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+<title>Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes</title>
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+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes, by Robert Louis Stevenson</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes, by
+Robert Louis Stevenson, Illustrated by Walter Crane
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes
+
+Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2004 [eBook #535]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY IN THE CEVENNES***
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p> Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk&nbsp; Second proof
+by Margaret Price.</p>
+<h1>Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes<br />
+by Robert Louis Stevenson</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center">A New Impression with a Frontispiece by Walter
+Crane<br />
+London: Chatto &amp; Windus, 1907</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/frontb.jpg">
+<img alt="Frontispiece, by Walter Crane" src="images/fronts.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>My Dear Sidney Colvin,</p>
+<p>The journey which this little book is to describe was very agreeable
+and fortunate for me.&nbsp; After an uncouth beginning, I had the best
+of luck to the end.&nbsp; But we are all travellers in what John Bunyan
+calls the wilderness of this world&mdash;all, too, travellers with a
+donkey: and the best that we find in our travels is an honest friend.&nbsp;
+He is a fortunate voyager who finds many.&nbsp; We travel, indeed, to
+find them.&nbsp; They are the end and the reward of life.&nbsp; They
+keep us worthy of ourselves; and when we are alone, we are only nearer
+to the absent.</p>
+<p>Every book is, in an intimate sense, a circular letter to the friends
+of him who writes it.&nbsp; They alone take his meaning; they find private
+messages, assurances of love, and expressions of gratitude, dropped
+for them in every corner.&nbsp; The public is but a generous patron
+who defrays the postage.&nbsp; Yet though the letter is directed to
+all, we have an old and kindly custom of addressing it on the outside
+to one.&nbsp; Of what shall a man be proud, if he is not proud of his
+friends?&nbsp; And so, my dear Sidney Colvin, it is with pride that
+I sign myself affectionately yours,</p>
+<p>R. L. S.</p>
+<h2>VELAY</h2>
+<blockquote><p>Many are the mighty things, and nought is more mighty
+than man. . . . He masters by his devices the tenant of the fields.</p>
+<p>SOPHOCLES.</p>
+<p>Who hath loosed the bands of the wild ass?</p>
+<p>JOB.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h3>THE DONKEY, THE PACK, AND THE PACK-SADDLE</h3>
+<p>In a little place called Le Monastier, in a pleasant highland valley
+fifteen miles from Le Puy, I spent about a month of fine days.&nbsp;
+Monastier is notable for the making of lace, for drunkenness, for freedom
+of language, and for unparalleled political dissension.&nbsp; There
+are adherents of each of the four French parties&mdash;Legitimists,
+Orleanists, Imperialists, and Republicans&mdash;in this little mountain-town;
+and they all hate, loathe, decry, and calumniate each other.&nbsp; Except
+for business purposes, or to give each other the lie in a tavern brawl,
+they have laid aside even the civility of speech.&nbsp; &rsquo;Tis a
+mere mountain Poland.&nbsp; In the midst of this Babylon I found myself
+a rallying-point; every one was anxious to be kind and helpful to the
+stranger.&nbsp; This was not merely from the natural hospitality of
+mountain people, nor even from the surprise with which I was regarded
+as a man living of his own free will in Le Monastier, when he might
+just as well have lived anywhere else in this big world; it arose a
+good deal from my projected excursion southward through the Cevennes.&nbsp;
+A traveller of my sort was a thing hitherto unheard of in that district.&nbsp;
+I was looked upon with contempt, like a man who should project a journey
+to the moon, but yet with a respectful interest, like one setting forth
+for the inclement Pole.&nbsp; All were ready to help in my preparations;
+a crowd of sympathisers supported me at the critical moment of a bargain;
+not a step was taken but was heralded by glasses round and celebrated
+by a dinner or a breakfast.</p>
+<p>It was already hard upon October before I was ready to set forth,
+and at the high altitudes over which my road lay there was no Indian
+summer to be looked for.&nbsp; I was determined, if not to camp out,
+at least to have the means of camping out in my possession; for there
+is nothing more harassing to an easy mind than the necessity of reaching
+shelter by dusk, and the hospitality of a village inn is not always
+to be reckoned sure by those who trudge on foot.&nbsp; A tent, above
+all for a solitary traveller, is troublesome to pitch, and troublesome
+to strike again; and even on the march it forms a conspicuous feature
+in your baggage.&nbsp; A sleeping-sack, on the other hand, is always
+ready&mdash;you have only to get into it; it serves a double purpose&mdash;a
+bed by night, a portmanteau by day; and it does not advertise your intention
+of camping out to every curious passer-by.&nbsp; This is a huge point.&nbsp;
+If a camp is not secret, it is but a troubled resting-place; you become
+a public character; the convivial rustic visits your bedside after an
+early supper; and you must sleep with one eye open, and be up before
+the day.&nbsp; I decided on a sleeping-sack; and after repeated visits
+to Le Puy, and a deal of high living for myself and my advisers, a sleeping-sack
+was designed, constructed, and triumphantly brought home.</p>
+<p>This child of my invention was nearly six feet square, exclusive
+of two triangular flaps to serve as a pillow by night and as the top
+and bottom of the sack by day.&nbsp; I call it &lsquo;the sack,&rsquo;
+but it was never a sack by more than courtesy: only a sort of long roll
+or sausage, green waterproof cart-cloth without and blue sheep&rsquo;s
+fur within.&nbsp; It was commodious as a valise, warm and dry for a
+bed.&nbsp; There was luxurious turning room for one; and at a pinch
+the thing might serve for two.&nbsp; I could bury myself in it up to
+the neck; for my head I trusted to a fur cap, with a hood to fold down
+over my ears and a band to pass under my nose like a respirator; and
+in case of heavy rain I proposed to make myself a little tent, or tentlet,
+with my waterproof coat, three stones, and a bent branch.</p>
+<p>It will readily be conceived that I could not carry this huge package
+on my own, merely human, shoulders.&nbsp; It remained to choose a beast
+of burden.&nbsp; Now, a horse is a fine lady among animals, flighty,
+timid, delicate in eating, of tender health; he is too valuable and
+too restive to be left alone, so that you are chained to your brute
+as to a fellow galley-slave; a dangerous road puts him out of his wits;
+in short, he&rsquo;s an uncertain and exacting ally, and adds thirty-fold
+to the troubles of the voyager.&nbsp; What I required was something
+cheap and small and hardy, and of a stolid and peaceful temper; and
+all these requisites pointed to a donkey.</p>
+<p>There dwelt an old man in Monastier, of rather unsound intellect
+according to some, much followed by street-boys, and known to fame as
+Father Adam.&nbsp; Father Adam had a cart, and to draw the cart a diminutive
+she-ass, not much bigger than a dog, the colour of a mouse, with a kindly
+eye and a determined under-jaw.&nbsp; There was something neat and high-bred,
+a quakerish elegance, about the rogue that hit my fancy on the spot.&nbsp;
+Our first interview was in Monastier market-place.&nbsp; To prove her
+good temper, one child after another was set upon her back to ride,
+and one after another went head over heels into the air; until a want
+of confidence began to reign in youthful bosoms, and the experiment
+was discontinued from a dearth of subjects.&nbsp; I was already backed
+by a deputation of my friends; but as if this were not enough, all the
+buyers and sellers came round and helped me in the bargain; and the
+ass and I and Father Adam were the centre of a hubbub for near half
+an hour.&nbsp; At length she passed into my service for the consideration
+of sixty-five francs and a glass of brandy.&nbsp; The sack had already
+cost eighty francs and two glasses of beer; so that Modestine, as I
+instantly baptized her, was upon all accounts the cheaper article.&nbsp;
+Indeed, that was as it should be; for she was only an appurtenance of
+my mattress, or self-acting bedstead on four castors.</p>
+<p>I had a last interview with Father Adam in a billiard-room at the
+witching hour of dawn, when I administered the brandy.&nbsp; He professed
+himself greatly touched by the separation, and declared he had often
+bought white bread for the donkey when he had been content with black
+bread for himself; but this, according to the best authorities, must
+have been a flight of fancy.&nbsp; He had a name in the village for
+brutally misusing the ass; yet it is certain that he shed a tear, and
+the tear made a clean mark down one cheek.</p>
+<p>By the advice of a fallacious local saddler, a leather pad was made
+for me with rings to fasten on my bundle; and I thoughtfully completed
+my kit and arranged my toilette.&nbsp; By way of armoury and utensils,
+I took a revolver, a little spirit-lamp and pan, a lantern and some
+halfpenny candles, a jack-knife and a large leather flask.&nbsp; The
+main cargo consisted of two entire changes of warm clothing&mdash;besides
+my travelling wear of country velveteen, pilot-coat, and knitted spencer&mdash;some
+books, and my railway-rug, which, being also in the form of a bag, made
+me a double castle for cold nights.&nbsp; The permanent larder was represented
+by cakes of chocolate and tins of Bologna sausage.&nbsp; All this, except
+what I carried about my person, was easily stowed into the sheepskin
+bag; and by good fortune I threw in my empty knapsack, rather for convenience
+of carriage than from any thought that I should want it on my journey.&nbsp;
+For more immediate needs I took a leg of cold mutton, a bottle of Beaujolais,
+an empty bottle to carry milk, an egg-beater, and a considerable quantity
+of black bread and white, like Father Adam, for myself and donkey, only
+in my scheme of things the destinations were reversed.</p>
+<p>Monastrians, of all shades of thought in politics, had agreed in
+threatening me with many ludicrous misadventures, and with sudden death
+in many surprising forms.&nbsp; Cold, wolves, robbers, above all the
+nocturnal practical joker, were daily and eloquently forced on my attention.&nbsp;
+Yet in these vaticinations, the true, patent danger was left out.&nbsp;
+Like Christian, it was from my pack I suffered by the way.&nbsp; Before
+telling my own mishaps, let me in two words relate the lesson of my
+experience.&nbsp; If the pack is well strapped at the ends, and hung
+at full length&mdash;not doubled, for your life&mdash;across the pack-saddle,
+the traveller is safe.&nbsp; The saddle will certainly not fit, such
+is the imperfection of our transitory life; it will assuredly topple
+and tend to overset; but there are stones on every roadside, and a man
+soon learns the art of correcting any tendency to overbalance with a
+well-adjusted stone.</p>
+<p>On the day of my departure I was up a little after five; by six,
+we began to load the donkey; and ten minutes after, my hopes were in
+the dust.&nbsp; The pad would not stay on Modestine&rsquo;s back for
+half a moment.&nbsp; I returned it to its maker, with whom I had so
+contumelious a passage that the street outside was crowded from wall
+to wall with gossips looking on and listening.&nbsp; The pad changed
+hands with much vivacity; perhaps it would be more descriptive to say
+that we threw it at each other&rsquo;s heads; and, at any rate, we were
+very warm and unfriendly, and spoke with a deal of freedom.</p>
+<p>I had a common donkey pack-saddle&mdash;a <i>barde</i>, as they call
+it&mdash;fitted upon Modestine; and once more loaded her with my effects.&nbsp;
+The doubled sack, my pilot-coat (for it was warm, and I was to walk
+in my waistcoat), a great bar of black bread, and an open basket containing
+the white bread, the mutton, and the bottles, were all corded together
+in a very elaborate system of knots, and I looked on the result with
+fatuous content.&nbsp; In such a monstrous deck-cargo, all poised above
+the donkey&rsquo;s shoulders, with nothing below to balance, on a brand-new
+pack-saddle that had not yet been worn to fit the animal, and fastened
+with brand-new girths that might be expected to stretch and slacken
+by the way, even a very careless traveller should have seen disaster
+brewing.&nbsp; That elaborate system of knots, again, was the work of
+too many sympathisers to be very artfully designed.&nbsp; It is true
+they tightened the cords with a will; as many as three at a time would
+have a foot against Modestine&rsquo;s quarters, and be hauling with
+clenched teeth; but I learned afterwards that one thoughtful person,
+without any exercise of force, can make a more solid job than half-a-dozen
+heated and enthusiastic grooms.&nbsp; I was then but a novice; even
+after the misadventure of the pad nothing could disturb my security,
+and I went forth from the stable door as an ox goeth to the slaughter.</p>
+<h3>THE GREEN DONKEY-DRIVER</h3>
+<p>The bell of Monastier was just striking nine as I got quit of these
+preliminary troubles and descended the hill through the common.&nbsp;
+As long as I was within sight of the windows, a secret shame and the
+fear of some laughable defeat withheld me from tampering with Modestine.&nbsp;
+She tripped along upon her four small hoofs with a sober daintiness
+of gait; from time to time she shook her ears or her tail; and she looked
+so small under the bundle that my mind misgave me.&nbsp; We got across
+the ford without difficulty&mdash;there was no doubt about the matter,
+she was docility itself&mdash;and once on the other bank, where the
+road begins to mount through pine-woods, I took in my right hand the
+unhallowed staff, and with a quaking spirit applied it to the donkey.&nbsp;
+Modestine brisked up her pace for perhaps three steps, and then relapsed
+into her former minuet.&nbsp; Another application had the same effect,
+and so with the third.&nbsp; I am worthy the name of an Englishman,
+and it goes against my conscience to lay my hand rudely on a female.&nbsp;
+I desisted, and looked her all over from head to foot; the poor brute&rsquo;s
+knees were trembling and her breathing was distressed; it was plain
+that she could go no faster on a hill.&nbsp; God forbid, thought I,
+that I should brutalise this innocent creature; let her go at her own
+pace, and let me patiently follow.</p>
+<p>What that pace was, there is no word mean enough to describe; it
+was something as much slower than a walk as a walk is slower than a
+run; it kept me hanging on each foot for an incredible length of time;
+in five minutes it exhausted the spirit and set up a fever in all the
+muscles of the leg.&nbsp; And yet I had to keep close at hand and measure
+my advance exactly upon hers; for if I dropped a few yards into the
+rear, or went on a few yards ahead, Modestine came instantly to a halt
+and began to browse.&nbsp; The thought that this was to last from here
+to Alais nearly broke my heart.&nbsp; Of all conceivable journeys, this
+promised to be the most tedious.&nbsp; I tried to tell myself it was
+a lovely day; I tried to charm my foreboding spirit with tobacco; but
+I had a vision ever present to me of the long, long roads, up hill and
+down dale, and a pair of figures ever infinitesimally moving, foot by
+foot, a yard to the minute, and, like things enchanted in a nightmare,
+approaching no nearer to the goal.</p>
+<p>In the meantime there came up behind us a tall peasant, perhaps forty
+years of age, of an ironical snuffy countenance, and arrayed in the
+green tail-coat of the country.&nbsp; He overtook us hand over hand,
+and stopped to consider our pitiful advance.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Your donkey,&rsquo; says he, &lsquo;is very old?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I told him, I believed not.</p>
+<p>Then, he supposed, we had come far.</p>
+<p>I told him, we had but newly left Monastier.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Et vous marchez comme</i> <i>&ccedil;a</i>!&rsquo; cried
+he; and, throwing back his head, he laughed long and heartily.&nbsp;
+I watched him, half prepared to feel offended, until he had satisfied
+his mirth; and then, &lsquo;You must have no pity on these animals,&rsquo;
+said he; and, plucking a switch out of a thicket, he began to lace Modestine
+about the stern-works, uttering a cry.&nbsp; The rogue pricked up her
+ears and broke into a good round pace, which she kept up without flagging,
+and without exhibiting the least symptom of distress, as long as the
+peasant kept beside us.&nbsp; Her former panting and shaking had been,
+I regret to say, a piece of comedy.</p>
+<p>My<i> deus ex machin&acirc;</i>, before he left me, supplied some
+excellent, if inhumane, advice; presented me with the switch, which
+he declared she would feel more tenderly than my cane; and finally taught
+me the true cry or masonic word of donkey-drivers, &lsquo;Proot!&rsquo;&nbsp;
+All the time, he regarded me with a comical, incredulous air, which
+was embarrassing to confront; and smiled over my donkey-driving, as
+I might have smiled over his orthography, or his green tail-coat.&nbsp;
+But it was not my turn for the moment.</p>
+<p>I was proud of my new lore, and thought I had learned the art to
+perfection.&nbsp; And certainly Modestine did wonders for the rest of
+the fore-noon, and I had a breathing space to look about me.&nbsp; It
+was Sabbath; the mountain-fields were all vacant in the sunshine; and
+as we came down through St. Martin de Frug&egrave;res, the church was
+crowded to the door, there were people kneeling without upon the steps,
+and the sound of the priest&rsquo;s chanting came forth out of the dim
+interior.&nbsp; It gave me a home feeling on the spot; for I am a countryman
+of the Sabbath, so to speak, and all Sabbath observances, like a Scottish
+accent, strike in me mixed feelings, grateful and the reverse.&nbsp;
+It is only a traveller, hurrying by like a person from another planet,
+who can rightly enjoy the peace and beauty of the great ascetic feast.&nbsp;
+The sight of the resting country does his spirit good.&nbsp; There is
+something better than music in the wide unusual silence; and it disposes
+him to amiable thoughts, like the sound of a little river or the warmth
+of sunlight.</p>
+<p>In this pleasant humour I came down the hill to where Goudet stands
+in a green end of a valley, with Ch&acirc;teau Beaufort opposite upon
+a rocky steep, and the stream, as clear as crystal, lying in a deep
+pool between them.&nbsp; Above and below, you may hear it wimpling over
+the stones, an amiable stripling of a river, which it seems absurd to
+call the Loire.&nbsp; On all sides, Goudet is shut in by mountains;
+rocky footpaths, practicable at best for donkeys, join it to the outer
+world of France; and the men and women drink and swear, in their green
+corner, or look up at the snow-clad peaks in winter from the threshold
+of their homes, in an isolation, you would think, like that of Homer&rsquo;s
+Cyclops.&nbsp; But it is not so; the postman reaches Goudet with the
+letter-bag; the aspiring youth of Goudet are within a day&rsquo;s walk
+of the railway at Le Puy; and here in the inn you may find an engraved
+portrait of the host&rsquo;s nephew, R&eacute;gis Senac, &lsquo;Professor
+of Fencing and Champion of the two Americas,&rsquo; a distinction gained
+by him, along with the sum of five hundred dollars, at Tammany Hall,
+New York, on the 10th April 1876.</p>
+<p>I hurried over my midday meal, and was early forth again.&nbsp; But,
+alas, as we climbed the interminable hill upon the other side, &lsquo;Proot!&rsquo;
+seemed to have lost its virtue.&nbsp; I prooted like a lion, I prooted
+mellifluously like a sucking-dove; but Modestine would be neither softened
+nor intimidated.&nbsp; She held doggedly to her pace; nothing but a
+blow would move her, and that only for a second.&nbsp; I must follow
+at her heels, incessantly belabouring.&nbsp; A moment&rsquo;s pause
+in this ignoble toil, and she relapsed into her own private gait.&nbsp;
+I think I never heard of any one in as mean a situation.&nbsp; I must
+reach the lake of Bouchet, where I meant to camp, before sundown, and,
+to have even a hope of this, I must instantly maltreat this uncomplaining
+animal.&nbsp; The sound of my own blows sickened me.&nbsp; Once, when
+I looked at her, she had a faint resemblance to a lady of my acquaintance
+who formerly loaded me with kindness; and this increased my horror of
+my cruelty.</p>
+<p>To make matters worse, we encountered another donkey, ranging at
+will upon the roadside; and this other donkey chanced to be a gentleman.&nbsp;
+He and Modestine met nickering for joy, and I had to separate the pair
+and beat down their young romance with a renewed and feverish bastinado.&nbsp;
+If the other donkey had had the heart of a male under his hide, he would
+have fallen upon me tooth and hoof; and this was a kind of consolation&mdash;he
+was plainly unworthy of Modestine&rsquo;s affection.&nbsp; But the incident
+saddened me, as did everything that spoke of my donkey&rsquo;s sex.</p>
+<p>It was blazing hot up the valley, windless, with vehement sun upon
+my shoulders; and I had to labour so consistently with my stick that
+the sweat ran into my eyes.&nbsp; Every five minutes, too, the pack,
+the basket, and the pilot-coat would take an ugly slew to one side or
+the other; and I had to stop Modestine, just when I had got her to a
+tolerable pace of about two miles an hour, to tug, push, shoulder, and
+readjust the load.&nbsp; And at last, in the village of Ussel, saddle
+and all, the whole hypothec turned round and grovelled in the dust below
+the donkey&rsquo;s belly.&nbsp; She, none better pleased, incontinently
+drew up and seemed to smile; and a party of one man, two women, and
+two children came up, and, standing round me in a half-circle, encouraged
+her by their example.</p>
+<p>I had the devil&rsquo;s own trouble to get the thing righted; and
+the instant I had done so, without hesitation, it toppled and fell down
+upon the other side.&nbsp; Judge if I was hot!&nbsp; And yet not a hand
+was offered to assist me.&nbsp; The man, indeed, told me I ought to
+have a package of a different shape.&nbsp; I suggested, if he knew nothing
+better to the point in my predicament, he might hold his tongue.&nbsp;
+And the good-natured dog agreed with me smilingly.&nbsp; It was the
+most despicable fix.&nbsp; I must plainly content myself with the pack
+for Modestine, and take the following items for my own share of the
+portage: a cane, a quart-flask, a pilot-jacket heavily weighted in the
+pockets, two pounds of black bread, and an open basket full of meats
+and bottles.&nbsp; I believe I may say I am not devoid of greatness
+of soul; for I did not recoil from this infamous burden.&nbsp; I disposed
+it, Heaven knows how, so as to be mildly portable, and then proceeded
+to steer Modestine through the village.&nbsp; She tried, as was indeed
+her invariable habit, to enter every house and every courtyard in the
+whole length; and, encumbered as I was, without a hand to help myself,
+no words can render an idea of my difficulties.&nbsp; A priest, with
+six or seven others, was examining a church in process of repair, and
+he and his acolytes laughed loudly as they saw my plight.</p>
+<p>I remembered having laughed myself when I had seen good men struggling
+with adversity in the person of a jackass, and the recollection filled
+me with penitence.&nbsp; That was in my old light days, before this
+trouble came upon me.&nbsp; God knows at least that I shall never laugh
+again, thought I.&nbsp; But oh, what a cruel thing is a farce to those
+engaged in it!</p>
+<p>A little out of the village, Modestine, filled with the demon, set
+her heart upon a by-road, and positively refused to leave it.&nbsp;
+I dropped all my bundles, and, I am ashamed to say, struck the poor
+sinner twice across the face.&nbsp; It was pitiful to see her lift her
+head with shut eyes, as if waiting for another blow.&nbsp; I came very
+near crying; but I did a wiser thing than that, and sat squarely down
+by the roadside to consider my situation under the cheerful influence
+of tobacco and a nip of brandy.&nbsp; Modestine, in the meanwhile, munched
+some black bread with a contrite hypocritical air.&nbsp; It was plain
+that I must make a sacrifice to the gods of shipwreck.&nbsp; I threw
+away the empty bottle destined to carry milk; I threw away my own white
+bread, and, disdaining to act by general average, kept the black bread
+for Modestine; lastly, I threw away the cold leg of mutton and the egg-whisk,
+although this last was dear to my heart.&nbsp; Thus I found room for
+everything in the basket, and even stowed the boating-coat on the top.&nbsp;
+By means of an end of cord I slung it under one arm; and although the
+cord cut my shoulder, and the jacket hung almost to the ground, it was
+with a heart greatly lightened that I set forth again.</p>
+<p>I had now an arm free to thrash Modestine, and cruelly I chastised
+her.&nbsp; If I were to reach the lakeside before dark, she must bestir
+her little shanks to some tune.&nbsp; Already the sun had gone down
+into a windy-looking mist; and although there were still a few streaks
+of gold far off to the east on the hills and the black fir-woods, all
+was cold and grey about our onward path.&nbsp; An infinity of little
+country by-roads led hither and thither among the fields.&nbsp; It was
+the most pointless labyrinth.&nbsp; I could see my destination overhead,
+or rather the peak that dominates it; but choose as I pleased, the roads
+always ended by turning away from it, and sneaking back towards the
+valley, or northward along the margin of the hills.&nbsp; The failing
