, and when the sky smiled upon us day after day +without variety, we began to slip into that golden doze of the mind +which follows upon much exercise in the open air. I have stupefied +myself in this way more than once; indeed, I dearly love the feeling; +but I never had it to the same degree as when paddling down the Oise. +It was the apotheosis of stupidity.<br> +<br> +We ceased reading entirely. Sometimes when I found a new paper, +I took a particular pleasure in reading a single number of the current +novel; but I never could bear more than three instalments; and even +the second was a disappointment. As soon as the tale became in +any way perspicuous, it lost all merit in my eyes; only a single scene, +or, as is the way with these <i>feuilletons</i>, half a scene, without +antecedent or consequence, like a piece of a dream, had the knack of +fixing my interest. The less I saw of the novel, the better I +liked it: a pregnant reflection. But for the most part, as I said, +we neither of us read anything in the world, and employed the very little +while we were awake between bed and dinner in poring upon maps. +I have always been fond of maps, and can voyage in an atlas with the +greatest enjoyment. The names of places are singularly inviting; +the contour of coasts and rivers is enthralling to the eye; and to hit, +in a map, upon some place you have heard of before, makes history a +new possession. But we thumbed our charts, on these evenings, +with the blankest unconcern. We cared not a fraction for this +place or that. We stared at the sheet as children listen to their +rattle; and read the names of towns or villages to forget them again +at once. We had no romance in the matter; there was nobody so +fancy-free. If you had taken the maps away while we were studying +them most intently, it is a fair bet whether we might not have continued +to study the table with the same delight.<br> +<br> +About one thing we were mightily taken up, and that was eating. +I think I made a god of my belly. I remember dwelling in imagination +upon this or that dish till my mouth watered; and long before we got +in for the night my appetite was a clamant, instant annoyance. +Sometimes we paddled alongside for a while and whetted each other with +gastronomical fancies as we went. Cake and sherry, a homely rejection, +but not within reach upon the Oise, trotted through my head for many +a mile; and once, as we were approaching Verberie, the <i>Cigarette</i> +brought my heart into my mouth by the suggestion of oyster-patties and +Sauterne.<br> +<br> +I suppose none of us recognise the great part that is played in life +by eating and drinking. The appetite is so imperious that we can +stomach the least interesting viands, and pass off a dinner-hour thankfully +enough on bread and water; just as there are men who must read something, +if it were only<i> Bradshaw’s Guide</i>. But there is a +romance about the matter after all. Probably the table has more +devotees than love; and I am sure that food is much more generally entertaining +than scenery. Do you give in, as Walt Whitman would say, that +you are any the less immortal for that? The true materialism is +to be ashamed of what we are. To detect the flavour of an olive +is no less a piece of human perfection than to find beauty in the colours +of the sunset.<br> +<br> +Canoeing was easy work. To dip the paddle at the proper inclination, +now right, now left; to keep the head down stream; to empty the little +pool that gathered in the lap of the apron; to screw up the eyes against +the glittering sparkles of sun upon the water; or now and again to pass +below the whistling tow-rope of the <i>Deo Gratias</i> of Condé, +or the <i>Four Sons of Aymon</i> - there was not much art in that; certain +silly muscles managed it between sleep and waking; and meanwhile the +brain had a whole holiday, and went to sleep. We took in, at a +glance, the larger features of the scene; and beheld, with half an eye, +bloused fishers and dabbling washerwomen on the bank. Now and +again we might be half-wakened by some church spire, by a leaping fish, +or by a trail of river grass that clung about the paddle and had to +be plucked off and thrown away. But these luminous intervals were +only partially luminous. A little more of us was called into action, +but never the whole. The central bureau of nerves, what in some +moods we call Ourselves, enjoyed its holiday without disturbance, like +a Government Office. The great wheels of intelligence turned idly +in the head, like fly-wheels, grinding no grist. I have gone on +for half an hour at a time, counting my strokes and forgetting the hundreds. +I flatter myself the beasts that perish could not underbid that, as +a low form of consciousness. And what a pleasure it was! +What a hearty, tolerant temper did it bring about! There is nothing +captious about a man who has attained to this, the one possible apotheosis +in life, the Apotheosis of Stupidity; and he begins to feel dignified +and longaevous like a tree.<br> +<br> +There was one odd piece of practical metaphysics which accompanied what +I may call the depth, if I must not call it the intensity, of my abstraction. +What philosophers call <i>me</i> and <i>not-me, ego</i> and <i>non</i> +<i>ego</i>, preoccupied me whether I would or no. There was less +<i>me</i> and more <i>not-me</i> than I was accustomed to expect. +I looked on upon somebody else, who managed the paddling; I was aware +of somebody else’s feet against the stretcher; my own body seemed +to have no more intimate relation to me than the canoe, or the river, +or the river banks. Nor this alone: something inside my mind, +a part of my brain, a province of my proper being, had thrown off allegiance +and set up for itself, or perhaps for the somebody else who did the +paddling. I had dwindled into quite a little thing in a corner +of myself. I was isolated in my own skull. Thoughts presented +themselves unbidden; they were not my thoughts, they were plainly some +one else’s; and I considered them like a part of the landscape. +I take it, in short, that I was about as near Nirvana as would be convenient +in practical life; and if this be so, I make the Buddhists my sincere +compliments; ’tis an agreeable state, not very consistent with +mental brilliancy, not exactly profitable in a money point of view, +but very calm, golden, and incurious, and one that sets a man superior +to alarms. It may be best figured by supposing yourself to get +dead drunk, and yet keep sober to enjoy it. I have a notion that +open-air labourers must spend a large portion of their days in this +ecstatic stupor, which explains their high composure and endurance. +A pity to go to the expense of laudanum, when here is a better paradise +for nothing!<br> +<br> +This frame of mind was the great exploit of our voyage, take it all +in all. It was the farthest piece of travel accomplished. +Indeed, it lies so far from beaten paths of language, that I despair +of getting the reader into sympathy with the smiling, complacent idiocy +of my condition; when ideas came and went like motes in a sunbeam; when +trees and church spires along the bank surged up, from time to time +into my notice, like solid objects through a rolling cloudland; when +the rhythmical swish of boat and paddle in the water became a cradle-song +to lull my thoughts asleep; when a piece of mud on the deck was sometimes +an intolerable eyesore, and sometimes quite a companion for me, and +the object of pleased consideration; - and all the time, with the river +running and the shores changing upon either hand, I kept counting my +strokes and forgetting the hundreds, the happiest animal in France.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +DOWN THE OISE: CHURCH INTERIORS<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +We made our first stage below Compiègne to Pont Sainte Maxence. +I was abroad a little after six the next morning. The air was +biting, and smelt of frost. In an open place a score of women +wrangled together over the day’s market; and the noise of their +negotiation sounded thin and querulous like that of sparrows on a winter’s +morning. The rare passengers blew into their hands, and shuffled +in their wooden shoes to set the blood agog. The streets were +full of icy shadow, although the chimneys were smoking overhead in golden +sunshine. If you wake early enough at this season of the year, +you may get up in December to break your fast in June.<br> +<br> +I found my way to the church; for there is always something to see about +a church, whether living worshippers or dead men’s tombs; you +find there the deadliest earnest, and the hollowest deceit; and even +where it is not a piece of history, it will be certain to leak out some +contemporary gossip. It was scarcely so cold in the church as +it was without, but it looked colder. The white nave was positively +arctic to the eye; and the tawdriness of a continental altar looked +more forlorn than usual in the solitude and the bleak air. Two +priests sat in the chancel, reading and waiting penitents; and out in +the nave, one very old woman was engaged in her devotions. It +was a wonder how she was able to pass her beads when healthy young people +were breathing in their palms and slapping their chest; but though this +concerned me, I was yet more dispirited by the nature of her exercises. +She went from chair to chair, from altar to altar, circumnavigating +the church. To each shrine she dedicated an equal number of beads +and an equal length of time. Like a prudent capitalist with a +somewhat cynical view of the commercial prospect, she desired to place +her supplications in a great variety of heavenly securities. She +would risk nothing on the credit of any single intercessor. Out +of the whole company of saints and angels, not one but was to suppose +himself her champion elect against the Great Assize! I could only +think of it as a dull, transparent jugglery, based upon unconscious +unbelief.