+light, the waning colour, the naked, unhomely, stony country through
+which I was travelling, threw me into some despondency.&nbsp; I promise
+you, the stick was not idle; I think every decent step that Modestine
+took must have cost me at least two emphatic blows.&nbsp; There was
+not another sound in the neighbourhood but that of my unwearying bastinado.</p>
+<p>Suddenly, in the midst of my toils, the load once more bit the dust,
+and, as by enchantment, all the cords were simultaneously loosened,
+and the road scattered with my dear possessions.&nbsp; The packing was
+to begin again from the beginning; and as I had to invent a new and
+better system, I do not doubt but I lost half an hour.&nbsp; It began
+to be dusk in earnest as I reached a wilderness of turf and stones.&nbsp;
+It had the air of being a road which should lead everywhere at the same
+time; and I was falling into something not unlike despair when I saw
+two figures stalking towards me over the stones.&nbsp; They walked one
+behind the other like tramps, but their pace was remarkable.&nbsp; The
+son led the way, a tall, ill-made, sombre, Scottish-looking man; the
+mother followed, all in her Sunday&rsquo;s best, with an elegantly embroidered
+ribbon to her cap, and a new felt hat atop, and proffering, as she strode
+along with kilted petticoats, a string of obscene and blasphemous oaths.</p>
+<p>I hailed the son, and asked him my direction.&nbsp; He pointed loosely
+west and north-west, muttered an inaudible comment, and, without slackening
+his pace for an instant, stalked on, as he was going, right athwart
+my path.&nbsp; The mother followed without so much as raising her head.&nbsp;
+I shouted and shouted after them, but they continued to scale the hillside,
+and turned a deaf ear to my outcries.&nbsp; At last, leaving Modestine
+by herself, I was constrained to run after them, hailing the while.&nbsp;
+They stopped as I drew near, the mother still cursing; and I could see
+she was a handsome, motherly, respectable-looking woman.&nbsp; The son
+once more answered me roughly and inaudibly, and was for setting out
+again.&nbsp; But this time I simply collared the mother, who was nearest
+me, and, apologising for my violence, declared that I could not let
+them go until they had put me on my road.&nbsp; They were neither of
+them offended&mdash;rather mollified than otherwise; told me I had only
+to follow them; and then the mother asked me what I wanted by the lake
+at such an hour.&nbsp; I replied, in the Scottish manner, by inquiring
+if she had far to go herself.&nbsp; She told me, with another oath,
+that she had an hour and a half&rsquo;s road before her.&nbsp; And then,
+without salutation, the pair strode forward again up the hillside in
+the gathering dusk.</p>
+<p>I returned for Modestine, pushed her briskly forward, and, after
+a sharp ascent of twenty minutes, reached the edge of a plateau.&nbsp;
+The view, looking back on my day&rsquo;s journey, was both wild and
+sad.&nbsp; Mount M&eacute;zenc and the peaks beyond St. Julien stood
+out in trenchant gloom against a cold glitter in the east; and the intervening
+field of hills had fallen together into one broad wash of shadow, except
+here and there the outline of a wooded sugar-loaf in black, here and
+there a white irregular patch to represent a cultivated farm, and here
+and there a blot where the Loire, the Gazeille, or the Laussonne wandered
+in a gorge.</p>
+<p>Soon we were on a high-road, and surprise seized on my mind as I
+beheld a village of some magnitude close at hand; for I had been told
+that the neighbourhood of the lake was uninhabited except by trout.&nbsp;
+The road smoked in the twilight with children driving home cattle from
+the fields; and a pair of mounted stride-legged women, hat and cap and
+all, dashed past me at a hammering trot from the canton where they had
+been to church and market.&nbsp; I asked one of the children where I
+was.&nbsp; At Bouchet St. Nicolas, he told me.&nbsp; Thither, about
+a mile south of my destination, and on the other side of a respectable
+summit, had these confused roads and treacherous peasantry conducted
+me.&nbsp; My shoulder was cut, so that it hurt sharply; my arm ached
+like toothache from perpetual beating; I gave up the lake and my design
+to camp, and asked for the <i>auberge.</i></p>
+<h3>I HAVE A GOAD</h3>
+<p>The<i> auberge</i> of Bouchet St. Nicolas was among the least pretentious
+I have ever visited; but I saw many more of the like upon my journey.&nbsp;
+Indeed, it was typical of these French highlands.&nbsp; Imagine a cottage
+of two stories, with a bench before the door; the stable and kitchen
+in a suite, so that Modestine and I could hear each other dining; furniture
+of the plainest, earthern floors, a single bedchamber for travellers,
+and that without any convenience but beds.&nbsp; In the kitchen cooking
+and eating go forward side by side, and the family sleep at night.&nbsp;
+Any one who has a fancy to wash must do so in public at the common table.&nbsp;
+The food is sometimes spare; hard fish and omelette have been my portion
+more than once; the wine is of the smallest, the brandy abominable to
+man; and the visit of a fat sow, grouting under the table and rubbing
+against your legs, is no impossible accompaniment to dinner.</p>
+<p>But the people of the inn, in nine cases out of ten, show themselves
+friendly and considerate.&nbsp; As soon as you cross the doors you cease
+to be a stranger; and although these peasantry are rude and forbidding
+on the highway, they show a tincture of kind breeding when you share
+their hearth.&nbsp; At Bouchet, for instance, I uncorked my bottle of
+Beaujolais, and asked the host to join me.&nbsp; He would take but little.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I am an amateur of such wine, do you see?&rsquo; he said,
+&lsquo;and I am capable of leaving you not enough.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>In these hedge-inns the traveller is expected to eat with his own
+knife; unless he ask, no other will be supplied: with a glass, a whang
+of bread, and an iron fork, the table is completely laid.&nbsp; My knife
+was cordially admired by the landlord of Bouchet, and the spring filled
+him with wonder.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I should never have guessed that,&rsquo; he said.&nbsp; &lsquo;I
+would bet,&rsquo; he added, weighing it in his hand, &lsquo;that this
+cost you not less than five francs.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>When I told him it had cost me twenty, his jaw dropped.</p>
+<p>He was a mild, handsome, sensible, friendly old man, astonishingly
+ignorant.&nbsp; His wife, who was not so pleasant in her manners, knew
+how to read, although I do not suppose she ever did so.&nbsp; She had
+a share of brains and spoke with a cutting emphasis, like one who ruled
+the roast.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My man knows nothing,&rsquo; she said, with an angry nod;
+&lsquo;he is like the beasts.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>And the old gentleman signified acquiescence with his head.&nbsp;
+There was no contempt on her part, and no shame on his; the facts were
+accepted loyally, and no more about the matter.</p>
+<p>I was tightly cross-examined about my journey; and the lady understood
+in a moment, and sketched out what I should put into my book when I
+got home.&nbsp; &lsquo;Whether people harvest or not in such or such
+a place; if there were forests; studies of manners; what, for example,
+I and the master of the house say to you; the beauties of Nature, and
+all that.&rsquo;&nbsp; And she interrogated me with a look.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is just that,&rsquo; said I.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You see,&rsquo; she added to her husband, &lsquo;I understood
+that.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>They were both much interested by the story of my misadventures.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;In the morning,&rsquo; said the husband, &lsquo;I will make
+you something better than your cane.&nbsp; Such a beast as that feels
+nothing; it is in the proverb&mdash;<i>dur comme un</i> <i>&acirc;ne</i>;
+you might beat her insensible with a cudgel, and yet you would arrive
+nowhere.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Something better!&nbsp; I little knew what he was offering.</p>
+<p>The sleeping-room was furnished with two beds.&nbsp; I had one; and
+I will own I was a little abashed to find a young man and his wife and
+child in the act of mounting into the other.&nbsp; This was my first
+experience of the sort; and if I am always to feel equally silly and
+extraneous, I pray God it be my last as well.&nbsp; I kept my eyes to
+myself, and know nothing of the woman except that she had beautiful
+arms, and seemed no whit embarrassed by my appearance.&nbsp; As a matter
+of fact, the situation was more trying to me than to the pair.&nbsp;
+A pair keep each other in countenance; it is the single gentleman who
+has to blush.&nbsp; But I could not help attributing my sentiments to
+the husband, and sought to conciliate his tolerance with a cup of brandy
+from my flask.&nbsp; He told me that he was a cooper of Alais travelling
+to St. Etienne in search of work, and that in his spare moments he followed
+the fatal calling of a maker of matches.&nbsp; Me he readily enough
+divined to be a brandy merchant.</p>
+<p>I was up first in the morning (Monday, September 23rd), and hastened
+my toilette guiltily, so as to leave a clear field for madam, the cooper&rsquo;s
+wife.&nbsp; I drank a bowl of milk, and set off to explore the neighbourhood
+of Bouchet.&nbsp; It was perishing cold, a grey, windy, wintry morning;
+misty clouds flew fast and low; the wind piped over the naked platform;
+and the only speck of colour was away behind Mount M&eacute;zenc and
+the eastern hills, where the sky still wore the orange of the dawn.</p>
+<p>It was five in the morning, and four thousand feet above the sea;
+and I had to bury my hands in my pockets and trot.&nbsp; People were
+trooping out to the labours of the field by twos and threes, and all
+turned round to stare upon the stranger.&nbsp; I had seen them coming
+back last night, I saw them going afield again; and there was the life
+of Bouchet in a nutshell.</p>
+<p>When I came back to the inn for a bit of breakfast, the landlady
+was in the kitchen combing out her daughter&rsquo;s hair; and I made
+her my compliments upon its beauty.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh no,&rsquo; said the mother; &lsquo;it is not so beautiful
+as it ought to be.&nbsp; Look, it is too fine.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Thus does a wise peasantry console itself under adverse physical
+circumstances, and, by a startling democratic process, the defects of
+the majority decide the type of beauty.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And where,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;is monsieur?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The master of the house is upstairs,&rsquo; she answered,
+&lsquo;making you a goad.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Blessed be the man who invented goads!&nbsp; Blessed the innkeeper
+of Bouchet St. Nicolas, who introduced me to their use!&nbsp; This plain
+wand, with an eighth of an inch of pin, was indeed a sceptre when he
+put it in my hands.&nbsp; Thenceforward Modestine was my slave.&nbsp;
+A prick, and she passed the most inviting stable door.&nbsp; A prick,
+and she broke forth into a gallant little trotlet that devoured the
+miles.&nbsp; It was not a remarkable speed, when all was said; and we
+took four hours to cover ten miles at the best of it.&nbsp; But what
+a heavenly change since yesterday!&nbsp; No more wielding of the ugly
+cudgel; no more flailing with an aching arm; no more broadsword exercise,
+but a discreet and gentlemanly fence.&nbsp; And what although now and
+then a drop of blood should appear on Modestine&rsquo;s mouse-coloured
+wedge-like rump?&nbsp; I should have preferred it otherwise, indeed;
+but yesterday&rsquo;s exploits had purged my heart of all humanity.&nbsp;
+The perverse little devil, since she would not be taken with kindness,
+must even go with pricking.</p>
+<p>It was bleak and bitter cold, and, except a cavalcade of stride-legged
+ladies and a pair of post-runners, the road was dead solitary all the
+way to Pradelles.&nbsp; I scarce remember an incident but one.&nbsp;
+A handsome foal with a bell about his neck came charging up to us upon
+a stretch of common, sniffed the air martially as one about to do great
+deeds, and suddenly thinking otherwise in his green young heart, put
+about and galloped off as he had come, the bell tinkling in the wind.&nbsp;
+For a long while afterwards I saw his noble attitude as he drew up,
+and heard the note of his bell; and when I struck the high-road, the
+song of the telegraph-wires seemed to continue the same music.</p>
+<p>Pradelles stands on a hillside, high above the Allier, surrounded
+by rich meadows.&nbsp; They were cutting aftermath on all sides, which
+gave the neighbourhood, this gusty autumn morning, an untimely smell
+of hay.&nbsp; On the opposite bank of the Allier the land kept mounting
+for miles to the horizon: a tanned and sallow autumn landscape, with
+black blots of fir-wood and white roads wandering through the hills.&nbsp;
+Over all this the clouds shed a uniform and purplish shadow, sad and
+somewhat menacing, exaggerating height and distance, and throwing into
+still higher relief the twisted ribbons of the highway.&nbsp; It was
+a cheerless prospect, but one stimulating to a traveller.&nbsp; For
+I was now upon the limit of Velay, and all that I beheld lay in another
+county&mdash;wild G&eacute;vaudan, mountainous, uncultivated, and but
+recently disforested from terror of the wolves.</p>
+<p>Wolves, alas, like bandits, seem to flee the traveller&rsquo;s advance;
+and you may trudge through all our comfortable Europe, and not meet
+with an adventure worth the name.&nbsp; But here, if anywhere, a man
+was on the frontiers of hope.&nbsp; For this was the land of the ever-memorable
+BEAST, the Napoleon Bonaparte of wolves.&nbsp; What a career was his!&nbsp;
+He lived ten months at free quarters in G&eacute;vaudan and Vivarais;
+he ate women and children and &lsquo;shepherdesses celebrated for their
+beauty&rsquo;; he pursued armed horsemen; he has been seen at broad
+noonday chasing a post-chaise and outrider along the king&rsquo;s high-road,
+and chaise and outrider fleeing before him at the gallop.&nbsp; He was
+placarded like a political offender, and ten thousand francs were offered
+for his head.&nbsp; And yet, when he was shot and sent to Versailles,
+behold! a common wolf, and even small for that.&nbsp; &lsquo;Though
+I could reach from pole to pole,&rsquo; sang Alexander Pope; the Little
+Corporal shook Europe; and if all wolves had been as this wolf, they
+would have changed the history of man.&nbsp; M. &Eacute;lie Berthet
+has made him the hero of a novel, which I have read, and do not wish
+to read again.</p>
+<p>I hurried over my lunch, and was proof against the landlady&rsquo;s
+desire that I should visit our Lady of Pradelles, &lsquo;who performed
+many miracles, although she was of wood&rsquo;; and before three-quarters
+of an hour I was goading Modestine down the steep descent that leads
+to Langogne on the Allier.&nbsp; On both sides of the road, in big dusty
+fields, farmers were preparing for next spring.&nbsp; Every fifty yards
+a yoke of great-necked stolid oxen were patiently haling at the plough.&nbsp;
+I saw one of these mild formidable servants of the glebe, who took a
+sudden interest in Modestine and me.&nbsp; The furrow down which he
+was journeying lay at an angle to the road, and his head was solidly
+fixed to the yoke like those of caryatides below a ponderous cornice;
+but he screwed round his big honest eyes and followed us with a ruminating
+look, until his master bade him turn the plough and proceed to reascend
+the field.&nbsp; From all these furrowing ploughshares, from the feet
+of oxen, from a labourer here and there who was breaking the dry clods
+with a hoe, the wind carried away a thin dust like so much smoke.&nbsp;
+It was a fine, busy, breathing, rustic landscape; and as I continued
+to descend, the highlands of G&eacute;vaudan kept mounting in front
+of me against the sky.</p>
+<p>I had crossed the Loire the day before; now I was to cross the Allier;
+so near are these two confluents in their youth.&nbsp; Just at the bridge
+of Langogne, as the long-promised rain was beginning to fall, a lassie
+of some seven or eight addressed me in the sacramental phrase, &lsquo;<i>D&rsquo;o&ugrave;&rsquo;st-ce-que
+vous venez</i>?&rsquo;&nbsp; She did it with so high an air that she
+set me laughing; and this cut her to the quick.&nbsp; She was evidently
+one who reckoned on respect, and stood looking after me in silent dudgeon,
+as I crossed the bridge and entered the county of G&eacute;vaudan.</p>
+<h2>UPPER G&Eacute;VAUDAN</h2>
+<blockquote><p>The way also here was very wearisome through dirt and
+slabbiness; nor was there on all this ground so much as one inn or victualling-house
+wherein to refresh the feebler sort.</p>
+<p>PILGRIM&rsquo;S PROGRESS.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h3>A CAMP IN THE DARK</h3>
+<p>The next day (Tuesday, September 24th), it was two o&rsquo;clock
+in the afternoon before I got my journal written up and my knapsack
+repaired, for I was determined to carry my knapsack in the future and
+have no more ado with baskets; and half an hour afterwards I set out
+for Le Cheylard l&rsquo;&Eacute;v&ecirc;que, a place on the borders
+of the forest of Mercoire.&nbsp; A man, I was told, should walk there
+in an hour and a half; and I thought it scarce too ambitious to suppose
+that a man encumbered with a donkey might cover the same distance in
+four hours.</p>
+<p>All the way up the long hill from Langogne it rained and hailed alternately;
+the wind kept freshening steadily, although slowly; plentiful hurrying
+clouds&mdash;some dragging veils of straight rain-shower, others massed
+and luminous as though promising snow&mdash;careered out of the north
+and followed me along my way.&nbsp; I was soon out of the cultivated
+basin of the Allier, and away from the ploughing oxen, and such-like
+sights of the country.&nbsp; Moor, heathery marsh, tracts of rock and
+pines, woods of birch all jewelled with the autumn yellow, here and
+there a few naked cottages and bleak fields,&mdash;these were the characters
+of the country.&nbsp; Hill and valley followed valley and hill; the
+little green and stony cattle-tracks wandered in and out of one another,
+split into three or four, died away in marshy hollows, and began again
+sporadically on hillsides or at the borders of a wood.</p>
+<p>There was no direct road to Cheylard, and it was no easy affair to
+make a passage in this uneven country and through this intermittent
+labyrinth of tracks.&nbsp; It must have been about four when I struck
+Sagnerousse, and went on my way rejoicing in a sure point of departure.&nbsp;
+Two hours afterwards, the dusk rapidly falling, in a lull of the wind,
+I issued from a fir-wood where I had long been wandering, and found,
+not the looked-for village, but another marish bottom among rough-and-tumble
+hills.&nbsp; For some time past I had heard the ringing of cattle-bells
+ahead; and now, as I came out of the skirts of the wood, I saw near
+upon a dozen cows and perhaps as many more black figures, which I conjectured
+to be children, although the mist had almost unrecognisably exaggerated
+their forms.&nbsp; These were all silently following each other round
+and round in a circle, now taking hands, now breaking up with chains
+and reverences.&nbsp; A dance of children appeals to very innocent and
+lively thoughts; but, at nightfall on the marshes, the thing was eerie
+and fantastic to behold.&nbsp; Even I, who am well enough read in Herbert
+Spencer, felt a sort of silence fall for an instant on my mind.&nbsp;
+The next, I was pricking Modestine forward, and guiding her like an
+unruly ship through the open.&nbsp; In a path, she went doggedly ahead
+of her own accord, as before a fair wind; but once on the turf or among
+heather, and the brute became demented.&nbsp; The tendency of lost travellers
+to go round in a circle was developed in her to the degree of passion,
+and it took all the steering I had in me to keep even a decently straight
+course through a single field.</p>
+<p>While I was thus desperately tacking through the bog, children and
+cattle began to disperse, until only a pair of girls remained behind.&nbsp;
+From these I sought direction on my path.&nbsp; The peasantry in general
+were but little disposed to counsel a wayfarer.&nbsp; One old devil
+simply retired into his house, and barricaded the door on my approach;
+and I might beat and shout myself hoarse, he turned a deaf ear.&nbsp;
+Another, having given me a direction which, as I found afterwards, I
+had misunderstood, complacently watched me going wrong without adding
+a sign.&nbsp; He did not care a stalk of parsley if I wandered all night
+upon the hills!&nbsp; As for these two girls, they were a pair of impudent
+sly sluts, with not a thought but mischief.&nbsp; One put out her tongue
+at me, the other bade me follow the cows; and they both giggled and
+jogged each other&rsquo;s elbows.&nbsp; The Beast of G&eacute;vaudan
+ate about a hundred children of this district; I began to think of him
+with sympathy.</p>
+<p>Leaving the girls, I pushed on through the bog, and got into another
+wood and upon a well-marked road.&nbsp; It grew darker and darker.&nbsp;
+Modestine, suddenly beginning to smell mischief, bettered the pace of
+her own accord, and from that time forward gave me no trouble.&nbsp;
+It was the first sign of intelligence I had occasion to remark in her.&nbsp;
+At the same time, the wind freshened into half a gale, and another heavy
+discharge of rain came flying up out of the north.&nbsp; At the other
+side of the wood I sighted some red windows in the dusk.&nbsp; This
+was the hamlet of Fouzilhic; three houses on a hillside, near a wood
+of birches.&nbsp; Here I found a delightful old man, who came a little
+way with me in the rain to put me safely on the road for Cheylard.&nbsp;
+He would hear of no reward; but shook his hands above his head almost
+as if in menace, and refused volubly and shrilly, in unmitigated <i>patois.</i></p>
+<p>All seemed right at last.&nbsp; My thoughts began to turn upon dinner
+and a fireside, and my heart was agreeably softened in my bosom.&nbsp;
+Alas, and I was on the brink of new and greater miseries!&nbsp; Suddenly,
+at a single swoop, the night fell.&nbsp; I have been abroad in many
+a black night, but never in a blacker.&nbsp; A glimmer of rocks, a glimmer
+of the track where it was well beaten, a certain fleecy density, or
+night within night, for a tree,&mdash;this was all that I could discriminate.&nbsp;
+The sky was simply darkness overhead; even the flying clouds pursued
+their way invisibly to human eyesight.&nbsp; I could not distinguish
+my hand at arm&rsquo;s-length from the track, nor my goad, at the same
+distance, from the meadows or the sky.</p>
+<p>Soon the road that I was following split, after the fashion of the
+country, into three or four in a piece of rocky meadow.&nbsp; Since
+Modestine had shown such a fancy for beaten roads, I tried her instinct
+in this predicament.&nbsp; But the instinct of an ass is what might
+be expected from the name; in half a minute she was clambering round
+and round among some boulders, as lost a donkey as you would wish to
+see.&nbsp; I should have camped long before had I been properly provided;
+but as this was to be so short a stage, I had brought no wine, no bread
+for myself, and little over a pound for my lady friend.&nbsp; Add to
+this, that I and Modestine were both handsomely wetted by the showers.&nbsp;
+But now, if I could have found some water, I should have camped at once
+in spite of all.&nbsp; Water, however, being entirely absent, except
+in the form of rain, I determined to return to Fouzilhic, and ask a
+guide a little farther on my way&mdash;&lsquo;a little farther lend
+thy guiding hand.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The thing was easy to decide, hard to accomplish.&nbsp; In this sensible
+roaring blackness I was sure of nothing but the direction of the wind.&nbsp;
+To this I set my face; the road had disappeared, and I went across country,
+now in marshy opens, now baffled by walls unscalable to Modestine, until
+I came once more in sight of some red windows.&nbsp; This time they
+were differently disposed.&nbsp; It was not Fouzilhic, but Fouzilhac,
+a hamlet little distant from the other in space, but worlds away in
+the spirit of its inhabitants.&nbsp; I tied Modestine to a gate, and
+groped forward, stumbling among rocks, plunging mid-leg in bog, until
+I gained the entrance of the village.&nbsp; In the first lighted house
+there was a woman who would not open to me.&nbsp; She could do nothing,
+she cried to me through the door, being alone and lame; but if I would
+apply at the next house, there was a man who could help me if he had
+a mind.</p>
+<p>They came to the next door in force, a man, two women, and a girl,
+and brought a pair of lanterns to examine the wayfarer.&nbsp; The man
+was not ill-looking, but had a shifty smile.&nbsp; He leaned against
+the doorpost, and heard me state my case.&nbsp; All I asked was a guide
+as far as Cheylard.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>C&rsquo;est que, voyez-vous, il fait noir</i>,&rsquo; said
+he.</p>
+<p>I told him that was just my reason for requiring help.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I understand that,&rsquo; said he, looking uncomfortable;
+&lsquo;<i>mais&mdash;c&rsquo;est&mdash;de la peine</i>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I was willing to pay, I said.&nbsp; He shook his head.&nbsp; I rose
+as high as ten francs; but he continued to shake his head.&nbsp; &lsquo;Name