<br> +<br> +She was as dead an old woman as ever I saw; no more than bone and parchment, +curiously put together. Her eyes, with which she interrogated +mine, were vacant of sense. It depends on what you call seeing, +whether you might not call her blind. Perhaps she had known love: +perhaps borne children, suckled them and given them pet names. +But now that was all gone by, and had left her neither happier nor wiser; +and the best she could do with her mornings was to come up here into +the cold church and juggle for a slice of heaven. It was not without +a gulp that I escaped into the streets and the keen morning air. +Morning? why, how tired of it she would be before night! and if she +did not sleep, how then? It is fortunate that not many of us are +brought up publicly to justify our lives at the bar of threescore years +and ten; fortunate that such a number are knocked opportunely on the +head in what they call the flower of their years, and go away to suffer +for their follies in private somewhere else. Otherwise, between +sick children and discontented old folk, we might be put out of all +conceit of life.<br> +<br> +I had need of all my cerebral hygiene during that day’s paddle: +the old devotee stuck in my throat sorely. But I was soon in the +seventh heaven of stupidity; and knew nothing but that somebody was +paddling a canoe, while I was counting his strokes and forgetting the +hundreds. I used sometimes to be afraid I should remember the +hundreds; which would have made a toil of a pleasure; but the terror +was chimerical, they went out of my mind by enchantment, and I knew +no more than the man in the moon about my only occupation.<br> +<br> +At Creil, where we stopped to lunch, we left the canoes in another floating +lavatory, which, as it was high noon, was packed with washerwomen, red-handed +and loud-voiced; and they and their broad jokes are about all I remember +of the place. I could look up my history-books, if you were very +anxious, and tell you a date or two; for it figured rather largely in +the English wars. But I prefer to mention a girls’ boarding-school, +which had an interest for us because it was a girls’ boarding-school, +and because we imagined we had rather an interest for it. At least +- there were the girls about the garden; and here were we on the river; +and there was more than one handkerchief waved as we went by. +It caused quite a stir in my heart; and yet how we should have wearied +and despised each other, these girls and I, if we had been introduced +at a croquet-party! But this is a fashion I love: to kiss the +hand or wave a handkerchief to people I shall never see again, to play +with possibility, and knock in a peg for fancy to hang upon. It +gives the traveller a jog, reminds him that he is not a traveller everywhere, +and that his journey is no more than a siesta by the way on the real +march of life.<br> +<br> +The church at Creil was a nondescript place in the inside, splashed +with gaudy lights from the windows, and picked out with medallions of +the Dolorous Way. But there was one oddity, in the way of an <i>ex +voto</i>, which pleased me hugely: a faithful model of a canal boat, +swung from the vault, with a written aspiration that God should conduct +the <i>Saint Nicolas</i> of Creil to a good haven. The thing was +neatly executed, and would have made the delight of a party of boys +on the waterside. But what tickled me was the gravity of the peril +to be conjured. You might hang up the model of a sea-going ship, +and welcome: one that is to plough a furrow round the world, and visit +the tropic or the frosty poles, runs dangers that are well worth a candle +and a mass. But the <i>Saint</i> <i>Nicolas</i> of Creil, which +was to be tugged for some ten years by patient draught-horses, in a +weedy canal, with the poplars chattering overhead, and the skipper whistling +at the tiller; which was to do all its errands in green inland places, +and never get out of sight of a village belfry in all its cruising; +why, you would have thought if anything could be done without the intervention +of Providence, it would be that! But perhaps the skipper was a +humorist: or perhaps a prophet, reminding people of the seriousness +of life by this preposterous token.<br> +<br> +At Creil, as at Noyon, Saint Joseph seemed a favourite saint on the +score of punctuality. Day and hour can be specified; and grateful +people do not fail to specify them on a votive tablet, when prayers +have been punctually and neatly answered. Whenever time is a consideration, +Saint Joseph is the proper intermediary. I took a sort of pleasure +in observing the vogue he had in France, for the good man plays a very +small part in my religion at home. Yet I could not help fearing +that, where the Saint is so much commanded for exactitude, he will be +expected to be very grateful for his tablet.<br> +<br> +This is foolishness to us Protestants; and not of great importance anyway. +Whether people’s gratitude for the good gifts that come to them +be wisely conceived or dutifully expressed, is a secondary matter, after +all, so long as they feel gratitude. The true ignorance is when +a man does not know that he has received a good gift, or begins to imagine +that he has got it for himself. The self-made man is the funniest +windbag after all! There is a marked difference between decreeing +light in chaos, and lighting the gas in a metropolitan back-parlour +with a box of patent matches; and do what we will, there is always something +made to our hand, if it were only our fingers.<br> +<br> +But there was something worse than foolishness placarded in Creil Church. +The Association of the Living Rosary (of which I had never previously +heard) is responsible for that. This Association was founded, +according to the printed advertisement, by a brief of Pope Gregory Sixteenth, +on the 17th of January 1832: according to a coloured bas-relief, it +seems to have been founded, sometime other, by the Virgin giving one +rosary to Saint Dominic, and the Infant Saviour giving another to Saint +Catharine of Siena. Pope Gregory is not so imposing, but he is +nearer hand. I could not distinctly make out whether the Association +was entirely devotional, or had an eye to good works; at least it is +highly organised: the names of fourteen matrons and misses were filled +in for each week of the month as associates, with one other, generally +a married woman, at the top for <i>zélatrice</i>: the leader +of the band. Indulgences, plenary and partial, follow on the performance +of the duties of the Association. ‘The partial indulgences +are attached to the recitation of the rosary.’ On ‘the +recitation of the required <i>dizaine</i>,’ a partial indulgence +promptly follows. When people serve the kingdom of heaven with +a pass-book in their hands, I should always be afraid lest they should +carry the same commercial spirit into their dealings with their fellow-men, +which would make a sad and sordid business of this life.<br> +<br> +There is one more article, however, of happier import. ‘All +these indulgences,’ it appeared, ‘are applicable to souls +in purgatory.’ For God’s sake, ye ladies of Creil, +apply them all to the souls in purgatory without delay! Burns +would take no hire for his last songs, preferring to serve his country +out of unmixed love. Suppose you were to imitate the exciseman, +mesdames, and even if the souls in purgatory were not greatly bettered, +some souls in Creil upon the Oise would find themselves none the worse +either here or hereafter.<br> +<br> +I cannot help wondering, as I transcribe these notes, whether a Protestant +born and bred is in a fit state to understand these signs, and do them +what justice they deserve; and I cannot help answering that he is not. +They cannot look so merely ugly and mean to the faithful as they do +to me. I see that as clearly as a proposition in Euclid. +For these believers are neither weak nor wicked. They can put +up their tablet commanding Saint Joseph for his despatch, as if he were +still a village carpenter; they can ‘recite the required <i>dizaine</i>,’ +and metaphorically pocket the indulgence, as if they had done a job +for Heaven; and then they can go out and look down unabashed upon this +wonderful river flowing by, and up without confusion at the pin-point +stars, which are themselves great worlds full of flowing rivers greater +than the Oise. I see it as plainly, I say, as a proposition in +Euclid, that my Protestant mind has missed the point, and that there +goes with these deformities some higher and more religious spirit than +I dream.<br> +<br> +I wonder if other people would make the same allowances for me! +Like the ladies of Creil, having recited my rosary of toleration, I +look for my indulgence on the spot.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PRÉCY AND THE MARIONNETTES<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +We made Précy about sundown. The plain is rich with tufts +of poplar. In a wide, luminous curve, the Oise lay under the hillside. +A faint mist began to rise and confound the different distances together. +There was not a sound audible but that of the sheep-bells in some meadows +by the river, and the creaking of a cart down the long road that descends +the hill. The villas in their gardens, the shops along the street, +all seemed to have been deserted the day before; and I felt inclined +to walk discreetly as one feels in a silent forest. All of a sudden, +we came round a corner, and there, in a little green round the church, +was a bevy of girls in Parisian costumes playing croquet. Their +laughter, and the hollow sound of ball and mallet, made a cheery stir +in the neighbourhood; and the look of these slim figures, all corseted +and ribboned, produced an answerable disturbance in our hearts. +We were within sniff of Paris, it seemed. And here were females +of our own species playing croquet, just as if Précy had been +a place in real life, instead of a stage in the fairyland of travel. +For, to be frank, the peasant woman is scarcely to be counted as a woman +at all, and after having passed by such a succession of people in petticoats +digging and hoeing and making dinner, this company of coquettes under +arms made quite a surprising feature in the landscape, and convinced +us at once of being fallible males.