+your own price, then,&rsquo; said I.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Ce n&rsquo;est pas &ccedil;a</i>,&rsquo; he said at length,
+and with evident difficulty; &lsquo;but I am not going to cross the
+door&mdash;<i>mais je ne sortirai pas de la porte</i>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I grew a little warm, and asked him what he proposed that I should
+do.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Where are you going beyond Cheylard?&rsquo; he asked by way
+of answer.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;That is no affair of yours,&rsquo; I returned, for I was not
+going to indulge his bestial curiosity; &lsquo;it changes nothing in
+my present predicament.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>C&rsquo;est vrai, &ccedil;a</i>,&rsquo; he acknowledged,
+with a laugh; &lsquo;<i>oui, c&rsquo;est vrai.&nbsp; Et d&rsquo;o&ugrave;
+venez-vous</i>?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>A better man than I might have felt nettled.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;I am not going to answer any of
+your questions, so you may spare yourself the trouble of putting them.&nbsp;
+I am late enough already; I want help.&nbsp; If you will not guide me
+yourself, at least help me to find some one else who will.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Hold on,&rsquo; he cried suddenly.&nbsp; &lsquo;Was it not
+you who passed in the meadow while it was still day?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes, yes,&rsquo; said the girl, whom I had not hitherto recognised;
+&lsquo;it was monsieur; I told him to follow the cow.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;As for you, mademoiselle,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;you are a
+<i>farceuse</i>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;And,&rsquo; added the man, &lsquo;what the devil have you
+done to be still here?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>What the devil, indeed!&nbsp; But there I was.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;The great thing,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;is to make an end of
+it&rsquo;; and once more proposed that he should help me to find a guide.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>C&rsquo;est que</i>,&rsquo; he said again, &lsquo;<i>c&rsquo;est
+que&mdash;il fait noir.&rsquo;</i></p>
+<p>&lsquo;Very well,&rsquo; said I; &lsquo;take one of your lanterns.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No,&rsquo; he cried, drawing a thought backward, and again
+intrenching himself behind one of his former phrases; &lsquo;I will
+not cross the door.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I looked at him.&nbsp; I saw unaffected terror struggling on his
+face with unaffected shame; he was smiling pitifully and wetting his
+lip with his tongue, like a detected schoolboy.&nbsp; I drew a brief
+picture of my state, and asked him what I was to do.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rsquo; he said; &lsquo;I will not cross
+the door.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Here was the Beast of G&eacute;vaudan, and no mistake.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Sir,&rsquo; said I, with my most commanding manners, &lsquo;you
+are a coward.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>And with that I turned my back upon the family party, who hastened
+to retire within their fortifications; and the famous door was closed
+again, but not till I had overheard the sound of laughter.&nbsp; <i>Filia
+barbara pater barbarior</i>.&nbsp; Let me say it in the plural: the
+Beasts of G&eacute;vaudan.</p>
+<p>The lanterns had somewhat dazzled me, and I ploughed distressfully
+among stones and rubbish-heaps.&nbsp; All the other houses in the village
+were both dark and silent; and though I knocked at here and there a
+door, my knocking was unanswered.&nbsp; It was a bad business; I gave
+up Fouzilhac with my curses.&nbsp; The rain had stopped, and the wind,
+which still kept rising, began to dry my coat and trousers.&nbsp; &lsquo;Very
+well,&rsquo; thought I, &lsquo;water or no water, I must camp.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+But the first thing was to return to Modestine.&nbsp; I am pretty sure
+I was twenty minutes groping for my lady in the dark; and if it had
+not been for the unkindly services of the bog, into which I once more
+stumbled, I might have still been groping for her at the dawn.&nbsp;
+My next business was to gain the shelter of a wood, for the wind was
+cold as well as boisterous.&nbsp; How, in this well-wooded district,
+I should have been so long in finding one, is another of the insoluble
+mysteries of this day&rsquo;s adventures; but I will take my oath that
+I put near an hour to the discovery.</p>
+<p>At last black trees began to show upon my left, and, suddenly crossing
+the road, made a cave of unmitigated blackness right in front.&nbsp;
+I call it a cave without exaggeration; to pass below that arch of leaves
+was like entering a dungeon.&nbsp; I felt about until my hand encountered
+a stout branch, and to this I tied Modestine, a haggard, drenched, desponding
+donkey.&nbsp; Then I lowered my pack, laid it along the wall on the
+margin of the road, and unbuckled the straps.&nbsp; I knew well enough
+where the lantern was; but where were the candles?&nbsp; I groped and
+groped among the tumbled articles, and, while I was thus groping, suddenly
+I touched the spirit-lamp.&nbsp; Salvation!&nbsp; This would serve my
+turn as well.&nbsp; The wind roared unwearyingly among the trees; I
+could hear the boughs tossing and the leaves churning through half a
+mile of forest; yet the scene of my encampment was not only as black
+as the pit, but admirably sheltered.&nbsp; At the second match the wick
+caught flame.&nbsp; The light was both livid and shifting; but it cut
+me off from the universe, and doubled the darkness of the surrounding
+night.</p>
+<p>I tied Modestine more conveniently for herself, and broke up half
+the black bread for her supper, reserving the other half against the
+morning.&nbsp; Then I gathered what I should want within reach, took
+off my wet boots and gaiters, which I wrapped in my waterproof, arranged
+my knapsack for a pillow under the flap of my sleeping-bag, insinuated
+my limbs into the interior, and buckled myself in like a bambino.&nbsp;
+I opened a tin of Bologna sausage and broke a cake of chocolate, and
+that was all I had to eat.&nbsp; It may sound offensive, but I ate them
+together, bite by bite, by way of bread and meat.&nbsp; All I had to
+wash down this revolting mixture was neat brandy: a revolting beverage
+in itself.&nbsp; But I was rare and hungry; ate well, and smoked one
+of the best cigarettes in my experience.&nbsp; Then I put a stone in
+my straw hat, pulled the flap of my fur cap over my neck and eyes, put
+my revolver ready to my hand, and snuggled well down among the sheepskins.</p>
+<p>I questioned at first if I were sleepy, for I felt my heart beating
+faster than usual, as if with an agreeable excitement to which my mind
+remained a stranger.&nbsp; But as soon as my eyelids touched, that subtle
+glue leaped between them, and they would no more come separate.&nbsp;
+The wind among the trees was my lullaby.&nbsp; Sometimes it sounded
+for minutes together with a steady, even rush, not rising nor abating;
+and again it would swell and burst like a great crashing breaker, and
+the trees would patter me all over with big drops from the rain of the
+afternoon.&nbsp; Night after night, in my own bedroom in the country,
+I have given ear to this perturbing concert of the wind among the woods;
+but whether it was a difference in the trees, or the lie of the ground,
+or because I was myself outside and in the midst of it, the fact remains
+that the wind sang to a different tune among these woods of G&eacute;vaudan.&nbsp;
+I hearkened and hearkened; and meanwhile sleep took gradual possession
+of my body and subdued my thoughts and senses; but still my last waking
+effort was to listen and distinguish, and my last conscious state was
+one of wonder at the foreign clamour in my ears.</p>
+<p>Twice in the course of the dark hours&mdash;once when a stone galled
+me underneath the sack, and again when the poor patient Modestine, growing
+angry, pawed and stamped upon the road&mdash;I was recalled for a brief
+while to consciousness, and saw a star or two overhead, and the lace-like
+edge of the foliage against the sky.&nbsp; When I awoke for the third
+time (Wednesday, September 25th), the world was flooded with a blue
+light, the mother of the dawn.&nbsp; I saw the leaves labouring in the
+wind and the ribbon of the road; and, on turning my head, there was
+Modestine tied to a beech, and standing half across the path in an attitude
+of inimitable patience.&nbsp; I closed my eyes again, and set to thinking
+over the experience of the night.&nbsp; I was surprised to find how
+easy and pleasant it had been, even in this tempestuous weather.&nbsp;
+The stone which annoyed me would not have been there, had I not been
+forced to camp blindfold in the opaque night; and I had felt no other
+inconvenience, except when my feet encountered the lantern or the second
+volume of Peyrat&rsquo;s <i>Pastors of the Desert</i> among the mixed
+contents of my sleeping-bag; nay, more, I had felt not a touch of cold,
+and awakened with unusually lightsome and clear sensations.</p>
+<p>With that, I shook myself, got once more into my boots and gaiters,
+and, breaking up the rest of the bread for Modestine, strolled about
+to see in what part of the world I had awakened.&nbsp; Ulysses, left
+on Ithaca, and with a mind unsettled by the goddess, was not more pleasantly
+astray.&nbsp; I have been after an adventure all my life, a pure dispassionate
+adventure, such as befell early and heroic voyagers; and thus to be
+found by morning in a random woodside nook in G&eacute;vaudan&mdash;not
+knowing north from south, as strange to my surroundings as the first
+man upon the earth, an inland castaway&mdash;was to find a fraction
+of my day-dreams realised.&nbsp; I was on the skirts of a little wood
+of birch, sprinkled with a few beeches; behind, it adjoined another
+wood of fir; and in front, it broke up and went down in open order into
+a shallow and meadowy dale.&nbsp; All around there were bare hilltops,
+some near, some far away, as the perspective closed or opened, but none
+apparently much higher than the rest.&nbsp; The wind huddled the trees.&nbsp;
+The golden specks of autumn in the birches tossed shiveringly.&nbsp;
+Overhead the sky was full of strings and shreds of vapour, flying, vanishing,
+reappearing, and turning about an axis like tumblers, as the wind hounded
+them through heaven.&nbsp; It was wild weather and famishing cold.&nbsp;
+I ate some chocolate, swallowed a mouthful of brandy, and smoked a cigarette
+before the cold should have time to disable my fingers.&nbsp; And by
+the time I had got all this done, and had made my pack and bound it
+on the pack-saddle, the day was tiptoe on the threshold of the east.&nbsp;
+We had not gone many steps along the lane, before the sun, still invisible
+to me, sent a glow of gold over some cloud mountains that lay ranged
+along the eastern sky.</p>
+<p>The wind had us on the stern, and hurried us bitingly forward.&nbsp;
+I buttoned myself into my coat, and walked on in a pleasant frame of
+mind with all men, when suddenly, at a corner, there was Fouzilhic once
+more in front of me.&nbsp; Nor only that, but there was the old gentleman
+who had escorted me so far the night before, running out of his house
+at sight of me, with hands upraised in horror.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My poor boy!&rsquo; he cried, &lsquo;what does this mean?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I told him what had happened.&nbsp; He beat his old hands like clappers
+in a mill, to think how lightly he had let me go; but when he heard
+of the man of Fouzilhac, anger and depression seized upon his mind.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;This time, at least,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;there shall be
+no mistake.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>And he limped along, for he was very rheumatic, for about half a
+mile, and until I was almost within sight of Cheylard, the destination
+I had hunted for so long.</p>
+<h3>CHEYLARD AND LUC</h3>
+<p>Candidly, it seemed little worthy of all this searching.&nbsp; A
+few broken ends of village, with no particular street, but a succession
+of open places heaped with logs and fagots; a couple of tilted crosses,
+a shrine to Our Lady of all Graces on the summit of a little hill; and
+all this, upon a rattling highland river, in the corner of a naked valley.&nbsp;
+What went ye out for to see? thought I to myself.&nbsp; But the place
+had a life of its own.&nbsp; I found a board, commemorating the liberalities
+of Cheylard for the past year, hung up, like a banner, in the diminutive
+and tottering church.&nbsp; In 1877, it appeared, the inhabitants subscribed
+forty-eight francs ten centimes for the &lsquo;Work of the Propagation
+of the Faith.&rsquo;&nbsp; Some of this, I could not help hoping, would
+be applied to my native land.&nbsp; Cheylard scrapes together halfpence
+for the darkened souls in Edinburgh; while Balquhidder and Dunrossness
+bemoan the ignorance of Rome.&nbsp; Thus, to the high entertainment
+of the angels, do we pelt each other with evangelists, like schoolboys
+bickering in the snow.</p>
+<p>The inn was again singularly unpretentious.&nbsp; The whole furniture
+of a not ill-to-do family was in the kitchen: the beds, the cradle,
+the clothes, the plate-rack, the meal-chest, and the photograph of the
+parish priest.&nbsp; There were five children, one of whom was set to
+its morning prayers at the stair-foot soon after my arrival, and a sixth
+would ere long be forthcoming.&nbsp; I was kindly received by these
+good folk.&nbsp; They were much interested in my misadventure.&nbsp;
+The wood in which I had slept belonged to them; the man of Fouzilhac
+they thought a monster of iniquity, and counselled me warmly to summon
+him at law&mdash;&lsquo;because I might have died.&rsquo;&nbsp; The
+good wife was horror-stricken to see me drink over a pint of uncreamed
+milk.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You will do yourself an evil,&rsquo; she said.&nbsp; &lsquo;Permit
+me to boil it for you.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>After I had begun the morning on this delightful liquor, she having
+an infinity of things to arrange, I was permitted, nay requested, to
+make a bowl of chocolate for myself.&nbsp; My boots and gaiters were
+hung up to dry, and, seeing me trying to write my journal on my knee,
+the eldest daughter let down a hinged table in the chimney-corner for
+my convenience.&nbsp; Here I wrote, drank my chocolate, and finally
+ate an omelette before I left.&nbsp; The table was thick with dust;
+for, as they explained, it was not used except in winter weather.&nbsp;
+I had a clear look up the vent, through brown agglomerations of soot
+and blue vapour, to the sky; and whenever a handful of twigs was thrown
+on to the fire, my legs were scorched by the blaze.</p>
+<p>The husband had begun life as a muleteer, and when I came to charge
+Modestine showed himself full of the prudence of his art.&nbsp; &lsquo;You
+will have to change this package,&rsquo; said he; &lsquo;it ought to
+be in two parts, and then you might have double the weight.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I explained that I wanted no more weight; and for no donkey hitherto
+created would I cut my sleeping-bag in two.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It fatigues her, however,&rsquo; said the innkeeper; &lsquo;it
+fatigues her greatly on the march.&nbsp; Look.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Alas, there were her two forelegs no better than raw beef on the
+inside, and blood was running from under her tail.&nbsp; They told me
+when I started, and I was ready to believe it, that before a few days
+I should come to love Modestine like a dog.&nbsp; Three days had passed,
+we had shared some misadventures, and my heart was still as cold as
+a potato towards my beast of burden.&nbsp; She was pretty enough to
+look at; but then she had given proof of dead stupidity, redeemed indeed
+by patience, but aggravated by flashes of sorry and ill-judged light-heartedness.&nbsp;
+And I own this new discovery seemed another point against her.&nbsp;
+What the devil was the good of a she-ass if she could not carry a sleeping-bag
+and a few necessaries?&nbsp; I saw the end of the fable rapidly approaching,
+when I should have to carry Modestine.&nbsp; &AElig;sop was the man
+to know the world!&nbsp; I assure you I set out with heavy thoughts
+upon my short day&rsquo;s march.</p>
+<p>It was not only heavy thoughts about Modestine that weighted me upon
+the way; it was a leaden business altogether.&nbsp; For first, the wind
+blew so rudely that I had to hold on the pack with one hand from Cheylard
+to Luc; and second, my road lay through one of the most beggarly countries
+in the world.&nbsp; It was like the worst of the Scottish Highlands,
+only worse; cold, naked, and ignoble, scant of wood, scant of heather,
+scant of life.&nbsp; A road and some fences broke the unvarying waste,
+and the line of the road was marked by upright pillars, to serve in
+time of snow.</p>
+<p>Why any one should desire to visit either Luc or Cheylard is more
+than my much-inventing spirit can suppose.&nbsp; For my part, I travel
+not to go anywhere, but to go.&nbsp; I travel for travel&rsquo;s sake.&nbsp;
+The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life
+more nearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilisation, and
+find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.&nbsp;
+Alas, as we get up in life, and are more preoccupied with our affairs,
+even a holiday is a thing that must be worked for.&nbsp; To hold a pack
+upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high
+industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind.&nbsp;
+And when the present is so exacting, who can annoy himself about the
+future?</p>
+<p>I came out at length above the Allier.&nbsp; A more unsightly prospect
+at this season of the year it would be hard to fancy.&nbsp; Shelving
+hills rose round it on all sides, here dabbled with wood and fields,
+there rising to peaks alternately naked and hairy with pines.&nbsp;
+The colour throughout was black or ashen, and came to a point in the
+ruins of the castle of Luc, which pricked up impudently from below my
+feet, carrying on a pinnacle a tall white statue of Our Lady, which,
+I heard with interest, weighed fifty quintals, and was to be dedicated
+on the 6th of October.&nbsp; Through this sorry landscape trickled the
+Allier and a tributary of nearly equal size, which came down to join
+it through a broad nude valley in Vivarais.&nbsp; The weather had somewhat
+lightened, and the clouds massed in squadron; but the fierce wind still
+hunted them through heaven, and cast great ungainly splashes of shadow
+and sunlight over the scene.</p>
+<p>Luc itself was a straggling double file of houses wedged between
+hill and river.&nbsp; It had no beauty, nor was there any notable feature,
+save the old castle overhead with its fifty quintals of brand-new Madonna.&nbsp;
+But the inn was clean and large.&nbsp; The kitchen, with its two box-beds
+hung with clean check curtains, with its wide stone chimney, its chimney-shelf
+four yards long and garnished with lanterns and religious statuettes,
+its array of chests and pair of ticking clocks, was the very model of
+what a kitchen ought to be; a melodrama kitchen, suitable for bandits
+or noblemen in disguise.&nbsp; Nor was the scene disgraced by the landlady,
+a handsome, silent, dark old woman, clothed and hooded in black like
+a nun.&nbsp; Even the public bedroom had a character of its own, with
+the long deal tables and benches, where fifty might have dined, set
+out as for a harvest-home, and the three box-beds along the wall.&nbsp;
+In one of these, lying on straw and covered with a pair of table-napkins,
+did I do penance all night long in goose-flesh and chattering teeth,
+and sigh, from time to time as I awakened, for my sheepskin sack and
+the lee of some great wood.</p>
+<h2>OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS</h2>
+<blockquote><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&lsquo;I behold<br />
+The House, the Brotherhood austere&mdash;<br />
+And what am I, that I am here?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>MATTHEW ARNOLD.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h3>FATHER APOLLINARIS</h3>
+<p>Next morning (Thursday, 26th September) I took the road in a new
+order.&nbsp; The sack was no longer doubled, but hung at full length
+across the saddle, a green sausage six feet long with a tuft of blue
+wool hanging out of either end.&nbsp; It was more picturesque, it spared
+the donkey, and, as I began to see, it would ensure stability, blow
+high, blow low.&nbsp; But it was not without a pang that I had so decided.&nbsp;
+For although I had purchased a new cord, and made all as fast as I was
+able, I was yet jealously uneasy lest the flaps should tumble out and
+scatter my effects along the line of march.</p>
+<p>My way lay up the bald valley of the river, along the march of Vivarais
+and G&eacute;vaudan.&nbsp; The hills of G&eacute;vaudan on the right
+were a little more naked, if anything, than those of Vivarais upon the
+left, and the former had a monopoly of a low dotty underwood that grew
+thickly in the gorges and died out in solitary burrs upon the shoulders
+and the summits.&nbsp; Black bricks of fir-wood were plastered here
+and there upon both sides, and here and there were cultivated fields.&nbsp;
+A railway ran beside the river; the only bit of railway in G&eacute;vaudan,
+although there are many proposals afoot and surveys being made, and
+even, as they tell me, a station standing ready built in Mende.&nbsp;
+A year or two hence and this may be another world.&nbsp; The desert
+is beleaguered.&nbsp; Now may some Languedocian Wordsworth turn the
+sonnet into <i>patois</i>: &lsquo;Mountains and vales and floods, heard
+YE that whistle?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>At a place called La Bastide I was directed to leave the river, and
+follow a road that mounted on the left among the hills of Vivarais,
+the modern Ard&egrave;che; for I was now come within a little way of
+my strange destination, the Trappist monastery of Our Lady of the Snows.&nbsp;
+The sun came out as I left the shelter of a pine-wood, and I beheld
+suddenly a fine wild landscape to the south.&nbsp; High rocky hills,
+as blue as sapphire, closed the view, and between these lay ridge upon
+ridge, heathery, craggy, the sun glittering on veins of rock, the underwood
+clambering in the hollows, as rude as God made them at the first.&nbsp;
+There was not a sign of man&rsquo;s hand in all the prospect; and indeed
+not a trace of his passage, save where generation after generation had
+walked in twisted footpaths, in and out among the beeches, and up and
+down upon the channelled slopes.&nbsp; The mists, which had hitherto
+beset me, were now broken into clouds, and fled swiftly and shone brightly
+in the sun.&nbsp; I drew a long breath.&nbsp; It was grateful to come,
+after so long, upon a scene of some attraction for the human heart.&nbsp;
+I own I like definite form in what my eyes are to rest upon; and if
+landscapes were sold, like the sheets of characters of my boyhood, one
+penny plain and twopence coloured, I should go the length of twopence
+every day of my life.</p>
+<p>But if things had grown better to the south, it was still desolate
+and inclement near at hand.&nbsp; A spidery cross on every hill-top
+marked the neighbourhood of a religious house; and a quarter of a mile
+beyond, the outlook southward opening out and growing bolder with every
+step, a white statue of the Virgin at the corner of a young plantation
+directed the traveller to Our Lady of the Snows.&nbsp; Here, then, I
+struck leftward, and pursued my way, driving my secular donkey before
+me, and creaking in my secular boots and gaiters, towards the asylum
+of silence.</p>
+<p>I had not gone very far ere the wind brought to me the clanging of
+a bell, and somehow, I can scarce tell why, my heart sank within me
+at the sound.&nbsp; I have rarely approached anything with more unaffected
+terror than the monastery of Our Lady of the Snows.&nbsp; This it is
+to have had a Protestant education.&nbsp; And suddenly, on turning a
+corner, fear took hold on me from head to foot&mdash;slavish, superstitious
+fear; and though I did not stop in my advance, yet I went on slowly,
+like a man who should have passed a bourne unnoticed, and strayed into
+the country of the dead.&nbsp; For there, upon the narrow new-made road,
+between the stripling pines, was a mediaeval friar, fighting with a
+barrowful of turfs.&nbsp; Every Sunday of my childhood I used to study
+the Hermits of Marco Sadeler&mdash;enchanting prints, full of wood and
+field and mediaeval landscapes, as large as a county, for the imagination
+to go a-travelling in; and here, sure enough, was one of Marco Sadeler&rsquo;s
+heroes.&nbsp; He was robed in white like any spectre, and the hood falling
+back, in the instancy of his contention with the barrow, disclosed a
+pate as bald and yellow as a skull.&nbsp; He might have been buried
+any time these thousand years, and all the lively parts of him resolved
+into earth and broken up with the farmer&rsquo;s harrow.</p>
+<p>I was troubled besides in my mind as to etiquette.&nbsp; Durst I
+address a person who was under a vow of silence?&nbsp; Clearly not.&nbsp;
+But drawing near, I doffed my cap to him with a far-away superstitious
+reverence.&nbsp; He nodded back, and cheerfully addressed me.&nbsp;
+Was I going to the monastery?&nbsp; Who was I?&nbsp; An Englishman?&nbsp;
+Ah, an Irishman, then?</p>
+<p>&lsquo;No,&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;a Scotsman.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>A Scotsman?&nbsp; Ah, he had never seen a Scotsman before.&nbsp;