<br> +<br> +The inn at Précy is the worst inn in France. Not even in +Scotland have I found worse fare. It was kept by a brother and +sister, neither of whom was out of their teens. The sister, so +to speak, prepared a meal for us; and the brother, who had been tippling, +came in and brought with him a tipsy butcher, to entertain us as we +ate. We found pieces of loo-warm pork among the salad, and pieces +of unknown yielding substance in the <i>ragoût</i>. The +butcher entertained us with pictures of Parisian life, with which he +professed himself well acquainted; the brother sitting the while on +the edge of the billiard-table, toppling precariously, and sucking the +stump of a cigar. In the midst of these diversions, bang went +a drum past the house, and a hoarse voice began issuing a proclamation. +It was a man with marionnettes announcing a performance for that evening.<br> +<br> +He had set up his caravan and lighted his candles on another part of +the girls’ croquet-green, under one of those open sheds which +are so common in France to shelter markets; and he and his wife, by +the time we strolled up there, were trying to keep order with the audience.<br> +<br> +It was the most absurd contention. The show-people had set out +a certain number of benches; and all who sat upon them were to pay a +couple of <i>sous</i> for the accommodation. They were always +quite full - a bumper house - as long as nothing was going forward; +but let the show-woman appear with an eye to a collection, and at the +first rattle of her tambourine the audience slipped off the seats, and +stood round on the outside with their hands in their pockets. +It certainly would have tried an angel’s temper. The showman +roared from the proscenium; he had been all over France, and nowhere, +nowhere, ‘not even on the borders of Germany,’ had he met +with such misconduct. Such thieves and rogues and rascals, as +he called them! And every now and again, the wife issued on another +round, and added her shrill quota to the tirade. I remarked here, +as elsewhere, how far more copious is the female mind in the material +of insult. The audience laughed in high good-humour over the man’s +declamations; but they bridled and cried aloud under the woman’s +pungent sallies. She picked out the sore points. She had +the honour of the village at her mercy. Voices answered her angrily +out of the crowd, and received a smarting retort for their trouble. +A couple of old ladies beside me, who had duly paid for their seats, +waxed very red and indignant, and discoursed to each other audibly about +the impudence of these mountebanks; but as soon as the show-woman caught +a whisper of this, she was down upon them with a swoop: if mesdames +could persuade their neighbours to act with common honesty, the mountebanks, +she assured them, would be polite enough: mesdames had probably had +their bowl of soup, and perhaps a glass of wine that evening; the mountebanks +also had a taste for soup, and did not choose to have their little earnings +stolen from them before their eyes. Once, things came as far as +a brief personal encounter between the showman and some lads, in which +the former went down as readily as one of his own marionnettes to a +peal of jeering laughter.<br> +<br> +I was a good deal astonished at this scene, because I am pretty well +acquainted with the ways of French strollers, more or less artistic; +and have always found them singularly pleasing. Any stroller must +be dear to the right-thinking heart; if it were only as a living protest +against offices and the mercantile spirit, and as something to remind +us that life is not by necessity the kind of thing we generally make +it. Even a German band, if you see it leaving town in the early +morning for a campaign in country places, among trees and meadows, has +a romantic flavour for the imagination. There is nobody, under +thirty, so dead but his heart will stir a little at sight of a gypsies’ +camp. ‘We are not cotton-spinners all’; or, at least, +not all through. There is some life in humanity yet: and youth +will now and again find a brave word to say in dispraise of riches, +and throw up a situation to go strolling with a knapsack.<br> +<br> +An Englishman has always special facilities for intercourse with French +gymnasts; for England is the natural home of gymnasts. This or +that fellow, in his tights and spangles, is sure to know a word or two +of English, to have drunk English <i>aff-’n-aff</i>, and perhaps +performed in an English music-hall. He is a countryman of mine +by profession. He leaps, like the Belgian boating men, to the +notion that I must be an athlete myself.<br> +<br> +But the gymnast is not my favourite; he has little or no tincture of +the artist in his composition; his soul is small and pedestrian, for +the most part, since his profession makes no call upon it, and does +not accustom him to high ideas. But if a man is only so much of +an actor that he can stumble through a farce, he is made free of a new +order of thoughts. He has something else to think about beside +the money-box. He has a pride of his own, and, what is of far +more importance, he has an aim before him that he can never quite attain. +He has gone upon a pilgrimage that will last him his life long, because +there is no end to it short of perfection. He will better upon +himself a little day by day; or even if he has given up the attempt, +he will always remember that once upon a time he had conceived this +high ideal, that once upon a time he had fallen in love with a star. +‘’Tis better to have loved and lost.’ Although +the moon should have nothing to say to Endymion, although he should +settle down with Audrey and feed pigs, do you not think he would move +with a better grace, and cherish higher thoughts to the end? The +louts he meets at church never had a fancy above Audrey’s snood; +but there is a reminiscence in Endymion’s heart that, like a spice, +keeps it fresh and haughty.<br> +<br> +To be even one of the outskirters of art, leaves a fine stamp on a man’s +countenance. I remember once dining with a party in the inn at +Château Landon. Most of them were unmistakable bagmen; others +well-to-do peasantry; but there was one young fellow in a blouse, whose +face stood out from among the rest surprisingly. It looked more +finished; more of the spirit looked out through it; it had a living, +expressive air, and you could see that his eyes took things in. +My companion and I wondered greatly who and what he could be. +It was fair-time in Château Landon, and when we went along to +the booths, we had our question answered; for there was our friend busily +fiddling for the peasants to caper to. He was a wandering violinist.<br> +<br> +A troop of strollers once came to the inn where I was staying, in the +department of Seine et Marne. There was a father and mother; two +daughters, brazen, blowsy hussies, who sang and acted, without an idea +of how to set about either; and a dark young man, like a tutor, a recalcitrant +house-painter, who sang and acted not amiss. The mother was the +genius of the party, so far as genius can be spoken of with regard to +such a pack of incompetent humbugs; and her husband could not find words +to express his admiration for her comic countryman. ‘You +should see my old woman,’ said he, and nodded his beery countenance. +One night they performed in the stable-yard, with flaring lamps - a +wretched exhibition, coldly looked upon by a village audience. +Next night, as soon as the lamps were lighted, there came a plump of +rain, and they had to sweep away their baggage as fast as possible, +and make off to the barn where they harboured, cold, wet, and supperless. +In the morning, a dear friend of mine, who has as warm a heart for strollers +as I have myself, made a little collection, and sent it by my hands +to comfort them for their disappointment. I gave it to the father; +he thanked me cordially, and we drank a cup together in the kitchen, +talking of roads, and audiences, and hard times.<br> +<br> +When I was going, up got my old stroller, and off with his hat. +‘I am afraid,’ said he, ‘that Monsieur will think +me altogether a beggar; but I have another demand to make upon him.’ +I began to hate him on the spot. ‘We play again to-night,’ +he went on. ‘Of course, I shall refuse to accept any more +money from Monsieur and his friends, who have been already so liberal. +But our programme of to-night is something truly creditable; and I cling +to the idea that Monsieur will honour us with his presence.’ +And then, with a shrug and a smile: ‘Monsieur understands - the +vanity of an artist!’ Save the mark! The vanity of +an artist! That is the kind of thing that reconciles me to life: +a ragged, tippling, incompetent old rogue, with the manners of a gentleman, +and the vanity of an artist, to keep up his self-respect!<br> +<br> +But the man after my own heart is M. de Vauversin. It is nearly +two years since I saw him first, and indeed I hope I may see him often +again. Here is his first programme, as I found it on the breakfast-table, +and have kept it ever since as a relic of bright days:<br> +<br> +<br> +‘<i>Mesdames et Messieurs,<br> +<br> +‘Mademoiselle Ferrario et M. de Vauversin auront l’honneur +de chanter ce soir les morceaux suivants.<br> +<br> +‘Madermoiselle Ferrario chantera - Mignon - Oiseaux Légers +- France - Des Français dorment là - Le château +bleu - Où voulez-vous aller?