+And he looked me all over, his good, honest, brawny countenance shining
+with interest, as a boy might look upon a lion or an alligator.&nbsp;
+From him I learned with disgust that I could not be received at Our
+Lady of the Snows; I might get a meal, perhaps, but that was all.&nbsp;
+And then, as our talk ran on, and it turned out that I was not a pedlar,
+but a literary man, who drew landscapes and was going to write a book,
+he changed his manner of thinking as to my reception (for I fear they
+respect persons even in a Trappist monastery), and told me I must be
+sure to ask for the Father Prior, and state my case to him in full.&nbsp;
+On second thoughts he determined to go down with me himself; he thought
+he could manage for me better.&nbsp; Might he say that I was a geographer?</p>
+<p>No; I thought, in the interests of truth, he positively might not.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Very well, then&rsquo; (with disappointment), &lsquo;an author.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>It appeared he had been in a seminary with six young Irishmen, all
+priests long since, who had received newspapers and kept him informed
+of the state of ecclesiastical affairs in England.&nbsp; And he asked
+me eagerly after Dr. Pusey, for whose conversion the good man had continued
+ever since to pray night and morning.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I thought he was very near the truth,&rsquo; he said; &lsquo;and
+he will reach it yet; there is so much virtue in prayer.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He must be a stiff, ungodly Protestant who can take anything but
+pleasure in this kind and hopeful story.&nbsp; While he was thus near
+the subject, the good father asked me if I were a Christian; and when
+he found I was not, or not after his way, he glossed it over with great
+good-will.</p>
+<p>The road which we were following, and which this stalwart father
+had made with his own two hands within the space of a year, came to
+a corner, and showed us some white buildings a little farther on beyond
+the wood.&nbsp; At the same time, the bell once more sounded abroad.&nbsp;
+We were hard upon the monastery.&nbsp; Father Apollinaris (for that
+was my companion&rsquo;s name) stopped me.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I must not speak to you down there,&rsquo; he said.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Ask for the Brother Porter, and all will be well.&nbsp; But try
+to see me as you go out again through the wood, where I may speak to
+you.&nbsp; I am charmed to have made your acquaintance.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>And then suddenly raising his arms, flapping his fingers, and crying
+out twice, &lsquo;I must not speak, I must not speak!&rsquo; he ran
+away in front of me, and disappeared into the monastery door.</p>
+<p>I own this somewhat ghastly eccentricity went a good way to revive
+my terrors.&nbsp; But where one was so good and simple, why should not
+all be alike?&nbsp; I took heart of grace, and went forward to the gate
+as fast as Modestine, who seemed to have a disaffection for monasteries,
+would permit.&nbsp; It was the first door, in my acquaintance of her,
+which she had not shown an indecent haste to enter.&nbsp; I summoned
+the place in form, though with a quaking heart.&nbsp; Father Michael,
+the Father Hospitaller, and a pair of brown-robed brothers came to the
+gate and spoke with me a while.&nbsp; I think my sack was the great
+attraction; it had already beguiled the heart of poor Apollinaris, who
+had charged me on my life to show it to the Father Prior.&nbsp; But
+whether it was my address, or the sack, or the idea speedily published
+among that part of the brotherhood who attend on strangers that I was
+not a pedlar after all, I found no difficulty as to my reception.&nbsp;
+Modestine was led away by a layman to the stables, and I and my pack
+were received into Our Lady of the Snows.</p>
+<h3>THE MONKS</h3>
+<p>Father Michael, a pleasant, fresh-faced, smiling man, perhaps of
+thirty-five, took me to the pantry, and gave me a glass of liqueur to
+stay me until dinner.&nbsp; We had some talk, or rather I should say
+he listened to my prattle indulgently enough, but with an abstracted
+air, like a spirit with a thing of clay.&nbsp; And truly, when I remember
+that I descanted principally on my appetite, and that it must have been
+by that time more than eighteen hours since Father Michael had so much
+as broken bread, I can well understand that he would find an earthly
+savour in my conversation.&nbsp; But his manner, though superior, was
+exquisitely gracious; and I find I have a lurking curiosity as to Father
+Michael&rsquo;s past.</p>
+<p>The whet administered, I was left alone for a little in the monastery
+garden.&nbsp; This is no more than the main court, laid out in sandy
+paths and beds of parti-coloured dahlias, and with a fountain and a
+black statue of the Virgin in the centre.&nbsp; The buildings stand
+around it four-square, bleak, as yet unseasoned by the years and weather,
+and with no other features than a belfry and a pair of slated gables.&nbsp;
+Brothers in white, brothers in brown, passed silently along the sanded
+alleys; and when I first came out, three hooded monks were kneeling
+on the terrace at their prayers.&nbsp; A naked hill commands the monastery
+upon one side, and the wood commands it on the other.&nbsp; It lies
+exposed to wind; the snow falls off and on from October to May, and
+sometimes lies six weeks on end; but if they stood in Eden, with a climate
+like heaven&rsquo;s, the buildings themselves would offer the same wintry
+and cheerless aspect; and for my part, on this wild September day, before
+I was called to dinner, I felt chilly in and out.</p>
+<p>When I had eaten well and heartily, Brother Ambrose, a hearty conversible
+Frenchman (for all those who wait on strangers have the liberty to speak),
+led me to a little room in that part of the building which is set apart
+for <i>MM. les retraitants</i>.&nbsp; It was clean and whitewashed,
+and furnished with strict necessaries, a crucifix, a bust of the late
+Pope, the <i>Imitation</i> in French, a book of religious meditations,
+and the <i>Life of Elizabeth Seton</i>, evangelist, it would appear,
+of North America and of New England in particular.&nbsp; As far as my
+experience goes, there is a fair field for some more evangelisation
+in these quarters; but think of Cotton Mather!&nbsp; I should like to
+give him a reading of this little work in heaven, where I hope he dwells;
+but perhaps he knows all that already, and much more; and perhaps he
+and Mrs. Seton are the dearest friends, and gladly unite their voices
+in the everlasting psalm.&nbsp; Over the table, to conclude the inventory
+of the room, hung a set of regulations for <i>MM. les retraitants</i>:
+what services they should attend, when they were to tell their beads
+or meditate, and when they were to rise and go to rest.&nbsp; At the
+foot was a notable N.B.: &lsquo;<i>Le temps libre est employ&eacute;
+&agrave; l&rsquo;examen de conscience, &agrave; la confession, &agrave;
+faire de bonnes r&eacute;solutions, etc</i>.&rsquo;&nbsp; To make good
+resolutions, indeed!&nbsp; You might talk as fruitfully of making the
+hair grow on your head.</p>
+<p>I had scarce explored my niche when Brother Ambrose returned.&nbsp;
+An English boarder, it appeared, would like to speak with me.&nbsp;
+I professed my willingness, and the friar ushered in a fresh, young,
+little Irishman of fifty, a deacon of the Church, arrayed in strict
+canonicals, and wearing on his head what, in default of knowledge, I
+can only call the ecclesiastical shako.&nbsp; He had lived seven years
+in retreat at a convent of nuns in Belgium, and now five at Our Lady
+of the Snows; he never saw an English newspaper; he spoke French imperfectly,
+and had he spoken it like a native, there was not much chance of conversation
+where he dwelt.&nbsp; With this, he was a man eminently sociable, greedy
+of news, and simple-minded like a child.&nbsp; If I was pleased to have
+a guide about the monastery, he was no less delighted to see an English
+face and hear an English tongue.</p>
+<p>He showed me his own room, where he passed his time among breviaries,
+Hebrew Bibles, and the Waverley Novels.&nbsp; Thence he led me to the
+cloisters, into the chapter-house, through the vestry, where the brothers&rsquo;
+gowns and broad straw hats were hanging up, each with his religious
+name upon a board&mdash;names full of legendary suavity and interest,
+such as Basil, Hilarion, Raphael, or Pacifique; into the library, where
+were all the works of Veuillot and Chateaubriand, and the <i>Odes et</i>
+<i>Ballades</i>, if you please, and even Moli&egrave;re, to say nothing
+of innumerable fathers and a great variety of local and general historians.&nbsp;
+Thence my good Irishman took me round the workshops, where brothers
+bake bread, and make cartwheels, and take photographs; where one superintends
+a collection of curiosities, and another a gallery of rabbits.&nbsp;
+For in a Trappist monastery each monk has an occupation of his own choice,
+apart from his religious duties and the general labours of the house.&nbsp;
+Each must sing in the choir, if he has a voice and ear, and join in
+the haymaking if he has a hand to stir; but in his private hours, although
+he must be occupied, he may be occupied on what he likes.&nbsp; Thus
+I was told that one brother was engaged with literature; while Father
+Apollinaris busies himself in making roads, and the Abbot employs himself
+in binding books.&nbsp; It is not so long since this Abbot was consecrated,
+by the way; and on that occasion, by a special grace, his mother was
+permitted to enter the chapel and witness the ceremony of consecration.&nbsp;
+A proud day for her to have a son a mitred abbot; it makes you glad
+to think they let her in.</p>
+<p>In all these journeyings to and fro, many silent fathers and brethren
+fell in our way.&nbsp; Usually they paid no more regard to our passage
+than if we had been a cloud; but sometimes the good deacon had a permission
+to ask of them, and it was granted by a peculiar movement of the hands,
+almost like that of a dog&rsquo;s paws in swimming, or refused by the
+usual negative signs, and in either case with lowered eyelids and a
+certain air of contrition, as of a man who was steering very close to
+evil.</p>
+<p>The monks, by special grace of their Abbot, were still taking two
+meals a day; but it was already time for their grand fast, which begins
+somewhere in September and lasts till Easter, and during which they
+eat but once in the twenty-four hours, and that at two in the afternoon,
+twelve hours after they have begun the toil and vigil of the day.&nbsp;
+Their meals are scanty, but even of these they eat sparingly; and though
+each is allowed a small carafe of wine, many refrain from this indulgence.&nbsp;
+Without doubt, the most of mankind grossly overeat themselves; our meals
+serve not only for support, but as a hearty and natural diversion from
+the labour of life.&nbsp; Yet, though excess may be hurtful, I should
+have thought this Trappist regimen defective.&nbsp; And I am astonished,
+as I look back, at the freshness of face and cheerfulness of manner
+of all whom I beheld.&nbsp; A happier nor a healthier company I should
+scarce suppose that I have ever seen.&nbsp; As a matter of fact, on
+this bleak upland, and with the incessant occupation of the monks, life
+is of an uncertain tenure, and death no infrequent visitor, at Our Lady
+of the Snows.&nbsp; This, at least, was what was told me.&nbsp; But
+if they die easily, they must live healthily in the meantime, for they
+seemed all firm of flesh and high in colour; and the only morbid sign
+that I could observe, an unusual brilliancy of eye, was one that served
+rather to increase the general impression of vivacity and strength.</p>
+<p>Those with whom I spoke were singularly sweet-tempered, with what
+I can only call a holy cheerfulness in air and conversation.&nbsp; There
+is a note, in the direction to visitors, telling them not to be offended
+at the curt speech of those who wait upon them, since it is proper to
+monks to speak little.&nbsp; The note might have been spared; to a man
+the hospitallers were all brimming with innocent talk, and, in my experience
+of the monastery, it was easier to begin than to break off a conversation.&nbsp;
+With the exception of Father Michael, who was a man of the world, they
+showed themselves full of kind and healthy interest in all sorts of
+subjects&mdash;in politics, in voyages, in my sleeping-sack&mdash;and
+not without a certain pleasure in the sound of their own voices.</p>
+<p>As for those who are restricted to silence, I can only wonder how
+they bear their solemn and cheerless isolation.&nbsp; And yet, apart
+from any view of mortification, I can see a certain policy, not only
+in the exclusion of women, but in this vow of silence.&nbsp; I have
+had some experience of lay phalansteries, of an artistic, not to say
+a bacchanalian character; and seen more than one association easily
+formed and yet more easily dispersed.&nbsp; With a Cistercian rule,
+perhaps they might have lasted longer.&nbsp; In the neighbourhood of
+women it is but a touch-and-go association that can be formed among
+defenceless men; the stronger electricity is sure to triumph; the dreams
+of boyhood, the schemes of youth, are abandoned after an interview of
+ten minutes, and the arts and sciences, and professional male jollity,
+deserted at once for two sweet eyes and a caressing accent.&nbsp; And
+next after this, the tongue is the great divider.</p>
+<p>I am almost ashamed to pursue this worldly criticism of a religious
+rule; but there is yet another point in which the Trappist order appeals
+to me as a model of wisdom.&nbsp; By two in the morning the clapper
+goes upon the bell, and so on, hour by hour, and sometimes quarter by
+quarter, till eight, the hour of rest; so infinitesimally is the day
+divided among different occupations.&nbsp; The man who keeps rabbits,
+for example, hurries from his hutches to the chapel, the chapter-room,
+or the refectory, all day long: every hour he has an office to sing,
+a duty to perform; from two, when he rises in the dark, till eight,
+when he returns to receive the comfortable gift of sleep, he is upon
+his feet and occupied with manifold and changing business.&nbsp; I know
+many persons, worth several thousands in the year, who are not so fortunate
+in the disposal of their lives.&nbsp; Into how many houses would not
+the note of the monastery bell, dividing the day into manageable portions,
+bring peace of mind and healthful activity of body!&nbsp; We speak of
+hardships, but the true hardship is to be a dull fool, and permitted
+to mismanage life in our own dull and foolish manner.</p>
+<p>From this point of view, we may perhaps better understand the monk&rsquo;s
+existence.&nbsp; A long novitiate and every proof of constancy of mind
+and strength of body is required before admission to the order; but
+I could not find that many were discouraged.&nbsp; In the photographer&rsquo;s
+studio, which figures so strangely among the outbuildings, my eye was
+attracted by the portrait of a young fellow in the uniform of a private
+of foot.&nbsp; This was one of the novices, who came of the age for
+service, and marched and drilled and mounted guard for the proper time
+among the garrison of Algiers.&nbsp; Here was a man who had surely seen
+both sides of life before deciding; yet as soon as he was set free from
+service he returned to finish his novitiate.</p>
+<p>This austere rule entitles a man to heaven as by right.&nbsp; When
+the Trappist sickens, he quits not his habit; he lies in the bed of
+death as he has prayed and laboured in his frugal and silent existence;
+and when the Liberator comes, at the very moment, even before they have
+carried him in his robe to lie his little last in the chapel among continual
+chantings, joy-bells break forth, as if for a marriage, from the slated
+belfry, and proclaim throughout the neighbourhood that another soul
+has gone to God.</p>
+<p>At night, under the conduct of my kind Irishman, I took my place
+in the gallery to hear compline and <i>Salve Regina</i>, with which
+the Cistercians bring every day to a conclusion.&nbsp; There were none
+of those circumstances which strike the Protestant as childish or as
+tawdry in the public offices of Rome.&nbsp; A stern simplicity, heightened
+by the romance of the surroundings, spoke directly to the heart.&nbsp;
+I recall the whitewashed chapel, the hooded figures in the choir, the
+lights alternately occluded and revealed, the strong manly singing,
+the silence that ensued, the sight of cowled heads bowed in prayer,
+and then the clear trenchant beating of the bell, breaking in to show
+that the last office was over and the hour of sleep had come; and when
+I remember, I am not surprised that I made my escape into the court
+with somewhat whirling fancies, and stood like a man bewildered in the
+windy starry night.</p>
+<p>But I was weary; and when I had quieted my spirits with Elizabeth
+Seton&rsquo;s memoirs&mdash;a dull work&mdash;the cold and the raving
+of the wind among the pines (for my room was on that side of the monastery
+which adjoins the woods) disposed me readily to slumber.&nbsp; I was
+wakened at black midnight, as it seemed, though it was really two in
+the morning, by the first stroke upon the bell.&nbsp; All the brothers
+were then hurrying to the chapel; the dead in life, at this untimely
+hour, were already beginning the uncomforted labours of their day.&nbsp;
+The dead in life&mdash;there was a chill reflection.&nbsp; And the words
+of a French song came back into my memory, telling of the best of our
+mixed existence:</p>
+<blockquote><p>&lsquo;Que t&rsquo;as de belles filles,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Girofl&eacute;!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Girofla!<br />
+Que t&rsquo;as de belles filles,<br />
+L&rsquo;Amour let comptera!&rsquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>And I blessed God that I was free to wander, free to hope, and free
+to love.</p>
+<h3>THE BOARDERS</h3>
+<p>But there was another side to my residence at Our Lady of the Snows.&nbsp;
+At this late season there were not many boarders; and yet I was not
+alone in the public part of the monastery.&nbsp; This itself is hard
+by the gate, with a small dining-room on the ground-floor and a whole
+corridor of cells similar to mine upstairs.&nbsp; I have stupidly forgotten
+the board for a regular <i>retraitant</i>; but it was somewhere between
+three and five francs a day, and I think most probably the first.&nbsp;
+Chance visitors like myself might give what they chose as a free-will
+offering, but nothing was demanded.&nbsp; I may mention that when I
+was going away, Father Michael refused twenty francs as excessive.&nbsp;
+I explained the reasoning which led me to offer him so much; but even
+then, from a curious point of honour, he would not accept it with his
+own hand.&nbsp; &lsquo;I have no right to refuse for the monastery,&rsquo;
+he explained, &lsquo;but I should prefer if you would give it to one
+of the brothers.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I had dined alone, because I arrived late; but at supper I found
+two other guests.&nbsp; One was a country parish priest, who had walked
+over that morning from the seat of his cure near Mende to enjoy four
+days of solitude and prayer.&nbsp; He was a grenadier in person, with
+the hale colour and circular wrinkles of a peasant; and as he complained
+much of how he had been impeded by his skirts upon the march, I have
+a vivid fancy portrait of him, striding along, upright, big-boned, with
+kilted cassock, through the bleak hills of G&eacute;vaudan.&nbsp; The
+other was a short, grizzling, thick-set man, from forty-five to fifty,
+dressed in tweed with a knitted spencer, and the red ribbon of a decoration
+in his button-hole.&nbsp; This last was a hard person to classify.&nbsp;
+He was an old soldier, who had seen service and risen to the rank of
+commandant; and he retained some of the brisk decisive manners of the
+camp.&nbsp; On the other hand, as soon as his resignation was accepted,
+he had come to Our Lady of the Snows as a boarder, and, after a brief
+experience of its ways, had decided to remain as a novice.&nbsp; Already
+the new life was beginning to modify his appearance; already he had
+acquired somewhat of the quiet and smiling air of the brethren; and
+he was as yet neither an officer nor a Trappist, but partook of the
+character of each.&nbsp; And certainly here was a man in an interesting
+nick of life.&nbsp; Out of the noise of cannon and trumpets, he was
+in the act of passing into this still country bordering on the grave,
+where men sleep nightly in their grave-clothes, and, like phantoms,
+communicate by signs.</p>
+<p>At supper we talked politics.&nbsp; I make it my business, when I
+am in France, to preach political good-will and moderation, and to dwell
+on the example of Poland, much as some alarmists in England dwell on
+the example of Carthage.&nbsp; The priest and the commandant assured
+me of their sympathy with all I said, and made a heavy sighing over
+the bitterness of contemporary feeling.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why, you cannot say anything to a man with which he does not
+absolutely agree,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;but he flies up at you in a
+temper.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>They both declared that such a state of things was antichristian.</p>
+<p>While we were thus agreeing, what should my tongue stumble upon but
+a word in praise of Gambetta&rsquo;s moderation.&nbsp; The old soldier&rsquo;s
+countenance was instantly suffused with blood; with the palms of his
+hands he beat the table like a naughty child.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Comment</i>, <i>monsieur</i>?&rsquo; he shouted.&nbsp;
+<i>&lsquo;Comment</i>?&nbsp; Gambetta moderate?&nbsp; Will you dare
+to justify these words?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>But the priest had not forgotten the tenor of our talk.&nbsp; And
+suddenly, in the height of his fury, the old soldier found a warning
+look directed on his face; the absurdity of his behaviour was brought
+home to him in a flash; and the storm came to an abrupt end, without
+another word.</p>
+<p>It was only in the morning, over our coffee (Friday, September 27th),
+that this couple found out I was a heretic.&nbsp; I suppose I had misled
+them by some admiring expressions as to the monastic life around us;
+and it was only by a point-blank question that the truth came out.&nbsp;
+I had been tolerantly used both by simple Father Apollinaris and astute
+Father Michael; and the good Irish deacon, when he heard of my religious
+weakness, had only patted me upon the shoulder and said, &lsquo;You
+must be a Catholic and come to heaven.&rsquo;&nbsp; But I was now among
+a different sect of orthodox.&nbsp; These two men were bitter and upright
+and narrow, like the worst of Scotsmen, and indeed, upon my heart, I
+fancy they were worse.&nbsp; The priest snorted aloud like a battle-horse.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Et vous pr&eacute;tendez mourir dans cette esp&egrave;ce
+de</i> <i>croyance</i>?&rsquo; he demanded; and there is no type used
+by mortal printers large enough to qualify his accent.</p>
+<p>I humbly indicated that I had no design of changing.</p>
+<p>But he could not away with such a monstrous attitude.&nbsp; &lsquo;No,
+no,&rsquo; he cried; &lsquo;you must change.&nbsp; You have come here,
+God has led you here, and you must embrace the opportunity.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I made a slip in policy; I appealed to the family affections, though
+I was speaking to a priest and a soldier, two classes of men circumstantially
+divorced from the kind and homely ties of life.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Your father and mother?&rsquo; cried the priest.&nbsp; &lsquo;Very
+well; you will convert them in their turn when you go home.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I think I see my father&rsquo;s face!&nbsp; I would rather tackle
+the Gaetulian lion in his den than embark on such an enterprise against
+the family theologian.</p>
+<p>But now the hunt was up; priest and soldier were in full cry for
+my conversion; and the Work of the Propagation of the Faith, for which
+the people of Cheylard subscribed forty-eight francs ten centimes during
+1877, was being gallantly pursued against myself.&nbsp; It was an odd
+but most effective proselytising.&nbsp; They never sought to convince
+me in argument, where I might have attempted some defence; but took
+it for granted that I was both ashamed and terrified at my position,
+and urged me solely on the point of time.&nbsp; Now, they said, when
+God had led me to Our Lady of the Snows, now was the appointed hour.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Do not be withheld by false shame,&rsquo; observed the priest,
+for my encouragement.</p>
+<p>For one who feels very similarly to all sects of religion, and who
+has never been able, even for a moment, to weigh seriously the merit
+of this or that creed on the eternal side of things, however much he
+may see to praise or blame upon the secular and temporal side, the situation
+thus created was both unfair and painful.&nbsp; I committed my second
+fault in tact, and tried to plead that it was all the same thing in
+the end, and we were all drawing near by different sides to the same
+kind and undiscriminating Friend and Father.&nbsp; That, as it seems
+to lay spirits, would be the only gospel worthy of the name.&nbsp; But
+different men think differently; and this revolutionary aspiration brought
+down the priest with all the terrors of the law.&nbsp; He launched into
+harrowing details of hell.&nbsp; The damned, he said&mdash;on the authority
+of a little book which he had read not a week before, and which, to
+add conviction to conviction, he had fully intended to bring along with
+him in his pocket&mdash;were to occupy the same attitude through all
+eternity in the midst of dismal tortures.&nbsp; And as he thus expatiated,
+he grew in nobility of aspect with his enthusiasm.</p>
+<p>As a result the pair concluded that I should seek out the Prior,
+since the Abbot was from home, and lay my case immediately before him.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>C&rsquo;est mon conseil comme ancien</i> <i>militaire</i>,&rsquo;
+observed the commandant; &lsquo;<i>et celui de monsieur</i> <i>comme</i>
+<i>pr&ecirc;tre</i>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Oui</i>,&rsquo; added the <i>cur&eacute;</i>, sententiously
+nodding; &lsquo;<i>comme</i> <i>ancien militaire&mdash;et comme pr&ecirc;tre</i>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>At this moment, whilst I was somewhat embarrassed how to answer,
+in came one of the monks, a little brown fellow, as lively as a grig,
+and with an Italian accent, who threw himself at once into the contention,
+but in a milder and more persuasive vein, as befitted one of these pleasant
+brethren.&nbsp; Look at <i>him</i>, he said.&nbsp; The rule was very
+hard; he would have dearly liked to stay in his own country, Italy&mdash;it
+was well known how beautiful it was, the beautiful Italy; but then there
+were no Trappists in Italy; and he had a soul to save; and here he was.</p>
+<p>I am afraid I must be at bottom, what a cheerful Indian critic has
+dubbed me, &lsquo;a faddling hedonist,&rsquo; for this description of
+the brother&rsquo;s motives gave me somewhat of a shock.&nbsp; I should
+have preferred to think he had chosen the life for its own sake, and
+not for ulterior purposes; and this shows how profoundly I was out of
+sympathy with these good Trappists, even when I was doing my best to
+sympathise.&nbsp; But to the <i>cur&eacute;</i> the argument seemed
+decisive.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Hear that!&rsquo; he cried.&nbsp; &lsquo;And I have seen a
+marquis here, a marquis, a marquis&rsquo;&mdash;he repeated the holy
+word three times over&mdash;&lsquo;and other persons high in society;
+and generals.&nbsp; And here, at your side, is this gentleman, who has
+been so many years in armies&mdash;decorated, an old warrior.&nbsp;
+And here he is, ready to dedicate himself to God.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I was by this time so thoroughly embarrassed that I pled cold feet,
+and made my escape from the apartment.&nbsp; It was a furious windy
+morning, with a sky much cleared, and long and potent intervals of sunshine;
+and I wandered until dinner in the wild country towards the east, sorely
+staggered and beaten upon by the gale, but rewarded with some striking
+views.</p>
+<p>At dinner the Work of the Propagation of the Faith was recommenced,
+and on this occasion still more distastefully to me.&nbsp; The priest
+asked me many questions as to the contemptible faith of my fathers,
+and received my replies with a kind of ecclesiastical titter.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Your sect,&rsquo; he said once; &lsquo;for I think you will
+admit it would be doing it too much honour to call it a religion.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;As you please, monsieur,&rsquo; said I.&nbsp; &lsquo;<i>La
+parole est &agrave; vous</i>.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>At length I grew annoyed beyond endurance; and although he was on
+his own ground and, what is more to the purpose, an old man, and so
+holding a claim upon my toleration, I could not avoid a protest against
+this uncivil usage.&nbsp; He was sadly discountenanced.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I assure you,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;I have no inclination
+to laugh in my heart.&nbsp; I have no other feeling but interest in
+your soul.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>And there ended my conversion.&nbsp; Honest man! he was no dangerous
+deceiver; but a country parson, full of zeal and faith.&nbsp; Long may
+he tread G&eacute;vaudan with his kilted skirts&mdash;a man strong to
+walk and strong to comfort his parishioners in death!&nbsp; I daresay
+he would beat bravely through a snowstorm where his duty called him;
+and it is not always the most faithful believer who makes the cunningest
+apostle.</p>
+<h3>UPPER G&Eacute;VAUDAN (continued)</h3>
+<blockquote><p>The bed was made, the room was fit,<br />
+By punctual eve the stars were lit;<br />
+The air was still, the water ran;<br />
+No need there was for maid or man,<br />
+When we put up, my ass and I,<br />
+At God&rsquo;s green caravanserai.</p>
+<p>OLD PLAY.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h3>ACROSS THE GOULET</h3>
+<p>The wind fell during dinner, and the sky remained clear; so it was
+under better auspices that I loaded Modestine before the monastery gate.&nbsp;
+My Irish friend accompanied me so far on the way.&nbsp; As we came through
+the wood, there was P&egrave;re Apollinaire hauling his barrow; and
+he too quitted his labours to go with me for perhaps a hundred yards,
+holding my hand between both of his in front of him.&nbsp; I parted
+first from one and then from the other with unfeigned regret, but yet
+with the glee of the traveller who shakes off the dust of one stage
+before hurrying forth upon another.&nbsp; Then Modestine and I mounted
+the course of the Allier, which here led us back into G&eacute;vaudan
+towards its sources in the forest of Mercoire.&nbsp; It was but an inconsiderable
+burn before we left its guidance.&nbsp; Thence, over a hill, our way
+lay through a naked plateau, until we reached Chasserad&egrave;s at
+sundown.</p>
+<p>The company in the inn kitchen that night were all men employed in
+survey for one of the projected railways.&nbsp; They were intelligent
+and conversible, and we decided the future of France over hot wine,
+until the state of the clock frightened us to rest.&nbsp; There were
+four beds in the little upstairs room; and we slept six.&nbsp; But I
+had a bed to myself, and persuaded them to leave the window open.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>H&eacute;, bourgeois; il est cinq heures</i>!&rsquo; was
+the cry that wakened me in the morning (Saturday, September 28th).&nbsp;
+The room was full of a transparent darkness, which dimly showed me the
+other three beds and the five different nightcaps on the pillows.&nbsp;
+But out of the window the dawn was growing ruddy in a long belt over
+the hill-tops, and day was about to flood the plateau.&nbsp; The hour
+was inspiriting; and there seemed a promise of calm weather, which was
+perfectly fulfilled.&nbsp; I was soon under way with Modestine.&nbsp;
+The road lay for a while over the plateau, and then descended through
+a precipitous village into the valley of the Chassezac.&nbsp; This stream
+ran among green meadows, well hidden from the world by its steep banks;
+the broom was in flower, and here and there was a hamlet sending up
+its smoke.</p>
+<p>At last the path crossed the Chassezac upon a bridge, and, forsaking
+this deep hollow, set itself to cross the mountain of La Goulet.&nbsp;
+It wound up through Lestampes by upland fields and woods of beech and
+birch, and with every corner brought me into an acquaintance with some
+new interest.&nbsp; Even in the gully of the Chassezac my ear had been
+struck by a noise like that of a great bass bell ringing at the distance
+of many miles; but this, as I continued to mount and draw nearer to
+it, seemed to change in character, and I found at length that it came
+from some one leading flocks afield to the note of a rural horn.&nbsp;
+The narrow street of Lestampes stood full of sheep, from wall to wall&mdash;black
+sheep and white, bleating with one accord like the birds in spring,
+and each one accompanying himself upon the sheep-bell round his neck.&nbsp;
+It made a pathetic concert, all in treble.&nbsp; A little higher, and
+I passed a pair of men in a tree with pruning-hooks, and one of them
+was singing the music of a <i>bourr&eacute;e</i>.&nbsp; Still further,
+and when I was already threading the birches, the crowing of cocks came
+cheerfully up to my ears, and along with that the voice of a flute discoursing
+a deliberate and plaintive air from one of the upland villages.&nbsp;
+I pictured to myself some grizzled, apple-cheeked, country schoolmaster
+fluting in his bit of a garden in the clear autumn sunshine.&nbsp; All
+these beautiful and interesting sounds filled my heart with an unwonted
+expectation; and it appeared to me that, once past this range which
+I was mounting, I should descend into the garden of the world.&nbsp;
+Nor was I deceived, for I was now done with rains and winds and a bleak
+country.&nbsp; The first part of my journey ended here; and this was
+like an induction of sweet sounds into the other and more beautiful.</p>
+<p>There are other degrees of <i>feyness</i>, as of punishment, besides
+the capital; and I was now led by my good spirits into an adventure
+which I relate in the interest of future donkey-drivers.&nbsp; The road
+zigzagged so widely on the hillside, that I chose a short cut by map
+and compass, and struck through the dwarf woods to catch the road again
+upon a higher level.&nbsp; It was my one serious conflict with Modestine.&nbsp;
+She would none of my short cut; she turned in my face; she backed, she
+reared; she, whom I had hitherto imagined to be dumb, actually brayed
+with a loud hoarse flourish, like a cock crowing for the dawn.&nbsp;
+I plied the goad with one hand; with the other, so steep was the ascent,
+I had to hold on the pack-saddle.&nbsp; Half-a-dozen times she was nearly
+over backwards on the top of me; half-a-dozen times, from sheer weariness
+of spirit, I was nearly giving it up, and leading her down again to
+follow the road.&nbsp; But I took the thing as a wager, and fought it
+through.&nbsp; I was surprised, as I went on my way again, by what appeared
+to be chill rain-drops falling on my hand, and more than once looked
+up in wonder at the cloudless sky.&nbsp; But it was only sweat which
+came dropping from my brow.</p>
+<p>Over the summit of the Goulet there was no marked road&mdash;only
+upright stones posted from space to space to guide the drovers.&nbsp;
+The turf underfoot was springy and well scented.&nbsp; I had no company
+but a lark or two, and met but one bullock-cart between Lestampes and
+Bleymard.&nbsp; In front of me I saw a shallow valley, and beyond that
+the range of the Loz&egrave;re, sparsely wooded and well enough modelled
+in the flanks, but straight and dull in outline.&nbsp; There was scarce
+a sign of culture; only about Bleymard, the white high-road from Villefort
+to Mende traversed a range of meadows, set with spiry poplars, and sounding
+from side to side with the bells of flocks and herds.</p>
+<h3>A NIGHT AMONG THE PINES</h3>
+<p>From Bleymard after dinner, although it was already late, I set out
+to scale a portion of the Loz&egrave;re.&nbsp; An ill-marked stony drove-road
+guided me forward; and I met nearly half-a-dozen bullock-carts descending
+from the woods, each laden with a whole pine-tree for the winter&rsquo;s
+firing.&nbsp; At the top of the woods, which do not climb very high
+upon this cold ridge, I struck leftward by a path among the pines, until
+I hit on a dell of green turf, where a streamlet made a little spout
+over some stones to serve me for a water-tap.&nbsp; &lsquo;In a more
+sacred or sequestered bower . . . nor nymph nor faunus haunted.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+The trees were not old, but they grew thickly round the glade: there
+was no outlook, except north-eastward upon distant hill-tops, or straight
+upward to the sky; and the encampment felt secure and private like a
+room.&nbsp; By the time I had made my arrangements and fed Modestine,
+the day was already beginning to decline.&nbsp; I buckled myself to
+the knees into my sack and made a hearty meal; and as soon as the sun
+went down, I pulled my cap over my eyes and fell asleep.</p>
+<p>Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world
+it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours
+are marked by changes in the face of Nature.&nbsp; What seems a kind
+of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only
+a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield.&nbsp; All night
+long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes
+her rest, she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown
+to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over
+the sleeping hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet.&nbsp;
+It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the
+dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night.&nbsp;
+Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides,
+and change to a new lair among the ferns; and houseless men, who have
+lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty
+of the night.</p>
+<p>At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature, are all
+these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to life?&nbsp; Do the
+stars rain down an influence, or do we share some thrill of mother earth
+below our resting bodies?&nbsp; Even shepherds and old country-folk,
+who are the deepest read in these arcana, have not a guess as to the
+means or purpose of this nightly resurrection.&nbsp; Towards two in
+the morning they declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor
+inquire further.&nbsp; And at least it is a pleasant incident.&nbsp;
+We are disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne,
+&lsquo;that we may the better and more sensibly relish it.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+We have a moment to look upon the stars.&nbsp; And there is a special
+pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the impulse
+with all outdoor creatures in our neighbourhood, that we have escaped
+out of the Bastille of civilisation, and are become, for the time being,
+a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature&rsquo;s flock.</p>
+<p>When that hour came to me among the pines, I wakened thirsty.&nbsp;
+My tin was standing by me half full of water.&nbsp; I emptied it at
+a draught; and feeling broad awake after this internal cold aspersion,
+sat upright to make a cigarette.&nbsp; The stars were clear, coloured,
+and jewel-like, but not frosty.&nbsp; A faint silvery vapour stood for
+the Milky Way.&nbsp; All around me the black fir-points stood upright
+and stock-still.&nbsp; By the whiteness of the pack-saddle, I could
+see Modestine walking round and round at the length of her tether; I
+could hear her steadily munching at the sward; but there was not another
+sound, save the indescribable quiet talk of the runnel over the stones.&nbsp;
+I lay lazily smoking and studying the colour of the sky, as we call
+the void of space, from where it showed a reddish grey behind the pines
+to where it showed a glossy blue-black between the stars.&nbsp; As if
+to be more like a pedlar, I wear a silver ring.&nbsp; This I could see
+faintly shining as I raised or lowered the cigarette; and at each whiff
+the inside of my hand was illuminated, and became for a second the highest
+light in the landscape.</p>
+<p>A faint wind, more like a moving coolness than a stream of air, passed
+down the glade from time to time; so that even in my great chamber the
+air was being renewed all night long.&nbsp; I thought with horror of
+the inn at Chasserad&egrave;s and the congregated nightcaps; with horror
+of the nocturnal prowesses of clerks and students, of hot theatres and
+pass-keys and close rooms.&nbsp; I have not often enjoyed a more serene
+possession of myself, nor felt more independent of material aids.&nbsp;
+The outer world, from which we cower into our houses, seemed after all
+a gentle habitable place; and night after night a man&rsquo;s bed, it
+seemed, was laid and waiting for him in the fields, where God keeps
+an open house.&nbsp; I thought I had rediscovered one of those truths
+which are revealed to savages and hid from political economists: at
+the least, I had discovered a new pleasure for myself.&nbsp; And yet
+even while I was exulting in my solitude I became aware of a strange
+lack.&nbsp; I wished a companion to lie near me in the starlight, silent
+and not moving, but ever within touch.&nbsp; For there is a fellowship
+more quiet even than solitude, and which, rightly understood, is solitude
+made perfect.&nbsp; And to live out of doors with the woman a man loves
+is of all lives the most complete and free.</p>
+<p>As I thus lay, between content and longing, a faint noise stole towards
+me through the pines.&nbsp; I thought, at first, it was the crowing
+of cocks or the barking of dogs at some very distant farm; but steadily
+and gradually it took articulate shape in my ears, until I became aware
+that a passenger was going by upon the high-road in the valley, and
+singing loudly as he went.&nbsp; There was more of good-will than grace
+in his performance; but he trolled with ample lungs; and the sound of
+his voice took hold upon the hillside and set the air shaking in the
+leafy glens.&nbsp; I have heard people passing by night in sleeping
+cities; some of them sang; one, I remember, played loudly on the bagpipes.&nbsp;
+I have heard the rattle of a cart or carriage spring up suddenly after
+hours of stillness, and pass, for some minutes, within the range of
+my hearing as I lay abed.&nbsp; There is a romance about all who are
+abroad in the black hours, and with something of a thrill we try to
+guess their business.&nbsp; But here the romance was double: first,
+this glad passenger, lit internally with wine, who sent up his voice
+in music through the night; and then I, on the other hand, buckled into
+my sack, and smoking alone in the pine-woods between four and five thousand
+feet towards the stars.</p>
+<p>When I awoke again (Sunday, 29th September), many of the stars had
+disappeared; only the stronger companions of the night still burned
+visibly overhead; and away towards the east I saw a faint haze of light
+upon the horizon, such as had been the Milky Way when I was last awake.&nbsp;
+Day was at hand.&nbsp; I lit my lantern, and by its glow-worm light
+put on my boots and gaiters; then I broke up some bread for Modestine,
+filled my can at the water-tap, and lit my spirit-lamp to boil myself
+some chocolate.&nbsp; The blue darkness lay long in the glade where
+I had so sweetly slumbered; but soon there was a broad streak of orange
+melting into gold along the mountain-tops of Vivarais.&nbsp; A solemn
+glee possessed my mind at this gradual and lovely coming in of day.&nbsp;
+I heard the runnel with delight; I looked round me for something beautiful
+and unexpected; but the still black pine-trees, the hollow glade, the
+munching ass, remained unchanged in figure.&nbsp; Nothing had altered
+but the light, and that, indeed, shed over all a spirit of life and
+of breathing peace, and moved me to a strange exhilaration.</p>
+<p>I drank my water-chocolate, which was hot if it was not rich, and
+strolled here and there, and up and down about the glade.&nbsp; While
+I was thus delaying, a gush of steady wind, as long as a heavy sigh,
+poured direct out of the quarter of the morning.&nbsp; It was cold,
+and set me sneezing.&nbsp; The trees near at hand tossed their black
+plumes in its passage; and I could see the thin distant spires of pine
+along the edge of the hill rock slightly to and fro against the golden
+east.&nbsp; Ten minutes after, the sunlight spread at a gallop along
+the hillside, scattering shadows and sparkles, and the day had come
+completely.</p>
+<p>I hastened to prepare my pack, and tackle the steep ascent that lay
+before me; but I had something on my mind.&nbsp; It was only a fancy;
+yet a fancy will sometimes be importunate.&nbsp; I had been most hospitably
+received and punctually served in my green caravanserai.&nbsp; The room
+was airy, the water excellent, and the dawn had called me to a moment.&nbsp;
+I say nothing of the tapestries or the inimitable ceiling, nor yet of
+the view which I commanded from the windows; but I felt I was in some
+one&rsquo;s debt for all this liberal entertainment.&nbsp; And so it
+pleased me, in a half-laughing way, to leave pieces of money on the
+turf as I went along, until I had left enough for my night&rsquo;s lodging.&nbsp;
+I trust they did not fall to some rich and churlish drover.</p>
+<h2>THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS</h2>
+<blockquote><p>We travelled in the print of olden wars;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Yet all the land was green;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And love we found, and peace,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where fire and war had been.<br />
+They pass and smile, the children of the sword&mdash;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; No more the sword they wield;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And O, how deep the corn<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Along the battlefield!</p>
+<p>W. P. BANNATYNE.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h3>ACROSS THE LOZ&Egrave;RE</h3>
+<p>The track that I had followed in the evening soon died out, and I
+continued to follow over a bald turf ascent a row of stone pillars,
+such as had conducted me across the Goulet.&nbsp; It was already warm.&nbsp;
+I tied my jacket on the pack, and walked in my knitted waistcoat.&nbsp;
+Modestine herself was in high spirits, and broke of her own accord,
+for the first time in my experience, into a jolting trot that set the
+oats swashing in the pocket of my coat.&nbsp; The view, back upon the
+northern G&eacute;vaudan, extended with every step; scarce a tree, scarce
+a house, appeared upon the fields of wild hill that ran north, east,
+and west, all blue and gold in the haze and sunlight of the morning.&nbsp;
+A multitude of little birds kept sweeping and twittering about my path;
+they perched on the stone pillars, they pecked and strutted on the turf,
+and I saw them circle in volleys in the blue air, and show, from time
+to time, translucent flickering wings between the sun and me.</p>
+<p>Almost from the first moment of my march, a faint large noise, like
+a distant surf, had filled my ears.&nbsp; Sometimes I was tempted to
+think it the voice of a neighbouring waterfall, and sometimes a subjective
+result of the utter stillness of the hill.&nbsp; But as I continued
+to advance, the noise increased, and became like the hissing of an enormous
+tea-urn, and at the same time breaths of cool air began to reach me
+from the direction of the summit.&nbsp; At length I understood.&nbsp;
+It was blowing stiffly from the south upon the other slope of the Loz&egrave;re,
+and every step that I took I was drawing nearer to the wind.</p>
+<p>Although it had been long desired, it was quite unexpectedly at last
+that my eyes rose above the summit.&nbsp; A step that seemed no way
+more decisive than many other steps that had preceded it&mdash;and,
+&lsquo;like stout Cortez when, with eagle eyes, he stared on the Pacific,&rsquo;
+I took possession, in my own name, of a new quarter of the world.&nbsp;
+For behold, instead of the gross turf rampart I had been mounting for
+so long, a view into the hazy air of heaven, and a land of intricate
+blue hills below my feet.</p>
+<p>The Loz&egrave;re lies nearly east and west, cutting G&eacute;vaudan
+into two unequal parts; its highest point, this Pic de Finiels, on which
+I was then standing, rises upwards of five thousand six hundred feet
+above the sea, and in clear weather commands a view over all lower Languedoc
+to the Mediterranean Sea.&nbsp; I have spoken with people who either
+pretended or believed that they had seen, from the Pic de Finiels, white
+ships sailing by Montpellier and Cette.&nbsp; Behind was the upland
+northern country through which my way had lain, peopled by a dull race,
+without wood, without much grandeur of hill-form, and famous in the
+past for little beside wolves.&nbsp; But in front of me, half veiled
+in sunny haze, lay a new G&eacute;vaudan, rich, picturesque, illustrious
+for stirring events.&nbsp; Speaking largely, I was in the Cevennes at
+Monastier, and during all my journey; but there is a strict and local
+sense in which only this confused and shaggy country at my feet has
+any title to the name, and in this sense the peasantry employ the word.&nbsp;
+These are the Cevennes with an emphasis: the Cevennes of the Cevennes.&nbsp;
+In that undecipherable labyrinth of hills, a war of bandits, a war of
+wild beasts, raged for two years between the Grand Monarch with all
+his troops and marshals on the one hand, and a few thousand Protestant
+mountaineers upon the other.&nbsp; A hundred and eighty years ago, the
+Camisards held a station even on the Loz&egrave;re, where I stood; they
+had an organisation, arsenals, a military and religious hierarchy; their
+affairs were &lsquo;the discourse of every coffee-house&rsquo; in London;
+England sent fleets in their support; their leaders prophesied and murdered;
+with colours and drums, and the singing of old French psalms, their
+bands sometimes affronted daylight, marched before walled cities, and
+dispersed the generals of the king; and sometimes at night, or in masquerade,
+possessed themselves of strong castles, and avenged treachery upon their
+allies and cruelty upon their foes.&nbsp; There, a hundred and eighty
+years ago, was the chivalrous Roland, &lsquo;Count and Lord Roland,
+generalissimo of the Protestants in France,&rsquo; grave, silent, imperious,
+pock-marked ex-dragoon, whom a lady followed in his wanderings out of
+love.&nbsp; There was Cavalier, a baker&rsquo;s apprentice with a genius
+for war, elected brigadier of Camisards at seventeen, to die at fifty-five
+the English governor of Jersey.&nbsp; There again was Castanet, a partisan
+leader in a voluminous peruke and with a taste for controversial divinity.&nbsp;
+Strange generals, who moved apart to take counsel with the God of Hosts,
+and fled or offered battle, set sentinels or slept in an unguarded camp,