<br> +<br> +‘M. de Vauversin - Madame Fontaine et M. Robinet - Les plongeurs +à cheval - Le Mari mécontent - Tais-toi, gamin - Mon voisin +l’original - Heureux comme ça - Comme on est trompé.’<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>They made a stage at one end of the <i>salle-à</i>-<i>manger</i>. +And what a sight it was to see M. de Vauversin, with a cigarette in +his mouth, twanging a guitar, and following Mademoiselle Ferrario’s +eyes with the obedient, kindly look of a dog! The entertainment +wound up with a tombola, or auction of lottery tickets: an admirable +amusement, with all the excitement of gambling, and no hope of gain +to make you ashamed of your eagerness; for there, all is loss; you make +haste to be out of pocket; it is a competition who shall lose most money +for the benefit of M. de Vauversin and Mademoiselle Ferrario.<br> +<br> +M. de Vauversin is a small man, with a great head of black hair, a vivacious +and engaging air, and a smile that would be delightful if he had better +teeth. He was once an actor in the Châtelet; but he contracted +a nervous affection from the heat and glare of the footlights, which +unfitted him for the stage. At this crisis Mademoiselle Ferrario, +otherwise Mademoiselle Rita of the Alcazar, agreed to share his wandering +fortunes. ‘I could never forget the generosity of that lady,’ +said he. He wears trousers so tight that it has long been a problem +to all who knew him how he manages to get in and out of them. +He sketches a little in water-colours; he writes verses; he is the most +patient of fishermen, and spent long days at the bottom of the inn-garden +fruitlessly dabbling a line in the clear river.<br> +<br> +You should hear him recounting his experiences over a bottle of wine; +such a pleasant vein of talk as he has, with a ready smile at his own +mishaps, and every now and then a sudden gravity, like a man who should +hear the surf roar while he was telling the perils of the deep. +For it was no longer ago than last night, perhaps, that the receipts +only amounted to a franc and a half, to cover three francs of railway +fare and two of board and lodging. The Maire, a man worth a million +of money, sat in the front seat, repeatedly applauding Mlle. Ferrario, +and yet gave no more than three <i>sous</i> the whole evening. +Local authorities look with such an evil eye upon the strolling artist. +Alas! I know it well, who have been myself taken for one, and pitilessly +incarcerated on the strength of the misapprehension. Once, M. +de Vauversin visited a commissary of police for permission to sing. +The commissary, who was smoking at his ease, politely doffed his hat +upon the singer’s entrance. ‘Mr. Commissary,’ +he began, ‘I am an artist.’ And on went the commissary’s +hat again. No courtesy for the companions of Apollo! ‘They +are as degraded as that,’ said M. de Vauversin with a sweep of +his cigarette.<br> +<br> +But what pleased me most was one outbreak of his, when we had been talking +all the evening of the rubs, indignities, and pinchings of his wandering +life. Some one said, it would be better to have a million of money +down, and Mlle. Ferrario admitted that she would prefer that mightily. +‘<i>Eh bien, moi non</i>; - not I,’ cried De Vauversin, +striking the table with his hand. ‘If any one is a failure +in the world, is it not I? I had an art, in which I have done +things well - as well as some - better perhaps than others; and now +it is closed against me. I must go about the country gathering +coppers and singing nonsense. Do you think I regret my life? +Do you think I would rather be a fat burgess, like a calf? Not +I! I have had moments when I have been applauded on the boards: +I think nothing of that; but I have known in my own mind sometimes, +when I had not a clap from the whole house, that I had found a true +intonation, or an exact and speaking gesture; and then, messieurs, I +have known what pleasure was, what it was to do a thing well, what it +was to be an artist. And to know what art is, is to have an interest +for ever, such as no burgess can find in his petty concerns. <i>Tenez, +messieurs, je vais vous le dire</i> - it is like a religion.’<br> +<br> +Such, making some allowance for the tricks of memory and the inaccuracies +of translation, was the profession of faith of M. de Vauversin. +I have given him his own name, lest any other wanderer should come across +him, with his guitar and cigarette, and Mademoiselle Ferrario; for should +not all the world delight to honour this unfortunate and loyal follower +of the Muses? May Apollo send him rimes hitherto undreamed of; +may the river be no longer scanty of her silver fishes to his lure; +may the cold not pinch him on long winter rides, nor the village jack-in-office +affront him with unseemly manners; and may he never miss Mademoiselle +Ferrario from his side, to follow with his dutiful eyes and accompany +on the guitar!