+as the Spirit whispered to their hearts!&nbsp; And there, to follow
+these and other leaders, was the rank and file of prophets and disciples,
+bold, patient, indefatigable, hardy to run upon the mountains, cheering
+their rough life with psalms, eager to fight, eager to pray, listening
+devoutly to the oracles of brain-sick children, and mystically putting
+a grain of wheat among the pewter balls with which they charged their
+muskets.</p>
+<p>I had travelled hitherto through a dull district, and in the track
+of nothing more notable than the child-eating beast of G&eacute;vaudan,
+the Napoleon Bonaparte of wolves.&nbsp; But now I was to go down into
+the scene of a romantic chapter&mdash;or, better, a romantic footnote
+in the history of the world.&nbsp; What was left of all this bygone
+dust and heroism?&nbsp; I was told that Protestantism still survived
+in this head seat of Protestant resistance; so much the priest himself
+had told me in the monastery parlour.&nbsp; But I had yet to learn if
+it were a bare survival, or a lively and generous tradition.&nbsp; Again,
+if in the northern Cevennes the people are narrow in religious judgments,
+and more filled with zeal than charity, what was I to look for in this
+land of persecution and reprisal&mdash;in a land where the tyranny of
+the Church produced the Camisard rebellion, and the terror of the Camisards
+threw the Catholic peasantry into legalised revolt upon the other side,
+so that Camisard and Florentin skulked for each other&rsquo;s lives
+among the mountains?</p>
+<p>Just on the brow of the hill, where I paused to look before me, the
+series of stone pillars came abruptly to an end; and only a little below,
+a sort of track appeared and began to go down a break-neck slope, turning
+like a corkscrew as it went.&nbsp; It led into a valley between falling
+hills, stubbly with rocks like a reaped field of corn, and floored farther
+down with green meadows.&nbsp; I followed the track with precipitation;
+the steepness of the slope, the continual agile turning of the line
+of the descent, and the old unwearied hope of finding something new
+in a new country, all conspired to lend me wings.&nbsp; Yet a little
+lower and a stream began, collecting itself together out of many fountains,
+and soon making a glad noise among the hills.&nbsp; Sometimes it would
+cross the track in a bit of waterfall, with a pool, in which Modestine
+refreshed her feet.</p>
+<p>The whole descent is like a dream to me, so rapidly was it accomplished.&nbsp;
+I had scarcely left the summit ere the valley had closed round my path,
+and the sun beat upon me, walking in a stagnant lowland atmosphere.&nbsp;
+The track became a road, and went up and down in easy undulations.&nbsp;
+I passed cabin after cabin, but all seemed deserted; and I saw not a
+human creature, nor heard any sound except that of the stream.&nbsp;
+I was, however, in a different country from the day before.&nbsp; The
+stony skeleton of the world was here vigorously displayed to sun and
+air.&nbsp; The slopes were steep and changeful.&nbsp; Oak-trees clung
+along the hills, well grown, wealthy in leaf, and touched by the autumn
+with strong and luminous colours.&nbsp; Here and there another stream
+would fall in from the right or the left, down a gorge of snow-white
+and tumultuary boulders.&nbsp; The river in the bottom (for it was rapidly
+growing a river, collecting on all hands as it trotted on its way) here
+foamed a while in desperate rapids, and there lay in pools of the most
+enchanting sea-green shot with watery browns.&nbsp; As far as I have
+gone, I have never seen a river of so changeful and delicate a hue;
+crystal was not more clear, the meadows were not by half so green; and
+at every pool I saw I felt a thrill of longing to be out of these hot,
+dusty, and material garments, and bathe my naked body in the mountain
+air and water.&nbsp; All the time as I went on I never forgot it was
+the Sabbath; the stillness was a perpetual reminder; and I heard in
+spirit the church-bells clamouring all over Europe, and the psalms of
+a thousand churches.</p>
+<p>At length a human sound struck upon my ear&mdash;a cry strangely
+modulated between pathos and derision; and looking across the valley,
+I saw a little urchin sitting in a meadow, with his hands about his
+knees, and dwarfed to almost comical smallness by the distance.&nbsp;
+But the rogue had picked me out as I went down the road, from oak wood
+on to oak wood, driving Modestine; and he made me the compliments of
+the new country in this tremulous high-pitched salutation.&nbsp; And
+as all noises are lovely and natural at a sufficient distance, this
+also, coming through so much clean hill air and crossing all the green
+valley, sounded pleasant to my ear, and seemed a thing rustic, like
+the oaks or the river.</p>
+<p>A little after, the stream that I was following fell into the Tarn
+at Pont de Montvert of bloody memory.</p>
+<h3>PONT DE MONTVERT</h3>
+<p>One of the first things I encountered in Pont de Montvert was, if
+I remember rightly, the Protestant temple; but this was but the type
+of other novelties.&nbsp; A subtle atmosphere distinguishes a town in
+England from a town in France, or even in Scotland.&nbsp; At Carlisle
+you can see you are in the one country; at Dumfries, thirty miles away,
+you are as sure that you are in the other.&nbsp; I should find it difficult
+to tell in what particulars Pont de Montvert differed from Monastier
+or Langogne, or even Bleymard; but the difference existed, and spoke
+eloquently to the eyes.&nbsp; The place, with its houses, its lanes,
+its glaring river-bed, wore an indescribable air of the South.</p>
+<p>All was Sunday bustle in the streets and in the public-house, as
+all had been Sabbath peace among the mountains.&nbsp; There must have
+been near a score of us at dinner by eleven before noon; and after I
+had eaten and drunken, and sat writing up my journal, I suppose as many
+more came dropping in one after another, or by twos and threes.&nbsp;
+In crossing the Loz&egrave;re I had not only come among new natural
+features, but moved into the territory of a different race.&nbsp; These
+people, as they hurriedly despatched their viands in an intricate sword-play
+of knives, questioned and answered me with a degree of intelligence
+which excelled all that I had met, except among the railway folk at
+Chasserad&egrave;s.&nbsp; They had open telling faces, and were lively
+both in speech and manner.&nbsp; They not only entered thoroughly into
+the spirit of my little trip, but more than one declared, if he were
+rich enough, he would like to set forth on such another.</p>
+<p>Even physically there was a pleasant change.&nbsp; I had not seen
+a pretty woman since I left Monastier, and there but one.&nbsp; Now
+of the three who sat down with me to dinner, one was certainly not beautiful&mdash;a
+poor timid thing of forty, quite troubled at this roaring <i>table d&rsquo;h&ocirc;te</i>,
+whom I squired and helped to wine, and pledged and tried generally to
+encourage, with quite a contrary effect; but the other two, both married,
+were both more handsome than the average of women.&nbsp; And Clarisse?&nbsp;
+What shall I say of Clarisse?&nbsp; She waited the table with a heavy
+placable nonchalance, like a performing cow; her great grey eyes were
+steeped in amorous languor; her features, although fleshy, were of an
+original and accurate design; her mouth had a curl; her nostril spoke
+of dainty pride; her cheek fell into strange and interesting lines.&nbsp;
+It was a face capable of strong emotion, and, with training, it offered
+the promise of delicate sentiment.&nbsp; It seemed pitiful to see so
+good a model left to country admirers and a country way of thought.&nbsp;
+Beauty should at least have touched society; then, in a moment, it throws
+off a weight that lay upon it, it becomes conscious of itself, it puts
+on an elegance, learns a gait and a carriage of the head, and, in a
+moment, <i>patet dea</i>.&nbsp; Before I left I assured Clarisse of
+my hearty admiration.&nbsp; She took it like milk, without embarrassment
+or wonder, merely looking at me steadily with her great eyes; and I
+own the result upon myself was some confusion.&nbsp; If Clarisse could
+read English, I should not dare to add that her figure was unworthy
+of her face.&nbsp; Hers was a case for stays; but that may perhaps grow
+better as she gets up in years.</p>
+<p>Pont de Montvert, or Greenhill Bridge, as we might say at home, is
+a place memorable in the story of the Camisards.&nbsp; It was here that
+the war broke out; here that those southern Covenanters slew their Archbishop
+Sharp.&nbsp; The persecution on the one hand, the febrile enthusiasm
+on the other, are almost equally difficult to understand in these quiet
+modern days, and with our easy modern beliefs and disbeliefs.&nbsp;
+The Protestants were one and all beside their right minds with zeal
+and sorrow.&nbsp; They were all prophets and prophetesses.&nbsp; Children
+at the breast would exhort their parents to good works.&nbsp; &lsquo;A
+child of fifteen months at Quissac spoke from its mother&rsquo;s arms,
+agitated and sobbing, distinctly and with a loud voice.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+Marshal Villars has seen a town where all the women &lsquo;seemed possessed
+by the devil,&rsquo; and had trembling fits, and uttered prophecies
+publicly upon the streets.&nbsp; A prophetess of Vivarais was hanged
+at Montpellier because blood flowed from her eyes and nose, and she
+declared that she was weeping tears of blood for the misfortunes of
+the Protestants.&nbsp; And it was not only women and children.&nbsp;
+Stalwart dangerous fellows, used to swing the sickle or to wield the
+forest axe, were likewise shaken with strange paroxysms, and spoke oracles
+with sobs and streaming tears.&nbsp; A persecution unsurpassed in violence
+had lasted near a score of years, and this was the result upon the persecuted;
+hanging, burning, breaking on the wheel, had been in vain; the dragoons
+had left their hoof-marks over all the countryside; there were men rowing
+in the galleys, and women pining in the prisons of the Church; and not
+a thought was changed in the heart of any upright Protestant.</p>
+<p>Now the head and forefront of the persecution&mdash;after Lamoignon
+de B&acirc;vile&mdash;Fran&ccedil;ois de Langlade du Chayla (pronounce
+Ch&eacute;&iuml;la), Archpriest of the Cevennes and Inspector of Missions
+in the same country, had a house in which he sometimes dwelt in the
+town of Pont de Montvert.&nbsp; He was a conscientious person, who seems
+to have been intended by nature for a pirate, and now fifty-five, an
+age by which a man has learned all the moderation of which he is capable.&nbsp;
+A missionary in his youth in China, he there suffered martyrdom, was
+left for dead, and only succoured and brought back to life by the charity
+of a pariah.&nbsp; We must suppose the pariah devoid of second-sight,
+and not purposely malicious in this act.&nbsp; Such an experience, it
+might be thought, would have cured a man of the desire to persecute;
+but the human spirit is a thing strangely put together; and, having
+been a Christian martyr, Du Chayla became a Christian persecutor.&nbsp;
+The Work of the Propagation of the Faith went roundly forward in his
+hands.&nbsp; His house in Pont de Montvert served him as a prison.&nbsp;
+There he closed the hands of his prisoners upon live coal, and plucked
+out the hairs of their beards, to convince them that they were deceived
+in their opinions.&nbsp; And yet had not he himself tried and proved
+the inefficacy of these carnal arguments among the Buddhists in China?</p>
+<p>Not only was life made intolerable in Languedoc, but flight was rigidly
+forbidden.&nbsp; One Massip, a muleteer, and well acquainted with the
+mountain-paths, had already guided several troops of fugitives in safety
+to Geneva; and on him, with another convoy, consisting mostly of women
+dressed as men, Du Chayla, in an evil hour for himself, laid his hands.&nbsp;
+The Sunday following, there was a conventicle of Protestants in the
+woods of Altefage upon Mount Boug&egrave;s; where there stood up one
+S&eacute;guier&mdash;Spirit S&eacute;guier, as his companions called
+him&mdash;a wool-carder, tall, black-faced, and toothless, but a man
+full of prophecy.&nbsp; He declared, in the name of God, that the time
+for submission had gone by, and they must betake themselves to arms
+for the deliverance of their brethren and the destruction of the priests.</p>
+<p>The next night, 24th July 1702, a sound disturbed the Inspector of
+Missions as he sat in his prison-house at Pont de Montvert: the voices
+of many men upraised in psalmody drew nearer and nearer through the
+town.&nbsp; It was ten at night; he had his court about him, priests,
+soldiers, and servants, to the number of twelve or fifteen; and now
+dreading the insolence of a conventicle below his very windows, he ordered
+forth his soldiers to report.&nbsp; But the psalm-singers were already
+at his door, fifty strong, led by the inspired S&eacute;guier, and breathing
+death.&nbsp; To their summons, the archpriest made answer like a stout
+old persecutor, and bade his garrison fire upon the mob.&nbsp; One Camisard
+(for, according to some, it was in this night&rsquo;s work that they
+came by the name) fell at this discharge: his comrades burst in the
+door with hatchets and a beam of wood, overran the lower story of the
+house, set free the prisoners, and finding one of them in the <i>vine</i>,
+a sort of Scavenger&rsquo;s Daughter of the place and period, redoubled
+in fury against Du Chayla, and sought by repeated assaults to carry
+the upper floors.&nbsp; But he, on his side, had given absolution to
+his men, and they bravely held the staircase.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Children of God,&rsquo; cried the prophet, &lsquo;hold your
+hands.&nbsp; Let us burn the house, with the priest and the satellites
+of Baal.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The fire caught readily.&nbsp; Out of an upper window Du Chayla and
+his men lowered themselves into the garden by means of knotted sheets;
+some escaped across the river under the bullets of the insurgents; but
+the archpriest himself fell, broke his thigh, and could only crawl into
+the hedge.&nbsp; What were his reflections as this second martyrdom
+drew near?&nbsp; A poor, brave, besotted, hateful man, who had done
+his duty resolutely according to his light both in the Cevennes and
+China.&nbsp; He found at least one telling word to say in his defence;
+for when the roof fell in and the upbursting flames discovered his retreat,
+and they came and dragged him to the public place of the town, raging
+and calling him damned&mdash;&lsquo;If I be damned,&rsquo; said he,
+&lsquo;why should you also damn yourselves?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Here was a good reason for the last; but in the course of his inspectorship
+he had given many stronger which all told in a contrary direction; and
+these he was now to hear.&nbsp; One by one, S&eacute;guier first, the
+Camisards drew near and stabbed him.&nbsp; &lsquo;This,&rsquo; they
+said, &lsquo;is for my father broken on the wheel.&nbsp; This for my
+brother in the galleys.&nbsp; That for my mother or my sister imprisoned
+in your cursed convents.&rsquo;&nbsp; Each gave his blow and his reason;
+and then all kneeled and sang psalms around the body till the dawn.&nbsp;
+With the dawn, still singing, they defiled away towards Frug&egrave;res,
+farther up the Tarn, to pursue the work of vengeance, leaving Du Chayla&rsquo;s
+prison-house in ruins, and his body pierced with two-and-fifty wounds
+upon the public place.</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Tis a wild night&rsquo;s work, with its accompaniment of psalms;
+and it seems as if a psalm must always have a sound of threatening in
+that town upon the Tarn.&nbsp; But the story does not end, even so far
+as concerns Pont de Montvert, with the departure of the Camisards.&nbsp;
+The career of S&eacute;guier was brief and bloody.&nbsp; Two more priests
+and a whole family at Ladev&egrave;ze, from the father to the servants,
+fell by his hand or by his orders; and yet he was but a day or two at
+large, and restrained all the time by the presence of the soldiery.&nbsp;
+Taken at length by a famous soldier of fortune, Captain Poul, he appeared
+unmoved before his judges.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Your name?&rsquo; they asked.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Pierre S&eacute;guier.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why are you called Spirit?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Because the Spirit of the Lord is with me.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Your domicile?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Lately in the desert, and soon in heaven.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Have you no remorse for your crimes?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;I have committed none.&nbsp; <i>My soul is like a garden full
+of shelter and of fountains.&rsquo;</i></p>
+<p>At Pont de Montvert, on the 12th of August, he had his right hand
+stricken from his body, and was burned alive.&nbsp; And his soul was
+like a garden?&nbsp; So perhaps was the soul of Du Chayla, the Christian
+martyr.&nbsp; And perhaps if you could read in my soul, or I could read
+in yours, our own composure might seem little less surprising.</p>
+<p>Du Chayla&rsquo;s house still stands, with a new roof, beside one
+of the bridges of the town; and if you are curious you may see the terrace-garden
+into which he dropped.</p>
+<h3>IN THE VALLEY OF THE TARN</h3>
+<p>A new road leads from Pont de Montvert to Florac by the valley of
+the Tarn; a smooth sandy ledge, it runs about half-way between the summit
+of the cliffs and the river in the bottom of the valley; and I went
+in and out, as I followed it, from bays of shadow into promontories
+of afternoon sun.&nbsp; This was a pass like that of Killiecrankie;
+a deep turning gully in the hills, with the Tarn making a wonderful
+hoarse uproar far below, and craggy summits standing in the sunshine
+high above.&nbsp; A thin fringe of ash-trees ran about the hill-tops,
+like ivy on a ruin; but on the lower slopes, and far up every glen,
+the Spanish chestnut-trees stood each four-square to heaven under its
+tented foliage.&nbsp; Some were planted, each on its own terrace no
+larger than a bed; some, trusting in their roots, found strength to
+grow and prosper and be straight and large upon the rapid slopes of
+the valley; others, where there was a margin to the river, stood marshalled
+in a line and mighty like cedars of Lebanon.&nbsp; Yet even where they
+grew most thickly they were not to be thought of as a wood, but as a
+herd of stalwart individuals; and the dome of each tree stood forth
+separate and large, and as it were a little hill, from among the domes
+of its companions.&nbsp; They gave forth a faint sweet perfume which
+pervaded the air of the afternoon; autumn had put tints of gold and
+tarnish in the green; and the sun so shone through and kindled the broad
+foliage, that each chestnut was relieved against another, not in shadow,
+but in light.&nbsp; A humble sketcher here laid down his pencil in despair.</p>
+<p>I wish I could convey a notion of the growth of these noble trees;
+of how they strike out boughs like the oak, and trail sprays of drooping
+foliage like the willow; of how they stand on upright fluted columns
+like the pillars of a church; or like the olive, from the most shattered
+bole can put out smooth and youthful shoots, and begin a new life upon
+the ruins of the old.&nbsp; Thus they partake of the nature of many
+different trees; and even their prickly top-knots, seen near at hand
+against the sky, have a certain palm-like air that impresses the imagination.&nbsp;
+But their individuality, although compounded of so many elements, is
+but the richer and the more original.&nbsp; And to look down upon a
+level filled with these knolls of foliage, or to see a clan of old unconquerable
+chestnuts cluster &lsquo;like herded elephants&rsquo; upon the spur
+of a mountain, is to rise to higher thoughts of the powers that are
+in Nature.</p>
+<p>Between Modestine&rsquo;s laggard humour and the beauty of the scene,
+we made little progress all that afternoon; and at last finding the
+sun, although still far from setting, was already beginning to desert
+the narrow valley of the Tarn, I began to cast about for a place to
+camp in.&nbsp; This was not easy to find; the terraces were too narrow,
+and the ground, where it was unterraced, was usually too steep for a
+man to lie upon.&nbsp; I should have slipped all night, and awakened
+towards morning with my feet or my head in the river.</p>
+<p>After perhaps a mile, I saw, some sixty feet above the road, a little
+plateau large enough to hold my sack, and securely parapeted by the
+trunk of an aged and enormous chestnut.&nbsp; Thither, with infinite
+trouble, I goaded and kicked the reluctant Modestine, and there I hastened
+to unload her.&nbsp; There was only room for myself upon the plateau,
+and I had to go nearly as high again before I found so much as standing-room
+for the ass.&nbsp; It was on a heap of rolling stones, on an artificial
+terrace, certainly not five feet square in all.&nbsp; Here I tied her
+to a chestnut, and having given her corn and bread and made a pile of
+chestnut-leaves, of which I found her greedy, I descended once more
+to my own encampment.</p>
+<p>The position was unpleasantly exposed.&nbsp; One or two carts went
+by upon the road; and as long as daylight lasted I concealed myself,
+for all the world like a hunted Camisard, behind my fortification of
+vast chestnut trunk; for I was passionately afraid of discovery and
+the visit of jocular persons in the night.&nbsp; Moreover, I saw that
+I must be early awake; for these chestnut gardens had been the scene
+of industry no further gone than on the day before.&nbsp; The slope
+was strewn with lopped branches, and here and there a great package
+of leaves was propped against a trunk; for even the leaves are serviceable,
+and the peasants use them in winter by way of fodder for their animals.&nbsp;
+I picked a meal in fear and trembling, half lying down to hide myself
+from the road; and I daresay I was as much concerned as if I had been
+a scout from Joani&rsquo;s band above upon the Loz&egrave;re, or from
+Salomon&rsquo;s across the Tarn, in the old times of psalm-singing and
+blood.&nbsp; Or, indeed, perhaps more; for the Camisards had a remarkable
+confidence in God; and a tale comes back into my memory of how the Count
+of G&eacute;vaudan, riding with a party of dragoons and a notary at
+his saddlebow to enforce the oath of fidelity in all the country hamlets,
+entered a valley in the woods, and found Cavalier and his men at dinner,
+gaily seated on the grass, and their hats crowned with box-tree garlands,
+while fifteen women washed their linen in the stream.&nbsp; Such was
+a field festival in 1703; at that date Antony Watteau would be painting
+similar subjects.</p>
+<p>This was a very different camp from that of the night before in the
+cool and silent pine-woods.&nbsp; It was warm and even stifling in the
+valley.&nbsp; The shrill song of frogs, like the tremolo note of a whistle
+with a pea in it, rang up from the river-side before the sun was down.&nbsp;
+In the growing dusk, faint rustlings began to run to and fro among the
+fallen leaves; from time to time a faint chirping or cheeping noise
+would fall upon my ear; and from time to time I thought I could see
+the movement of something swift and indistinct between the chestnuts.&nbsp;
+A profusion of large ants swarmed upon the ground; bats whisked by,
+and mosquitoes droned overhead.&nbsp; The long boughs with their bunches
+of leaves hung against the sky like garlands; and those immediately
+above and around me had somewhat the air of a trellis which should have
+been wrecked and half overthrown in a gale of wind.</p>
+<p>Sleep for a long time fled my eyelids; and just as I was beginning
+to feel quiet stealing over my limbs, and settling densely on my mind,
+a noise at my head startled me broad awake again, and, I will frankly
+confess it, brought my heart into my mouth.</p>
+<p>It was such a noise as a person would make scratching loudly with
+a finger-nail; it came from under the knapsack which served me for a
+pillow, and it was thrice repeated before I had time to sit up and turn
+about.&nbsp; Nothing was to be seen, nothing more was to be heard, but
+a few of these mysterious rustlings far and near, and the ceaseless
+accompaniment of the river and the frogs.&nbsp; I learned next day that
+the chestnut gardens are infested by rats; rustling, chirping, and scraping
+were probably all due to these; but the puzzle, for the moment, was
+insoluble, and I had to compose myself for sleep, as best I could, in
+wondering uncertainty about my neighbours.</p>
+<p>I was wakened in the grey of the morning (Monday, 30th September)
+by the sound of foot-steps not far off upon the stones, and opening
+my eyes, I beheld a peasant going by among the chestnuts by a footpath
+that I had not hitherto observed.&nbsp; He turned his head neither to
+the right nor to the left, and disappeared in a few strides among the
+foliage.&nbsp; Here was an escape!&nbsp; But it was plainly more than
+time to be moving.&nbsp; The peasantry were abroad; scarce less terrible
+to me in my nondescript position than the soldiers of Captain Poul to
+an undaunted Camisard.&nbsp; I fed Modestine with what haste I could;
+but as I was returning to my sack, I saw a man and a boy come down the
+hillside in a direction crossing mine.&nbsp; They unintelligibly hailed
+me, and I replied with inarticulate but cheerful sounds, and hurried
+forward to get into my gaiters.</p>
+<p>The pair, who seemed to be father and son, came slowly up to the
+plateau, and stood close beside me for some time in silence.&nbsp; The
+bed was open, and I saw with regret my revolver lying patently disclosed
+on the blue wool.&nbsp; At last, after they had looked me all over,