<br> +<br> +The marionnettes made a very dismal entertainment. They performed +a piece, called <i>Pyramus</i> <i>and Thisbe</i>, in five mortal acts, +and all written in Alexandrines fully as long as the performers. +One marionnette was the king; another the wicked counsellor; a third, +credited with exceptional beauty, represented Thisbe; and then there +were guards, and obdurate fathers, and walking gentlemen. Nothing +particular took place during the two or three acts that I sat out; but +you will he pleased to learn that the unities were properly respected, +and the whole piece, with one exception, moved in harmony with classical +rules. That exception was the comic countryman, a lean marionnette +in wooden shoes, who spoke in prose and in a broad <i>patois</i> much +appreciated by the audience. He took unconstitutional liberties +with the person of his sovereign; kicked his fellow-marionnettes in +the mouth with his wooden shoes, and whenever none of the versifying +suitors were about, made love to Thisbe on his own account in comic +prose.<br> +<br> +This fellow’s evolutions, and the little prologue, in which the +showman made a humorous eulogium of his troop, praising their indifference +to applause and hisses, and their single devotion to their art, were +the only circumstances in the whole affair that you could fancy would +so much as raise a smile. But the villagers of Précy seemed +delighted. Indeed, so long as a thing is an exhibition, and you +pay to see it, it is nearly certain to amuse. If we were charged +so much a head for sunsets, or if God sent round a drum before the hawthorns +came in flower, what a work should we not make about their beauty! +But these things, like good companions, stupid people early cease to +observe: and the Abstract Bagman tittups past in his spring gig, and +is positively not aware of the flowers along the lane, or the scenery +of the weather overhead.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +BACK TO THE WORLD<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Of the next two days’ sail little remains in my mind, and nothing +whatever in my note-book. The river streamed on steadily through +pleasant river-side landscapes. Washerwomen in blue dresses, fishers +in blue blouses, diversified the green banks; and the relation of the +two colours was like that of the flower and the leaf in the forget-me-not. +A symphony in forget-me-not; I think Théophile Gautier might +thus have characterised that two days’ panorama. The sky +was blue and cloudless; and the sliding surface of the river held up, +in smooth places, a mirror to the heaven and the shores. The washerwomen +hailed us laughingly; and the noise of trees and water made an accompaniment +to our dozing thoughts, as we fleeted down the stream.<br> +<br> +The great volume, the indefatigable purpose of the river, held the mind +in chain. It seemed now so sure of its end, so strong and easy +in its gait, like a grown man full of determination. The surf +was roaring for it on the sands of Havre.<br> +<br> +For my own part, slipping along this moving thoroughfare in my fiddle-case +of a canoe, I also was beginning to grow aweary for my ocean. +To the civilised man, there must come, sooner or later, a desire for +civilisation. I was weary of dipping the paddle; I was weary of +living on the skirts of life; I wished to be in the thick of it once +more; I wished to get to work; I wished to meet people who understood +my own speech, and could meet with me on equal terms, as a man, and +no longer as a curiosity.<br> +<br> +And so a letter at Pontoise decided us, and we drew up our keels for +the last time out of that river of Oise that had faithfully piloted +them, through rain and sunshine, for so long. For so many miles +had this fleet and footless beast of burthen charioted our fortunes, +that we turned our back upon it with a sense of separation. We +had made a long détour out of the world, but now we were back +in the familiar places, where life itself makes all the running, and +we are carried to meet adventure without a stroke of the paddle. +Now we were to return, like the voyager in the play, and see what rearrangements +fortune had perfected the while in our surroundings; what surprises +stood ready made for us at home; and whither and how far the world had +voyaged in our absence. You may paddle all day long; but it is +when you come back at nightfall, and look in at the familiar room, that +you find Love or Death awaiting you beside the stove; and the most beautiful +adventures are not those we go to seek.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AN INLAND VOYAGE ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named nvoyg10h.htm or nvoyg10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, nvoyg11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, nvoyg10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext04 + +Or /etext03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart hart@pobox.com + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* +</pre></body> +</html> |