+and the silence had grown laughably embarrassing, the man demanded in
+what seemed unfriendly tones:</p>
+<p>&lsquo;You have slept here?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Yes,&rsquo; said I.&nbsp; &lsquo;As you see.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Why?&rsquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My faith,&rsquo; I answered lightly, &lsquo;I was tired.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He next inquired where I was going and what I had had for dinner;
+and then, without the least transition, &lsquo;<i>C&rsquo;est bien</i>,&rsquo;
+he added, &lsquo;come along.&rsquo;&nbsp; And he and his son, without
+another word, turned off to the next chestnut-tree but one, which they
+set to pruning.&nbsp; The thing had passed of more simply than I hoped.&nbsp;
+He was a grave, respectable man; and his unfriendly voice did not imply
+that he thought he was speaking to a criminal, but merely to an inferior.</p>
+<p>I was soon on the road, nibbling a cake of chocolate and seriously
+occupied with a case of conscience.&nbsp; Was I to pay for my night&rsquo;s
+lodging?&nbsp; I had slept ill, the bed was full of fleas in the shape
+of ants, there was no water in the room, the very dawn had neglected
+to call me in the morning.&nbsp; I might have missed a train, had there
+been any in the neighbourhood to catch.&nbsp; Clearly, I was dissatisfied
+with my entertainment; and I decided I should not pay unless I met a
+beggar.</p>
+<p>The valley looked even lovelier by morning; and soon the road descended
+to the level of the river.&nbsp; Here, in a place where many straight
+and prosperous chestnuts stood together, making an aisle upon a swarded
+terrace, I made my morning toilette in the water of the Tarn.&nbsp;
+It was marvellously clear, thrillingly cool; the soap-suds disappeared
+as if by magic in the swift current, and the white boulders gave one
+a model for cleanliness.&nbsp; To wash in one of God&rsquo;s rivers
+in the open air seems to me a sort of cheerful solemnity or semi-pagan
+act of worship.&nbsp; To dabble among dishes in a bedroom may perhaps
+make clean the body; but the imagination takes no share in such a cleansing.&nbsp;
+I went on with a light and peaceful heart, and sang psalms to the spiritual
+ear as I advanced.</p>
+<p>Suddenly up came an old woman, who point-blank demanded alms.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Good,&rsquo; thought I; &lsquo;here comes the waiter with
+the bill.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>And I paid for my night&rsquo;s lodging on the spot.&nbsp; Take it
+how you please, but this was the first and the last beggar that I met
+with during all my tour.</p>
+<p>A step or two farther I was overtaken by an old man in a brown nightcap,
+clear-eyed, weather-beaten, with a faint excited smile.&nbsp; A little
+girl followed him, driving two sheep and a goat; but she kept in our
+wake, while the old man walked beside me and talked about the morning
+and the valley.&nbsp; It was not much past six; and for healthy people
+who have slept enough, that is an hour of expansion and of open and
+trustful talk.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Connaissez-vous le Seigneur</i>?&rsquo; he said at length.</p>
+<p>I asked him what Seigneur he meant; but he only repeated the question
+with more emphasis and a look in his eyes denoting hope and interest.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Ah,&rsquo; said I, pointing upwards, &lsquo;I understand you
+now.&nbsp; Yes, I know Him; He is the best of acquaintances.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The old man said he was delighted.&nbsp; &lsquo;Hold,&rsquo; he added,
+striking his bosom; &lsquo;it makes me happy here.&rsquo;&nbsp; There
+were a few who knew the Lord in these valleys, he went on to tell me;
+not many, but a few.&nbsp; &lsquo;Many are called,&rsquo; he quoted,
+&lsquo;and few chosen.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;My father,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;it is not easy to say who
+know the Lord; and it is none of our business.&nbsp; Protestants and
+Catholics, and even those who worship stones, may know Him and be known
+by Him; for He has made all.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I did not know I was so good a preacher.</p>
+<p>The old man assured me he thought as I did, and repeated his expressions
+of pleasure at meeting me.&nbsp; &lsquo;We are so few,&rsquo; he said.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;They call us Moravians here; but down in the Department of Gard,
+where there are also a good number, they are called Derbists, after
+an English pastor.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I began to understand that I was figuring, in questionable taste,
+as a member of some sect to me unknown; but I was more pleased with
+the pleasure of my companion than embarrassed by my own equivocal position.&nbsp;
+Indeed, I can see no dishonesty in not avowing a difference; and especially
+in these high matters, where we have all a sufficient assurance that,
+whoever may be in the wrong, we ourselves are not completely in the
+right.&nbsp; The truth is much talked about; but this old man in a brown
+nightcap showed himself so simple, sweet, and friendly, that I am not
+unwilling to profess myself his convert.&nbsp; He was, as a matter of
+fact, a Plymouth Brother.&nbsp; Of what that involves in the way of
+doctrine I have no idea nor the time to inform myself; but I know right
+well that we are all embarked upon a troublesome world, the children
+of one Father, striving in many essential points to do and to become
+the same.&nbsp; And although it was somewhat in a mistake that he shook
+hands with me so often and showed himself so ready to receive my words,
+that was a mistake of the truth-finding sort.&nbsp; For charity begins
+blindfold; and only through a series of similar misapprehensions rises
+at length into a settled principle of love and patience, and a firm
+belief in all our fellow-men.&nbsp; If I deceived this good old man,
+in the like manner I would willingly go on to deceive others.&nbsp;
+And if ever at length, out of our separate and sad ways, we should all
+come together into one common house, I have a hope, to which I cling
+dearly, that my mountain Plymouth Brother will hasten to shake hands
+with me again.</p>
+<p>Thus, talking like Christian and Faithful by the way, he and I came
+down upon a hamlet by the Tarn.&nbsp; It was but a humble place, called
+La Vern&egrave;de, with less than a dozen houses, and a Protestant chapel
+on a knoll.&nbsp; Here he dwelt; and here, at the inn, I ordered my
+breakfast.&nbsp; The inn was kept by an agreeable young man, a stone-breaker
+on the road, and his sister, a pretty and engaging girl.&nbsp; The village
+schoolmaster dropped in to speak with the stranger.&nbsp; And these
+were all Protestants&mdash;a fact which pleased me more than I should
+have expected; and, what pleased me still more, they seemed all upright
+and simple people.&nbsp; The Plymouth Brother hung round me with a sort
+of yearning interest, and returned at least thrice to make sure I was
+enjoying my meal.&nbsp; His behaviour touched me deeply at the time,
+and even now moves me in recollection.&nbsp; He feared to intrude, but
+he would not willingly forego one moment of my society; and he seemed
+never weary of shaking me by the hand.</p>
+<p>When all the rest had drifted off to their day&rsquo;s work, I sat
+for near half an hour with the young mistress of the house, who talked
+pleasantly over her seam of the chestnut harvest, and the beauties of
+the Tarn, and old family affections, broken up when young folk go from
+home, yet still subsisting.&nbsp; Hers, I am sure, was a sweet nature,
+with a country plainness and much delicacy underneath; and he who takes
+her to his heart will doubtless be a fortunate young man.</p>
+<p>The valley below La Vern&egrave;de pleased me more and more as I
+went forward.&nbsp; Now the hills approached from either hand, naked
+and crumbling, and walled in the river between cliffs; and now the valley
+widened and became green.&nbsp; The road led me past the old castle
+of Miral on a steep; past a battlemented monastery, long since broken
+up and turned into a church and parsonage; and past a cluster of black
+roofs, the village of Cocur&egrave;s, sitting among vineyards, and meadows,
+and orchards thick with red apples, and where, along the highway, they
+were knocking down walnuts from the roadside trees, and gathering them
+in sacks and baskets.&nbsp; The hills, however much the vale might open,
+were still tall and bare, with cliffy battlements and here and there
+a pointed summit; and the Tarn still rattled through the stones with
+a mountain noise.&nbsp; I had been led, by bagmen of a picturesque turn
+of mind, to expect a horrific country after the heart of Byron; but
+to my Scottish eyes it seemed smiling and plentiful, as the weather
+still gave an impression of high summer to my Scottish body; although
+the chestnuts were already picked out by the autumn, and the poplars,
+that here began to mingle with them, had turned into pale gold against
+the approach of winter.</p>
+<p>There was something in this landscape, smiling although wild, that
+explained to me the spirit of the Southern Covenanters.&nbsp; Those
+who took to the hills for conscience&rsquo; sake in Scotland had all
+gloomy and bedevilled thoughts; for once that they received God&rsquo;s
+comfort they would be twice engaged with Satan; but the Camisards had
+only bright and supporting visions.&nbsp; They dealt much more in blood,
+both given and taken; yet I find no obsession of the Evil One in their
+records.&nbsp; With a light conscience, they pursued their life in these
+rough times and circumstances.&nbsp; The soul of S&eacute;guier, let
+us not forget, was like a garden.&nbsp; They knew they were on God&rsquo;s
+side, with a knowledge that has no parallel among the Scots; for the
+Scots, although they might be certain of the cause, could never rest
+confident of the person.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;We flew,&rsquo; says one old Camisard, &lsquo;when we heard
+the sound of psalm-singing, we flew as if with wings.&nbsp; We felt
+within us an animating ardour, a transporting desire.&nbsp; The feeling
+cannot be expressed in words.&nbsp; It is a thing that must have been
+experienced to be understood.&nbsp; However weary we might be, we thought
+no more of our weariness, and grew light so soon as the psalms fell
+upon our ears.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The valley of the Tarn and the people whom I met at La Vern&egrave;de
+not only explain to me this passage, but the twenty years of suffering
+which those, who were so stiff and so bloody when once they betook themselves
+to war, endured with the meekness of children and the constancy of saints
+and peasants.</p>
+<h3>FLORAC</h3>
+<p>On a branch of the Tarn stands Florac, the seat of a sub-prefecture,
+with an old castle, an alley of planes, many quaint street-corners,
+and a live fountain welling from the hill.&nbsp; It is notable, besides,
+for handsome women, and as one of the two capitals, Alais being the
+other, of the country of the Camisards.</p>
+<p>The landlord of the inn took me, after I had eaten, to an adjoining
+caf&eacute;, where I, or rather my journey, became the topic of the
+afternoon.&nbsp; Every one had some suggestion for my guidance; and
+the sub-prefectorial map was fetched from the sub-prefecture itself,
+and much thumbed among coffee-cups and glasses of liqueur.&nbsp; Most
+of these kind advisers were Protestant, though I observed that Protestant
+and Catholic intermingled in a very easy manner; and it surprised me
+to see what a lively memory still subsisted of the religious war.&nbsp;
+Among the hills of the south-west, by Mauchline, Cumnock, or Carsphairn,
+in isolated farms or in the manse, serious Presbyterian people still
+recall the days of the great persecution, and the graves of local martyrs
+are still piously regarded.&nbsp; But in towns and among the so-called
+better classes, I fear that these old doings have become an idle tale.&nbsp;
+If you met a mixed company in the King&rsquo;s Arms at Wigton, it is
+not likely that the talk would run on Covenanters.&nbsp; Nay, at Muirkirk
+of Glenluce, I found the beadle&rsquo;s wife had not so much as heard
+of Prophet Peden.&nbsp; But these C&eacute;venols were proud of their
+ancestors in quite another sense; the war was their chosen topic; its
+exploits were their own patent of nobility; and where a man or a race
+has had but one adventure, and that heroic, we must expect and pardon
+some prolixity of reference.&nbsp; They told me the country was still
+full of legends hitherto uncollected; I heard from them about Cavalier&rsquo;s
+descendants&mdash;not direct descendants, be it understood, but only
+cousins or nephews&mdash;who were still prosperous people in the scene
+of the boy-general&rsquo;s exploits; and one farmer had seen the bones
+of old combatants dug up into the air of an afternoon in the nineteenth
+century, in a field where the ancestors had fought, and the great-grandchildren
+were peaceably ditching.</p>
+<p>Later in the day one of the Protestant pastors was so good as to
+visit me: a young man, intelligent and polite, with whom I passed an
+hour or two in talk.&nbsp; Florac, he told me, is part Protestant, part
+Catholic; and the difference in religion is usually doubled by a difference
+in politics.&nbsp; You may judge of my surprise, coming as I did from
+such a babbling purgatorial Poland of a place as Monastier, when I learned
+that the population lived together on very quiet terms; and there was
+even an exchange of hospitalities between households thus doubly separated.&nbsp;
+Black Camisard and White Camisard, militiaman and Miquelet and dragoon,
+Protestant prophet and Catholic cadet of the White Cross, they had all
+been sabring and shooting, burning, pillaging, and murdering, their
+hearts hot with indignant passion; and here, after a hundred and seventy
+years, Protestant is still Protestant, Catholic still Catholic, in mutual
+toleration and mild amity of life.&nbsp; But the race of man, like that
+indomitable nature whence it sprang, has medicating virtues of its own;
+the years and seasons bring various harvests; the sun returns after
+the rain; and mankind outlives secular animosities, as a single man
+awakens from the passions of a day.&nbsp; We judge our ancestors from
+a more divine position; and the dust being a little laid with several
+centuries, we can see both sides adorned with human virtues and fighting
+with a show of right.</p>
+<p>I have never thought it easy to be just, and find it daily even harder
+than I thought.&nbsp; I own I met these Protestants with a delight and
+a sense of coming home.&nbsp; I was accustomed to speak their language,
+in another and deeper sense of the word than that which distinguishes
+between French and English; for the true Babel is a divergence upon
+morals.&nbsp; And hence I could hold more free communication with the
+Protestants, and judge them more justly, than the Catholics.&nbsp; Father
+Apollinaris may pair off with my mountain Plymouth Brother as two guileless
+and devout old men; yet I ask myself if I had as ready a feeling for
+the virtues of the Trappist; or, had I been a Catholic, if I should
+have felt so warmly to the dissenter of La Vern&egrave;de.&nbsp; With
+the first I was on terms of mere forbearance; but with the other, although
+only on a misunderstanding and by keeping on selected points, it was
+still possible to hold converse and exchange some honest thoughts.&nbsp;
+In this world of imperfection we gladly welcome even partial intimacies.&nbsp;
+And if we find but one to whom we can speak out of our heart freely,
+with whom we can walk in love and simplicity without dissimulation,
+we have no ground of quarrel with the world or God.</p>
+<h3>IN THE VALLEY OF THE MIMENTE</h3>
+<p>On Tuesday, 1st October, we left Florac late in the afternoon, a
+tired donkey and tired donkey-driver.&nbsp; A little way up the Tarnon,
+a covered bridge of wood introduced us into the valley of the Mimente.&nbsp;
+Steep rocky red mountains overhung the stream; great oaks and chestnuts
+grew upon the slopes or in stony terraces; here and there was a red
+field of millet or a few apple-trees studded with red apples; and the
+road passed hard by two black hamlets, one with an old castle atop to
+please the heart of the tourist.</p>
+<p>It was difficult here again to find a spot fit for my encampment.&nbsp;
+Even under the oaks and chestnuts the ground had not only a very rapid
+slope, but was heaped with loose stones; and where there was no timber
+the hills descended to the stream in a red precipice tufted with heather.&nbsp;
+The sun had left the highest peak in front of me, and the valley was
+full of the lowing sound of herdsmen&rsquo;s horns as they recalled
+the flocks into the stable, when I spied a bight of meadow some way
+below the roadway in an angle of the river.&nbsp; Thither I descended,
+and, tying Modestine provisionally to a tree, proceeded to investigate
+the neighbourhood.&nbsp; A grey pearly evening shadow filled the glen;
+objects at a little distance grew indistinct and melted bafflingly into
+each other; and the darkness was rising steadily like an exhalation.&nbsp;
+I approached a great oak which grew in the meadow, hard by the river&rsquo;s
+brink; when to my disgust the voices of children fell upon my ear, and
+I beheld a house round the angle on the other bank.&nbsp; I had half
+a mind to pack and be gone again, but the growing darkness moved me
+to remain.&nbsp; I had only to make no noise until the night was fairly
+come, and trust to the dawn to call me early in the morning.&nbsp; But
+it was hard to be annoyed by neighbours in such a great hotel.</p>
+<p>A hollow underneath the oak was my bed.&nbsp; Before I had fed Modestine
+and arranged my sack, three stars were already brightly shining, and
+the others were beginning dimly to appear.&nbsp; I slipped down to the
+river, which looked very black among its rocks, to fill my can; and
+dined with a good appetite in the dark, for I scrupled to light a lantern
+while so near a house.&nbsp; The moon, which I had seen a pallid crescent
+all afternoon, faintly illuminated the summit of the hills, but not
+a ray fell into the bottom of the glen where I was lying.&nbsp; The
+oak rose before me like a pillar of darkness; and overhead the heartsome
+stars were set in the face of the night.&nbsp; No one knows the stars
+who has not slept, as the French happily put it, <i>&agrave;</i> <i>la</i>
+<i>belle &eacute;toile</i>.&nbsp; He may know all their names and distances
+and magnitudes, and yet be ignorant of what alone concerns mankind,&mdash;their
+serene and gladsome influence on the mind.&nbsp; The greater part of
+poetry is about the stars; and very justly, for they are themselves
+the most classical of poets.&nbsp; These same far-away worlds, sprinkled
+like tapers or shaken together like a diamond dust upon the sky, had
+looked not otherwise to Roland or Cavalier, when, in the words of the
+latter, they had &lsquo;no other tent but the sky, and no other bed
+than my mother earth.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>All night a strong wind blew up the valley, and the acorns fell pattering
+over me from the oak.&nbsp; Yet, on this first night of October, the
+air was as mild as May, and I slept with the fur thrown back.</p>
+<p>I was much disturbed by the barking of a dog, an animal that I fear
+more than any wolf.&nbsp; A dog is vastly braver, and is besides supported
+by the sense of duty.&nbsp; If you kill a wolf, you meet with encouragement
+and praise; but if you kill a dog, the sacred rights of property and
+the domestic affections come clamouring round you for redress.&nbsp;
+At the end of a fagging day, the sharp cruel note of a dog&rsquo;s bark
+is in itself a keen annoyance; and to a tramp like myself, he represents
+the sedentary and respectable world in its most hostile form.&nbsp;
+There is something of the clergyman or the lawyer about this engaging
+animal; and if he were not amenable to stones, the boldest man would
+shrink from travelling afoot.&nbsp; I respect dogs much in the domestic
+circle; but on the highway, or sleeping afield, I both detest and fear
+them.</p>
+<p>I was wakened next morning (Wednesday, October 2nd) by the same dog&mdash;for
+I knew his bark&mdash;making a charge down the bank, and then, seeing
+me sit up, retreating again with great alacrity.&nbsp; The stars were
+not yet quite extinguished.&nbsp; The heaven was of that enchanting
+mild grey-blue of the early morn.&nbsp; A still clear light began to
+fall, and the trees on the hillside were outlined sharply against the
+sky.&nbsp; The wind had veered more to the north, and no longer reached
+me in the glen; but as I was going on with my preparations, it drove
+a white cloud very swiftly over the hill-top; and looking up, I was
+surprised to see the cloud dyed with gold.&nbsp; In these high regions
+of the air, the sun was already shining as at noon.&nbsp; If only the
+clouds travelled high enough, we should see the same thing all night
+long.&nbsp; For it is always daylight in the fields of space.</p>
+<p>As I began to go up the valley, a draught of wind came down it out
+of the seat of the sunrise, although the clouds continued to run overhead
+in an almost contrary direction.&nbsp; A few steps farther, and I saw
+a whole hillside gilded with the sun; and still a little beyond, between
+two peaks, a centre of dazzling brilliancy appeared floating in the
+sky, and I was once more face to face with the big bonfire that occupies
+the kernel of our system.</p>
+<p>I met but one human being that forenoon, a dark military-looking
+wayfarer, who carried a game-bag on a baldric; but he made a remark
+that seems worthy of record.&nbsp; For when I asked him if he were Protestant
+or Catholic&mdash;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Oh,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;I make no shame of my religion.&nbsp;
+I am a Catholic.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>He made no shame of it!&nbsp; The phrase is a piece of natural statistics;
+for it is the language of one in a minority.&nbsp; I thought with a
+smile of Bavile and his dragoons, and how you may ride rough-shod over
+a religion for a century, and leave it only the more lively for the
+friction.&nbsp; Ireland is still Catholic; the Cevennes still Protestant.&nbsp;
+It is not a basketful of law-papers, nor the hoofs and pistol-butts
+of a regiment of horse, that can change one tittle of a ploughman&rsquo;s
+thoughts.&nbsp; Outdoor rustic people have not many ideas, but such
+as they have are hardy plants, and thrive flourishingly in persecution.&nbsp;
+One who has grown a long while in the sweat of laborious noons, and
+under the stars at night, a frequenter of hills and forests, an old
+honest countryman, has, in the end, a sense of communion with the powers
+of the universe, and amicable relations towards his God.&nbsp; Like
+my mountain Plymouth Brother, he knows the Lord.&nbsp; His religion
+does not repose upon a choice of logic; it is the poetry of the man&rsquo;s
+experience, the philosophy of the history of his life.&nbsp; God, like
+a great power, like a great shining sun, has appeared to this simple
+fellow in the course of years, and become the ground and essence of
+his least reflections; and you may change creeds and dogmas by authority,
+or proclaim a new religion with the sound of trumpets, if you will;
+but here is a man who has his own thoughts, and will stubbornly adhere
+to them in good and evil.&nbsp; He is a Catholic, a Protestant, or a
+Plymouth Brother, in the same indefeasible sense that a man is not a
+woman, or a woman not a man.&nbsp; For he could not vary from his faith,
+unless he could eradicate all memory of the past, and, in a strict and
+not a conventional meaning, change his mind.</p>
+<h3>THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY</h3>
+<p>I was now drawing near to Cassagnas, a cluster of black roofs upon
+the hillside, in this wild valley, among chestnut gardens, and looked
+upon in the clear air by many rocky peaks.&nbsp; The road along the
+Mimente is yet new, nor have the mountaineers recovered their surprise
+when the first cart arrived at Cassagnas.&nbsp; But although it lay
+thus apart from the current of men&rsquo;s business, this hamlet had
+already made a figure in the history of France.&nbsp; Hard by, in caverns
+of the mountain, was one of the five arsenals of the Camisards; where
+they laid up clothes and corn and arms against necessity, forged bayonets
+and sabres, and made themselves gunpowder with willow charcoal and saltpetre
+boiled in kettles.&nbsp; To the same caves, amid this multifarious industry,
+the sick and wounded were brought up to heal; and there they were visited
+by the two surgeons, Chabrier and Tavan, and secretly nursed by women
+of the neighbourhood.</p>
+<p>Of the five legions into which the Camisards were divided, it was
+the oldest and the most obscure that had its magazines by Cassagnas.&nbsp;
+This was the band of Spirit S&eacute;guier; men who had joined their
+voices with his in the 68th Psalm as they marched down by night on the
+archpriest of the Cevennes.&nbsp; S&eacute;guier, promoted to heaven,
+was succeeded by Salomon Couderc, whom Cavalier treats in his memoirs
+as chaplain-general to the whole army of the Camisards.&nbsp; He was
+a prophet; a great reader of the heart, who admitted people to the sacrament
+or refused them, by &lsquo;intensively viewing every man&rsquo; between
+the eyes; and had the most of the Scriptures off by rote.&nbsp; And
+this was surely happy; since in a surprise in August 1703, he lost his
+mule, his portfolios, and his Bible.&nbsp; It is only strange that they
+were not surprised more often and more effectually; for this legion
+of Cassagnas was truly patriarchal in its theory of war, and camped
+without sentries, leaving that duty to the angels of the God for whom
+they fought.&nbsp; This is a token, not only of their faith, but of
+the trackless country where they harboured.&nbsp; M. de Caladon, taking
+a stroll one fine day, walked without warning into their midst, as he
+might have walked into &lsquo;a flock of sheep in a plain,&rsquo; and
+found some asleep and some awake and psalm-singing.&nbsp; A traitor
+had need of no recommendation to insinuate himself among their ranks,
+beyond &lsquo;his faculty of singing psalms&rsquo;; and even the prophet
+Salomon &lsquo;took him into a particular friendship.&rsquo;&nbsp; Thus,
+among their intricate hills, the rustic troop subsisted; and history
+can attribute few exploits to them but sacraments and ecstasies.</p>
+<p>People of this tough and simple stock will not, as I have just been
+saying, prove variable in religion; nor will they get nearer to apostasy
+than a mere external conformity like that of Naaman in the house of
+Rimmon.&nbsp; When Louis XVI., in the words of the edict, &lsquo;convinced
+by the uselessness of a century of persecutions, and rather from necessity
+than sympathy,&rsquo; granted at last a royal grace of toleration, Cassagnas
+was still Protestant; and to a man, it is so to this day.&nbsp; There
+is, indeed, one family that is not Protestant, but neither is it Catholic.&nbsp;
+It is that of a Catholic <i>cur&eacute;</i> in revolt, who has taken
+to his bosom a schoolmistress.&nbsp; And his conduct, it is worth noting,
+is disapproved by the Protestant villagers.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is a bad idea for a man,&rsquo; said one, &lsquo;to go
+back from his engagements.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The villagers whom I saw seemed intelligent after a countrified fashion,
+and were all plain and dignified in manner.&nbsp; As a Protestant myself,
+I was well looked upon, and my acquaintance with history gained me further
+respect.&nbsp; For we had something not unlike a religious controversy
+at table, a gendarme and a merchant with whom I dined being both strangers
+to the place, and Catholics.&nbsp; The young men of the house stood
+round and supported me; and the whole discussion was tolerantly conducted,
+and surprised a man brought up among the infinitesimal and contentious
+differences of Scotland.&nbsp; The merchant, indeed, grew a little warm,
+and was far less pleased than some others with my historical acquirements.&nbsp;
+But the gendarme was mighty easy over it all.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It&rsquo;s a bad idea for a man to change,&rsquo; said he;
+and the remark was generally applauded.</p>
+<p>That was not the opinion of the priest and soldier at Our Lady of
+the Snows.&nbsp; But this is a different race; and perhaps the same
+great-heartedness that upheld them to resist, now enables them to differ
+in a kind spirit.&nbsp; For courage respects courage; but where a faith
+has been trodden out, we may look for a mean and narrow population.&nbsp;
+The true work of Bruce and Wallace was the union of the nations; not
+that they should stand apart a while longer, skirmishing upon their
+borders; but that, when the time came, they might unite with self-respect.</p>
+<p>The merchant was much interested in my journey, and thought it dangerous
+to sleep afield.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;There are the wolves,&rsquo; said he; &lsquo;and then it is
+known you are an Englishman.&nbsp; The English have always long purses,
+and it might very well enter into some one&rsquo;s head to deal you
+an ill blow some night.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I told him I was not much afraid of such accidents; and at any rate
+judged it unwise to dwell upon alarms or consider small perils in the
+arrangement of life.&nbsp; Life itself, I submitted, was a far too risky
+business as a whole to make each additional particular of danger worth
+regard.&nbsp; &lsquo;Something,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;might burst in
+your inside any day of the week, and there would be an end of you, if
+you were locked into your room with three turns of the key.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Cependant</i>,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;<i>coucher dehors</i>!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;God,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;is everywhere.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;<i>Cependant, coucher dehors</i>!&rsquo; he repeated, and
+his voice was eloquent of terror.</p>
+<p>He was the only person, in all my voyage, who saw anything hardy
+in so simple a proceeding; although many considered it superfluous.&nbsp;
+Only one, on the other hand, professed much delight in the idea; and
+that was my Plymouth Brother, who cried out, when I told him I sometimes
+preferred sleeping under the stars to a close and noisy ale-house, &lsquo;Now
+I see that you know the Lord!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>The merchant asked me for one of my cards as I was leaving, for he
+said I should be something to talk of in the future, and desired me
+to make a note of his request and reason; a desire with which I have
+thus complied.</p>
+<p>A little after two I struck across the Mimente, and took a rugged
+path southward up a hillside covered with loose stones and tufts of
+heather.&nbsp; At the top, as is the habit of the country, the path
+disappeared; and I left my she-ass munching heather, and went forward
+alone to seek a road.</p>
+<p>I was now on the separation of two vast water-sheds; behind me all
+the streams were bound for the Garonne and the Western Ocean; before
+me was the basin of the Rhone.&nbsp; Hence, as from the Loz&egrave;re,
+you can see in clear weather the shining of the Gulf of Lyons; and perhaps
+from here the soldiers of Salomon may have watched for the topsails
+of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and the long-promised aid from England.&nbsp;
+You may take this ridge as lying in the heart of the country of the
+Camisards; four of the five legions camped all round it and almost within
+view&mdash;Salomon and Joani to the north, Castanet and Roland to the
+south; and when Julien had finished his famous work, the devastation
+of the High Cevennes, which lasted all through October and November
+1703, and during which four hundred and sixty villages and hamlets were,
+with fire and pickaxe, utterly subverted, a man standing on this eminence
+would have looked forth upon a silent, smokeless, and dispeopled land.&nbsp;
+Time and man&rsquo;s activity have now repaired these ruins; Cassagnas
+is once more roofed and sending up domestic smoke; and in the chestnut
+gardens, in low and leafy corners, many a prosperous farmer returns,
+when the day&rsquo;s work is done, to his children and bright hearth.&nbsp;
+And still it was perhaps the wildest view of all my journey.&nbsp; Peak
+upon peak, chain upon chain of hills ran surging southward, channelled
+and sculptured by the winter streams, feathered from head to foot with
+chestnuts, and here and there breaking out into a coronal of cliffs.&nbsp;
+The sun, which was still far from setting, sent a drift of misty gold
+across the hill-tops, but the valleys were already plunged in a profound
+and quiet shadow.</p>
+<p>A very old shepherd, hobbling on a pair of sticks, and wearing a
+black cap of liberty, as if in honour of his nearness to the grave,
+directed me to the road for St. Germain de Calberte.&nbsp; There was
+something solemn in the isolation of this infirm and ancient creature.&nbsp;
+Where he dwelt, how he got upon this high ridge, or how he proposed
+to get down again, were more than I could fancy.&nbsp; Not far off upon
+my right was the famous Plan de Font Morte, where Poul with his Armenian
+sabre slashed down the Camisards of S&eacute;guier.&nbsp; This, methought,
+might be some Rip van Winkle of the war, who had lost his comrades,
+fleeing before Poul, and wandered ever since upon the mountains.&nbsp;
+It might be news to him that Cavalier had surrendered, or Roland had
+fallen fighting with his back against an olive.&nbsp; And while I was
+thus working on my fancy, I heard him hailing in broken tones, and saw
+him waving me to come back with one of his two sticks.&nbsp; I had already
+got some way past him; but, leaving Modestine once more, retraced my
+steps.</p>
+<p>Alas, it was a very commonplace affair.&nbsp; The old gentleman had
+forgot to ask the pedlar what he sold, and wished to remedy this neglect.</p>
+<p>I told him sternly, &lsquo;Nothing.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Nothing?&rsquo; cried he.</p>
+<p>I repeated &lsquo;Nothing,&rsquo; and made off.</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s odd to think of, but perhaps I thus became as inexplicable
+to the old man as he had been to me.</p>
+<p>The road lay under chestnuts, and though I saw a hamlet or two below
+me in the vale, and many lone houses of the chestnut farmers, it was
+a very solitary march all afternoon; and the evening began early underneath
+the trees.&nbsp; But I heard the voice of a woman singing some sad,
+old, endless ballad not far off.&nbsp; It seemed to be about love and
+a <i>bel amoureux</i>, her handsome sweetheart; and I wished I could
+have taken up the strain and answered her, as I went on upon my invisible
+woodland way, weaving, like Pippa in the poem, my own thoughts with
+hers.&nbsp; What could I have told her?&nbsp; Little enough; and yet
+all the heart requires.&nbsp; How the world gives and takes away, and
+brings sweethearts near only to separate them again into distant and
+strange lands; but to love is the great amulet which makes the world
+a garden; and &lsquo;hope, which comes to all,&rsquo; outwears the accidents
+of life, and reaches with tremulous hand beyond the grave and death.&nbsp;
+Easy to say: yea, but also, by God&rsquo;s mercy, both easy and grateful
+to believe!</p>
+<p>We struck at last into a wide white high-road carpeted with noiseless
+dust.&nbsp; The night had come; the moon had been shining for a long
+while upon the opposite mountain; when on turning a corner my donkey
+and I issued ourselves into her light.&nbsp; I had emptied out my brandy
+at Florac, for I could bear the stuff no longer, and replaced it with
+some generous and scented Volnay; and now I drank to the moon&rsquo;s
+sacred majesty upon the road.&nbsp; It was but a couple of mouthfuls;
+yet I became thenceforth unconscious of my limbs, and my blood flowed
+with luxury.&nbsp; Even Modestine was inspired by this purified nocturnal
+sunshine, and bestirred her little hoofs as to a livelier measure.&nbsp;
+The road wound and descended swiftly among masses of chestnuts.&nbsp;
+Hot dust rose from our feet and flowed away.&nbsp; Our two shadows&mdash;mine
+deformed with the knapsack, hers comically bestridden by the pack&mdash;now
+lay before us clearly outlined on the road, and now, as we turned a
+corner, went off into the ghostly distance, and sailed along the mountain
+like clouds.&nbsp; From time to time a warm wind rustled down the valley,
+and set all the chestnuts dangling their bunches of foliage and fruit;
+the ear was filled with whispering music, and the shadows danced in
+tune.&nbsp; And next moment the breeze had gone by, and in all the valley
+nothing moved except our travelling feet.&nbsp; On the opposite slope,
+the monstrous ribs and gullies of the mountain were faintly designed
+in the moonshine; and high overhead, in some lone house, there burned
+one lighted window, one square spark of red in the huge field of sad
+nocturnal colouring.</p>
+<p>At a certain point, as I went downward, turning many acute angles,
+the moon disappeared behind the hill; and I pursued my way in great
+darkness, until another turning shot me without preparation into St.
+Germain de Calberte.&nbsp; The place was asleep and silent, and buried
+in opaque night.&nbsp; Only from a single open door, some lamplight
+escaped upon the road to show me that I was come among men&rsquo;s habitations.&nbsp;
+The two last gossips of the evening, still talking by a garden wall,
+directed me to the inn.&nbsp; The landlady was getting her chicks to
+bed; the fire was already out, and had, not without grumbling, to be
+rekindled; half an hour later, and I must have gone supperless to roost.</p>
+<h3>THE LAST DAY</h3>
+<p>When I awoke (Thursday, 2nd October), and, hearing a great flourishing
+of cocks and chuckling of contented hens, betook me to the window of
+the clean and comfortable room where I had slept the night, I looked
+forth on a sunshiny morning in a deep vale of chestnut gardens.&nbsp;
+It was still early, and the cockcrows, and the slanting lights, and
+the long shadows encouraged me to be out and look round me.</p>
+<p>St. Germain de Calberte is a great parish nine leagues round about.&nbsp;
+At the period of the wars, and immediately before the devastation, it
+was inhabited by two hundred and seventy-five families, of which only
+nine were Catholic; and it took the cur&eacute; seventeen September
+days to go from house to house on horseback for a census.&nbsp; But
+the place itself, although capital of a canton, is scarce larger than
+a hamlet.&nbsp; It lies terraced across a steep slope in the midst of
+mighty chestnuts.&nbsp; The Protestant chapel stands below upon a shoulder;
+in the midst of the town is the quaint old Catholic church.</p>
+<p>It was here that poor Du Chayla, the Christian martyr, kept his library
+and held a court of missionaries; here he had built his tomb, thinking
+to lie among a grateful population whom he had redeemed from error;
+and hither on the morrow of his death they brought the body, pierced
+with two-and-fifty wounds, to be interred.&nbsp; Clad in his priestly
+robes, he was laid out in state in the church.&nbsp; The <i>cur&eacute;</i>,
+taking his text from Second Samuel, twentieth chapter and twelfth verse,
+&lsquo;And Amasa wallowed in his blood in the highway,&rsquo; preached
+a rousing sermon, and exhorted his brethren to die each at his post,
+like their unhappy and illustrious superior.&nbsp; In the midst of this
+eloquence there came a breeze that Spirit S&eacute;guier was near at
+hand; and behold! all the assembly took to their horses&rsquo; heels,
+some east, some west, and the <i>cur&eacute;</i> himself as far as Alais.</p>
+<p>Strange was the position of this little Catholic metropolis, a thimbleful
+of Rome, in such a wild and contrary neighbourhood.&nbsp; On the one
+hand, the legion of Salomon overlooked it from Cassagnas; on the other,
+it was cut off from assistance by the legion of Roland at Mialet.&nbsp;
+The <i>cur&eacute;</i>, Louvrelenil, although he took a panic at the
+arch-priest&rsquo;s funeral, and so hurriedly decamped to Alais, stood
+well by his isolated pulpit, and thence uttered fulminations against
+the crimes of the Protestants.&nbsp; Salomon besieged the village for
+an hour and a half, but was beaten back.&nbsp; The militiamen, on guard
+before the <i>cur&eacute;&rsquo;s</i> door, could be heard, in the black
+hours, singing Protestant psalms and holding friendly talk with the
+insurgents.&nbsp; And in the morning, although not a shot had been fired,
+there would not be a round of powder in their flasks.&nbsp; Where was
+it gone?&nbsp; All handed over to the Camisards for a consideration.&nbsp;
+Untrusty guardians for an isolated priest!</p>
+<p>That these continual stirs were once busy in St. Germain de Calberte,
+the imagination with difficulty receives; all is now so quiet, the pulse
+of human life now beats so low and still in this hamlet of the mountains.&nbsp;
+Boys followed me a great way off, like a timid sort of lion-hunters;
+and people turned round to have a second look, or came out of their
+houses, as I went by.&nbsp; My passage was the first event, you would
+have fancied, since the Camisards.&nbsp; There was nothing rude or forward
+in this observation; it was but a pleased and wondering scrutiny, like
+that of oxen or the human infant; yet it wearied my spirits, and soon
+drove me from the street.</p>
+<p>I took refuge on the terraces, which are here greenly carpeted with
+sward, and tried to imitate with a pencil the inimitable attitudes of
+the chestnuts as they bear up their canopy of leaves.&nbsp; Ever and
+again a little wind went by, and the nuts dropped all around me, with
+a light and dull sound, upon the sward.&nbsp; The noise was as of a
+thin fall of great hailstones; but there went with it a cheerful human
+sentiment of an approaching harvest and farmers rejoicing in their gains.&nbsp;
+Looking up, I could see the brown nut peering through the husk, which
+was already gaping; and between the stems the eye embraced an amphitheatre
+of hill, sunlit and green with leaves.</p>
+<p>I have not often enjoyed a place more deeply.&nbsp; I moved in an
+atmosphere of pleasure, and felt light and quiet and content.&nbsp;
+But perhaps it was not the place alone that so disposed my spirit.&nbsp;
+Perhaps some one was thinking of me in another country; or perhaps some
+thought of my own had come and gone unnoticed, and yet done me good.&nbsp;
+For some thoughts, which sure would be the most beautiful, vanish before
+we can rightly scan their features; as though a god, travelling by our
+green highways, should but ope the door, give one smiling look into
+the house, and go again for ever.&nbsp; Was it Apollo, or Mercury, or
+Love with folded wings?&nbsp; Who shall say?&nbsp; But we go the lighter
+about our business, and feel peace and pleasure in our hearts.</p>
+<p>I dined with a pair of Catholics.&nbsp; They agreed in the condemnation
+of a young man, a Catholic, who had married a Protestant girl and gone
+over to the religion of his wife.&nbsp; A Protestant born they could
+understand and respect; indeed, they seemed to be of the mind of an
+old Catholic woman, who told me that same day there was no difference
+between the two sects, save that &lsquo;wrong was more wrong for the
+Catholic,&rsquo; who had more light and guidance; but this of a man&rsquo;s
+desertion filled them with contempt.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;It is a bad idea for a man to change,&rsquo; said one.</p>
+<p>It may have been accidental, but you see how this phrase pursued
+me; and for myself, I believe it is the current philosophy in these
+parts.&nbsp; I have some difficulty in imagining a better.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s
+not only a great flight of confidence for a man to change his creed
+and go out of his family for heaven&rsquo;s sake; but the odds are&mdash;nay,
+and the hope is&mdash;that, with all this great transition in the eyes
+of man, he has not changed himself a hairbreadth to the eyes of God.&nbsp;
+Honour to those who do so, for the wrench is sore.&nbsp; But it argues
+something narrow, whether of strength or weakness, whether of the prophet
+or the fool, in those who can take a sufficient interest in such infinitesimal
+and human operations, or who can quit a friendship for a doubtful process
+of the mind.&nbsp; And I think I should not leave my old creed for another,
+changing only words for other words; but by some brave reading, embrace
+it in spirit and truth, and find wrong as wrong for me as for the best
+of other communions.</p>
+<p>The phylloxera was in the neighbourhood; and instead of wine we drank
+at dinner a more economical juice of the grape&mdash;La Parisienne,
+they call it.&nbsp; It is made by putting the fruit whole into a cask
+with water; one by one the berries ferment and burst; what is drunk
+during the day is supplied at night in water: so, with ever another
+pitcher from the well, and ever another grape exploding and giving out
+its strength, one cask of Parisienne may last a family till spring.&nbsp;
+It is, as the reader will anticipate, a feeble beverage, but very pleasant
+to the taste.</p>
+<p>What with dinner and coffee, it was long past three before I left
+St. Germain de Calberte.&nbsp; I went down beside the Gardon of Mialet,
+a great glaring watercourse devoid of water, and through St. Etienne
+de Vall&eacute;e Fran&ccedil;aise, or Val Francesque, as they used to
+call it; and towards evening began to ascend the hill of St. Pierre.&nbsp;
+It was a long and steep ascent.&nbsp; Behind me an empty carriage returning
+to St. Jean du Gard kept hard upon my tracks, and near the summit overtook
+me.&nbsp; The driver, like the rest of the world, was sure I was a pedlar;
+but, unlike others, he was sure of what I had to sell.&nbsp; He had
+noticed the blue wool which hung out of my pack at either end; and from
+this he had decided, beyond my power to alter his decision, that I dealt
+in blue-wool collars, such as decorate the neck of the French draught-horse.</p>
+<p>I had hurried to the topmost powers of Modestine, for I dearly desired
+to see the view upon the other side before the day had faded.&nbsp;
+But it was night when I reached the summit; the moon was riding high
+and clear; and only a few grey streaks of twilight lingered in the west.&nbsp;
+A yawning valley, gulfed in blackness, lay like a hole in created nature
+at my feet; but the outline of the hills was sharp against the sky.&nbsp;
+There was Mount Aigoal, the stronghold of Castanet.&nbsp; And Castanet,
+not only as an active undertaking leader, deserves some mention among
+Camisards; for there is a spray of rose among his laurel; and he showed
+how, even in a public tragedy, love will have its way.&nbsp; In the
+high tide of war he married, in his mountain citadel, a young and pretty
+lass called Mariette.&nbsp; There were great rejoicings; and the bridegroom
+released five-and-twenty prisoners in honour of the glad event.&nbsp;
+Seven months afterwards, Mariette, the Princess of the Cevennes, as
+they called her in derision, fell into the hands of the authorities,
+where it was like to have gone hard with her.&nbsp; But Castanet was
+a man of execution, and loved his wife.&nbsp; He fell on Valleraugue,
+and got a lady there for a hostage; and for the first and last time
+in that war there was an exchange of prisoners.&nbsp; Their daughter,
+pledge of some starry night upon Mount Aigoal, has left descendants
+to this day.</p>
+<p>Modestine and I&mdash;it was our last meal together&mdash;had a snack
+upon the top of St. Pierre, I on a heap of stones, she standing by me
+in the moonlight and decorously eating bread out of my hand.&nbsp; The
+poor brute would eat more heartily in this manner; for she had a sort
+of affection for me, which I was soon to betray.</p>
+<p>It was a long descent upon St. Jean du Gard, and we met no one but
+a carter, visible afar off by the glint of the moon on his extinguished
+lantern.</p>
+<p>Before ten o&rsquo;clock we had got in and were at supper; fifteen
+miles and a stiff hill in little beyond six hours!</p>
+<h3>FAREWELL, MODESTINE!</h3>
+<p>On examination, on the morning of October 3rd, Modestine was pronounced
+unfit for travel.&nbsp; She would need at least two days&rsquo; repose,
+according to the ostler; but I was now eager to reach Alais for my letters;
+and, being in a civilised country of stage-coaches, I determined to
+sell my lady friend and be off by the diligence that afternoon.&nbsp;
+Our yesterday&rsquo;s march, with the testimony of the driver who had
+pursued us up the long hill of St. Pierre, spread a favourable notion
+of my donkey&rsquo;s capabilities.&nbsp; Intending purchasers were aware
+of an unrivalled opportunity.&nbsp; Before ten I had an offer of twenty-five
+francs; and before noon, after a desperate engagement, I sold her, saddle
+and all, for five-and-thirty.&nbsp; The pecuniary gain is not obvious,
+but I had bought freedom into the bargain.</p>
+<p>St Jean du Gard is a large place, and largely Protestant.&nbsp; The
+maire, a Protestant, asked me to help him in a small matter which is
+itself characteristic of the country.&nbsp; The young women of the Cevennes
+profit by the common religion and the difference of the language to
+go largely as governesses into England; and here was one, a native of
+Mialet, struggling with English circulars from two different agencies
+in London.&nbsp; I gave what help I could; and volunteered some advice,
+which struck me as being excellent.</p>
+<p>One thing more I note.&nbsp; The phylloxera has ravaged the vineyards
+in this neighbourhood; and in the early morning, under some chestnuts
+by the river, I found a party of men working with a cider-press.&nbsp;
+I could not at first make out what they were after, and asked one fellow
+to explain.</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Making cider,&rsquo; he said.&nbsp; &lsquo;<i>Oui</i>, <i>c&rsquo;est
+comme &ccedil;a.&nbsp; Comme dans le nord</i>!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>There was a ring of sarcasm in his voice: the country was going to
+the devil.</p>
+<p>It was not until I was fairly seated by the driver, and rattling
+through a rocky valley with dwarf olives, that I became aware of my
+bereavement.&nbsp; I had lost Modestine.&nbsp; Up to that moment I had
+thought I hated her; but now she was gone,</p>
+<blockquote><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&lsquo;And oh!<br />
+The difference to me!&rsquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>For twelve days we had been fast companions; we had travelled upwards
+of a hundred and twenty miles, crossed several respectable ridges, and
+jogged along with our six legs by many a rocky and many a boggy by-road.&nbsp;
+After the first day, although sometimes I was hurt and distant in manner,
+I still kept my patience; and as for her, poor soul! she had come to
+regard me as a god.&nbsp; She loved to eat out of my hand.&nbsp; She
+was patient, elegant in form, the colour of an ideal mouse, and inimitably
+small.&nbsp; Her faults were those of her race and sex; her virtues
+were her own.&nbsp; Farewell, and if for ever&mdash;</p>
+<p>Father Adam wept when he sold her to me; after I had sold her in
+my turn, I was tempted to follow his example; and being alone with a
+stage-driver and four or five agreeable young men, I did not hesitate
+to yield to my emotion.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY IN THE CEVENNES***</p>
+<pre>
+
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